This is my 750th story, and I found that it was only fitting it be an SVU story, since SVU and these characters led to my discovery and love of fanfiction. I hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Disclaimer: SVU and the Papa Roach song Scars are not mine.
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And the scars remind us
That the past is real
Everyone had scars.
Childhood accidents, drunken fistfights, scars left on the heart by the callous actions of a former lover. People everywhere had them.
Including Olivia Benson.
She had a scar on her knee from when she climbed a tree and fell out of it. There was a scar on her lower back from a broken bottle wielded by her drunken mother in a bout of insane jealousy. A small scar on her right shoulder courtesy of a bullet twelve years ago.
A jagged scar on the left side of her neck from a knife-wielding maniac named Gitano. It matched a scar in her heart left by her partner when he looked her in the eye and told her she and this job were all he had.
That scar was only carved deeper when, five years later, he walked out of her life without a single word.
That was three years ago, she realized numbly as she stared up at the hospital ceiling. Less than twelve hours ago, she had been imprisoned in a house on Long Island by a psychopathic William Lewis. It was by sheer will and determination that she freed herself long enough to beat him within an inch of his life, then call for help escaping that nightmare.
Except it wasn't a nightmare, as the fresh bruises and injuries reminded her. She was on a morphine drip but the pain was still there, just out of reach. There would be new scars, new stories, new nightmares to battle alone in the dead of night.
A tear slipped down her cheek and hit her pillow, and she turned her head to stare at the window. Not that she could really see anything.
Her door opened and she flinched at the intrusion, quickly raising her hand to wipe the tears away. It had to be a nurse or maybe Cragen coming to check on her. For the last twelve hours, it seemed that no more than an hour passed before someone came in to make sure she was alright.
How on earth was that even a possibility?
Thoughts of her partner sprang to her mind, unbidden. Former partner. Elliot had left three years ago, and in that time she had tried texting and calling dozens of times. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, she tried to connect with him for all of it. The first year was by far the hardest. Every time something happened, good or bad, she reached for her phone to call or text him. She ached to hear his voice, and at one point she would have settled for him picking up the phone to tell her to stop contacting him.
Anything was better than this suffocating silence.
She heard footsteps coming closer but her eyes remained locked on the window. She had just endured one of the most traumatic events of her life. Was it too much to ask for a few hours of uninterrupted silence?
Her left hand rested at her side, her wrist heavily bandaged. When a large hand settled cautiously over hers, her breathing became erratic and she swung her head to face the intruder.
And just like that, the wind was knocked out of her.
Elliot Stabler stared back at her, his cerulean eyes filled with remorse. "Liv…"
She barked out a laugh. She had finally cracked. She was still at the beach house and Lewis had knocked her unconscious, and this was the dream she was having. How else would Elliot be sitting beside her, looking like a kicked puppy?
His fingers tightened around hers, sending a jolt of pain through her hand and up her arm.
Dreams didn't hurt.
He leaned closer to her, close enough that she could feel his breath ghosting across her skin. "Liv...I came as fast as I could." His voice was hoarse and his lips chapped. "Cragen called me. I got the first flight…"
Everything he was saying rang in her ears, but she could only focus on his eyes, pleading with her for something. Forgiveness? Understanding? She felt another tear trickle down her cheek.
Elliot scrubbed at his own face with his free hand. "They, uh, got you on a morphine drip," he managed. "You probably won't remember this when…when you're more awake. But I'm here." He dared to let his free hand trail over her arm. "I'm here and...God, I'm sorry, Liv. I'm sorry."
Scars, she dimly thought as her eyes became harder to keep open. Still she stared at her former partner, who was making himself more comfortable in the stiff hospital chair. He had left so many scars on her, but by being at her side when she needed him the most, he had closed the biggest one she had ever known.
His voice was the last thing she heard as the morphine eased her into a healing sleep. She wondered if the faint brush of a kiss against her bruised temple was part of that beautiful dream.
"I'm not leaving you again."
Finis.
A/N: What can I say except thanks for all the love and support I've received for these stories. It keeps me going. Happy reading, everyone.