Hiders and Liars
Part 1: Hiders

A companion piece to "Six Feet Below" and "Truths".

Original Publish Date: August 13, 2005

Disclaimer: I do not own SVU or any of the characters from SVU. They belong exclusively to Dick Wolf and NBC. I do however hold the rights to any original characters that may be present.

Warnings: Not much, but there is a scene which does have some sex. It NEVER goes above a PG-13 rating, but it does elude to some things.

Part 1 complete, part 2 on the way

Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long to get out, but I was really struggling where to go next. I have a few ideas, but over the past couple of weeks it's been really hard to find a story that "works". After this week to the end of August I am on a trip, so I might only be able to update once, perhaps twice. Thanks to everyone who's given me support. You guys (and gals) are awesome!

I very much recommend reading "Six Feet Below" and "Truths", but this story does work just fine on it's own.

This takes place from Olivia's POV.

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I really wanted to be drunk that night—I really did. You know, just enough alcohol in me to be coherent but enough that I couldn't be rational. That way I could savor the memory, without taking the blame. That is the story of my life. Me doing something I know is wrong and then me either hiding or lying to escape the consequences. Why do you think I became a cop? I understand the hiders and the liars. I understand the need to not be seen or not to see. Look at my mother. She had the best of both worlds. She didn't want to be seen after the rape for fear of the world judging her and she did not want to see me, the ultimate reminder of that moment.

My moment is a little different, but frighteningly the same. The idea is the same. Guy sees girl, girl and guy have sex and then guy leaves the girl with child. I try really hard not to be bitter, I know it doesn't sound like it, but I can only do so much. One night and I have a child that I have to raise alone and yet again am forced to hide and lie. Isn't life ironic?

It started out simply enough, the night did. Elliot and I were going out for a drink or two, as had become our custom after his divorce. That night we were alone. Munch had a conference in Detroit, Fin was visiting family, and Cragen was having dinner with one of his good friends from the academy days. Casey was the only one who was available, but she declined wanting to sleep decently the night before the final verdict on a rather close case. So it was just Elliot and I.

I was nursing my third beer when Elliot looked up at me. "Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if you and I had met?"

My eyebrow rose. "El, we did meet."

He sighed and began swirling the beer at the bottom of his fourth glass. He narrowed his blue eyes in concentration as the frothy amber liquid whirled around. "I mean earlier—before Kathy and I met, before Maureen, before our jobs. Do you think we would have stood a chance?"

I nearly dropped my beer. This was the conversation I had been replaying in my head since I had first seen him hold victim as she cried. This was the conversation I had avoided for years. We had been so close to never having it. Why now? Why now?

"Elliot, if we start thinking like that, we'll lose what we have now." I answered quietly, reaching over to put my hand on top of his, gently rubbing his calloused fingers with my thumb. "We have too precious a relationship to do anything."

Elliot peered at me. His eyes were red rimmed and I feared that he would begin to cry. Four drinks typically didn't knock him over like this. I knew him well enough to know what the look in his eyes was saying. You want it as much as I do, his eyes remarked to me.

Biting my lip, I looked away. Elliot knew that this was just bull. My entire "we're just friends" speech had been carefully crafted so that Elliot wouldn't know anything, so he would suspect that I would travel through hell just to be with him—and not just the "I'm a friend" travel through hell. God, I loved him and I was too weak to admit it and we were both too stubborn to let go.

As soon as my eyes left his, Elliot knew the preconceived roots of my carefully constructed answer. He leaned forward and reached out to gently turn my face toward him, forcing me to meet his eyes. "This is stupid, Liv. This is nothing but stupidity."

"Elliot, we can't," I whispered, too afraid that my meager walls would break and I would go with him. "What about our jobs?"

Elliot shook his head and sighed. He leaned back in his chair, fixing his sight on an obscure mark in the ceiling. I slumped in my chair. Elliot had just offered me what I want most in the world and I, like a scared child, had shot him down, using the pathetic excuse of work.

When Elliot allowed all four chair legs to hit the floor, he gave me one last look before, turning around to grab his jacket. That one look was all I needed. In a brief flash of a second, I saw the pain and love and lust all swirl and combine and my body reacted. My heart jumped out of my chest, pounding and quivering, trying to understand the depth that Elliot felt for me. My breath caught in my throat and my body went slack. How could I possibly ever look him in the eye, or naturally talk to him at work again with this naked need forever haunting my thoughts?

"Elliot," I whispered faintly, my throat dry. I reached forward and grabbed his hand. "Come home with me."

His eyes widened in surprise, but he said nothing, just tightening his hand around mine. I threw a couple of dollars on the table and grabbed my jacket, throwing it over my other arm. We left the musky, smoke filled bar hand in hand.

Without a sound we walked to his car, passing an older couple, they too supported by the hand of the other. The woman, clearly in her seventies, had the calm of a person about to die as her husband told a story with one hand and with great enthusiasm. I could see her flinch at every step, but she was quick to reassure him and he moved on, continuing the great adventure he was telling. The woman brought his hand up to her lips and kissed it, a sorrowful smile graced her as he let the hand fall back to her side. For all the pain in her life, she was so content.

I wondered if that's where Elliot and I would have been in thirty years, had we been allowed to love each other. Would we ever be so comfortable with each other, walking hand in hand? Could I ever be so content?

With a slight grin, I felt a tug from Elliot and quickened my step to catch up with him. He was in a rush, I could tell. I figured he thinks I'd change my mind. As if. I was certain of what I was doing. I had to be. Elliot certainly was.

With a lift of my hand to his lips, Elliot opened the passenger door for me. I gave him an odd look, but gracefully folded my legs and sat down. I craned my head to look back at Elliot as he walked around the car. His movements were stiff, almost as if someone was controlling him by strings. With a quick glance he yanked open his door and slid inside. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turned white. His jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed in focus. I could see the muscles in his face tightening and relaxing.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly, placing a hand on his arm.

Elliot whipped around. His visibly calmed when he saw me. "Yeah. It's just . . ."

I gave him a few moments before softly prompting him. "Just what Elliot?"

The sorrow in his eyes grew tenfold and he reached over to take hold of my hand in his two. "I feel like I've pressured you into this. Do you really want to, to do this?" That flash of need blinked across his face again.

I leaned forward and placed my lips firmly against his, forcing his mouth to open and allow my tongue to dip in. Elliot breathed in pleasure and took my face in his hands, forcing me closer. Before we crossed the line of no return, I pulled away, not far but just enough so he couldn't pull me back. I panted lightly through open lips. "I hope that was enough of a yes for you," I said with a grin on my face as I leaned back into my seat and pulled the belt across my lap.

Elliot's eyes followed me with every move. That need again was in full force and I wondered if my eyes betrayed my own need just as bad.

The drive home was surprisingly not awkward—or at least an unawkward as could be. Elliot was surprising calm. He seemed to be relatively at ease, unlike me. I found it highly amusing that at first he was nervous and I was the one who pushed for it, for this, but now, now I could barely help but shiver with apprehension—although whether it was from the want or the dread I felt, I didn't know. But this was going to change both of us. For better or worse right?

Elliot smoothly led the car to my parking spot, under my apartment. That was one of the nice things about the particular building I lived in—the owners gave me a permanent parking spot, with me being a cop and leaving at who knows what God forsaken hour in the morning.

The car shut off with a deep rumble and the sudden lack of car lights left us in the scant light of the parking garage. It just enough to cast shadows around the car and his face, highlighting the rough angles around his jaw and the thin scars that littered his forehead and neck. His eyes seemed to glow out of the darkness as he watched me. He breathed deeply and opened the door. I pushed my own door open, my breath coming in quick, quivering gasps. I waited for him to come around the car. Without a word I held out my hand and he took it.

We didn't look at each other as we walked to the elevator. When the door closed behind us, I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his chest. My nails delicately ran up and down in back in slow circles. His muscular arms enclosed me, with one hand resting on my back, just above my jeans and the other hand holding the back of my head close to him: holding me as if I was a glass figure that without his support would break.

We never spoke about how right it felt, about how we both knew that this is where we belonged. For the first time in my life I felt secure. No matter what, Elliot would protect me. All those years of living under an abusive, alcoholic mother and the looming reality of my conception seemed to melt away. For once I didn't have to wonder about the rightness of what I was doing. This was what I wanted, what I needed and if I didn't love him now, I would spend the rest of my life hiding from him, turning away when he looked at me with overwhelming love in his eyes. That was not the life I wanted.

When the elevator came to a rough stop, I regretfully unwrapped my arms and stepped away. Elliot kept one hand around my head and pulled me back toward him and kissed me. My arms fell slack and I breathed in his kiss, savoring his love for me. He pulled away an inch and rested his forehead on mine. A wisp of a smile graced my lips and I cupped my hand around his face. I kissed him gently, once, and fully pulled away, gripping his hand in my own. I needed that touch.

I fumbled to get my keys out one handed. Elliot stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my stomach, placing soft kisses on my neck and shoulders, whispering something that I couldn't understand.

The lock opened with a click and Elliot stood straight. He breathed with anticipation. Tremors cascaded through me as I touched the knob. I was sure of what we were doing, but this meant that we would be no longer hiding. This meant that we could no longer look at each other as friends, we were becoming so much more.

Elliot reached forward and put his hand on mine, pushing the door open. I paused, stuck in a brief moment of fear. Elliot turned me around so I faced him. He looked at me with such intensity that I almost melted right there. He leaned down to gently kiss me, but my own body reacted and I pushed myself onto him, forcing my mouth onto his.

Not slowing, Elliot pushed me inside and slammed the door shut with his foot. He untangled his hand from my hair so he could reach out and click the lock shut. This was our night.

Elliot pushed me up against the wall, using his body to keep me there as he worked my sweater up over my head. He threw it on the nearby table. I almost thanked him because that was my favorite sweater, but his tongue pushed further into my mouth.

I pushed him away from me and locked my foot around his ankle so he fell against the couch. I landed on him, hard.

That night we were on each other like animals at a kill. The fierce intensity lasted for hours, sometimes quieter, sometimes louder, but it was the same—we were fulfilling the physical need for our love for each other. We both knew that this was it. Never again would we allow our lust and love for each other to come full force. Never again would we fulfill this primitive need. Our relationship would be utterly non physical. That was the curses of my life. I could love more deeply than I thought possible, but there would be some wall—work, age, addiction—that would stand between me and them. This one, however, was the only one that I've ever actually paid attention to.

We did eventually end up in my bed, sleeping. I curled around Elliot, my head resting on his chest and his arms protectively wrapped around my shoulders. Tomorrow we would go back to hiding, but tonight we were on our honeymoon.

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