OMG YOU GUYS! I am so stupid. I realised I left out a HUGE chunk of Chapter 21 - therefor Chapt 22 probably didn't make a lot of SENSE ... And its IMPERATIVE because you wont understand what happens in my NEXT chapter omg. I am so stupid. Can I implore you to give Chapt 21 a quick read again, Olivia going to the body discovery with Carisi, not handling it very well and then getting home to Trevor who is looking after Noah... JEEZ... Ok here is the next part...the ~*~*~ missing bit~*~*~*~ Lemme know what you think:

"Stop apologizing. I will see you when you get home."

Olivia stopped at the landing of the stairs. It had been a big, big night. It was just after midnight and she wasn't sure she was going to be able to sleep again for awhile. She collected herself before she made the rest of the way to her apartment door.

She was utterly exhausted and then there was the bile that sat at the back of her throat, threatening to expend itself. On top of it all, the guilt of leaving Noah yet again on a day off haunted her.

She was trying so hard to juggle it all, but she knew she wasn't succeeding, not since Sanchez began to blip on her radar.

She fished in her bag for her spare key and opened the door as quietly as she could. She found Trevor dozing on the couch, his head was resting against the wall that the couch was pushed up against. The noise from the TV was soft.

She felt thankful for him and for his help. He looked sweet in a black t-shirt and loose jeans, a pair of dark blue socks covering his huge feet. She looked around her apartment and everything was tidy and when she went to set her bag down on the dining table, she noticed that Noah's art project was sitting on top of a sheet of newspaper; paint still drying.

She felt overcome with gratitude after such a terrible night.

She heard Trevor stirring behind her as a buckle on her bag clunked the oak. "Liv, you're back…" he breathed sleepily. She sucked in a breath and forced a smile as she turned around.

"Hey…" she shed her jacket and put it on the back of the dining chair.

He sat up straight and rubbed his neck. "How was work?"

She shook her head and put her hand up in a 'stop' gesture and simply said nothing, pursing her lips, not wanting to show any emotion.

"Liv?" he pressed, "are you okay?" he wondered.

"No, not really…" she gave him a tense smile, trying to swallow it all down, trying to ignore the bile, the look of the body, the cigarette burns.

The fucking cigarette burns.

Missing for four days.

"Do you want to talk?" he asked.

She shook her head again. She waited for the ability to speak again before she attempted. Trevor watched her, his face lined with concern, unsure of exactly what he should do. He didn't want to leave her and he could tell that she was visibly shaken up.

"I just need to have a shower," she said when she was able to breathe again.

"Okay, I'll wait for you…" he said with decisiveness.

"Its alright, I know you're starting work tomorrow, I've already ruined your first day preparation, so you should go and know how sorry I am that I got back so late."

"Liv," he sighed, "stop apologizing. If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be here. I'm already prepared for work. Go have a shower, I'll wait," he pushed, realizing that sometimes he had to insist; that she was so used to giving everyone the easy way out that she was barely used to someone who didn't run for the escape route.

"Okay…"

She went to her room and grabbed for pajamas and fresh underwear and went to the bathroom. She turned the faucet on and let the water beat down. She looked around; even the bathroom had been tidied.

She could have chosen to take offense to someone coming in and cleaning up after her, but she chose to feel grateful that he was trying to make things easier for her. It was humbling, but she took it on board.

She started to strip her clothes off until she was down to her underwear. She glanced at herself in the mirror; usually avoiding the parts of her that she had been insecure about – the parts of her that had been stained by him.

She felt her eyes fill with tears as she saw some of the burns on her chest. Thankfully there weren't many, but the half-hearted attempts that he left were enough to serve as a very strong memory of the trauma that was barely staying beneath the surface.

The visceral reactions were still real and the PTSD came and went in waves depending on what was going on in her life. She felt her legs becoming a little soft beneath her as she buckled down over the toilet and began to let her body expel every little bit of food that she'd eaten, every feeling she'd experienced since seeing the body and every notion of guilt that had consumed her.

Once she began, she couldn't seem to stop. She closed her eyes tightly as the tears squeezed from her eyes, rolling their way down her cheeks.

"Olivia…" Trevor's sounded behind her after what felt like a long time but had probably only been a few minutes. It centered her, brought her back in to reality; the firmness of his tone, the air of concern. She heard the faucet being turned off. She felt his presence before she felt his hand on the back of her shoulder – the shoulder that was branded with a small scar.

"Please don't touch me," she murmured shamefully. His hand immediately lifted from her skin. Trevor was worried; he wasn't sure if she was unwell or if something had happened at work that had triggered her. She slumped over the porcelain bowl in a wife beater and a pair of black briefs Her body shivered violently as if she was in shock.

He spotted a glass beside the basin that he filled up for her. He set it down beside her on the tiles. "There's some water beside you, sweetheart," he said softly. He slowly got to the floor, awkwardly leaning against the bathtub right behind her. "Tell me when it's okay for me to comfort you," he murmured quietly.

She picked up the glass, her hands trembling. He watched her take a mouthful and wash it around in her mouth before spitting it in to the bowl. She seemed to take a second, trying to figure out if she was done vomiting or not.

She wiped her eyes and took another drink from the glass before setting it down again. She let go of the bowl, signifying that she was done, she fell back on to her behind and sat for a moment. "Its okay," she whispered, her throat hoarse.

Trevor leaned over and put his arms firmly around her, pulling her close to him. He secured his arms around her tightly. "It's going to be okay, Liv…" he murmured, kissing the crown of her head. "Whatever it is, I'm here and we can talk about it or I can just sit with you…"

He was surprised when he felt her unraveling; her body melted against him; the tenseness dissipating and then the tears turned to grief-wracked sobs that she had clearly taught herself how to do silently. If it hadn't been for her shuddering body, he wouldn't have known she was crying.

He sat with her for awhile stroking her hair and rubbing her back. Her emotions were hitting him hard and he realized something deeper was going on with her – it was a lot deeper than the job, it ran thick through her body; inky and black, a poison that she'd not yet been able to expend; the months in to years of unresolved trauma and heartache; it was all coming to a head.

He hated to see it unfold before him, but he was falling too fast for her to ever consider turning her away – for throwing it in the too-hard basket.

He was all in.

She seemed to calm down after a short while. Her body was still shaking; a side effect of the shock of the wave of panic and anxiety that had hit her when she saw her own scars. It wasn't like anything new, she saw them daily but managed to gloss over them, but she had likened them to the current case and it just became too much.

Trevor slowly released her. She was overheating, feeling the sweat pooling beneath her arms. She thought momentarily that he was getting up to leave when he lifted himself off the ground with a little grunt. She saw him reach for a fresh washcloth that was folded up on her towel shelf. Her eyes followed him as he went to the basin and turned the tap on, dampening the wash cloth. He eased himself beside her again.

Olivia sniffed, wiping her eyes, trying to calm down and control her shaking. "You're burning up…" he remarked. He took her hand carefully and wiped her skin with the cold cloth. He gently placed her hand back down and did the same on the other arm. "I'm just going to put this on the back of your neck for a second, okay?" he warned her.

She nodded. He pushed her brown locks over her shoulder and placed the cold press behind her neck. It made her shiver, but she did feel a sense of calm take over; it wasn't just the wash cloth, it was his kindness and his comfort. She acknowledged that he had no idea what was going on and despite it, he stayed and didn't become frustrated or annoyed with her.

His patience was everything.

"Thank you…" she could only manage a whisper.

Once her body temperature evened out, her trembling stopped. "I think you should have your shower," he told her, "I'll make you some tea and when you're done in here you can come and talk to me, or … not." He gave her a reassuring smile.

She nodded her head in agreement. "Thank you…"