Hello friends! Thank you so much for your patience- it's been the week from hell but I finally got this done. And as always, thank you to everyone who's given me more love and encouragement than I could've ever thought possible. I love you all to death.

A/N: FYI, There's a dream sequence in this chapter that's notated by the italics. This chapter starts a few hours after where the last one left off and takes us up to Liv waking up at the very beginning of Jersey Breakdown, for those of you who are curious about the timeline. No explicit sex or violence, but the last scene is still a bit on the disturbing side. Title and all quotes from breathe by Anna Nalick.

Come be my friend on twitter! lucythespencer

{can you help me unravel my latest mistake?
I don't love him, winter just wasn't my season}

You were lying on the couch, not doing much of anything, when Nick walked in. His eyes got wide when he saw you, looking as sheepish as a kid who's been caught sneaking in after curfew. "Hey."

You're not in the mood for pleasantries. "How's Amanda?"

"What makes you think I'd know?" he scoffs, like this is all some sort of wacky joke.

"Cut the bullshit, Nick, I know you were with her. So how long?"

"How long?"

"Since you started screwing her!" You push yourself up onto your elbows and lift your head off the arm of the couch.

"Does it mat-"

"Yes! It does. She's your coworker, and I have a right to know if members of my squad are involved with each other."

"Cause you always kept Cragen up to date on who you were doing after hours."

You sit up all the way, cursing the fact that you'd only had time to gulp down a single glass of wine between the time Brian left for the store and the time Nick came home. "Elliot and I never-"

"I wasn't even talking about him, I was talking about Brian!" Nick says, arms crossed over his chest. "See? You have no room to judge, Liv. Who was the last person you had sex with that you didn't meet through work?"

You don't remember his name. Granted, it was over two years ago...but you probably forgot his name within 48 hours anyway. Whatever, it's irrelevant. "That's none of your business! So what is this thing with Amanda? Are you just hooking up? Is it a 'relationship'...Nick, may I remind you you're still married?"

"Are you seriously going to lecture me about cheating? Seriously? Because you're about the last person I'm going to take advice from...get your own house in order and then we'll talk."

"This isn't about me. And I don't want you getting involved with her. She's got issues, Nick, she needs to work through some shit and sleeping with a married man isn't going to help her. Plus you need to focus on yourself right now." He laughs, shaking his head. "Was that funny?"

"Do you hear what you just said? How are me and Amanda any different than you and Elliot?"

How is that even a question? Amanda's too suggestable, she's probably convinced herself that they're in love and he's going to leave Maria and they'll have this whole happily ever after just because they had sex a couple of times. "For one? He and I don't work together. And for another thing...well, uh..."

"Well, what? Tell me what sneaking off to bang Elliot is accomplishing for you- nah, don't give me that look, I'm not a fucking moron. You think I didn't know what was going on?"

"I thought you liked Elliot," you say, deftly maneuvering around the question.

"I don't really give a fuck about him either way. You're the one I care about," he says, taking a seat on the far end of the couch, "and the only reason I've covered for you is cause I want you to be happy...but I don't think you are. You guys were obviously fighting yesterday-"

"Oh my god, what is it with everyone being obsessed with us fighting-"

"Liv. Like I just said, it was obvious. And I'm not gonna ask why but...what, then he apologized so you let him fuck you right there? I mean, what the hell were you thinking?"

You inhale sharply and turn your head away from him, elbow propped on the armrest and palm covering your mouth. "That's not what happened," you mumble.

"Hey." You hear him move closer to you, hand touching your upper arm gently. "What's going on? Did he hurt you? Did he say something about...I swear to God, Liv, whatever he did, if he did anything to upset you again, I'm going to beat the living shit out of him."

"Jesus, will you calm down? It was nothing. It wasn't his fault."

"So which was it? Look...I ran into Brian on the way up. He told me what happened last night. And that it wasn't the first time."

"Oh, you two are going behind my back now? He had no right to tell you that!" you say, once again feeling that familiar rage bubbling just under your skin.

"He's worried! It's not like we're talking shit about you for fun."

"What'd you say to him?!"

"Liv. Relax. All he wanted to know was how I thought you were doing at work, or when he wasn't around. And I said I hadn't noticed anything...I dunno," he says, scratching his cheek nervously. "I told him I thought you were doing well with...everything, but now I'm not sure."

"Since when do you believe him over me?" In all honesty, you really hadn't ever been drunk in front of Nick. You might have a drink or two if he did, just because he didn't give you a guilt trip about it the way Brian does, but that was it. You didn't need to when Nick was around.

"I'm not calling you a liar. I promise, I believe you. I always do. But he's seriously worried, Liv...he says you've been cutting yourself. For a while now."

"No," you say firmly, even as your voice wobbles. It's been easy enough to hide any suspicious marks from Nick's prying eyes, seeing as how it's winter and so long sleeves and pants are perfectly normal anyway. "Now that, that's a lie."

"Is it?"

"Nick. After what he...do you think I want anything with a blade anywhere near my skin?" It was the truth- it'd been months since you even picked up a non-electric razor, ever since you had a complete meltdown when you accidentally cut your ankle shaving. Brian had been at work that night, of course, but all it had taken was one text to Elliot (hey. you there?) and he appeared seemingly in seconds and stayed until just before sunrise the next morning.

But. That was a long time ago.

"Hey," he says softly, voice sounding appropriately guilt-ridden. "He's just scared, that's all. He doesn't want anything to happen to you...and neither do I. You're mi hermana, right? I love you, and I know you don't believe me, but he does too. Or, he wants to. But you've gotta let him."

You shake your head again because you don't know what to say, looking down at your hands. "He didn't ask you about...if Elliot and I were..."

"Uh. Well, he-"

The jingle of keys interrupted you before he could finish his answer, and the question was forgotten.

For now.

{there's a light at each end of this tunnel, you shout
cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
and these mistakes you make, you'll just make them again
if you'd only try turning around}

"He's doing it again," Brian grumbles.

"Hmm." You look over at him from where you're lying on the bed, waiting for him to join you. He had decided he would get to sleep early tonight so that he could go in early tomorrow and leave in time for you to have dinner together. You suppose this is part of his plan to spend more time with you, but if it was anything like dinner tonight, you could have the same experience dining with a wall. Even Nick was unusually silent, and he loved 'family' meals. Most of the time you couldn't get him to shut up: 'isn't this great, you guys? I love this. I feel like I could do this with you every night.' But today you all picked silently at your food, eyes on your own plates, until Brian finally spoke up.

"So get this, my buddy has a theory that the Russians stole that missing plane. Did you know there's a secret airstrip in this remote part of Kazakhstan that's big enough to land a triple-seven? It never crashed! Putin's been hiding it on land!"

"I've said that for months now," you point out, annoyed that he obviously hasn't been paying attention.

"You ever been to Kazakhstan?" Nick asks Brian.

"No, dude, why do you keep asking me if I've been to all these places?"

"I'm tired, I think I'll go rest," you announce as you push back your chair and stand up to leave. Behind you, you can hear Brian bitching about you not sticking around to hear the rest of his story.

And now he's back to bitching about Nick and his fondness for sitting around the apartment shirtless and barefoot, both of which apparently should be capital crimes in Brian's world. "Again, Bri, what is he hurting?"

"Me! I don't wanna look at his fucking feet and I don't wanna have to look past a half naked guy to watch TV."

Your phone rings and you lunge for it, hurrying into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you so that you can talk in private. "Kathy?"

"I just thought I'd let you know Elliot called," she says, sounding far from enthused. "He said he hadn't talked to you."

"He didn't." You think she's almost disappointed by this, like part of her was enjoying being able to pin the blame on you.

"He's in Cherry Hill with Frank."

Frank was Elliot's oldest brother, with whom he shared nothing in common other than DNA and a stint in the marines. "But he hates Frank."

"I'm aware of that, Olivia."

Okay then. "So he's back home now?"

"No. He's...look, I told you I'd let you know when I found where he was. But this is really something we need to work out as a family," and the implication is loud and clear, that you're not family, you're an unwanted interloper at best and you'd better not forget your place. "I need to get back to the kids now. It's been a long couple of days."

"Right, I-" was all you managed to get out before you realized that you were talking to yourself. You take a deep breath before you walk back out into the bedroom, where Brian's waiting with a worn out look on his face. "So she found Elliot. He's at his brother's."

"Oh. Well...that's good, right?"

"No, it's not. His brother's an ass. And Kathy doesn't seem to think he's on his way home anytime soon, and Frank...Frank's had about five wives. He gets these mail order brides and then once they learn enough English to stand up for themselves, he dumps them for being too 'mouthy'. Plus he drinks. It's not like he's going to encourage him to solve anything...at least not constructively, anyway."

"Uh-huh. Again, what's Kathy want you to do about it?"

"Nothing! She told me they needed to work it out as a family and then basically hung up on me," and it's not just guilt that you feel anymore, it's transformed into a literal ache somewhere low in your stomach and your first thought is goddamn, if only you had a couple drinks to dull the pain...

But you don't, because you have Brian sitting right here, and then he has to make things worse by agreeing with her. "Good. Let 'em, it's none of your business."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying it's none of your business. Weren't you just complaining this morning that you had no idea what he's doing? Now you're bitching because she doesn't want you involved. There's nothing you can do, so let them handle it."

Brian, like Kathy, obviously doesn't understand how you and Elliot's relationship works. "But if he's not coming home, he's going to end up doing something stu-"

"Liv."

"What?!"

"Could we maybe try not talking about Elliot for once? Just for tonight?" He groans, just in case you didn't get the message that you're irritating him, and leans his head back against the headboard.

"'For once'? You act like I talk about him constantly."

"Liv. Humor me?"

You sit down on the edge of the bed, your back turned from him so he can't see your sour expression as you check your phone one more time. No new texts. "I can't believe Nick's screwing Amanda and didn't tell me."

"Oh for fuck's sake..."

"What? It's got nothing to do with Elliot." You tuck one leg underneath the other so you can face him although he's decidedly not looking at you. "How am I supposed to be in charge if I don't know what, or who, people are doing behind my back?"

"Are you pissed as a boss, or as a friend? Cause if you didn't know until now, then I'd say it's not affecting their job and you should just pretend you never heard about it."

"That's your advice?" What happened to Mr. IAB-follow-the-rules?

"Yeah, it is, cause I think you're really just mad that he didn't ask your opinion first...but forget it. I don't wanna argue about this any more than I wanna talk about Elliot. Let's just go to bed, okay?"

"So you think I-"

"I'm not gonna fight with you tonight," and he always does this, drops a bomb and then decides that the conversation's over, conveniently giving himself the last word. And then, of course, if you ask why he gets to be the one who decides these things, then you're the one who's being difficult.

You switch off the lamp without comment, and you're not even sure how long you both lie there silently in the dark before you hear him shifting around. "Babe?"

"Mmm," you hum, resisting the urge to say something about how nice it is that he's decided you can talk again.

"About this afternoon...I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to scare you."

"You didn't," you say automatically, even before you can hear the sound of breaking glass reverberating in your mind.

"Well." The skepticism in his voice lets you know he's not even going to bother pretending to believe you. "I shouldn't have anyway. Kinda makes me a hypocrite to say I know I know I've been an asshole one minute and then start yelling the next."

"It's fine. You were mad, I get it," you say, hoping he'll take the hint to stop talking and let you (not) sleep.

"Yeah. I just..." You can almost hear him thinking, mentally debating something or another, and you want to tell him that the longer he does, the more likely it is that whatever comes out of his mouth should've just stayed there. "We were good, up until...the last few days before this were good, right?"

That wasn't what you expected to hear, not at all. But it was the truth. Brian had been off work all week so he had dinner ready when you (and Nick) got home. You would talk and joke around while you ate and then go relax on the couch watching hockey games or Nick's telenovelas, and then after Avenida Brasil the two of you would ditch Nick (and make sure the bedroom door was locked behind you. Can't trust that little brat). But it felt nice. It felt like having a family, unconventional as it may be, and the sex was preferable to getting in another stupid argument every night. There was something to be said for going to bed next to someone and being content rather than waiting for them to hurry up and fall asleep so you can go cry (or drink) in private. "It...yeah. It was."

He's still not looking at you even though you've turned on your side to face him, but when you silently, hesitantly put your hand over his and squeeze, he returns the gesture. You think about yesterday morning before you left for the Stablers, before you fucked everything up again, about how you're always wary of imbuing sex with too much emotion but that was one time where you just couldn't help it, because for once you felt nothing but loved and safe and okay.

And maybe things could've stayed like that. Maybe Nick's right, maybe Brian does truly love you and this is your (only?) chance to have something real, something lasting, and the only one standing in the way of that happening is you. You won't let him love you, even when he's the only one you haven't managed to run off, even when he's right there next to you and it would be so easy to give in. Because you don't like easy. You don't believe in it, and that's why this'll never work, why you'll keep sabotaging yourself in the name of chasing something you shouldn't want.

You let go of his hand so you can reach for your phone. No new messages.

You stare at the dark screen and wait for Brian to fall asleep.

{they walk through the door, so accusing their eyes
like they have any right at all to criticize
hypocrites, we're all here for the very same reason}

As soon as you walk into the squad room, you hear Cragen's voice calling you. "Liv. There's someone waiting for you in the interrogation room."

You're in such a hurry that you don't even notice who that someone is until you've already shut the door behind you. To your horror, you reach for the doorknob only to find that it's gone. You're trapped.

"Hi there, sweetheart...it's so good to see you again. We've got a lot to catch up on, don't we?" He's handcuffed to the table, but that doesn't stop you from backing into the corner of the room to get as much distance between you as possible.

"What do you want."

"Hey, that's no way to talk to an old friend, is it? Sit down." You don't know why but you do as he says, pushing the chair away from the table to make sure you're not within his reach. "So you've really gone off the deep end since the last time we saw each other, huh?"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

He grins. "Sure you do. And I gotta tell you, there aren't enough bottles of wine in the world to get rid of that kind of guilt. How do you even sleep at night? Oh, that's right...you don't. You drink until you pass out or you lie awake and try to pretend the guilt isn't eating you away from the inside out. Man. You torture yourself better than I ever could."

"I *said*, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm fine."

"No one believes you when you say that, Olivia. We're all onto you."

You almost tip your chair over in shock as you turn your head toward the familiar female voice. "Mom? Where...how did you get here?"

"Never you mind. It's not important."

"You...you shouldn't be here," you say, pointing toward your other visitor. "You have to get away from him. He's a monster, he-"

"I'm already dead. There's nothing he can do to me now. You're the one who's trouble- just like you've always been. I knew it from the day you were born. I should've abandoned you at the hospital and ran away like I wanted to. I would've been better off. Instead I end up sacrificing my entire life...for what, Olivia?"

"I...I'm...I don't know," you stutter, flustered at having the mother you haven't seen in over a dozen years sitting in front of you while *he's* watching you with that big demented grin. "I'm sorry, mom, I'm..."

"You're sorry? That's all you have to say?"

"Yeah, really, is that any way to treat the woman who raised you?" he chimes in, shaking his head sadly.

"Shut up. Just shut the fuck up. You're not a part of this. Mom, I...it wasn't my fault," you say pleadingly. "Whatever he's told you, it's all lies. I promise."

"I don't need to hear it from him. I can see everything just fine for myself, so don't bother trying to convince me otherwise. This is the kind of thing I warned you about, but you never listened, did you? I told you to stop throwing yourself at every strange man that came along and you ignored me."

"I didn't throw myself at him!"

You hear someone scoffing from behind you. "Actually, she kinda did."

"No. Never."

"You wanted me from the second you laid eyes on me. I could *smell* it coming off you."

"Fuck you. No." You turn back to your mom to argue your case again. "He was obsessed with me. I don't know why but I wasn't leading him on, I swear, I know that's what you always told me I did but-"

"I did, and I told you the police force was no place for a girl like you who makes herself an easy target. But you thought you knew better than me, didn't you? Thought you were invincible, that there's no way you could end up a *victim*. All your life you've been so desperate to prove that we're nothing alike, that you're so superior to me."

"That's not true."

"If I may, I'd like to disagree," he says in his best lawyer voice, the one you still hear in your head every day saying things like «I think it's important for the jury to know if Detective Benson was giving out mixed signals». "You spent the whole time we were together begging me not to fuck you, willingly letting me do all the sick shit I could think of with you-"

"No. No! I-"

"And for what? Because to you, nothing would be worse than having to admit you ended up exactly like your mom. You would rather stand up there in that courtroom and tell total strangers that I had my tongue in your-"

"Mom, don't listen to him, he-"

"-and you fucking loved it, that you-"

"No, just shut up, just-"

Your mother stands up and drops one of her thick textbooks onto the table, startling you both into silence. "You're giving me a goddamn headache!"

You mutter an apology purely out of habit and are surprised to hear him mumble one of his own, looking strangely contrite for someone who was gloating about raping you not two seconds prior.

Serena taps her nails on the table, shaking her head slightly at you. "All your life you've been judging me. 'My mom was a drunk. My mom never cared about me.' Or as I heard you put it so eloquently once, 'my mom couldn't keep her shit together.' And now you realize...it's not so easy, is it?"

"No. No, I didn't-"

"Think about those scars you have. How many times you've scrubbed your skin raw or scratched yourself until you're all bloody just so you won't have to look at them...because every time you see them, you remember what he did to you. That's what you were to me."

"I know, I know and I'm sorry, I-"

"I wished I was dead. Every single day of my life. But I did the best I could- and still you grew up to be a filthy little slut. I told you one thing about men, Olivia, one thing, and that was to-"

"Never let your guard down," you finish. "But-"

"I don't want to hear your excuses. You walked right into his trap, but that's not surprising- with the kind of men you spread your legs for, I'm only surprised it hadn't happened sooner."

You can hear your unwelcome audience member snickering, still with that smirk on his face like he's loving every minute of watching this mother/child reunion, but you pretend not to notice. "I'm not like that anymore, Mom, I swear to God I'm not..."

"Not what? You think I don't know how disgusting you are?"

"We all know that," he says, and you're screaming at him to shut up but somehow the words are dying silently on your tongue. "What? You wanted it rough and I gave it to you. I know what goes on in your head, sweetheart, I know everything you're too much of a good girl to ask for."

"No. You have no idea what I want."

"You sure about that? You remember our little game we played, don't you, how-"

"Enough! Young man, this is between my daughter and myself, and I don't believe I asked for your input."

"Sorry," he grumbles under his breath.

Your mom rolls her eyes wearily. "As I was about to say before I was interrupted...I didn't raise you to be a woman who lets a married man fuck her in his own home like some sort of whore. You think you can make him love you that way? You're nothing more than a toy to him. He's using you- but I suppose maybe you like that."

"I don't care, Mom, I don't care what happens as long as he goes back home. That's all I want."

"And you only want that so you can stop feeling guilty about destroying his family- again. Otherwise you'd have already ran back to him for more."

"No."

She laughs bitterly and from behind you, you can hear him doing the same. "Oh, really? Should we talk about how many marriages you've wrecked before?"

"You think that's the only thing I feel guilty about? Cause I know whatever happens with Kathy, he's never gonna forgive me for...for what happened at his house yesterday, for making him feel like he...I put him in a horrible position and I get that, okay, there's nothing you can do or say to make me feel any worse because I know I'm fucked up. I hate myself enough for all of us," you say, gesturing with an outstretched arm, "so-"

"Hey, I don't hate you," he says, like he's offended you would even think such a thing.

"Really? Then why won't you just leave me the fuck alone?"

"C'mon, what fun would that be? I'd miss you so much...and you'd miss getting off on hearing my voice in your head while you're fucking someone else's husband." He chuckles, amused at himself. "Wait, what am I saying? We both know what really did it for you was thinking about him and your dumbass boyfriend taking turns on you-"

"Enough!" you shout, knocking your chair to the floor as you stand up, your whole body swaying back and forth. "I can't do this anymore, I can't keep waking up every morning disappointed that I'm not dead yet- you were right, Mom," you admit, your eyes begging her for some sort of understanding, some sort of forgiveness. "I should've just let him kill me. I'm sorry I didn't listen, I'm sorry I turned out like *this*. Like everything you didn't want me to be."

She seems unmoved by your admission, lips pursed together as she gives you the tiniest of nods. "I wish it hadn't happened to you," she finally concedes. "But if you're asking me for sympathy- then the answer is no. You brought this all on yourself."

Your eyes immediately drop to the floor as you nod back, but you don't say a thing because what *is* there to say, there's nothing and you need to get away from her, from him, from yourself, and you're pounding on the door screaming for someone to let you out when his voice stops you once again.

"Hey, one more thing before you go...remember that fight you had with dumbass the day before we had our little adventure?"

No. Nonono. "How do you know about that? You shouldn't...no. No. You don't, there's no way you could know..."

"Just wanted to make sure you hadn't forgotten," he says with a casual shrug. "That's all. You have a nice day, sweetheart."

No, you don't know what the fight was about...that'll remain a mystery for another chapter, although I do welcome your predictions! :D