Chapter 21

Maybe you don't belong in this unit.

Olivia stared straight ahead of her and allowed the numbness to settle over her again. She was not going to cry. She refused to cry. A drop of water teetered precariously at the edge of the faucet before finally giving out, disturbing the sanctity of the placid water around her.

Olivia drew her knees in to her chest to block out the deafening sound. A second drip followed as if mocking her. She pushed back the tendrils of hair matted around her face and buried her chin in her knees.

Why a married man?

Olivia drew her head up slowly, her eyes settling on the pill bottle at the edge of the bathtub. Her head was pounding. God, she just needed her head to stop pounding. Olivia allowed her eyes to slide closed and blindly reached for the bottle. Her hands were trembling as she threw her head back and let the pills slide down her throat. She didn't even bother to count how many. She didn't care. All she needed was Elliot's voice in her head to go away.

Why throw all of your values away for some idiot who could care less about you?

He had been married.

Olivia swallowed hard. He had been married, and she didn't even know who he was. She had spent ten and half years preserving the sanctity of a marriage that at times had ceased to exist only to throw it all away. And she didn't even know his name. She had never asked if he was married. Hell, she'd never even asked for his name. She hadn't wanted to know. She hadn't wanted to pretend that he had been real. A real person with real needs. A real person who could hurt. A real person who could love. She had needed pure anonymity. And now because of that, some woman out there was hurting. Some woman out there was going through the devastating loss of her own marriage, and it was all her fault.

Her fault. Olivia's fault.

She was officially the other woman. Olivia closed her eyes. How could Elliot ever forgive her for what she had done? How could she ever explain it to him? She opened her eyes again. It didn't matter. She didn't deserve his forgiveness. She didn't deserve his understanding. And he'd made it damn clear he wasn't going to stick around to hear her try to explain.

It was over. Her. Elliot. The fights. The tears. The laughter. The job. Everything she'd ever known, ever trusted. It was all over. She had been the one to drive him away just as she had always known she would. She had wanted…no, she had needed to be different from every victim.

But he had known. He had known that she wasn't different. He had seen within her—seen her weakness, seen her vulnerability. He had seen all of it. And when the truth was exposed, she had been the one to fall, the one to falter. She had been the one to shatter every semblance of moral fiber that had ever existed within her.

There was no way to get up from that.

Another droplet fell from the faucet. And then another. Olivia drew her eyes up slowly to watch the wake it left behind. Each one shattered the silence around her in time with the pounding of her heart. Olivia reached forward to pull the drain and watched it disappear. She watched the filth and dirt swirl around her, and yet she realized there was no way to escape it. It was still a part of her. And no matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn't change that.

Olivia drew herself to her feet slowly. Through the cloudy haze surrounding her, she somehow managed to get dressed, somehow managed to propel her feet forward. She needed to get out of the bathroom. She couldn't breathe in here. It was suffocating. Her thoughts were suffocating. Elliot's voice was suffocating. She needed them all to go away.

If you still need me to tell you how often women are re-victimized...

Olivia sank into the couch and her fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle still lying out in the middle of the coffee table. How could she ever explain to Elliot that it was all ready too late for that? How could she ever tell him that she had no idea what consent was anymore?

She tipped back the bottle in her hand, and for the first time, Olivia finally felt something. The liquid burned as it slid down her throat. She needed it. She needed something just to get her through the night. Just to get her one step closer to the unknown—to a trial whose only punishment was far easier to bear than the alternative. Than the acceptance that there was no job, no family, no friends, no Elliot to ever go back to again. There was nothing left now. There was no one left now.

Olivia threw back the rest of the bottle of vodka and reached for the other one beside it. She hated vodka—she always had. But now she needed it. She needed something familiar. Something she recognized—even if it was nothing more than memories of a drunken Serena Benson holding her close. It was something. And she needed that right now.

And that was when she heard it. It started softly, and quickly grew louder—each drop a little bit louder than the last until suddenly it overpowered every one of her thoughts, every memory that she had left to cling to. Olivia didn't realize she'd thrown the empty bottle until she heard it shattering against the wall across from her. And that's when finally, she let the first tear begin to fall.


"What are you doing here?"

Fin propped the door open in front of him and crossed his arms over his chest. "Seriously, it's a quarter after midnight. What the hell are you doing here?"

Elliot sighed. He glanced over his shoulder as if someone might magically appear behind him and explain his presence at Fin's apartment in the middle of the night. He pushed his way through the open door and walked past Fin to take a seat on his couch. "You were right," he muttered over his shoulder.

Fin allowed the door to fall shut behind him and narrowed his eyes as he followed Elliot back into his living room. "You came here in the middle of the night to tell me I was right?" he demanded incredulously.

Elliot closed his eyes. "Don't make me repeat that."

Fin smirked back at him in response. "I would but somethin' tells me if I do, we might be here all night. So for the sake of actually getting some sleep, what was I right about?"

Elliot turned to him in confusion. "You weren't really going to bed at midnight, were you? I thought you had some exciting nightlife to come home to every night?"

Fin grunted in response. "Trust me, my nightlife isn't nearly as exciting as it was before I took this job."

Elliot nodded. "Before this job, or before this case?"

Fin glared back at him. "I'll let you know when I wanna talk about my personal life," he returned. He sighed. "So what's up?"

"I completely blew up at her," Elliot admitted quietly. He raised his head to meet Fin's eyes. "I've never blown up at a victim before so why the hell did I blow up at her?"

Fin raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want me to answer that?" he countered skeptically.

Elliot sighed. "No." He leaned back and closed his eyes. "No, I don't."

Fin shifted uncomfortably. "Look, Elliot. The problem is you don't wanna see her as a victim so you're tryin' to keep her from acting like one. And it's not gonna work. As much as none of us want to admit it, that's what she is. And it's gonna take time for her to work through that."

Elliot opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling for a long time. Finally he lowered his head to meet Fin's eyes. "Just tell me," he started quietly. He swallowed hard. "Just tell me how bad it was?"

Fin returned his steady gaze for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "I can't do that, Elliot. It's not my place to tell." He sighed. "Talk to her. I mean isn't that what you two do in the middle of the night?"

A small smile slowly pulled at the corner of Elliot's lips. "Yeah," he admitted quietly, "Yeah, we do."

Fin nodded. "Good, then I can get some sleep." As Elliot stood up to leave, Fin hesitated. "Wait a minute. What was I right about?"

Elliot groaned. "About me questioning Daniel and Terry. I was too pissed after talking to Daniel to even try talking to Terry."

Fin sighed. "Please tell me you at least remembered to ask about Olivia's Glock?"

Elliot drew his head up guiltily. "That was the next question I was going to ask before he kicked me out," he managed weakly.

Fin rolled his eyes. "Oh, this is great. Do I have to do everything myself?" he muttered under his breath. He nudged Elliot towards the door. "Look, we'll deal with the case in the morning. Just…go talk to her."


Alex rubbed her eyes and turned back toward the glowing numbers beside her. She blinked hard and reached for the phone on the nightstand beside her. Her fingers instinctively dialed the number she had committed to heart, and she paused as she waited for a response. It took four rings before he picked up.

"Cragen."

Alex hesitated and almost slammed the phone back down on its cradle. She drew in a shaky breath and finally found her voice. "Don, it's Alex."

His voice sounded slightly amused. "Yeah, I know. That's what caller ID is for. What's going on, Alex?"

She let her eyes slide closed and leaned back into the mountain of pillows behind her. She nudged her computer aside and drew her knees in to her chest. "Don, the trial starts tomorrow, and I…I need a reality check." There was silence on the other end of the line. Alex bit her lip nervously. "Don," she ventured softly.

Another prolonged silence followed before finally she heard his breathing resume on the other end of the line. "Alex," he began quietly. "If there's anyone I trust on this case, it's you."

She sighed. "I know, it's just…I've been away from a courtroom for so long. Maybe it was a mistake for me to take on her case. Don, we can't afford to lose. I mean what happens if she's convicted?"

"Alex, you don't have to do this on your own," Cragen assured her softly. His breathing was quiet and even on the other end of the line as he struggled for a response. "I know it doesn't seem like it now, but she's at the end of the docket tomorrow so we still have a few more hours of work before the trial starts. We'll find something." He paused. "Alex, do you remember what you told me when you first started in this unit?"

"That I intended to stand on your shoulders to reach a broader constituency. " Alex let out an exasperated sigh. "Why does that matter now?"

"It matters because I haven't been giving you anything to stand on, Alex. And I'm sorry. You can't do your job without our help, and we've all been too concerned with everything else that's going on to be able to give you something to work with."

"Don, I'm not blaming you."

Cragen sighed. "Yeah, I know, Alex. And to be honest, that's what has me worried. Maybe we needed you blaming us this time.

"Determining who's at fault here is not going to get us anywhere, Don. We need to start working together." Alex hesitated. "All of us. Because right now, we're just going in circles. And that's what the prosecution is counting on because when we get in that courtroom tomorrow, it's not just Olivia that's going to be on trial."

"You're right," Cragen agreed softly. He took a deep breath. "It's going to be all of us."

Elliot stared down at his phone. There was still no response. He traced his way back to the car, leaning up against the hood as he stared back up at the light still on in her apartment.

"Goddamn it, Olivia. Pick up the damn phone."

Silence was his only answer.

Elliot glanced back down at his watch and squinted to read the numbers with only the shimmer of moonlight to guide him—1:28 am. It was late, but not that late. There was no way she was sleeping tonight. He knew her better than that. Which could only mean she was pissed. She was pissed, and she was ignoring his calls.

"Are you the police?"

Elliot drew his gaze up slowly and stared at the young man in front of him. He nodded silently. "Detective Elliot Stabler," he managed quietly, flashing his badge with a sigh.

"It's about time someone got here. I called twenty-five minutes ago."

Elliot's head snapped up. "Called about what?"

"The ruckus upstairs. Apartment 2F—that is why you're here, right?"

Elliot didn't bother to answer. He pushed past the startled man and took the stairs two at a time. When he got outside her apartment, he banged on the door. There was no response. Just before he kicked the door in, it occurred to him that Olivia had given him a spare key in the event of an emergency. He reached for his keys, frantically searching for the one to her apartment. As soon as he pushed the door open, it stalled. Elliot hesitated. Through the narrow opening, he could see the chain lock keeping it from opening further.

Olivia had never had a chain lock on her door. Panic gripped him. With one swift kick to the door, it swung open. His eyes scanned the apartment, and he half expected to hear her bark out some snide retort. But there was nothing. No answer. No response.

"Liv." His voice was hesitant, unsure. He swallowed hard and took a step inside. And that was when he saw her. She was crumpled on the floor in the living room, the shattered remains of a vodka bottle beside her. "Oh, God, Liv. Olivia!"

In an instant, he was at her side. His eyes quickly scanned the living room, and he took in a second bottle across the room from her. He reached for the radio at his belt. "SVU to Manhattan Central. I need a bus at 203 West 85th Street." He knelt down beside her, gently rolling her over on her side and pulling her closer to his chest. He was relieved to hear her shallow breathing. "Liv. Liv, don't do this to me now," he pleaded. "Please. Liv, just tell me you can hear me. Just tell me that you know…" He drew in a shaky breath and his voice dropped down to a whisper. "Just tell me that you know I didn't mean it."