Hello! I know you're probably anxious to figure out who the mystery intruder was, so I'll make this short.

A/N: Nothing serious to warn for in this chapter other than a cranky cat. Once again, title and quotes from taxi ride by tori amos.

Next chapter to be posted sometime tomorrow or Thursday (2/1 or 2/2/17). As always, thank you so much for your feedback and please feel free to let me know what you think here or on twitter. :)

{even a glamorous bitch can be in need}

Amanda's standing at the other end of the couch from where you're sitting, hands on her hips and looking more pissed off than you've ever seen her before.

"We were just t-"

"I believe I heard her tell you no. So, whatever it is, it's done."

"I think you misunderstand," Jimmy says, quickly slipping back into that usual suave voice of his. "You see-"

She waves her hand toward the bottle on the table. "Oh, I see. And I think it's time for you to go before I-"

"Amanda? Is there something...?"

You hear Barba's voice calling Amanda's name from somewhere in the squadroom, and Jimmy uses the momentary distraction as his cue to make a quick exit. "Yeah, you better run, you better-"

Their three voices meld together as she follows after him, everybody talking over one another so you can't decipher a single word out of anyone's mouth. It doesn't help that your heart is racing, that there's this tightness in your chest, and every time you inhale the gasps seem to get louder as the amount of oxygen you take in becomes smaller and smaller. Oh god. Your stomach is churning, but how can you throw up if you can't breathe? You'll choke on your own vomit and die right here with everyone standing around yelling just feet away from you and...

"Liv. Liv, honey, deep breaths," you hear Amanda say softly. "It's okay. It's just me." You open your eyes a tiny bit and squint until her face comes into view. The room seems so bright, even with only two desk lamps switched on, and you lift your hand to your face to rub the bridge of your nose. "You're okay, Liv. Do you want some water?"

"No," you say quickly, and it's only then that you realize that your throat feels so tight because there's a giant lump caught in it, one that's rapidly dissolving and turning into liquid as it streams down your face.

"Liv, are you...did he try anything that...?"

You shake your head before she can continue. "'m fine, it's fine, 's nothing."

"I heard you telling him to stop," she says carefully, somewhat skeptically, and you're embarrassed to notice that your blouse is still hanging open with your bra exposed.

"He did, that was all," you insist. You fight with the button for a moment and then get angry when it refuses to cooperate, grabbing your blazer off the back of the couch and throwing it around your shoulders like a cape. "I'm just gonna go home, 'm alright."

You stand up and your knees buckle almost immediately- you're fortunate that the couch is still right there underneath you to break your fall. "Shit, maybe you should go lie down in the cribs for a little bit? I'll stay with you, and-"

"Nope. Not staying here." You're in no condition to venture out into the big wide world, you know this, but you just want to be left alone. "You go. I'll sleep."

"In your office? Maybe not. Is Brian home?"

Brian. He'll know you're drunk. He'll be angry again. He'll know that you... "Don't wanna see him."

"Liv, he's gonna wonder where you are," Amanda points out, because she thinks you have a normal relationship where the other person expects you'll come home each night.

"I don't care."

"What's going on now?" you hear Barba say. He looks over at the glasses and the bottle sitting on your table and you can feel the disapproval rolling off of him in waves. "Is she..."

"We're okay. Just had a little too much to drink," Amanda explains in a tone that would be patronizing under any other circumstances.

"Maybe you should call her a cab before anyone else comes in? He's gone, by the way, I chased him off."

The image of Jimmy literally running away from Barba makes you want to laugh, but once again your mouth opens and the only noise that comes out is the sound of your raspy breathing. Amanda frowns and puts her hand on your shoulder as she looks over at Barba. "I really don't feel right about putting her in a cab alone like this. I guess I could go with her, but-"

"I said I'm fine," you remind them, scowling with your arms wrapped around yourself to try and quell your shaking. There's this vague twinge of embarrassment somewhere in your subconscious, the kind that lets you know how humiliated you're going to be when you sober up. But for now all you feel is numb, wrapped in an imaginary block of ice that digs into your skin every time someone tries to breach the rapidly melting barrier, and part of you wishes Amanda would've just stayed out and let you have sex with him. At least then it would've been over by now and you could be alone. You're good at mentally detaching yourself from that kind of thing, better than you are at ignoring these people with their hushed voices and endless questions. "Just let me sleep. Please."

"I drove. I can take her," Barba says in a less than enthusiastic tone.

You lean your head against the back of the couch, hands over your face like a little girl who thinks that she becomes invisible when she closes her eyes. You can feel phantom fingers in your hair, too many hands, too many people touching you and oh my god you were going to let him fuck you, why the hell didn't you do anything?

"Liv," Amanda says again because she can't shut up, "maybe you should drink some water? Coffee?"

"No." You're barely managing to keep down the liquid you've already consumed tonight. Anything else is just going to come right back up. «swallow. do it or I'll-» nonono, what is it with you letting men push drinks on you? How are you so fucking stupid?

"Okay. But you should...we should probably get you out of here before anyone else shows up. Will you let Barba drop you off at home?"

"Brian," you start to remind her. You hear Barba telling Amanda that she should make sure someone will be waiting there for you, because he's not going to stay all night to babysit. She tells him she'll take care of it and then you hear her tapping on the keypad of her phone. "I don't wanna talk to him."

She either ignores you or doesn't understand what you said, because she's already got him on the line. "Cassidy? Hey. It's Rollins...no, no, it's not. I'm right here with her now."

"Aman-" you croak, eyes wide in horror, because it's just occurred to you that Brian is going to ask her where you've been and what you've been doing. She's going to tell him what she saw, why wouldn't she, and-

She keeps her steady gaze right on you, like she's trying to tell you something. But what? "No, we're at the house...she stayed late to finish some paperwork. I came back from a call and she was here in her office looking sick...yeah. No, she'll be alright. Just needs to rest and sober up. Barba here's gonna give her a ride back to your place...yeah, of course...I just didn't feel right about her being home alone. Can you...hang on. Liv, he wants to talk to you."

"No," you mouth, turning your head and staring hard at the lamp as you bite down on your bottom lip.

"I think she's...yeah. Course. I know. She just doesn't want you to...okay." She pushes a button and holds the phone out toward you, but you refuse to take it or even look at it. "Liv. You don't have to say anything."

"Babe?" you hear Brian asking. "I'm gonna be here waiting when you get home. I'm not pissed, swear to god. Just glad you're okay. I don't wanna argue, all I want is...just come home so I know you're alright."

You nod and Amanda relays this to him. After she hangs up, she cautiously says your name again. "Liv? It's time to get going. I don't want you to get in trouble if anyone else shows up."

And you don't understand this at all, why she's being so nice and why she cares so much about protecting you. Why didn't she tell Brian what she saw happening between you and Jimmy? She could have. Really, it would be her right. But she didn't.

You stand up cautiously, and Amanda holds out one of the sleeves of your coat so that you can get your arm into it. "Get some sleep and I'll see you tomorrow. And don't worry...it's gonna be okay."

Again, you don't understand her kindness. You want to ask her about it, want to thank her, but then you see the way she and Barba are both watching you. The concern and sadness on their faces reminds you of the solemn expressions you saw from everyone you came into contact with last summer, from strangers taking in your black eye and bruised cheeks to your colleagues trying to hide their stares as Brian ushered you past them like a human shield.

You're so, so tired. Of them, of yourself, of your shifting emotions that make you feel even more nauseous than the liquor. "Yeah. Let's go."

{I guess on days like this
you know who your friends are}

Brian was waiting for you at the door when you got off the elevator, Barba right at your back to prod you forward. He had insisted on personally accompanying you upstairs, despite you rejecting his offer of aid, as if he didn't trust you not to disappear into the night or collapse in the lobby. "I don' need a nanny. I've got this."

"Save it," he had replied, throwing the car into park.

Brian was much more sympathetic to your plight, at least outwardly. "Liv. Thank God you're alright."

You nod, shoulders hunched as if you were attempting to curl in on yourself when he tried to reach out for them. He takes a step back from you and frowns.

"It'll be alright. Let's get you changed and into bed so you can warm up," he says softly, misinterpreting your shivering as coldness. "Thanks, man," he tells Barba. "Glad you got her home safe. Appreciate it."

"If you don't mind, maybe we can talk for a few minutes? After you've got her settled, of course. I'll wait."

"Okay, sure. Have a seat wherever you want." He motions toward the living room, where Peanuts is sitting in a chair and eyeing this stranger like don't you even think about it.

Once you and Brian are back in your bedroom, he fills a glass from the bathroom sink and hands it to you along with what you assume is Advil. "You're sure you're okay."

"Yes," you whisper. You both know it's a lie, strictly speaking, but you also know that 'you're okay' doesn't mean that everything's fine. It means you're drunk, you're nearly in some sort of catatonic shock, but you'll live to see tomorrow even though you'll feel worse in the morning than you do right now. You haven't been physically injured, either by yourself or someone else. You're not suicidal and you didn't fuck anyone you weren't supposed to be fucking. This is what passes for 'okay' in your life as of late.

He notices that you're struggling to put your pajamas on but says nothing, just keeps a close eye on you until you're finished. You sit on the edge of the bed with your head bowed and arms folded across your middle. "Are you...ready to lie down?"

"Yeah," you agree, grateful for his gentle reminder of the next step in the process. But before you can get up, he sees the tear tracks that are still silently forming down the length of your face.

"Hey, Liv..." He kneels down in front of you, and this time you don't flinch or even blink when he extends his arm to cup your cheek in his palm. "Don't cry. It's gonna be alright."

You must have given him a look like you didn't believe him, because he blinks and turns his head away for a moment before he turns back toward you with a new resolve on his face.

"It's gonna. I promise you."

He tucks you into bed like a little girl, kissing the top of your head and telling you he'll come back after Barba leaves. He makes sure that your pillows are arranged just the way you like them, that the thermostat is set to the right temperature, and that the wastebasket is beside you on the floor in case of emergencies- but he forgets to close the bedroom door.

And thus you can hear isolated snippets of conversation from down the hall, two tired voices speaking in low tones:

Thanks again, man, I've got it from here. She'll sleep it off...so what'd you want to tell me?...yeah, I know. That's why she goes to therapy, she...ups and downs, this is just a bump in the road...

Brian. It's not my job to intrude on your relationship, I realize that...but I can recognize what's going on here and it's...no, she didn't tell me that. I figured it out myself...has a problem, and you're not doing anyone any favors by enabling her...

I'll talk to her...work this out, she was doing real well. She'll come around...this'll scare her into cutting back and she...

Listen. Cassidy...this really what you want? You...no, I get it, you love her...it's an illness. Probably more than one...won't cure her, you can't love her out of this...

She promised me she'd stop, that...figuring it out. If I can keep her happy, keep her from...

That's exactly what you can't...doing the work for her...has to be her choice and you can't force it...have to let her hit bottom, if that's what it takes...

You're saying I should just...

I am, Brian. If you're always there to rescue her...nothing's going to change.

You continue listening intently, fascinated in the same way you would be while watching a telenovela with Nick.

...want me to take this UC job. At least a month, probably more...but what am I supposed to do?

You take it. You tell her...she'll have to come up with a way to get by on her own. She'll...other people around, if she's willing to let them help...then she has no other option besides getting...from a professional. Not you.

But if she...

Brian. You can't keep...no, you're right. I don't "know your life." But I can see you...that isn't helping anyone. Trust me. You can't...not a game of 'how much can I sacrifice,' it's your life, and you're not...in this case? You're allowed to be selfish. You *need* to be.

You don't get it, you don't...because you're Mr. Big Fancy Lawyer, you can...

Well, I'm...believe it or not, I care about her, and you're not helping...I've been there. You're beaten down. I can see it and...destroy you. What good will that do for her?

So you think I...

Exactly. You walk away while you still can.

The voices get even lower and then you hear the door opening. All these words are swirling around in your head, and you know that they're trying to tell you something if only you could string them together in some sort of coherent pattern. But you can't.

By morning, you'll have forgotten that you heard the conversation at all.

Brian kept his word and climbed into bed next to you shortly after that. Your plan was to pretend that you were asleep, but that was foiled as soon as your stomach lurched and sent you hustling to the bathroom as fast as your wobbly legs could carry you.

And Brian was right by your side as you threw up all that expensive liquor, holding your hair back to keep it away from your face, and for once the touch didn't even cause you to flinch. In fact, you might have deliberately jerked your head forward a few times just to feel the tug on your makeshift ponytail. It didn't make you feel any better. It didn't make you feel anything at all, really, and you weren't sure whether that was the effect of the residual alcohol in your system or if it's just one more thing you've become numb to.

You used to feel things. Sometimes you felt way too much. «you're a fuckin animal, aren't you?»

You lie down right there on the tile floor and sob, head resting on Brian's lap. He puts his hand on your shoulder, rubbing your arm, and says nothing.

But you think he cried too.

{we've all been pushed too far today}

"Liv?"

"What?!" You had just gotten to bed, and now this dumbass is waking you up?

"I'm sorry. I wanted to let you sleep. But it's 10 o'clock and-" You throw the comforter off in a panic, sitting up and almost immediately feeling the urge to vomit again. Bad idea. "Liv, it's okay. I already called Fin and let him know you weren't going to make it in today, because...uh, I didn't think you'd make it in today."

You flop back down to the mattress, cursing yourself when your head hits a pillow that feels like it must be made of metal. "So what are you doing, Brian."

"Barba wants to meet with you. I told him you'd be down there at noon."

"Wait, what? And why?"

You can hear the soft rustling sound as he shrugs, and it might as well have been a giant gong being struck right next to your ears. "Dunno. Didn't say."

"Huh." You try to mentally unravel the tangled heap of memories from last night...you drank too much and got sick. Barba gave you a ride home. You were in your office, with him and Amanda and...oh. Jimmy. You were talking and then he was kissing you and you froze, he was trying to feel you up and you told him to stop and then Amanda walked in, she was shouting at him and he was shouting back and then Barba showed up and Amanda told him to take you home...oh god. This was bad. "I don't think I can, I'll have to..."

"You should try to make it, Liv, it sounded like it was pretty important."

"What'd he tell you? Whatever he thinks he- I didn't. It's not what you think. Don't listen to him," you plead.

"Calm down, okay? You're gonna make yourself sick...er," Brian corrects himself to say. "Like I said, he didn't tell me shit. Is there something I'm missing here?"

You shake your head and force yourself into a standing position, grabbing the first items of clothing you can find even though you're fairly sure they're the same ones you were wearing yesterday. "No. I...I was drunk, that's all. That's all."

"Yeah," you hear him say, mostly to himself, as you close the bathroom door. "I got that."

{I'm glad you're on my side still}