Warning for explicit content. Reader discretion is advised.

I get the call at three in the morning. Assuming we've caught another case, I roll over and answer my phone with a groggy, "Benson."

"Liv?" says an uncertain voice that makes my heart stop. Alex.

"What's the matter?" I ask, sitting bolt upright in bed.

"I couldn't sleep," she says softly.

"I know. Today was really stressful."

I can tell she's rolling her eyes. "Don't patronize me."

"Sorry," I say immediately. "Hey, why don't you come over to my place? We can be insomniacs together."

"Okay," she whispers, relief evident in her voice. "I'll be there in ten."

"See you in ten," I echo, hanging up the phone.

Groaning, I jump out of bed and throw a sweatshirt on over the tank top I was sleeping in. I rake my fingers through my matted hair and finally give up, pulling it back into a ponytail. I'm not exactly sure why, but I want to look good for Alex.

She rings the doorbell approximately ten minutes later and I open the door. She's a mess, her blonde hair hanging limply over her face. The dark bags under her eyes make it look as if she hasn't slept in about a year and she's wearing an oversized long sleeved t-shirt and sweatpants. I've never seen her dressed down like this before. "Come in," I invite her, stepping aside.

She mutely follows me into the living room and curls up on one edge of the couch, covering herself with a blanket.

I sit down beside her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," she says softly, but the choked-up quality of her voice belies her next statement. "I'm fine."

"Okay," I agree, even though I know she's lying. She's trying to be brave and not show me her vulnerability.

She sighs, wrapping her arms around herself. Resting her head on the armrest of my couch, she whispers, "Liv?"

"Yeah?"

She stares at her hands. "I'm sorry."

This time I can't help myself. I reach out and envelop her in a hug. She flinches at first at the unexpected touch, but then leans into it, letting out a shuddering sigh. "You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetie."

Her head snaps up and she starts to tremble, her blue eyes endless pools of fear.

For a moment, I'm confused, wondering what I did wrong. But then I realize my mistake and mentally kick myself. Massaging her back comfortingly, I correct myself. "Alex. I would never hurt you, Alex. You never need to worry."

She sighs, the tension in her body dissipating slightly. "I know. It's been twenty years and it's just hard. Remembering."

I nod and continue to rub soothing circles into her back. "If you ever want to talk, Alex, I'm here. For anything."

Closing her eyes, Alex leans back to rest her head on my shoulder. The action surprises me at first, and I have to wonder whether it's because she wants comfort right now or if it's something more. But now isn't the time to think about things like that.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, my arms wrapped around her, trying to create for Alex the cocoon of safety that she's never had before. I can feel her muscles relaxing and mindlessly run my fingers through her long blonde hair. She looks up in surprise, but doesn't pull away.

Finally, she says in a low voice, "It started when I was four."

My hands still for a moment and I wonder if she's going to tell me about her father. For a second, I wonder if I really want to know, but then I go back to stroking her hair, waiting for her to go on. My pain is worth it if it helps to alleviate some of hers.

"It was innocuous at first," she continues after a moment. "He bathed me, watched me change. Almost but not quite innocent. And then he started to touch me. At night. Or when my mother wasn't home. He came into my room and he would . . ." She takes a deep breath, struggling to keep her voice level. "He raped me. Every night for twelve years. And I never told anyone until now." She sighs and leans into me again, but I know there's more that she wants to say and stay silent. "He hit me when I did something he didn't like. He hit my mother too, and then Jenna." She stares at her lap. "I tried to protect her. I tried to take it for her. And when he started . . . raping . . . her, she told me. And there was nothing I could do about it. I tried to help her, but sometimes he didn't want me. He just wanted her. She was younger, prettier. More innocent. He liked that. And sometimes . . ." She lets out a shuddering breath. "Sometimes he wanted both of us. And what Daddy wants, Daddy gets," she adds ruefully.

I blink back the tears rushing to my eyes and hold Alex tighter, pulling her as close as I can and planting a chaste kiss on the crown of her head. I don't say anything. There's nothing to say. Which strikes me as odd, considering I'm always the one with the quick words of comfort for any victim that walks into the precinct.

But this pain runs even deeper, because it's so much more personal. Alex has always been the strong, stoic one, the logical one who doesn't let her emotions dictate her actions. I've always admired that about her. But now, I'm seeing her in a different light. She's vulnerable. She's been hurt so much, but if anything, that makes me admire her even more, because she survived. No, more than that. She's thrived. She spends her life helping children like she was and does a good job of it too. She's used her circumstances to help others, and I admire that most of all.

Alex leans into me, her frail body still trembling in my arms, and I do my best to soothe her, at the same time trying to hold back my tears. But Alex isn't crying. Her baby blues are clear and dry, as perfect as ever.

And then I understand. Her well of tears ran dry long ago.

So . . . here was the start of the A/O you were all waiting for. Did you like it? Review for more!