A/N Warning. I'm afraid this is a very dark chapter, darker than I ever intended to go, but someone pointed out to me that the beauty of fanfic is the chance to anonymously explore areas you may not normally consider venturing. I think if you've read this far, it will be OK though. I have tried to write it at sensitively as I can. I know this is a hard story, but I believe it will be worth it in the end. Olivia needs Elliot and he equally needs her. x

9

The hospital

"How did it go?" he asked as soon as he slipped back inside the room after the on-call psychiatrist left. She was lying slumped back against the pillows, seemingly staring at nothing in particular, her gaze landing on a bare stretch of the drab off-white wall opposite her bed. The peculiar distinct smell of disinfectant permeated his nose. Hospitals had a way of getting you down.

She shrugged apathetically, refusing to meet him in the eye; a sure sign, as far as he was concerned, that she hadn't been particularly cooperative.

"Liv, you need to talk about it," he admonished her gently.

"I'm sick of talking about it," she retorted, her frustration apparent in her tone. "What good does going over and over everything do? Does it help you? Does it bring back Kathy? Does it take away the ache in your heart? Does it make you feel any better?"

"Liv, you know how it works."

They had been supporting victims for the larger part of their careers, but it was entirely different when attempting to apply that knowledge and experience to your own situation. He wished he could somehow reassure her, tell her that by facing it, over time things would get better, but in truth her words had hit home. He was all too aware that it wasn't true that time lessened the pain; it was just that hopefully you gradually learned to accept its presence and live with it. Some people were better at that than others. Regardless, it was never easy.

Another fleeting memory of his late wife suddenly hit. It was the day after Maureen had been born. He had come to visit them both in the hospital and had pushed open the door to find them both fast asleep, his newborn tucked up in the crook of her mother's arm. He had stood for a while, staring down at them in awe, his desire to nurture and protect them both building in his chest to the extent that tears formed in his eyes. A few minutes later, as though sensing his presence, Kathy had woken and smiled when she had seen he was there and it had truly sunk in then that the woman before him was the mother of his child. His admiration for what she had just been through to bring the baby into the world overwhelmed him. Whatever happened now, he determined he would always be there for her, for them both. They deserved no less. His role had shifted from lover to husband and now to Father. It knew without a doubt it was the most important thing he would ever do in this world. Family meant everything.

Now as he stared at Olivia, he tried to imagine what it must have been like for her never to have had that. Her very existence was a result of a violent, abhorrent act and she had been forced to face the pain of knowing that while she was loved, she was simultaneously abhorred, simply because of her existence and what she represented. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her mother to have been faced with the daily reminder of the horror she had suffered, let alone how devastating it must have been for her daughter to see that pain reflected in her mother's eyes every time she had raised her arms for a hug. It grieved him that she had never known the kind of pure unconditional love that every child deserved. No wonder she had found it difficult to trust men and to allow herself the chance at a loving relationship. It seemed remarkable to him how warm and compassionate she actually was given her upbringing and genetic heritage.

"I thought she'd never leave," she said, bringing his attention away from his musings and back to the room and her immediate situation.

"Well did she prescribe any medication?"

She shrugged and his face screwed with worry. Her complete indifference to her situation unnerved him. He couldn't help but wonder if she was really in any state to leave the hospital any time soon.

"If you didn't like her, I can get them to find someone else?" he suggested hopefully. Perhaps it was as simple as a clash of personalities?

"Don't bother."

He sighed. He had no idea how to deal with this. He felt completely out of his depth.


He had slipped out, telling her he needed to use the bathroom, but in fact he intended to see if he could have a word with her doctors. He was worried beyond belief by her uncharacteristic despondency and wanted to see if the psychiatrist had any insight after their chat.

He spotted her in the nurses' station conversing with Olivia's main medical doctor, a slightly built woman probably at least twenty years the psychiatrist's junior. Grateful he had caught them both, he approached.

"Can I have a word?" he asked, trying to hold himself together enough to face whatever it was their insight might reveal.

They ushered him into an office and he took the seat he was offered, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

"I'm worried about Olivia," he said heavily. "This is so unlike her. She's a fighter, you know, but it's like she's shut down. She's not herself. I can't even…" he broke off, as the emotion threatened to overwhelm him.

"Mr Stabler. I gather she's been through a significant trauma," the psychiatrist said.

"Yes," he nodded, his heart sinking as he realized Olivia obviously hadn't revealed a thing about her ordeal during the consultation. What had they been talking about? The weather?

"She was held for four days by a vicious sociopath, raped, beaten, humiliated and tortured and in addition to that forced to witness three murders and the rape of another victim," he explained flatly. He knew he didn't have it in him to mention the extent of his involvement in it. This wasn't about him anyway. It was about her.

"My God," the younger doctor breathed visibly shocked. She had known her patient had been assaulted, but hearing the extent of the list of atrocities had thoroughly taken her aback. Something like this would surely affect even the most seasoned of professionals. The psychiatrist to her credit hid her repulsion a little better.

"She's been through hell. I don't know how to help her." he added hopelessly. He wasn't sure how to help himself for that matter.

"It certainly explains a lot. I believe even from the brief talk we had that she's severely clinically depressed. She needs urgent care. In fact I was just discussing this with Doctor Maynard here, but I am placing her on a 72 hour suicide watch hold."

"What?" he stammered, the color draining from his face. Despite his own doubts, hearing the psychiatrist utter the words so matter-of-factly shook him to the core. He had almost hoped he had been overreacting and that the doctors would have reassured him she wasn't as bad as he had feared.

"After speaking with her, I believe there is a significant risk of a second suicide attempt and I also believe that if she gets the chance she will make sure she is successful," the psychiatrist confirmed, sending a cold chill throughout his body.

"What if I promise to stay with her?"

"I really can't recommend that she leave the hospital. She needs medication and therapy urgently."

"It's really that bad, doctor?"

"Yes, I believe so."

He leaned forward, his head in his hands, barely able to process what the doctor was telling him.

"Can you help her?" he asked finally.

"We'll certainly try," the doctor replied solemnly.


Elliot's home

4 months ago

He had lost all track of time. All he knew was that Kathleen had been gone too long and something was terribly wrong. He wondered if somehow Lewis had caught up with her and the thought petrified him. He couldn't understand what could possibly have happened. She had escaped. All she had needed to do was run to the nearest house and call 911. What could possibly have got in the way of that? Had she tried to come back for some reason? Had Lewis then run into her on his way out with Olivia? Countless possibilities ran through his mind, but none of them made any sense. The only thing he knew for sure was that somehow she must have been prevented from contacting the police, for if she had, surely help would already be here by now. He had to face the very real possibility that no one was coming, that both of them would die here.

Kathy's slumped form was still. She hadn't moved nor made a sound for a while now. He couldn't confirm it, but given the amount of blood he could see, he suspected she had already succumbed to her injuries. It seemed unthinkable that she could really be gone. She had been part of his life his entire adulthood. The thought of facing a future without her was almost paralyzing. How was he supposed to tell their children that their mother had gone, just like that with no warning, with no good reason for it whatsoever? It occurred to him that this was his fault. Ultimately, whichever way you looked at it, his career choice had led to her death and he wasn't at all sure how he was supposed to live with that.

He was beginning to feel light-headed and was aware that he had probably lost a significant amount of blood himself. He wondered how much longer he had before he too joined his wife. He almost longed for the release from his current turmoil that death would provide, but the thought of leaving his children alone without a mother or a father, especially Eli, turned his stomach. He imagined the older kids would look out for their younger brother, but it saddened him immeasurably to think that given his tender age he would barely retain any memories of his parents. At least he wasn't here; that was one thing to be grateful for! He was probably safely tucked into bed now at Maureen's. She had always had a special fondness for her younger brother and sometimes took him overnight. Both he and Kathy welcomed the break. As much as they loved their rambunctious son, it was a completely different story raising a child in your forties than in your twenties.

His mind turned back to Olivia and his stomach knotted as a flashback suddenly hit without warning; the image of her lying there, her hands and feet tied to the bed, naked, exposed, the dismal resignation in her eyes, her silent plea for redemption and the awful sound of Lewis humming an innocuous tune as he cracked a can of beer that he had helped himself to from the fridge. How could someone be so impervious to the suffering of another human being like this? How could he sit there, perched on the side of the bed beside her, sipping at a can of Budweiser as though he had not a care in the world, while clutching a wooden spoon that not five minutes later he deliberately and callously inserted into her, his only possible motivation her absolute humiliation.

It seemed purely a senseless desire to utterly degrade her. Barely conscious, Olivia had hardly flinched as the offending object had penetrated her and Elliot had watched repulsed as Lewis had removed it, bringing it up to her face. Knowing what he intended Elliot had closed his eyes at this point. He had no comprehension of how anyone could even entertain such cruelty. He had felt the silent tears slowly trickle from his eyes as her tormentor had verbalized his gratification at the latest obscene act he forced her to perform and once again he had silently begged and pleaded with God to do something, anything to stop this evil, this unimaginable malevolence that had besieged them, reaffirming his eternal allegiance should his desperate request for divine intervention be granted. At that point he knew he would willingly sacrifice himself to any eternal fate if it had meant it would save her from further torment.

He tried to tear his thoughts away, force himself to think of something else, anything else, but he couldn't get the images out of his head. Curiously, despite everything he had witnessed, the one memory that remained most tenaciously was that of her being carried away after the shots had fired out. Lewis had thrown her over his shoulder, dragging her off to an uncertain fate. It was true he may end up dying here in his own bedroom, but at least the worst was over for him now. The idea that Olivia was still suffering in ways he didn't even dare begin to imagine, made him long for Lewis to meet with the worst kind of torturous end possible. If by some chance he survived this, he would make him pay. It was a promise that he fully intended to keep.

Inside the trunk of a stolen car

She tried to roll over onto her side, but couldn't. Her head was spinning. Her arms were pinned behind her back, and her legs trussed, her mouth gagged, her eyes blindfolded. The helplessness was overwhelming. Her body ached all over, but the pain between her legs had gradually begun to worsen so much so that she almost longed for more of the vodka that he had once again forced down her throat not long ago. She could feel a certain amount of dampness which suggested she had been bleeding, but her mind refused to even go as far as imagining what kind of internal damage might have been caused. It suddenly occurred to her that at some point he had redressed her. She cringed, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as she recalled how he had slowly pulled her panties up her legs, running his hands along her skin as he did so, taking his time, tormenting her relentlessly before finally thrusting his fingers roughly inside her injured body, making her cry out with pain once more.

Would this nightmare never end? Would it actually be better to die? Had Elliot really been there? Shit, he had been shot. The realization hit hard. He couldn't be dead. Not Elliot. This was all her fault. And Kathy too! She distinctly remembered his wife had taken a bullet in the chest. The chances of her surviving that seemed slim.

She whimpered miserably, devastated at the senseless loss and suffering, knowing there wasn't a single soul to hear her. The loneliness was crushing.

He couldn't be gone. Not Elliot.

Tears had already soaked through her blindfold and she could feel the moisture flowing over her cheeks as she gave up on her attempt to roll over. What was the point in fighting for anything any more? Her life was over. There was no getting over something like this, surely? She didn't want to die, but she knew that like this she didn't want to live either.