Summary: Emily is attacked and raped.

I volunteer as a sexual assualt consuelor, and lgenerally, I would prefer not to think of rape outside of that, but lately there have been some things that have been a bit tough to deal with, and issues with the system (specifically insensative cops and nurses), that have upset me. So, to cut my rambling short, I just couldn't seem to get any of it out of my head, and I hate that, it's terrible. So, in a desperate attempt to get said things out of my head, the Standoff characters have to suffer once again. As a note, this isn't based on any particular victims I've met, however the cop and nurse are based on ones I've dealt with.

Warning: This isn't terribly graphic, I couldn't bring myself to make it more graphic than it is, but that being said, it's a difficult subject that kids should avoid, please.


Emily hadn't actually walked around a city in years, she always seemed to be in a car. But, tonight she'd left work a little early to meet up with a friend she hadn't seen since she got back to L.A. Angela was an insanely busy civil rights attorney, and mother of a brand new baby girl. The pair had caught over dinner, and Emily promised to make time to see the baby, before they said goodnight. Emily had left the small dinner smiling, enjoying the feel of the air, which at nine p.m. had cooled considerably.

She wasn't far from the FBI building, or Sloan's, where she was meeting up with Matt. Feeling the need to have a guys night, Matt, Frank, Duff, and a few others from work gathered for a take no prisoners paintball match. Of course, after pelting each other the guys were supposed to head over to Sloan's to dull the pain of paintball bruises. They'd taken one car that morning, so she readily agreed to walk, and at the moment was glad that she did. There was just something about the atmosphere of a city twinkling in seventy-degree weather.

She knew the streets of L.A. so well, she could turn down any and navigate her way through the city grid to get to Sloan's. Instead of walking up Fifth and turning down Carlisle, she decided to walk up Bainbridge and turn on Ninth. Bainbridge received much less traffic than Fifth, which meant fewer honking horns, crazy bicyclists, and traffic lights to wait through. She'd hit seventh before she felt a shiver down her spine, the sort of distinct quiver you feel when you sense someone is watching.

Like any city-savvy woman, she tightened her grip on her purse and discretely quickened her stride, realizing for the first time, that the street was deserted. This made no sense, no street in the middle of L.A. would be this deserted at only nine. Suddenly up ahead she realized why; there was a blockade at the end of the block and caution tape. They were tearing up the broken sidewalks and repaving the road. This was not good, she'd have to turn back. Breathing in slowly to calm herself, she felt for her weapon, still snug on her hip, and rested her hand there, while she turned and walked back toward Fifth.

Emily didn't see it coming, really unless she was incredibly paranoid, she couldn't have. She looked wearily at the man walking toward her down the sidewalk, but when he seemed to show no interest in her, she relaxed a bit. She was almost passed him, she felt something grab her arm, and tug her back. Emily resisted, struggling against his grip as he roughly grabbed her other arm, but unable to go for her gun. It went so quick, and before she knew it, he'd yanked her into the mouth of an alley, and manhandled her behind a dumpster, out of sight.

"Let go of me!" she yelled, trying to pull her arms out of his grip with all the force her body could muster.

"Shut up!" He hissed angrily, removing one hand long enough to slap her. With one arm released Emily dropped her purse and went for her gun, but he noticed too soon, and ripped it from its holster and held it to her temple.

"You a cop?" He asked, anger radiating from his body.

"FBI." Emily spat at him, refusing to show vulnerability.

"My lucky day." He exposed his bright white teeth in an evil grin, before releasing her other arm, gun still leveled against her head.

"Take my purse and go, I won't say anything."

"Don't want it." He raised his hand to her hip, running it up under her shirt as she tried to squirm away. Annoyed, he moved forward quickly, pressing her between himself and the filthy brick wall.

Emily tried desperately to push him away, but his body was much larger than hers, and even without his generous muscle, his mass would have prevented her. Her heart pounding in her ears, and entire body tense, Emily scratched at him furiously, and let out a panicked scream.

"I told you to shut up!" He yelled into her face, bracing his forearm against her neck, pressing her throat and head into the wall. Emily took a chance then, and bit down as hard as her teeth would let her, tasting the blood from the now broken skin of his forearm.

Thoroughly pissed, he took aimed the butt of the gun and gave her a harsh whack in the head, sending her crumpling dazed to the ground. He stood over her then, sneering into her face, and began unbuckling his pants.

"You listen! Do you want me to shut you up? Cause I can give you something to put in your mouth! Huh, do you want that!" He yelled at her, grabbing himself in an explanative gesture.

"No." Emily whimpered softly, fear gripping her, even as she began mentally cursing how weak she sounded.

"What was that?" he snarled.

"No." She spoke louder, understanding his threat all too well, and turning her head away from him. He grunted his approval, and came to kneel beside her, his hands beginning to remove her belt.

"No, please, please, don't," she pled with him, trying to stop his hands.

Her glared at her, and picked up one of her hands, squeezing her fingers together in a painful warning. He pulled off her jacket and yanked up her shirt, before undoing the button on her jeans, and yanking them down. Emily couldn't help it, she began resisting again, her mind screaming for her to prevent what was about to happen. She could hear her own breathing in her ears, and heart pounding in every vein.

He grabbed her struggling wrists, and gripping them in one of his, held them above her head, while pulling her panties down with the other. Emily squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the world as he entered her and began thrusting painfully. She could feel hot tears prick the backs of her eyelids, just before a few random drops slid down her cheeks.

Emily could feel his hot breath on her neck and face, and smell his putrid scent of bad aftershave, cheap cigars, and fried food. His free hand roamed her body as he moved inside her, breathing heavily and grunting. She felt the sticky coolness of his sweat as his body rubbed up against her. Finally, he gave one long moan as he finished, leaving her to curl into herself, as he pulled his pants back on.

She sat staring blankly, her whole body shaking as she tried to wrap her mind around what could possibly have just happened. He suddenly nudged her.

"Hey, you alright?"

She stared at him stunned for a minute, he did not really just ask her that. Still she nodded, just wanting him to leave her alone. He nodded, apparently satisfied and took off, her gun in one hand, belt with her extra clip and cell phone in the other.

Still shaking Emily got to her feet, numbly pulling her clothes back on, before grabbing her discarded purse, and walking uneasily out of the alley, the opposite way than they'd gone in. She ended up on Billings, squinting against the sudden bright lights, continued walking up two more blocks stumbling a bit on her unsure legs. She didn't have her cell phone so she couldn't call the police, but Sloan's wasn't far, which meant neither was Matt.

She struggled to keep her breathing even as she walked, and tears from pouring out of her eyes. Her mind was still unable to fully process what happened, rebelling against an idea to difficult for her to accept. Soon she turned down ninth and began walking the three more blocks to Sloan's. As she passed people on the street she began to pull her body inward, shrinking away from them. Her head hurt, and she pressed her hand against the tender spot from being hit with her own gun. When a door opened, suddenly emitting the loud sounds from inside, she jumped, now hyper-alert from her encounter. Finally, she reached the familiar bar, and not a moment too soon. She entered and began peering around for Matt.


Matt had been checking his watch regularly since a quarter to nine, wondering, but not yet concerned about where Emily was. She was probably just having fun catching up with her friend. He, in the meantime, was watching Frank and Duff sample 'girlie drinks' and rating them, while the rest of the paintball group, accompanied by Lia, Cheryl, and two of the other women in the office, laughed hysterically at the two super-testosterone charged HRT guys.

"Those two are shameless," Cheryl commented laughing.

"Ugh, what was that sweet thing?" Frank asked pursing his lips at the sweetness of his reddish-pink drink.

"Alabama Slammer," Duff laughed, enjoying his own.

"Fine, I pick the next one. How about, what was that one that Jake's girlfriend was drinking?" Frank asked.

"I don't know man, something to do with piss."

"You want to drink something that involves piss?" Matt asked amused and disgusted at the same time.

"No, it doesn't have actual piss in it! It's just in the name!"

"Right, whatever Frank," Matt laughed, shaking his head. His eyes must have just barely caught her, but enough for him to turn to look toward the door. When he set his eyes on her, he could tell immediately that something was wrong, just by the wild look in her blue eyes. He immediately left the table and walked over to her.

"Em?" He asked concerned, just before he noticed that her whole body was shaking. She crashed into him, wrapping her arms around him, desperate to feel even a little bit safer, a little bit more stable.

"Emily, what happened, what's wrong?" She pulled back slightly to look at him.

"I tried to stop him. I should have tried harder, I shouldn't have let my gun get taken that easily. I didn't want to, I didn't want to…" Her words got faster as she spoke, and increasingly difficult to understand as tears began to spill from her eyes.

"Did someone hurt you?" He asked, completely bewildered and frightened now.

She nodded slowly, and whispered, "He didn't want my purse."

"Oh god," he breathed, allowing her to lean into him once again. "Emily, we need to get you to a hospital."

She shook her head against his shoulder; she just wanted to go home, shower, and crawl into bed and forget she'd ever gotten up that morning.

"Em, even if you don't want to report this, we still need to get a doctor to look at you, and they can give you medication in case he wasn't, wasn't…" Matt trailed off, unable to finish his sentence without his mind screaming at him that it couldn't be true.

Emily didn't shake her head this time, so Matt decided to take that as confirmation, and was about to start them leaving, when a voice stopped him.

"Matt? What happened?" Cheryl had seen that something wasn't right.

"I'm taking Emily to a hospital."

"What, why?" Cheryl asked.

He looked toward Emily, waiting for her to nod before speaking, "She was attacked."

"What, mugged?" Cheryl's mind couldn't even begin to consider the alternative.

"No."

Cheryl was quiet a moment, before asking quietly "She wasn't-"

"Yes." Matt cut her off, not ready to hear the word yet.

Her mouth dropped into an 'o', before she was able to speak again. "Call me tomorrow, okay?"

Matt nodded gratefully, Cheryl had just told them to take tomorrow off. He quickly maneuvered Emily, who had seemingly zoned out, out the door, and up toward the FBI building to get the car.

Cheryl went back to the table, and sat in stunned silence. Frank and Duff were still ingesting various kinds of alcohol concoctions, and now were on to the piss-named one that they could think before, actually called, Alien Urine Sample.

"Mmm, this one tastes like coconut," Frank nodded his head in approval.

"Gross man, I hate coconut!" Duff made a face as the last bit he tasted.

"Alright, maybe HRT doesn't need sleep at all, but it's almost ten, and I do. Enjoy your alien piss," Binder commented, dropping money for his share of the bill on the table, and walking toward the door.

"Yeah, I'm with him. God knows tomorrow I'll have a hangover and we'll get a crisis," Temple agreed, getting up to leave.

"You can always pass it to Flannery and Lehman, those to never pass up the chance to try and save some poor headcase with a gun," Frank laughed.

"They aren't coming in tomorrow," Cheryl came out of her stupor briefly when she heard the couple's names.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" Duff asked, slightly tipsy.

"Just have something to deal with," Cheryl attempted to be nonchalant, wanting to protect Emily's privacy.

It seemed work, everybody went back to talking and laughing, except Lia. She'd seen Cheryl go over to the couple, and had seen that something was wrong, but didn't want to bring it up in front of the whole group. Now, she needed to know if they were okay.

"Alright, one of you has to move, I need to get out of this booth," She said, gesturing with her hands at the people sitting next to her.

"What's your rush?" Gil Samson, another HRT agent asked from the end.

"I'm going to pee all over this seat if you don't let me out," she told him, giving him a sharp look. She was then able to follow the three people in front of her out of the booth, and stopped by where Cheryl was sitting to gesture her to follow. Knowing exactly what was coming Cheryl sighed, and followed her, she knew that Lia was a lot more perceptive than people tended to give her credit for.

Once inside, Lia checked the stalls, and then satisfied they were empty stood looking at Cheryl, "So what happened?"

"It's fine, they just have some things to deal with tonight. They won't be in any shape to work by tomorrow morning."

"Cheryl, I won't tell anybody. They're just my friends, and I know something is wrong. Are they alright?"

Cheryl cupped her hands over her mouth for a minute, debating if she should tell her or not. After a few minutes, she brought them down, and nodded to herself, Lia was trustworthy, and would just worry herself if she didn't know. Not quite sure how to say it, Cheryl just ended up blurting it out.

"Emily was raped."

Lia looked at her with much the same stunned expression that she imagined she'd looked at Matt with. It was a mix of shock and horror that soon turned to worry, and began a hushed dialogue between the two women, who could do little for their friend besides hope she'd be alright.


Emily was quiet during the car ride, staring out the window and biting her lip. She'd calmed down considerably, but it was unnerving Matt more than her panic had. For his part Matt didn't know what to do or say, he didn't even know if there was something he could do or say.

When they got to the hospital, Matt was point off toward the waiting room, and Emily was escorted by a nurse the opposite way, only reluctantly releasing his hand. Matt felt awful as he watched them take her to get examined, fear still radiating in her eyes. Emily was not happy, she'd come here for help, and they'd taken away the only source of comfort she had.

She was put into a small room where a receptionist gave her twenty questions about her name, address, phone number, insurance, and health history. Then they sat in a row of chairs eight feet from the entrance she'd come in, and handed a few papers to sign. After handing her the papers the nurse gave her shoulder a little squeeze, and walked away to her next patient, letting her know they'd be with her in a moment.

Minutes later, a cop in full uniform showed up, and began asking her about what happened, with little tact.

"Uh, and then I bit his arm, and he hit me on the side of my head with the gun. I, uh, I sort of slid to the ground, and he started yelling at me-"

"What did he say exactly?" He interrupted her.

"Uh, he told me to listen, and asked if I wanted him to shut me up, he said…uh, he told me…told me he would give me something to put in my mouth if I didn't…He was, was uh…grabbing himself when he said it," she finished looking at the floor in shame she didn't earn.

"Oh, so did he make you give him a blowjob?"

Emily's head shot up and she looked at him surprised by how blatant he was, "N-no."

"So then what happened?"

"I, um, begged him not to, and he started to crush my hand, so I stopped. He-he uh, got my pants down, and I started to struggle again, so he gra-grabbed my arms and held them above my head, while he pull-pulled my underwear off," her voice was getting shakier as she relived the event.

"And then he penetrated?"

"Yeah."

"Anything else?" He asked with the sympathy of a ice cube.

"Afterward before he left, he asked if I was okay."

"Okay, so you're boyfriend brought you here right?"

"Yeah, can I see him? I'd really like to see him."

"Sorry against policy, but I need to know when the last time you had sex was."

"Um, last night."

"Did you use a condom?"

"No, pill."

"Okay, I'll have to find you're boyfriend later and get a DNA sample, what's his name?"

"Matt Flannery."

"And, you said you're a Fed?"

"Yeah, I work Crisis Negotiation."

"And the guy has your gun now?"

"Yes."

"Damn, full clip?"

"Yeah, and he got the spare on my belt and my phone."

"Ok, the FBI should have the serial numbers on file, and a sample slug from it. We'll look into that later." He finished questioning, and proceeded to scribble something in his notepad, when a golden-haired woman in her early thirties approached.

"Hi, I'm Bridget. I'm from LACAR, the L.A. Coalition Against Rape. How about we go somewhere a little more comfortable," she turned to the cop, "I'm going to take her to the room in the back ok?"

"Yeah, I'll let the nurses know." He went back to scribbling on his notepad.

Bridget led Emily through a hallway way, and down another one, until they got to a room with a few padded chairs and a sofa. It as almost eleven o'clock now.

"So, I know you just went through this, and will have to go through this again, but I'm going to need to take down your information."

Emily nodded, already tired, and began to once again, rattle off her information.

"Thank you Emily, do you want to tell me a little bit about what happened?"

Once again, Emily nodded and explained for the second time that night what happened.

"Okay, have they told about what they're going to do in the exam?" Bridget asked softly.

"No, but I have a pretty good idea, lots of swabbing and a speculum. Oh, and I have to pee in this," Emily told her dryly, holding up the actually quite large plastic cup.

"That's about right, do you want to go to the bathroom and do that now?"

Emily shot her a look that said "you've got to be kidding, right?"

"Okay, so maybe you don't want to, but do you feel up to it?"

"Sure, which way is it?"

"Down the hall on the right." Emily nodded and left to take care of her urine sample.


Matt was sat anxiously in the waiting room, his legs jumping, and his fingers continually running through his hair, feeling completely useless. He'd been pacing on and off since they'd directed him to that room, fearing that he'd literally jump out of his skin if he didn't work off some of his nervous energy. For that purpose it worked, but it didn't make him worry any less. It didn't stop him checking the time every ten minutes, desperate for someone to come and tell him he could see her.

He knew she wasn't in any physical danger at the moment, but he couldn't get her scared eyes, her pained tears, or her desperate pleas out of his mind. He didn't know what they were doing with her at the moment, because nobody thought to come out and tell him. Did they really expect him to just be able to sit out there and do nothing? He would have given anything that moment to have two minutes with the guy that raped her; all he needed was two interrupted minutes and a dull knife, and the bastard would never touch another woman again.

Instead he was sitting in plastic chair, waiting for them to finish with Emily. Even he could have his moment to castrate the bastard, he would have liked to sit with Emily, to hold her hand. She hadn't wanted him to leave, why did they make him leave? If he could offer her a little comfort, a little support right now, then why wouldn't they let him? Hadn't she been through enough? And, oh my god, why, why, why, was it taking so damned long?

On the verge of losing it, Matt went to a corner and pulled out his phone, hitting speed dial two.

"Matt, how's Emily?" Cheryl must have looked at her caller ID, her question coming out almost as nervous as Matt felt.

"I wouldn't know," he said bitterly.

"What? What do you mean?"

"They wouldn't let me go in with her, so I've been sitting in the waiting room going crazy instead."

"She'll be okay Matt, she's strong," Cheryl didn't know what else to tell him, so she said the only comforting words she could think of.

"She looked scared Cheryl. When they took her into the ER and said I couldn't go in, she actually looked scared. The only time I ever saw her look scared was in Mexico."

"Well, she's been through an ordeal Matt, and they took away her last shred of security, it's not surprising that she looked frightened," She tried to explain it rationally, hoping that would calm him down a little. It didn't.

"I know that, and I want to rip the son of a bitch to pieces, and I want to do the same to these doctors because they're putting her through more," he seethed, more furious than Cheryl had ever heard him before.

"Listen, you need to calm down. Right now, the last thing Emily needs is to see you pissed and hysterical. That'll just upset her more. So just breathe a minute, alright?"

"I know, I know, I just, I can't get my mind around this, and I don't know what to do. All I know is that I should be there for her, but they won't let me, and I'm stuck here, and I can't do anything," Matt rattled out, on the verge of losing his sanity.

"Then all you can really do is wait for the doctors to finish with her, right?" She coaxed him gently.

"Yeah, you're right. I just don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to sit here," Matt told her not yet totally resigned to being idle.

"The way I see it, you don't really have a choice."

"No, I know," he agreed tiredly, "I want to kill him, Cheryl."

"I know you do, Matt." She didn't doubt his sincerity for a minute.

Matt sighed, "Alright, I'm going to go, they have to be done soon. Thanks."

"Anytime, you'll call me tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow," he answered before hanging up, resigned to another long wait. This time he only had to wait another twenty minutes before a golden-haired woman came through the doors, searching faces of the people doting the waiting room. Evidently, not sure who she was looking for, she asked the group.

"Matt Flannery?" Matt shot up and practically ran toward her.

"Yes?"

"Uh, lets go over by the vending machines," she instructed him, leading the way to the seemingly abandoned machines.

Once arriving, Matt stopped and looked toward her, eyes frantically searching her face in desperate questioning.

"My name is Bridget, I'm from the L.A. Coalition Against Rape, I was just in with Emily," she introduced herself and her purpose.

"Where is she?"

"They just took her in to start the rape kit, so I told her I'd come out and talk to you."

"They haven't started it yet? It's a quarter to twelve, they've been making her wait this whole time?" Matt demanded angrily.

"I'm sorry, it tends to take them awhile, but don't worry, Emily hasn't been alone."

"If they were just going to make her wait, why didn't they let me wait with her?"

"Honestly, I don't know, it's just their policy."

"Yeah, well the policy sucks," Matt grumbled.


"How are you doing there, Emily?" The male doctor asked her, as he stuck a plastic speculum in between her legs, proceeding with the final stage of the examination.

"Fine," she assured him shortly, cringing as the typical prick of the instrument was intensified by the soreness of the area it penetrated.

Truth be told, Emily was anything but fine right then. Moments before she'd been standing naked as they examined her body for marks, snapping photos when they found them. She tolerated it, just as she'd tolerated the swab in her mouth, and an oral exam to she if she took any of his flesh in her bite. They'd scraped beneath her fingernails, and prodded and photographed the bruises on her head and cheek; Emily felt like she was being raped all over again.

Her mind was screaming for it to end, crying out internally what her mouth couldn't. She didn't want them touching her; she couldn't take much more. She could still feel that man's hands on her body, wrapped around her wrists, roaming over her hips, stomach, breasts. She could still feel his sweat on her body, and breath on her face. It made her feel dirty, filthy, she needed desperately to wash him off of her. But, they continued taking their time examining her.

"Just a little longer, okay?" He asked gently.

She only nodded. Did she really have a choice? This was her fault anyway, if she had just walked down Fifth… She knew better, she'd lived in a city long enough to how to travel safely at night, and she'd done everything wrong. Well-lit, heavily trafficked streets, walk in groups, always be on guard, and so much else she could have done to prevent this. She couldn't believe he gotten control over her so easily, she was a trained FBI agent, she knew how to protect herself. And her got her gun, how could she have allowed him to do that? How could she be so irresponsible? If he used it on someone, their death would be her fault. Emily's mind rattled off everything she did wrong, every way she'd screwed up that night, and all at once, she felt so completely powerless.

"Alright, Emily, I'm all done. You can get dressed now," he told her, pointing to the donated sweats a nurse had brought her from their bin that serviced these occasions. Then he left, taking with him all his little boxed swabs and other items.

Emily pulled her legs shakily from the stirrups, a device every woman knew and despised for the unpleasant exams they represented. She slipped the clothes on, and put her own shoes back on; they had no spared for these. Tiredly she opened the thin curtain that seperated her from the rest of the hospital, and approached the officer waiting nearby.

The nurse that had been with her got to him first, "Did you want a drug panel on this one?"

"Nah, she's a Fed. She won't be on anything," he told her nurse.

Emily stood stunned two feet from the pair. She was just raped and they were all but accusing her of being on drugs, and this one? If possible she felt even worse.

"Can I go home now?" She asked him desperately.

"Sorry, first we have to go to the SVU precinct so the detectives can talk to you, and get a cast of your teeth. They'll want to talk to your boyfriend too."

Emily felt her hopes of ending this horrific experience crushed, and she hung her head in resignation. No shower, no sleep, no end. Emily began to retreat into her mind, unable and unwilling to suffer any longer in the world around her. Then a nurse came up with discharge papers for her to sign, and once done, let them go.


Matt saw them coming out and immediately rushed up, aching to hold her, but settling instead for holding her hand.

"Hey, they had you in there forever, I was starting to go crazy out here," he said, his heart breaking at the exhausted, deadened look in her eyes.

"Yeah, we have to talk to the detectives now," she told, her voice laced with resignation.

"What, I thought you already talked to one?" He asked, upset at the thought that they were going to put her through more.

"I talked to him, now I have to talk to the detectives."

"Why didn't they do that, while you were waiting all that time?"

Emily shrugged, unable to care at this point, really just wanting to crawl into a hole in the ground and fade away.

"Can I drive her?" Matt asked the cop, anxious to give her even a small break from being surrounded by strangers.

The cop gave sort of a half nod, half shrug as if to say that he didn't really care. He instructed Matt to follow his car, that SVU wasn't that far.


A quarter to four in the morning. That is when they finally got to Emily's apartment. They'd left the hospital at 12:30, and without counting driving time, spent nearly three hours at the police precinct. For Matt it was a whole lot more waiting, after a short round of interrogation, mouth swab, and several disapproving looks at the fact that he was dating his partner. For Emily it was Two and a half long, painful, humiliating hours reliving every detail of her rape, the hours leading up to it, and following it. The other almost half hour was for the dental casting.

Upon returning home, Emily dropped her purse and keys on the counter, and walked directly to the bathroom. Without a thought the shower went on, a little hotter than usual, and she jumped in, allowing the water to cleanse her. She lathered up, rubbing her skin harder than necessary before washing the suds off her body, and repeating the ritual twice more. Then she just stood under the water for several minutes, allowing the hot water to rush over her, zoning out as images of the attack played out in her mind.

She only crawled out when Matt tapped gently on the door and called to her, he was worried and wanted to know if she was okay. She turned the water off, wrapped a towel around her body, and exited the bathroom, brushing past Matt, into the bedroom to get clothes. Throwing on and old t-shirt and cotton shorts, Emily crawled into bed, turning on her side away from Matt, and curled into herself.

Awkward and completely unsure of how to treat her in the current situation, Matt stared for a minute. Would she be comfortable with him sleeping in here with her? Would she feel safe alone? What if she had a nightmare? What if he rolled over in the middle of the night and scared the hell out of her? Matt's mind raced with questions, he just didn't know what to do.

But, faced with having to make a decision, he shut out the light and climbed in beside her, keeping his distance. He did his best to create a comprise; Emily would know he was nearby, without having to be touched, unless she wanted to be. The red numbers on the clock glowed 4:01, but tired as he was, Matt laid awake a while longer, watching them change.

He was woken a few hours later, as daylight was breaking when he felt a sudden jolt beside him. Blinking awake, he tried to figure out what happened, as the sounds of soft sobs drifted to his ears. He saw Emily's curled figure shudder, and knew she was crying, she no doubt had her first of many nightmares.

"Em?" He called gently, sitting up slightly and turning toward her, and laid a hand gently on her shoulder.

Emily jolted in surprise, before abruptly turning and rolling toward him. She buried her head in his chest, and grabbed his t-shirt in her hands, terrified out of her mind.

"Hey, it's okay. You're safe now. He can't hurt you," he spoke softly, trying to sooth her, and wrapped his arms around her holding her close. Not knowing how else to help her, Matt continued whispering to her, and holding her close.

Emily's heart was pounding in her ears, and her chest felt it was going to explode as she heaved trying to catch her breath while the tears streamed down her face. She'd found herself on that street again with him, found herself being raped all over again. Even in her dream she could smell him and feel his breath, even in her dream she could feel him run a hand along her body as he forced himself inside her, and even in her dream it seemed to last forever. That was until she woke up.

Her eyes still wild, brain still frantic, and heart still wild from her dream, Matt's caring voice brought her out the horror. Even before his words could, his delicate tone reminded her that she wasn't alone, that someone cared, that she was safe with him. Half a thought later she'd rolled into his arms, and tried to melt into his body. After a few minutes her body began to relax, though her mind remained racing for a while longer. Matt eventually soothed her back into her exhausted sleep, and he followed soon after, confident that she was secure in his arms.


As an end note, this is ending is really too neat and tidy for the issue it involves, but I'm back to not wanting to think about it, so until I have more difficult things to deal with, neat and tidy is what it has to remain. Thank you for reading and reviewing, and I hope to write happier stories in the future, something with puppies or kittens, or something equally as cuddily, and I'm going to stop myself rambling again, apologies.