A/N: I am so overwhelmed by the response to the last chapter! Thank you so much for all of your reviews!
I am unsure if I'll continue, or if this story will end here and I'll start another story in the same series.
As always, I hope you enjoy and please please please let me know what you think!
TRIGGER WARNING
Graphic descriptions of the Lewis saga.
Sexual assault, physical abuse, and trauma.
"I came home, and he was already in my apartment. I still don't know how he got in."
Elliot watches her from the opposite end of the sofa. Her eyes are focused on the floor, and she fidgets with her bracelet, the ring on her finger. As he'd expected, she turned down any offer of a drink, brushing off attempts at small talk. Facing the monsters head on, that was just who she was.
"Before I could even form a thought, I had a gun to my head. I didn't reach for my weapon, I didn't scream, I just froze," it almost sounds like a question, like a maze she's still trying to find her way out of, "It was like everything started moving in slow motion outside of me, but inside my thoughts were racing. I knew what I was supposed to do, but I...couldn't move," she shakes her head, still disappointed in herself. "He knocked me out, and when I came to I was tied up."
Elliot notices that she's unconsciously started scratching at her own wrists, as if trying to break free of the phantom restraints. He moves a bit closer to her.
He cautiously reaches out and takes both of her wrists loosely in his hands, rubbing his thumbs back and forth over the scratch marks, "You're safe, Liv. Promise."
Olivia nods, blinks up at him, "He held me in my apartment for almost two days. He drugged me, he forced vodka down my throat, and I just kept thinking about my mother," her voice is quiet, "It was almost ironic, that alcohol could very well lead to the death of both of us. It felt like," she searches for words, "Like this was always my fate. To end up like her. To die a victim"
Elliot doesn't interrupt. Just listens.
"He tortured me," she whispers, almost as if she's talking to herself, "He kept me just lucid enough to be aware of everything he was doing, but unable to resist." Her breath catches on the last word. That feeling of powerlessness haunts her every day, constantly on guard, making sure she never feels that way again.
Elliot taps her chin with two fingers and she lifts her head. His eyes are so kind, so understanding, she gets lost in them. "Liv, you don't have to do this,"
He's giving her an out. She can stop now and not speak of the darkest things that happened to her. But looking at him, the feeling of him, strong and sure beside her, she felt the urge to keep going. "I want to," she answers and breathes deeply.
"Ok," he moves a strand of hair out of her eyes. He wants to see her, "Take your time."
Olivia nods and presses forward. "I passed out, and I remember when I came to," she squeezes her eyes shut tightly and bites down hard on her bottom lip. She worries she might be sick. "When I came to…" she tries again but to no avail.
"I'm right here with you," he says. Olivia nods and takes a couple of slow, deep breaths. Elliot leans in, his voice a whisper, "Liv, what did he do?"
"I woke up to pain. Blinding pain. He was putting cigarettes out on my skin. He had taken...my keys...wire hangers," What she said next was something he couldn't even dream up. "He heated them on the stove. He had taken off most of my clothes while I was out...and he branded me."
Elliot has been trying so hard to keep his emotions off his face, but that just isn't possible as his brain tries to comprehend what she's just told him. He swallows his rage, a scream trapped in his throat. He squeezes his eyes closed and counts to three slowly, running his hand across the stubble around his mouth. Then he sees her, and her arms instinctively cross tightly over her chest. He reaches out to touch her shoulder and she flinches. He pulls his hand away quickly, "I'm sorry."
"It's ok," she says sadly, "I just need a little breathing room." She pushes herself closer to the arm of the couch, putting more space between them. Elliot holds his fists in his lap, digging his blunt nails into his palms..
"It went on like that for….I don't know how long, it had to be over 36 hours. He would drug me, assault me, burn me until I passed out, then start all over again."
A thought enters Elliot's mind, and before he thinks better of it, it passes his lips,"Where was your partner?"
Olivia's head snaps up, a fire in her eyes, and Elliot immediately knows what's coming. She glares at him, "Where were you, Elliot? Jesus, are you kidding me?" She stands suddenly and walks away from him.
He stands, but doesn't follow her, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"
"No, you shouldn't have," adrenaline courses through her, "At least he had my back! At least he told me when he was leaving! At least when I call to check in, I know he'll answer the phone!"
Elliot takes a step toward her and reaches out. Instinctively, she slaps his hand away, "Don't touch me." Her voice is deep and dangerous. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. There's nothing he can say. He can't dispute the truth.
She turns her back to him, runs her hand through her hair. Her words are sad, but her voice is bitter, angry. "You knew me better than anyone. You knew that I'd never had a single person in my life stick around. I thought you would be different. I never expected you to be my partner forever, Elliot, but after all we'd been through, I at least thought you'd be there when I needed you."
Every word is like a knife in his gut. He had thought about her every single day, prayed that someone was there, watching over her, making her feel like she belonged. That was all she'd ever wanted, he knew, and with every cell in his body he had wanted to be that for her. He used to consider himself a good man, flawed certainly, but good. Up until the day he left, up until she stopped calling him, up until this moment right now.
Olivia turns to him, caught between wanting to scream and wanting to cry. "You know what was the worst part of those first days? That no one noticed I was missing. I kept thinking that I was going to die in that apartment, and it would be days before someone found me. And you would never even know."
A twist of the knife and he finds himself unable to breathe.
"And then I came out the other side and you know what I realized?" She stops as if she's waiting for him to answer, but he can't. "I was surrounded by people, hell, I was sharing my bed with someone, but I was completely alone. Just as I always had been."
Olivia exhales as if a huge weight has been lifted from her chest. Where he is incapable of taking a breath, she feels as though she's taken her first in ten years. It's only then that her eyes finally focus on him. He is flushed, tears fresh on his cheeks, and her heart breaks. She hadn't wanted to hurt him, hadn't intended to spill that darkness into the room, but there it was. And as good as it felt to say, it felt terrible to see pain in his eyes.
Olivia takes a few tentative steps toward him. "I'm sorry."
Elliot shakes his head, "Don't," he says with conviction, "Don't you dare apologize to me, Liv. I needed to hear that. I want to know your story, and I don't want you to ever hold back. So please, do not apologize to me."
Her eyes soften, "I don't blame you for what happened to me, Elliot."
"You should," he says quietly.
Maybe she doesn't blame him, but he will never stop blaming himself. Her partner didn't know to check on her, didn't know how hard she could be on herself after a tough case. He hadn't known her long enough to understand that even when she said she wanted to be alone, she might let you in with chinese food and a six-pack. So here it is, the moment he understands that this all could have been prevented if he had still been her partner. He would've been knocking at her door within hours, calling her to check in. He would've known.
She closes the space between them, and runs the back of her fingers along his jawline, trying to get him to unclench a bit, "Don't do that," she whispers, "This is not on you," she lowers her head to catch his downcast eyes, waits for him to look at her, "Lewis was smart, practically invisible when he needed to be. He wanted me, and he would've found a way." His jaw twitches under her fingers, "It's ok," she coos softly, and she feels his tension start to loosen. She smiles soft and sad, "I need a minute."
Elliot nods and watches her walk toward the bathroom. He's afraid his legs might give out if he tries to stand any longer, and he lowers himself heavily back onto the sofa. Elbows on his knees, he buries his face in his hands. I could have lost her, he thinks, and I never would have been able to say goodbye. His heart aches. When he hears the bathroom door open, he quickly pulls himself together. He can deal with himself and his feelings later. Right now he needs to focus on her. She comes toward him in her well-fitted jeans and loose, light sweater, and despite everything he is feeling, his heart swells. Seeing her in front of him immediately replaces all of the dark images in his mind. She has a draw, a power, a magic about her. When Olivia is in a room, she is the only thing he can see.
She pauses. Elliot expects her to return to the other end of the couch, as far from him as she can be, or maybe not to sit at all. Instead, she sits right beside him. Without a word, she removes her shoes, and tucks her legs up underneath her, facing him. Her knees gently graze his thigh. Following suit, he turns his entire body to face her. When their eyes meet, she smiles. For a few long moments they don't say anything, just sit in comfortable silence. The tension in the room is gone, the air cleared, and Olivia lets her relief wash over her before she speaks again.
"He had me for four days," she says.
"So he moved you?"
She nods, "I spent...hours in his trunk, and on the floor of his car. He was singing," her face drops in disgust at the memory, "He was enjoying every second of what he was doing. His voice," she pauses, "I hear his voice a lot, in my nightmares, sometimes when I'm just walking down the street. More often than I see his face, it's the sound of him singing, saying my name that haunts me," her hand comes up to her chest, toying with the pendent on her necklace, " I watched him kill a police officer, his lawyer's father… and he made me watch while he… raped her mother."
He sees the change in her immediately. Astoundingly, it's at this part of the story where he sees her tears start to slip from her eyes. Of course, it's the people she couldn't save, the ones she blames herself for, that hurt the most.
She continues, "He was brilliant at psychological torture. He knew exactly how to destroy me without touching me," she swallows hard, "By the time we came across this empty beach house, I knew my time was running out. I was drugged, drunk, dehydrated, starving. It was so hard to focus. Or even to stay conscious," she shakes her head, "I was so sure I was going to die in that place."
"Olivia," he starts, but he cannot think of a single thing to say.
She reaches out her hand to him, and he takes it. They hold on to each other tightly while she finishes her story.
"I tried to flatter him, convince him I was worth keeping around, but he," her voice shakes, her tears come quickly, silently. The memory is so real, so vivid, she can practically feel the cold metal against her teeth, "He put my gun in my mouth...and I gave in. I begged for my life." Her face flushes with embarrassment, and she wraps her arms around her abdomen, trying to make herself small.
Elliot wants nothing more than to comfort her; to hold her, to assure her it's not her fault. But her body language tells him that now is not the time. She seems to be almost in a trance, lost in her memories, holding herself tightly. How many nights, Liv? How many nights did you hold yourself when you were scared?
"He was about to cut my clothes off when someone came to the door. A housekeeper and her young daughter," Olivia's voice is low, but steady, "I could hear them talking, I couldn't let him hurt that little girl."
Elliot watches her with wonder in his eyes. This man had stolen so many things from her, but her compassion wasn't one of them.
"I was cuffed to a metal bed frame, and I worked one of the bars loose." He notices some of the tension leaving her body as she loosens her arms and runs her hands from her shoulders to her elbows as if she were cold. "I managed to overpower him and get him restrained."
Elliot lifts his head then and stares at her, disbelieving. This is not the turn he thought her story was going to take. He should've known. Of course she rescued herself. He smiles, almost laughs. She manages to smile back at him.
She sighs, "I got the woman and her daughter out, and I thought about calling for backup...but I just couldn't. I even uh…" she trails off.
"Tell me," he coaxes with a squeeze of her hand.
She looks directly into his eyes, "I thought about calling you," she whispers. Elliot's stomach drops and Olivia can practically feel it. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."
"No," he cuts her off, his voice adamant, "This is your story, Liv. You get to tell it any way you want to. You have been putting my needs above yours since I got back here. Hell, since the day we met. Don't do that now. Put yourself first. Let me put you first. You won't scare me off, I promise."
She is transfixed by his words, the sincerity in his voice. Whatever had happened over the last decade, this was an entirely new Elliot in front of her. His walls were down, he was telling her, showing her, everything he was feeling. She wanted to do the same.
Olivia's eyes drop to her lap, then back up to his, "Just before the housekeeper showed up, he was taunting me. He said he knew I was thinking about someone….someone I'd give anything to see just one more time. And he was right. I was positive I was going to die, and all I wanted was to see you, to hear your voice. I would've given anything for one more minute next to you in our old squad car," she pauses, "I didn't call you. I didn't call anyone. I wanted," she takes a few seconds. In all honesty, she still wasn't sure what kept her from calling right away. "Time, I guess. I could've shot him, I could've left, I just...I was stuck there. Looking at this monster at my feet, torn between ridding the world of him and all of the destruction he'd caused or bringing him in and getting justice," she shakes her head. Justice. A joke.
"And?" he prods
She stares at him, speaking with conviction, "I should've killed him," she says, unashamed, "I beat him with the metal rod while he was still restrained. I wanted him to hurt, to suffer. I truly don't know how he survived it," her gaze moves beyond him. She doesn't want to look at him when she admits to what came next. "I lied. To everyone; Cragen, IAB, under oath...I lied and told them that it was in self defense. I think I didn't want to admit…" when she looks at him, her tears have started again.
"What, Liv?"
Her voice quivers, the last bit of restraint giving way, "That he turned me into a monster, too."
And the dam breaks.
This last piece of her story was one she had never admitted. Lewis was a sadist, a rapist, a murderer. He inflicted pain for pleasure. But what had she done? Beaten him, broken his bones, enjoyed hearing him scream and watching him squirm while he couldn't defend himself. She had lost herself in that moment. She had become like him. And now she understands, that's what he wanted all along. Not that she'd ever do what she did again, but she has to live her life knowing that a monster lives inside her, too. That she is capable of doing unthinkable things. And with that knowledge came the fear that, someday, it may rear its ugly head again.
Olivia falls into him, shaking, sobbing, spent. His arms come around her quickly, strong and soothing. Safe. He pulls her into his chest and tucks her head beneath his chin. She has never done this, never broken down in front of anyone else, never allowed herself to be vulnerable, and, in turn, comforted.
The sounds that escape her as she cries, break his heart piece by piece. Elliot runs his fingers gently along her spine. He dips his head and presses his lips to her hair, then speaks softly, "Olivia, listen to me," he smooths her hair, holds her close, "You are not the monster. You endured horrible things, and in a moment that could've cost you your life, you saved a little girl." She doesn't speak, but he knows she's listening, her sobs growing quieter. "I am so sorry, Olivia. I should've been there. You should've been able to call me," he says sadly, "But I'm here now," he tightens his grip on her, "And I'm not leaving."
He catches one word, muffled by his shirt, "Promise?"
Elliot pulls back from her and takes her tear-streaked face in his hands. "Look at me," he speaks slowly, clearly, his eyes fixed on hers, "I will always look at you like this," he inches closer to her, "Every day," closer still, "For as long as you'll let me." He kisses her forehead softly, "You are so much more than who you used to be. And I am so grateful to know you. All of you."
Olivia takes in his words, the sparkle in his eyes when he looks at her. It hasn't changed. Somehow, to this man in front of her, she is still the same person she was yesterday. She doesn't have words right now, just a need to feel his body against hers. She moves his hands from her cheeks and falls into him again. He stretches his legs past her and leans back, bringing her with him. She stretches out too, her head just below his shoulder, and when his arms lock around her, she sighs.
"What happened to him?" Elliot asks after a moment.
She feels his voice resonate in his chest. Her's is small, hoarse from crying, "He's dead," she says plainly.
Elliot won't ask how, not tonight. Tonight, she's had enough. He kisses the crown of her head, "Good."
They don't speak for a long while, content in the comfort and calm they only seem to experience when they're together. Elliot breathes deeply, marvels at how they got here. He thinks back to before, how he never doubted that she'd always be in his life. He remembers the day he left, the day he'd broken every promise he'd ever made to her because he was hurting and scared and so confused. He thinks of the day of the explosion, the way his heart had stopped beating when he saw her for the first time, the way she had held him while he grieved his wife, the way she had said goodbye to him just two days ago. He never thought he'd get the chance to talk to her, to earn her trust back, and he knew that's what he deserved. And yet, somehow, lying here, feeling her breathing even out and her body go slack with sleep, he was absolutely certain this was always how their story was supposed to end. That no matter how hard they tried, in spite of time or distance or anger or fear, they would always find their way back to each other.
He wants to let her sleep forever. He wants to fall asleep, too, if only to know what it's like to wake up to her beside him. But he's sure she has to get home to her son. He gives her a few more minutes of peace, then runs his hand up and down her arm. "Liv," he whispers.
Olivia stirs a bit, then burrows deeper into him. He smiles and tries again, a bit louder this time, "Liv."
She wakes with a gasp, a jolt. He sees her eyes open and search wildly, trying to place her surroundings. It only takes her a second or two to remember where she is and she feels immediately grounded.
"Sorry," he says. She sits up and all he wants to do is pull her back into him.
"No, don't be," she smooths her hair, "How long was I asleep?"
Elliot sits up as well, clears his throat, "15 minutes or so. I didn't want to wake you, but I didn't know what time you needed to get back to Noah."
She looks at him, his eyes so soft and somehow intense at the same time. The way he looks at her makes her heart flutter, and suddenly it's hard to form words, "No, yeah, uh, thanks," she cannot take her eyes off of him, "I should probably relieve the sitter." Still, she makes no show of moving.
There, in her eyes, he finally sees her. All of her. That shadow, her secrets, have been replaced with a sparkle she had always saved for him. She's allowing him to see all of her pieces, old and new, healed and broken. For the first time in a decade, he truly sees her. A wide smile breaks across his face.
She smiles back, small, knowing, "What?" she asks.
"You. You're looking at me," he moves in toward her, "The way you used to look at me." Her eyes flick away from his briefly, but she's drawn right back. His hand comes up and brushes her cheek, then he runs his fingers through her hair. He leans in, his voice a whisper against her, "Olivia, can I-"
She nods and runs her hands up his biceps to his shoulders, "Please."
His mouth seizes hers, as if finally laying claim to something that was always supposed to be his. The feel of him is somehow all at once brand new and completely familiar. He steals her breath and replaces it with his own, and she understands that he is always what she's needed. His passion and his strength and his safety and his heart.
She reaches behind his neck and pulls him closer. Still, he's gentle, allowing himself to feel every sensation, to burn it into his memory. It's a kiss like none he has ever experienced. It consumes his mind, his body, to the very edge of his being. It takes all of his willpower to break away from her, but he knows he has to before he gets completely lost in her.
He takes in her face, the flush of her cheeks, and waits until she opens her eyes, sleepily looking up at him. "I gotta go," she says sadly.
Elliot nods and watches her gather her things. He walks her to the door, but before he opens it, he stops and faces her, "Olivia, you have to know, I had no idea what happened to you. If i did I would've-"
She stops him with a soft finger against his lips, "I know," she says earnestly, "Elliot I never believed you did."
He takes her hand from his lips and kisses her palm. With a shy smile he says, "I love you. Still. Always."
Olivia feels her eyes fill, but she can't help but smile. She leans forward and kisses him softly, "Goodnight, Elliot." She crosses the threshold, and hears the door close behind her, but this time, she has no fear. She knows he'll still be here in the morning.