Disclaimer: Don't own them. Don't really own anything except this piano of mine but I'm thinking of giving that up considering my teacher called me up and yelled at me for about three minutes this afternoon without any real reason. Seriously.

I came up with this idea for a story a couple of days ago and I don't know if it's any good so the continuation (or otherwise) depends on the opinons of you!

She should have resisted him. She should have fought him harder. She should have done everything differently tonight; then she wouldn't be lying stock still in her bed, unable to sleep and knowing that her world would never be the same again.


The water boiled ferociously, causing both water and pasta to cascade down the side of the saucepan. The glass fell and shattered on the floor as an arm collided with it to save the pasta. And just as Olivia was about to salvage what remained of her dinner, the phone started ringing. She might not be a cook, but Olivia sure as hell was a multitasker. And she owned a cordless phone.

"Hello?" Olivia answered, taking the saucepan off the stove and sadly noting that the pasta was a lost cause, instead grabbing a dustpan and broom to sweep up the broken glass.

"Hey, Liv."

"Elliot," Olivia stopped sweeping for a second as her stomach did its routine Elliot-related somersault. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to forget that I'm at home alone on a Friday night."

"The same as me, then."

"Well, if we're both doing the same thing, we might as well be doing it together. Do you want to come over?"

Olivia looked around at her distraught kitchen. There was no way she had to think twice about that answer.

"Sure. Why not? I'll be there soon."


There was no doubt about it: Olivia definitely liked Elliot. A lot. The several beers she had consumed only made her more aware of that fact. She realised it when they both laughed at the same time in the movie. She couldn't help but realise it every time they touched each other-accidentally or not-and the normal tingles progressed into a searing heat. And she realised it whenever they were talking and he'd look intently at her, like he really cared about what she had to say. She'd always liked Elliot, that was no surprise, but by the time he walked her to her car, Olivia was almost willing to admit that she was in love with him.

"Are you sure you're okay to be driving home, Liv?" Elliot asked.

"Of course-there's a difference between drunk and tipsy, Elliot, and I," Olivia said proudly, "am tipsy."

"Glad to hear it,"Elliot said, slightly bemused at the effect of three beers on Olivia. It was like she'd drunk on an empty stomach or something.

Olivia looked up at Elliot, about to say something, but her words were cut short by a look of surprise as she stumbled over a piece of uneven pavement. Elliot quickly reached out for her, steadying her in his arms while trying to ignore the seunsual scent of her perfume tantalising his nose and the way his arms seemed to fit perfectly around her.

"And you still think you're fine to drive home?" Elliot asked, his voice coming out lower, softer and less mockingly than he'd intended.

Olivia was about to defend herself, tell him that uneven pavemet in a dimly lit street was a danger to the most sober of people, but this idea quickly faded as she realised Elliot's arms were still around her. He was holdiong her closer and longer than he should have but that didn't bother Olivia. What bothered her was that sooner or later, Elliot would have to let go and this incredible feeling of safety enveloping her would vanish. So Olivia remained silent, afraid of breaking the spell, and instead found herself looking into Elliot's eyes that were gazing back of her with that deep intensity of his.

"Olivia..." Elliot whispered, instantly forgetting what he was going to say and why he'd even said her name in the first place. All he knew was what he wanted to do-it was the same thing he'd wanted to do since God knows when-and he could feel all of his self restraint disappearing.

He kissed her. One second he was saying her name and the next thing she knew, his lips were against hers. Olivia had dreamt of how it would feel if he kissed her, and now that it was happening, it surpassed all imagination.

She shouldn't have kissed back but she did. She reciprocated the urgency he showed her, tongues exploring new mouths for the first time. Her hands ran up his muscular arms, locking themselves around his neck as she breathed in the faint smell of his aftershave that would have a different meaning to her from now on. It was no longer an aftershave to dream to, but an aftershave to remember to. Then, as soon as it started, it finished. Olivia looked up at Elliot, trying to read the expression on his face.

"I don't think you should be driving home," Elliot said gruffly.

She should have left then. Before it could go any further. But she had been waiting for something like this to happen for so long and her emotions were drowning out her logic. She looked into Elliot's eyes and she knew she couldn't bear to leave.

"Definitely not in the right state," Olivia agreed.

Elliot released his grip on Olivia, sliding one of his hands down to grasp hers.

"We should probably take this inside," he said.

Olivia nodded and allowed Elliot to lead her inside. It wasn't the first time he'd held her hand but there was something about tonight, something about his warm, firm grip on her that blocked out the rest of the world, leaving her feeling as though she was floating on air. She'd never felt so light on her feet or so feminine as she did at that moment.

Neither spoke a word as Elliot led Olivia to his bedroom. Letting go of her hand, he closed the door behind him before turning to face Olivia. He opened his mouth, about to ask her if she was sure of this, but before he had the chance, Olivia had attached her lips to his again.

Elliot decided there was no need to ask that question.


Olivia lay completely silent and still in bed as the sound of Elliot's light snores drifted over to her. What had she done? She'd been loved more than she'd ever been loved before but she'd also been guided by her passions more than she'd ever been before. She was normally such a controlled, rational person and here she was, having slept with her best friend and partner at work because she'd been unable to control her desire. So many things could go wrong from here: her realtionship with Elliot might be ruined and she could loose her best friend. Elliot might want to forget this ever happened-or, perhaps equally as bad, he might not.

Her head was spinning. Her logic still hadn't returned. Olivia tried closing her eyes for a moment, in a desperate attempt to wish everything away, but when she opened her eyes, she was still in Elliot's room, lying next to Elliot, in Elliot's bed. There was too much Elliot. She had to get out.

Slowly, Olivia rolled over and out of the bed, being careful not to wake Elliot. She grabbed her clothes, strewn all over the room, and slipped out into the bathroom before getting dressed. She looked at herself in the mirror, hearing the same words over and over: What have you done? What have you done? What have you done

The instant she got dressed, Olivia escaped from Elliot's as quickly as she could, practically running to her car. The cold night air mixed with her flood of emotions did not mix, and she leaned against her car, closing her eyes for several seconds as dizziness cursed through her.

She couldn't drive. Not like this, not when her thoughts were a mess and she was dizzy with stress and confusion. But she had to get home. The only solution Olivia could think of was going for a quick walk around the block to see if it helped her gather her thoughts.

If her logic had returned, Olivia would have known that walking around New York, unarmed, at one in the morning was never a good idea. If her logic had returned, Olivia would have heard the footsteps steadily keeping in time with her own. If her logic had returned, Olivia would have noticed the footsteps increasing in pace. And if her logic had returned, there was no way Olivia would have leant against the side of that building and closed her eyes for several seconds as another wave of dizziness hit her.

It all happened so quickly. One second, she could feel nothing but the cold night air on her face, the next instant, a strong hand was gripping her two hands together while what she assumed to be a handkerchief covered her face. Olivia gasped in surprise-her first mistake: the instant she gasped, a sickly sweet smell engulfed her mouth. She tried to fight back, she tried to break away from his grasp, but concentrating so much on her movements had the result of Olivia forgetting not to breathe. She was being pushed into a nearby alley and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't do a damn thing. With every attempted jab at her attacker, Olivia would involuntarily draw in breath and it wasn't long before she reached a state where she could not fight back.

As she drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness, Olivia could hear from what seemed to be a far off distance, the sound of a fly being undone. Before she lost all consciousness, the thought drifted through Olivia's mind: Chloroform...how quaint...how trite...


Olivia never quite understood how she got home safely that night. She woke up maybe an hour later, half naked and with a terrible headache, still in the alley. As soon as she stood up, a wave of nausea hit her that she could not fight, and she threw up, her entire body shaking from the vomiting, disbelief and fear. But instinct kicked in, and she realised that she had to protect herself and get to her car. Pushing what had just happened and how she felt aside, Olivia somehow managed to run all the way back to her car and climb in. She drove home, still refusing to think about what had just happened, nearly running into several different cars before finally arriving at the safety of her building.

She stumbled up to her flat, ensuring every lock was secured, before she succumbed again to nausea in her bathroom. She stepped into the shower, refusing to look at herself in the mirror, and spent what felt like hours trying to scrub the night away. She didn't care if she washed away evidence. She wasn't going to report the rape, anyway. All she wanted to do right now was fall into bed and try to forget everything that had happened tonight. She didn't want to spend the next million hours reliving every moment of what happened. She didn't want her squad to know that she'd been raped in Elliot's area because she'd just slept with her partner.

Olivia tucked herself into bed, pushing aside every single piece of advice she had given to every rape victim she had spoken to. She didn't care if it made her a hypocrite. For the second time that night, Olivia made what she wanted the focus, rather than what she knew was right. Perhaps she'd feel differently in the morning, but Olivia wasn't the sort of person to just change her mind constantly.

Her life as she knew it was over. She might loose her best friend and she had definitely lost her dignity. It wasn't until she felt something warm and wet land on her chest that she realised she was crying.

Olivia Benson would now be able to relate to victims more than she ever could before.

Like I said, I'm not totally sure if I should keep going with this story so please let me know what you think! Review!! (Please.)