(Disclaimer: Not mine.)

She dreams. But she won't talk to me about it. I know what she's going through. No, I don't know what specific images her subconscious mind is choosing to haunt her with as she sleeps. I do know the feeling of sleeping and seeing what you've seen in the past, all over again.

In this line of work, you work so closely with people - and what the rest of society would consider the scum of the earth - that it all sticks with you. You end up getting so invested in cases that the images don't leave your mind, even after the case ends. How long can you stare at a casefile before the crime scene photo or the hospital report's burned into your mind? You can't just leave it at the office at the end of the day.

I saw this happen for years, in Homicide. Good cops, driven halfway insane by a case they couldn't close or one that stuck with them, even after it was closed. The images don't leave your mind, even years after. And I'm seeing it again, now. Rookies washing out because they can't handle it. Seeing my colleagues come down from a stint in the crib, never looking rested.

Once in a while, you think you'd like to stop caring. Stop caring and stop taking the work home with you; be able to let it go. But, it's been said that if you stop caring, it's something you need to worry about. Caring is supposed to be a good sign.

It happens to the best of us, to all of us. The images stay with you, even when you try to get rid of them. They don't leave. You can go home and shut yourself off from the job, completely - or try to - and they'll still be around, in your mind. That's why so many of our fellow cops are on barstools right about now, trying to drown them. Trying to make the images and the memories go away.

Her sleeping body jerks, beside me. She gasps and sits up, hands over her face. Shielding herself. Because this is the last thing she wants me to see. Her, upset and 'weak.'

"Liv?"

In answer, she curls herself into a ball, hugging her knees close. I think she's going to stay like that, on her side of the bed and ignore me, completely. After a few minutes, however, she speaks. "John?" She tucks her hair away from her face, looking at me.

"Despite your best attempts to ignore me, I'm still here. I don't seem to notice when I'm being ignored," I answer, dryly.

"I know," she answers, shaking her head. "Otherwise you'd have quit trying to convince us all that the government's evil a few years ago."

"Someday, you'll wish you'd listened to me"- I begin.

"John?" She interrupts me, hitting me with her pillow.

"What? What the hell was that for?"

"Shut up."

I glance at her and see the look of pure amusement on her face, beginning to push the haunted look of someone who's just come out of a living nightmare away. "C'mere, Liv."

She scoots across the bed toward me, letting me put my arm around her. Her hair, nearly as long as it was when I first met her, spills across my shoulder.

"Okay?"

"Mmm-hmm," she sighs, turning her face to nuzzle my neck.

"Do you think you're the only one who gets woken up by this crap at night, Liv? You know it happens to the rest of us, too. You can talk to me."

She lifts her head to look at me. "I know, John. But... You're not my shrink."

"I know I'm not your shrink. But what?" I push where she trailed off.

"Nothing," she sighs, again.

"Not nothing, Liv. What is it?"

"I..." She stops. "I guess I don't want you to think I can't handle it."

"Damn it, Olivia. I sleep right here. This is between us. Do you think I'm going to take this into the office?"

She's looking at me, now, oddly quiet.

"We agreed we'd keep this between us, remember?"

She nods. We made that agreement, months ago. We'd keep our private lives - our relationship as a couple - out of the office. "I don't remember what woke me up this time - I don't."

I kiss the crown of her head, softly. "But now you're not going to give me the cold shoulder, hmm?"

"No."

"Good thing - so you're not ignoring me."

"No - not until I hear the word "government" come out of your mouth."