A/N: It's 9pm and I've just finished work and then remembered I had only written half of this chapter. I hope the tiredness doesn't show!

Olivia rolled over and repositioned the pillow beneath her head. Settling back down, she grimaced as she realised she was never going to get comfortable. While she had been brought up to never inconvenience her host, a part of her regretted not taking Amanda up on her offer of the bed. This couch was not comfortable. It was not so much the lack of softness but rather the fact that her feet either dangled off the edge or her knees were bent awkwardly into the back of the piece of furniture.

She rolled onto her back, knees pointing upwards, arms now stretching over the armrest of the couch and dangling behind her as she watched the sliver of sky around the edges of the blind light up, dazzling white, as the storm continued to rage outside. She could hear the relentless rain pounding the window but all other city sounds were drowned out. For once, New York City was asleep, except for the rain. And the thunder.

In that moment, Olivia was thinking she'd made the wrong decision when she accepted the invitation to stay over. A drenching dash down Manhattan's sodden streets back to her own apartment would at least have allowed her to sleep once she got there. Well, once she'd taken a shower and warmed up again. As it was, she knew she was facing a sleepless night.

Her phone told her it was after three in the morning. She'd been lying here, awake, for hours. At one point, she almost drifted off but the knobbly edge of the couch cushion against her hip had dragged her back to consciousness. So much for returning to work refreshed. She was going to be more tired when morning finally broke than she was when she walked out of the precinct.

But she couldn't regret her decision to accompany Amanda home that night. First their enjoyable walk around the park, reminding Olivia that the city did have some green spaces which perhaps deserved more of her time. And then their evening conversation. The way the blonde listened as she talked about Elliot, the way she seemed to understand, accept what Olivia was saying.

She hadn't spoken about Elliot much in the months since his departure. Fin had tried to broach the subject with her a few weeks after the man had put in his papers but Olivia's reaction had made damn sure the detective would never ask again. She had apologised the following day but the topic had clearly been marked as off-limits. At the time, Olivia had been grateful; happy to throw herself into work and try to erase the pain.

Five months later, however, and the woman had started to gain some perspective. She had had time to think, to assess, to critique, even, the partnership to which she had so fiercely clung to, defended with every fibre of her being. While she cherished the memories, there was a small part of her, a part which had found its voice with Amanda, that recognised some of the more negative elements of what she and Elliot had shared.

That night had been the first time Olivia had voiced those thoughts, however. She didn't know why. She didn't know what it was about Amanda that made her talk.

No, that was a lie. She knew.

She may not have known before the final part of the conversation that evening but she knew now. The look in Amanda's bright blue eyes; the intensity and sincerity of her words. The way she had so vehemently defended Olivia's opinion of herself. The way she had insisted that the brunette was wrong, that she wasn't seeing the truth. Or at least the truth through Amanda's eyes.

Olivia had to admit, if the younger woman was telling the truth, she preferred that view. She wanted to see herself that way; of course she did. But it was easier said than done.

For some reason, however, a thought had been planted in that moment. No, not a thought, a conviction. If anyone could make Olivia see herself in that way, it would be Amanda.

The realisation had been creeping through her sleep-deprived mind during the small hours of the morning until it reached Olivia's consciousness, strong enough to make itself heard. Believed? Well, perhaps not yet. But Olivia was certainly aware of her mind's conclusion as to what she felt for the younger detective.

She sat up suddenly, whipping her head around towards the sound of a shout. But then there was silence. Except for the storm outside. Instinctively, however, Olivia threw off the blankets and reached for her gun. She sat on the edge of the couch, listening.

Another shout, quieter this time, but distinctive. She got to her feet, making her way down the corridor towards the closed door of Amanda's bedroom. Outside, she paused, heart pounding. On the other side of the door, there was the sound of whining. Frannie, she was sure. But then she heard a whimper too. That was human.

She knocked on the wood. "Amanda?"

There was no answer except for the sound of clattering paws as the dog jumped off her owner's bed and trotted over to the door. Olivia knocked again, calling out the detective's name a little louder. Again, she got no answer. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and peered around the edge as Frannie nosed at her thigh.

"Amanda?" she called for a third time into the dark room.

The whimper which came from the middle of the bed wasn't the answer Olivia wanted but it was all she needed to hear. Placing her gun on the dresser by the door, she made her way through the gloom to the edge of the bed. Through the darkness, she could see the small frame of the blonde woman, tangled in her sheets as she moaned and wriggled, as if trying to get away from something.

"Amanda," Olivia said a little louder, reaching out to place her hand on the blonde's shoulder.

The body jerked away from her, the southerner letting out a yell of fear and an arm thrashed out towards Olivia. Frannie jumped up on the bed, pushing her nose into Amanda's face and licking her owner's cheek as if trying to wake her up. Olivia stood watching, unsure what to do. But before she could make a decision, the blonde let out a gasp.

"Frannie," she mumbled, reaching out to pat the dog who gave her a final lick before settling down, nuzzling her nose beneath her owner's chin. "Good dog. Thank you."

"Um…"

"Fuck!" Amanda yelled, scrambling to sit up and lunging across the bed to turn on the lamp.

"Sorry, it's me. Olivia. It's Olivia Benson, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"Liv," Amanda said, running her hand through her hair as her eyes squinted in the light now pooling across her room, "shit, I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting …"

"To see me standing beside your bed in the middle of the night?" Olivia joked. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I just heard, I mean, you were … but Frannie seemed to know what to do, so, yeah, look, I'm gonna go back to the couch."

She turned to walk away but hadn't got more than a couple of strides before Amanda spoke.

"It's why I got her."

"Excuse me?"

"Frannie. It's why I got her. She knows how to wake me up when the nightmares come. I'm guessing you figured that was what happened."

"I guessed. I heard you shouting."

"Yep, that's what happens. Stupid subconscious brain, am I right? I'm sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't wake me."

"I didn't?"

Olivia shrugged. "I kind of haven't been able to get to sleep yet."

"Shit, is the couch really that bad?" Amanda asked, horrified at the idea of her guest not being able to sleep. "Take my bed, seriously, Liv. Frannie and I sleep out there all the time."

The blonde was already climbing out of her bed, exposing bare legs and tiny sleep shorts which accompanied the old t-shirt she was wearing, before Olivia managed to speak. "No, it's fine. Honestly, Amanda, I don't mind. And it sounds like you've not been sleeping too well recently either."

"No," Amanda sighed, slumping back onto the mattress and then leaning against the headboard. "It's not great. But Frannie helps."

"You know what else helps? Talking."

For whatever reason, something inside Olivia told her that her colleague might be willing to open up in that moment. Perhaps it was the fact that she was already showing a vulnerability. Perhaps it was the way their conversation had ended the night before. Whatever it was, there was a pause before Amanda threw back the covers from the empty side of the bed. Olivia raised her eyebrows.

"Get in," Amanda clarified. "If you really wanna talk about this, the least I can do is offer you a comfortable place to sit. Clearly my couch isn't up to scratch."

There was a moment of hesitation before Olivia perched on the edge of the mattress, as far from the blonde as she could be without falling out. Amanda raised an eyebrow and then tossed the duvet over the detective's legs.

"So," Olivia said when the blonde didn't speak. "Do you have nightmares often?"

"Yeah, I guess. But I hate that term. It makes me sound like a little kid who's scared of monsters. And the nightmares I have aren't make-believe, let me tell you."

"Are they memories?" Olivia asked, the question guided by instinct. And experience.

Amanda nodded sharply, patting the bed beside her, action which Frannie immediately obeyed and curled herself up between the two women. The blonde started stroking her faithful pet's head as she searched for the right words.

"It's always the same one. And I know how it ends. Hell, I was there. I don't know why it affects me so much. I react much worse asleep than I did at the time. At the time, well, I just lay there. It was a situation I had gotten myself into. I knew what I was doing. I made a choice. I didn't scream and cry or anything. But when I dream about it, I dunno, I guess something inside me does what I wish I'd done at the time."

Olivia had spent decades talking to victims of sexual assault. She knew what Amanda was alluding to. She understood what she was talking about. And yet, there were so many details missing. Over the years, in her role, she had learned to gently coax information out of a survivor. But she suspected those techniques wouldn't work on Amanda. After all, she knew them herself. But Olivia did need more to go on that what the younger detective had offered so far.

"This is someone down in Georgia, right? A cop?"

"Yeah, it's one of the reasons why I moved. I couldn't stay working under him."

"He was your superior officer?"

Another nod. Olivia felt her blood boil at the realisation that someone whose role it was to protect, mentor and support the blonde had taken advantage of his superior position and power and, she assumed, pressured the woman into something she wasn't comfortable with.

"Is he still on the job?"

"Yeah and I'm not telling you his name so don't even ask. It doesn't matter anyway. He's not in my life any more. I left. I survived, right? That's what we always say."

"Yes, you did and that's important but it sounds like you may still have some unresolved issues you've not yet addressed."

"Issues?" Amanda asked, looking at Olivia for the first time since they started talking. The brunette was almost surprised to see that there were no tears in those brilliant azure eyes.

"You may take umbrage with that word but what would you call a recurring nightmare?" Olivia asked, reluctant to back down from what she'd said. "It's clearly a problem. Amanda, you got a dog to wake you up every time it happens so I'm guessing it's not a once in a blue moon occurrence. How often does this happen?"

Amanda shrugged. "Few nights a week. It's ok though. Frannie wakes me and then I go back to sleep. You know, unless my creepy colleague is watching me in which case I chat about my stupid life choices for a while."

Rolling her eyes, Olivia reached out and placed her hand Amanda's shoulder. "Stop blaming yourself. You did nothing wrong."

"You don't know what I did," Amanda shot back, moving away so that Olivia's hand slid down to the sheet. "And you know what? I don't regret what I did. Not really. I did what I had to do in the moment. I was protecting my family." At that point, the blonde's voice cracked with emotion.

Olivia's face creased in confusion. "Amanda, sweetheart," she began softly. "I think I'm going to need some more information. I know you don't want to talk about this and I understand that. If you don't feel like sharing anything more with me at the moment, that's fine. I'll go back to the couch and you can go back to sleep. But if you do want to talk, tonight or next week or next year or whenever, I'm here."

There was a long pause before; "ok."

A/N: next chapter will have discussion of a sexual assault.