AN: I know, I know & I'm sorry! I get nervous after the episode airs that no one will want to read an alternate version. But several people have encouraged me to continue. So, thank you & I hope y'all enjoy!

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Her beautiful floral dress, belted with a simple red ribbon had been an Oscar de le Renta. She spent more than she would care to admit on the first purchase she'd made from Neiman Marcus in over a decade. The last had been a dress she bought to go undercover in a swingers club with Elliot. On both occasions, she'd spent an absurd amount of time trying to convince herself she wasn't buying said dress specifically to impress Elliot.

Yes, the latest dress was a bit impractical, but when was the last time she'd allowed herself such an over the top purchase? Maybe her Mustang? The one someone purposely gave front end damage in order to frame her for murder. She sold it shortly after the case was dismissed. Her new dress is no longer hers either- it's now evidence. It's been put into a large ziplock bag and labeled accordingly.

It seems that all of the beautiful things she allows herself to indulge in become tainted.

Maybe she should stop trying?

It's Elliot's light touch that brings her from her reverie.

"Hangin in there?" He asks. The nurse has finished taking pictures and is preparing to move on to the more tedious parts of the exam.

"Yeah, just, Elliot," she shakes her head, "never mind."

"No, what, Liv? Whatever it is, just tell me. It's ok." He needs her to understand that he wants to help her- that he would do anything to help her.

"Can you just try not to look? Just maybe look at my face? Tell me something about Eli or the wedding or your squad? Just help me pretend this isn't happening?" Her voice is small.

Anything, he'll do absolutely anything to make this easier for her. He pulls his chair so his back is to the nurse who is busily preparing one stirrup to place Olivia's uninjured leg in for the vaginal exam. He holds her hand gently.

"Ok, ok. Let me think. I tell you Eli met a girl?" He asks with a crooked grin.

"No, you didn't. I'm glad he's making friends though. What do you think of her?" He can tell how hard she's trying to focus on the conversation instead of the nurse softly lifting her ankle into the stirrup.

"She's a sweet kid. Plays soccer for a city league. That's how they met. They've been inseparable. Average teenage first love kind of stuff. They sort of remind me of.."

The nurse interrupts before he can finish his thought, that the kids remind him of he and Kathy at that age.

"Captain, you're going to feel some pressure ok, it's just the speculum. This will feel like a Pap smear. I'm going to take some samples." Olivia nods her response and grips his hand tightly as a tear exits the corner of her eye. Elliot can't stand this. He can't stand not knowing what's happening in that complex, beautiful psyche of hers.

She clears her throat, "So, what's her name?"

He's lost for a second, "Huh?"

"Eli's girlfriend?" She answers him and if it were any other time she would've teased him for his forgetfulness.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Emma, her name is Emma. She's blond, tall for her age, like Eli." He doesn't really know where he's going with this small talk anymore. She lets a little gasp out and he wishes he could look and see how many more swabs the nurse intends to take. He runs his free hand through her hair. "You need a break, Liv?"

"Ah," she strains, "no, no. I'm fine." She lies and then refocuses, "Eli. Eli is so tall for 14. I couldn't believe he was the same sweet baby. It feels like yesterday sometimes."

"Yeah, all the kids grew up fast, but especially Eli. He was this short little squirt one day and the next he's grown a foot and his voice dropped an octave. It was such a fast change. He got super clumsy for a while, learning how to control those new long legs." He laughs and shares the memory of Eli's first few soccer games after his unprecedented growth spurt.

Olivia has a sad smile on her face. It's the look of someone who has missed out. She can't even picture Eli at Noah's age or slightly older. She's never even seen a photo.

Elliot can still read her like a book, "I'm so sorry we weren't here for you to know him like you did the others. He will love you, Liv. He knows what you did for him and Kathy. Kathleen told him. Told him you're his own personal guardian angel and to never forget it."

She squeezes his hand, conveying her forgiveness, "Always."

The nurse finishes her last swab. All that was left was combing her pubic hair. She completes the humiliating task, removes her foot from the stirrup. Gathering all the evidence, she exits the room.

A doctor enters as the nurse exits. He's a large man- tall and muscular. He's close to her age with graying in his temples. He looks like someone who's been around.

"Hello, Captain Benson, I'm Dr. Andrews. I'm an orthopedic surgeon and I've been consulted to repair your leg. You've got a pretty bad break. It's what we call a spiral break. It's looks like the bone was hit and then spun." The doctor explained. Elliot feels like he going to puke. He doesn't do well with broken bones and God, that description was gruesome.

"It'll require surgery." Olivia states, more than asks, but the doctor confirms.

"I'm waiting on an OR room. It may be a bit before I can get you back. We'll get you to a room and I've ordered some pain meds. Unfortunately, nothing to eat or drink. We'll keep you hydrated with the IV. My colleague will come by your room with the surgical and anesthesia consent forms. Do you have any questions for me?" The doctor offers.

"What will the recovery time be like for this and will I have any lasting effects?" She sounds nervous.

"You'll be in a cast for around six weeks, but in therapy after for 4-6 months. You may have some pretty bad arthritis in it as time goes on." He answers honestly. He shakes hands before leaving.

Olivia sighs loudly and Elliot almost chuckles at how in character it is for her to be annoyed by this news. Six weeks off of her feet does not feel doable to this powerhouse of a woman.

"I'm sorry, Liv, I know that's not what you wanted to hear." He says once the door is closed.

"No, but I'd be pretty naive to expect less. My wrist wasn't near as badly broken and it still aches when the weather changes." She says, absentmindedly rubbing the wrist in question.

Another injury she mentions on the sly, like he knows what happened.

"How'd you do that?" He asks. "I mean, your wrist." He clarifies.

"I guess pulling against the handcuffs." She answers like it's a no brainer. Like, duh, Elliot, what else would it be from?

He stares at her for a moment, his brain rapidly thumbing through the chapters in his life labeled "Olivia".

Broken wrist?

Broken wrist?

Nope, nothing. He can not imagine forgetting her breaking a bone. Especially breaking a bone while trying to get out of handcuffs. His stomach churns.

"So, Liv, I think I'm missing something. You mentioned having a rape kit done before and now a broken wrist. God, Liv, I'm so sorry if I should remember something, but I don't. What happened?"

It's her turn to look confused. "Elliot, I thought….I thought you knew. Everyone knew. It was on CNN for Christ's sake."

He can feel his ears turning red, can hear his own heart beating.

"Knew what? Liv, I swear to God, if knew something had happened to you, I would've been here." He doesn't know any details except she had a broken wrist and needed a rape kit. Judging from her squads reactions, whatever happened involved the beach and cigarette burns. Now he knows it was national news. This is bad. Oh, dear Lord, what had he missed?

"I figured you were just done with me when you didn't call. I kept waiting for Cragen to tell me you had reached out to him. It just never happened, so I figured you just didn't care anymore." She sounds so tiny and innocent and hurt and confused and maybe a little embarrassed.

"No, no, that couldn't be further from the truth. Please, Liv, tell me. What happened?" The panic and desperation is evident in his voice.

"Elliot…" she says his name like a warning. You can't go back, it says. You can't uncross this bridge once it's crossed.

"Please." His one word response. A response she can't ignore.

"It was eight years ago. I don't think about it anymore, not like I used to. If I tell you, you have to promise me that you won't be doing that either." She makes her statement as a disclaimer.

"I…Liv, I'll do whatever you want me to, just don't leave me in the dark. I know I deserve that from you, but please just don't." He's pleading with her and she has no energy to resist.

"Ok, ok…in 2013 Amanda ran into this guy, William Lewis, in the park, flashing teenage tourists. An older woman, a photographer, had gotten pictures of him in the act, even overheard him saying grotesque things to the girls." Her voice is quiet as she sets up the scenario that led to her horrifying experience. "Amanda brought him in only to find he had burned his fingerprints off in a 'kitchen accident'." She used air quotes for emphasis.

"Bastard knew exactly what he was doing." Elliot interjects.

"Yeah, he was a career criminal. Going state to state committing egregious acts on unsuspecting women. Getting off on technicality after technicality. He had a way of getting his defense attorney's to fall for him and then turning on them. It's exactly what he did with us." She stops, sucking in a deep breath, as a sharp pain shoots up from her ankle.

"You ok, Liv? Want me to call for pain meds?" He's to his feet in an instant.

"No, no. I don't like how they make me feel. It'll pass in just a second." She takes slow deep breaths as Elliot watches her worriedly. She starts again, "Where was I?"

"His attorneys always fell for him." He helped.

"Right, ok, so his attorney got him ROR on the girls. While he's out, he attacks the photographer, holds her for 18 hours. Brutalizes the poor woman so badly she died from a heart attack within the week." The regret is saturating every word.

"So, your prosecutor upped the ante to murder, right?" He would expect nothing less.

"Right, but there was a lab mix up and they let him go on yet another technicality. I was pretty down about it- this guy just kept getting away with stuff. Cragen told me to take a four day weekend. It was an order." She took another deep breath, he could tell she was preparing for what was coming.

"Take your time, Liv." He needs her to know that there is no rush, he's not leaving her anytime soon.

"I went by the grocery store on my way home. I got in and put my stuff on the counter when I heard a noise in the living room. I thought it was, uh, my boyfriend. He had a key. I called out to him, but as I rounded the corner, Lewis was there, he put a gun in my face. Elliot, I just, I just froze. I froze like I had never been taught a fucking thing on how to react to a threat." God, the self blame was so evident and misplaced. Elliot couldn't help but think that blame should belong to him and him alone, not to this beautiful woman in front of him.

"Liv, you know that's a natural, primal instinct. It had nothing to do with your training. You were expecting someone you cared about and had a gun pointed at you by a psychopath instead. That's not your fault." He makes his point quietly, looking deeply into her eyes as his thumb strokes the back of her knuckles.

"I know, I know. I've had a lot of therapy over the years that's taught me that, but it never feels true. Even now." She shakes her head before continuing, "He took me by the shoulders, pushed me toward my bedroom before my fight finally kicked in. I swear to God, Elliot, I fought him with everything I had. We turned over furniture, destroyed every decoration on my walls. The last thing I remember of the fight was being slammed into a mirror. While I was knocked out, I was tied to a chair with duct tape over my mouth. I woke up to the smell of the cigarette he was smoking. He had taken my badge, my keys, some coat hangers, had them all in the kitchen. He told me he was cooking something for me, but had an 'appetizer' first. Then he pulled down my shirt and bra and pushed his cigarette into my breast." She swallows back the tears.

Elliot is having a harder time swallowing his own emotions and hot tears roll down his cheeks. He can't speak, the words are stuck in his throat.

She continues, "He, umm, he pulled my shirt up after that, unclasped the front of my bra and burned me over and over with my things he brought from the kitchen. He, uh, he wrote his initials on my rib cage with a hanger. It hurt so bad, I rocked the chair back fighting. I went unconscious when my head hit the floor." The room is deathly silent for a moment. "El, are you ok?"

He takes a moment to think. Is he ok? No. He surmises, he's not ok in the slightest. He left his best friend, the woman he loves more than life itself alone to be tortured by a card-carrying sadist. He may never be ok again. He obviously can't tell her that, though, he can't be a burden for her, not anymore. So, he gathers the few ounces of strength he has left and infuses it into his voice. "Olivia, this is hard to hear. I can't explain to you how badly it hurts knowing you went through this, but you survived the actual experience, I can live through hearing about it."

"Ok, just tell me if you aren't, ok?" He is completely in awe of this beautiful creature and her endless compassion.

He nods and she continues, "I woke up on the floor, still tied to the chair. He forced vodka down my throat. I spit in his face, told him to shoot me. I just kept coming up with plan after plan and he saw trough them all. I was trying to buy time because I was sure that my boyfriend would be by soon. But then he made me listen to a voicemail- it was Brian, he said he was stuck on an overnight and couldn't make it. I knew then that I was in it alone."

She was in it alone.

Alone.

Fucking alone. Alone because of him. And because of another half dozen people who'd let her down. Why the fuck had this Brian character not called more than once? Why wasn't he worried when she didn't answer??

He wants to go into the waiting room and ask them all where they had been while Olivia was going through Hell, but God, what a hypocrite that would make him. The people in the next room clearly love Olivia. They clearly regret what happened. And they are clearly no more responsible for this than he is himself responsible.

So, he takes a deep breath to calm himself and strokes her fingers with his thumb as she continues on this harrowing tale. She tells him of being pistol whipped, stuffed into a trunk wrapped in her bloody bed sheets; of Mrs. Mayer being raped while she was forced to watch, helplessly; the hardware store; the young officer being murdered; and then she got to the beach house.

The beach.

Where she'd been so certain she was earlier tonight. What happened in the woods had been bad enough to send her mind back into the depths of whatever Hell happened at the beach.

He steels himself and she does the same.

She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly before she begins, "I have never told a living soul everything that happened at the beach house, El. Not one."

He nods his head, conveying he understands if she doesn't feel comfortable sharing this part of her story.

"That's ok, Liv. You don't have to tell me any-" he starts, but she interrupts.

"No, El, you don't get it. I never told anyone because I think in my soul I knew that you were the only person I ever wanted to bear witness for me. You're the only person I ever wanted to tell." He can hear the tears in her words.

"Then I want to do that for you, Liv. Tell me everything. I'm listening."