Disclaimer- I don't own them, only Teresa and any made ups. The rest belong to Dick Wolf, so I don't suggest suing (you wouldn't get much anyways)

A/N: I decided to take this story another way, so I'll be mentioning an 8 month old son of Bobby and Alex's in this chapter, which I didn't in the previous. Sorry if it confuses anyone!... Everything else remains the same though.

Interrogation; why did they insist upon bringing their profession and skills into the haunting that was her life. She fiddled her thumb as they stared intently at her, bouncing question after question off the table. Lightly, she ran her fingers over the bumps and bruises that was her face and winced as a rush of pain clicked itself with her brain, announcing its visit.

"Do you remember what he looked like?" Bobby knew this would be a hard question to answer, even if she remembered clear as day what her attacker looked like.

She did, of course, remember what he looked like. There would be no forgetting this sorry excuse of a man. He was strong, his body weight felt deadly on hers and after trying to fight him back, scratching and clawing not having worked, she gave up, and lay limply beneath his putrid body. He had suave blonde hair. As he rocked up and down on her, grunting like a pig, the sweet scent of lavender intensified, and welcomed itself to her nose. She would never again be able to enjoy a lavender scent. And his hands; oh god those hands burned the brightest in her exhausted brain. They had seemed to overpower every trick she threw his way. They were scruffy, with uneven bit up nails. As he un-invitingly caressed her body, she had made the mental note that his hands felt like sandpaper on her luxurious, tender, Olive-colored skin. Momentarily she reached up a delicate hand and used only her fingertips to advance the lengths of her skin, particularly the area of her thigh and chest, where his hand had stroked the hardest and had the most fun.

"Teresa… we need to know" Bobby carefully used his left hand to title her chin, so as to get her to face him.

She gulped. The pace of her breathing sped up and her eyes began darting around the room again.

"All we need is a nod"

She nodded, back and forth, slowly at first, and then quicker, intensely, as if to make a point. "I remember everything about him from the way he looked, to the way he smelled of hot sweat as he drenched my body with his odors." Her voice took on an icy drone as she spoke to them. "Blond hair-straight blonde hair-and grey eyes, the kind that doesn't show emotion when you're hurting another living, breathing, human being. Hands of sandpaper… most definitely sandpaper" Her gaze spaced more now and she looked as if she had entered her own, frightening little world. "He was dead weight against me and after a while of fighting back, screaming my protests again and again, I finally just gave up. It wasn't worth it…I wasn't worth it" Tears threatened to ream down again and she quickly lowered her head, unwilling to show emotion, unwilling to let anyone see her break down again. Being weak was a bad thing and she refused to allow anyone-even her family- see her weaknesses.

For the first time in his entire career, Bobby Goren was at a loss for words. He wanted to reach out to her but knew she'd die before letting anyone, especially a guy, comfort her. "Did he umm, did he say anything to you?"

Teresa looked up, tears still threatening her eyelids. Her busted lip quivered slightly and in her angriest voice she simply said, "He asked me if I believed in God". She didn't say another word; instead she holstered herself from the cushiony brown couch and stood, facing the wall, facing away from the world.

The shrill wail of a baby sounded from the back room. With all the commotion she'd forgotten that she and Bobby had laid Jake, their 8 month old son, down to sleep over 3 hours ago. Bobby stood up and looked over at Alex. "I'll go get him, you sit, stay" She smiled, a sign of gratitude towards him as he walked into their son's nursery.

"I'll make the couch up for you" She stood up, and began pulling the cushions off the couch enabling her to yank out the couch bed. She felt a cool hand on her wrist and knew it was Teresa's

Teresa could only manage a low whisper. "Don't" She gave her a morose look and then turned away. "I'm going home. I need to be alone tonight, in my own bed. I won't get any sleep anyways, no use in keeping the both of you up"

"You're in no condition to drive" Alex warned. She knew Teresa had driven there; there was no way she could have made the walk, especially since it had been raining since the early evening.

"I'll be fine. I know what I can handle" Looking in her leather purse, she pulled out a gold keychain with 5 or 6 silver keys dangling down. With her fingertips, she teased the keychain, stroking it gently back and forth for comfort.

Alex and Bobby lay curled on the couch. Teresa had been gone for over 3 hours now, and yet they still remained awake, alert. Silence penetrated the room, both of them unsure of what to say or do about their niece. Alex wondered if she'd told Mrs. Eames yet, and then resolved that she'd more than likely had to. She let out a deep sigh and Bobby said his hand on her shoulder, stroking it with the tip of his thumb. He opened his mouth to speak but the telephone interrupted him.

"Hello?" Alex breathed warily into the phone. It was late, she was tired.

"It's mom, Alex."

"What's wrong?" From the monotone voice her mother attained Alex knew something was up, not to mention her mother never called that late unless it was an emergency.

"Teresa's very sick. We brought her into the hospital about an hour and a half ago. We need you here, Al" Her voice was urgent, pleading.

"We'll be right there" Alex slammed the phone down on the receiver. "Grab the baby, Bobby, we need to go"

"What's going on" he bolted from his lounged position and curiously looked at his wife.

"I'll explain on the way" She threw on some sweat pants, grabbed an umbrella, and picked up the baby bag.

Bobby went into the nursery and gently lifted the tiny baby boy into his arms. He wrapped a blanket around him and walked out into the living room. "I'm ready"

Alex was already on her way out of the door. Quickly, she paced herself to the SUV and pulled it up to the front so Bobby and the baby could get in without getting sick.

The drive to the hospital was quick and quiet. No one dared make a sound, although Alex had promised to fill Bobby in on what was happening on the way. The car came to a complete halt and Alex got out, accompanied by her husband and son. They quickly walked into the waiting room

Mrs. Eames was nervously pacing the quiet halls of Manhattan General. Her body spun around and she caught sight of her daughter, her husband, and their baby boy. She worked her way to them in a slow pace.

"Mom?" Alex's tone was of question, curiosity. She longed to know what was going on.

Mrs. Eames looked in her daughters hazel green eyes and for a split second she turned to face the rest of her clan. All of her children showed up with their husbands and wives and children. Their entire clan filled up the waiting room, and though she was thankful that their family was so strong that they bonded together in times of sickness and hardship, she momentarily wished they'd all go away and give her breathing room.

Everyone peered through Mrs. Eames, waiting for answers. What had been so wrong with Teresa that she'd been rushed into the ER?

Mrs. Eames opened her mouth, and found that her vocal chords would finally emit sound enough for explanations. "She got home. She wanted to go to bed, we didn't stop her. We assumed she just needed time… not a horrible assumption on our part. About 45 minutes after she went to bed, she walked out of her room. We were, of course, still awake. She complained of feeling dizzy, and nauseous. Your father got up to help her sit down but before he could make his way to her, she passed out. We got her to the hospital as soon as we could. Her fever spiked up to 102 and the doctors have been doing tests ever since. Mrs. Eames looked into the glass window that peered into Teresa's room.

Teresa laid there, wires and cords running freely about her body. There was an IV with a rather large bag of normal saline, there was a heart monitor, and there was the thermometer. There were wires and test tubes running through her that she couldn't even begin identify their purpose. Doctor's orders dictated that no one was allowed in to see her. "She needs her rest", he reasoned. "Hospital personnel only, until further notice".

"But we're her family!" Mrs. Eames argued.

"I understand that ma'am, but until my nurses and I can determine the cause of her condition the best medicine for her is simply rest. We're pumping her with a normal saline line, aspirin for the fever, and giving her clear fluids for the nausea. She'll be confined to bed rest for the next few days"

A sigh escaped Mrs. Eames' throat. There wasn't much else she could do. If she argued, she wouldn't be putting Teresa's best interests at heart. Unconsciously, she nodded to the doctor's specific orders. She stood there, unable to decipher what she should do next. Should she go home? Should she sit down in the waiting room for the next 72 hours? What good could that possibly do her, besides exhaust her? Questions and thoughts sped through her mind second by second, minute by minute. She hardly noticed when a nurse walked up to Teresa's doctor and handed him a tan paper file; it was Teresa's.

Scanning it quickly, he gathered his patient's results and looked at her family. "Your granddaughter is suffering from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, also known as exhaustion or stress. This could be brought on by dangerously high stress levels, her lifestyle…" He trailed.

Alex listened in with her mother, trying to grasp each new concept the doctor threw at them.

"Some symptoms in identifying this range from excessive stress and fatigue, to weight loss, low fevers, sore throat, headaches, muscle aches, sleep problems, depression, troubles remembering things, slight confusion, an inability to concentrate, troubles thinking about certain things, and low energy levels"

Mrs. Eames nodded. Everything the doctor had identified as a symptom, she noticed her granddaughter had recently begun suffering from. It got so bad that Teresa became known as "Eckerd's on wheels". Teresa had bought everything from aspirin for the mild fevers, to Excedrin migraine for her headaches. She attributed her irritability to PMS and bought Pamprin to successfully exterminate it.

"Have there been any significant stress factors in her life lately?" The doctor had to ask, it was his job, after all.

"She umm she was just raped" Mrs. Eames confided. "We don't know much more than that"

"I see. Well, I suggest you and your family head home. Sitting here and exhausting yourselves can only lead to more misfortune in your lives"

Something hit Alex and she began to speak. "My niece, I really need to speak with her"

The doctor looked oddly annoyed. He had just explicitly told everyone, her included, that Teresa was off limits for the next few days.

Alex hinted at the aggravation and spoke up again. "Not as her aunt, but as a detective. I have just a few more questions about her rape" The golden flash of her NYPD badge was all it took to gain access to her niece.

Teresa looked dangerously pale. Alex watched patiently as her chest rose and fell in her exhausted breathing patterns. She stood silent for what seemed like forever, when in reality the duration only lasted about 5 minutes, when Teresa interrupted her staring session.

She yawned, moved her head to the side and looked up at her aunt.

"How ya feelin' sweetie?" Alex leaned in and stroked Teresa's slightly curly black hair.

"Never felt better" Teresa mused sarcastically. How did her aunt think she felt?

Alex gave her niece a sympathetic look and parked herself in the cushiony seat beside the hospital bed. "I need to know, Teresa, before this man raped you, did he have prior contact with you?"

Her fingers tapped nervously on the bed pole as she contemplated what her answer would be.

"I need to know, Teresa, this is very important in keeping you safe"

Finally, she gave in. "Yes, Yes I did. He said he found my pictures on the internet, on my myspace account. It started out innocent enough. I was stupid and I gave him my phone number. From there we'd met at the mall, but he turned out to be a creep and I wanted nothing to do with him but he wouldn't take no for an answer. He kept calling and calling, and he showed up after school a few days out of the week. I asked him to stop but he got angry with me. I…I didn't know what else to do besides go with it, so I agreed to meet him for lunch last Friday."

"You agreed to MEET him!

Her aunt's fury gave Teresa a knot in the pit of her stomach, and forced her to back up some in her bed. "I'm… I'm sorry okay; I didn't know what else to do"

"What about coming to someone in the family! Your uncle and I could have helped you!"

"No one can help me!" She retorted. "No one"