Disclaimer: I wish I owned L&O, but alas, it belongs to Mr Wolf, and NBC, and once again, THE MAN.

A/N - Okay, I really REALLY should not be starting a new story, but this one kept eating at me and eating at me until I was forced to lay it all out. I'm still working on my other stories, but I have ADD so they lose my attention at moments, then I go back to them and... just... yeah, I'm trying okay! Get off my back! I know where I'm going with this, and hopefully you'll like it, and it's something different. It's Liv-centric, but there will be some undertones of EO for those who love it as much as I do. Reviews are mandatory. I WILL hunt you down lurkers! Okay, I won't, but leave reviews anyway, just because it would be fetch. ~Grey

Lies My Mother Told Me

Prologue

Olivia Benson learned at the tender age of twelve that she was the product of her mother's rape. Her mother informed her of the fact on her twelfth birthday. Where as most parents would have sat their child down before bestowing a devastating blow as such, Olivia was not that lucky. There were no hugs and tears. No 'But it doesn't matter, because I love you anyway.' No promises that her future would be brighter than her mother's own had been. It wasn't an episode of Full House, where the sappy music began to play as Danny explained to DJ why life wasn't always perfect. It was hard, it was cold, and it caused little Olivia much more grief than a young girl should know.

Most little girls got to enjoy their birthdays. There were parties, birthday cakes. Birthday hugs and kisses from loving parents. A special birthday outfit maybe. A day to celebrate another wonderful year of life passing. But some little girls don't get to experience those things, one in particular.

Twelve year old Olivia Benson spent the evening of her birthday huddled in the corner of the family room in the small apartment she shared with her mother. Her thin arms were trying but failing to block the blows her not so loving mother rained down upon her, one after another.

"Mom! Please! Mom, please stop!" But her cries were ignored, as her mother continued to attack her in a drunken rage. She couldn't even remember what she had done to set the woman off. But Serena continued her unwarranted assault on her only child, stopping finally when she tired herself out.

Stumbling back towards to couch, Serena Benson snatched up the half empty bottle of vodka she's been enjoying only moments before. She flopped down onto the couch mumbling incoherently to herself, as her daughter sat sobbing in the corner trying to collect herself.

"Pathetic!" She sneered at young Olivia, tauntingly. "That's right. Sit there in the corner, crying like a little fucking baby!"

She took another swig of the alcohol before continuing her verbal assault, until finally Olivia lifted her head from her knees, looking at her mother's face for the first time since the first blow struck her left cheek, that had already turned purple.

"Why?" It's the only thing she could muster the energy to say, and even though it came out as a barely strangled whisper, the question was powerful and obvious enough to get her an answer.

"Why?" Serena sneered. "Why do I hate you Olivia?" Olivia flinched at the word 'hate' as her eyes filled with fresh tears. She knew she made her mother angry, though she never meant to. Sometimes her mother didn't seem to like her. But hate her? She never thought Serena hated her.

"Yes, little one." Serena grinned in pleasure at the look on her daughter's face. "I hate you. I hate everything about you, you little shit! So, why, you want to know? You remind me of him! Every time I look at you, I see him."

Tears streamed down Olivia's face, but she didn't speak a word. She was afraid if she spoke, if she made a sound, it would set her mother off once again. It wasn't a beating she was worried about though. She'd dealt with her share of them, and the physical pain always faded. She was more afraid that her mother would stop talking. Wouldn't answer the questions she so desperately needed answered, so she kept silent.

"Your father." she spat the word out, as if she could actually taste it. "You want to know why he isn't here? Why he didn't want you? He raped me! He was a sick evil son of a bitch, and he took away my innocence and left me with you! And I see it inside of you. You pretend to be so innocent, but I see his demons lurking behind your eyes."

"You're just like him. You are him. Everything you know, everything you ever touch will wither and die. No one will ever love you. Your life will be nothing but failure, because you have evil running through your veins."

So throughout her childhood, Olivia Benson went through life feeling as if she was never good enough. She held back from living, really living, because she believed her mother's words to be true. She was the product of something evil. Little did she know, it was just one of the many lies her mother told her.

Chapter One

Children On Their Birthdays

Twenty years ago to the day, Olivia Benson found out she was the product of rape. Her childhood had already begun to shape her at that point, but that day itself changed the course of her life forever.

Sitting at her desk at the precinct, she was filling out some paperwork that was supposed to be finished days ago. Due to the caseload they'd had, she was just getting around to it. It was a slow day, and she hated it more than usual. Not that she ever loved desk work, but today she would have preferred to anywhere but where she was. She didn't want anyone to bring up the fact that it was her birthday. Every year, she tried to ignore the day and every year someone got it in their head that she needed to get out and celebrate it. The fucking day that was the bane of her existence.

Throughout the years, Elliot finally began to respect her wishes to not make a big deal of the day. He never pushed her to elaborate, but he knew her birthday 'issues' were more than a woman's problems with growing older. They usually had a drink or dinner without mention of the occasion and she liked it just fine. But none of this could be said for anyone else in her life. Someone always brought it up when the dreaded day made itself known. This year, Munch was the first.

"So, Liv. Any special plans tonight?"

Elliot looked up from his own paperwork catching Olivia's eye, before putting his head back down pretending he didn't hear anything. Sighing inwardly, Olivia decided to play dumb.

"No. Why would have special plans, John?"

She refused to look at him, hoping he'd take the hint and drop it. No such luck. The older man just chuckled before continuing.

"Come on Liv. This year we are celebrating your birthday. Break that stereotypical mold you women create by thinking it's a mortal sin to grow old. You know, it's the government that-" This time she sighed out loud.

"John, look-" she began, but for once luck was on her side, as Cragen chose that moment to step out of his office before the detective could continue. The only thing that could have been worse than him insisting on celebrating her birthday, was if he centered his reasoning around some conspiracy theory.

"Benson! Stabler! 90 West Franklin. Homicide, suspected rape." Throwing Munch a sarcastically sympathetic smile, Olivia stood to follow Elliot out of the precinct nearly skipping as Munch called after her.

"Don't think you're off the hook Benson!"

Minutes later as they drove towards the scene, she caught Elliot watching her from the corner of his eye as he drove.

"Spit it out, and keep your eyes on the road Stabler." she growled, smirking playfully, but not turning to look at him. There was a beat before he spoke.

"Why do you hate your birthday Liv?" He shot her another not so discreet look from the corner of his eye as he waited for her to tell him she didn't want to talk about it, but she surprised him.

Sighing, she decided to come clean to Elliot. After all, he'd been the first to know about the situation with her mother, so it wasn't really that big a deal and probably wouldn't even be much of a shock. She just hated that it was one more thing that made her seem weak.

"My twelfth birthday was the day that I found out," she stated in a monotone voice staring straight ahead. Stopping at a red light, Elliot finally turned to her in confusion. She faced him with another sigh.

"About my father. I guess my Mom thought it was a suitable gift, though I wish she'd kept the receipt," she laughed humorlessly. At the look of pain that flashed behind her eyes, Elliot wanted to stop the car right there and pull her into a hug, but he knew she wouldn't like it. She'd probably clock him.

Instead he settled for reaching across the seat to squeeze her hand. He was pleasantly surprised when she didn't pull away. Appreciating the fact that he didn't comment, she squeezed back affectionately. Elliot never made her feel weak.

A/N - So, chapter one isn't much action wise, but it's sort of setting the scene for the rest of the story. Whatcha' think?