Later that night, she makes it home, late. She closes her door, behind her, and makes a beeline, for the shower, after locking the door. She showers, and changes into pajamas. When she reaches her bed, she finds that it has been neatly made. She opens the drawer, of her nightstand, and sticks her gun inside. She finds a folded piece of paper, on her nightstand. Her name is scrawled on the outside.

She opens it up, and reads it to herself. Sorry about last night. -Trevor. She crumples it into a ball, and throws it, at the wall. She crawls into bed, and it hits her. That feeling, in the pit of your stomach, when you're alone. The one you get, when you know you're going to go to a place you don't want to be. Her mind begins to roam, as she flips off the lamp.

Had it all been her fault? She was to blame, for all of it. She never should have told Trevor that she was even pregnant. He never would have found out. Then she would have her daughter, now. Marrying Trevor had been a mistake, anyway. Hadn't it?

And, now her daughter was gone. She had been gone, for sixteen years. She was so selfish. She had chosen to work that day, instead of taking it off. She should have gone with her husband, and daughter, when they left the city. If she had, maybe she would still be with them. She wasn't even there, when her little girl disappeared from Trevor's parent's home.

She wasn't there to protect her. To keep her safe, from the evil, in the world. Instead, her daughter was taken. She could still hear the conversation, they had, that night, too.

February 14th 1997-

She sits in the kitchen, in silence. Her husband sits across the table from her. She stares at her cup of coffee. Then she catches the picture on the fridge, of her little girl. She looks up at her husband. He stares at his cup, at a loss, for words. She shakes her head, and scoots her chair out.

"I can't do this. I can't just sit here, and wait for them to find her."

"What are you going to do?"

"I am going to find her."

"Olivia," he tries to reason with her.

"No. You can't stop me," she rages, "My little girl, is out there, somewhere. She is scared, and lonely, and she needs me. I am going to find her."

"You don't even know where to look."

She grabs her car keys, off the kitchen counter. "Well, she's not here, is she?"

And, that was the truth. She wasn't there. She was gone. She didn't even know, if her daughter, was, dead, or alive. She didn't like to go there, that place, where she let herself think that thought. Her daughter could be dead. She could picture it in her mind, too. A shallow, unmarked grave, in a remote location, somewhere in Connecticut, where she would never be found.

Maybe, she would never find her. Maybe, she would never know. Was she planning the rest of her life, stuck? Sure, she had other relationships, after Trevor, but none of them ever worked out, she wouldn't let them. She couldn't let go. She didn't know how to let go. She had given up on their marriage, years ago, but she could never give up on hope. She was still holding onto hope, that her daughter was out there, somewhere. She couldn't give up, on her little girl.

Little girl? If she was alive, she wouldn't be a little girl, anymore. She would be nineteen. Old enough to be in college, or even to have a child, of her own. She couldn't picture her. In her mind, she was still three years old, with dark hair, and bright eyes.

She was such a happy little girl. She had brought them so much joy. Joy, that they didn't even know that they could feel. It was strange, how something so small, could change so many things. And now, she was gone. How could she ever move on?

She rolls onto her side, and puts the pillow over her head. She pulls the covers up, and tries to block out the sound, of her own thoughts. She lies there, in the dark, for over an hour, before sleep finally finds her.

He lies awake, in his bed. The moonlight illuminates the room, through the window. He lies there, staring at the ceiling, in silence. After an hour, he climbs out of bed. He wanders into the closet, and pulls out his own box of secrets. She had hers, and he had his. His is smaller. He slides it out, of the back of the closet.

He turns on the light, and takes a seat, on the floor of the closet. He lifts off the lid, of the shoe box. On the top, he finds just what he's looking for. A picture. It's funny how one picture could say so many things. It's of the three of them. They're at his parents house, on Easter Sunday. Cadence's first Easter. She's a chubby little baby, in a frilly purple dress. She's in her mother's arms. Olivia is kissing her head. His arms are around the both of them.

It is one of his favorite pictures. One, that hadn't been planned. His mother just snapped it. It is one of his favorite. Most of the things, the people he loved, hadn't been planned, he realizes.

He never intended to fall in love with Olivia Benson. He had a drink, at a bar with her, one night. By their first official date, he was already head over heels in love with her. And, the day she told him that she was pregnant, he knew it was meant to be. He loved them both, so much.

He pulls out another picture. He smiles, thinking back to the day that it was taken. It's a picture of Olivia, when she was his wife. She's asleep, in a chair, on their balcony, early one fall. She's several months pregnant, and her hand rests on her stomach. She has a baby name book, on her chest.

A picture he treasures, and that he's never even shown her. His two favorite girls, in the whole world. The sadness washes over him, in an instant. Now, he doesn't have either of them. One, just across town, in her bed. The other... he chokes up, at the thought, trying to push it out of his mind. The one, that may not even exist anymore.

He puts the pictures back in the box. He closes the lid, on the shoe box, and shoves it into the back of the closet.

He knows that it's wrong, as he puts the key into the lock. He carefully, and quietly opens the door. He steps inside, and locks the door behind him. It takes him a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He tiptoes through the apartment.

He makes it through the living room, towards her bedroom. He stops, at the door. It is halfway open. He slips inside. He stops, beside her bed. The moonlight, comes in, through her blinds. It shines on the bed. He stares at her, as she sleeps. She lays on her side, facing the window. She looks so peaceful, as she's sleeping.

He can't help himself. He silently moves the covers. He crawls into the bed, next to her. He watches for several seconds. She doesn't stir. He pulls the covers back over the two of them. She still doesn't make a peep. He relaxes, and wraps his arms around her.