Author's comments: Begins end of Season 22. This is a Rolivia story—don't be worried by the beginning. I had to start where they were, but it is strongly Rolivia. There are spoilers from all of season 22, including SVU and OC, so if you haven't seen it… Trigger warnings: Throughout the story there are mentions of sexual assault, including r***, and some depictions. Although I try not to be explicit, it may be triggering.

Story of My Life

Chapter One

Part One

Pacing the floor of her carpeted prison, Olivia could see all her own mistakes. Whereas hindsight was twenty-twenty, her vision in the moment always seemed to be impaired, if not blind. If she had noticed the signs, she wouldn't be locked up in this place, feeling more crazy and scared than she'd been even after Lewis. She should have seen the strangeness of her interactions with the uniformed officer from the sixth precinct, right up front. Her own confident stupidity had brought her here, to be caged in this supposedly safe place as she worked through delusions in the shadow of despair.

Two weeks earlier, Olivia had been intently discussing a case with Amanda, and had barely seen the officer as he had approached. He was meek and polite, a little too unassuming to be noticed. But she finally heard him say, "Excuse me."

Irritated at the disruption of her conversation, she had paused mid-sentence and taken a step back. "Can I help you?"

He held out a hand to shake, but she still didn't understand the purpose of his visit. Yet she rewarded him with her hand, now taking in his unremarkable features. If she was going to describe him in a report, she would have said average height, average build, White, close to retirement age. He still had a thin carpet of white hair, and he wasn't bad looking, if slightly on the homely side.

She hated repeating herself. "What can I do for you, Officer-?"

"Oh, Clark. And you're…Captain Benson."

"Right. That's me."

She shot Amanda a glance to see if the detective seemed as bemused by this slightly odd cop. But Amanda didn't betray anything with her expression. She had her poker face down good.

"Oh, well I just had some new information about a case of yours? Or, of SVU's, I mean."

He was a little awkward, but she was always happy for help. "Which case?"

"Uhh…the Schuster case? The one with the woman who was abducted?" Olivia didn't mean to scowl, she was just trying to remember this one case from the dozens they'd gotten in the last week. She made a mental note that she needed to hire a new detective—the workload was growing insane. Officer Clark went on. "The woman who said she was roofied, and woke up in a hotel room?"

Amanda chimed in. "You know, Captain—fake wife?"

Olivia shot her a look. They shouldn't be releasing any details—even to other officers—unless they were on the case.

"Yeah, I know."

Certain cases gave her chills, even after all these years on the job, and this was one of those. There was a craziness that went beyond the usual crazy of New York City. She was used to just about anything right now, she'd seen it all. Still, the vast majority of the time it was reports of flashers or grabbers on the subway, date rapes, crazy exes who had lost all control, and the occasional tragic report of kids being exposed to obscene things that she wished she could scrub from her mind.

But she'd seen much worse. Lewis, with his torture and killing sprees, or parents who killed their children, or kids who had been abused so long that she wondered how anybody could see them and not really see what was happening right under their noses.

This one had elements that made her cringe. A woman in a bar, given something that knocked her out as soon as she exited. A creepy man who chained her up in a hotel room, claiming to be her husband. That's why they called it the "fake wife" case. Jessica Schuster, a fifty-one year-old pharmacist, had never met her abductor, and yet he'd claimed they'd been married for years. She said she didn't know if he actually believed it or not, but by the way the veins popped in his neck she felt that he had fallen for his own delusions. He had forced himself on her, and for five whole days had complete control of her, abusing her at whim.

Fortunately, he'd had to leave the room to stock up on food eventually, and after he'd left, she'd managed to get the attention of a maid, who had called the police. But the man, who had given his name as Mr. Schuster and paid with cash, had never returned, and the hotel had no video. Frustratingly, nobody had noticed a man carrying a drugged full-grown woman into a room in full sight of the public. Not too unusual for New York, but creepy as hell.

"What have you found, Officer Clark?"

It was a sole picture, slipped neatly into a manilla envelope. "This just showed up at our front desk, no name. I guess whoever gave it to us wanted to remain anonymous."

She slid the polaroid out of the envelope and stared at it for a while. Amanda crowded in so close to her that she could hear her quickening breath. It wasn't the best picture—blurry and crooked, like it had been taken in a hurry. But it showed a pick-up truck, silver-gray by the looks of it, parked in front of a hotel room.

Olivia pointed. "The hotel room. Is that the room Jessica stayed in?" She glanced up to see Officer Clark nodding and patted his arm. "Nice job, Officer Clark. But why didn't you just send this over? Why the in-person delivery? Are you guys trying to work the case too?"

He stepped back, waving his hands in front of him. "Oh, no. No, I wouldn't overstep my bounds. I just thought I'd drop it off in case you have any questions."

"Oh, okay." She nodded. "Well, do you have anything to add? Get a description of the delivery person?"

"No, I'm sorry. But we're examining the video footage from the precinct to try and get a better look. Pretty blurry though. And he was wearing a hoodie." He scratched his head. "Or she…"

Olivia gave a curt nod. Clark added, "Oh, and I tried to get in touch with Ms. Schuster, to see if she could identify the vehicle—"

"I thought you said you weren't investigating this case."

"I know, Captain. I'm not trying to step on toes. I just thought if I could get you guys some leads…anyway, I couldn't get ahold of her, so you might want to check in, make sure she's okay."

"Thank you, Officer." She was peeved that he'd went ahead and made this a pet project, but he really did just seem to be trying to help, so she couldn't be too mad. Anyway, it was time for his involvement to end. "We'll let you know if we need anything."

"Y-yes Ma'am," he stuttered. "I'll, uh…I'll be in touch."

After he was on the elevator, Olivia and Amanda exchanged glances. "That was weird," said Amanda. "I've never had a uni drop off a picture in person. Why wouldn't he just courier it?" She pointed and raised her eyebrows. "Unless…he wanted something."

"So what could he possibly want? He didn't even ask for anything."

Sarcasm seeped into Amanda's tone. "I can think of something he might want."

"From me?"
"Oh, don't act shocked. You didn't get a sense that he might have been into you?"

Olivia smirked. "Oh, come on, Amanda. Like I care, anyway."

Amanda feigned shock. "Are you above the common police officer now, Captain?"

Olivia sighed, warm shivers tickling her arms for some reason. It certainly wasn't from Officer Clark. "You know better than that, Amanda. He's just not my type."

"And you got that from a conversation that lasted less than five minutes?"

"Hey." Olivia held out her hand. "I'm a quick judge of character. I should be, after all these years."

"Don't get cocky, now." Amanda chuckled, finally letter her off the roasting spit. "You know I'm just teasing, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

Still, Olivia couldn't shake the nagging sense of doom that had knocked her off balance. There was something off about this case, but maybe it was just her imagination.

Part Two

Amanda worried about Olivia. Her superior seemed lost in a nebulous fog since Elliot's return. Amanda could understand why. She'd noticed that Elliot tended to suck the air out of the room with his intensity.

She loved her boss, in that way that two women working together could. They respected one another, and Olivia took her seriously, which she'd never experienced during her time in Georgia. No good ole' boys in their unit, unless you counted Fin, which was laughable.

She had her own man to stave off though. She'd made the mistake of kissing Carisi, and now she could almost feel the fabric of the universe ripping to allow in an alternative reality that might destroy all sense of sanity.

But, as romantic as the night had felt at the time, after sobering up, something felt off to Amanda. She knew she loved Carisi. But he had a big-brother feel to him, and she didn't want to screw that up by starting something intimate with him. And yet, she tended to have a blind spot when it came to men, and she'd realized after Fin's wedding-slash-not-wedding, what she needed was to get stronger in her own sense of self so that she wouldn't make careless mistakes in love anymore.

And so, she'd joined a yoga class. Therapy was out of the question, after her last counselor had been taken hostage and chained to a radiator. But the new age weirdness that punctuated the seedy New York vibe had finally penetrated Amanda's hard-core Southern stubbornness. Now she did downward dog daily, and it brought up her spirits and brought a spark of…something…out of her. Something healthy.

Since then, she'd put all her new energy into her job, because it was a safe place to channel her sudden motivation.

It meant working more closely with Olivia. For some reason, that put an extra spring in her step, and she wanted to give her all to her job. Now she looked down at the skinny file that Officer Clark had dropped off. When she reached toward it to gently take it from Olivia, her fingers barely brushed Olivia's hand, causing an unexpected shiver to climb up her arm. "I'll take it, Liv. I'll see if I can track down the plates. They're pretty blurry, but maybe with enhancement…"

Olivia nodded. "'Kay. Let me know when you find something out."

Amanda could only guess if Olivia experienced the same shiver when their hands had briefly touched. And then she wondered when she'd become so obsessed with Olivia's thoughts and feelings.

Part Three

Something had sparked when Amanda had taken the file from Olivia, and she wondered if it had been static electricity. Whatever it had been had sent a flush to Olivia's cheeks, and now she turned away to avoid notice. She was just grateful that she had an interesting case and her squad to keep her mind off all the recent emotional events.

The night of Fin's cancelled wedding, she'd had a little too much to drink, and had allowed herself to get sucked back into Elliot's crushing gravity. How naïve was she to begin to fall under his influence once more? It didn't sit well with her. He'd disappeared for a decade, and then showed up spewing apologies and telling her how important she was to him. If she was that important, he would have contacted her. He wouldn't have left in the first place, really. Her stomach wrenched into knots thinking about it.

She gave him the best parts of her life—her youth, her career—all the while waiting around like a dog waiting for scrap. And then he just showed up and she was expected to drop everything anytime he called and come to his rescue. And yet, she had little self-control in the matter. She still cared about him, after all; he had suffered a tragic loss and she didn't want him to spiral downward until he lost control.

But she knew that her job was not to baby-sit, either. And so, after the reception, he had walked her home, but he had also asked her out for a late coffee. She had graciously refused, citing exhaustion. And she knew it was the right decision. Best not to get close to the man who had broken her heart, and was likely to do the same over and over again. Not to say she wouldn't fall into weakness again and cave to his overzealous personality. But that one night, she had stayed strong, and she was proud of herself.

Tonight, she walked home alone, and thought about how lucky she was to have a friend and co-worker like Amanda to watch her back. Since they had gotten past the initial awkwardness of Amanda's attempts to sabotage herself a few years back, she had matured into a dependable, perceptive detective with a dry wit that made Olivia laugh. She felt like out of everyone, she could confide in Amanda the most.

She accelerated her stride, trying to get home in time to eat dinner with Noah. It had been three days since she'd been home early enough to spend time with him. She wanted to at least try and be an involved mother.

As she passed by a bar on her way home, a figure stepped out of the doorway, flicking a cigarette as he walked in front of her. She didn't recognize the man at first, but he stepped back from her and said, "Oops, I'm sorry, didn't mean to…"

Now that he was in the light of the street lamp, she recognized him, even though he was now out of uniform and in civilian clothes. "Officer Clark?"

"Captain?"

She chuckled uneasily. "You following me?"

"Oh, no." He waved his hands. "No, this is where I go to unwind after work. What a coincidence though, huh?"

Such a coincidence, in fact, that she didn't fully buy it. But if he'd gone to such lengths to track her down after work, she wanted to know why. Was he hitting on her? "Yeah, that's strange. Twice in one day."

He nodded. "Oh, hey. Just wanted to let you know, I found out more about that case. I wasn't trying or anything. But my partner found out something, and he told me about it."

"Okay," she said, somewhat dumbfounded.

"Want to step in here for a drink for a minute? I can fill you in—"

"Oh, no thank you, Officer Clark—"

"Please, just Dave."

"Dave. Anyway, I have to get home to my son. Maybe tomorrow?"

"Oh, but it's pretty time-sensitive. It'll only take a minute, I promise. Maybe you could relay it to your folks at SVU?" Probably sensing her hesitancy, he added, "I'm not trying to hit on you, really I'm not. Strictly work. I just…get caught up in the cases I come across, if you can't tell."

"I get it." She ran a hand through her hair before deciding. "Just for a minute though, I really need to get home."

He visibly brightened, which made her feel even more uneasy than she already did. But he was a cop, and this was a public place, and she knew how to defend herself and how to tell a man no. He followed her into the crowded bar, and then waved to an empty table right by the front door. "This way you can get out easier, not have to fight the crowd," he yelled over the noise.

He pulled the chair out for her, and a waitress came surprisingly fast. "Merlot," she said. She was so distracted by this disruption to her evening that she didn't notice what he ordered.

"So, what did you find out?" she said, slightly annoyed at having to prompt him after telling him she was in a hurry.

"Well, the victim, Ms. Schuster, has disappeared. Someone tried to file a missing persons report today—"

"Who?"

"Her grown son. He says he hasn't seen her in the last couple of days, and she's not answering phone calls either."

"That is concerning. Has someone gone by her apartment?"

The drinks came, and Olivia took a sip. Clark downed a gulp of his drink. "Yeah, her son has a key, and he says there's no sign of her, but her keys are there, along with her purse." He reached down to his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Excuse me, I'm getting a call."

She watched him step outside, and then checked her own phone for messages. There were none, but she wondered if she should shoot one to Lucy, Noah's babysitter, just to let her know she would be delayed. Turning her back to the window, she began on the text, revising it several times before hitting send. In the end, all she typed was, "Got delayed by work, but will still be home soon."

When she turned back around, Clark was back in his seat, examining his phone. "Sorry, I thought it might be about the case, but it was something else." He looked up at her. "Anyway, I just thought you all might want to be aware that we have a missing vic."

"Thank you, Dave. I really do appreciate the heads up." She guzzled half her glass now, ready to be on her way. "In fact, I'm going to call one of my detectives tonight and see if I can get them on it."

He gave her an expectant look, but she didn't understand what he was expecting. She downed the rest of her glass. Best to get this show on the road before he got the wrong idea. "Anyway," she continued, "I really appreciate your…help."

Confusion set in as she slurred the last few words of her sentence. She stood, but just barely, because the room spun and the air felt too heavy, weighted, and standing suddenly required the same effort as lifting a large boulder. She'd only had one drink. So why was everyone around her just a blur of jumbled noises and sweaty flesh?

She became vaguely aware of Clark's presence at her side, his arm supporting her as he guided her to the door. "Whoa, Captain, you okay?"

But he didn't pause from sweeping her outside into the welcoming cool night air. And too late, she realized the mistake she'd made and the enormous consequences of it. "You," she managed to sputter.

There was a van parked directly in front of them, and in her haze she was barely cognizant of his arm guiding her to it and into it, and then she was lying on her side on the carpeted floor of the passenger cabin, paralyzed by the weight of her own body. The seats had been removed, and now she knew exactly how much planning had gone into his actions.

She shot him one last pleading look. "Please…don't…" But he slammed the door shut, locking her into the oblivion of her own unconsciousness.