A/N: Probably a bit mushy, but I kind of like it anyway. First time writing fic in what feels like forever (first semester of college, I'm starin' at you with an accusatory look on my face).
When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am - The Goo Goo Dolls, "Iris"
In spite of the late hour, Olivia sat at her desk, intently working on something. She was so caught up in her work that she failed to notice her partner enter the squad room.
"Hey," Elliot said.
She turned around, startled, "Oh. Hi, El."
"Wacha doing?"
"Finishing up the report for the Karlow case."
"At this hour?"
Olivia shrugged, "Why not? What are you doing here, anyway?"
"Couldn't sleep, and then I realized I'd left my wallet here, so I figured I'd come down. And…I saw your car parked outside."
"Stalker," she gave him a quick half-grin before doing back to the papers that sat in front of her. Elliot was happy, glad to see her finally smile again. It seemed as if his comment has broken through the sorrowful wall that she had built up around herself as of late.
"Hey Liv, that can really wait till morning. Grab a cup of coffee with me?"
"Nah, I'm good."
"Livia, you're going to work yourself to death."
"Would that be such a bad thing?" she asked shortly.
"Liv."
She sighed, "I'm sorry. I just want to finish this is all."
He took the plunge and decided to try to get at what had been bothering her, "But it's more than that."
"What?"
"You haven't been yourself lately. Something's bothering you."
"I'm just…tired, is all," she replied lamely.
He gave her a look.
She stared right back at him. They were both incredibly stubborn, a characteristic that was really showing at the moment.
"I worry about you. You're my partner," he said, "Four years and counting, Liv."
She was suddenly unable to meet his eyes.
"I know," she said softly, her voice breaking.
It was a paradoxical feeling, really. She wanted to tell him, with all of her heart. They'd only been partners for four years, but she couldn't help but feel she'd known him her whole life. She hated that he didn't know. It was a part of who she was, and it almost felt as if not telling him was lying to him. After all, Cragen knew. It was her reason for wanting to work with SVU in the first place. But on the other hand, there was another part of her that wanted to run away, far and quickly, before telling him. It was awful, really. What would he think of her if he knew?
"Hey," he said, kneeling next to her, "What can I do?"
That was Elliot. So very much Elliot. Always trying to be a knight in shining armor, always trying to save her. He couldn't save her from this, this existence of hers. He couldn't save her mother from the man who raped her. He was just as helpless as she was.
"Let's talk, but not here."
"I don't know how to say this," she said as they sat on the steps that led into the precinct, the night sky looking down on them, "The only way that comes to mind is just blurting it out, but that hardly seems appropriate."
"Tact has never been my forte, so I would have no place judging how you tell me whatever it is that you're going to tell me. Just say it," Elliot advised.
She wanted to ask him to promise not to view her differently, not to see her as if she was some kind of mistake, but she knew that wasn't fair to him. She couldn't ask him to make a promised based upon things he didn't know.
"My mother was raped," the words hung in the air, large, until she spoke again a few seconds later, "And the result of that rape was me."
"Liv –"
"Oh god, El," she said, crying hard now, "Please don't, don't…"
"Don't what?"
"Hate me, because of this, because of who I am. Because sometimes I hate me, this, and if you did too…"
He pulled her into his arms, rubbing circles on the small of her back.
"…I don't know if I could bear it," she finished.
"Livia, this doesn't make me hate you. No. I mean, look at you. You've taken something terrible and have been inspired by it to help other people – I'm assuming this has something to do with why you're in SVU?"
"Yeah," she replied, drying her eyes, "It has everything to do with it. If I can, I want to prevent others from going through this, through what my mother went through. And sometimes, when it gets bad, when I can't stand that it makes up such a central part of my identity, I throw myself into our work. It helps me deal with it, knowing that I can make a difference."
He nodded.
"Thank you for telling me," he said, voice rough.
"I would have told you sooner. I just – like I said earlier, and it was unrealistic, but the thought of you seeing me as some sort of awful mistake was just – I couldn't deal with it."
"You are the furthest thing from an awful mistake, Liv. Truly."
And as he said those words, she felt relief engulf her. Not so much due to what he had just said, but because he now knew. She had always wanted him to know who she was.
