This is the last one before the conclusion of what the hell's going on - guesses are STILL welcome with this final clue. This chapter comes with a WARNING for suicidal thoughts and depression.

That being said, I hope all of you guys are doing well.

Amy - I bow down to you. You're a wonderful beta, an even more wonderful friend.

..

"All right, buddy, you be good for Amanda, promise? Sounds like it's going to be a super fun weekend," Elliot tells Noah after double checking if the seatbelt is fastened correctly.

"I promise," the boy agrees excitedly.

Noah's been looking forward to spending the night with Jesse and Frannie all week. They all had agreed that it would be best to get the little one out of the apartment so Olivia could get some rest after the myelogram this afternoon.

"Have fun then. I'll see you Saturday, champ." He ruffles the boy's head of full hair affectionately, smiling at him brightly before closing the door. Amanda stands, leaning against the closed door of the driver's side, arms crossed.

"Thanks for taking him." It is for the best as it seems Olivia's more depressed than ever, even though she tries not to let it show too much when Noah is around.

"No problem. How's Liv holdin' up?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. Never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad she's seeing her therapist and taking something for the depression at least. And at the same time that's scary because… Olivia's taking drugs to help depression. It's…" He shakes his head, trying to comprehend it. "She just needs to see some progress and right now it's…," he exhales and shrugs his shoulders helplessly, glancing up. "I'm not sure there'll be any."

"Hey, we can't think like that. She's… Liv's strong."

"Yeah, I just don't know if she can take any more bad news, which includes no news at all. I should probably… I don't wanna leave her alone for too long. She actually asked me to stay the day before yesterday, and she hasn't told me to leave, so…"

Amanda almost does a double take on him, her blue eyes wide.

"Wow. She didn't even do that after…" It seems she can't manage to speak Lewis' name, so she lets it hang.

It's not hard to imagine that Liv didn't let anybody in, even after surviving her worst nightmare. While he doesn't know much about that time, it still deeply affects him. He should have been there by her side, if not to protect her, then to help her heal. His absence had only broken Olivia more: she's admitted that much. That all she had wanted was him. He wasn't there then but he's here for her now and he's not going to go anywhere. "Yeah, I know."

"Actually, no. You don't," Rollins says, lowering her voice, giving him a pointed look. "You have no idea what hell that animal put her through." Catching her bottom lip between her teeth she shakes her head. "You can never know what it was like for her, for us. The things he did to her?" The corners of her mouth fall and Rollins looks like she'll be sick any second. "You'll never understand."

"I didn't mean-" Elliot's adam's apple jumps as he swallows and he rubs his palm over his jaw. The blonde's usually so blue eyes have clouded beneath the memories. "What I meant to say is I know she doesn't ask for help, so I already figured she didn't then."

He doesn't know much about Rollins or the extent of the relationship between her and Olivia, but he likes that she is wildly protective of Liv. That Liv had-has-people around her who truly cared about her. It doesn't quench the guilt he feels over his absence, but it's reassuring that she wasn't alone.

"I know I should've been there. And I can't make up for the fact that I wasn't, but I am here now, Rollins. I get the hesitation and hostility. I probably deserve it, too. But I hope you can agree that we're all here for Liv and want her to get better. Look, I'm trying to make things right here. But as long as you guys treat me like the plague, I won't have a shot in hell. Not fully."

"So what, you expect us to gush about you now, tell her what a great guy you are just because you're here now?" She raises one brow and steps away from the car door, reaching for the handle. "Fin's right. You really are a piece of work."

For a few long moments he just looks at her, his jaw set. "You know, I fully expected I'd have to work my ass off to redeem myself with Olivia, but this is getting ridiculous."

"What is? That I'm not grateful for the opportunity to go to bat for you?" Amanda says underneath her breath, leaning in a little closer. "You knew and couldn't even be bothered to show up for court, and do you know what's funny? Even there on the stand when that lunatic cross-examined her, taunting her, she still idolized you." She shakes her head, lips pursed as if he's something nasty. "Actually, let me correct myself. It's not funny. It's just… sad."

He scoffs, crossing his arms. "What do you want from me, Rollins? What the hell do you think I should do? You really think there's a second I don't regret I wasn't there for her? You don't know the first thing about my relationship with Liv, and you want to judge?"

"I know she needed you!" she almost shouts at him now, stretching out her arms, then points her finger at his chest as if she's about to poke him. "Because we couldn't do shit for her. She tried so hard to keep it together and prove to everyone, to herself, that she wasn't broken. She wanted you and you were a no-show. And we were all just flailing!" Her voice drops low then, just above a whisper to make sure her words wouldn't carry through the door. "In the hospital? When they finally gave her something to help her sleep? You know, after all the drugs and vodka were out of her system, after her pain had gotten worse and worse for hours while they couldn't give her more than an ibuprofen?" Amanda stresses. "After she was out, she cried out for you. Didja know that? No? I didn't think so. And you know what else? I'll never forget that sound of sheer terror as she begged him-begged him-not to…" She stops and shakes her head, and for a moment she shudders. For a few more seconds her gaze bores into him before she averts her eyes.

Elliot senses that Amanda's not withholding the information on purpose. She can't say them. His stomach plummets, and he thinks he's going to be sick.

Of course he did not know that. Not any of it. His mouth sours, and he desperately swallows, hoping he's not going to throw up on Rollins' shoes. Maybe it's for the best she didn't finish.

He's seen a couple of small scars when she was in the tub and he helped her out, of course. Briefly. One far up her right arm, one very prominent one on the swell of her left breast as she'd reached for the towel he offered. He'd been extra mindful of her state of nakedness and made sure not to look at her body when he could help it. Instead he had focused on Liv's face.

He's not sure what to say.

What is there to say?

For a moment he closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to keep his emotions in check but when he opens them they are full to the brim.

"Of course I didn't," he manages, his voice tight. "And I'll never forgive myself for it. And I don't want your forgiveness, but I need hers."

"Look around, Stabler. When she needed you, it was us she got. Now that we should be by her side, you are. You've already got it," she says with a slight eye roll. "She already forgave you. Lord knows why after you treated her like less than nothing."

While he's never cared for anyone's approval, he has a feeling playing nice with Rollins, Fin and Carisi is key. They are all looking out for Liv and to her they are basically family - the only kind she knows. He once used to be part of that. Now it feels like he's on his own.

"I guess I deserve that. Just so we're clear - I do care for her. And I'm not gonna go anywhere so… for Liv's sake, I'd like it if we got along." He nods his head towards the backseat where Noah is. "And for this little guy, who shouldn't see us fighting over his mom."

"Look," Rollins says slightly exasperated. "I know you care for her or else you wouldn't be with her through all of this. And I'm glad she has someone who takes her to her appointments and helps out with everything else. I appreciate that. I know Liv needs that." She pauses, and it seems she only grudgingly adds: "I know she needs you. But if you hurt her, Stabler, I swear, I am going to hunt you down, rip off your balls, and feed them to Frannie for breakfast."

He grins a little smugly as Rollins keeps staring at him like she's dead serious. "Understood," he says with a simple nod.

…

Olivia's not feeling well. It has nothing to do with the pressure she feels in her lower back after the dye injection earlier. That pain is bearable. The leg's acting up a lot, but she can hardly be bothered about that, either. It's bigger. That nagging depression that's letting her feel sticky despair. It feels inescapable. She feels like crying, but tears don't come, not even now when she no longer cares if Elliot sees them.

She's talked to Lindstrom yesterday, and his assessment was that she wasn't a high suicide risk. He seemed worried, though, and they put together a crisis plan with things that might help distract her, people to call if the thoughts get overwhelming. With Noah gone for the night she purposely didn't ask Elliot to leave, scared to be completely alone. In certain moments these thoughts… they get oppressively loud. The more Olivia tries not to think about it, even telling herself not to, the more prominent they are.

She thinks of pills or the weight of her gun in her hand but at the latter her mind instantly flashes to the gut-wrenching plummeting of her stomach as Lewis made her hold one to her head in a game of Russian roulette. She thinks of Lewis' blood and brains splattered all over her. She thinks of Lauren Cooper and the blood pattern on that wall, and she flinches. It's so… messy. It doesn't seem peaceful at all.

It's funny how much thought she's putting into this, making her wonder if other people weigh their options, too. It shouldn't really matter how one dies, should it? And yet Olivia knows she's not going to eat a gun or hang herself.

She swallows and shakes her head hard, and finally there's the sound of the key in the door that allows her not to wonder how Elliot would react upon walking into her bathroom to find her pale, lifeless body in a tub full of crimson-colored water.

They say, depending on how deeply you cut, it'll take about ten minutes until your heart stops beating. Two or less if you hit the radial artery. Thing is, hardly anyone cuts deep enough to die from it as it hurts immensely. She wonders if pain would make her stop because she's so used to it. It can't possibly be worse than her leg, can it? As Elliot walks in, and she sees his face, she can legitimately hear her heart breaking for him.

I can't do that to him.

And she won't, she thinks. That's why she needs him to stay. She clings to the crisis plan and the reasons she's written down that life's still worth it. Noah. The people that care about her like El, Rollins, Fin and Carisi. Noah. The very slim chance that maybe, one day, she'll get better.

She'd promised Lindstrom she wouldn't hurt herself, and unlike her mother, she cares a great deal about keeping promises.

As much as she's flirting with the options - she can't leave Noah. Not by choice. Not when she made a promise to him last night as she crawled into his bed, breathing in his innocent scent. She needs to stick around for him, needs to try. Because that is what he deserves. Not a mother who's completely resigned. Now she only needs to figure out how to make the thoughts of a way out stop.

„He's so excited to see Frannie."

Elliot. At least for as long as he's here she'll be distracted. She shifts, trying to find a position that feels bearable. The backache doesn't help things.

"You want a pillow for that?"

"I doubt that's gonna help," Olivia grimaces. It's 4:50. Another hour until she can finally take her pills. A nurse had informed her about the side effects of the dye injection. Backaches, headaches, nausea and vomiting were the most likely complications after the procedure. She does feel a little queasy now that she thinks about it.

"Maybe some heat will help? Do you have a heating pad?"

"Ah… no. A cherry pit pillow… somewhere." It draws a laugh from Elliot, a sound, it seems she hasn't heard in ages. For a brief moment it makes her feel a little better.

"A what? And somewhere?"

"It's… cherry pits and flax seeds, I think. Works like a rice sock." Olivia sees his confusion, probably wondering why she didn't just use a rice pillow then. "I was on a bit of an eco- and sustainability trip for a while there," she explains. His confusion turns to obvious amusement.

"Like your strange obsession with tea and tea flowers after Oregon, huh?"

She's surprised he remembers that, thinking if she felt any better a smile would flit across her face.

"Yeah. Something like that. We haven't used it much. Noah was still a toddler then, I think. It's Probably in the bathroom? Or somewhere in the linen closet."

"Want me to look for it?"

"Nah. My back's manageable." Elliot's eyes settle on her trembling leg and his face turns darker as he comes to sit next to her. "This isn't," she admits.

"Another hour," he says and it comes out gruffly. So, he's counting down the hours, too.

"Hm," she agrees through gritted teeth as the tremors almost make her foot lift off the ground.

He touches his hand to her wrist and his thumb strokes her gently.

"It's okay, Liv," he mutters. If he's trying to soothe her or tell her she can let it out, she has no idea but beneath his hand her own turns into a fist. It takes a couple of minutes until she relaxes and her breath returns to normal. For a while they are both silent but she can see Elliot watching her.

"You're not doing so well, are you?" His voice is low and gravelly, and Olivia senses he's not talking about the leg or the pain. Slowly she turns her head to look at him briefly, finding him a lot more serious than she has in the past couple of days. Lowering her head she fiddles with her fingers.

"It's that obvious, huh?" She hears him swallow as he shifts his body.

"Kind of," he says. "I've been there, Liv. I know what depression looks like. What it feels like to be… tired of life."

Slowly Olivia nods. After what feels like a very long time she finally speaks. "It feels like…," she exhales shakily, trying to find words. "the meds aren't working. With the anxiety maybe but…"

"I get it," he whispers. She is not sure he really does, though. Or how much she can confide in him without freaking him out to the point he wants her in a padded room for her own protection.

"I doubt that," she whispers back. Afraid to look him in the eye, she keeps her focus on her hands. How could he possibly know she asked him to stay with her so she won't be tempted to do something stupid? That she's at a point where she doesn't trust herself, her own words, her whispered promises to Noah?

"There was a time," he starts slowly and pauses for a while. "where I sat every night. Trying to find just one reason besides my kids, not to eat my gun." As he speaks Olivia's heart starts racing and she presses her eyes shut. He'd insinuated something like it when they spoke a few months ago, but she didn't think he'd ever spell it out for her. The realization makes her hold her breath. "I never found one," he croaks. "Trying to cling to something only made me see all the reasons it would be better if I was gone."

She can feel his eyes on her. Beneath his intense gaze heat gets trapped underneath her skin. She can't speak but nods as she feels the familiar burn of tears behind her closed eyes.

"I didn't tell anyone. I didn't feel like I could."

Olivia lets her head drop forward, tears sliding down her cheeks when she finally opens her eyes.

"I don't want you to feel that way, Liv," he breathes into her hair, taking her hand. "Like you're alien or like… no-one will understand." She sniffles and wipes at her tears with her free hand. "Hey. Hey, Liv," he says, and she thinks it's to get her full attention. Slowly she lifts her head to look at him, albeit hesitantly. His blue eyes are comforting in a way she didn't expect. "It's fucked up to feel like that. But it's also okay because this will pass. I promise you won't always feel that way," he says with softly-spoken conviction that makes the tears fall faster. She does feel alien. She does feel like nobody could possibly understand and it's a very lonely place to be in. One she isn't sure she can escape.

"If this procedure isn't going to to be conclusive either, I just-," Liv's voice cracks and she takes a few shaky breaths. "I don't know how to go on like this. I'm r-really trying."

"I know you are. I know that. But no matter what, Liv? This isn't the end. Doctor Willem-Vasquez will keep going. She said she would. That this was just one of the less invasive tests they could do." He sounds like that is actually a good thing.

"And what's next, El? They're gonna cut me open to see if they can figure this out?" The question seems to throw him because suddenly he's awfully quiet. "I don't know how much longer I can take this. I know I won't ever be the same but this? How am I supposed to live like this?" It's funny how she has become used to her left leg being useless. At this point she just wants the pain to go away.

"Liv," Elliot mumbles, his arm snaking around her to pull her closer. "you just gotta hold on for a bit longer. Okay? I can see how hard that is for you, but you've only been seeing this doctor for what? Six, seven weeks? You need to give her some time."

"That's just the thing," she whimpers. "It feels like I'm running out of time. It gets unbearable, El. I never thought I'd have these thoughts of… what the quickest way would be. Or the safest. And I don't know what's going to happen in a month or two from now. What if I get even worse? I am holding on but it's so, so hard, Elliot. I can't even pick up my son when he's crying. I mean, let's be honest here, if you weren't here, I couldn't take care of him or all the chores. I'm one step away from assisted living," she cries desperately. "I can pretend I don't need you around here all I want - but we both know you were right saying I'm no longer capable of anything. But you can only be here so long. Eventually you'll need to focus on other things or...or you'll find someone and then what am I and Noah going to do?"

"No. Liv, no. Listen to me," he urges, gently holding her chin up with his thumb and index-finger, so she has no choice but to look at him. "That's not going to happen, you hear me. I promise you I am not going anywhere. You, Noah and Eli? That's my priority." He sounds sincere. She can't detect even a hint of insincerity or hesitation, so he seems to actually believe that. But this is temporary. Why would he put his life on hold for her? He has work, his kids. And there'll come the day when he'll meet someone and date, and no woman is going to put up with his overly-dependent project and her son.

"You have no idea what you mean to me, do you?" he says just above a whisper, his brows drawn together.

Honestly? At this point she doesn't. She used to think she knew but after he left and ghosted her she wonders if any of that was real, or if it was all in her head. So slowly she shakes her head, looking away

"Well, I guess that's entirely on me then." Elliot lets go of her chin and when her eyes find his in confusion, his intense gaze burns like the sun. She thinks she sees a pain in the blue depths that she knows, the kind she felt losing him, the one that never truly went away. When the muscles of her left leg start to twitch and harden she tears her eyes away. Her face screws up and that's it with the conversation because within thirty seconds her pain is escalating like it does more and more often.

Olivia can hardly eat, but forces a few bites of the dinner Elliot fixes down to make her pills more digestible. It's a peculiar cocktail of pain, anxiety, and depression meds. Not feeling confident that the pain will get much better despite an upped dose of Percocet for the night, Olivia curls up in her bed with gritted teeth. It's about an hour until Elliot comes in with a bottle of water and a mug of herbal tea. He sits on the edge of her mattress, carefully pushing a couple of strands of unruly hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"Still not better?" he asks worriedly. She shakes her head, allowing a small sound to escape. Her body is tense and shaking. It's been two hours and she doesn't get much of a break. There is no getting comfortable and the pain drives her crazy to the point she wants to rip that damned leg off herself.

"Damn," he hisses underneath his breath. "Do you want some tea?"

"Mm-uh. Can't," she manages. "Gonna throw up again." It happened last week already. The pain is making her nauseous and apparently her stomach starts to rebel even from fluids.

She feels the mattress shift beneath her when she assumes Elliot stands up, instead he climbs over her rolled up body without touching her and spoons her. He wraps an arm around her and scoots as close as possible, not leaving even half an inch of space between their bodies. He buries his face in her hair, his lips grazing the base of her skull for a second or two.

"It's all right," he mumbles. "Can you try to breathe with me?" At the suggestion she automatically holds her breath again, not sure if it's going to work. Helplessly she clutches his wrist but nods.

"Okay. Here we go. Slow, deep breath in," he guides and does so himself, holding it for a few seconds. "And out."

It takes a good while until she gets into the right rhythm, but when she does, it helps a little bit.

"That's it, there you go, Liv," Elliot encourages her. She doesn't know for how long he's been doing this with her. When another wave of pain subsides her body relaxes, and her steady breathing pattern collapses.

"I can't… again…," she manages wearily, tears of exhaustion rising quickly.

"I know. I'm sorry, honey. I'm right here."

Whimpering she presses her face into the pillow, trying not to start sobbing, to pull herself together because this is not the end of it.

"I've only been in this much pain once before," she admits desperately. "And I couldn't escape then, either." Clearly she is not completely rational, or else she wouldn't let this slip. She can feel Elliot stiffen against her. When Elliot speaks his voice is throaty.

"What did that bastard do to you?"

She can't tell him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But there is something that has been going through her head for weeks now and she wants to get it off her chest.

"On the last day," she starts, heartbeat racing. "He said to me that he could always smell a victim," she speaks into the quiet of the room. "And he was right." The corners of her mouth drop. "Just not quite in the way he thought. I was held hostage or at gunpoint how many times?" She asks, scoffing before she groans softly as another wave of impending pain rolls over her. "Then Harris… Lewis. Now this," she whispers. "It's in me. In my DNA. None of it will ever end," she says shakily, then whimpers.

"That's not true, Liv. You can't let him get inside your head."

"He already is," comes her defeated reply. "He made damn sure he would be." He'd quite literally carved and burned himself into her skin, her brain, ready for permanent residency. Lindstrom had told her countless times that Lewis couldn't hurt her anymore if she wouldn't let him but that's not true. She's tried so damned hard. For years. And still it all comes back to him. In dreams he meets her for vicious and cruel conversations, his breath in her face, his weight pressing down on her.

Again her body convulses. Elliot automatically pulls her closer again, holding her. "You should take something to help you sleep," he encourages, but she insistently shakes her head no. "Please, Liv. This is scaring me, and you need a break. You deserve a break and some sleep. I know it won't make the pain go away but if it helps even a little-," he pleads with her. "You shouldn't have to endure this, Liv."

Pressing her eyes shut she tries to find things to say to prove she doesn't need anything, but the truth is, she does. Badly. "F-fine," she agrees. He sits up and reaches to her nightstand to help fix her medication, but she shakes her head and swallows, knowing one more Percocet won't do much. She's been there and done that. "In my dresser. Top drawer in… in the far back."

Wordlessly he gets up. Although he doesn't say a word she can tell when he finds the small plastic bag with the two remaining joints. He closes the drawer, and she wonders if he has an opinion.

"Does that help?"

Well, at least that question is non-judgemental.

"It takes the edge off," she admits and groans quietly. "But I don't like it." The tingling of her entire body, that feeling of not being completely in control, the smell, the offensive smoke burning in her lungs - if it weren't for the benefits of calming her anxiety and the excruciating pain, she'd never touch that stuff again. But it can give her the break she so desperately needs.

"Okay," Elliot says calmly. "Where do you keep a lighter?"

"There are matches in the kitchen cupboard, the one on the…"

"Yeah, I know. I know." He sounds distracted and disappears for a moment, returning with matches and a saucer for lack of an ashtray. Squinting her eyes a few times, Olivia slowly moves to sit up against the headboard as Elliot opens the window wide, and a chill creeps across her skin.

It's a strange feeling, taking a joint out of the bag and having Elliot watch her. She chances a glance at him, almost surprised not to see his jaw all tense. She had made a conscious decision not to tell him about the pot, convinced it'd piss off Mr. Holier-Than-Thou for sure.

"So… how'd you get that?" He takes a match and lights it for Olivia as she puts the spliff between her lips. She takes a few careful puffs to light the joint, coughing two times as the smoke settles in her lungs.

"Does that matter?" Olivia asks quietly. She doesn't wanna rat Fin out, even if Elliot doesn't seem to have a problem with it now. His ass is on the line for distribution, so she'll be damned to give it away.

"Not really." He sits back down on the side of the bed, and watches her breathe in another cloud of smoke. A few drags more and she feels the first effects. Her body fully relaxes after being tension-ridden with pain for hours and it's not even the peak yet. Fin had assured her it's good stuff. Olivia closes her eyes and rests her head back. "Can you put that out, please?" She asks, holding the joint out to him.

"Sure. I suppose it's working?"

"Hm-hm," she mumbles and opens her eyes, looking at him. The light cast across the room by the small night-lamp seems much brighter all of sudden.

"Good. That's… I'm glad."

"Yeah?" She asks, feeling her mouth stretching out. It feels funny and unfamiliar. She wonders if that's what it felt like to smile. "I dead-ass thought you'd have a meltdown over it." She grins at Elliot crookedly, and he looks very, very soft as he nods at her.

"That sounds like me, doesn't it?"

"I'm thirsty."

Before she knows it a small bottle of water appears before her and she takes it, taking a couple of healthy sips.

"El?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," she says, looking directly at him, but everything starts to feel a little fuzzy. In a good way. A way she won't approve of later, when the drug wears off.

…

When she wakes her body feels incredibly heavy. Not even her eyelids want to comply with her, only opening hesitantly. It's one thing to wake up tired and exhausted, but another entirely to feel like she's entangled in a spider web. It's dark in the room. The curtains are drawn. She is in her bed but something feels… different. Not quite right. Slowly, Olivia rubs a hand over her face. Her mouth is drier than the Mojave desert.

Snippets of the previous night come to her. Elliot holding her. Her telling him bits and pieces about Lewis.

Lewis.

She didn't dream of him. At least she can't remember anything. Turns out the pot is good for something, indeed.

Speaking of the positive effects of pot, even now she's pretty much pain-free. Ha! How's that for a change. For a few moments she doesn't dare move, afraid she could jinx it, that her leg will teach her better. She takes a few conscious breaths, deep breaths that actually feel like they reach her lungs, and it feels wonderful. It's like she hasn't truly taken a proper breath in months.

Suddenly she feels energized. Well, her mind certainly does, because her hands still feel somewhat heavy with sleep as she tosses back the covers and braces against the mattress to sit up. Still, no pain. But when she tries to swing her legs out of bed, there's no movement, either.

They don't budge.

"What…" she whispers in confusion, giving it another try. There's only slight discomfort in her lower back. With an open palm, she slaps her right thigh. There is just a hint of sensation and, panicked, Olivia's eyes widen. She does it again, harder this time, her breath becoming erratic.

"No… no. Elliot?" she mutters, but he can't possibly hear her like this. She takes a few more breaths, realizing she's not feeling anything from her waist down except the backache. "Elliot!"

Oh oh. Now what the hell is going on? Reviews and PMs are highly appreciated.