This one-shot takes place between seasons 21 and 22. Noah, Jesse, Billie and Frannie don't exist in this story.

Special thanks to Aurigabi, Jellie789, and kbeauc2 for helping me out (and listening to me complain) when I kept getting stuck while writing this fic. I really appreciated your feedback! :)

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Olivia is dozing peacefully on the couch after a long week at work, when a sudden loud thump shatters the silence and yanks her abruptly from the pleasant dreams that have been floating through her mind. She struggles into a sitting position on the cushions, unable to ascertain where the noise had come from as she rubs her eyes and looks around the room in confusion. When a softer thump sounds a moment later, she gets to her feet and staggers toward the door in a sleepy, concerned daze, fairly sure it had come from the hallway outside her apartment.

A quick look through the peephole reveals a small figure slumped on the floor on the other side of the door, an uneasy feeling beginning to form in the pit of Olivia's stomach before she gets a glimpse of familiar blonde hair poking out of the hood that is covering the person's head and obscuring their face. She swings the door open immediately, both relieved that her midnight visitor is someone she knows and perplexed at the reason the younger woman is presently curled up in her hallway.

"Amanda?" Olivia keeps her voice low, careful not to startle her detective or disturb her neighbors at this late hour.

She crouches down on the floor beside the huddled form when she doesn't receive a response, gently touching Amanda's shoulder to get her attention before realizing that the harsh, rapid breathing she can hear is likely making it difficult for Amanda to form a reply.

"Hey, what's going on? What's the matter? Are you hurt?" Both of her hands are grasping the slender set of shoulders now, Olivia ducking her head to try and get a look at Amanda's face that is still partially hidden by the rain-splattered hood of her jacket, and listening as a prolonged wheeze emits from inside the garment. "You need to slow your breathing down, sweetheart."

Her hands slide down to give both of Amanda's arms a squeeze, and she rubs her palms along the chilled, damp material of her coat, wondering what the other woman is doing here. Regardless of the reason, it's clear that Amanda is engulfed in a full-blown panic attack and can't get herself under control, Olivia's stomach churning with worry, as she has never seen her detective in this condition in all the years they have worked together.

Even the breakdown that Amanda had experienced in her office after learning the truth about Esther Labott's death pales in comparison to the alarming scene that is currently unfolding in front of her. Amanda's breathing is louder and more ragged now, punctuated by an occasional gasp or hiccup as her hands clench onto Olivia's arms in return, sharp nails digging right through the thin pajama top she is wearing and leaving crescent shaped marks on the skin beneath.

"Amanda, honey, let's get you off the floor, okay?" Olivia urges quietly, stifling a wince as those nails dig in a little harder. "Why don't we go inside and sit on the couch so you'll be more comfortable while we get you calmed down, alright? Does that sound good to you?"

She is relieved when Amanda nods slightly and struggles onto her knees before flopping over again, one elbow braced against the floor while her other arm reaches out for assistance. Olivia grasps onto the shaking limb in a firm hold and with their combined efforts, they manage to make it just inside the apartment so Olivia can shut the door and give them some privacy, hidden away from the prying eyes of any neighbors who might be taking a late-night stroll through the hallway.

Her relief is short-lived, however, when Amanda can't seem to make it any further than the door and collapses fully to the floor, curling into a tight ball as her heavy panting becomes even more pronounced. When several minutes have passed and Olivia has done everything she can think of to help Amanda get her panic attack under control, including trying to lead her through a series of breathing exercises designed to slow and eventually put a halt to the hysteria, she does the only thing left that comes to mind.

After a brief hesitation, Olivia arranges herself on the floor right behind Amanda and presses her body into the smaller one in front of her, copying her position by fitting her bent knees into Amanda's and looping her arm around a quivering waist. Her nose presses into the back of the hood that is still pulled up over Amanda's head and she can smell some kind of citrus-scented laundry detergent on the material, the fragrance mixing in with whiffs of rainwater and alcohol, and wafting gently over them.

They lay there together on the cold, hard surface of the tiles, Olivia's muscles screaming at the awkward position but holding herself still when she feels a slight amount of relaxation in the stiff figure she is molded against and realizes that Amanda has begun breathing in tandem with her.

"That's it, just keep breathing with me," she encourages softly, trying to slow the racing of her own heart since she knows the younger woman can feel it, and not wanting Amanda to think that her captain isn't capable of handling this. "I've got you. You're safe with me. You can breathe, okay? You can breathe."

Olivia feels another wave of relief as she listens to Amanda inhale a shallow breath, unable to detect any wheezing this time, and wonders what had happened after she had parted ways with her squad earlier in the day that has led to the two of them spooning on the floor of her apartment. She has never encountered a situation quite like this with any of her team members and certainly not with Amanda, who is normally uncomfortable with being coddled or touched.

Her actions had felt right at the time, though, Olivia at a loss on what else to do except grab her detective and just hold onto her, but now a trace of doubt creeps into her brain as she ponders whether she has been too forceful and latched onto Amanda without consent. The growing doubt quickly dissipates, however, when she decides to shift slowly away from the younger woman and slide backwards across the floor, only to have Amanda promptly follow her lead and shift with her until they are firmly attached to each other again.

"Do you want to get up?" Olivia whispers a few moments later, when it's clear that Amanda is more calm now. "How about we go sit on the couch and you can tell me what's going on?"

"No," Amanda chokes out, the first word she has spoken since her disconcerting, unexpected arrival, her tone both desperate and ashamed. "I can't move just yet. I don't think I can walk properly without falling over. Can you just...can you just hold onto me a little longer? I feel like I'm breaking apart."

"Of course," Olivia replies tenderly as a lump of emotion swells in her throat at this uncharacteristic request, not used to Amanda being so vulnerable with her. "We can stay here for as long as you need to. But whatever is going on, you're not going to break, sweetheart. I'm here and I've got you. I'll hold you together."

She is stunned when Amanda's body is suddenly wracked with sobs, the small form snuggled into her shaking uncontrollably as piercing cries pour from her mouth. Olivia can't take it anymore, unable to watch and feel as Amanda's anguish unravels on the unforgiving surface of the floor, and she scrambles into a sitting position, pulling the younger woman up with her, Amanda's limbs as floppy as a rag doll's.

She somehow manages to wrangle them both to their feet, Amanda swaying into her while she continues to sob, and Olivia wraps one arm around her back and leans down to slip the other beneath her knees before hefting Amanda up into her embrace and carrying her over to the couch. The other woman is clinging tightly to her and showing no signs of letting go, so she plops inelegantly onto the cushions with the tiny detective cradled into her chest like a baby.

"I'm sorry," Amanda whimpers, her damp face hidden in Olivia's neck and soaking her skin with tears. "I was at a bar not too far from here and this panic attack just hit me out of nowhere. I was much closer to your place than my own and I just didn't think I could make it home." There is a lengthy pause before she speaks again, the hesitation evident in her voice. "And I didn't want to be alone."

"You don't need to apologize," Olivia assures her gently, rocking the quivering figure back and forth in an effort to soothe her. "I'm glad you decided to come here, instead of going home alone while you're so upset. But do you know why this panic attack happened? Does this kind of thing happen often or is this something new?"

Amanda immediately falls silent, reverting back to her earlier demeanor.

"Come on, talk to me," Olivia urges quietly, giving Amanda's hood a light tap with her fingertip. "Do you want to take this off? I can barely see your face."

"Sorry, I'm dripping water all over you," Amanda murmurs in a distracted tone, neither answering the question nor removing the hood.

"It's okay, I don't mind."

"But I'm getting your pajamas all wet." Amanda sounds quite agitated about this; much more so than the damp sleepwear warrants, and Olivia arches an eyebrow in surprise.

"Honey, it's okay," she repeats patiently, intent on keeping the intense panic from recurring. "I have other pajamas. I can get changed when we're done talking. And you can borrow something dry to wear, if you want."

"It must be uncomfortable, though." The shame and remorse is clear in Amanda's voice again. "And I just showed up here out of the blue, interrupting your night. I should let you get changed before we do any more talking."

"I don't mind you being here, Amanda. But if you really want me to, I can change into something else before we continue this discussion. Are you alright if I get up for a minute?" Olivia is dubious at the prospect of leaving Amanda alone, even for a few moments, as she feels the slender form shivering vigorously against her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Amanda replies in the most unconvincing tone Olivia has ever heard.

"You don't sound fine," she remarks gently, her heart clenching with sympathy and concern when Amanda begins weeping again.

"Oh, sweetheart." Olivia loosens her hood and carefully pulls it away from her head so she can see Amanda's tear-stained face, the removal of the slick material revealing anguished features and swollen eyelids. "Please talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

"I'm just so tired, Liv," Amanda blurts out, more tears leaking from her eyes as she speaks in a trembling voice. "I can't sleep anymore. And I have panic attacks all the time. It's like I can never suck in enough air. I feel like I'm drowning."

"How long has this been going on?" Olivia strokes matted blonde hair away from Amanda's face, smoothing the silken strands with her fingertips as she frowns deeply, dismayed by the younger woman's response and chastising herself for not keeping a closer eye on her detective.

"Since...since Bucci took me." Amanda blows out a shuddering breath and raggedly inhales another, the air rattling noisily in her lungs. "The attacks have been getting progressively worse, and this has been the worst one yet. But I haven't wanted to say anything about them."

Amanda is shivering so hard that the entire couch is now shaking with the movement, and even though Olivia wants her to open up and talk, she decides to put a brief halt to the conversation and asks if Amanda thinks she'll be okay to get up. When the younger woman nods with a confused expression, Olivia gently urges her off of her lap and makes sure she is steady on her feet before taking her hand and leading her into the bathroom to grab a towel, and then to the bedroom.

"This is where I keep my pajamas," she explains softly, opening the second drawer of her dresser and gesturing to the contents inside. "Feel free to pick out whatever you want and get out of those wet clothes. I'm going to grab something dry and get changed in the bathroom."

When Olivia returns to her room a short time later, Amanda is standing there looking small and adorable in a pair of stripped pajamas that are a couple of sizes too large for her, the pant legs rolled up at her ankles. She can see Amanda gazing longingly at the cozy bed, her tiny frame still wracked with tremors, and Olivia hesitates for a moment before asking if she wants to get under the covers. She watches as Amanda gives a slow nod and a tentative smile, her heart melting when the younger woman inquires in a forlorn voice if she will get under the covers as well.

Once they are situated side by side beneath the blankets, Olivia senses that Amanda still needs physical contact but is too embarrassed to ask for it, so she shifts closer on the mattress and holds out a welcoming arm. After a slight hesitation, Amanda ducks underneath her arm and snuggles into her embrace, resting her head on Olivia's shoulder and wrapping an arm around her waist while Olivia reaches up with her other hand to stroke her hair.

They settle into a comfortable silence as a light, cool wind drifts into the room from the open window, the scent of rain on the breeze and the dim lighting from the lamp on the nightstand creating a cozy atmosphere inside the room. Olivia lets the quiet linger for a little while longer, until she feels like it's a good time to continue their previous conversation.

"Do you want to tell me more about these panic attacks you're having? It's been six months since the incident with Bucci, sweetheart. That's a long time to be dealing with something so debilitating, especially if you've been keeping this to yourself." Olivia tilts her head to try and catch a glimpse of Amanda's face, but the other woman won't budge, blonde head lowered and voice muffled against her shoulder when she speaks.

"I probably should have said something a lot sooner," Amanda acknowledges with a shrug. "But I figured you were just going to tell me to go back to therapy, and I can't do that. At least not yet." There is a pause, like she is trying to convince herself of her next words. "It's not as if I think some retired cop is going to burst in there with a gun and abduct me again, but I just can't seem to make myself go back, no matter how hard I try. I know that it's all I would be thinking about the whole time I was there. I wouldn't be able to concentrate at all. So there's no point, right?"

"Amanda, I can't answer that for you," Olivia says softly, continuing to smooth her fingers through fine golden strands. "Only you can make that decision. I completely understand why you wouldn't feel safe in a therapy setting right now. But I do think you need some sort of support if these severe panic attacks are becoming more frequent. You can't go on like this. You need some coping mechanisms. What about seeing your doctor instead?"

"I don't want to see anyone else!" Amanda snaps in return, Olivia flinching in surprise at the instant change in mood, and watching as the other woman abruptly yanks herself away from their embrace and shuffles over to the corner of the bed where her body teeters on the edge. "I just want them to stop!"

"Honey, ignoring the panic attacks and simply hoping they'll go away isn't going to make it happen."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child." Amanda's voice is hostile and Olivia bristles at this response, bewildered at the sudden turn this interaction is taking and feeling a hint of anger threading through her sympathy.

"Then stop acting like one," she shoots back, crossing her arms over her chest and pursing her lips. "You're sitting there pouting because I said something that you didn't want to hear, and now you're planning to ignore the problem and hoping it will just magically disappear. That doesn't sound very mature to me."

"Coming here was obviously a mistake," Amanda mutters gruffly, throwing her legs over the side of the mattress and wobbling to her feet. "I should have just gone home."

"You couldn't have made it home in the condition you were in," Olivia chides gently, wishing the other woman would turn around so they could talk face to face. "I'm glad you came here, Amanda. I'm glad you feel safe with me."

Olivia watches her shoulders slump in defeat as Amanda sags back onto the bed with a heavy sigh. "I came here because your place was the closest, Liv, and I didn't want to be alone with the thoughts in my head. But I don't really feel safe anywhere, or with anyone. It's not just about going back to therapy; it's everywhere, it's everything. He took that from me; my privacy, my security. I feel like they don't exist anymore. And if I ever get them back, what's going to happen next? Who else is waiting to burst in and take it all away again?"

"Oh, Amanda, I'm so sorry," Olivia answers softly, briefly swamped with traumatic memories of her own past before she shakes her head and tries to push them aside. "I know it's terrible to live that way, to feel like that all the time; like you'll never be safe again. I wish you had said something much sooner, though. It kills me to know that you've been suffering by yourself this whole time, and how much you must have suffered when you were with Bucci."

"I wouldn't exactly call it suffering," Amanda murmurs in a nearly inaudible tone, Olivia leaning across the bed to hear her better. "It's not like he hurt me; I mean, not really. What I remember most is the constant discomfort when I was with him, though. The handcuffs made my wrists ache, and I was so hungry and tired. And it was weird because I kept thinking about the clothes I was wearing."

"What about them?" Olivia's brow wrinkles at this puzzling piece of information.

"I was wishing I could get changed into something else and then terrified that he would try to take them off. He never did, though," Amanda assures her quickly at Olivia's sharp intake of breath, finally turning her head enough to make eye contact. "He never touched me in a sexual way but when we were in the motel room, it reminded me of Patton, so that's where my mind went. I wondered if he would force me to take them off."

"I'm so sorry," Olivia repeats in a hushed tone, swallowing against the lump that is still inside her throat and trying not to imagine Amanda trapped in that motel room, at the mercy of a man who would do anything for his daughters while those memories and fears whirled through her mind. "Why did you want to change into something else?"

"My clothes were soaked the instant he came into my therapy session. I thought he was going to kill Dr. Hanover right in front me, and then shoot me too. It took me by complete surprise. I was so shocked and so scared when he burst in there, I sweated right through everything I was wearing," Amanda explains wearily, raking a hand through her dishevelled hair and turning away from Olivia again. "I just wanted to peel every article of clothing off my body because I felt so disgusting. But then the sweat dried and I was absolutely freezing. I couldn't stop shaking. I was trying to stay sharp and pay attention to what was happening, but all I could think about was how cold I was."

Olivia takes note of the glance that Amanda throws over one shoulder; that longing look at the warm covers she is still snuggled beneath, and holds up a corner of the quilt in invitation. "That sounds like suffering to me, sweetheart," she says gently, a smile that is both sad and relieved quirking her lips when Amanda slowly edges toward her and ducks beneath the blankets again.

"It wasn't that bad," Amanda mutters with another shrug, still keeping her distance on the mattress despite sharing the same covers. "I've been through much worse. That was pretty tame by comparison, so I shouldn't be feeling so unsafe and having all of these panic attacks. It's ridiculous, really. It was just the constant physical discomfort and not knowing what he was going to do next that was hard to deal with. He wasn't the easiest person to reason with."

"No, he wasn't," Olivia agrees quietly. "But I don't think you should downplay what happened to you, honey. It must have been very difficult to be put in such an unpredictable situation against your will and not have the freedom to do the simplest things, like changing out of wet clothing or putting on something warmer; getting some rest or having a meal, since you mentioned how tired and hungry you were. And you had to watch while Dr. Hanover's life was put in danger and had to deal with your own life being threatened as well. It's understandable that there would be repercussions from all of that."

"Well, I'm sick of dealing with the repercussions of all of this shit," Amanda growls, that anger back in her voice again. "Once I've gotten over one thing, something else comes along to take its place. So what's going to be next? Who will it be this time? Will Patton drop by for a visit? Will Bucci seek me out after he's served his time? Will it be someone I've never dealt with before? Whether it's a huge, traumatic event or something on a smaller scale, I just want it all to stop, Olivia. I need a break from all of it, from everything. I'm so fucking exhausted."

"I know you are, sweetheart," Olivia whispers, feeling her eyes well with empathetic tears as she watches Amanda slide further beneath the covers and roll onto her side with a huff, turning her back on her again as she pulls the blankets up to her chin.

She looks every bit the child that Olivia has just accused of her being, but she refrains from mentioning it this time, shifting closer to Amanda on the sheets and wanting nothing more than to provide the comfort and care that the detective so desperately needs. She stretches an arm out and begins stroking tentatively through tangled blonde tufts of hair that are sticking up from the pile of covers, and starts speaking softly.

"I know everything is really confusing for you right now. You've been through something horrific, but you feel like you're overreacting to it because you're comparing it to other traumas that you deem worse. And I know it's hard to feel safe when you're just waiting for the next traumatic event to happen. But I promise you're safe with me, Amanda, even though it might not feel that way right now. You're warm and cozy and comfortable, and nobody else is going to come in here. Nobody is going to take you away or force you to do anything that you don't want to do. It's calm and quiet and peaceful, and you're welcome to stay here for as long as you want."

Olivia grows silent after her short speech, the light rain that is still falling outside and the breeze that is rustling the blinds in the open window the only sounds in the room. They lay there side by side on the bed, Olivia continuing to smooth her hand over Amanda's hair, neither of them uttering a word, and she realizes that Amanda is breathing in tandem with her again, their bodies in sync with one another.

She is overcome with a rush of tenderness when Amanda doesn't say anything in response but reaches up to take ahold of her hand without turning around, pulling her arm away from her hair and using it to encircle her waist so they are spooning once again. Olivia tightens her grasp on the slim form in front of her, catching another whiff of citrus as her nose presses into golden tresses, and closes her eyes.

She can feel slumber beckoning and fights the urge to sink into sleep just in case Amanda wants to keep talking, but the detective's sudden snore allows Olivia to relax even further, her body melting gratefully into the sheets as she snuggles closer to the smaller figure next to her. She knows there is still so much more to discuss, and the younger woman will need a lot of help and support to get her panic attacks under control and begin to heal and move forward, but all of that can wait until morning.

For now, she is just content to have Amanda safe and sound in her arms.