This is one of my favourite chapters! It started off as one but got really long so I've split it into 8 and 9. These two chapters are very much about Olivia and Elliot, but I promise, I will get back to the burton storyline after and Elliot will be involved in sorting that out.

I hope you enjoy!

Trigger warnings for the Lewis arc.

As always, mistakes are my own and I love reviews so feel free to let me know what you think.

Chapter 9

The ride in the elevator is silent but they do stand side by side, their arms brush up against each other with the movement of the elevator. As they walk outside of her building, she curls her arms around his and they walk toward the end of her block. Still silent but both implicitly and explicitly connected.

They are about two blocks away from her building, the mood a little less jovial than it had been when they walked out of her apartment. Both were walking aimlessly, their only connection being their arms. This kind of touch was foreign to them. Any kind of prolonged physical contact was always off limits. But now…, now they could. They could touch each other without it being aggressive or fearful. They could hold each other if they wanted to, just like they had earlier that night. This was all so ne. overwhelming.

With being confronted with the realisation, they both simultaneously began to think back. In their own minds but stuck in the same memory.

It was a hallway. Tears flowing freely down her face, blood stains on her knees where she had knelt over the ADA's lifeless body on the floor of a bathroom. The few steps it took to get out of that bathroom had felt like miles. Melinda had whispered some comforting words as she passed by, none of them really registering. She turned the corner, and he was there, running toward her.

He held her and she held him back. It was only a few seconds, but it was enough. They pulled away and went back to being cops, a sadness gained by the loss of his touch.

His plane was late. While he was waiting to get off the plane, he turned his phone on. Several messages from Cragen appeared on the screen. He listened to the voicemail first.

Liv was there all by herself, dealing with the death of their friend. He needed to get to her. There was no other logical thing to do. He forced his way off of the plane, earning himself a few "fuck you's". When he finally made it out of the terminal, he made a beeline to the nearest cab and was headed straight for her.

When he arrived, there were patrol cars out front and the OCME van parked around the side. Flashing his badge, he made it past the uni's at the door and continued his search for Liv. He turned a corner and as soon as he saw her, he started to jog, run really. in seconds, she was in his arms.

"I should've come back sooner"

"I should've come back sooner" he whispers, sliding his arm to grasp her hand.

"I should never have left"

There back in reality now. on a sidewalk somewhere in Manhattan, about four blocks from her apartment.

They are both thinking the same thing. His guilt. Her sadness. It can mean many things but tonight, in the harsh cold of the night, it meant this.

"His name was William Lewis."

Its barely a whisper but they both know what it means. This is the conversation now. It's not about Burton, or Noah or Elliot. This is about her. She is in the safety of streetlights with Elliot Stabler holding her hand. She wants to tell him, for herself.

Gripping her hand, a little bit tighter, he nods. He knew this was coming but didn't think it would be tonight. Before this, his concern was based purely on a gut feeling and he had simply prayed that he was wrong. But now, her confirmation, the name of the monster, it had his stomach in knots. He couldn't fall apart though; this was for her. He needed to be strong for her.

"It was about eight years ago" she continues. "He was perp, we couldn't really find that much out about him. He always seemed to slip through the cracks. He was a sadist, and he took a shine to me."

She takes a breath and turns her head to see if there is any incoming traffic before they cross the road.

"The case had just fell through and Cragen had given me a few days off. I went home and he was there… waiting for me. He got me. Knocked me out, tied me up. He held me in my apartment for about a day. He burnt me… with keys… hangers. Hit me a few times and filled me with vodka. There were pills as well. I was pretty out of it."

She pauses now and looks up at him. They are still walking, and he is staring at his shoes. Satisfied that he is okay, for now, she goes on.

"He moved me. We drove for a while; I was tied up and covered in the back seat. He drove us to his lawyer's parents' house and attacked them, right in front of me. There was nothing I could do. He killed the father and made me watch him as he raped the mother."

His mouth fell open then, "My god Liv…". He choked back a sob.

"After that, he took be to this abandoned beach house. Cuffed me to the bed." She fell silent.

"He hurt me… he humiliated me." She stopped walking now, instead turning both of them so that they were facing each other. She looks at him in the eye and he raised his eyes from his shoes up to meet hers.

"He didn't rape me, Elliot. I am alive. I survived. After four days, I managed to get free and beat this shit out of him with a metal bar. I am alive, Elliot."

His eyes are brimming with tears and his hands are holding onto her. He lets out a sob. Just one. He needs to be here. Be here for her, now. This is about her, he reminds himself.

"I'm alive and he is not. My squad eventually found me at a beach house but by then I'd already managed to subdue him. I beat him, I thought I'd killed him but turns out I didn't. The whole thing went to trial which wasn't fun to say the least, but he went away."

She is trying to reassure him now. She shouldn't have to. He scolds himself.

Still processing her words, Elliot begins to imagine different ways which he could kill this man. There were so many possibilities that would be quite satisfying. But, as he thinks of them, he remembers, "he is not". She had said he was dead. The story wasn't over yet. At that, he swallowed, parting his lips, as if to say something but the words wouldn't come out.

Recognising his silent question, she continues "He got out. Escaped. Went on a killing spree and kidnapped a little girl.Threatened to kill her if I didn't come to him. It was only a few hours, but he assaulted me again. He made me chose. Me or the girl." She closes her eyes for a minute, trying to shake the memory.

"We played Russian Roulette and he shot himself, inches from my face. It took them a while to believe that I hadn't killed him. Even tried to indict me".

She takes a deep breath. The kind of breath that moves her whole body.

"It took a while, lots of support and therapy, but I got my life back. But… I'd be lying If I said that I doesn't affect me. There are flashbacks, less so now but every so often… on nights like tonight, it's hard".

It's his turn now. The story has been told. He is pale, tears have stained his face, but he is silent. He has let her speak.

They are still standing on the sidewalk, their arms gripping each other. There are no words to be spoken. Nothing can articulate what he feels. The only thing he can do it hold her.

He wraps his arms around her, consuming her. He is squeezing her to the point it probably hurts but her can't help it. He needs to feel her, know that she is alive.

The love he has for this woman is indescribable. She is awe inspiring. What she has been through, the trauma, the loss. Yet, she still fights. He is humbled to simply know her.

"Liv" she says, and he releases his hold on her.

"Elliot lets go home. I'm tired".

It doesn't feel like how this conversation should end, but it's what she wants right now and that's all that matter.

They turn back and begin walking toward her apartment. They are silent again but still holding on to each other. Still connected. Still communicating.