Chapter 1

She always thought that she was a badass. She'd ruled high school. She'd made her way in New York. She was a fuckin' ADA with NYC. She'd gotten out of the cow town and made something of herself. Which is why she wasn't sure how she got where she was. Looking around the room, her eyes went wide at the sterile environment.

She didn't know how she'd ended there, but she knew that she didn't want to be there. The nurses kept talking to her as she kept working. Never stopping and never stepping out of her sight, the nurse continued to collect what she needed. She watched the woman as she moved around her. There was nothing she could in that moment. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't. Her body was numb. She was lost.

And, then she walked in. She knew who she was as soon as she saw her. If it had been anyone else, she'd've kicked her out. But, she couldn't. They were friends, sort of. They were co-workers. But, she knew that the detective before her was there for a reason and for once it wasn't to give her a disposition. She let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding.

"What do you need me to do?" the detective asked her.

Looking at her with those dark eyes, she could see the pain and determination in the detective's own dark eyes. Her eyes closed. Tears that she'd willed to stop started flowing again, silently and slowly down her stained cheeks. Opening them, the detective was beside the bed, whispering things and she couldn't follow along. Her brain stopped.

"Statistics say that..."

"Not now, don't talk about that now," the detective told her.

"Why not? I know what it's like. I've prosecuted these cases. Now, I am just another statistic, Benson. You can't stop that."

"No, I can't. But, I can catch the sonuvabitch that did this to you. Alex is already at the station. When we heard..."

"She's where?"

"Working with Barba and the rest of the team."

"Why?"

"Why not?" Benson questioned.

Next thing she knew, she was standing and the nurse was taking pictures. Her body was being documented, every tattoo, every injury, every scar. She took the scrubs that the nurse handed her and slowly dressed behind a curtain. She had no dignity now. She had no self-worth. She was broken, battered and damaged.

"We aren't going to rest until we get him. You should know that. It doesn't matter who you are. We won't stop."

"What's the point? He'll get off with a light sentence and just go do it again. And, I'll be vilified in the press. I can read the headline now. SUV ADA Raped. What is the City supposed to do with that? What are the victims supposed to do? How can they trust me? If I couldn't protect myself, how will I be able to protect anyone else?" she called from the curtain.

Benson looked at the nurse as she closed the rape kit. She knew that her friend was hurting. It was tearing her apart. When she'd gotten the call, she flew out of her apartment to the hospital. Thankfully, the responding officer knew who she was and called immediately. Alex heard enough to go straight to the station. The Manhattan SUV team was already on the scene and working the case. They knew how critical the first twenty-fours were.

Benson looked around the room. She'd been there too many times before, but this was the first time that she thought she was there for one of her own. She knew from the text she got seconds before that Alex was outside. They didn't know what to do. They wanted to help their friend, but everyone acted differently. They didn't know if she'd take the help. They didn't know if she'd...

"What do you want to know?" she asked Benson as she came around the curtain.

"Do you want to go somewhere else to do this?"

"Not the precinct."

"Of course."

"Another room? Here? The chapel?" she asked.

"If you want, sure," Benson told her.

"Am I good?" she asked the nurse.

"Yes, ma'am," the nurse said, her voice laced with pity.

She couldn't take it. She needed to be out of that room. She'd been there before, but this time... She couldn't stay. She wanted to run, but knew that it would solve anything. She knew that she needed to stand up to her attacker. She knew that it was going to be an uphill battle. Rape cases always were.

"I feel disgusting," she told Benson.

"I know."

"Alex is outside, isn't she?"

"Yes."

"Figures."

"You're her protege. Did you think that she would let you do this alone? Neither of us will," Benson told her.

"Can we go now?"

"Yeah," Benson replied quietly.

She took the offered hand that Benson gave her. The flip flops they gave her sucked. She knew that she would never see the outfit that she was wearing again. She honestly didn't want it back. It was soiled. It was evidence. It meant nothing to her anymore.

Alex took her other hand as they walked through the hospital. She let them lead the way. She vaguely heard Benson say chapel and Alex took the lead. Making their way to a bank of elevators, they rode up to the second floor. It didn't take long before they were seated in the front pew.

She stared at the cross. She tried to look at Alex, but she couldn't. To see the pity and sadness in the other counselors eyes would make her break. And, she never broke. Now, she was already broken. She knew that the pieces of her life lied around NYC now. Part of her in a box headed to the lab. Part of her in bags that contained her clothes, heading to the station to be processed for evidence. Her heart was inside her body, but her mind was still in an ally downtown.

"I know that you don't want to..."

"I know that you have to know, Benson."

"I know."

"Where do you want to start?"

"I don't know," she answered.

"What is the last thing you remember before it happened?"

"That's a loaded question," she replied.

"Before the ally, where were you?"

"I'd gone to Broadway."

"To see a show?" Alex asked.

"Yeah, an old friend landed a staring role. I've been so hard at work that I haven't taken anytime for myself, let alone anyone else. When I saw the reviews and that she was the headliner, I knew that I had to go. Since I wasn't on call this weekend, for once, I figured I'd go to the Saturday show. I bought tickets, a new dress, and planned my evening."

"You went alone?"

"I met an old friend."

"That friend have a name?" Alex inquired.

"Yeah."

"San..." Benson pushed.

"Quinn Fabray."

"And, she saw it with you?"

"She did."

"But, you split up after the show?" Alex questioned.

"Yes, she had to be up early tomorrow for some meeting with her editors and shit. I was planning on meeting her in the afternoon to help her review her contracts. I was hungry, so I decided to head back towards my loft. I would just get something on the way."

"I take it, you didn't make it," Benson stated more than asked.

"No."

"Do you remember where you were attacked?"

"No."

"Okay. What else do you remember?"

"I was walking down Broadway back towards my loft. I was heading towards Times Square Diner and Grill. I don't remember getting there."

"Okay, what theatre were you at?" Alex asked as she watched Benson taking notes.

"The Gershwin," she answered.

"Who's your friend performing there?" Benson asked.

"Doesn't matter. She doesn't know anything about this. I don't..."

"San...We aren't going to ask her anything. We're just trying to piece your night together. Just..."

"Who is Quinn to you?"

"An old friend and a client."

"Client?"

"Yeah, I majored in entertainment law along with criminal law at Columbia. I have a lot of famous friends. I work for them on my own time. I've represented most of them for years. I did it even before I started working for the City."

"And, how did I not know about this?"

"Because I don't let it interfere with my work. They come to my loft, generally, after hours. Entertainment is a twenty-four hour business. I keep weird hours, but I'm there for them anytime they need me. Besides, the pay is good."

"I'd say," Benson replied.

"Look, I doubt that has anything to do with it."

"Have any of your clients made any threatening gestures towards you?"

"Not since high school," she replied.

"How many clients do you have?"

"Besides Quinn?"

"Yes," Alex said.

"Well there's Mike, Brittany, Mercedes, and Rachel."

"Four?"

"Five with Quinn."

"Any one else we should know about?"

"The only other person in common is Tina. She's their manager and agent. And, then Kurt and Blaine...well, they dress us," San replied.

"Why do I feel like I should know all these people?" Benson inquired.

"Because you do, but you don't know that you do," she stated.

"How did you end up in the ally?"

"I don't know."

"What do you remember?"

"I was walking. I felt something on my arm. Next thing, I know I am in the ally. I don't know what street. I don't know where I am. Something hits my head and then black. I woke up and came stumbling out. A beat cop saw me, recognized and brought me here in a bus."

"Who?"

"Sanchez...Victoria Sanchez," she replied.

"Know her?"

"Worked with her on some cases, yes."

"So Sanchez saw you and brought you in."

"Yes."

"Who asked for the rape kit?"

"I did."

"Why?"

"Because..."

"You need to tell us," Alex said as she reached over and took her hand.

"My vagina hurt. I felt violated. I wasn't just robbed and clobbered over the head. More happened, I just wasn't awake for it."

"How long do you think you were out?" Benson asked.

"No more than a few minutes. The clock in the ER said it was just after midnight. The show got out at eleven, so..."

"Okay, that helps. Do you remember seeing anything else? Feeling anything? Smell anything?"

"This is New York. I could smell trash. I got grabbed and then I was knocked out."

"Okay, Alex is going to take care of your credit cards and IDs and such first thing this morning. I'll put traces on them all. We'll find out who did this."

"Okay," she replied as she pulled her hands away from them.

They watched as she walked over to the prayer rail in front of the chapel's small alter. She knelt down and crossed herself. Benson's heart broke as soon as she heard the words leaving her mouth.

"Hail Mary, full of grace..." she started quietly as she prayed.

"Liv, we can't leave her alone tonight."

"I know that, Alex, but I doubt that she'll let us take her home with us."

"Then we convince her."

"Maybe we can call someone to stay with her."

"Or she could go stay with Quinn?"

"NO," she said turning around.

"What?"

"Absolutely no one is to know about this."

"San..."

"None of them can know."

"You need to be with someone tonight."

"I'll be fine."

"San..."

"No."

"San..."

"Who is your emergency contact?"

"Dios Mio...mierda de mierda."

"San..."

"She's going to be here anyway...Fuck!"

"Who?"

Just then the doors burst open and the whirlwind that was Rachel Berry was standing in them. They all turned to look at her. Alex stood up slowly, looking from the petite brunette in the doorway to the broken woman at the alter rail.

"Santana?" she asked quietly as she walked up the aisle.

"Not now, Berry."

"San..."

"No, absolutely not. I am not going with her. I can't."

"What happened?" Rachel asked as she looked from the detective, to the ADA and back to Santana still kneeling in scrubs.

"San tell her," Alex implored.

"No."

"Okay, so don't tell her, but let her stay with you tonight."

"No."

"Santana Christina Lopez, what the fuck happened to you tonight?" Rachel inquired in full diva mode.

Benson cocked an eyebrow at the woman. Alex looked like she wanted to laugh, but she stifled it. Santana hung her head.

"Berry..." she tried to protest.

"She was attacked," Benson said carefully.

"Where?"

"Doesn't matter," San added quickly.

Looking from the detective to Santana and back again, Rachel took another step forward. She knelt down in front of her and raised her head with her fingers. She looked into her troubled eyes. The pain she saw there broke Rachel's heart.

"You're coming home with me."

"Berry...I'm fine."

"The fuck you are, Satan. You're pushing because you're scared. I can see it. Now, either you can come home with me, or I call everyone come here. Your choice," Rachel told her.

"You wouldn't dare," San challenged her.

Handing her phone to Alex, she looked back at Santana.

"Scroll through my contacts. You'll find a listing called Lima. Start with Quinn Fabray and work your way all the way down to Brittany S. Pierce. There should be about seven or eight numbers to call," Rachel told her.

Santana watched as her former boss started scrolling. Her fingers were hovering over the dial button when she looked back at Santana. Rachel hadn't stopped looking at her.

"Alex...please..." Santana pleaded with the blonde.

"Your choice," Rachel reiterated, firmly.

"Rachel..."

"You come home with me and let me take care of you or call them all in. You did it for me while I was at NYADA. Don't think that I won't do it now. And, I know that Quinn is in town."

"Rach..."

"How long do you think that it would take Mercedes, Sam and Puck to get here from LA?"

"Rae..."

"I need an answer, councilor," Rachel pushed her.

"Fine, I'll stay at your condo."

"Address?" Benson asked.

Rachel reached into the back pocket of the jeans she was in and handed her card to the detective. She didn't say anything else as she moved closer to Santana. Their eyes were still warring with each other.

"You can call that number in the morning and arrange a meeting."

"We'll take you home," Benson stated.

"Nonsense. My car service is downstairs. I just need to get out of the hospital without being seen. Can you arrange that?"

"Yes," Alex said quickly. "And, I'll call Barba. Take a few days, San."

"Do I have choice?"

"No," they all told her.

"Fine."

"Is there something else for her to wear?"

"Not here, no," Benson said with a hint of sorrow.

"Alex?" Rachel asked.

"Yes."

"If you'll go downstairs, just outside the main entrance will be a town car. Please have Simon get my bag and give it to you. Tell him that Maria sent you. He'll know what it means. Detective? We'll need a room."

"I'll arrange it," Benson told her and left the chapel.

"Why, Rachel?"

"Because you need someone, Santana. You don't have to face this alone. You were attacked. And, I am your friend."

She just nodded. She didn't trust her voice anymore. The tears started again and Rachel took her in her arms, rocking her softly.

"It'll be okay, San. I promise. Your friends will find the attacker and deal with it. I promise."

She ran her hands through the Latina's hair as she held her close. She didn't care what happened. All she knew was that she got a call from the hospital saying that Santana had been admitted. She didn't know what happened. It didn't matter. San was hurt and she needed Rachel. That was all that mattered. They could deal with the rest of it in the morning...later.