A classic 'What-If' fanfiction by ChunkyBlackGlasses

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit

Flashbacks were less common now, thanks to the therapy sessions. She would never admit it out loud, but having a so called "safe place" helped her well-being tremendously. There was no stress to keep conversations from straying too close to home, no furtive glances from Finn every time that undercover mission was mentioned, or when a case seemed similar in many aspects.

Still, even if she was assured that her "safe place" would always be there, Olivia Benson could never find a way to let go of her fear. A hand, closing around her neck, would produce a fit of rage and terror. If someone grabbed her wrists, they could soon be the proud owner of broken fingers. Luckily, no one but Finn noticed these moments when her eyes glazed over, like her brain had gone on a little vacation and left her body to do the work.

"Olivia."

The squad room was unusually quiet, a god-send for the detectives. There was hardly a day when something didn't go wrong that needed their fixing. Unfortunately, some things they weren't able to fix.

A couple weeks previous, Benson and Stabler were called to go scope out an apartment building for domestic violence issues. The landlord had heard what he called an 'awful rucus' while he was checking vending machines. There had also been complaints from the people who lived on the same floor, they talked of people keeping bizarre hours and arguing late into the night and early morning. Luckily for the duo, they arrived just in time. The couple renting apartment 12D had decided to finally end their relationship after many weeks of fighting over trival things. Normal people would just gather up their stuff and leave, but, as the world is not full of normal, or even sane people, this was not the case.

"NYPD!" Typical battle cry for the detectives, standing on either side of the door, listening for movement. The air was pierced by a scream - distinctly female. Elliot rammed the door, bursting through the apartment. It was a nice place; pleasant paintings, chess set, what looked like a nice pasta dinner cooking on the stove. All except the scene unfolding on the patio.

A severely strung-out looking young man stood leaning against the railing of his 12th-story apartment balcony, trying to pry his girlfriends legs from around the bars so that she would drop to the ground below.

"Careful now..." Olivia inched forward as Elliot made an attempt to calm the guy down, coming in from the side.

"Will? Will, let's let go of your girlfriend and take a step back, I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

Shaking her head, Olivia looked up at her partner, detective Elliot Stabler. They'd been working together for nearly forever now, and it showed.

"Telephone." He held out the reciever to her own phone with a small smile playing around his lips. He mistook her memories for daydreams and was amused when she leaned back into her chair the way she did, unfocused and fuzzy.

She cleared her throat and took the reciever, tucking it under her chin and she pulled up to her desk to organize files.

"Hello?" Not her usual work greeting, she rubbed her forehead with the heel of her palm.

"Detective Benson? It's Winona..." The pause was meant for Olivia to say something, an excited greeting perhaps. Instead there was a steady silence except for the rustle of paper.

"The girl from the apartment building..."

"Yes, I know."

"Well, I just wanted to say...well, thanks. Will wasn't a great guy, I shoulda realized that before he tried to throw me off the building, but thanks for saving me. And I'm gonna try that...therapy group you mentioned."

"Alright, nice talking to you." Olivia hurridly put the phone down, looking at it for a moment before shaking her head.

She could see Elliot looking at her from across the room, and raised a brow.
"What? I can't have a little phone call once in a while?" She questioned, folding her arms across her chest in a very I'm-Olivia-Benson-whatcha-gonna-do-bout-it sort of way. Elliot shrugged, raising an eye of his own.

" 'Little' phone call is an understatment, that was what...ten seconds of conversation?"

Olivia rolled her eyes and made like she was focusing intently on the papers on her desk, and Stabler walked off to talk to Cragen.

The grey walls were always there. Never any other color. The solid, repressive grey. She had gotten used to it, as much as anyone could. She was an SVU detective, for godsake, she dealt with death and everything that went with it on a nearly daily basis, in the city that never sleeps. Some grey walls would have to try harder to get her down.

They got the hint. So did Harris. The feel of the cold, grey wall against her cheek, his heavy breathing on the back of her neck. She screamed, again and again, calling for help. She couldn't let him do this, she couldn't let herself let him. He was oddly purswasize.

"Bite me and your dead." Rape or live, rape or live, rape or live.

Only Finn knew what had happened to her, and even he didn't know all of it. Though their bond was stronger than ever, Olivia couldn't bring herself to tell him, or anyone, what happened. Her deepest, darkest secret was her weakness.

The darkness that surrounded her startled the detective, not remembering quite how she had gotten home. Or what time it was. Or how she had managed to change into pajamas and get into bed. A sigh escaped her lips as she lay her head back down on her pillow. It was the slow days that were the worst. Nothing to disract her, to keep her mind busy. It wasn't like that anywhere else but in the squad room, where she was surrounded by pictures and files of victims, whose pain she now knew the extent of.

Rough-and-tumble no bull Olivia Benson was more than sexually assaulted in that corrections facility basement, among the cobwebs and broken dreams. The file didn't say it, but it was true. She was raped.

And unbeknownst to her, Harris knew people at Rikers. He could pull strings and 'act the good guy', be the poor, misunderstood man who just wanted to show the world his sorrow. To make his righting his wrongs. Hardly a year after the initial incident, he would be walking free. It was improbable, impossible, and yet he was able to do it.

He set his sights on New York City, ready to finish what he started. He went looking for the one girl that got away, Olivia Benson.

End Chapter One

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Edit: Oh crap. Someone just told me they read something along the lines of this.
I swear this is all my own, I just got done watching a marathon of my own of SVU and thought "What if?"