Here we go...
His touches have changed. They've gone from sexual to intimate. And Jesus, I never fucking knew there was such a difference between the two. He was touching me like he couldn't wait to get my back to the room to fuck me, and goddamn. But now he's touching me like although he's thinking about sex, it's the last thing on his mind. He just wants to touch me, to hold me, to let me know he's here. To remind himself that I'm here.
His hand caresses mine on the way back to the hotel, his fingers dig into my waist to hold me against him, his lips dropping a kiss to my temple every now and then on the way to the elevator. And when we step in, he steps behind me. His hands coming up to wrap around my stomach. I lean my body against him and god, this is nice. Really nice.
When I sigh and roll my neck a little bit back against his left shoulder, because really, this feels so good right now, I not only hear him inhale, I feel him inhale. His lips skim against a spot on my neck softly, his breath blow onto my sensitive skin and did I really just shiver?
"You smell good," he whispers. His lips finally placing a soft kiss on my neck.
I moan lightly, turn my neck slightly to, I guess, give him more room to explore. Because this man just keeps doing this to me right after I've calmed my body down. How the hell are we going to have this conversation if he keeps seducing me like this? If my body keeps responding like this? But he feels so good, I feel so good, and I just want to keep feeling good for as long as possible. "Maison Francis." I try to use my best Italian accent but really, I fucking suck at all my accents. A perfume I had smelled a sample of years ago. When we were partners and I could never afford it on a detective salary. Once I moved up, I decided to splurge one day and have never let go of the rose smelled luxury.
"Expensive?" He asks, like he already doesn't know the answer to that. It smells expensive. His lips are still continuously pressing lightly against my neck and mmm. My body is buzzing.
"Very. One of my few luxuries."
"What did you used to wear?" His nose has dropped into the crook of my neck again and this time, his tongue comes out to run across my skin. Fuck.
What did I used to wear? When we were partners? "Didn't really have a specific one. Just as long as it smelled like..."
"Vanilla."
Holy shit. Yes, we did just answer that at the same time.
"And now it's roses" He whispers, his tongue still darting out to taste my skin. "When I saw you again I was expecting vanilla and I got roses. Fuck, it makes me want you even more."
Okay, the last thing I ever expected Elliot to be was a talker. But through most of our intimate moments thus far, he has, quite literally, talked me through them. And fuck, he's good at it. Really good at using his voice to his advantage. He knows I like it, so he's going to keep using it. The man has never even gotten my clothes off and he already knows a handful of things that I like. A handful of things that make my knees weak, my clit throb and my body pulse with pleasure.
His teeth nip against that one spot on my neck and Jesus Christ, I'm so fucking turned on again. "El..." I whisper.
"Hmm?" He mumbles, his lips firmly against my skin.
I laugh lightly because this asshole knows exactly what he's doing to me. "You're good at this," I say quietly. He's good at making me slick with desire. Already knows exactly what he has to do to make me want him, to make me long for him.
His hands tighten against my stomach, his teeth nip my skin again and he hums, "And there's still so much to learn."
God. Isn't that the truth? He's barely scratched the surface of my body, of me, of what I like, and he's going to take his time learning ALL of it. Fuck, I don't even know if I know all of it anymore but I'm willing to figure it out with him. Without a doubt.
"I don't doubt you'll learn all of it." I really fucking don't. And since he's talking, I might as well talk to.
I can feel him smile against my skin, sink an open mouth kiss against my neck and as the elevator doors open in front of us, he asks, "Are you still really wet?"
I moan softly, as if he doesn't know the answer to that question, and allow him to keep his body pressed against mine, his hands holding me to him as we make the way down the hall to our room. "Very." I can feel his erection against my ass, can feel how fucking hard he is and this poor man. I really need to get my hands on him. "Probably not as hard as you are. I'm already one orgasm in today."
He groans, pushes his hips against me and of course, out of reflex, I push mine back against him because really, the man needs some relief. His hands grab my hips instantly to still me and he growls, "Olivia."
I think it's a warning and it makes me smile. "I'm just trying to give you some relief, El."
We're at the door now, so as I'm reaching in my purse for the room key because I obviously forgot we need it to get in our fucking room, his lips lean in close to my ear, close enough, once again, to caress my lobe, "I already had some relief today."
Fuck. He did take care of himself while I was getting ready and shit, just the thought of this man stroking himself with me in the next room makes me clench. "El..."
"Don't worry, Liv. Thought about you wet and naked in the shower the whole time."
I've finally got the room key out of my purse and thank fucking God because with him talking like this, we seriously need to get into the room as soon as possible. I'm running the key along the scanner to unlock it when I say, "I would have helped." I really fucking would have. I would have helped at my place that one night also but for some reason he keeps denying both of us that pleasure.
I'm pushing the door open, he's stepping us forward, his hands are moving up along my torso, settling just under the swell of my breasts and goddamn, I fucking don't even know what he's doing to me anymore. "I know. But the first time I come with you, I want to come inside of you."
His voice is hushed, his lips are skimming across my ear, he's closing the door behind us and fuck. I really don't know what he's doing to me. I've never been so fucking turned on in my life. My clit is throbbing, I swear I keep gushing and I've never really gushed in my life, well I mean when we were partners there were a few times but at my age I really shouldn't be gushing like this, and I guess that's just a specific Elliot thing, my thighs are wet from my own arousal, I'm clenching and okay. I whisper an, "Elliot," once more because damn. He wants to come inside of me. Which means he wants no barrier between us and God, I've never wanted any barrier between us either.
He turns me slowly, pushes me back gently by the hips and I'm not sure what he's doing but when my knees hit the couch in the hallway, he says, "Sit." Which I do because I'm really not capable of denying him right now. I still don't know what he's doing but when he kneels in front of me to remove my heels, I swear my heart fucking sores. He knows my ankle must be hurting, which it is, and he wants to relieve me of them as soon as possible This man.
I watch him pull each heel off, watch him as he sensually glides his hands across the heels of my feet and I cannot contain my small laugh. Yes, my feet are ticklish. Who doesn't have ticklish feet? He smiles, another discovery of me that I'm sure he's categorizing away, and when his eyes meet mine, I can tell that whatever he's going to say next is serious.
"Unless... I mean..." Elliot nervous is something new, something intriguing, something I actually kind of like. It's kind of sweet, although I'm sure he wouldn't like that word much, that a man who is so hardcore out of the bedroom is actually really nervous in the bedroom. For the most part I kept my personal life out of our partnership but Elliot knows I'm nowhere close to a virgin and I don't think he cares about my number, just like I don't care about his. It doesn't mean anything to what we are, to what we're about to be.
I want him to know, that when it comes to this aspect of our relationship, the sexual part, or any part actually, he can ask me for anything. "Elliot?"
He takes a deep breath, tries again, his hands running up my ankles, over my calves, "Unless you want to use protection. We can do that if..."
"I want to feel all of you, El." All of him. Just like he wants to feel all of me.
He smiles, leans forward to kiss me and I know his knees must be killing him but he must not care because he's not making any effort to stand up, any effort to break his lips from mine. And God, who knew he would be such a good fucking kisser. His lips consume mine, his hands run up my legs, over my dress and when he pulls his lips from me, I'm breathless.
"I'm glad you said that. I really didn't want to have run out and get condoms."
I laugh out loud with that. Of course this man is always going to find a way to make me laugh. "Don't worry. If I thought we needed them, I would have packed them." We all know Elliot probably doesn't even know what a condom is and I swear to God, he better have used them with the Albanian bitch. But I don't think Elliot would ever put my health at risk and I can guarantee he got tested afterwards, even if he did use protection. For the same fucking reason I got tested after Burt.
He cracks a grin because he knows I'm telling the truth right now and leans forward to connect our lips once more. His hands move up my thighs, over my hips, to rest on my sides. Thankfully my dress is loose enough to allow my thighs to open just enough for him to move closer to me on his knees. His arms wrap around my back, mine wrap around his neck, our chest press together. And God, just being held by this man is amazing.
It would be easy to kiss him forever, easy to let him start unzipping my dress but we're supposed to talk. I'm supposed to talk to him. But I can use this. I can use how connected we are, how good he feels to my advantage. If I can stay wrapped up in him while I tell him my trauma, it will be easier for me. So I pull my lips from his, trail my lips sensually along his jaw, ask him, "How are your knees?" Because I mean, I know they're not the best knees anymore.
He lets out a sound between a grunt and a chuckle, "Doesn't matter." His hands rub up and down my back slowly, his fingertips digging into my muscles perfectly, "I'm too consumed in touching you. God, Liv. I've always wanted to touch you."
I hum. How many times have I wanted to touch this man? Over the 24 years I've known of his existence? It's just surreal that it's actually happening. And to know that this is just the beginning of what is going to transpire between us during this trip, I understand being so overwhelmed. But, we have to talk. And I need to tell him that. My hands slide along the back of his neck, my hands smoothing against his broad shoulders and really, why the fuck is he still so fucking muscular?
Then my eyes find his, those icy blues that have always brought me comfort when I've needed it, even just the memory of them. With a breath I say, "We need to talk."
Something happened to me when you were gone. Something bad. And one day, one day, I'll tell you.
I can see the second it registers for him that that day is today. Because although I have told him something bad happened, I didn't even give him any type of hint. Now, now, he's going to know.
He nods, sadly, but nods. I lean forward, kiss his lips lightly. I want us to be on the bed, I want the blinds open so we can see the color of the falls, I want to get the fuck out of this dress so I can be completely comfortable. "Let me change and then we'll talk."
He nods, "Okay, Liv."
"Can you get up?" I laugh because I just can't help it.
He mugs me slightly, "Think you have jokes, Benson?"
"No, you just have bad knees."
He grunts a 'whatever' and I listen to his knees crack as he finally stands to his feet. Yeah. Those knees are definitely not the same anymore. He helps me stand, kisses me once more and I kiss him once more because really, he's here for me to keep kissing.
"I'll be out here," he says.
I nod. "Okay."
The bathroom is a sanctuary that I really don't need right now. What I need is Elliot, Elliot's arms wrapped around me, Elliot's voice soothing me. And that want is what makes me quickly, really quickly get this fucking dress off of me.
Even though we're about to talk about something serious, I want it to be as intimate as possible. Elliot's presence calms me, it always has. And his touch? God, I can feel my heart beat slow down because of it. So I want to feel as much of him as I can. I really hope he is changing too. Preferably into a pair of those fucking sweatpants and... nothing else because the man's chest? God. I made sure to bring the thinnest pajamas I could fine. A pair of silk bottoms, a thin long sleeve and fuck it, nothing else. I pull my bra and underwear off, put my pajamas on, wash my face, run my fingers through my curls to break them up some, brush my teeth because I'm in here and I might as well. Do a look over at myself, like I don't already know what I look like and take a deep breath.
He scares the shit out of me when I open the door. I don't know where I was expecting him to be but when he's leaning against the wall right next to the door, his foot propped up on the wall, his eyes looking at the falls, I quite literally almost piss myself. I jump and he chuckles out a, "Sorry."
"Jesus, Elliot."
He chuckles again, like scaring me is really that fucking funny. "I'm sorry. I was just waiting for the bathroom."
"Well, warn me next time."
"My bad, Benson."
I can't help but smile and when I step out of his way he runs his hand softly along my hips as he passes by me. Yeah, the man really does like to touch. I go around the room, switching light switches on and off, trying to find the perfect lighting. Lighting really can change a whole mood and when I finally settle on the big lamp in the living space being on because really, it provides just the right amount of light to make it so we can one another in the room without being blinded I move to the bed, throw the blankets back enough for both of us and take my spot on the right side. I'm not sure if Elliot has a preferred side, but the right side? It's mine and he's going to have to deal with that. Although I'm pretty sure he knows that by now. This isn't the first time we've shared a bed. My eyes focus on the many colors of the falls outside our window and Jesus, they're so pretty. Who knew water could be so pretty.
I'm... meditating. That's what I would call it. Deep breaths in and out just like Lindstrom had taught me all those years ago when I hear the bathroom door open. My eyes fall on him, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and that just won't do. "Take your shirt off," I tell him. I don't even care if I sound demanding because it needs to come off. I need to feel his skin and luckily Elliot doesn't question me. I don't think he'll ever question me. Right when he hits his side of the bed, he smiles and pulls his tank top off. Yum. Seriously. Yum. I still don't think it's normal for an almost 60 year old man to look this fucking good but goddamn, as long as I'm the only one who gets to have him now, I'm not even going to question it.
He crawls into bed next to me, settles under the blankets like I have, turns his body towards mine and props his head up with his hand so he can look at me. I reach out to run my hand along his side and our scoot closer to one another is perfect timing. Our chests are pressed together, my hand is wrapped around his bare back, his is wrapped around my barely clothed one and when his hand takes a soothing motion against my spine I sigh. Why do I have to do this right now?
"Talk to me, Liv."
His eyes are on mine and Jesus, I'm going to cry already. I haven't even started and I'm going to cry. My eyes are welled with tears and he leans forward to press his forehead against mine, "Please, tell me."
I take a shaky breath. I'm not sure where to start because I've actually never really have done this before. I've given brief details to officers, detectives, Dr. Lindstrom, but everything? I've never told anyone everything. And I want to tell Elliot everything. Everything I've kept hidden about those four horrific days for nine years. And I guess the best place to start is... the beginning. "2013. Where were you?" I ask because the biggest mystery of all of this... is that he doesn't know. Elliot has no fucking idea and I just don't understand that. My face was plastered everywhere. Not just the four days I was missing but months after during the trial. When he escaped and did it again.
"2013?" He's thinking. So I let him think, because I need to know. I need to know why he doesn't know. Why he didn't know. Why he didn't come for me. "I was already working for the underground task force in Rome. I think at that time we were working a pretty major sex trafficking case. Girls being distributed throughout the world."
"Did you have access to a TV? Or newspapers?"
"Um. I mean I'm sure Kathy watched TV at home but I was always gone and we didn't have much time to turn the TV on at work."
Kathy had one at home? So does that mean she knew? She knew and didn't tell him? Would she do something like that? I mean, she did write that letter but that's nothing compared to not telling her husband that his partner of 12 years, his partner that he cared deeply for, was kidnapped by a monster. Does it really even matter at this point if she knew? The woman is dead now and there's no use being angry at someone who is no longer with us.
So I take another deep breath, "We got a call about a perp in the park. A perp who was flashing himself. Amanda pulled him in and something, something didn't sit right with her with this one. So, she called us all in. And she was right, something was wrong with him. Really wrong with him. No fingerprints, his background included a variety of sadistic acts that he was never found guilty for. And he just looked... evil." He did and he was. God, just the thought of his face makes me nauseous. Elliot doesn't speak but I can hear the gears turning in his head, can feel his grip tighten against my back. His eyes never leave mine and I find my calmness in them. "He was able to seduce his lawyer and got off with indecent exposure. But then he rapes and tortures the lady who called us for his indecent exposure. Tried to claim insanity, woman died so we lost our witness , said we had a vendetta against him because him and I got into it pretty good in the interrogation room and was able to get off. Biggest bullshit call I've ever seen in a courtroom." This part? This part is easy for me to talk about. It doesn't involve me... yet. But... "I come home the night he's released and Brian was supposed to be there. We were supposed to hang out that night, so I was expecting him to be in my apartment. Except, it wasn't Brian there. It was him. William Lewis." His name tastes like garbage and I absolutely hate saying it. I despise saying it and this is the only time during this conversation that I will say it.
I can see the fear, the anger, in Elliot's eyes as soon as I say that. So I press myself farther against him. I haven't even began and he needs to keep it together for me to get through all of this. He seems to understand, because he tries to soften his face, holds me tighter against him. Tight enough to let me know he's not letting me go but loose enough so we can still look in one another's eyes.
"He had a gun. And I had my gun but I don't know. I still don't know why I just fucking froze the way I did. I just let him gain the power on me." He goes to open his mouth, but I don't need a therapy session right now. I've had enough of those. I just want him to listen. I want him to feel. So, I press my fingers against his lips, shake my head. And he nods, kisses my fingers gently, then my forehead once I remove them. He knows now. And he won't attempt to do it again. "I was just so... scared. He scared me. He scared me the first time I ever met him in that interrogation room. And I froze. And by the time I thawed," literally, "he already had my gun in his hand too. I thought I had some hope. Tried to tell him that my boyfriend was going to be there any minute and he wasn't going to get away with it. But Brian... he canceled. We always canceled on one another and at that point our relationship was more of a physical thing, I guess it always was, and Cragen gave me the weekend off, and..." No one knew. "I knew, I knew then that it was going to be bad. I didn't want to die and when I tried to run to my front door, he just blocked my body and smacked me in the head with the butt of my gun. Knocked me clear out." The first time that I have no idea what he fucking did to me while I was out. I don't know what he did to me all those times I was out. "I woke up to the pain of a cigarette burning against my chest. I was bind and gagged. And God, the smell. I remember the smell of my own flesh just as much as I remember the pain." My eyes close, my mind bringing me right back to that moment. It hurt, they hurt, so bad. I can remember every single one. And my breathing quickens, my heartbeat races, my hands shake, and then I hear him.
"Liv. Open your eyes." His hand is on the side of my face, his thumb stroking my skin softly and he feels good. He always feels so good. "Look at me, Olivia." I open my eyes. Find peace once again in his blue ones. "I'm here. You're safe here, with me. You've always been safe with me." Always.
I nod, lean forward to kiss him because I have to kiss him. I have to feel him. And he let's me. A long and sensual kiss, with his fingers threaded in my hair, and my hands roaming his bare back. It's not at all sexual, it's intimate. And God, I think intimate has now become my favorite word. When we pull away, I take another breath because my nightmare isn't over yet. "I can remember every one of them. Cigarettes, hangers, my fucking mailbox key. And they're... everywhere." I gesture to my chest, move my hand from my shoulders to my thighs, so he knows. So he knows I'm marked, everywhere. "He got off on causing me pain and he made sure to cause it. And once he realized I was trying to negotiate with him, trying to be a cop, he started shoving pills and alcohol down my throat. I don't... I don't remember much. My mind, it's fuzzy. Memories are scattered and I always get mixed up on the timeliness. I woke once tied to my bed with him just staring at me, rubbing himself through his pants and I tried, so hard," so fucking hard, "to keep my eyes open but I couldn't. I was so high, so drunk, in so much pain. I just... I couldn't. I don't know what he did to me, I will never know, what he did to me when I was out like I was." And that's the worst part of all. Because I know what he did to me when I was awake. Just to think what he did to me when I was passed out.
"I remember him shoving me in a car. I don't know how he managed to get me downstairs without anyone noticing but he did. I vaguely remember the walk to the car and then the next thing I know, I'm watching him, watching him rape and torture the mother of his attorney. Sat tied to a chair with this woman's eyes glued on mine while she was raped and tortured. Like she was trying to find strength in my eyes. Every time I would close them, he would hurt her more. I watched it happen and I swear all I kept thinking was that that's what he was going to do to me. He was going to rape me and there was nothing I would be able to do to stop him. I watched him tie her in the closet and then we were moving again. In a different car, me shoved in the backseat and by then my face and his face was everywhere. Because of Brian thinking I was working and the unit thinking I was with Brian, no one even realized I was missing until Monday."
He opens his mouth again and I wait because he doesn't look like he wants to give me a therapy session, he looks like he wants to ask a question. "When did he take you? Friday or Saturday night?"
"Friday..."
"Jesus..." He leans forward again, places a kiss against my forehead and then he's silent. Like he wants to hear all of it and he's ready to hear all of it.
"I just remember being so thirsty and he wouldn't give me anything but vodka. I had to pee, so fucking bad, but I knew what that meant and I was not about to let him pull my pants down any more than he already had. On the way to the beach house, which is where he ended up taking me, we got pulled over by a cop and I thought, finally, but nothing is that easy. Of course nothing is that easy and instead of being saved, more people were killed and I just ended up shoved in a trunk of a different trunk. At this point the pills had worn off some, so my memory is a little more clear and when I sat down in that chair at the beach house, he knew I had to use the bathroom. And really, I would have rather pissed myself, which is what I was going to do but there was no way he was going to allow that." I take one more breath to steady myself, run my hand along the back of his head, "I didn't want him to help me. I didn't want him to touch me but he kept me handcuffed, gave me no choice but to pull my pants down himself. And of course, I couldn't just use the fucking bathroom. I had to ask him nicely, had to stand completely fucking still as he..." This. A part I've never told anyone before. A part that I've been ashamed of for years. Tears are already rolling down my cheeks because I was supposed to protect myself, I could have protected myself. Elliot holds me tighter and I can see the tears in his eyes as well. I lean my lips forward because again, I need to kiss him one more time before I tell him this part. And he kisses me. Just like he kissed me last time, with as much emotion as always. I really don't want to pull away but I have to. "He made it a game. I had to come before I could use the bathroom. My mouth was still duct taped, so I couldn't tell him to fuck off but he knew. He knew by my eyes that I was a fighter and he told me if I didn't play along, he was just going to rape me. And he would have. I know he would have. Right then and there he would have. So, I just stood still. Thought I could make myself orgasm quickly. How many times have we told women that an orgasm is a physiological response to stimulation? We can't help that they happen. And my plan was that I was going to fight him, really fight him when he actually tried to rape me and I already had no energy left to fight. So I... let him. Let him put his... um." Fuck, I'm sobbing now, Elliot is crying and he looks like he's stuck between wanting to hit something and wanting to throw up. "Fingers inside of me. I was, obviously, dry and it hurt, really bad. And he made sure it hurt. Three all at once, in one big thrust. I've always been one that it takes me a second to… adjust," something Elliot is going to find out really soon, so I may as well just tell him so he knows, "It knocked the air out of my lungs and with my bladder so goddamn full, everything was just so fucking painful. There was no way, no way I was going to come. But my body betrayed me, of course it betrayed me. I wasn't supposed to start to get wet, but I did and he felt it the second it started to happen. The second my body did what a woman's body does. And there was no fucking way. No way I was going to come. So I... tried to fake it. Squeezed my inner muscles really hard but I must have been doing a piss fucking job at it because he just kept thrusting and thrusting and I kept trying and trying to stop it. It was one of the hardest inner battles I have ever fought with myself. My mind continuously telling my body no and my body continuously telling my mind that it couldn't help it. And when it finally did happen, he laughed. Told me I liked it and held up his end of the deal, let me use the bathroom. Then handcuffed me to the bed." I think about taking a break, I really should take a break after that, for the both of us, but I just want to finish. I just want this over with. And I'm scared if I stop now, I may not finish later.
"He taunted me. Taunted me with... you. Asked me if there was anyone I wanted to see again. And I tried, I tried so hard to remain strong. So hard. But I just, I didn't want to die. I wasn't ready to die, so I begged him. Begged him to let me live and as soon as he went to cut my clothes off of me, someone came through the front door, the maid and her daughter coming to clean the house. And I knew what he was going to do, he knew what he was going to do and I couldn't, couldn't let that happen again. So as I told him that he preyed on woman who couldn't protect themselves and that he could never get it up for a real woman because he had yet to rape me, I twisted the bedpost." Hard. So hard. Because I had to protect them. "Right as he was unbuckling his pants, I broke free. Fought back. Handcuffed him to the ground, piston whipped him like he had done to me. That's where your badge was, is. The mag of my gun in an evidence box." I don't know I threw that in there but I feel like it was the perfect time to tell him. To tell him that I carried that with me as well. His eyes sadden more but I just keep talking. "I should have called the police. But... I didn't. I let the maid and her daughter go. Assured them I was police, threatened interrogation and convinced them to leave. And when he woke up he started telling me about his childhood. About how he watched his father rape his babysitter and I thought he wanted sympathy. No, he just wanted to tell me how exhilarating that was for him. How it changed his fucking life." Sick fucking bastard.
"I threatened to kill him. To torture him like he tortured me. Like he tortured so many others. He knew about you too. And I used you. Said if you were still there, you would have killed him. Would have never thought twice about killing him. And he said I couldn't do it. I wasn't made to kill and when I put the gun down because he was right, I'm not a killer like him, he laughed at me. And I snapped. Let the monster inside of me win. Beat the shit out of him with that bed post. Beat him to the point that I thought he was dead. But he wasn't. My squad showed up not long after. They figured out where I was and at that point I had been gone four days. His trial was just as fucking hard. He wanted to keep torturing me, even after. And I freaked. Thought I was going to lose my badge because I broke the law. He was handcuffed to a bed when I beat him, so I committed perjury on the stand saying that he was attacking me and I fought back. At one point he agreed to take a deal if I admitted to rape and sodomy. But he never raped me," with his penis, "He never sodomized me and there was no way i was going to allow everyone to think he did. He decided to represent himself, so I had to tolerate looking at him questioning me. Told everyone how bad I injured him. He accused me of being obsessed with him. That I was making all this up because he refused my sexual advances. Claimed that I was into being burned, that I liked it. That everything that happened between us was consensual. They found him guilty of kidnapping but not attempted rape and I thought it was over for at least 25 years."
That's how it was supposed to be. But Lewis, Lewis was something else. "He got put in the hospital for some sort of seizure four months later. Escaped." I hear Elliot's sharp intake of breath. Yes, it still wasn't over for me. "I had made Sergeant by that time and he left me a voicemail, 'I missed you sunshine,' and proceeded to kill a young boy, rape a little girl and kidnap another one. Left a message saying I had to tell the truth or the girl died. So I did, of course I did. Made a public statement that I had committed perjury on the stand and that I was apologetic for lying. But of course, that wasn't good enough for him. He wanted to meet me. Said the girl would die if I didn't. I had to come alone and I had to keep my mouth shut. And I did. Because I should have killed him. He shouldn't have even been alive to keep being a monster. And when I got there, I told him to rape me. Leave the young girl alone and rape me. It was better me than her. I was dead on the inside already anyways. He had killed me. Had killed pieces of me that I have never seen again." Never. "I didn't fight him. Just laid there and prepared myself. But he didn't like that. He liked the fight and couldn't get it up. It was an advantage that I hadn't even realized because really, I was prepared to have what was left of me killed. So, he made me play Russian Rollette instead. We took turns shooting ourselves in the head with a 6 chamber gun with one bullet. Whoever died first, lost. And like I said. I was already dead, Elliot."
I address him here so he knows. So he knows how fucking empty I was. How I had not only lost him, I had lost my soul. There are tears streaming down his face, tears streaming down mine. Because Lewis, he took me. He took the woman that Elliot fell in love with all those years ago and left an empty shell. "I watched him blow his brains out. Got my gun taken away until I was cleared of not being his shooter. Had to fight to keep my badge because of my perjury. And I was gone. I was gone for so long. Brian, he was good to me. He helped me with everything. I learned to enjoy sex again with him because he was patient and kind. And although he could barely look at my body, he was still there. He loved me, said I was the love of his life when I broke up with him but he knew he wasn't mine."
I take another deep breath to try to steady my breaths and say, "Noah. Noah is the reason I'm not empty anymore. He saved me. I whole heatedly believe that I survived the hardest time of my life for him. That I pushed and fought for him. And him? He made me whole again. As whole as I am able to be again. There are pieces of me missing, there's a shadow I carry every day, I can hardly look at myself in the mirror but I've healed. As much as I can heal. And I just... I just want you to know that I'm not the Olivia Benson you left Elliot. You need to understand that before we take this final step into our relationship."
His lips are trembling, his hands are shaking, there are tears still escaping and he still looks like he either wants to throw something or need to throw vomit. I'm not sure which one is coming but I know when he goes to move, one of them is. And when I see his Adam's apple Bob, I know exactly which one is. We're always so in sync because as I push against his body to get him the fuck off the bed, he's standing and stumbling in the direction to the bathroom.
Well, that was his intention, but when I realize he's not going to make it to the toilet, I jump up and grab the garbage can in the corner of the room. I barely have it under his mouth before he's clutching at it and bending over. His heaves and the sound of liquid hitting the bottom of the bin make me nauseous but I can't leave his side right now and I wrap my arms around his torso from behind, press my front to his back so he knows I'm here with him.
The motion makes him start sobbing and that makes me start to sob once more too. My tears streaming down his bare back and I'm tired. I'm so tired that I can't physically stand anymore and when I start to move my body downwards, because fuck, I need to sit down, he moves with me. Sits between my open legs on the ground, with my arms wrapped around him.
I have had 9 years to process what has happened to me. And I still have days that I don't want to face the sun. Elliot has had the last hour and it's hitting him just as hard as it used to hit me. So I hold him, I comfort him, I press light kisses against his shoulder blades, I rock our bodies slowly back and forth. And God, how good would this have been after everything that happened. Brian didn't know what to do. Didn't know how he was supposed to touch me and never touched me the same afterwards. But to be held by someone you love, by someone who loves you, it's a magical thing.
His breathing calms against my hands, his sobbing quiets down, the jerks of his body come to rest and then I feel his hands take hold of mine.
"I'm so... so fucking sorry I wasn't there, Liv. So...so sorry." His voice is broke. He is broken. He carries my shadow as I do now. And as much as I didn't want him to, he needed to. Because he's my person, and I am his and we're supposed to share one another's pain.
"I know, El. I know."
And I do.