A/N: Once again, this was supposed to be the last chapter...BUT once again I am breaking it into two chapters because it's just very heavy and I feel like too much to squeeze everything I want into just one. So this is a bit on the shorter side, but like I said, it's heavy.

TW: Mentions of rape. No details, but do read with caution.

Olivia calms before her anxiety heightens to panic. She learned from experience when she's hit her emotional peak, and Elliot respects that while still grounding her in reality. Once she's steady, he tentatively releases her hand and rejoins her on the sofa.

"You good?" He treads carefully, keeping some distance between them.

"Yeah, I'm…better."

In truth, she's overwhelmed. Between her own vulnerability and Elliot's uncharacteristically gentle reaction to it, she's inundated with emotion. Olivia was prepared for their conversation to be difficult, but foolishly believed she could, for lack of a better word, disassociate. She had hoped to recite the events of her trauma as if they were just words; nothing more. It was unrealistic, she realizes, but so many coping mechanisms are.

"Would a cannoli help?" Elliot interrupts her thoughts.

"You know," she rewards him with a half-smile. "It couldn't hurt."

"Comin' right up, captain." He stands, lightly pressing her shoulder as he walks to the kitchen. It's a simple gesture—a small display of affection—but Olivia takes notice and it warms her.

"I don't know where your plates are." Elliot shrugs, handing her the cannoli wrapped in a paper towel.

"It's fine." She takes a bite, the sweetness hitting her tongue immediately. "Wow, okay. These are good. I'll give you that."

"I told you." He beams as if he made them himself.

"You want one?" She glances toward him.

"Nah, save the rest for Noah." He looks down at his hands, feeling a bit restless. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Mhm." She hums, her mouth full.

"You think I'd make you talk?" He chews his lip.

"Did I say that?" She cocks her brow, not remembering that part of their conversation.

"No, but before? The way you were apologizing," He motions toward her. "I don't know. Seemed like you were worried I'd be mad."

"Oh." She brushes a few crumbs from the corner of her lip. "I was just…overwhelmed. I didn't mean to imply—."

"Because I'd never make you do anything." He cuts in.

"No, nor could you." She corrects him. Not even Elliot Stabler is capable of making her do anything.

"But you've got to know that I wouldn't." His tone is a bit more desperate than he'd like.

"I know that." Olivia softens, taken aback by his sensitivity. "I know." She reaches for his hand and presses gently.

"I don't know why I'm being…fucking sensitive about this." He squeezes her hand in return.

"It's normal." She assures him, searching for his eyes. "You're—"

"Going through hell, I know." He interrupts, snapping his hand away.

Olivia doesn't say anything more, but she eyes him with concern. His obvious desperation for her—for their relationship—is unusual and she wonders if he even realizes it.

"There actually is something I need to say before we can," she adjusts the throw pillow next to her, "I don't know, put this conversation to bed."

"Yeah?"

She nods, but won't meet his gaze.

"You're sure?" He questions.

"No, but I need to say it anyway." She shrugs. "You read my whole file?"

"More or less." He deflects, but sees the way she looks at him. "Yeah."

"Then I guess you already know." Olivia smoothes her hair. "But, you need—I need—you to hear it from me. Not from paperwork." She pulls at a few loose strings on the couch. "From me."

"Okay." He inches closer to her.

"Don't." She stops him, standing up. "I just," she pinches the bridge of her nose. "I need—."

"Okay." He backs off. "Understood." He watches her pace across her living room, her silence getting heavier with each passing second. It's the second time that afternoon that she's pacing in front of him and he feels powerless.

"William Lewis," she sees Elliot's jaw clench at the sound of his name. "He did terrible things." She instinctively wraps her arms around herself. "Not just to me." She clarifies. "But he—Elliot, he violated me physically and psychologically. He left scars on my body I have to live with every single day. And emotionally? I mean, you see it. I do my best and I'm okay—I've moved on—but it's still there." She taps her forehead. "In the back of my mind it's just…it's part of who I am now." She takes a moment to collect herself, her voice is thick with emotion.

"Take your time." Elliot reassures her.

"But." She breathes. "He didn't rape me." Her voice comes out softer than she intended, and she hopes—really hopes—that he heard her so she won't need to repeat it.

Elliot releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding and meets Olivia where she's standing.

"You heard me?" She turns her neck to glance at him, though she can see in his eyes that he did.

"I heard you." His voice is hoarse, barely a whisper. "Liv," he says thick with emotion. "Can I—please."

She closes her eyes and nods, leaning into him as he wraps her in a tight embrace. It's their first hug since Kathy's death and he worries it might be too aggressive, but she doesn't push back. Quite the opposite, actually: she snakes her arms around him, pulling them even closer. It's intimate, raw, terrifying, and yet somehow healing.

They cling to one another for a while longer, but Olivia does eventually pull away. She rests her palms on his chest; their foreheads touching. It's possible they could be crying, she hardly knows anymore and honestly? It doesn't matter.

"I need a break." She pats his chest, then moves away from him, toward her bedroom.