*EDITED 6/21/16* AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, guys. If you're familiar with this story, which I've been writing/updating since October 2013, you might notice now that it's suddenly missing something... namely the first 11 original chapters. This chapter, originally the 12th installment, now marks the start of the story. I know a few of you who have been been reading for a while may be upset with this decision, but I made this choice for a few reasons. In short, there was a major structural and style gap between the writing in the first section of the story and where it begins now. I made sure to cut it at a point where everything still makes sense. Nothing changes plot wise. I just felt that there was so much of the beginning that was excessive, and in making this cut, the story becomes more of a strictly post-Surrender Benson story as opposed to including Olivia's time in captivity. I'm sorry to anyone this might upset, but it's been something that has bugged me for a while. I have already started the process of revising the original chapters, and in the future, I may consider re-uploading them in a more uniform structure. But this is where this story stands for now. Anyway, thank you to everyone who has read and supported this story throughout its continued run. It's been an incredible little journey.
"How many times did he strike you on the head with the gun?"
"Uhm, at least twice… Maybe three times?"
Olivia's voice shook with uncertainty as she responded to the scrub-clad nurse's robotic questions. In the midst of the disorienting chaos, it was difficult to focus on her words, to focus on anything really. She was numb. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, her voice soft as she stoically answered the barrage of questions being thrown her way. Honestly, her memory of the first couple of days was dicey at best, and her mind was so completely exhausted that it physically pained her to try to reconcile the lost memories.
She'd asked Brian to leave the room for the initial examination, knowing full well that she didn't want him around to hear the horrible questions and answers that would be spoken. Hesitant to leave her side, he had begrudgingly complied with a promise that he would be right outside if he needed her. A part of her felt guilty as she'd watched him tear himself away from her, hating the fact that he was being forced to leave her out of his sight after all that had happened. But she couldn't bear the thought of him hearing the awful details of her assault (even though she fully intended on leaving a fair amount out anyway), and he was always good about giving her space.
She flinched as the petite blonde woman in front of her shone a harsh light into her pupil.
"Yep," the smaller woman nodded conclusively, inspecting Olivia's bloodshot eyes, "The doctor will have to take a final look, but it's pretty safe to say that you've sustained a pretty serious concussion, sweetheart."
Olivia visibly cringed—not only at the use of that particular pet name—but at the sound of her own injuries being described to her. She'd been here too many times before on the opposite side of the fence. She was the one who held the hands, asked the questions; she knew this grueling process like the back of her hand. And yet, every question, every poke, every prod felt like another hundred foot wave crashing onto her. Overwhelming her. Suffocating her. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She didn't belong on the receiving end of this familiar procedure. Of course, no one did. She knew that, but sitting here in the small, cold examination room, she couldn't help but feel that her life had been painfully ripped inside out, pulled in reverse. After fifteen years on the job, Detective Olivia Benson was a pro at handling these situations with poise and passion and strength; she was a lioness. On this side of the spectrum, she was simply lost.
"How long until I can get out of here?" the word's stumbled out without her permission as she finally lifted her eyes pleadingly to the nurse. They shone with a glimmer of desperation.
The nurse paused in her handwriting to shoot Olivia a glance of sad confusion.
"Well, you haven't yet gotten your rape kit done," the nurse remarked, returning her gaze to her paperwork without noticing the look of panic that flashed in the detective's eyes, "The examination will only take a few hours, and the doctor should be in—"
Olivia was quick to cut her off, a look of defiance masking her trepidation.
"I know how they work," she snapped a bit more harshly than intended, "I don't need one. I wasn't raped."
Much to the detective's irritation, the nurse flashed her a set of sympathetic eyes. She clearly didn't believe her.
"Sweetie," she cooed, extending a supportive hand to Olivia's shoulder. But she was quick to react.
"Don't touch me," she barked, swatting the small woman's hand away from her.
True to her nature, she was already irritated over being the object of attention. And she certainly didn't appreciate not being believed, even though she was in fact lying. She just wanted to leave. She wanted Brian back. She wanted this to be over. She wanted it to have never happened. She wanted to just disappear.
Olivia felt a pang of guilt as she peeked up to see the nurse's wounded expression, but she didn't have the energy or even the clarity to apologize. Instead, she softened her tired eyes and spoke once again.
"Please," she croaked, emotion threatening to overcome her voice, "I don't need a kit, I don't need any more medication. I'm fine. I just need to get out of here, okay?"
The nurse seemed to consider her request with sad eyes before setting down her folder and clearing her throat.
"Miss Benson," she spoke quietly, "As I understand the circumstances of your case, there was a great deal of violence inflicted upon you. And I can't begin to imagine what you are feeling right now. But as I'm sure you already know, what's most important right now is that you focus on making sure you're okay."
Olivia scoffed darkly to herself at the notion of being any degree of "okay," but the nurse continued anyway.
"Physically," she clarified gently, "We need to make sure your injuries aren't going to cause anything serious. We already took care of most of your burns and cuts, but if there are any…other injuries that need medical attention, please…you need to let us help you."
Olivia gritted her teeth to hold back frustrated tears. She wasn't angry with the woman in front of her, but her logical reasoning certainly wasn't helping the raging war that was already exploding inside her head, and she felt like she was about to burst at the seams. On a logistic and professional level, Olivia knew that the kind-hearted nurse was absolutely right; that she needed to get the medical care for herself that she knew was necessary. In fact, Olivia herself had spent many occasions convincing rape victims of that very same thing.
Rape victim.
Her mind rejected the label.
Which reminded her of the opposing force in her internal conflict. All at once, she could feel her senses betray her as her mind dragged her back to the painful hell she'd endured only hours ago. She vividly recalled the way Lewis's skin felt against hers, how his scent suffocated her as she fought for the breath that was already so difficult to attain beneath him.
Feeling herself giving quickly away to the threatening blackness of the flashback, she desperately scrambled back to reality. Closing her eyes, she locked her solution into her mind. She knew what she needed to do.
"Okay," Olivia surrendered quietly, her weary, brown eyes finally flickering up to meet with the nurse's kind pools of blue, "You're right. I'll do it, but you have to promise me something first."
The nurse's expression transitioned from one of compassion to one of confusion as Olivia took a deep breath in, unable to believe what she was about to request.
"I need you to do the full exam," she started weakly, keeping her teary eyes locked with the nurse's, "But… No one. Ever. Can know… that I was…"
When she realized Olivia wasn't going to finish, the nurse gently intervened.
"You were raped."
It was more of a statement than a question, but Olivia nodded silently anyway, her eyes welling up with tears at the bitter words.
"Yes," she gritted after a few moments, "But that's not what the record is going to show."
After a moment, Olivia watched as the realization fell over the nurse's face. Understanding fully what the battered victim wanted, the sympathetic woman tucked a strand of her own hair behind her ear with a sigh.
"Detective Benson," she spoke, "I know you have to realize the gravity of what you're asking of me right now. I could lose my job, my license…You could get in trouble for obstruction."
Olivia pressed her lips together, trying to suppress the guilt she felt over her uncharacteristic behavior.
"I know," she whispered, "I know."
The nurse's heart broke for her patient, but she tried to deter her once again.
"Sweetheart," she assured, "there's nothing to be ashamed of. It was not your—"
"I know!" Olivia snapped again, wiping preemptively at her eyes, "I know it's 'not my fault,' and I know the 'shame isn't mine.' I know the whole speech, okay? But it doesn't change this. It doesn't change anything when it's happening to me. So either you do the examination on my terms and we keep this our secret, or I walk out that door right now, screw the doctor's orders."
Her voice had escalated to a painful volume that she could now feel throbbing in her throat and her sore lungs as her ragged breaths filled the otherwise silent room. After a few moments of the nurse's torn eyes flickering indecisively around the room, Olivia inferred the refusal that was sure to come. Defeated, she pushed herself painfully to a standing position and made her defiant step toward the hospital room door, stopping only when a gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder.
"Fine," the nurse's voice came in a hushed whisper, "Fine, I'll do the kit. I'll perform the full procedure for medical purposes, but I'll put down a partial kit for the record so that—"
"No," Olivia stopped her, looking straight into her eyes, "That will raise suspicion. You have to put it all out there, black and white. Full examination, full disclosure. No hairs, no fluid, no tearing. No sign of sexual assault present."
Olivia stared in disgusted fascination as the last of the pink-tinted water swirled around the white tiled floor before disappearing forever down the drain. In her mind, she envisioned all the pain and filthiness in her body rinsing away into the vast expanse of the sewers along with all the physical evidence of the assault. But most unfortunately she knew that all the scalding hot water and hospital-issued soap in the world couldn't wash away the stains that had been left deep within her soul.
Shaking herself from her thoughts, she reached out with a still-trembling hand to shut off the steady stream of water. Instantly, a brisk cold overtook her skin in the absence of the numbing heat, and she immediately reached for the white hospital towel hanging just beyond the plastic pull-away curtain. The seemingly soft material felt strangely rough as she pressed the cloth to her face, forgetfully brushing against the fresh wounds that littered her skin. She grimaced at the pain as she delicately unfolded the towel to wrap around her shoulders.
When she pulled the flimsy white curtain across the metal rod with a loud scrape, she quickly sought out for the blue duffle bag of clothing that Brian had been kind enough to bring her. Pulling the familiar articles out one by one, she closed her eyes and silently thanked him for the small relief of not having to wear the hideously uncomfortable hospital-issued sweats. It was nice to have something instead that didn't scream the word "victim."
Getting herself redressed was just as terribly painful and challenging as it had been when she had done so back at the beach house, but she clenched her eyes shut, desperately willing her mind not to go back there. Not now. As she slowly pulled Brian's soft, blue button-up over her head, she reveled in the scent of him that seemed to envelope her, fighting off, if even for a moment, the horrid assault of memories. Once she was completely dressed, the fabric of the otherwise-comforting clothes rubbing agonizingly against the fresh burns, she picked up the empty duffle bag and turned to face the semi steamy mirror. Without her consent, he mind flashed back to the beach house once again where she stood paralyzed in her own unrecognizable reflection. All she could see in the glass panel was a collection of bruises, cuts, and burns. A compilation of Lewis's tortures. She saw what he saw: the canvas upon which he inflicted his proudest work. Just like last time, it was hard to believe it was herself that she was looking at. And just like last time, the shame swallowed her up.
Before she could spiral into a complete episode of self loathing, a gentle rap on the door pulled her from her thoughts.
She cleared her throat before speaking up.
"Almost done," she croaked, hating the twinge of weakness her voice betrayed.
She took one last look at the mirror, once again failing to see Olivia Benson anywhere in the frame, before rolling her eyes and pushing herself away and through the door where Brian stood anxiously awaiting her return.
"You all set?" he asked, nervously wiping his palms across the denim of his pants.
She kept her eyes averted, offering only a curt nod and what barely resembled a forced smile.
"Discharge papers?" he inquired.
"Taken care of," she nodded again, "I wanted to get them out of the way quickly so I could hurry up and make it to the station to give my statement."
Brian eyed her cautiously.
"Liv, are you sure you want to do that right away? I mean, IAB, they know what you've… they know you're not… they've given you the night to rest. They don't expect you to give your statement until tomorrow morning."
She clenched her jaw defiantly, keeping her eyes away from his.
"It's fine," she mumbled, "I'm fine. I just... I want to get it over with, okay?"
His heart ached so deeply in his chest for her. He'd never heard the pain so evident in her voice.
"Okay."
Then silence once again as he seemed to appraise her, still clearly in shock of everything, of her being alive, being here.
"Uh, here, let me take that," Brian fumbled sheepishly, gently retrieving the blue duffle from her hands.
She couldn't bring herself to oppose his chivalrous gesture as every weakened part of her body screamed out with pain and exhaustion. So with an awkward, agreeable nod, she walked by his side down the achingly long corridor.
Cragen had demanded to sit in on the initial interview. The gesture was for Olivia's own sake more than anything else; the SVU squad was no stranger to IAB and their rat tactics. And over his dead body were those snakes going to allot Olivia one less ounce of justice than she deserved. So with her splinted wrist, bulky sling, and a plastic cup of room temperature tap water, she sat rigidly in her chair and told the gruesome tale of the worst four days of her life. Aside from a few of the more unnecessarily graphic excerpts and the obvious detours at the end, she spoke the professional, clear cut, black and white truth. No emotion, no tears. Just business as usual. Except it wasn't, and no amount of lying to herself was truly going to convince herself otherwise.
The seemingly apathetic red headed detective offered nothing more than the occasional nod as Olivia spoke of her nightmarish escapades. Her IAB was definitely showing. Cragen, on the other hand, while keeping his omnipresent professionalism and grace, proved to have a difficult time hearing the sharp words cut through the brave woman's lips. With each horrific recount of the assaults she'd been forced to endure at the hands of SVU's most sadistic predator, the seasoned captain felt his inner resolve crumbling. His stomach churned as he watched the most cherished woman in his life struggle through her statement, briefly pausing at times when the content became particularly gruesome.
When she finally finished her statement, the detective switched off the recording device, said her 'thank you's, and bid the two farewell. It wasn't until she had left the room and closed the door with a swift clatter that Olivia's detached eyes finally dared to meet her Captain's.
"Well," he spoke up, breaking the silence that followed the detective's exit, "as far as the department's concerned, you're a hero."
Although he didn't say it out loud, he hoped she got the message that he very much thought so too.
"They're going to want a press tour as soon as you feel up to it."
She groaned internally at the thought. Olivia had never been one for media exposure, but especially in the horrible state she was in now, being in the vulnerable glare of the public eye seemed like the worst possible scenario. She wanted to disappear, not make a spectacle of herself.
"And the lawyer's mother?" Olivia quickly shifted the focus off of herself, naturally more concerned for the well being of others before herself.
"She's… doing better. She's going to be released from the hospital today."
In her mind, Olivia flashed through the horrific images of Mrs. Mayer, of the awful, dehumanizing things she'd endured as the restrained detective had watched on helplessly. She remembered the smell of ashes as Lewis burned her over and over, discarding the pile of used up cigarettes onto the carpet with the rest of the rubble. Her place had been completely ruined, her family killed. Suddenly it occurred to her that the poor woman had nowhere to go.
"Where's she going to go now?" Olivia inquired in a small, lost voice, "I mean, she can't go back to that house."
A beat. Another realization.
"Where am I going to go now?"
Cragen saw her wide eyes go unfocused and he hurriedly spoke his reassurances to keep her from going back to that dark place.
"Your place is a crime scene," he stated professionally, "The department will put you up in a hotel."
"Okay. For how long?"
He sighed, his heart clenching painfully at her diehard tendencies to evade any amount of dependency.
"Liv, don't worry about it. You got concussion, a broken wrist, cracked ribs… what you've been through… You're on mandatory leave until you recover, and I don't want any arguments."
For a few immeasurable moments, she stared into her senior officer's eyes with a look that could only be described as mourning for the loss of the woman who, long ago, may have offered up a full out riot in exchange for mandatory leave. But now, she couldn't even begin to think of mustering an mere argument.
"I'm not going to give you any."
And that's when he realized this was worse than anything she'd ever survived.
The sound of the office door startled them both from their moment as Brian poked his head in.
"Hey, Captain, there's a lot of press outside," he remarked with a hint of annoyance, "I should probably get Liv out of here."
She didn't even try to hide her irritation about the press, obviously not quite ready to become a cheesy, front page headline after the absolute nightmare she had been through.
Brian approached her gently, still very cautious of his every move. Like walking on egg shells.
"You want to go to a hotel?" He prompted gently.
Her eyes avoided his for a few moments as she contemplated the thought of being alone at yet another unfamiliar place. The beach house, the hospital, now a hotel? The idea alone made her lungs constrict inside her chest. She ached for a taste of something loving. Something familiar.
"Uhm," she started nervously, embarrassed for her blatant dependency, "Maybe your place is a better idea?"
It was more a question of uncertainty than a statement, but he seemed to gladly oblige out of hand.
"Alright, let's go."
Olivia's heart dropped to her stomach and she hesitated for just a short moment before stepping through the threshold of the office and into the squad room… where all of her squadmates, her partner, stood to their feet. As she passed through the familiar work space, Brian close (but cautiously not too close) by her side, she couldn't help but feel like it was the walk of shame. One by one she met each friend's eyes as she strode painfully by.
Fin. The look in his eyes made her feel painfully sick to her stomach. It was the same look she'd seen all those years ago in a dingy basement… the expression of horror she'd hoped she'd never have to see again.
Not so tough now, huh, Detective?
Rollins. Ever since her arrival from Georgia, she'd seen Olivia as a hero, like a little girl looking up to her favorite Hollywood actress. To her, she was unbreakable. Olivia could only imagine her utter disappointment that her illusion has been shattered.
I wonder what your little friends back at the precinct would think of you now.
Munch. Like the big brother she never had. Also the longest remaining coworker that's stuck around. Fifteen years of building her reputation, earning his respect. What's left of that now?
You're pathetic! I know it, you know it. I wonder what will happen when all your pig buddies find out too.
Nick. Her partner. Her shield. One of her closest friends. He respected her so much, but he always wanted to be the protector—he was like Elliot in that way. She couldn't imagine how much he already blamed himself for this. And maybe even her a little bit. How could he ever trust her again?
I can just see the look on your partner's face now, when I tell them in open court every graphic detail of what I did to you.
By the time Olivia reached the point of her desk, her laborious breathing had gone completely erratic as she struggled immensely to hold herself together against the onslaught of flashbacks.
Everything that you wanted, of course. I know you loved every second.
She could feel herself falling apart, the cracks in her broken foundation quickly threatening to shatter into crumbled remains all over the ground. She couldn't do this, she couldn't breathe, she wanted to die.
Yeah, just wait until they hear what you've done. They're going to know what a little whore you are, just like I know.
By the time she and Brian stepped through the open threshold of the precinct elevator, Olivia was literally shaking from head to toe, her mind spinning wildly out of control. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't stand.
Brian's brow crinkled with heavy concern as he watched her face tremble from a rather obvious attempt at composure. But when the golden elevator doors finally dinged to a close, she broke. She couldn't help it, her body simply collapsed. Taken by complete surprise, Brian caught her up in his arms just in time and pulled her tightly into his chest. His own batch tears stung behind his eyes as her limp body wracked with violent, heart wrenching sobs against him.
She had shattered.
It was in that moment that it became very clear to both of them:
Life would never be the same.