In the Blink of an Eye

by originella

Margaret "Maggie" Holbrook has always wanted to be an actress; however, she soon discovers she was adopted soon after birth and her dreams change after she is sexually assaulted. After being educated at police academy with a degree in criminal law, she moves to New York, where her mystery, and her destiny, truly begins. Who is Maggie's mother? Prepare to find out...

20. In the Blink of an Eye

Chapter Twenty: In the Blink of an Eye

William Lewis had been a spree rapist and murderer, and after being caught, his attorney posted bail and he was out. I showed up at the squad as soon as I heard the news broke, and managed to find Olivia. She was alone, in one of the interrogation rooms off the hallway, and I found myself flashing back to the day that Don had told the both of us that Elliot wasn't coming back. Feeling a sense of foreboding within me once again, I pushed open the door, and stood there, hesitating in the doorway, the only sound being emitted from the room was that of Olivia's sobbing, and my heart immediately went out to her.

Shutting the door behind me, I quickly crossed the room and put my arms around her, the words revealing my true identity on the tip of my tongue. As Olivia turned and threw her arms around me, her sobs turned into soft wails. She couldn't speak and, once again, I kept my mouth shut tight. How in the hell could I tell her now, when she had a target shape painted on her forehead?

"Liv, don't do this to yourself," I whisper. "Come back to Westchester with me tonight, please. Hunter is away on that assignment with Mason, and Edythe is still in that rehab for another couple of months. Helena's taken the kids, so it's just me there. Please, come to my house. You'll be safe..."

"Can't," Olivia said, pulling back. "I really appreciate the offer, Maggie, really I do, but in going to your house..." She shakes her head. "It's almost as if I'm running away from it all. And besides, it'd be putting you in danger, too, and I couldn't do that... Not to you."

"Why?" I whisper. "I'm a police officer, too. Why wouldn't you treat me the same as everyone else?"

"Because you're not the same," Olivia replies swiftly, dashing the tears from her eyes and leaving me alone in there.

I made the drive to Westchester alone that evening, as usual; it was unseasonably raining as I made my way to the highway, feeling nervous and scared for Olivia. I knew that she could handle herself, but my heart was in several places that night—with Helena and the twins; with Edythe at her rehab; with Olivia and all her bundles of nerves and attempts at bravery; and especially at Hunter, in whatever location he was with Mason. I finally found the proper exit in the semi-darkness and made my way through the roads and towards the gate of the community, before typing in the correct password and letting myself in. Down the curved street and then down the cobbled road where, at the end of it, I would have reached my home.

I put my car in the garage and make sure to lock everything behind me. Making my way up the back stairs, I flick on the lights as I go, heading into the kitchen to make myself a late dinner. I decide on a chicken breast and a baked potato, as well as a salad, and—as I'm readying everything—I head into the living room to see what is on T.V. that night. As I'm mentally deciding what to watch—nothing news oriented because I absolutely do not want to see anything about the Lewis case—I come to a stop by the elaborate mirror in the hallway.

The mirror—a gift from Derrick for the wedding—was one of those that you would probably see in a French palace or something. He claimed to have found it while on a retreat somewhere in Europe, but now...now it was ruined! Written in what appeared to be blood was the following: I know where you are, Captain Maggie Grayson. Don't hesitate to presume that I don't know where Olivia is. I am going to her now. Don't wait up, because as soon as I'm finished with her, all of her, you're next. —WL

I can barely contain my screams of fear as I quickly manage to find my phone, and make the necessary calls needed. This had to get out—lives were at stake: Mine, Olivia's, and all that was dear to me.

"Maggie! Maggie, wake up! It's all right!"

"No, stop!" I find myself screaming, my eyes shooting open, and my arms almost immediately going around Hunter. "It was awful...!"

"Shh," he whispers. "Tell me what happened."

"Lewis," I whisper. "His kidnapping Olivia, and his trying to get to me... It was all so awful..."

Hunter pulls me closer. "We discussed it briefly after I got back, but we never really fully discussed what happened to you..."

"He tried to rape me," I say softly. "Suffice it to say, it wasn't successful." I cross my arms. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," Hunter says, backing off. "Is that all that's bothering you?"

"Yes," I snap back, turning to face the clock. "Oh! Dammit. The alarm was shut off again! I'm so late..."

"Late for what?" Hunter asks, and it is then that I notice that he's already dressed and ready to go.

"The verdict on Baby Boy Doe—the one that Olivia found in the house of those porn producers," I reply. "I promised her I'd go to court with her today."

"That can't be easy for you," Hunter says softly as I proceed to chuck my nightclothes into the hamper.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

"You, witnessing Olivia give so much concern to a baby, one that isn't even her own," he observes.

I feel myself gritting my teeth. "Of course it isn't," I reply.

"Then why go?" he asks. "Why put yourself through that?"

I sigh. "Because Olivia is my friend," I reply. "And besides, if it gets out that I'm feeling jealous, people will question it. I can't have that."

"Maggie..."

"No." I raise my hand. "Olivia gave me up while she was in college, so me suddenly telling her after all these years... No. Not going to happen."

"Odd, really," Hunter observes.

"What?"

"She has that younger brother—Simon, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, Simon. What about him?"

"Well, she ran her DNA through that kinship analysis..."

"How did you...?"

"Elliot knew, who told Don, who told Ed, who told me. If you're a cop, your blood is probably on record somewhere. How could she not know, if...?"

"Don called in a few favors," I reply. "It was almost five years after she initially found Simon... But I guess one of Don's favors was keeping it under wraps. He called the DNA lab and told them that I wanted to keep it confidential... I don't know much about it. If you remember correctly, it was not an easy conversation to have—I was pretty mad at him..."

"You also filed for divorce at that point," Hunter puts in, running a comb through his hair as I turn on the shower water. "Forgive me if I can't quite remember a time when you weren't exactly my favorite person."

I take great delight in that moment as I throw off my robe and step into the shower in that next moment. "You're welcome to join me," I tell him.

He sighs. "I'd love to, but I'm running late, too," he says, leaning over and kissing me briefly. "Temptress," he mutters, a chuckle in the back of his throat, as he leaves me to continue my morning routine.

I arrive at the courthouse, late of course, and make my way to the front desk. I find myself tapping my fingers impatiently on the fine oak, annoyed that nobody is there to direct me. Growing frustrated at my own lateness and people's inability to assist me, I decide to take off on my own and attempt to find the courtroom on my own. Heading off down the hallway, I hear a female judge speaking, and a faint reply of, "Yes, Your Honor" and I immediately recognize Olivia's voice.

"Sergeant Benson, you rescued the infant, isn't that right?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Olivia replies.

"And you're the only one who's taken a consistent interest on his behalf. Is there any chance you might like to become a foster mother to this baby?" I immediately stop walking. I am just on the other side of the doorway, so nobody in the courtroom would be able to see me. I cannot think—I cannot think! I am utterly shaking, wondering what Olivia's response will ultimately be. Although it seems like years, in reality, it is just a few moments.

"I'm sorry. Excuse me, Your Honor?" Olivia asks.

"I have a feeling about this, Sergeant Benson," the judge replies. "Call it a judge's hunch. If you agree, I will order Noah Porter into your care as custodial parent for one year, at which time you will be given the option to permanently adopt him. Do you agree?"

I am numb as Olivia stands there, presumably dumbfounded, and, ultimately, tells the judge that she would love to. I quickly turn on my heel and run as fast as I can down the hallway, not bothering to look back. I get to the parking garage and find myself unlocking my car door and slamming it behind me. I am gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles are quickly turning white—I cannot allow myself to think.

Of course Olivia will adopt him, I tell myself bitterly. She'll adopt him and will be seen as the hero cop who adopted an unwanted baby. I couldn't believe I was being so negative about the whole thing—I myself had made the choice not to tell Olivia about her being my birth mother, as well as forcing everyone else who knew that fact to keep silent as well. I wipe the tears from my eyes, noticing that Olivia has texted me, asking me where I was, that she was looking for me. I know what I have to do—I know what I have to say.

But I don't; I don't say anything, other than making up a quick lie about traffic as I cannot bring myself to shatter her perfect world. In that moment, I envisioned a new life for Olivia Benson and knew, deep down, that I could not bring myself to ruin it in the slightest. Putting my key into my ignition, I drove out of the parking lot and made my way over to Homicide—it would be nearly a year before I spoke to Olivia again.

I know I am dreaming as soon as I enter that room. The notion hit me immediately, and I found myself shaking. However, I forced myself to go through the motions, although part of me didn't know that it was forceful, deliberate, anything like that at all...

I was seventeen years old, weeks from my own eighteenth birthday, when that day happened—when it happened. He must've seen me through the crowd of other kids—I don't know. I remember using the facilities but then he charged into the bathroom as I was washing my hands. I found out later that the sick bastard had put an "OUT OF ORDER" sign on the door so nobody could come in—clever son of a bitch, let me tell ya. He managed to throw my purse across the room—this was 2003, so I guess he didn't feel the need to check if I had a cell phone on me—and pin my hands behind my back, before I had a chance to break away. He held me there, tearing through my sweater tights and pulling up the above-the-knee-length skirt of my new dress and pinned me to the counter. Grunting like a dog in heat into my ear, I felt him shove himself inside me.

Naturally, I tried to scream; I'd only dated three boys in high school—Bobby Thompson, Derrick Howard, and Lewis Monroe—and I hadn't slept with any of them, or anyone, for that matter. Writhing against him in an attempt to get away from him, he chuckled—maybe he thought I wanted him. Having no experience in this field, all I could do was do my best to look away from my pathetic expression in the mirror in front of me, however, he thought of that, too. Gripping me tightly and angling my neck the way he wanted, he forced me to witness my attack; he also manages to choke me every few seconds as well. Then after maybe three or four minutes, which seemed like hours, he pulled away from me and cleaned himself off—my blood had gotten on him—and left the bathroom quickly and quietly.

Shaking and nearly blinded by my tears, I managed to pull my skirt down and dash over to my phone. I'd read somewhere that your first instinct if you're assaulted is to take a shower—that is probably the worst thing you can do. Fumbling with my purse, I quickly lock the bathroom door to prevent him coming back if he changed his mind at letting me live. Then, I open my bag and get my slim, silver cell phone out and open it quickly, the numbers 9-1-1 appearing on my screen as soon as I've entered them onto the keypad.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?" asks the woman on the other end.

"I've just been raped," I whisper, managing to form the words. "I was raped... I need help, please..."

"Okay, we can help you. Where are you?"

"FAO Schwartz in the ladies' room," I reply quickly.

"What's your name, honey?" the woman asks.

"Maggie," I reply. "Maggie Isabelle Holbrook..."

I find myself reaching out then, wanting to touch the reflection of the young girl in the mirror—the girl who would fall in love with two cops; the girl who would go undercover to save the first child she had ever come to love maternally; the girl who would be scarred for life from one event, putting her on a different path forever; and the girl keeping such a dark secret, it was consuming her alive. I found myself screaming again, tossing and turning, whereupon strong hands took ahold of me and I found myself shaking.

"Maggie!" Hunter's voice resonated in my ears and my hands, once defensive claws, flattened to welcoming arms as I threw my arms around him. "Wake up. It was only a dream..."

"Nightmare," I whisper, my eyes flying open.

"Lewis again?" Hunter asks.

"No... FAO Schwartz—the rape," I reply.

Hunter pulls me close. "I can call in sick for you, if you like," he tells me.

I shake my head. "No, believe me... In the year that Olivia took Noah Porter in, I've taken more days off than I ever had. I almost missed Melanie and Jimmy's wedding last month. I won't take any more time off unless I'm dying of typhoid or something. Case closed."

I take a quick shower and make a grab for a cereal bar from the kitchen, while I turn to see Edythe coming out of her room. My seventeen-year-old daughter, now in college online, gives me a quizzical look then, assessing the situation. She had taken every psychology class she could get her hands on, and found she truly enjoyed it, but still had her heart set on being a cop. I step forward and kiss her forehead, and yet she still gives me that look.

"You had a nightmare," she says softly.

"Mom, is Edythe being psychic again?" Livi asks.

"No fair! I wanted to asks that!" Donnie complains.

"Kids, come on, now," I say, admonishing my five-year-old twins. "Your sister is just assessing my mind—no harm, no foul."

"Fowl! Like bird!" two-year-old Mason chimes in.

I chuckle. "Something like that," I reply.

"We should start him on homonym lessons," Edythe says softly.

"Shh!" I say, trying not to laugh. "Okay. Well, I have to head out now. Nate may think that he's captain now," I joke, leaving the kitchen and heading down to my car. It is a warm, late spring day, and I find I am feeling optimistic as I head down the driveway. I make my way to the freeway, loving the fact that there is no traffic on the roads, and get into Manhattan quickly. I easily make my way towards the Homicide building, parking in my allotted parking space and making my way into the building. I get upstairs and wave to everybody, stepping into my office, which is when everything comes to a head...

A woman with short, brown hair, similar to mine, states to a man of tall height and pale eyes that she'll ride along with me and climbs in beside me in the ambulance. I hear the squeak of the doors shutting behind her and then a light slap-slap as someone—presumably the man she spoke to—urges the ambulance to get to the hospital.

"Maggie?" says the woman, and I turn to look at her. "My name is Olivia, I'm a police detective with the Special Victims' Unit. Can you tell me what happened to you?"

I sigh, nodding, the tears escaping. "The son of a bitch raped me," I reply.

She nods, her eyes understanding. "I know you're angry, Maggie, but the sooner you tell me everything, the sooner I can get out of your hair." She takes a moment for her words to sink in before continuing. "Some of the officers noticed that there was an "OUT OF ORDER" sign on the bathroom door. Do you know anything about that?"

I shake my head vehemently. "No!" I cry. "There wasn't when I went back there, I swear! An employee showed me the restroom and assured me that everything back there was working fine..."

She nods again. "Okay. So you went in there to use the bathroom. You said an employee showed you. Did you get his name?"

I nod. "Yeah. Karl, with a 'K'. He wore a nametag."

"Wow. Quick remembering..."

"I want to be an actress," I reply. "I did a few commercials as a child and had to learn how to memorize things quickly. I was doing lead roles by middle school and got to play Annie." I shrug. "Memorization comes easily to me." "Well, that could be helpful to us," Olivia encourages. "Then what happened next, after Karl showed you to the bathroom? Did you end up using the bathroom or did the man follow you in there quickly?" She senses my anxiety before she reaches out to take my hand. "I know it's not easy, and I can't begin to imagine what's going through your mind, but please, tell me."

I lower my eyes then, and feel my hands shaking. "He pinned me to the bathroom counter after I washed my hands," I say quietly. "He got my hands wrapped around my waist and pinned them at the base of my waist. He... He ripped my tights," I say, pulling up my skirt ever so slightly to show her the damage done by the perfect stranger. I let go of the skirt at the sight of blood, shivering as I feel a new set of tears coming.

"Take your time," Olivia says, jotting a few things down on one of those miniature notepads you can find at any drug store check-out.

"He forced himself inside me, and then he managed to wrap his other hand up around my body and managed to clamp my mouth shut while holding my neck in place..." More tears form as I force myself to get the words out. "He wanted me to watch him rape me," I whisper.

"Very good," Olivia says, shaking her head at my plight. "Did he do anything else after that?"

"He laughed when I started crying," I confess. "He slapped my ass a few times and that's when..." My eyes widen then, recalling something.

"What, Maggie?" Olivia asked. "What happened?"

"He spoke to me," I whisper. "I'm just remembering it now...I'm sorry."

"That's okay," Olivia assures me. "People who are raped will frequently remember key details later. Do you remember what he said?"

"He said, 'Every first time's gotta be special. Bet you're happy it was me, huh? I wanna thank you for being so sweet to me'. Then he said, 'Hit me up sometime', and put his number in my hand... I think I dropped it into my purse..."

Olivia's eyes widen then as she immediately pulls a pair of disposable gloves onto her hands and grabs an evidence bag. She searches my purse, finding the scrap of paper with a number written in Sharpie. "Great," she says, putting it into the evidence bag. "We'll call the number, see what we can get, if we can manage to dust it for fingerprints."

I nod. "Thanks, Olivia," I reply.

She returns my nod. "Don't mention it. Just doing my job."

"Hello, Olivia," I say, making my way to my coat rack and hanging up my sweater before turning back to her. "Trying out the Homicide Unit's captain desk out for size?" I joke.

She sighs. "Maggie... Come on. I know you."

I turn to make sure the door is closed behind me before turning back to her. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Maggie, don't be difficult," she replies.

"Is that what you say when Noah is misbehaving?" I ask her.

Olivia's eyebrows knit together. "I guess I was right."

"Meaning?"

She gets to her feet. "You're seeing Noah as a threat to our friendship," she replies without missing a beat.

Almost but not quite, I think to myself. "And why do you say that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asks. "I took him into my care a year ago. I came here to offer an olive branch."

I shake my head. "I don't understand."

She sighs. "Maggie, I'm adopting Noah."

"I heard that his birth father came back," I reply.

"Nick killed him in the line of duty," Olivia replies. "When Johnny Drake, Noah's father, was in court, he knew that he wasn't getting out of his crimes. He shot at some people—a male court officer, Nick, and Judge Elana Barth, but they survived. Stella Lopez, another court officer, however, was held hostage before Johnny Drake shot her." She chuckles darkly then. "Nick's blood was all over my hands before they took him in to the hospital. His liver and knee were shot up pretty bad, but he'll live..."

I shuffle from foot to foot. "Well, I'm sorry about that. I never want anything bad to happen to fellow officers, you know that."

"And what about good things?" Olivia asks.

I raise my eyes to hers. "I don't understand."

"I'm finally getting a shot at having my own family, Maggie. Why can't you just be happy for me?"

I shake my head. "It's not that simple, Liv."

"Nothing is ever simple in our line of work, Maggie. At least Elliot understood that. You?" she laughs darkly again. "You? I think you're still coming to terms with that fact," she says, turning and leaving the office.

I feel my eyes beginning to fill with tears as Olivia slams the door behind me, my whole office shaking. I lean back against my desk, not knowing what to do or say in that moment of silence that came after the slam. My mind, naturally, drifted to Elliot, and that first night together we'd had so long ago...

Elliot asked to walk me back to my place after dinner and I accepted. As we walked he told me some more about the department and when he got to my door, I invited him in. He accepted and came up with me, and I showed him to my living room and we sat on the same couch.

"Can I ask something personal?" I ask him.

He nods. "Sure."

"I remember that you wore a wedding ring..."

He sighs and nods. "Yeah. My wife and I separated in January. She took the kids, we've got four. It's a long story."

I find myself taking his hand. "I'm so sorry... What are your kids like?"

He smiles a little at that. "Well, first there was Maureen—we accidentally got pregnant with her in high school. I married Kathy and joined the Marines before joining the force. Then there was Kathleen, then our twins, Richard and Elizabeth who are just the most rambunctious little monsters..."

"I notice you didn't say 'devils'," I say softly. "You're Catholic?"

He nods. "I am."

I nod. "Me, too."

He lowers his eyes, taking his thumb and tracing my knuckles with his finger. "I'm sure you left a brokenhearted guy back in Seattle..."

I shake my head. "No. The last guy I dated has already moved on; it was almost a year ago now." I shrug. "I don't date much."

"Huh," Elliot says, processing that information. His eyes lock with mine, and I sense something pass between us then. He leans in and kisses me, and I find myself kissing him back. He reaches out and brings my arms up around his neck, and I find the charge that passes between us to be electric. He leans me back down onto the couch and I lock my legs around his waist, not caring how this makes me look in the slightest. "Where's your...?"

"Down the hall to the left," I reply.

Effortlessly, Elliot lifts me to him and carries me to my bedroom, putting me down upon my bed and proceeding to take off my clothes. I sit up then and untie his tie and help him in throwing off his dinner jacket. He gets out of his pants and soon is standing there in nothing but an undershirt and a pair of boxers; and I felt my desire ebb within me. I'd quickly done the math, and it didn't matter that I was five years younger than his daughter; we both wanted this. I dug in my nightstand drawer and got him out a condom (I'd been on the pill since I was sixteen and never skipped one) and lay back, naked, waiting for him. He undressed fully and climbed on top of me, adjusting himself and putting the rubber onto his appendage, a devilish smile framing his lips.

I return the smile as he angles himself appropriately, and then he is suddenly inside me, and I let out a yelp at how good and satisfying it feels. "Elliot," I whisper over and over again.

After two hours of heady lovemaking, I slip on a pair of underwear and a T-shirt as Elliot dresses himself. I walk him to the door, pulling on a sweater as I go, and open it up for him. He turns around then, the same look in his eyes. "We'll have to do this again sometime," he tells me.

I nod. "I'd like that." I stand on my toes and kiss him; I feel delicious inside as he pulls me firmly by my waist to taste every bit of me. When he lets me go, I let out a sad little sigh of yearning, but he tilts my chin up.

"I got your number, don't worry," he says with a smile. "I'll call you soon. Okay? I promise, Maggie."

I smile back. "I know."

"Goodnight, Maggie." He leans down to kiss me again.

I keep ahold of his hand as he walks away from me, waving to him. "Goodnight, Elliot," I reply.

I try and fail to take care of the mountain of paperwork that has accumulated in my many absences at work. I felt like a total insignificant bitch for what I'd been doing and how I'd been treating Olivia. This whole time, I'd acted like she had known about this whole thing—that she'd known about me being her biological daughter all these years, and that she had deliberately begun the process of adopting Noah as her son to spite me. Of course, my mind hastily put those thoughts to bed, although this whole process cut like a knife.

I dashed the tears from my eyes as I forced myself to work. Around noon, after about three hours of working hard, a tap on my office door had me automatically telling the knocker to come in, and I was surprised to see Edythe stepping in and shutting the door behind me. She informed me that she had come into town to take me to lunch and, thankful for the welcoming distraction, consented, leaving my paperwork—halfway done—in a heap on my desk. I left the office and picked this Italian café close by. Because it was so warm, the pair of us decided to eat our panini sandwiches outside.

"You look like a wreck," Edythe tells me blithely, biting into her steak and cheddar panini. "What happened?"

I sigh. "Olivia came to see me today."

"When's the last time you saw her?"

I lower my chicken pesto panini onto my plate. "Over a year ago," I reply. "I went to family court that day to check on the Noah Porter case and the judge asked Olivia if she wanted to be his foster mother..."

"Yeah, I remember now," Edythe says, smiling at me sympathetically. "Why did she want to see you today?"

I sigh. "She's going to be adopting Noah."

"When?"

"Soon, I think. It wasn't a particularly long conversation."

Edythe nods, taking another bite of her sandwich and swallowing. "And you're upset because you thought that she didn't want kids, which is why she put you up for adoption, and now you're feeling left out?"

"I understand her decision to put me up for adoption," I say, hating myself for coming to Olivia's defense. "It couldn't have been an easy choice for anyone—let alone a girl in college. But, of course I'm upset. All I ever wanted was to be able to tell her the truth, but it's not that simple."

Edythe purses her lips. "What's not so simple? It's a secret you've held onto for four years—that's all it is."

"Four years?" I ask, laughing. "Sometimes I forget that I'm nearing thirty..."

"M-om! This is serious," Edythe says, growing impatient. "Nobody is stopping you except yourself. Just tell her. I know it's killing you not to."

I smile across the table at the beautiful, intelligent young woman that my daughter has become. It was a far cry than what she was when I first met her...

I notice that none of the detectives for Special Victim's Unit are there yet, and I am told by Samantha and the acting officer on the scene to go and check on the child. It is a Caucasian female, who is curled slightly into a fetal position and is lying on her side on a stretcher. Biting my lip, I make my way over towards her, giving her a small smile as I approach.

"Hi, I'm Maggie," I tell her gently. "What's your name?"

"Edythe," she says quietly. "With a 'Y', not an 'I'."

"Well, that's a very pretty name," I tell her. "How old are you?"

"Seven," she says.

"Wow, you're a very big girl," I tell her with a smile. "How are you doing?" I take in her injuries; from what I'd learned about anatomy from peering at my mother's patient notes and Jay-Jay's medical textbooks, she seemed to have some minor head trauma, due to the medium-sized gash on her forehead, which was being treated by the responding EMT's.

"Okay... My head hurts," she said quietly, reaching upwards to touch it.

"No, Edythe, you can't touch it," I tell her gently. "You could get an infection if you touch it—you wouldn't want that, would you?"

She nods, biting her lip, attempting to be brave. "Would you hold my hand, please?" she asks, tears welling in her silver eyes.

I nod, smiling at her. "Of course." I reached out and took her hand; I had minored in psychology, mainly with children, in college, and I knew that it was always good to comfort a child who is in distress. "Better?"

She gives a tiny nod. "Yes."

I give her an encouraging smile. "Good. We want you to be comfortable."

She lowers her eyes. "My mommy was hurt," she says softly.

I raise my eyebrows. "I'm sorry, Edythe, really..."

"She went through the windshield," she whispers. "Glass went everywhere... I got scared, so I crouched behind the seat... Glass is dangerous..."

I nod down at her. "That's right. You could get serious cuts." I hesitate for a moment, but I know that I shouldn't stop her from talking. "Was your mommy driving the car?"

She shakes her head. "Jake was driving," she replies.

"Who's Jake, then?" I ask.

"Mommy's boyfriend," she replies, suddenly not making eye contact with me and picking the side of the canvas on the stretcher; there is a loose thread there, and she seems suddenly very interested in it. "He does bad things..."

"What kind of bad things?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I don't know..."

"Does he call you bad names?" I ask her.

She sighs, then says, "Yes."

I nod. "What kind of bad names does he call you?"

"He calls me 'stupid'," she replies. "That's not nice, is it?"

I shake my head. "No, sweetheart, that's not nice. Does Jake ever call you any other bad names?"

She sighs. "He called me a 'bitch' once," she says, whispering the offending word, almost as if she'll offend me by saying it. "That was before he slammed my head down on the floor."

I nearly pull away from her in shock. "What did Mommy do when he did that?" I ask her, hoping that her mom swooped in to rescue her.

"She laughed, said it was a game," Edythe tells me.

I bite my lip from the nasty comment that threatened to escape my lips. "Is that all Jake ever did to you?"

"No." She shakes her head.

"What else did he do?" She sighs, plaintively. "He started putting his hand down there—" She indicated the area between her legs, "—back when it was close to Halloween." October. "I tried to tell him that I'd tell Mommy, but he said that she wouldn't believe me. I got scared, so I stayed quiet."

"Is that all Jake did?" I manage to get out.

"No." Edythe shakes her head. "He took out his thingy once and told me that it would taste good if I put it in here," she said, pointing to her mouth. "Then when I wouldn't do it, he forced it in me, so I bite it. Blood went everywhere, and I got scared again. Then he took off my pants and put it inside me, between my legs, and it hurt... There was more blood too, and he got madder..."

"Was that the only time Jake hurt you like that?" I ask her.

She shook her head. "No."

"When did he start doing that?"

"Before Christmas, after Thanksgiving," she replies. "I know it was December because Mommy changed the calendar in my bedroom."

I nod. The sick son of a bitch had been abusing his girlfriend's daughter for almost a year and it had gone undetected. Turning around then, I see Elliot and Olivia pulling up, and Elliot has a secret smile for me that Olivia doesn't see. "I have to leave you now, Edythe," I say softly. "But some nice people are going to talk to you, okay?"

"No!" Edythe screams, pulling away from the doctors and throwing her arms around me as Olivia and Elliot step closer.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" I ask as Olivia and Elliot come up behind me. "Are you okay?"

"He'll do it, like Jake," she said, nodding at Elliot.

Olivia, thankfully, steps in. "Well, why don't I sit with you while Maggie goes and talks to Elliot?" she asks, giving me an understanding smile.

"Olivia's really nice," I reply, consolingly, to Edythe. "I promise."

"Is she your friend?" Edythe asks, regarding Olivia warily.

"I... Well," I say, thrown.

"Yes. We are friends," Olivia says, shooting me a smile and going over to be with Edythe. "Go on with Elliot," she says softly to me, and I slip away as Olivia asks Edythe what her favorite color is.

"Get anything out of her besides that kind of trivial information?" Elliot asks, indicating Olivia's question.

I sigh. "Yeah, and it's not good..."

"Well, she's been abused, that's evident," Elliot replies. "Mom's boyfriend?"

I nod. "Yeah, but her mother, too. Her mother knew about it, Elliot. She witnessed it for god's sake!"

"You're kidding," Elliot says. I shake my head. "No. She's witnessed physical abuse—that's what Edythe says. I would seriously bet money that Edythe's mother witnessed Jake raping her, but she's either too scarred or too ashamed to admit it." I turn around and regard Edythe, speaking to Olivia. "She'll get it out of her, right?"

"Olivia's the best," Elliot assures me, then looks me up and down. "You're a lot like her, you know that?"

Of course Elliot suspected, I admonish myself as I make my way back to the squad room after lunch. I receive a text from Hunter as I step in that says that Olivia's adoption of Noah Porter has gone through, and that now he is to be formally known as Noah Porter-Benson. She's having a get-together at her house later that night with Fin, Nick, Amanda, ADA Rafael Barba, and the newest SVU detective, Sonny Carisi. I find that, despite everything, I am glad that Olivia has friends to celebrate with.

Yet I know exactly what to do. After all this time, it has to happen. I head over to her apartment later that night, when I hope that things have died down, and knock on her front door. A peace offering—some blue elephant stuffed animal from a local toy store—is in a bag in my hand, and I feel myself practically shaking as I wait for Olivia to open the door. When she does, I notice the dress she wears is the exact shade of the elephant, and she is shocked at my being there.

"Maggie."

"Can I come in?" I ask.

She smiles tightly. "Of course. Come in." She stands back and lets me pass, and, as I do so, I melt at the sight of Noah, playing with some colored blocks on the living room carpet.

"Hey, little man," I say, kneeling beside him, and feeling utterly pleased when he stares at me with those beautiful eyes of his. "Hi. My name is Maggie, and I know your mommy pretty well." I reach into my bag and show him the elephant. "I got this for you. It's very soft so its tusks won't hurt your face. Would you like to say hello to him?"

Noah smiles a little at the offering and reaches out for the toy, which I promptly hand over to him. He clutches it to him, not wanting to be parted with it, and I find I am pleased at this display of affection. He babbles out a 'thank you' after Olivia tells him to do so, whereupon I turn back to her.

"I know you must be wondering why I'm here..."

"Yeah, a little bit," she replies.

I sigh. "Well, this isn't an easy thing for me to say... It's something I've been sitting on for four years..."

"Let's hear it."

"Well, Don thought that he may be my birth father at one point," I begin. "He ran my DNA through a kinship analysis and it turned out that he was not my biological father."

Olivia sighs. "That's too bad. He's a great guy..."

"But the analysis came up with a biological mother but no father," I say quickly to her, knowing that, if I didn't say it now, I never would. "For four years, I've known who she is, and I can't not tell you anymore."

"You've known?"

"I've known," I reply, "which is why your fostering and adoption of Noah was really hard for me to watch you go through..."

"Maggie..."

"...and I think you know—unconsciously, maybe. I think you've known for a long time..."

"...you're not saying that..."

"I am saying it, Olivia. I've tried to tell you so many times, but I couldn't. I tried to tell you before William Lewis took you that first time; I tried to tell you before you began fostering Noah... So many times these last years, but I just can't not say this to you anymore, Olivia, I..."

"Maggie, slow down..."

"I can't. Not anymore. This has to be said, Olivia Benson." I reach into my handbag and taking out the DNA testing forms. "See? Right there, under biological mother... Do you see what the DNA finds?"

"Olivia Margaret Benson," Olivia reads.

I nod. "Yes... Now do you understand?"

She raises her eyes to mine. "Maggie... It's you..."

I sigh, the weight now lifted completely off my shoulders. "Yes. It's me."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You made a comment once about my birth mother not wanting to be found," I reply softly. "I thought that you were sending me a signal..."

"Sending you a signal?"

"Yes. That you knew, or thought you knew, or something... That you knew and that you didn't want to know..."

"Why wouldn't I want to know?"

"Maybe because you wouldn't have wanted your daughter being a cop?" I ask her quietly. "Maybe because you didn't want to have your daughter putting herself in the exact same dangers you could find yourself in?" I shrug. "I don't know—I'm not in your head."

Olivia smiles. "No. No, you're not."

I sigh. "I'm sorry to just unload on you like this. I hope you can understand why I didn't tell you before..."

She nods. "I get it."

"I won't call you 'Mom'," I tell her quickly. "Not because I have a loyalty to my own mother—believe me, that ship has sailed. But because I don't want people potentially getting the wrong idea..."

"Wrong idea?"

"Well, that maybe you helped me along the way," I reply. "Nepotism runs rampant in jobs, and although I know you put in a good word for me a few times, I don't want your reputation getting ruined."

"Who else knows?"

"Don, of course," I reply. "And Hunter knows, and so does Edythe."

She nods. "Okay." She steps forward then and pulls me into her arms. "I wanted you—of course I wanted you," she says softly. "Although I'll readily admit that I only told people I had a pregnancy scare..."

"It's okay," I whisper, crossing my fingers that I won't choke up completely. "I don't blame you for anything."

"Thank you..." She pulls back, not letting go of my hands. "Well, Maggie, do you want or need anything?"

I sigh. "There is one thing," I say softly.

"Yes?" she asks.

I make sure my eyes meet hers before I permit myself to ask another pivotal question, one that could change everything forever. "Who is my father?" I ask her then, knowing that it could take her years to answer the question, or that she could simply answer it in the blink of an eye.

THE END