A/N - This is set in a time when Elliot is still working at the SVU with Olivia, (maybe season 11-12) but in the beginning of my fic he has temporarily been transferred to another police department. E/O of course. Warning: this story has adult content (language, sexual assault) and is potentially upsetting. Much of the details are alluded to rather than directly recounted, but even so the insinuation is pretty obvious.

1

She stared horrified at her Captain as she fully took in what he was telling her. The official report had just come in from the coroner's office. Melanie Carrey had committed suicide. And it was all her fault. The guilt was immeasurable. It was like someone had reached inside and ripped her guts out. She felt completely numb to every sensation except the horror of what she had done, or rather not done. She couldn't remember ever fucking up a case as badly as this one. This was it. Her career was over. There was no way she could get over this. She was supposed to be helping victims, not driving them to suicide. What had happened to her? How had she allowed herself to sink this low?

"Take the rest of the day of Olivia," she heard him say. It was predictable. Any hint of emotion in the office and they were sent home to gather themselves, expected to return in a few days with their feelings in check, buried neatly away so they were ready to face the next sickening case with a semblance of professionalism. It was all shit. She had spent the better half of her career in this unit and for what? A fucked up personal life, a depressing job and ultimately she had failed an innocent child who had deserved so much better. It was reprehensible.

Dazed, she stumbled out of Cragen's office and instinctively headed to her locker to grab her keys and bag. She could feel the gaze of every single member of the team on her but she kept her head down, refusing to risk meeting anyone in the eye. They would all find out soon enough the full extent of what she had done, that was if they didn't know already. She saw Fin out of the corner of her eye making as if to head towards her and she quickened her pace. She was in no mood to talk to anyone, not even him. She just needed to get out of there and quickly. The air was stifling. She reached up to pull her shirt away from her neck a little, suddenly aware that she was probably breathing way too fast. She took a long deep breath. She needed to get a grip.

Outside the cool November air immediately hit her but she didn't bother with her coat. What made her think she deserved the comfort of warm clothing when that poor girl was lying on the cold metal slab in Melinda's lab?

"Oh God," she groaned desperately, her hand covering her face. This was a nightmare. How could this have happened? She wished and not for the first time that Elliot was here. This never would have happened if she had been on her game, but his temporary reassignment had completely thrown her for six. It was never the same when they were separated. She was completely out of her comfort zone and it had obviously made her sloppy.

She wondered what Elliot would say when he heard about this latest fiasco. He'd always told her the truth as he saw it. He would no doubt lay it on the table and tell her exactly what he thought of her actions or inactions, but instead of shying away from the idea she relished the thought. She deserved all she got. Accepting a few harsh words from her partner was nothing compared to what fate had met that poor child. She wasn't the one laying on that table. It should have been her. The sudden thought scared her. She wasn't seriously suicidal, but she had to acknowledge that if her death could have saved the girl, she would gladly go back and give her life.

It was a ridiculous idea though. The child was dead. It was her fault and there was no way she could face another day in that unit after this. It hit her hard then and she knew it wasn't just a whim. She was deadly serious. She decided she would turn in her papers as soon as she could.

Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own, for she found herself wandering into a dive of a bar about halfway between her apartment and the precinct. It was barely four in the afternoon and unsurprisingly there was no one else in there, not even any staff by the looks of it. Perhaps it was shut, she thought.

"Hello?" she called, on the verge of leaving.

However, a man of medium-build with a crop of dark brown curly hair immediately appeared from what she guessed must be a stock room or something and grinned at her welcomingly.

"We don't open til five," he informed her.

"Great," she mumbled. "Sorry to disturb you." She couldn't help but notice that this guy had an odd shape to his left ear, but out of politeness, she tried not to stare.

"It's a birth defect," he said cheerfully, seemingly used to the attention his ear drew.

"I'm sorry," she said, blushing slightly.

"Hey, it's fine. Say, you look like you're in need of a drink. Come, sit down. As long as you don't mind me scurrying about getting things ready, then you're welcome to have a drink."

"Are you sure?" she asked not wanting to inconvenience the guy, who was obviously preparing the bar for the night ahead.

"Beer?" he offered.

"Sure," she agreed. She usually preferred a glass of wine, but what the hell. It wasn't every day your career, in fact your life, went down the toilet.

She watched him as he popped the cap on a bottle of some import beer she didn't recognise and plopped it down in front of her with a small glass. She decided she liked his attire. He was simply dressed, but his shirt fell open just enough to let her know he obviously worked out in his free time.

"Thanks," she smiled. The place might be a dump, but this guy was obviously good-hearted and Olivia found herself warming to him instantly. There was something honest about his eyes and it made her want to trust him.

"So what has a pretty lady like you in such need for a drink at this time of the day?" he asked her curiously.

"Just the biggest fuck-up of my career," she sighed. She could almost laugh at herself. Here she was, spilling her guts to a stranger in a bar over a beer at four in the afternoon. This was definitely a first.

"It's probably not as bad as you think, you know," he ventured.

"Oh it is," she said decisively. The guy was only trying to console her, but he obviously didn't have an inkling of just how serious her situation was.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked.

"Probably get drunk," she replied flippantly, taking a long sip of her beer straight from the bottle while at the same time wincing at the sound of her own words. What was she thinking? How was getting drunk going to help? Melanie was dead. Nothing was going to make that go away.

"Look everyone fucks up at some point in their life," the bar owner offered in another amicable but futile attempt to cheer her up.

"Yeah, maybe, but not like this. Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. You've been really kind. I just think I need to go home and try and get my head round it all. It's been a really rough day."

"Sure. Look, the beer is on the house. There's just one condition: you come back some time, when you're feeling a bit better."

"Sure," she agreed with a smile, while at the same time very much doubting she actually would follow through on her promise and suspecting this guy knew that very well. She got to her feet and headed to the door.

"Thanks," she called out again.

"Hey, what's your name?" he called out.

"Olivia," she replied, with a smile.

"I'm Lawrence. It was great to meet you, Olivia. Come back soon OK!"

"OK," she replied before slipping back outside onto the street. What a surreal experience she thought. It was strange coming out of a bar into broad daylight.

By the time she reached her apartment building she had made her decision. She needed to see Elliot. She told herself it was because she needed to talk to someone who understood the job, but at the back of her mind was the sad truth that she had no one else in her life but him to talk to anyway.

Changing direction and heading east she flagged down the first cab she saw and clambered inside. It wasn't without some trepidation. No doubt Kathy wouldn't be overly impressed to see her banging on his door considering they weren't even technically partners at the moment, but she would get over it. She had to see him and surely talking to Elliot had to beat getting drunk in a dive bar. Besides she felt she owed him an explanation in person as to why she was turning in her papers and abandoning their partnership. No time like the present, right?