A/N: The caveat from a couple chapters ago applies to this one, too.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. If I did, they wouldn't have so much baggage to work through.

Chapter 25: The Story

You see the smile that's on my mouth
It's hiding the words that don't come out
And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed
They don't know my head is a mess
No, they don't know who I really am
And they don't know what
I've been through like you do
And I was made for you...

Lilly glanced from side to side, knowing instinctively that something wasn't quite right, but not having any idea what it was until the man emerged from the alleyway.

"Hey, little girl…kinda late to be out by yourself," he commented, his tone casual, but his eyes glittering with something Lilly couldn't quite place, and which instantly gave her the chills.

Her heart beginning to race, she ignored him and kept walking as a car zoomed by, its windows seeming to vibrate with each beat of the music.

"What're you doin' out so late?" the man persisted, stepping out from behind the building and beginning to follow her at a distance.

"I'm going to the store," Lilly called back as she picked up her pace, hoping that man would just go away and leave her alone. He was scary, that man.

"Does your mother know where you are?" she heard him call after her.

"She sent me," Lilly replied, and then something deep within her told her she'd shared a bit too much, and she better start running, so she did, trying to ignore the fact that his footsteps behind her had also increased their speed. The store was only a block and a half away. Maybe she could get there before that man could talk to her anymore.

She heard his footsteps, faster and louder behind her, and she sped up even more. Maybe, if she pretended she could fly, maybe that would help her run away. She willed her legs to move even faster, ignoring the burning of her lungs. Maybe she was fast enough. Look, there's the store, just up ahead.

But those footsteps were closing in so fast, and then she felt him grab her from behind, wrapping one arm around her waist and clapping a hand over her mouth. She struggled, her legs flailing wildly and her teeth sinking into his hand.

He yelped in pain, then whirled her around and started to hit her, and that's when she screamed.

She screamed for help, her throat instantly raw, but she heard no one coming. No hurrying footsteps, no cars screeching to a halt…no one.

There was no one to help her.

She had to fight him off herself.

Frantically, she shoved the ten-dollar bill her mother had given her into his grubby palm. "That's all the money I have, I swear," she pleaded. "Just take it."

The man smiled at her, his eyes glittering menacingly as he snatched the bill from her hand and hit her again. "That's not all I want from you," he sneered.

She screamed again as he reached for her…

Lilly's eyes snapped open, her breath coming in frantic gasps and her heart pounding wildly as she searched the room in a panic, looking for her attacker so she could fight him off. She couldn't find him, and she wasn't sure what was worse: not knowing where he was, or knowing exactly where he was and knowing that the only thing between her and certain death was her ability to fight.

She flailed and kicked, looking for something, anything, in the darkness, anything that might help her get her bearings so she could fight, and she stifled a scream as her right hand met something warm and solid. There he was. That bastard was lurking in the shadows right next to her, waiting to pounce, waiting to hit her again…

She whirled to face him, eyes blazing with fright and fury, ready to kick and punch and bite her way to freedom…and realized, with a start, that she wasn't on that rain-soaked street in Kensington, her mother on the sofa in a drunken stupor. She was at home, safe in her own bed. And that man next to her wasn't the one who'd stalked her in the shadows. It was Scotty.

Feeling slightly foolish, Lilly sat up, trying desperately to catch her breath and hoping not to burst into tears like she usually did when she had this dream. If she could keep the tears away, maybe she could keep the memories away, maybe she could keep them walled off and locked up like she usually did. And maybe she wouldn't have to--

"You okay?" she heard Scotty mumble from beside her as he stirred in his sleep and turned to face her. She glanced down at him, suddenly wanting nothing more than the warm, strong safety of his arms, so, impulsively, she flung herself into them and buried her face in his shoulder, still gasping for air and half-afraid the monster was lurking somewhere.

"What's wrong?" he asked groggily as he wrapped his arms around her, but she couldn't answer him. Not yet. Not until she was sure she wouldn't burst into tears. Breathe in. Breathe out. C'mon, Rush, you can do this. In and out. In and out. Slowly.

"You have a nightmare?" Scotty asked, and, despite the bleariness of his voice, Lilly glanced at him with alarm. How the hell did he know that? Had he been awake this whole time? Not like you're exactly bein' quiet about it, Rush…

Still unable to speak, she merely nodded, and he murmured sympathetically, pulled her closer, and began to gently stroke her hair. "S'okay, bella," he responded sleepily. "I'm here. You're safe. Those giants…they ain't gonna get you as long as I'm around."

Lilly clung to him for dear life, hoping beyond all hope that what he said was true, and eventually, she was able to take deep, full breaths and stop the room from spinning. Scotty was right. He was there. Warm and solid and secure. And she was okay. For now. This time, anyway, she was safe.

As awareness seeped through the lingering fog of her nightmare, she began to shiver uncontrollably, despite Scotty's warmth, despite the blankets, despite everything.

"I'm cold," she managed, and Scotty's eyes opened halfway.

"You're drenched," he observed groggily as his eyes slid closed again. "You can have my shirt…"

Lilly glanced down and realized that he was right; she was soaked in sweat from her nightmare. Hastily, she stripped off her sodden pajamas, plucked Scotty's discarded dress shirt from its resting place across the corner of the bed, and snuggled into its dry warmth.

"Thanks, Scotty," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek, but he mumbled something unintelligible, bunched the pillow into an indistinguishable wad beneath his head, and rolled over onto his other side. Lilly couldn't help but smile wistfully, wishing she could fall back to sleep so easily, but she knew from experience that she wasn't going to sleep another wink, at least not for a while. Not wanting to disturb Scotty's much-needed slumber, she crept from bed and headed downstairs to make some tea.

A few minutes later, the tea was made, and Lilly sat on her sofa, covering her bare legs with a blanket and sipping from her mug. The tea was definitely helping restore some order to her chaotic thoughts, and after a few sips, she set it down on the coffee table and drew her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her cheek on top.

From the moment they opened this case, the moment she'd seen Annie Potter's remains in the quarry, the moment they'd opened the box and she'd seen that freckled blonde smiling back at her, Lilly had known, even though it had been years since she'd had this nightmare, that as soon as she fell asleep, it would haunt her again. And with Scotty there, hovering over her, watching her every move and worrying about her, she was terrified he'd find out. How the hell could he not? He was a detective, for God's sake. And yet he hadn't pressed her for details, even tonight, though she was pretty sure that was because he'd been sound asleep and wasn't thinking clearly yet.

The last time Lilly's nightmare had visited her was three years before, during the George Marks case. All the other detectives had had their shot at him in the interview room, and within seconds, he'd ripped all of them to shreds. Scotty had been the first; one crack about Elisa had been all it had taken for him to be on the verge of losing control, and she'd heard that Boss had stepped in, only to be dispatched with in similar fashion when George brought up his daughter's rape. Vera and Jeffries had had their turn, and she'd heard Vera had almost attacked George when he brought up the Chimayo job, but Jeffries had saved his outburst for later, out in the squad room, when he knocked over a chair as he stormed out, the most visible display of emotion Lilly had ever seen from him. George had mentioned Mary, wondered aloud what she'd begged for on that lonely highway the night she died. No one mentioned Mary's name to Jeffries. Ever.

And then it was Lilly's turn. George had asked for her specifically. "Send in the blonde," he'd said, and she'd headed in, alone, with Stillman's instructions to put him in those woods.

That was when he'd tried his tactics on her. It caught her off-guard, briefly, that he knew what had happened to her, that he'd dug around in her 49 and learned all her darkest secrets, but she'd hidden it well, played it cool, not betrayed a thing to him, at least not then.

"Do you ever dream about it, Lilly?" he'd asked her, his eyes gleaming with the purest evil she'd ever seen.

"No…no, I don't," she'd lied. And George had seen right through it.

"Uh-huh," he'd replied. "Keep tellin' yourself that."

Goddamn bastard was right. She'd had the nightmare that very night, in fact, and for weeks afterward until she finally caught him. He'd used the information gleaned from her 49 to hunt her there in that attic, his woods, and, through her tears, she'd told him what had happened to her, knowing that telling him what he wanted to know would lead to him telling her what she needed to know, so she could clap him in cuffs and make him face justice…until she realized he had no intention of either one of them coming out of there alive.

And so she fought. She fought his claims that they were alike, fought off the awful truth that they'd both been sold out by the ones who were supposed to love them the most, fought the lies he tried to feed her that killing him would make them the same, and finally…she'd pulled the trigger.

Lilly didn't remember much after that. She vaguely remembered glancing down and seeing George lying on the floor, had a foggy recollection of giving Stillman the gun, descending the stairs, and moving in a trance past her colleagues. But one clear memory she did have was the look in Scotty's eyes. She hadn't been able to shake it in the days and weeks that followed. He'd never said a word to her about that night, never asked any questions, and she'd been grateful for that…but occasionally, she'd see him looking at her, his eyes dark and haunted by the ghosts of his past, which were somehow rearing their ugly heads and intertwining with hers. The night of the shooting, he looked like he'd aged ten years since she'd seen him that morning, when he'd apologized to her for his misstep with Christina. He'd looked a little scared then, like he was afraid she might not forgive him…but that night, when their eyes met…he'd been terrified. His face looked years older, but his eyes held the look of a lost little boy, and for a brief moment, she'd wanted to take him in her arms and focus on his pain instead of hers, his tortured memories instead of her own. Deailng with someone else's crap had always been easier, and she'd seen enough of her own that night to last a lifetime.

But she didn't, and he'd never breathed a word about it since then, but things between them had changed that night. Like they'd realized, perhaps, that they cared about each other as people, maybe even as friends, not just partners.

As she'd pondered his reaction over the next few weeks, mostly because it gave her something to think about other than what she'd done in the woods, Lilly realized that she'd remembered that look from the days when Scotty was with Elisa, especially toward the end. Haunted. Endlessly worried. He looked like it had been months, if not years, since he'd gotten a good night's sleep, how he buried himself in work to forget what was happening at home. Like he was constantly running from something, and if he stopped to rest, even for a second, it would catch up to him, and it would all be over. Not that she knew anything about that, Lilly mused with a wry smile. But even back in those early days of their partnership, she'd been concerned about him, like he'd either wear himself out running from whatever it was, or he'd break under the load he was carrying.

Something about those days years ago gave her pause, made her stop to think, and after a few moments' consideration, she remembered something. After her nightmare, Scotty had called her…bella. He never called her bella before. It was always Lil or sometimes querida. Bella was new, yet she knew she'd heard it before, she knew she'd heard him say it with the same reverence he used whenever he spoke her name…

Lilly froze suddenly as she remembered a conversation she'd overheard years ago. Scotty had been in a corner of the office on his cell phone, speaking in hushed tones and looking around furtively, and she couldn't make out much of his end, but she had heard him call someone bella. "I'll be by later, bella," he'd said, and as he'd slipped his phone back in its holster, he'd had that same haunted look in his eyes. Like whatever was after him, whatever was chasing him down and threatening to overtake him was back, and if he didn't start running again, it'd swallow him whole.

It's okay, bella…I'm here…you're safe… those giants…they ain't gonna get you as long as I'm around.

She pondered Scotty's words anew, her mind racing with the sudden possibility that he hadn't been talking to her at all. She replayed what she could remember of a few minutes before, and realized that Scotty had never truly woken up. He'd responded to her almost automatically, knowing just what to do, knowing the reassuring words that would make her feel safe…except he'd never really looked at her, had never been fully present.

In that moment, Lilly realized that…it was automatic for him. It was a habit…because he'd comforted Elisa through no doubt thousands of night terrors. Her breath caught in her throat as she figured out that…that night…he'd been talking to her as though she actually were Elisa. That's where the giants must have come from. That's why he'd called her bella.

Lilly inhaled shakily as the truth took root in her soul. He was worried about her the same way he'd been worried about Elisa, and she knew that if he kept fretting like that, it would tear him apart the way the situation with Elisa had in the last few months of her life…if it hadn't already, and, with a sinking heart, Lilly concluded that it had. She'd noticed the concerned look in Scotty's eyes the moment she'd gotten that phone call from Stillman on Saturday night, and in the frenzied hours that followed, she'd done anything and everything she could think of to avoid that penetrating gaze, hell, even to avoid him, just so she wouldn't have to tell him, so she wouldn't have to relive it yet again.

But Lilly realized, with a sense of certainty, that her not telling Scotty was hurting him deeply. She'd been trying to run away from that, too, but it had been inescapable the previous day in the evidence room, when he'd walked in while she was having a flashback. Tears had filled his eyes as he'd pleaded with her to just let him help. That was all he wanted. He didn't want to make her relive her horrors for his own sick sense of self-gratification like George had. George preyed on fear, got off on the terrified looks on the faces of the women he brutally murdered. She'd seen how much pleasure he'd taken in her retelling of her attack that night in his attic.

To place Scotty in that category almost made Lilly laugh with the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Scotty…and George? The two were absolutely nothing alike. Telling Scotty would be nothing like telling George. Scotty just wanted to help. And not even really because it was about him, she realized. That was simply who he was, as much a part of him as his dark eyes or his passion for sports or his love for those guava turnovers. Scotty was born to help people. That's why he was a cop, she knew, and that's part of why he'd been so persistent with Elisa. A lesser man would have given up long ago, she knew that. But Scotty…for better or for worse, he'd loved Elisa with all his heart, and she'd seen how torn apart he was at her decline, at the fact that he couldn't do anything to help her. And it wasn't that Elisa wouldn't let him, Lilly realized, it was that he simply couldn't. Schizophrenia was a terrible disease, she knew, and Scotty was utterly powerless to fix it. He could comfort her as best he could, he could arrange for her to receive the best care available, but in the end, he hadn't been able to save Elisa, and, despite the fact that that was an utterly impossible task for anyone, she knew it still ate at him.

But, Lilly mused…it didn't have to be that way with her. No, Scotty couldn't fix her. No, he couldn't go back and change what had happened. He couldn't change the fact that any case that brought back those memories for her would haunt her…but he hadn't wanted to fix it. He'd never said that.

I just wanna help you.

Ray had uttered those exact same words that sunny afternoon when he'd stopped by to see why she'd missed school. After he'd made her the milkshake and delivered it to her in the one clean glass he could find, he'd settled down next to her on the ratty sofa and watched TV with her for hours. Even when it got dark, he stayed, and when Lilly finally realized how long he'd been there, she'd turned to him, the question she wasn't able to speak clearly written in her eyes.

Why are you still here?

"I just wanna help you," Ray had answered with a shrug, then slid off the sofa and crossed the room to change the channel. "Wanna watch Mork and Mindy?"

Lilly smiled once again at the memory of Ray's childish sweetness, and that was the main reason she'd held onto him for so long, had almost married him that hot day in Tennessee. He knew her. He'd seen her at her absolute worst, at her weakest and most helpless, and it hadn't changed his opinion of her a bit. Ray had truly loved her, and even though they weren't meant to be in the long run, she would always, always treasure the way he'd cared for her.

Joseph had picked up on that fact, and that was, at least in part, what had spelled doom for their relationship.

"Ray knows me…everything about me," Lilly had protested.

"Maybe if you let me in, I'll leave you, too?" Joseph had retorted, the hurt bleeding into his voice.

"Ray never left me," Lilly had insisted defensively, stepping back from Joseph and raising her hands as though to shield herself from the truth of his words.

"No, he's just never around," Joseph had argued. "Maybe that's what you want."

Was it? Was that what she wanted? No…and yes. No, of course she didn't want to spend the rest of her life alone, but if that was the alternative to pain, if that was her only choice other than to watch everyone she'd ever loved stab her in the back and run away, then…maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Lilly sighed. She'd realized, long ago, that she loved Scotty with all her heart, so if he left…there'd be no recovering from that. But, at the same time, why in the world would she believe he'd leave her? What evidence had he ever given her that he wasn't in this thing? Oh, he said stupid things from time to time, he screwed up, he sometimes didn't know when the bull in a china shop routine that worked so well with suspects wasn't exactly the best approach to take with her and her fragile heart, but, Lilly realized, the reason he'd been so panic stricken the past two days was because he'd seen her in pain and she'd made it so he was powerless to do anything about it.

Powerlessness…that had haunted Scotty his entire life, Lilly knew. He hadn't told her much about his brother, or about Ana, or even Elisa, but she knew that look he got when he was utterly helpless and forced to watch someone else he loved suffer. It was the look she'd been getting since the phone rang on Saturday night. And Lilly knew there was nothing Scotty could have done to stop Coach Fitz from abusing his brother, to keep that jonesing drug mule from gutting Ana in a search for those two hidden cookies, to stop Elisa from jumping off the bridge…

And Scotty couldn't have prevented her attack, either…but the lingering pain? Scotty could help with that. Lilly didn't know exactly what that help would look like, but she remembered Ray's thoughtfulness and childish gestures of affection from all those years ago. He hadn't changed what had happened to her, hadn't even asked her about it until quite a while later…but had he helped her? Of course he had. He'd made sure she got enough to eat, he'd kept her company, and he'd kept her mind off of the horrendous things that had been done to her.

Isn't that what we do every day? Lilly asked herself. We can't change the past…we can't go back and make it so the murders never happened, we can't bring people's loved ones back to them…but we can bring their killers to justice. We can make sure bastards don't get away with murder. We can give people closure, restore relationships, start the process of mending old wounds…we can help.

It's not about me, Lilly realized. I have to tell Scotty…for him. Because he's not powerless to help me. He can't change what happened, he can't make it not hurt…but he can share it. Just like Ray did. He can be there for me. He can help me. If only I'll let him.

Lilly inhaled shakily as the truth of what she had to do began to seep into her heart. Telling Scotty would alter his perception of her forever. It might backfire, she knew that. Might make him feel even sorrier for her and spend the rest of his life viewing her as a damsel in distress who couldn't protect herself, might make him blame himself for what had happened, make him feel even more helpless that he hadn't been able to stop her attack. Maybe. But…it would definitely make him wrap his arms around her and try to comfort her…and after what they'd been through with this case, that was really all she needed.

After having spent her entire life trying not to need people, not to trust them, not to depend on anyone but herself…Lilly realized that, like it or not, she'd come to need Scotty. Desperately. She'd tried living without him, and that had lasted maybe a day. She needed him to be there like she needed air to breathe. Just a faint whiff of his shirt, of the scent of his skin mingled with a hint of that spicy aftershave was comforting her and giving her strength to face what had happened.

Maybe needing someone…especially someone who loves me…maybe that's not the worst thing in the world, she mused, as she tried to prepare herself for the most difficult conversation she'd ever had in her life.

Scotty rolled over and sighed contentedly, noting with a deep sense of satisfaction that it was still dark. If it was still dark, he reasoned, that meant he didn't have to get up yet. Glancing at the clock out of idle curiosity, he discovered that it was only 3:47 AM. With a start, he realized that he'd been asleep for almost nine hours already. Had they really gone to bed before seven? Scotty couldn't remember the last time he'd done that, but, with a wry smile, he realized he also couldn't remember the last time he'd gone over 48 hours with no sleep.

Grateful that he could snuggle down under the covers and enjoy a few more hours of slumber, Scotty closed his eyes once more and wiggled his way over to Lilly's side of the bed to pull her close and enjoy the fact that, when she was asleep, she couldn't fight him, and, for the moment anyway, they were okay. But when his outstretched hands met only cold sheets, his eyes snapped open in alarm.

Lilly was gone.

Where the hell was she? He knew she'd been asleep when he'd gone to bed; that was the only reason he'd allowed himself to finally succumb to the mind-numbing fatigue. She'd been sleeping. Peacefully. And yet here she was, gone from the bed. He reached his hands out once more, just to make sure, and his fingers met not Lilly, or even the soft fur of one of the cats, but a shirt that was cold and still quite damp.

He struggled to a sitting position, trying to figure out why Lil's shirt was there, and why it was wet, and he suddenly had a vague memory of feeling unsettled earlier that night, of feeling someone fling herself into his arms, and of whispering words of comfort to her. Like he had countless times with Elisa all those years ago. He'd thought at the time that maybe he was dreaming, but that shirt was proof that everything he thought he remembered was very real. Lilly had indeed had a nightmare.

But…Lilly didn't have nightmares, at least, not that he knew about. Not like Elisa had. So…for her to have had one…

Scotty was suddenly certain to the depths of his being that she'd had a nightmare about whatever had happened to her, and he hadn't even been awake enough to comfort her. She'd needed him, and he hadn't been there. Oh, he'd been physically there, but not emotionally, and she'd been driven from the bed to seek comfort somewhere else.

Mentally kicking himself for his lack of vigilance, Scotty tossed back the covers and swung his legs over the side. He had to go find her and see if she needed anything. Had to go make it up to her somehow. Had to go apologize for not being there, for letting her down. Again.

Instantly awake, he crept downstairs to find her.

Lilly glanced up when she heard footsteps on the stairs, heard the creak that the fifth step always made, and knew that the game was up, and she couldn't hide from her task any longer. In mere seconds, Scotty would be in the living room, wanting to know why she was sitting on the sofa in the dark at four in the morning. Lilly's heart leaped into her throat and she sighed shakily. She wasn't ready for this conversation yet, hadn't quite chosen the words she wanted to use, but she knew she had to tell him, now. If she didn't start the conversation, he would. She knew him well enough to know that he'd been awakened a few minutes earlier, had seen her missing, might even remember the nightmare, and would be coming downstairs to interrogate her about it. She pulled his shirt tighter around her, realizing, as he came into view, that having him wrapped around her instead…she felt tears sting her eyes at how much more wonderful that would feel.

Scotty heard Lilly's shaky sigh before his eyes had adjusted enough to see her, but as a car swished past on the street below, he could see her sitting there on the sofa, illuminated just slightly by a streetlight and the pale light of the moon, clad only in his shirt, hugging her knees to her chest, a faraway look in her eyes. He'd never seen that look before, and wasn't sure at all what it meant, but he felt a knot of dread forming in the pit of his stomach anyway.

Not sure what to say, not sure he even wanted to know, all he could do was stand there, his heart racing, and that dread washing over him like a wave and making him feel sick.

"I need to tell you something," Lilly declared softly, and the knot of dread grew larger. "I can only tell you once, and I don't remember everything. If there's anything else you want to know…" she paused and met his eyes. "It's in my 49."

She heard Scotty suck in a breath as the truth sank in, and she hated what she was about to do, but knew it had to be done. This wasn't about her achieving closure for the past, or whatever the hell that was. This was about bare facts, about explaining why she'd been so traumatized by this case, about putting Scotty's anxious mind at ease.

Or so she tried to tell herself. But, she realized, as she felt Scotty tentatively sink down onto the couch next to her, that telling him was going to be even harder for her than telling George was. As though moving in a trance, she swung around so that Scotty could put his arm around her, which he did, cautiously, and so she could rest her head on his shoulder. She couldn't bear to see the look in his eyes when she shattered the last of his illusions. The look he'd had the last two days was heart-wrenching enough.

"George…made me tell him," she began hesitantly. "That night in the woods. That's how he hunted me." She felt Scotty shudder and pull her closer as the memories of that night washed over them both. "He read my 49, found out what happened…and then he made me tell him. That's how I got him to confess."

"What happened to you, Lil?" Scotty asked softly, his voice tender and full of compassion as he pulled her close.

It was the sound of his voice that did it, that caused the last of her walls of self-preservation to crumble and tears to flood her eyes. Dammit. She wasn't going to cry her way through this one, like she had last time. She wanted to be firmly in control this time. Oh, last time, she'd been in control to an extent, because she'd known that George hid his own secrets, and by telling him hers, she could get him reveal his, but…this was totally different. There was nothing to gain from telling him, no ulterior motive…just laying her soul bare before him and letting him see all her scars.

"You can't…fix this," she told him, her voice sounding thick and faraway. "You can't change this. And you can't feel sorry for me."

"Okay," he agreed tentatively, and for a second, she wanted to change the subject, to let this drop and not go there, but as she snuggled closer to him, she felt the frantic thumping of his heart against his chest and knew she couldn't back out now. She felt the tension in his body as he pulled her close, felt the dread and apprehension pouring off him in waves. She knew, if she could stop the tears that insisted on blurring her vision and tracing hot paths down her cheeks, that she might have more success in her endeavor to get him to not feel sorry for her, but she was as powerless to stop that as she had been to stop what had happened to her in the first place.

"I was ten," she began. "Like Annie." She felt Scotty inhale shakily, and she wrapped an arm around his waist, as much for him as for her.

"On my way to the store," she continued. "It was dark out…late…"

Lilly felt the question forming in Scotty's mind, and she hastened to continue before he could ask it. She needed to tell him what had happened before she told him why, mostly for the vain hope that perhaps telling him the facts would give her the strength she needed to tell him why it had even happened in the first place.

"I was halfway there…and this man…" she stopped, the lump in her throat too large, for the moment, to speak around.

Scotty cradled her head to his chest and gently stroked her hair. "What'd he do to you?" he asked softly, in the same tone of voice he used with traumatized witnesses, that compassionate tone that, although acknowledging how difficult it was to talk, also made it clear that they weren't getting off the hook, that they had to finish their tale.

"He wanted my money," Lilly finally continued, brushing away a tear from her cheek before returning her hand to its place around Scotty's waist. "He knew I had it…so he followed me." She took a hitching breath, then plunged ahead with the part she knew would break the heart of the man she clung to like a life preserver.

"I ran," she continued. "I ran and ran…but…he caught me. And…he took what he wanted," she finished simply, hoping against hope Scotty wouldn't press for details, but knowing in her heart that he would.

"Which was…?" he asked softly, his voice strained with dread.

"I thought it was just the money," she answered. "But…he hit me," she continued, that admission unlocking the floodgates, and the rest of the story poured forth as the dam burst, having been repressed and denied for far too long, grateful to finally be told to someone who loved her, someone who cared, someone who wouldn't deny it, get off on it, or pretend it hadn't happened. "He kept hitting me, and hitting me…and laughing…he broke my jaw…I lost some teeth…and I thought I was gonna die," she sobbed. "And I didn't wanna die…so I screamed for help…but no one came…and he was still hitting me…so I fought. I fought…and…"

That was it. That was all she could tell him before nearly thirty years of repressed emotions overwhelmed her completely, and all she could do was bury her face in the warmth of Scotty's chest and sob helplessly for all that little ten-year-old had lost. She felt him pull her closer, and she knew that in that moment, it was just as much for him as it was for her…she knew he was fighting his own battle with tears, but she didn't care. Couldn't care. This had started out being for him, and she hoped to God she hadn't made a mistake in telling him…but it was too late, and she realized, that whether he needed to know or not, she'd needed to tell him, for her. In all the anguish, there was a small measure of peace, of relief, in knowing that they had no secrets between them anymore, that the last of her walls had crumbled, that he knew the absolute worst thing about her, everything except…

"How come you were out so late?" she heard him ask huskily, feeling the vibrations of his voice through his chest.

There was no use hiding. No use pretending. Her soul had been stripped naked before him, and there was no further reason to protect herself. Not anymore.

"My mother needed a drink," she managed, knowing that Scotty, even in his shattered state, could put the pieces together. There was nothing further to explain. Her mother had needed a drink, had been a slave to the bottle to such a degree that she abandoned her firstborn to the wolves. That was what had kept Lilly a prisoner to the pain for so long. The attack was one thing. Lots of people were attacked and mugged by strangers, especially in Kensington…but if her mother hadn't needed a fucking drink bad enough to send her baby out at midnight to get it for her, she'd never have been among those statistics.

But the anger and the bitterness…that could wait for another day. All she could feel now was the long-repressed pain, and she had no idea how long Scotty held her, no clue how long she cried, but eventually, her sobs quieted, and all she was aware of was Scotty's nearness, how tightly he held her, the reassuring rhythm of his heart, his comforting spicy scent…he was still there. She didn't know how he'd react, didn't know what he'd do…but she couldn't summon the energy to care. She'd finally told him, finally let him into the last walled-off part of her heart…and, for the moment anyway, he was still there.