A/N: So after watching Undercover, I just had to write this. I know that TPTB can't seem to grasp the concept of continuity, but that doesn't mean us fans can't, eh? As many of you are, I'm curious see if (and hopefully, how) Liv will deal with the entire situation. Here's just one scenario which played out in my shipper mind, mostly from Elliot's perspective. Comments are much appreciated, just no flaming, please; constructive criticism is a powerful thing. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did, they'd be together already. I'm just a poor, teenage girl who writes for thrills.

He'd watched her silently unravel before his very eyes, unable to do a thing to help her. It wasn't that he didn't want to, because God, he'd never wanted anything more in his life; to just be there for her, catch her when she fell and help her to her feet, like she had done so many times for him. It had taken him until now to realize that. It had taken him until the time she needed him the most until he realized just how many times he'd fallen himself, and how many times she'd picked him back up.

The only thing was, she had already fallen, and he wasn't there to catch her.

"But I'll be damned if I'm not there to raise her up."

He had read Fin's report and knew very well what Harris' intentions were with her in that basement. That's why he objected to her interrogating the bastard, and that's why she had snapped at him to go to hell in that tone which he seemed to be hearing more often. That's why when the bastard'slawyer said he was free to go and he saw her from behind that mirror, trying her best to conceal the quivers, he came dangerously close to intercepting the bastard and feeding him what he couldn't seem to control.

But she wasn't going to let him in. The classic sign of a victim, which scared him even more. He hadn't read her report yet and Fin's contained a lapse between the time Harris had grabbed her until the time Fin had found her; a lapse that occurred in that basement, between her and that bastard, and only she had the details.

He'd asked her if she was fine, and of course, in the traditional Olivia Benson way, she had told him she was. He didn't buy it, but he accepted it, because what else could he do? He couldn't force her to tell him the truth and he was sure that even she hadn't processed it herself. She needed time to figure her feelings out before she could begin to explain them, but how much time? How much time before the feelings overwhelmed her and changed her into someone else, like they had seen so many others do before her?

"I won't let that happen. There's no way in hell I'll let that happen. Not to her."

That's why he stood in front of her door, his eyes on the floor. He had gotten someone else in her building to let him in because he knew she wouldn't want to have anything to do with him, and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. Even if she wasn't ready to talk, he'd make damn sure she knew he was.

He knocked three times, then heard her slowly drag herself over to the door and he already knew what she had been doing; sitting on her couch, indulging in a bottle of scotch and wallowing in her own self-pity.

The door opened and he was met by a figure that he had never seen before in the nine years that he had known her. This person was not Olivia Benson, but a shadow of the woman he knew so well. Olivia Benson had never looked so defeated.

"Elliot."

It wasn't a question, but a statement. She was acknowledging that he was there, not asking him why or telling him to leave, like she normally did when she was upset. It was like she had given up on fighting with him, and as much as he thought he would love the moment when she finally accepted that he would always be there, this was never how he imagined it to be. He wanted her to give into him, not herself and definitely not some fucked-up, son-of-a-bitch.

"Liv," he replied, not knowing quite where to go from there.

It was funny. He had spent ten minutes standing in front of her door, trying to figure out how he was going to knock on it, but he had never once thought of what he was going to say if she answered.

She opened the door wider, allowing him to enter and his suspicions were confirmed; a half-empty bottle of whisky lay on the coffee table, with an empty glass next to it. He gently closed the door behind him but didn't step any further into her apartment, remaining only a step in front of her door. She continued walking, placing a good few feet between them before she turned to face him again, her arms crossed and blank look on her face.

"I was just… on my way back from the precinct," he lied, "And I thought that maybe… we could just talk. We haven't talked in such a long time--"

"Elliot, don't," she interrupted, locking her leg into position. Apparently, she still had some fight left in her, and that gave him hope. "I know what you're doing, so stop. I told you I'm fine, and I don't need you to coddle me."

"I'm not coddling you, Olivia," he said more sternly, taking a few steps closer and shortening the gap between them. He saw her shift and he knew she was uncomfortable, so he stopped before getting too close; the last thing he wanted to do was violate her space. Harris had already done that. "I… I just want to talk. When is the last time the two of us have just sat down and talked as friends?"

"I wouldn't know. Every time I ask, you seem to have diaper duty or rage issues."

Her voice was thick and her words stung; her last defense against him. His mood immediately changed from sympathetic to angry, even though he promised himself he wouldn't let this conversation turn into another fight, "Wait a second, Liv. What is this about?"

"It's about you, just like it always is!"

She took him by surprise and he looked into her eyes for the first time in what seemed like months. They were glistening with unshed tears, yet at the same time, there was no one there looking back at him.

"You come to me, trying to act like my knight in shining armor, only it's not me you're trying to save… it's yourself!"

Her words cut deep, and he grew silent. It may not have been how he wanted to have this talk, but he had the feeling that if he continued to push, he'd get the answer he was looking for.

"You don't care how I am, you care how you are! You feel guilty about what happened, and so you've come to me for closure, just like you always do!" she screamed, her clenched eyelids failing her and tears spilling down her flushed cheeks.

"Liv," he said, baffled, "I don't even know what happened! That's why I'm here! How can I help you if you won't let me?"

"You didn't come to help me, you came so people can say, "That's Elliot Stabler. Isn't he a saint? He spends his life helping rape victims and when his fucked-up partner nearly became one, he was there to pick up the pieces and put her back together again. What a great guy." But do you know what, Elliot? You weren't there! I was there and I was looking, but I couldn't see you! And when I was hiding and I could hear him coming for me, I kept telling myself that you'd come bursting in any second… only you didn't! Where were you, Elliot? Where were you!"

She finished her rant, breathless, the floor damp in the spots where her tears had fallen. Never in nine years had she ever purposely tried to hurt him. She was always the one defending his actions, justifying them, and now, the truth came out. Her voice had cracked and she sobbed in front of him, her eyes wide and looking to him for answers. Answers which he didn't have. There was a lump in his throat which was impossible to swallow without choking. So that's what this was about. Just as he thought.

It was something he had seen people do many times before. Both of them had seen it, in their line of work, but it shocked him that she didn't recognize what she was doing. Then again, how could she? She was attempting to change the subject; cause him pain so everyone would forget about her own.

The room was silent, until he finally broke it with his voice. "You can't honestly believe that, can you?"

"Why not?" she said in the form of a sad, defeated laugh, "It's the truth, isn't it?"

He was staring at the floor, at the accumulation of tears in front of her feet. She had never been so open with him before. It was funny, what it took for two people, who's entire lives revolved around revealing the truth, to do so with each other. They had fought many times, but he had never seen her tears. Now, she struggled to hold them back, her breaths shallow and rapid. He looked back into her eyes which reflected hurt and betrayal and took a few more steps closer, watching her slowly peddle backwards until the back of her knees hit the arm of the couch, leaving her with nowhere to run as he closed the distance between them until they were only a body-width apart.

"Maybe it is. Maybe I did come to you for some sense of closure. But it's not because I don't care about you Olivia, believe me, that's definitely not the case..."

His voice was low, barely above a whisper and she narrowed her eyes, inspecting him as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. She was taking in the meaning of his words, wondering what he was trying to tell her. Hell, he didn't even know what he was trying to say. He had come here to get the truth from her, to be there for her so she wouldn't feel all alone, but he knew he wouldn't leave here the same man.

"I came to you for closure because you're the only one who can give it to me. At the end of the day… knowing you're all right is the only thing that can help me sleep at night, because without you…"

He stepped closer, closing the distance between them until a mere few inches separated them. Her head was down, refusing to look into his eyes and as he struggled to find his words, he grabbed her by the chin, tilting her head up to face him. Suddenly, while staring into her tawny depths, he found his words.

"I'm not a saint, but when I'm with you… I'm the closest to one that I'll ever be."

Not ready to hear it, she began to pound on his chest, only her punches weren't full of fire and fury like they usually were. No, she wasn't trying to hurt him… she was reaching out, so he grabbed her biceps, holding her in position as she struggled for a few seconds before finally giving up and sinking into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly in a hug like the two had never shared.

Sure, they had hugged before. When her and Kathy were in the car accident and the baby was born, he had hugged her, but that was different; she assumed it was a thank you, when it really was a thank God. He had hugged her so he knew she was real, because he needed to feel her to believe it. This time, it was her turn. She desperately needed someone, something to hold onto, so he stood there, sturdy and prepared, just like he promised himself he'd be for the rest of their days.

"Liv…," he mumbled into her hair, "You need to tell me. I wasn't there and believe me, I'll never forgive myself for that, but if I leave now… I won't be able to face you again, knowing that I let you go. And I couldn't live without being able to face you everyday."

He could feel his chest becoming damp with her tears, seeping through the baby blue fabric of his dress shirt and through his skin, reaching his heart. Her nails dug into his back but he didn't feel the pain. This is what he came here to do; to get her to reveal the truth, and reveal a truth of his own.

"I was her, Elliot," she whimpered into his chest, barely audible.

At first, he was confused. Who was she in that basement? They had dealt with many victims before… and then it hit him. For a moment, she was Serena Benson, and it terrified him as much as it did her, because Serena Benson now lay in a cemetery; the repercussions of not being able to deal with her attack.

"I was against the wall and I could feel him on me, around me… everywhere. I was her, and suddenly, it all made sense."

He propped his chin upon her head, stroking her hair for comfort and giving her the opportunity to finish before he started again. For the first time in what seemed like forever, they were finally being completely honest with each other, like they were at the beginning of their relationship.

Only this time, they both had much more to lose.

"Because if he had… and I had become…," she struggled to even say it, "There's not a chance I'd be able to even look at that baby without becoming nauseous, knowing what it represented."

"But he didn't," Elliot reinforced, silently relieved.

Sure, seeing Olivia like this nearly tore his heart right out of his chest, but at least Harris hadn't conquered her in the worst way possible. Even though she had spent her life encouraging rape victims to talk about their problems, Olivia would conceal it from everybody until it completely destroyed her. She was much too stubborn and much too ashamed; it would mean relinquishing the only control she had left and in her life, control was the most important thing. "He didn't and you're safe now, and Rissa and Ashley, as well as many other women, have justice. All because of you."

She didn't say a word, just silently nodded into his chest. It was painful to put themselves out in the open. However, at the same time, he felt more relieved than distressed, and he sighed, "Why can't you see, Olivia? Why can't you just how much better you make the world by being in it?"

She broke away, staring up into those piercing blue eyes once again; the all-seeing eyes, which she could never seem to hide from. They always had a way of bringing out the truth in her.

The look of confusion on her face was evident. He cupped it, stroking his thumb over her cheek and brushing away a tear, "You think you're some disease, when really you're the cure."

His thumb dropped to trace over her lips and she stood there, eyes wide in shock as if she couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth or the path his thumb was taking. "You're not the fucked-up one, Olivia. The world is. And despite that, despite everything we've seen, you still try your hardest to make it better. Despite knowing what it could have cost you, you went into Sealview anyway and you know what? You came out. You survived. And not only that, but you stopped a monster and spared God knows how many more women."

"I didn't do it to make the world better…," she mumbled, reaching up to wrap her hands around his wrist. She leaned into it, much like a cat did when it was feeling affectionate and begged for its owner to stroke it. "I did it because… I don't really know. Because it was the right thing to do? Because I don't know what else to do?"

He laughed, running a hand through her chestnut tresses, which had grown slightly longer now. Just a year ago, her hair was passed her shoulders and longer than he'd ever seen it on her, and he loved it. Of course, she looked good no matter how long or short her hair was, but he always like longer hair… because it allowed for him to run his hands through it, like he was doing now.

"You do it because you're a good person. That's why."

It was quiet again, the two of them just looking into each others eyes and accepting the revelation that had just unfolded.

She was there. He was there. And that was never going to change.

"Elliot?" she asked, gently placing his wrist back down by his side. He was fascinated that she even let him touch her. He never thought he'd see the day when Olivia Benson allowed herself to be comforted by another man, let alone him.

"Hm?" he cooed, cocking his head to the side and wondering what she had to say.

She looked into his eyes, then back toward the ground again, as if she were trying to escape him. He frowned and caught her chin for the second time that night, "Stop hiding. You don't need to hide from me."

She offered him a small smile, finally finding her words, "I know Kathy's probably expecting you home…"

The mention of his wife's name made him frown again. He loved Kathy and he always would, but he couldn't help but feel he was lying to her and himself. It had been over for a long time between them, though neither wanted to admit it. The only thing that bound him to her now was responsibility.

"But… could you stay with me tonight?"

Her words caught him off guard and he mentally fell over, unsure of how to answer that. He wanted to comfort her, but she was also very vulnerable so he was hesitant. He didn't want to do anything they'd both soon regret.

"I'm not asking for anything," she added, sensing his uneasiness, "Just… I don't want to be alone tonight. I'm so tired of being alone…"

He nodded in understanding. He trusted her. He had to, because when it came to her, he couldn't trust himself.

She grabbed him by the hand, leading him to her bedroom. The bed was untouched and he knew she hadn't slept in it since Harris had attacked her.

"I haven't been able to look at a bed the same way. The second I saw that mattress, I knew what he was going to do to me…," she explained silently and ashamed.

Elliot led her the rest of the way, peeling the crisp covers back and crawling in, moving over to make room for her. She just looked at him, a crooked smile on her face as she wiped the final tear away before crawling in next to him.

The sheets were cold and he felt her shiver, the frigidness creeping up her unguarded arms and causing goose bumps to form. Whether it was from the temperature, or the vivid memories of her close encounter which flashed in her head when she closed her eyes, he was unsure, but he did the only thing he knew how to do to help her. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling his body closer to hers until they were spooning. He rested his head in the crook of her neck and reached his arm around, to intertwine his fingers with hers.

It was funny, how the most beautiful things in this world stemmed from such ugly ones. If there was ever any proof of that, it was Olivia Benson and everything she did.

"Go to sleep, Liv," he whispered in her ear.

Her trembling stop, her breathing regulated and his heart grew just a little bit larger.

"I'll be here in the morning."