I typed this in a hurry so please forgive any typos.

The opening words of this story are from SVU Season 15 episode 4 "Internal Affairs."

Sliding Backwards

"You love him, don't you? You're forty years old, wondering if you'll ever have a family – or if riding around with him will be enough for the rest of your life...You spent the last five years hoping he'd suddenly turn and realize you're the woman he can't live without."

The words you said to Officer Ryan Quinn nearly eight years ago echo in your head. You laugh silently to yourself and take a sip of Cabernet wine. You had said those words in an effort to empathize and connect with her. In hopes Quinn would roll on her partner Officer West, who had been raping drunk women they had picked up off the streets.

When you had said those words to her at the time, you had truly empathized with her. Those words had come from a tightly locked box you kept deep in your soul. You had looked at Quinn and saw yourself in her reflection.

And while you knew that you and Quinn were the similar, you had thought you were not the same. You had pitied her, looked down at her from your perch. At the time, you had been dating Brian Cassidy. You had moved on. Unlike Quinn, you were no longer living on the cusp of your partner's life.

Sure, it had not been by your choice-Elliot Stabler's abrupt departure and radio silence had made the decision really- but, regardless, you had moved on.

Or so you had thought.

Your eyes roam over Elliot sleeping on your couch. His muscular body too large for your couch, his legs dangle over the edge. He makes your living room look small in comparison. But that is what Elliot does, takes up too much damn space. And you allow it.

You take another sip of your Cabernet. You had also stopped doing this. You are not sure if this refers to self-medicating with alcohol or this refers being Elliot's doormat. If you are a doormat, you are sure your heart is etched on that mat, welcoming Elliot to wipe his feet every time he enters. You laugh again. You sip again.

You replay in your mind the last four hours. Elliot had showed up at your door distraught. Almost as distraught as the day Kathy died. You had just told him two days ago that he was looking better. Whatever he was doing, was working. Come to find out, he was doing Angela Wheatley.

Your glass is empty. You reach for the bottle and refill it.

He had come to your door, again. Broken, again. And expecting you to fix him, again.

Because that is what you do for him. He breaks. He comes to you. You receive him. You piece him back together.

Then, he goes back to Kathy-when she was still alive. Or he goes to those nameless women he dated while he and Kathy had been separated. Oh how can you forget, one had a name: Dani Beck. And now Angela Wheatley.

Angela Wheatley is the last on a long list of women who Elliot chooses other than you.

You take a gulp of wine. You are past sipping at this point.

You feel stupid. That is the only way to describe it.

You thought it would be different this time.

He tells you that 'You mean the world to me' and 'I love you.' And you think it is going to be different this time.

That this time he would choose you.

You are too old to be the foolish. You are north of 50 now with a son and captain of a squad. A position you put in danger every time you rush to fix Elliot. Garland had reamed you out when he found out that you were not heeding his advice and still running around with Elliot.

"Are you going to choose him above your career? Are you going to risk everything you made for yourself-for him?"

You finish your wine. You glance and notice the bottle is empty. It seems your avoidance is over.

You have to accept the truth.

Elliot Stabler does love you. But he is never going to choose you.

You do not doubt that there is a special place for you in his life, but Elliot has sanctified you, and placed you on a pedestal above his desires.

And he does not realize how undesirable and insecure it makes you feel.

Since you were a little girl, you have been told you were beautiful. Even your mother who could barely look at you, had always called you beautiful. You effortlessly attract men. Except the one you have always wanted.

You reach for your phone and scroll to a name in your contact list. Brian Cassidy.

You need to feel wanted again. You need to feel chosen.

You shoot Brian a text: You want to get dinner tonight? Let's catch up. Brian will read between lines.

You know it is wrong. Brian will always love you; you know he would never deny you. You have no intention of this being more than one night with Brian. You are exploiting his feelings for you. Hurt people hurt people.

In one night Elliot has you falling back into all your old bad habits: putting your job on the line for him, drinking, and using men.

Your mind returns to Ryan Quinn. Quinn had only spent five years of her living off the crumbs of West's life. Well you had spent twenty-two years begging at the table of Elliot Stabler.

His crumbs will never fill you.

You rise and go to Elliot. You will not let him undo ten years of progress. You will not let him undo who you have become.

"Elliot, wake up." You are careful not to be too loud and wake Noah sleeping in his room. You do not touch him, cautious of his PTSD. "Elliot."

He startles. His bloodshot eyes open. He is tense and disoriented for a moment, but as soon as his eyes see you, he relaxes. He knows you will save him from this mess he has made. He is wrong.

"You have to leave, Elliot." He blinks confused. He sits up slowly. It is too dark for him to get a good read on you.

"Liv?" You hear question he asks. What's wrong?

"You need to leave." You repeat. We are wrong.

"Is this about me and Angela?" He is asking if you are mad at him for getting involved with a suspect's ex-wife. He thinks he has offended the police officer in you. Because he never thinks the woman in you. That is the core of your issue with him.

If you have had to face some hard truths tonight, then so does he. "Yes, it is, Elliot. Now get out."

He springs off the couch and steps into your space. You do not let him use his presence to his advantage. You step around him and drop down onto the couch he left. You may not be able to reclaim your time, but you will reclaim your space.

"I know I messed up-" You turn on the lamp next to you. The light blinds you both; just like the truth will.

"This is not about your inappropriate relationship with someone close to the target of your investigation. That is Sargent Bell's issue to worry about. This is about you and me, Elliot."

He freezes. He is so still you wonder if he is breathing. He is not used to you being so blunt in regards to the feelings between you two.

Twenty-two years of repressed emotions spill from you. "This is about you coming to me to fill you up, and then you going to fill these other women." You think you may be yelling- or maybe everything else around you is so quiet you seem to be yelling in comparison. Or maybe the truth is loud.

"Liv-" He is begging you not to do this. He needs you to remain the sacred idol he has placed high on shelf in his heart. He cannot handle such a big blow hours after finding out about Angela's betrayal.

But you are done placing Elliot Stabler's needs above your own.

"You would rather be with Angela than me?" What about me? You had whispered to him after Gitano.

Elliot stumbles to his knees like you had shot him. "Liv, we don't do this." He whispers in a strangled voice. His chest heaves with unsteady breaths. You have hurt him.

It is a fraction of how much he has hurt you.

But you are merciful, you end the torture.

"You're right. We don't do this." You get up and head for the door. "I hope you get the answers you are searching, Detective Stabler. Please let me know if SVU can assist in anyway allowed."

If Elliot does not want the woman Olivia Benson, then all he will get is Captain Benson. You hold open the door expectantly.

"Liv." He whispers again. He is shaking, a PTSD episode probably looms. Whatever progress he has made, you have surely undone it.

At least you are not the only one backsliding.

You open the door wider.

Maybe Angela will fix him this time.

Using your coffee table, he pulls himself up. Your coffee table groans at the weight of him. You know he is heavy; you have been holding him up for years.

He steps pass you and into the hall way. He turns and looks you in the eyes. His devastation is clear to you. He is pleading with you. Don't do this, Liv.

You are not sure he will survive losing you. You are not sure you will survive losing him.

But the pieces of him are no longer enough.

You close the door in his face.

Your final words to Quinn echo in your head.

"It's over. It's not gonna happen. It was never gonna happen. I'm sorry."

END

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Sorry to my readers, I had to get this out. As I said hurt people hurt people-and last night hurt. I feel like I got the pain out, but I may be able to be convinced to let Elliot make this right and do a follow-up… Anyway back to my other story The Ghost of You.