AN: It's the one episode that made me annoyed with Olivia. She got Ashley to identify Lowell Harris as her rapist by pushing her towards remembering the mole on his penis. Benson could've gotten him for attempted rape and assault of a police officer which carries a sentence enhancement. But she didn't want anyone to know. For all her "confronting your attacker" spiel she gives every victim, she couldn't do it herself and I thought it made her a hypocrite. But by the time I finished this story, I thought differently. P.S. – Anything in bold print is directly from the show. Italics from the movie.
"What happened in the basement?" He asks in a low voice, standing close.
Olivia doesn't even hesitate before lying.
"Nothing," she tells him. "I'm fine El."
Elliot looks at her then. They both know she's lying. And they both know he's letting her. The ringing of her phone is an answer to a prayer she hadn't bothered to utter.
"Benson," she answers, then listens for a few seconds. "Okay, I'll be right there."
He's staring at her the whole time, with that look of compassion he reserves for small children who witness heinous things, and those victims who experience them. Olivia knows she isn't the former and outright refuses to think of herself as the latter.
"I have to go," she tells Elliot.
As she gets up to leave, she can feel his eyes on her. She heard the sympathy in his voice, saw it in his eyes and she can't stand it.
'I wasn't raped', she thinks to herself. 'I wasn't raped.'
It's become a mantra that's been on repeat in her head since she got her personal clothes, Sig and shield back after she got home. Olivia had never been so happy for her own shower and some privacy in all her life.
The smell of that place, the sounds of women crying themselves to sleep, the horrible food, having to shut her eyes on a mattress God only knows what happened on, are things she won't soon miss. She had to exist inside a cell with someone she couldn't close her eyes around, helplessly witness violence over the smallest of things. The simple inhumanity of it all is something that has left its indelible mark.
Then there's Lowell Harris.
Thank God Ashley was able to identify him. Hopefully the hellhole he ends up in, is as bad as or worse than Sealview. Olivia took personal satisfaction in being able to walk him in handcuffs pass the women whose hells he made worse.
As she types up the last bit of her DD-5 on the case, she begins to rub her eyes. She's so very tired because rest hasn't come easy lately. Two days ago she got back and she's maybe slept a grand total of four hours. Even now she gets flashes of being thrown onto the filthy, putrid mattress, hears the sound of his belt as it fell apart with the weight of his duty equipment still attached, and the lowering of his zipper.
"Bite me and you're dead," he'd told her.
"You're still here," comes a voice from behind, making her jump and nearly reach for her weapon.
Elliot saw her reaction.
"Yeah," she says, after calming a bit. "Yeah just finishing up," she adds as she shuts down her computer. "I'm heading out now."
He watches as she retrieves the documents from the printer, puts them in a file folder and drops it into her "out" box for Cragen in the morning.
"Me too actually," he tells her. "Forgot a couple of files I wanted to work on at home," he excuses. "I can give you a lift."
It's a lie. He's been worried about her since seeing her return with that bruise on her face. The fact that both she and Fin are suddenly so secretive and talking in hushed tones like they're hiding something doesn't sit well with him either.
"I'm good," she tells him, gathering her things. "I can just cab it."
"It's no trouble Liv," he offers. "It'll only take a minute to grab what I need then we can go."
She sees it for what it is, another opportunity for him to get her alone in the hopes that she'll be more forthcoming, honest this time. But she has nothing to confess and if she did it wouldn't be any of his business in the first place.
Then again Olivia knows just how stubborn he can be so she'll accept the ride. She's too tired to argue with him anyway.
"Okay," she tells him. "Thanks."
During the drive he's eerily quiet like a man on a mission going over the finite details of his plan before executing it. The shadows move over his face periodically with them passing by each street lamp. He gives her side glances every now and again, as if she'll suddenly decide to spill her guts.
Olivia has fallen asleep during the ride.
Elliot is with her, she feels safe with him and had no worries when her eyes slipped close. 'Just for a minute,' she'd thought. 'I'll close my eyes, just for a minute.'
He watches her, sees her face turn up in distress, the increase in her breathing and the near silent whimpers. In an uncharacteristic move, he reaches over and grabs her hand, rubbing the soft skin on top with his thumb.
"You're okay Liv," he soothes. "You're safe."
She quiets after that and Elliot has to tell himself not to read too much into it. When he pulls up to her apartment building he reluctantly retrieves his hand before waking her.
"Liv," he rasps.
Her chest rises and falls slowly as she continues to slumber. Elliot reaches out and gently shakes her shoulder a bit. Olivia's eyes finally open and she blinks a few times before coming around.
"Am I home?" She asks in a sleepy tone.
"Yeah," he answers. "We're here."
"Thanks for the ride," she says, reaching for the door handle. "See you Monday."
"Liv," he begins. "Do you…have anything to drink?"
"You dodging diaper duty again," she digs.
"Um no," he responds. "Kathy took Eli and the twins to visit her sister in Jersey for the weekend," he explains. "Kathleen is at a slumber party and Maureen and some friends are pulling an all-nighter to study for some big test before spring break."
"I see."
"So…
"Come on," she tells him.
Elliot throws the car in park, turns off the ignition and follows Olivia inside her building. They don't bother making small talk in the elevator. It's an unnecessary habit that they've never formed. Either they talk about cases or something else of substance. Never the "nice weather we're having" type of conversation.
As they step inside her apartment, he notices that virtually every light in the place that can be turned on, is.
"Do you use a timer or something?" He asks as he settles himself on the sofa.
Olivia hangs her jacket in a nearby closet before moving into the kitchen.
"What?"
"It's pretty bright in here and it was daytime when you left home," he points out. "I just figured…
"No," she tells him as she pulls two beers from the fridge. "I just, forget to turn them off I guess," she adds, using an opener to pop off the caps.
Elliot gives her an understanding nod. She hands him a cold bottle before sitting in the opposite corner of the sofa.
"You mind cutting off some of these?" He asks, alluding to the glow of the room.
"Sure, no problem."
Olivia moves to extinguish every light save for the lamp on her sofa table behind them and the one in the kitchen.
"Better?"
"Yeah."
Elliot nervously rubs a sweaty palm against his pant leg. She's half turned towards him, but neither make eye contact. It's been quite some time since they've sat and talked, likely not since he came to check on her when the crap hit the fan with Simon.
"Liv," he begins. "Why didn't you go after Harris for attempted murder of a cop?" He asks. "At minimum excessive force?"
"We got him for raping Ashley Tyler and killing her mother," she explains. "He's gonna be in prison for life."
"You didn't answer the question."
Olivia exhales frustratingly before taking a longer drink from her bottle.
"You know we go after the heavier charges Elliot," she points out. "What does it matter?"
"Because we also tack on as many charges as we can to make sure a piece of crap like that doesn't have the possibility of parole," he asserts. "So why not this time?"
He doesn't hesitate with the next question.
"And how did you know Ashley Tyler was right about the mole?"
And there it is. Asking her if she had something to drink was just a pretext for Elliot to get into her apartment, a place she feels safe, to bring up the topic of Lowell Harris again. Something he knows Olivia would rather not discuss.
She's shaking her head as she gets off the sofa, having a hard time believing she fell for it.
"I'm done talking about this."
"We both know he did something to you Olivia," he contends. "Why aren't you trying to make him pay for it?"
She downs the rest of her beer on the way to the kitchen, tosses it in the trash and reaches into the refrigerator for another.
"It's none of your business Elliot," she tells him, angrily popping the cap off the second bottle. "Why are you pushing this?"
"I'm pushing?" He asks, standing and placing his beer on the coffee table. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"You pushed Ashley into remembering, into testifying when she didn't want to," he says, joining her in the kitchen but the opposite side of the counter.
"Oh, please," she says, slamming the bottle down on the counter. "It's not the first time either of us has encouraged someone to testify."
"That's when they were the only victim."
The words are barely out of his mouth before she responds.
"I'm not a victim!"
Her hands are shaking on the counter, her breaths are coming in rapid succession and she eyes him as if she could shoot him at any moment.
"Maybe not," he says. "But you're a hypocrite."
Olivia drops her eyes away from his, takes a deep breath and focuses on trying to calm herself. She's suddenly back there, hearing the clanking of his nightstick on the bars, smelling the filthy mattress he threw her on. She swallows hard before meeting his eyes again.
"I know," she admits, nearly whispering. "But I…they would've questioned my judgement as a cop, taken my badge for being so stupid," she continues. "I feel like a coward."
"Liv," he rasps. "I've been you're partner for ten years," he begins. "If you're a coward, it's the first I'm hearing of it and you've never been stupid."
She wants to believe what he's saying, wants to go back to feeling bold, confident and self-assured about who she is and that she still deserves to wear the badge. But the shakiness, the hypervigilance, the paranoia and insomnia are all things a victim experiences.
Not a cop.
"You can tell me," Elliot says, after giving her a few minutes. "I know something happened and you don't have to carry it alone."
"But I was alone," Olivia counters. "I am…alone."
Their partnership has been a fragile thing for several years now. He knows he left her emotionally, long before she left him physically. So perhaps he's made her feel like he can't be counted on. And if that's the case, he's going to do everything in his power to change that.
If Elliot argued the point that she isn't in fact alone, it won't mean as much, it would enter one ear and meaninglessly drift out the other. He's going to have to show her. They don't do grand gestures. It's not how they work. So little by little is how he has to fix what's broken between them.
And it's starts tonight.
"You hungry?" He asks, after too long a silence.
"Not really," Olivia answers.
She's never been a breakfast eater and knows he's seen her skip lunch for the last several days. Her sustenance has been the consumption of one cup after another of coffee. It's only made her jitteriness worse but without sleep, she needs to do something to stay focused on the job.
And of course he's noticed.
"Well if you don't mind," Elliot says, taking off his jacket and pulling out his cell. "I'm in the mood for sausage and pepperoni."
Olivia shrugs her shoulders, takes her beer and carries it into the living room. She grabs the remote, turns on the television and plants herself on her sofa. After channel surfing, she finds herself stopping on a rerun of some cop show.
They spend the next hour pointing out all the indescrepencies of police procedure and how solving a case is never as easy as they've made it appear. The pieces don't fall into place that quickly. Elliot manages to get an actual laugh out of her, something he admits he's missed hearing for some time.
He watches her jump when the buzzer sounds, announcing the pizza guy's arrival. He says nothing about it, just gets up to let him in. When he returns to the sofa with the pie and some napkins from the kitchen, he's noticed the Sigourney Weaver classic Aliens, is on.
"Good thing we're not catchin' this weekend," he points out. "This movie might just give me nightmares," he admits. "You couldn't find a comedy or some chick flick to force me to watch?"
Another laugh from her. Two in one day. He feels lucky.
"Don't pretend you don't enjoy 'em," Olivia says.
If she manages any sleep tonight, her nightmares will not be about having a monster with two sets of teeth bursting out of her chest. It'll be about being physically assaulted, chased and cornered by Lowell Harris before forcing her to…
"You can always hold my hand," she offers, trying to shake the unfinished thought from her head. "If you get scared."
"You makin' fun of me Benson?"
"Damn right," she answers.
Twenty minutes into the movie, Olivia reaches for a slice of pizza. To her surprise it doesn't immediately make her stomach roil with nausea. After two more she has her fill and sits back to settle in and enjoy the rest of the movie.
As Elliot gives her a side glance from time to time, she looks like she's contemplating saying something to him, maybe telling her story. But he's decided not to push her anymore. If his partner wants to talk she'll talk.
It has to be under her terms.
"He didn't rape me," she decides, almost whispering. "He tried but…Fin got there in time."
Elliot is instantly and eternally grateful to the man he's sometimes had a less than smooth relationship with.
"He used a lockdown as a diversion to...and I never should have let him take me down there," she tries. "I should've known better I-
"You couldn't have known what would happen," Elliot reasons. "You're not psychic," he tells her.
He now realizes just how much this has affected her, how much this has shaken her faith in who she is as a cop, as a woman. It's been easy to judge her for not wanting to scream to the world that she was almost raped undercover. Elliot hadn't thought about the irony of an SVU cop being sexual assaulted herself. Adding her name to the charges would've become a matter of public record.
The press would've eaten it up.
Olivia isn't in a place of rational thinking, of being strong enough to confront her own attacker in open court. She hasn't graduated from victim to survivor yet. Hell, she won't even admit that she's been victimized in the first damn place. His partner isn't done scrutinizing and blaming herself and not an hour ago he was willing to make her feel worse by calling her a hypocrite.
"I should've been able to do something," she asserts, standing abruptly. "In the end I ran like a coward and all I could do was scream for help!"
Elliot watches as she begins pacing, tears spilling suddenly down her face. She can't wipe them away fast enough before new ones appear. It kills him to watch but if she's intent on never going to talk to him about it again, he has to let her get it out now.
"I tried to fight," Olivia continues. "I did but…he's bigger…stronger," she goes on. "There was nothing…I couldn't do a f-cking thing!"
Her pulse races as she talks, reliving what happened with every word. She's back at that prison, hearing his baton raking against the bars, calling out to her.
"He has several inches and about twenty pounds on you Liv," he reasons, himself standing. "Running doesn't make you a coward, it makes you smart."
"But I feel like one," she admits, stopping in front of him. "I haven't been sleeping, I barely eat and I wanna crawl out of my own skin half the time," she confesses in a calmer tone.
"Liv," he begins, resisting the urge to touch her. "Sometimes being threatened with something can be just as traumatic as going through it," he reminds her. "It's still PTSD."
"I know Elliot," she tells him. "I had the same training you did but I wasn't gonna let what happened be put in some sixty-one for other cops to read," Olivia adds. "For Cragen or the brass to question whether or not I can still do my job now that I'm…
"A victim," he finishes.
She closes her eyes with his words and slowly nods, finally admitting the truth. When Elliot surprises her with an unexpected hug, Olivia resists the desire to pull away. He holds her tight, then tighter still once he realizes she's hugging him back just as fiercely.
It's only the second time in their partnership they've shared an embrace, but it's certainly been warranted more often.
"I'm so f-cking sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry you went through that, I'm sorry I wasn't there," he adds. "And I'm sorry I called you a hypocrite."
After a few minutes Olivia is the first to let go. He moves his hands to her face, swiping the tracks of her tears away with his thumbs. He's standing too close. It's too much, too intimate for them.
"I'm gonna…go take a shower," she excuses. "I feel like doin' that about thirty times a day now."
Elliot nods his understanding as he releases her. After hearing her turn on the water, he begins cleaning up. He takes the empty pizza box and used napkins to the trash. The beer bottles are tossed into the recycle bin and the crumbs from her coffee table are wiped away.
Kathy's trained him well.
Twenty minutes and the deaths of a few movie characters later, Olivia reappears fresh faced in pajamas with her hair still wet. The short do will take no time to dry so she barely bothers to blow dry it anymore.
"Nice pjs," Elliot comments. "Didn't know you were such a Pooh fan," he ribs, eyeing the yellow bear in the red t-shirt on her sleep top. "Cute," he adds, pointing to the same character adorning the bottoms.
"Tell anyone and die Stabler," she jabs back. "They're an old gift and I haven't exactly kept up on doing laundry," she explains, joining him on the sofa.
"Cross my heart," he says. "Your secret is safe with me."
Elliot holds her eyes so that she knows he's talking about the whole night and not just her choice of sleepwear.
"Thanks," Olivia tells him. "And for cleaning up too."
"No problem."
Forty-five minutes later the movie's drawing to a close.
"Are we gonna sleep all the way home?" Asks Newt.
"All the way home," repeats Ripley.
"Can I dream?" questions the blonde-haired little girl.
"Yes honey," answers her hero. "I think we both can."
When he looks down, Elliot finds his partner doing exactly that against his shoulder. In knowing how little sleep she's been getting, he doesn't have the heart to wake her. So, he lets her enjoy whatever rest she can and before long, joins her.
Throughout the night when she talks incoherently or gives a pained whimper, he soothes her with his voice. When she jolts awake, he comforts Olivia, putting his arm around her.
"You're safe Liv," he whispers in the dark of her living room. "I'm here."
Though she knows she should, she doesn't send Elliot home, bother asking why he's still there in the middle of the night or why he's holding her.
Olivia simply nods and takes solace in the fact that this time when Lowell Harris comes for her, she isn't alone.
The end.