So who didn't love the scene when Elliot talked with Dr. Hendricks? Best part of the episode. This chapter is what was going through his mind durring his session with her. Enjoy.

His words were foreign to him, as he went over what had happened with his shrink. He never liked therapy, but this was something he had to do. Even as the words were falling from his lips he couldn't bring himself to speak about what had just happened between him and Olivia a mere fifteen minutes ago.

He still couldn't believe what he had done; any of it. Although he had every reason to, he couldn't believe how he attacked his old partner . . . And his current one.

"His son", he heard himself say, trying to find some justification, "He was hitting his son." Again he was pacing, it seemed to be all his body knew how to do. "One second he's got his kid up against a wall and the next I just busted his face wide open." And the next I was fucking my partner.

"That's it?" She asked. "Remember anything else?"

Son of a bitch, had it been that obvious? Had she known from the second he walked in?

Maybe it was the sweat that had gathered on his forehead. Or, maybe it was the primal flare in his eyes. Or, maybe it was because he reeked of sex, and of Olivia.

"Looking in the mirror." He answered.

"And what did you see?"

"What difference does it make?" He asked harshly. He was ashamed. He didn't want anyone to know what he saw. He couldn't bring himself to give away the horrid images of shame and inadequacy that drove him to reach for his partner.

Finally he sat, exhaustion setting in, and buried his head in his hands. "What's wrong with me?" He asked himself. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me?"

Dr. Hendricks was unwavering. "Why did you come here?" She asked.

He sighed. "I had no place else to go." Had it been any other time he would have turned to Olivia. But that bridge was broken now, wasn't it? She could never forgive him for the way he had used her. And he could never bring himself to go back there and face her after what they had just done. "My Captain sent me home. I'm lucky he didn't suspend me."

She nodded. "You didn't go home."

"What's the point, though?" He was silent as he realized just how alone he really was. "My wife left me last year. She took the kids."

"Why did she leave?"

And then he laughed. He laughed because if he didn't, he'd cry. He was angry. He was angry all the time and he took it out on the ones that he loved. That's why his wife left him. She was tired of fighting.

And when he couldn't fight with her, he turned to Olivia. And when fighting didn't work, he turned to fucking; which, in this case, might have been worse than if he had punched her. Because either way, his hands had been on her and he feared that this time he had done too much damage to repair. His eyes weld up and he feared he was about to cry.

So he laughed.

"She was tired of me being angry all the time."

"Did you ever talk about it?" She asked.

He got up from the couch and turned his back, afraid to give away too much. "Yeah, I went to a priest for counseling but the next thing I know, she wanted out." He had never felt like more of a failure. He tried to be a good man and had Olivia been there she would have told him that he was. Well, she would have told him that, before.

He wasn't so sure now.

"I did everything I was supposed to do", he began, " I worked hard, I got a good job, I never cheated on my wife." His words tasted vile. Because even though he hadn't cheated today, he had been cheating for years. He was always with Olivia. She always had that parts of him that Kathy didn't and had Olivia given him any indication that it was okay he wasn't sure he wouldn't have taken her years ago.

"I've lost my kids." He wondered if she could even grasp what that had done to him. "I lost my children."

And again, he could have turned to Olivia but she wasn't there. She was always there, always found a way to give him what he needed and even today she had done that but he couldn't help but feel it wasn't what she really wanted.

It wasn't what he really wanted.

He didn't want to fuck her.

If he had it to do over again he would have held her, instead of held her down. He would have kissed her, instead of biting her. He would have been slow and caring instead of harsh and selfish.

He would have made love to her.

"It wasn't supposed to happen this way." He whispered.

"But it did." She said, clearly unaware of what he was really talking about. He sighed, the bitter truth fitting both situations. "What about what happened today?" She asked. "Did that make you feel better?"

That thought scared him. The thought of him actually liking violence, of being like those animals he locks up everyday. Was he really so out of control that she had to question him like that? Had he really lost that much of himself? It made him angry.

He looked at her, confusion and rage on his face. "What kind of question is that?" He had to know, because even he was wondering now. Even he was questioning his self control. After he grabbed Olivia. After he touched her. Even now he was questioning the lines between control and consent. "Are you judging me?"

"I'm not judging you." She said.

He hated how she was looking at him, scolding, accusing. "Don't look at me like I'm a perp." Because that was how he felt. "Look, I came here because", his words failed him as he realized the depth of what he had done, "This was a mistake."

He began walking towards the door, anguish and shame in each step. "Where are you going?" She asked. He didn't know. He didn't care. All he wanted to do was make sure that Olivia was okay and then he would crawl back to his apartment and. . . "How many times have you thought about eating your gun?"

The question, so brass, so unexpected, shook him to his very core. Because although he never tried, the thought certainly had crossed his mind.

He turned around and looked at her, trying to appear shocked. "Suicide is a sin."

"So is divorce."

And so is rape. He thought. Though he knew in the back of his mind that the encounter was consensual, he knew she would never want to be handled like that. It was something she did for him, not because she wanted to, but because he needed it.

And there it was again, the thought of him liking violence. He never meant to hurt her. God, he would kill himself before he'd let anything happen to her.

But the pesky little voice in the back of his head reminded him of how he took her. And once again, that damn voice reminded him that he had also just thought of suicide.

He walked back into the apartment and sat back on the couch.

"How long have you been at SVU?" She asked.

"Twelve years."

"The average tour is two."

"I love my job." And my partner.

"What do you love about it?"

Haven't I already answered that? "Getting justice for the victims and getting pervs off the street." He thought for a second about what he could say to make his answers less cliché, less obvious that he was struggling. "And I'm not burned out."

"Where you burned out on your marriage?"

That hurt but what hurt more was that he was burned out. "I told you she bailed. Not me." He wondered if it was a sin that he felt no shame in not missing her. He wondered how that was possible when he still felt the sting of her rejection. "You wanna cut me loose, ya know, give me a clue."

"Did your Captain give you a clue before he cut you loose?"

Fuck, this woman could hit where it hurt. "He told me a million times but I always blow it." Cragen wasn't the only one who he had run out of second chances with. "What can I tell ya? I guess I don't like being ordered around."

Dr. Hendricks smirked. "If you don't like being ordered around then why did you become a cop?"

He shrugged. "My father was on the job."

"He must be proud of you."

"He's dead."

She seemed unfazed. "He want you to go into the family business?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Kathy was pregnant."

"Was it what you wanted?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. "I wanted to be a cop all my life."

"Then why wasn't your father proud?"

He sighed. There was no way out of this. The woman had trapped him with his own words. Somehow from talking about a fight with a suspect's father they had wound up talking about his father.

And things would come forth. Things he could never share with anyone. He couldn't ever face the memories of his father's belt lashing against his skin. He could never face the shame of having to cry. Because he did cry.

He was Elliot Stabler and Elliot Stabler was not weak. He didn't need to cry. So why was he in tears now? Why was talking about his father so damn difficult and why did it seem like every move he made was still under his father's scrutinizing eyes.

Why did he feel like his father beating on his mother as he moved with Olivia.

"What did you see in that mirror today, Elliot?"

He got quiet and buried his head in his hands before collecting himself enough to look her in the eyes. "The guy my father always saw." And that's why he couldn't stand to look at himself. He couldn't stand to see the man who had beaten his ex- partner and taken advantage of the woman he loved.

"Your not weak." She said. "You're so busy being strong and helping everyone that you've got nothing left for yourself." He looked at her, almost questioning the truth in her words, wondering if she could see something in him that he couldn't. "It takes a lot more balls to talk about your problems than to beat the hell out of a ghost."

He remained silent and thought to himself.

She was right. If he could face his father, face what he had done to him, then he could face his own mistakes too. It was with that thought that he left Dr. Hendricks and headed down the streets of New York to Olivia.

This was SOOOO hard to write. Am I keeping you on edge? How am I doing at suspense?

Review?