NOTES: This chapter definitely came out a lot more bittersweet than I had expected but I kinda like it that way. I wanted this chapter to not only bridge the events between coming home and the next and final chapter but to also explore the process of healing and to look at how I think this trauma would affect Olivia's relationship with not only Rafael but also with herself. I sincerely hope I did this justice. Read on...

It was only fitting that it would rain on her first day of therapy.

Olivia had always had mixed feelings about rain. On the one hand, rain had always meant canceled plans, the uncomfortable chill of wet jeans and squishy shoes, the inconvenience of slippery floors. But on the other... Well, Olivia couldn't help but love the relaxing sound of rain hitting a car window, couldn't help but love the imagery of rain washing away the dirt and grime of the city, couldn't help but love that it felt as if the universe were pressing reset on the world for just a moment, allowing for the opportunity to start anew.

So yeah. It was only fitting that it would rain on her first day of therapy.

As the car parked, Olivia didn't move and continued to stare out at the rain. Her eyes followed the gradual descent of a singular water droplet slowly making its way down the window before the sound of Rafael clearing his throat broke the spell. Olivia jumped and tore her eyes from the window to look at him as he spoke.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" he asked quietly.

Olivia shook her head. "No, I need to do this alone."

"Okay. I'll be here for you when you're done," he said softly, taking her hand and gently running his thumb across her smooth skin.

Olivia gave him a small smile, "I know. Thank you." She sucked in a deep breath that did nothing for her nerves and squeezed his hand before opening the car door. She blinked as rain hit her face, cold and bracing. Before she left, she turned back to look at Rafael. As their eyes met, warmth bloomed in her chest and she gave a short nod. She was ready.

Nothing about the women sitting across from her should have caused Olivia to feel so hostile and yet she did. Maybe it was the way Dr. Stanton's hand hadn't trembled when she'd held it out to her while Olivia's had shaken like a leaf, her palms clammy and cold. Or maybe it was the ease in which Dr. Stanton had smiled at her when she introduced herself, so confident and calm, while Olivia had to force what she was sure was an awful grimace, her stomach too knotted up for a proper greeting. Or maybe it actually had nothing to do with her department-issued therapist at all and instead everything to do with the fact that she did NOT want to talk about her goddamn feelings any more than she wanted to talk about what happened in that goddamn shack.

"So… Detective Benson," Dr. Stanton said once she was properly settled into her chair, "Why don't we start with why you've come in today?"

Olivia suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "Do you watch the news, Dr. Stanton?" she asked dryly.

She nodded slowly, "Yes, I do."

Olivia laced her fingers together and leaned back in her chair. "Then you know why I'm here."

"I may know what led you here but I don't necessarily know why you're here," Stanton countered, "For all I know, you could just be here because the department required it of you."

Olivia let out a deep sigh, "Fine. I'm here because I want to move past all this," she said gesturing vaguely towards her head.

Dr. Stanton nodded, her expression unreadable. "Did the receptionist tell you what to expect for this first session?" she asked abruptly.

Olivia shook her head and Stanton smiled and shook hers too as if she should've expected that. "That's what I thought. Have you ever been to therapy before?"

"Not one-on-one like this."

"Good to know," Dr. Stanton jotted something down before leaning forward, her hands beginning to move as she explained, "Okay, so this first session is going to be pretty different than what a normal session would look like. This first session is dedicated to getting to know each other, figuring out what needs you'd like us to address, and getting an idea of what sort of things you know work for you."

Olivia nodded slowly and sat up a bit to listen.

"In order to do this," Stanton stated, "I'll be asking you questions about your home life, about any symptoms you may be experiencing, as well as other various questions about your past. But," she added, "I want to stress that you don't have to answer anything you don't want to."

Thank god. Some of the tension in Olivia's shoulders melted away. "That's good."

Dr. Stanton gave a hum of agreement before continuing. "Finally, we'll end today's session by coming up with a plan of how we'd like to go forward if that's what you'd like to do." Stanton paused to let the information sink in. When Olivia didn't speak, she pushed forward. "Now before we begin do you have any questions for me? As much as this is about me getting to know you, this is also about you getting to know me."

Olivia shook her head rapidly, "No I, um, I'm good."

"Okay then." Dr. Stanton clasped her hands together with a determined expression that simultaneously made Olivia nervous and assured. Her enthusiasm was definitely off-putting but at least she seemed to know what she was doing. "I suppose we'll get started whenever you're ready Detective."

"I suppose we will."

And they did. They touched on almost everything as Olivia sat there and answered question after question after question. It felt like Stanton had put her entire life under a microscope in the span of 2 hours and fuck it sucked. By the time they were finished, Olivia was drained, her head was pounding, and her nerves were shot. She left with her shoulders glued to her ears and the echoes of Dr. Stanton's "professional opinion" in her ears. "It seems like you're dealing with a lot right now. I think we should plan to meet three times a week." For a second there, Olivia had thought she was joking. Three times a week?! Fuck that. Olivia scoffed as she looked up to the cloudy and darkened sky and pulled her phone out of her pocket to call Rafael. As she dialed his number, she shook her head. Three times a week... That just seems excessive! Surely they would run out of things to talk about.

But they didn't.

Unsurprisingly, it took an entire session to work through the details of her kidnap and despite her mental preparation, Olivia still left exhausted after having reluctantly looked over the statement she'd given to 1PP, adding supplementary comments here and there as she desperately tried not to cry. To her surprise, Dr. Stanton hadn't pushed her for details or given her any of the pity she'd been expecting. Instead, she'd given Olivia some surprisingly helpful grounding exercises for the next time she had a flashback.

"And if that doesn't work," Dr. Stanton added, "it may be helpful to hold onto something cold, like a cold water bottle, or maybe some ice, and just focus on the way it feels in your hand."

Olivia let out a dry laugh. "So you're telling me when I smashed my ice tray onto the kitchen floor the other day, I could've just picked up one of the ice cubes and that would've helped? Great!"

Stanton smiled indulgently, "Well it wouldn't be instantaneous, but yes, it might've helped. The purpose of these exercises is to get you focused on your reality through your five senses, to pull you out of those invasive memories."

"I know," Olivia said, waving her hand, "But that still would've been nice to know."

She'd been expecting something radically different for her third session, especially after the focus on her kidnap the last session but instead, they had talked about Rafael. First about her guilt surrounding his prolonged stay at her apartment and second—Olivia had broken down in tears at that point—about his cufflinks. More specifically, about the conversation, she and Rafael had had about it the night before. That night, she'd told Stanton, Olivia had woken with a cry, her heart pounding as sweat poured down her back.

"I was—I was gasping," Olivia's hands rose distractedly towards her neck, "I could just... feel his hands on my neck."

Dr. Stanton nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"I must've woken Rafael up. He, uh, he didn't look very surprised to find me there," Olivia said with a self-deprecating half-smile.

"Do you have nightmares often?" Stanton asked softly.

"Yeah." She paused, staring down at her hands before she shook herself out of it. "Anyways, I told him to go back to sleep, but he wouldn't. He's a stubborn son of a bitch," she said fondly, her lips twitching upwards. Dr. Stanton chuckled. "But yeah, he kept saying my name in that—that voice of his." Olivia's eyes welled with tears as her voice shook. "He was so good about it, I still can't believe it. He'd just held out his arms and we laid there together until I'd stopped shaking."

"Did you guys talk about it?"

Olivia nodded, "Yeah. After a while, he asked if I wanted to talk. Normally, I'd never but I actually said yes. I don't know. Maybe it was the way he was playing with my hair..."

Stanton frowned. "You speak of it as if it was a bad thing. Talking about it."

Olivia sighed deeply. "Well, yes and no. When I told him that," she paused as her lips twisted into a grimace, "that Jones had stolen his cufflinks from me, he was shocked. But it was like once I started, I couldn't stop. I told him everything. About how he'd taunted me, how he tried to use those fucking cufflinks as leverage, how he told me he'd—" Olivia's voice cut off as she gagged. "Sorry, sorry. I told him how Jones threatened to leave his cufflinks in my dead mouth as a gift for 'my boyfriend' to find." Her eyes burned with unshed tears. "The look on Rafael's face..." Her voice cracked. "I put that there. All that pain, that guilt... I never should have told him."

Dr. Stanton gave her a look. "Would keeping him in the dark really help your relationship, Olivia?" she asked as she leaned forward.

Olivia pursed her lips and said nothing.

"How did he react?" Stanton asked, ignoring the look Olivia gave her.

Olivia's head dropped into her hands as her tears finally fell. "He just... held me. We cried together."

With her eyes covered, Olivia missed the soft expression on Dr. Stanton's face.

This wasn't the last they spoke of Rafael. He actually came up a lot during these sessions but besides this one, he was never the main topic of conversation. Or he wasn't until she was cleared by her doctor three weeks later.

Up until this point, Olivia and Rafael had fallen into a comfortable routine. He worked from her apartment, for the most part scheduling important meetings during her various appointments when he had to, while she pretended that the guilt of keeping him from his work wasn't eating her up inside. When she wasn't at her doctor's office or her therapist's she was confined to her apartment, stuck with trying to find something to do when reading, watching TV, and pretty much all physical activity gave her a headache. After about a week, the answer came to her in the form of baking. Something about it was calming to her and it gave her something to do that wasn't too strenuous while also providing the means of alleviating some of her guilt. Rafael, she'd found, had a sweet tooth and she quickly became addicted to the look on his face when she passed him a cookie or brownie while he was on a call at her kitchen table. She lived for her evenings with him and that quite honestly scared her.

It was this fear that caused her to push him away when she'd finally got the all-clear from her doctor.

"You should go back to work. Like normal."

Rafael looked up from his book, unsurprised. He'd been expecting this.

When he said nothing, Olivia continued, "I'm cleared to drive now, I can take myself to my appointments. You should go back to work." She paused debating whether or not she should say it. Her lips chose for her. "Back to your apartment."

He frowned deeply at that. "Back to my apartment?"

She nodded, biting her lip.

He let out a sigh, "Is that really what you want?"

She couldn't look at him. "I don't need a babysitter, Rafael."

He closed his book and stood. "Is that really what you think this is, Liv?"

The hurt in his voice stabbed at her stomach. "No, I just—I feel guilty, okay?"

"Guilty for keeping me from my work?" he guessed. She said nothing. It was a rhetorical question. His expression softened as he made his way over to her. "Hey," he said bringing his hands to cup her face. There were tears in her eyes. "You are so much more important to me than my work."

"But—"

"Stop, Liv. I'm serious." He looked it. "I want to be here with you and unless you can look me in the eyes and say you don't want me here, I'm going to stay. Not because I have to, or because of your head or anything else, but because I care about you and I love being here with you."

She couldn't look him in the eyes.

"Please don't push me away, Liv," he said softly.

The sincerity in his voice called to her and she finally looked at him. "Okay," she whispered. His smile was all the confirmation she needed as he leaned into his kiss her softly. They poured everything they had into that one small kiss as Olivia wondered not for the first time if this was what love felt like. When they pulled back, they just stayed there until she broke the silence a moment later. "But you'll go back to work?"

He looked down at her pleading eyes and nodded.

She relayed this entire conversation to her therapist the next day, fretting over the logistics and the implications of their words and what this could mean for their future until Dr. Stanton stopped her in her tracks with one question.

"What about your work?"

Olivia gaped at her. "My work?"

"We haven't talked much about how this experience will affect your ability to do your job. With the nature of your abduction, I have to ask, is SVU still the place you want to be?"

She didn't hesitate. "Absolutely," she stated. "That's not even a question. I love my job. My work is my life."

"Is it, though?"

Olivia opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out.

The air smelled like coffee and New York and Olivia loved it. As she kept her eyes peeled, soaking in the sounds of the diner, her hands wrapped her cup almost protectively and she frowned. She couldn't understand the nervousness biting at her stomach. She shook off the feeling and stared down at her coffee. Just as she reached to take a sip, the jingle of the door opening caught her attention and she grinned. His face lit up as he caught sight of her and he made his way over.

"Nick!" she cried happily, placing her cup down to push out of her booth.

Amaro held his arms out to her, "Liv, it's so good to see you!"

"Likewise," she said, stepping into his embrace. After a beat, she stepped back, still holding onto his coat as she asked "How have you been?"

He shrugged, still grinning. "I've been alright," he said. The sound of someone clearing their throat cut him off and he turned to find someone waiting to get by. After a quick apology, they slipped into the booth.

"You were saying?" she prompted once they were settled.

"I've been good, it's really just been a lot of the same," he said, "Although, I must say Liv, interrogating perps hasn't been quite as much fun without my partner."

Her lips twitched as she rolled her eyes, "Ah, you flatter me."

"Maybe a little, but it's true," he said as he shrugged his coat off, "But forget me, how have you been? How's your head?"

Olivia's smile dimmed a little, "Could be worse, I guess," she observed, "I'm still getting these awful migraines if I try to think too hard. But honestly?" She picked up her coffee cup. "I've been doing okay. Not great, but okay."

Some of the tension in Amaro's shoulders melted away as she took a sip. "I'm so glad to hear it. Really Liv."

Olivia gave him a fond smile that he returned. "Thank you."

After a pause, his smile became a smirk. "How are things with Barba now that that cat's out of the bag?"

Her face immediately brightened, "He's been wonderful, he really has, Nick."

Amaro felt a rush of affection for his partner, "I'm really happy for you," he said sincerely, "You just tell him that he better stay wonderful or he'll have to answer to me," he jokingly warned.

"Mhmm," she hummed, rolling her eyes at his protectiveness, "I'll be sure to relay the message." Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she shook her head at him. She stopped as his face grew serious.

"I've gotta ask, Liv," he said quietly, "When are you coming back? We miss you." His eyes were searching, his face filled with concern.

Olivia sighed at his question and his expression and turned to look out the window. Although she knew her silence was making him nervous, she just looked up at the sky, partially blocked by the city she called home. Looks like rain.

When she finally turned back, he was still waiting for her, no judgment in his gaze. Her eyes closed briefly.

"Soon. I'll be back soon."