3

The truth

October 11

It was 7:12pm and he was outside her apartment knocking on the door, after a neighbour had let him in downstairs. The phone call had terrified him. She sounded absolutely broken. He had no idea what could possibly have happened in such a short time between her seemingly normal text message at lunch time and the distress she was completely unable to hide when he heard her voice just a few hours later. He knew she had been working until 5pm and then assumed she must have come straight home to her apartment. His thoughts were racing through several scenarios he thought possible, the most likely one being a particularly horrific case. But she wasn't a rookie. She was a seasoned detective and had seen plenty of terrible things in all her years at special victims. He wondered if maybe something might have happened to one of the team. He hoped it wasn't that. Whatever it was, he hoped she would let him support her. She was too used to bottling things up and dealing with them on her own. Olivia didn't have all that many people close to her in her life and he could imagine that if something had happened to one of them it would be devastating for her.

He knocked at her door. There was no reply. "Liv," he called gently, not wanting to disturb the other residents too much. It's me, Elliot. "Liv?" he paused, straining to hear if she was coming or not. "Liv, please, open the door!" He listened again. He thought he could make out the quiet shuffle of steps towards the door. "Liv," he said more quietly, "I'm worried about you. Let me in, please!" He heard the chain and bolts slowly being removed. Then the door opened a crack. He peered through to see her standing there. Her hair was still slightly damp from the shower she had obviously not long had. She looked completely dejected. In fact she looked like she had been crying. What the hell had happened? He pushed the door open a little wider and slipped in. "Liv!" he said, reaching out and placing his hand on her arm. She flinched and pulled away. His heart lurched.

"El, I'm tired," she said.

"Liv, what's wrong?" Elliot asked, looking at her in concern. "What happened?"

"Nothing," she replied. It was obvious it was a lie.

"It's obviously not `nothing`," he said slowly. His mind was racing. "Come on, let's sit down and talk about it."

"Elliot, please…" she begged weakly, but she lacked her usual strength of conviction. Elliot grabbed her arm and led her into the living room and sat her down on the sofa. He perched next to her, still holding her arm and he realised she was shaking.

"Shit, Olivia," he said. "Please, tell me. I'm really worried about you." A tear streaked down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly.

"You really want to know?" she stammered, "Because I don't think you do, Elliot."

"Yes, I do," he said seriously. "I'm your friend, I am here for you." He pulled her close to him and held her in an embrace. She didn't fight him. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply in a deliberate attempt to relax and try and stop her body from shaking.

"I… I… I can't…" she stammered.

"Tell me," he encouraged her, absent-mindedly stroking her hair in an attempt to comfort her. In all truth her proximity to him was starting to affect him in ways he knew were more than inappropriate for the moment. He was concentrating hard on keeping his breathing steady and hoping she would not pick up on his ever-increasing heart rate. Geez, Elliot, he scolded himself. Get a grip!

"I…. I really can't…." She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip so she would require considerably more force to pull away but she didn't go that far.

"Liv," he said gently. He was shocked to see she now had tears streaming down her face. He could count the times he'd seen her cry on one hand and now here she was sobbing in his arms. Something bad had happened. He was certain of it. Then he noticed her neck. Just where the top of her t-shirt was, it seemed that her neck looked slightly red. He pulled back a little and started examining her more carefully, gently moving her t-shirt aside a little to get a better view. He was horrified to discover that in addition to some light bruising, there was a slight nick towards the side of her neck that looked like a cut with a blade of some kind. She flinched as his fingers circled the outside of the wound. He then brushed aside her fringe to discover a cut and bruise on her forehead His heart was racing and his stomach knotted in fear as he realised she had obviously been assaulted in some capacity.

"Liv?" he said gently, releasing his embrace and now grasping her upper arms, just below her shoulders. "Look at me!" She winced slightly, reluctantly raising her eyes to meet his. He saw the pain in her face and he knew it wasn't his imagination. "Where?" he asked quietly and she looked at him quizzically, but he knew she understood. After several seconds of silence she replied lowering her head.

"In the crib," she near whispered.

Her words resounded in his head. The crib? How was this even possible? She had been assaulted at the precinct, in virtually the next room to the one she worked in, surrounded by police detectives? It was unfathomable. He placed both of his hands on the sides of her face and raised it so she was looking at him again, then placed them back down on her shoulders. Her skin was so soft. Despite her red puffy eyes, she was beautiful. He was suddenly overcome with the strong desire to scoop her up in his arms and hold her and protect her and make sure nothing bad ever happened to her again. He was surprised at the strength of his protective feelings. He felt his grip on her involuntarily tightening. He tried to focus and push the distraction from his mind.

"Did he….?" He paused. He knew deep down than this was more than a simple physical attack, something more had happened. He didn't want to ask, but he had to know. Why was it so difficult to ask the question he had asked so many women day in day out? He didn't need to finish the question though. She knew exactly what he was asking.

"Yes," she whispered, silent tears still rolling down her cheeks.

It was like someone had punched a hole in his gut. How could this possibly be? At work? The place where she should be safest? How on earth had an attacker, a rapist, got into the crib? Why hadn't she fought, screamed, attracted attention, something? She was armed for God's sake. The others were seconds away. Shit, was it one of them? Someone she worked with? Was that why she had run here, unable to face her colleagues? He felt his gut tightening in anger towards the person who had done this.

She started to speak in low unemotional tones, as if she was describing one of her cases, except she was hauntingly talking about herself. "He crept up behind me, put a knife to my throat, told me if I moved an inch he would slice me, then he silently raped me from behind," she explained simply.

"Oh my God, Liv," said Elliot shocked, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"It happened so quickly," she continued. "I couldn't believe it was happening. I completely froze. It was nothing like I imagined it would be. I was useless. I thought this was how my life was going to end: raped and murdered in a place where I thought I had been safe without…." She faltered a little, not willing to mention the fact that she had been more devastated at the thought of never seeing him again than at the loss of her own life. She continued, changing tack slightly, "I thought I was going to die. I truly did. I completely froze, El. So I… I let him. I let him rape me. I was waiting for him to cut me then, but he didn't. He shoved me down to the ground and ran…. El, I, I'm so sorry. "

"No, Liv! No! You didn't do anything wrong. This isn't your fault. You know that, you do." His eyes were filled with tears and he blinked fiercely, trying to force them away. He gripped her tightly pulling her once more to his chest. He wished he could say something more profound, something to comfort her, to take her pain away, but no words would suffice.

"I was pathetic," she continued. "I just sank to the floor and sat there for a while. I couldn't go out and face them all. So I snuck down the back stairs and came straight home." Elliot could feel her tears soaking through his thin T-shirt now. He was still in disbelief. It couldn't be true. He must be having some kind of weird nightmare.

"Elliot?" she whispered. She had finished and was obviously waiting for some kind of response, but what should he say? All the usual things they said to victims just sounded so inadequate. Besides, he knew the last thing she would want was to be fed a line.

"I'm so sorry, Liv," he said. A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. "You're safe now, I promise. I hate the bastard who did this to you. We're going to nail him, Liv, we will."

"Elliot…" she said, her tone pleading. Then he realised something.

"Liv, you showered? What about the rape kit?"

Her face contorted. "I can't," she said. "Elliot, please. I don't want anyone to know about this! I wasn't going to tell you, but you just came barging in here and... Please. I'm not doing a rape kit. No one can know what happened today."

"Olivia? You can't be serious? We have to get this bastard!"

"I can't live with everyone knowing, El. I can't be the SVU detective who turned into a rape victim. Please." She looked directly into his eyes as she spoke. He recognised she was serious. He even understood to a point. She was a very private person. But this had happened at work. This wasn't something they could or should just brush under the carpet. God, what if it was someone in the office?

"Liv," he asked suddenly, "did you know him?" he asked. "Was it…?"

"Elliot, please. I don't want to talk about it any more, not now." Her eyes were pleading with him to let it alone. He would for now, he decided. He had to respect her wishes. She needed his support as a friend not as a police detective and at the moment that was much more important than anything else.

He still decided to ask the other question burning at the back of his mind. "Did he… erm… did he use a condom?" he asked awkwardly. He was relieved when she nodded. "We should still get you checked out," he said.

"All right, but not tonight," she replied miserably. "I can't face it tonight."

"Liv," he said, "I'm staying here with you tonight. I don't want you to be on your own." She automatically opened her mouth to protest, but then to his surprise, she stopped herself, instead nodding in agreement. She truly didn't want to be on her own tonight and having him here was comforting. She had been worried, still was really, that he would start to see her differently, as a victim, lose some respect for her even, blame her for not stopping the perpetrator and preventing the attack, but right now all that really mattered to her was that he was close. She couldn't avoid thinking about the fact that Pat Miller knew exactly where she lived and she was terrified he might decide it was better not to leave any witnesses behind and come after her.

It surprised her how comfortable she felt in Elliot's arms. She had no one else to turn to. Anyway, she didn't want to talk about it with anyone else. It was bad enough that Elliot knew, but she trusted him. He wouldn't tell anyone without her say-so. She was sure over time she could get him more on board about her reasons for not reporting it, although she was a little worried what his reaction would be if he found out who had done it. She didn't intend to mention that any time soon though.

"I just want to put it out of my mind. Maybe watch some mindless TV and go to bed," she said, forcing a weak smile.

"We can do anything you want," he said softly, stroking her hair gently.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly. "This wasn't what you had in mind when I invited you out this evening, was it?"

"Liv, please, please don't apologise. None of this is your fault and I'm here for you."

"You're a good friend, El," she replied snuggling into him a little. He wondered how good a friend he really was, as he was finding it hard to concentrate on not allowing his physical reaction to her closeness give away his true feelings towards her. He was certain the last thing she needed right now was to be made aware of just how much he cared about her.

It was a subject he had been considering broaching tonight, as a matter of fact. He had planned on taking her to a small little Italian place that he had recently discovered. The tables were set in private alcoves, with candles and flowers. There was ample good wine and the food was to die for. He had been hoping the romantic atmosphere would have given him the courage to reveal to her just how strongly he felt, hoping that she might be ready to admit she felt the same. He knew she cared for him, but he also sensed she was as nervous as he was about taking a step into unknown territory and risking everything they had. He knew for certain that he wanted more though. Now he had settled into his single life a little better, he recognised the strength of his feelings much more clearly.

They snuggled for a while, neither speaking. Eventually Olivia shifted.

"You must be starving," she said. He smiled, amazed that, in the midst of something like this, she was still thinking about someone other than herself.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Not really. I could probably eat something light. Do you want to order take-out?"

"Sure," he said. "What do you fancy? Chinese?"

"You choose, I really don't think I could eat much anyway."

"Well then, if it's alright with you, I think I'll just get a pizza."

"OK," she agreed. "There's a menu in that drawer over there." He stood to fetch the menu, a little reluctant to release his hold on her.

He ordered a large pepperoni with extra cheese. Once he'd finished his call, Olivia switched on the TV.

"They said it should be about twenty five minutes," he said.

"OK," she said. "Do you want a beer or something?"

"Sure," he said, "one won't hurt." The truth was he felt like something a lot stronger, although he didn't want to drink too much. He wanted to be able to give Olivia his full attention tonight. He suspected she might have trouble sleeping and he planned on staying by her side if she had a difficult night.

Olivia stood.

"I can get it," he said, immediately standing himself.

"No, Elliot, please, I can get you a beer. I'm not going to fall apart opening the fridge and cracking a can."

"I know, but…"

"Please, just let me get it for you."

He sighed. He felt bad having her wait on him after everything she had been through that evening. She brought him a can with a glass.

"Thanks," he said, smiling gratefully. He noticed she had a beer in her hand herself. She took a long slow sip. Then she sat back down beside him.