A.N. Sorry for the delay. Please review. Thanks.

Olivia takes a deep breath as she pulls her legs up onto the couch and folds them under her body. "I don't know, Elliot," she begins hesitantly. Her fingers explore the beaded throw pillow in her lap nervously. Elliot observes his friend's demeanor intently. She closes her eyes, tilts her head back till it rests on top of the couch and exhales. He is silently hoping she feels comfortable enough to open up to him. However, he knows he can't push her. It has to be her decision. Still, he needs to know what happened. Mostly, he needs to know who violated the strongest person he knows.

"If you don't want to it's okay," he offers after a brief pause.

"No, it's okay," she replies shaking her head. "Its okay," she repeats as if to reassure herself. She takes a deep breath and prepares herself to speak. All week, no matter how much she told herself she didn't need anyone, she longed to tell someone. And despite her initial reluctance it was a relief when Elliot found out. She wants to share this with her best friend. She needs him to help her through it, to carry some of the weight.

Elliot anxiously waits for his partner to share the most traumatic event of her life. He wonders if he should do or say something. Maybe offer a kind gesture or an encouraging word. However, he's uncharacteristically at a lost for words. Nothing seems appropriate.

"I can't get it out of my head," she finally says. Her voice is tired and soft. Her dark eyes meet his. Elliot gives her an assuring look and patiently waits for her to continue. "Its like someone tattooed his face on the inside of my eye lids. I close my eyes and he's there. I keep reliving it. I see him all the time. I'm having nightmares. I can't sleep at night," she goes on turning away from him. "Just being here, in this apartment, on this couch, is hard."

"It happened here?" Elliot asks. He looks down at what had previously been an ordinary white sofa but was now tainted by violence and violation and adjusts his body. A sick feeling starts to creep into the pit of his stomach and he battles his mind to keep the images at bay.

Olivia gives a weak affirmative nod. "He said he needed to use to bathroom. I didn't want to be rude. I thought he was nice. I can't believe I was so stupid." Elliot recognizes the pattern of speech Olivia employs. For the first time she sounds like a victim. Her voice low. Her tone guilty. Her gaze distant. Her manner sheepish. The words spill out of her mouth without her usual gracefulness. She shifts in her seat nervously, clasping and unclasping her hands, fidgeting with a pillow in her lap. Despite her cautious effort she can't manage to sound composed. Victims rarely can.

"Liv," he starts softly. "Its not your fault." Instantly he regrets saying that. She deserves more than tired cliches and insincere lines. And now, despite his best attempt to avoid treating his partner like a typical victim, he offers her the same line he routinely uses in the role of detective to comfort numerous broken and battered women. He hopes she doesn't pick up on the connection because the last thing he wants is for her to see him as a cold distant detective instead of the supportive friend he wants to be.

She nods and closes her eyes, trying her best to hide the tears that have formed. She throws her head back with a sigh hoping to restrain the threatening tears. "I know," she mutters meekly, overlooking the non-comforting cliche he has just thrown at her. She always wondered if the lines they so often use on victims actually work. Now she knows. "I always figured that if it happened it would be connected to a case or something. Some collar seeking revenge," she says with a roll of her eyes. "And after all the threats and close encounters, after all the unnecessary concern and surveillance from the rest of the squad," she says glancing at him, "it was completely unrelated." She shakes her head in confusion, unable to comprehend why or how this happened.

Elliot remains silent. He doesn't know what to say. He always thought along the same lines he now knows she did. He figured if she would be harmed in that way it would have something to do with her job. And for that reason he kept an eye on her when they worked. He didn't do it to be condescending or chauvinistic. He really did care for her. Furthermore, he knew there was always a chance that a case could get out of hand. They routinely dealt with sick deranged psychopaths. How could he not be a little paranoid? Of course he was going to do everything in his power to protect her, no matter how much she hated it. Now, in some sense he feels he has failed her. He had been so concerned with the risks of being a female sex crimes detectives that he had overlooked the risks of simply being a woman.

Olivia throws her hands down in frustration. "I just can't believe I fell for it. He seemed nice," she says rolling her eyes. "I actually told myself that afterwards. As if that could justify it."

"Olivia," Elliot finally speaks.

He's ready to take another crack at the comforting thing, but before he has a chance to she interrupts him. "No Elliot, I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear how it wasn't my fault, or how its not about what I did. And that he had the physical advantage." Her voice is strong for the first time all night. "Okay, I know what they teach us. I took the classes too. And I know there was probably nothing I could do to stop it while it was happening, but I should have been able to prevent it. I shouldn't have put myself in that situation. I know the difference between safe and unsafe situations. I should have seen through him. I never should have let him into my apartment." Her eyes fall to the floor with a frustrated shake of her head. "My judgment was off and I suffered the consequences."

"No, you're wrong. God, you're so wrong." He wonders briefly is he should be so direct with her after all she's been through. He quickly pushes the doubt aside. She may have been raped but she's still the same strong willed woman he has worked along side for years. He won't sugar-coat things for her, he won't treat her any differently. He owes that to her. "Do you hear yourself Liv? What happened to you has nothing to do with your judgment. That man, whoever he is, would have found a way to get what he wanted. There was no way you could have seen him for what he was, and there was no way you could have known what was going to happen. No one has that ability. I know that with hindsight it feels like you could have done something differently, but you can't. You have to live your life in the present and you have to trust yourself. You got hurt Liv, and you have no idea how much I wish that wasn't the case, but there was nothing you could have done. Okay? I know you don't want to hear it, but we say it for a reason. This wasn't your fault."

She lets his words sink in, even tries to believe him. Maybe he is right, it's not her fault, but that doesn't change the way she feels. She shouldn't have put herself in that situation-that's her bottom line. She's not blaming herself for what happened, just for allowing it to happen. Still, she bites her tongue and elects not to counter Elliot's big speech. She knows her thinking doesn't make much sense and its not worth articulating to someone as self-righteous as him. Elliot has always been the poster boy for personal conviction, which is one of the things she admires about him. He stood for what he stood for and there was little room for interpretation. He has his beliefs and moral code, both of which had conveniently came in the package of his religion. She, on the other hand, has no such package and is therefore left to evaluate and deal with each situation as it arose. She has no choice but to let her feelings and instincts guide her. No matter how self-deprecating they were.

Elliot studies his partner carefully debating whether or not to ask the question that has been burning inside him. She catches him in his gaze and gives a questioning look. Now, under the pressure of her lingering eyes he can't avoid it. "Who is he?" he finally asks.

Olivia licks her lips and runs a hand through her hair. She doesn't look shocked by his question. In fact she almost seems to have expected it. "Does it matter?" she answers after long consideration. She's more than familiar with her partner's volatile personality and doesn't want to be the cause of his inevitable rash, yet admirable, behavior.

He locks eyes with her and searches her face for a moment. "No," he finally says with a small smile. He sees her concern for him and decides not to push the matter.

She returns the look. "His name's Danny. He bartends nights at Mike's Tavern."

Elliot doesn't respond verbally. He simply nods and stores the information. He knows the place. In fact, he probably has seen the guy before.

"Don't do anything stupid," she warns throwing the pillow at him playfully.

His blue eyes sparkle and his lips widen into an innocent grin. He shows his hands in mock surrender."You wanna grab something to eat?" There's more to be said, more to find out, but he decides to give it a rest.

Olivia unfolds her legs and stands up. "Sure." Elliot watches her as she grabs her keys and hand bad. "Ready?"

He nods and stands up, following her to the door. "I think the rain let up," he notes.

"Yeah?" she returns. "Too bad."

"You like the rain?" he asks with a laugh of disbelief.

"Sometimes." She locks the door and looks up at him with a smile. "Its serene."

"You call flooding and falling trees serene?"

Olivia laughs. "I hate you."

"How bout the pizzeria?" Elliot asks leading her to the right. She had suggested they just walk to somewhere close. "Its open pretty late." They stand outside on the wet sidewalk in front of Olivia's apartment. The streets are unusually calm. Only the sound of the occasional passing car can be heard.

Olivia takes a step back. "No," she cries abruptly. "Let's just go to the dinner down the block."

"Okay." Elliot starts in the other direction. As they walk in silence he realizes that the pizzeria he suggested is just past Mike's Tavern. He chides himself for his thoughtlessness and makes a mental note to take a little walk that way later on. He quickens his pace to match Olivia's.