Chapter 1

He woke up and at first he wasn't quite sure why. The doorbell was ringing and, although he knew it wasn't possible, it sounded angry.

He pushed himself out of the bed to walk to the first floor. The ringing and knocking at the door became more desperate and he wondered what was so urgent.

He took a look through the door viewer and opened the door to let Elliot into his house.

"Elliot what happened?"

"I'm sorry for bothering you so late, but I need to talk!"

"George, is everything alright?" George hadn't realized that Mark had woken up too and had come down to see what was going on.

"Yes, Mark. Everything is alright; this is a colleague of mine. Go back to bed." He turned around and looked into Mark's face to assure him that everything was alright.

Elliot tried to calm himself down and nodded into the direction of the unfamiliar man; he knew that George was gay but he had never met his partner.

Mark went back upstairs after checking Elliot out. He gazed at George in a look that said more than thousand words. Elliot was absolutely sure that Mark was waiting upstairs listening carefully to be sure that everything was really alright.

George directed Elliot out of the hall and into his office. It was a nice, comfortable room lined with all sorts of books, not just psychiatric manuals. There was a desk in front of the window and two armchairs with a small table. George invited him to sit down but he couldn't sit, so he walked to the bookshelf and pretended to read the titles.

"Elliot, what happened?" George asked.

"I'm sorry that I disturbed you in the middle of the night."

"That's okay, Elliot."

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I came here. I should go."

"Elliot, it's your own decision what you do or not do, but driving through the whole city in the middle of the night seems as if you really needed to talk to someone. I'm here to listen. I'm pretty good at that. I do that for a living, you know?" He tried to get Elliot to talk; at 3 o'clock in the morning his creative side wasn't quite as awake as his body.

"I dreamed of her!" Elliot exclaimed.

"Of who?" George inquired. Elliot turned around and rolled his eyes. George realized who he was referring to."Okay you dreamed of Olivia. Elliot, to be honest, with the amount of time you spend together, I would think it odd if you didn't dream of her from time to time."

"I'm not stupid, George, and I have worked sex crimes for a long time. I know what's normal and what's not. Olivia is a beautiful woman and I know it's normal to fantasize about her.

"So what's different this time?"

"The way I dreamed of her." Elliot walked to the desk and starred out of the window.

"Was it sexual?"

Elliot started to laugh loud; he turned around and looked at George, amused. "It's always sexual when I dream about her, well, the most of the time."

George smiled too. "So, what was different this time, what concerns you so much?"

Elliot's smile faded. "I dreamed that I raped her."

"Well, I understand that this is confusing. But Elliot, thinking of what you see every day during your job, it's not unusual that your brain projects the things you see into your dreams and replaces the 'real people' with people who are familiar. It's a self protection mechanism of the brain. Your mind tries to heal itself. It does not mean that you really want to rape Olivia."

"No, you don't understand!" Elliot slapped his hand against the wall in frustration.

"What do I not understand? Explain it to me, Elliot."

"I can't. I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone." Elliot felt so tired; the last few weeks he had been angry the whole time and he was more aggressive than usual. He pushed the perps around and he felt like he couldn't do his job properly any longer. He had even yelled at a seven year-old boy who refused to talk to them after they interviewed him for 3 hours. And this little boy wasn't even the perp of the case, he was the victim. He was sexually abused by his stepfather.

After that, Elliot was scared of himself and he took three days off. It didn't help.

"You promised who not to tell what? Elliot, do you recognize that you sound like a victim – how often have you heard from a victim that they promised someone not to talk about the abuse?"

Elliot turned around and leaned at the desk to support his weak body. He looked at George and said:, "About a million times."

George was nodding. I recognized that something was bothering you, but I didn't understand how bad you felt the last weeks. "Elliot, tell me what happened. I can help you."

Tears started to run down Elliot's cheeks and he slowly slid down the desk until he was sitting on the floor. He supported his head with his hands. "I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone!"

George walked to Elliot and knelt next to him. He laid a supportive hand on Elliot's shoulder. "What happened, Elliot?"