Author's note: A rewrite and expansion of the 15th season premiere and beyond, if things had gone a little differently. Stays canon for a while, then veers off rather abruptly. Please heed the rating.
1.
Olivia Benson's apartment building was nearly silent when she entered, the only noises from the muffled traffic outside. The television from apartment 4C was already shut off for the night, which Olivia always took as a sign that she was truly late. Coming home to total silence was getting depressingly common again, almost the way it was in her early years as a detective, when she took enough paid and unpaid overtime that she barely remembered what her home looked like. Ten years ago, she wouldn't have minded. Nowadays, she wondered if she still had the energy or idealism for it.
The apartment was cold when she entered, a late May wind rattling her windows slightly. She set her bags down on the kitchen counter, along with a thick sheaf of papers, the sum total of all law enforcement knew about William Lewis. It was absurd, to know this much about a person and still have them escape scot-free, to have them wriggle through the cracks due to a combination of ingenuity and sheer dumb luck.
She'd taken the file meaning to review it at home, in some passive aggressive protest of Cragen telling her to relax, but now she thought she'd just take a shower and go to bed. She'd look over it tomorrow, knowing if she started tonight, she wouldn't be able to sleep. Maybe with a clear mind she'd be able to find something they could use. Or maybe she'd just be wasting her time. She never knew anymore.
A noise like a sigh jolted her out of her thoughts, and she glanced into the darkness of her apartment. She tried to think if she hadn't made plans with Brian and simply been too distracted to remember. She didn't think so, but it wouldn't have been the first time.
"Hello?" she called, already half forming an apology in her head.
Before she could blink, William Lewis himself stepped out of the shadows, gun cocked and pointing at her head.
"Welcome home, Detective Benson," he said, with a smile like a cat that's cornered a mouse.
She froze for a crucial moment, mind stuttering in panic, as he stepped forward, brushing the gun across her throat like a caress. As she stared at him, he grabbed her arm and spun her around, pushing her further into the apartment.
"You seemed so interested in what happened to poor Ms. Parker," he whispered, breath tickling her ear. The cold barrel of the gun pressed into the back of her neck. "I thought it was only right to find you and discuss it further."
He stopped suddenly, and threw her to the ground. The burst of pain cleared her mind, and strangely enough, reduced her panic. He may have gotten the drop on her this once, but he was still just a perp, and she had dealt with hundreds of them already. Most of them were in jail or dead, and she was still here. Lewis was a bump in the road, was all, and she pushed herself to a sitting position and faced him with new defiance.
He didn't waste any time. "Take off your clothes," he said, still smiling.
Olivia didn't move. She knew he wasn't going to shoot her unless he felt threatened. That would take away his fun.
His smile faded. "Do what I say, detective."
She didn't blink. "Or what?"
His face darkened in rage, and he moved towards her, still pointing the gun at her head. She waited until he was close and then lunged for the weapon, her fingers scrabbling at his hands. With a burst of adrenaline, she yanked it out of his grip, but it fell to the ground with a clatter, sliding several feet. She whirled around and reached out her hand for it, but Lewis yanked her back by the hair and she let out a yelp. Instinctively, she kicked his knee and he released her with a growl of pain. She lunged towards the gun again, her fingers brushing the plastic of the grip, but Lewis stomped on her fingers and kicked it under the couch.
She hissed in pain but managed to stumble away before he could hit her again. She stood, nursing her bruised fingers, and they stared at each other, at a momentary impasse. They were both weaponless now, but was that was small comfort. He was well-muscled from years of manual labor, and practiced in subduing victims. She wasn't sure she could take him in a fair fight. His gun was inaccessible, hers was on the kitchen counter, and to get to it, she'd have to get past him.
She looked him in the eye and held up her hands slightly in a disarming gesture, trying to subtly edge past him.
"Let's talk about this. It doesn't have to be this way."
"Oh, I think it does."
He lunged for her again, but she was ready this time, dancing back out of his reach, then bolting past him, eyes intent on her gun. But he managed to catch a handful of her hair as she passed, pulling her back again, and she let out a cry of pain and frustration, her fingernails clawing at his arms.
Lewis threw her to the ground and kicked her hard in the stomach, again and again, and she fell to the side and curled up against the pain, trying to shield herself from the blows.
Lewis took the opportunity to pin her to the ground, facedown, one hand gripping her wrists, his knees on her legs.
"This could have been easy or hard, sweetheart," he said softly. "And you just chose hard."
The clink of metal behind her sent a chill down her spine, and she could hear the smile in Lewis's voice as he spoke. "I took a look around in your room while I was waiting. Came across these. Tell me, detective, are these work-issue? Or... recreational?"
Olivia felt the cold bite of handcuffs around her wrists and she cursed herself. He hadn't had a gun on her for several minutes now, and she hadn't even called for help. She tried to make up for it by giving the most earsplitting scream she could manage, tinged with genuine terror. The last time she had felt metal around her wrists, things had gone very badly indeed, and she refused to let herself think of what might happen now.
Lewis reacted instantaneously, flipping her over and pressing his hand against her throat hard enough to cut off her oxygen.
"Shut up," he hissed, as she tried to gasp for air. He didn't remove his hand, and she began to thrash beneath him in earnest, trying to buck him off as her body reacted to the oxygen deprivation with animalistic panic. Lewis watched her struggle, unyielding, smiling his boyish smile.
Her vision was going dark around the edges. She had time to wonder whether she'd misjudged his unwillingness to kill her, before everything went black.