WARNING: References to WL, past trauma, nightmares, and PTSD. This story picks up after Olivia has told Elliot about what happened to her in the 10 years he was gone. This story is narrated through Elliot's thoughts, memory, and flashbacks of their conversation. All flashbacks will be in italics.

This story all began with the one thought: "You're not broken, Liv." I feel like Olivia needs a little reassurance from the person she loves and is willing to show her brokenness too. She needs someone she loves unconditionally to see her and remind her what she deserves. Please let me know what you think.

"You're not broken, Liv."

Olivia turned around quickly, the pain from sharing her trauma with Elliot etched into her face, "What?"

Elliot stepped closer to her, pulling her into his arms, "you are not broken Olivia Benson." He punctuated every word of his sentence with a kiss to her forehead with the last two landing on her lips.

She pulled back slightly, tears streaming down her face, "how do you know?"

"Because I see you. I believe in you." He held her tight against his body, "I love you." He felt her body go lax against him and then he felt the tears begin to soak into his shirt as she cried, "you are a survivor Liv. You faced hell itself and you survived. You are not broken."

"I feel broken." She pulled back to wipe the tears from her face, "my body—the scars. He—"

"You are beautiful." He kissed her again, "scars or no scars. You are strikingly, breathtakingly, stunningly beautiful."

"You haven't seen them all."

Elliot looked at her softly, "I don't need to see them all to know whether you're beautiful or not." He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, "I've always thought you were beautiful, Liv."

Her voice caught in her throat, "Elliot, they're—"

He stopped her with a kiss, "it doesn't matter to me Liv."

"They matter to me," she whispered as she pulled back from him.

He took a deep breath choosing his words carefully, "I know, and when you're ready to show me, I'll remind you again and again that you're still beautiful," he paused, "will always be beautiful. I'll remind you every day for the rest of my life."

"Promise?"

"Always," he kissed her again, "you are beautiful Olivia, and I love you."

"I love you too," she smiled through her tears and then took a deep breath, "I'm not ready to show you the rest of them tonight, but I will be soon. Telling my story has taken a lot, and I know I'll have nightmares tonight."

He rubbed her back, "let me stay in here with you tonight."

She looked at him, and bit her lip, "it will be a rough night."

"You don't have to do it alone Liv," he looked at her, loving her through the pain, "I'll be here. Let me be here for you. You're always there for me; it's my turn to fight with you."

"With me," she repeated his words in a whisper, before the tears fell again.

He looked at her wondering if he had said something wrong, "Liv, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"No," she shook her head, "you, you didn't. It's just this past year people keep assuming I need," she paused wringing her hands, "that I want someone to fight for me. What I really want is someone to fight alongside me. To fight with me. I can handle myself."

"I know." He kissed her temple, "you are the strongest person I know."

She glanced at him, "I don't know if that's true."

"It is," he grinned, "we don't call you Badass Benson for nothing."

She grinned, "and Wonder Woman."

"And Wonder Woman," he looked her up and down, grinning mischievously, "my Wonder Woman." He pulled her toward him, and they fell back on the bed together.

"Elliot!" She laughed and swatted him off as he started peppering her with kisses enjoying the new development in their relationship.

He stopped kissing her and laughed as they both rolled over on their sides facing each other. He studied her face once more, taking his hand and pushing back a strand of hair that had fallen in her face, "I love you, Olivia. I will always love you, all of you."

"I love you too." He took his hand and ran it up and down her arm, "Elliot?"

"Hmm?"

She let out a small breath, the mood shifting again before she spoke, "I'm scared." Elliot waited knowing she would tell him when she was ready, "I know we need to sleep, but I'm too scared to sleep. I know the darkness will settle in when I close my eyes, and I can fight it. I always do. Always have." Her hands were shaking and Elliot grabbed them to offer support and hold her steady, "but I'm so tired of fighting alone."

"I'm here Liv," he brushed the tears that fell away from her face with his thumbs, "you're not alone anymore."

She smiled at him, and then paused. He could tell she was thinking over her next question carefully before she spoke. She relaxed and then whispered, "hold me?"

"Always," he whispered back. He watched as a look of relief and safety settled on her face before she turned around and situated her back up against his chest.

She pulled his arm around her waist and clasped her fingers in with his. He whispered in her ear, "You are not fighting alone, and you never will again as long as I'm here. Let me stand guard tonight, and you sleep."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, "I would like that."

Elliot smiled, "light on or off?" He pointed to the lamp on her bedside table.

"On, with the picture of Noah close by."

Elliot adjusted the picture frame, "done."

"Thank you." She yawned, "night, El."

He kissed the top of her head, "Goodnight, Liv." Olivia gripped his hand a little tighter and curled into him even more than she already was in response. A few minutes later, he heard her breathing even out and he knew she was asleep, for now.

Elliot yawned, but shook himself silently awake. He understood the trust she was putting in him by telling him her story and allowing him to stay with her tonight. He was tired, but he had promised her he would stand guard and he had all intentions of keeping his word. He looked down at her as she slept. She had turned around in her asleep and now had her head resting on his chest and her arm slung around his body. She looked peaceful and safe, but he knew, from what she had told him, that she wouldn't stay like that for long as the darkness crept in. He watched her sleep for a few seconds before his mind wondered to the phone call and conversation that led them to where they are now.

She had called him earlier in the day, and told him to meet her at the precinct later that afternoon. Noah was staying with Amanda, Carisi, and the girls, and she and him needed to talk without interruption. He didn't know what was going on when she had called, but he had quickly agreed knowing they still had a lot of things to talk about. He had quickly finished up his own work before leaving and stopping at a coffee shop on the way to the 1-6th. The precinct was pretty much deserted when he walked in except for the singular light shining from her office. He had made his way over, taking a moment before knocking on the door as he watched her in her element. She had her glasses perched on her face and was just packing up for the night as he knocked on the door.

"Hey Liv," he greeted as he walked into her office. He held out the coffee he had picked up for her, "for you."

"Thanks," she took the cup and then took a deep breath, "We need to talk, Elliot."

"Okay," he stepped closer to the chairs in front of her desk ready to sit down for the long conversation he knew awaited them both.

"Not here," she grabbed his hand, and pulled him behind her.

"Liv?"

"Trust me," she stopped at the stairs leading to the roof, "up there." She pointed to the door before taking a deep breath and starting the climb to the top. He watched her for a second before quickly following her. He could sense a heaviness in the air, and he understood the importance of the conversation to follow. Something within him told him he was about to find out what she meant when she had said he hadn't asked one question about what had happened to her.

Once they both made it safely up the stairs, he waited, knowing she would speak when she was ready, but she had turned away from him staring across the Manhattan skyline. He walked up behind her, and laid his hand on her shoulder, "Liv, I want to know about your life. I want to know it all. What happened to you while I was gone?"

Her shoulders began to shake, and she turned to look at him as tears started flowing down her face, "No one asked me to blink my lights."

And then she had told him her story. A story she had buried and hidden away in the depths of the very soul the trauma had been meant to break. She had shared details with him that she hadn't shared since her days in the courtroom confronting the face of evil itself. As she told him her story, she had shown him the visible scars; the ones easily seen with rolling up sleeves, pushing down necklines, and removing an ever-present blazer. He had wondered when her wardrobe had changed to include so many layers, and now, he understood. She was hiding the scars, the marks of her brush with evil. She had pulled back the top button of her blouse to show him the scar barely visible near the top of her chest, and she showed him her arms, sleeves pushed back as far as they would go to reveal the ones she could now hide when needed. Scars that once stood out, but now were faded with time and healing. She had choked on her words when she told him those weren't the worst ones, but she couldn't show him here on the roof. She would need privacy for those. He had swallowed the choked sob waiting to spill from his lips, his mouth open to say something, but she had silenced him. She told him there was more, and she needed to get it all out before she couldn't. Then she told him of the second time, and his heart broke again knowing now what she had faced and what she had survived. She shared with him everything, leaving no detail spared, telling him she wanted the story to come from her and no one else or a file he could find if he took the time to look. She needed him to know what had happened to her.

She looked up at him, and in the most broken voice he had ever heard, asked him, "did you know?"

He bit his lip and looked at her, eyes filling up with tears. He shook his head as he barely choked out, "no, Liv."

As his words left his lips and traveled through the small space between them, she let out one final breath, a breath that he was sure she had been holding for the past few months, maybe even years. She opened her mouth again to speak, and had stepped closer to him, but her body collapsed. He quickly caught her before she could fall. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, as they slid down together. Her head was buried in his chest, and he closed his eyes willing himself to stay strong and present for her. He held her tight in his arms as she cried; he could feel her tears as they soaked through his shirt. Her body shook as the weight of her story fell from her shoulders, and the broken pieces of her heart fell back into their rightful place.

They kneeled there on the rooftop for what felt like hours before Olivia's sobs grew quiet, and her body relaxed into his arms.

He stroked his hand through her hair, "I'm so sorry, Olivia."

She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy, "It's not your fault, El."

"I should have—," he choked out as more tears threatened to fall.

She took his hand into hers, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles, "we can't change the past; we can only move forward to the future."

He brushed a few of the tears from her cheeks, "together?"

"For better or worse," she wiped some of the tears from his face, "as partners."

He looked at her, wondering what exactly she meant before a small grin broke out on her face, "for life."

It was then she had told him about her session with Dr. Lindstrom, and how he had asked her what she deserved. He had listened to her as she told him she decided she deserved a chance at love and happiness. She had told him she wanted more than a friendship, and she wanted to see what they could have together. She decided she wanted to give them a chance, but she had known from the beginning there were things they would need to discuss first, things he would need to know and things she wanted to ask before they could move forward. She told him she was tired of consistently zig zagging around the truth with each other and never talking about anything. She wanted to talk without interruptions, drugs, phones, and cases in their way always breaking anything before a conversation could truly begin. She told him she was tired of running, and he agreed with her, tired of running to undercover gigs to avoid the truth. So, as the sun set over New York City they spent hours together on the rooftop talking about their years apart, the good, the bad, and the ugly. More tears were shed as she shared her brokenness and darkest moments, but as the skyline turned pinker and more orange, the stories of true joy, love, and peace where shared, smiles in abundance as their friendship was rebuilt, becoming a cornerstone for their future, together. There on the rooftop of the 1-6ththey had agreed to move their story forward to a partnership born out of truth, worth, devotion, love, and what Olivia deserves.

As they had stood up together to retreat from the rooftop, Olivia had grabbed Elliot's hand and turned him around to face her.

"El."

Her eyes sparkled as they reflected the sun. She took hold of his jacket and pulled him in closer, closer than they had ever been before. He watched with wide eyes and breath held in anticipation as she leans in and kisses him. The magnitude of their universes finally colliding almost weakens his knees as she deepens the kiss. He wraps his arms around her, runs his fingers through her hair as the feel of her lips on his releases 23, almost 24 years of built-up longing and need between them both, and he deepens the kiss, knowing for as long as they live, he will protect her and love her, be present for her, and be the faithful and devoted man she deserves.

She pulls back out of breath, "I love you." She pauses grinning, "I'm in love with you. I deserve you. I want you."

He pulled her in for another kiss, "I love you, Olivia Benson. And you deserve the world, you deserve happiness, and you deserve to be cared for, protected, and loved for the rest of your life. I want to do that for you and with you."

As they left the rooftop, hand in hand until they had to separate to move down the stairs, Elliot could sense a new cloud of darkness beginning to creep in again. He had watched her gather her things, and settle in to his SUV. She had grabbed hold of his hand, and as soon as they drove away, turned to stare out the window. Once they were finally in her apartment and settled down after eating and relaxing on the couch, he had asked her what was wrong. She had turned to him, wringing her hands as she told him about her nightmares and how her PTSD would be triggered tonight from telling her story. She told him why she had chosen the rooftop because she didn't want Lew—him— to have the chance to bring any darkness into his or her apartment or even her office. She had wanted to tell her story in a place that the darkness couldn't touch and she could have the space and privacy she needed to tell him. He had taken her hand into his and told her he understood. He got it, maybe more than she realized. They had stared at each other for a moment, having one of their silent conversations as she realized why he had stayed away from his apartment for so long; he hadn't wanted his own demons to darken the apartment, his safe space with his mother and son. Soon at the weight of the day had begun to settle, and the tiredness crept in she had offered for him to stay the night, letting him know she didn't want to be alone. He had agreed to stay with her, but had mentioned how he would want something comfier that his three-piece suit. She had smiled sheepishly at him and told him to follow her to her bedroom. He had settled in on the edge of her bed as she went rummaging in the back of her closet. Soon, she had emerged mysteriously pulling out a pair of NYPD sweats and an old marine's t-shirt he had recognized as his.

"Don't ask. You left them in your locker. I've held on to them." She grinned before turning to the bathroom and tossing a new toothbrush at him, "I have a few other things from your locker and desk." She grabbed her leggings and a tank before turning back to the bathroom.

He caught the toothbrush and then stopped, calling out, "hey, you don't happen to have—?" Before he could finish the question, she stepped out of the bathroom again, gray hoodie zipped up over her tank, leggings clinging tightly to her curves.

The moment had led them to where they were now with her asleep, head resting on his chest as he held her. He let his thoughts continue to wonder and reflect on his own thoughts and feelings from the afternoon. He was so mad at himself for not being there when she needed him most. She had told him how she had told L—Elliot refused to say his name— about her former partner and what he would have done. And he knew she was right, had he known, had he been able to get his hands on the perp, he would have killed him.

Olivia had shared with him that it took her awhile to come to terms with the fact he hadn't shown up for her or hadn't at least called to check in on her. The sadness that accompanied her words unnerved him, and he racked his brain trying to remember where he had been during that time. It had dawned on him that was the year the whole Stabler family had spent traveling through Europe before he, Eli, and Kathy had settled in Rome. He didn't know if any of the rest of his kids had found out when they had returned to New York, but he intended to find out, but honestly, he was almost afraid of the answer. How could the kids have known and not told him? It didn't make sense to him how they wouldn't have known. How did he never find out? All of the questions swirling around in his head made him think back to the conversation he had had with his Mama when she asked him about Olivia's funeral. Did his Mama know? Maybe she knew, but had had an episode and didn't remember that she actually knew.

He promised Olivia he would have been on the first flight back to New York had he known. He had promised her long ago partners for better or worse, and yet he hadn't been there for her worst. He hated himself for it. Olivia had wrapped her arms tightly around him, "if you had been here, you would have killed him." It wasn't a question but a fact. She had turned to him, "you would have at least made me blink my lights." His heart broke in a thousand pieces hearing the words fall from her lips, and then she smiled at him, taking his hand into hers, pulling him in for a tender kiss, "but you're here now."

Elliot's thoughts were broken as Olivia stirred next to him. He looked down at her face and his heart shattered all over again at the pain he saw there. Her eyes were moving rapidly, and she was starting to yell out, "Elliot! El!"

He took her hand and gently squeezed, "Liv! Olivia, it's me. I'm here. It's just a nightmare."

"Elliot, he's here."

The blood in his veins ran cold, "No Liv. Wake up."

"EL!" Olivia shot straight up in bed the terror evident in the way her eyes were wide open but unseeing as she stared straight through him. Her eyes darted back and forth, her breath quickening as the nightmare she was experiencing trapped her. She quickly closed her eyes again.

"I'm here. Olivia, I'm right here." He gently shook her shoulders, biting his lip as she tried to pull away from him.

"NO!"

"Olivia, he can't hurt you anymore. I'm right here, fighting with you." He watched as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, "grab onto me. Reach out."

She stuck her hand out to reach for him, "Elliot?"

He moved quickly to grasp hold of her hand, "I've got you." His thumb rubbed the back of her hand, trying to ground her. "Olivia, open your eyes. Listen to my voice. You are beautiful, you are strong, you are a survivor, and I love you."

She slowly began to open her eyes, "you're here."

"I am," he smiled at her, "like I promised."

"I need—" Her breathing picked up again, and he knew the panic wasn't over. Her voice came out in a broken whisper, "hold me?"

He opened his arms and she moved to rest against his chest, "always." He rubbed her back, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She barely managed to breathe out a whispered no before the panic took over, and he sensed her going under, succumbing to the darkness. He quickly took hold of her hand and lay it flat against his heart, "feel that?" She nodded her head, "I'm right here. Breathe in and breathe out, I'm not going anywhere." He leaned over to the bedside table and picked up the photo of Noah and handed it to her. She took it from him and turned in his embrace so her back was now against his chest. He moved his legs so she could get more comfortable, and wrapped his arms around her. He watched her over her shoulder, and he could tell she was using his own breathing to regulate hers. The picture of Noah was helping to ground her as she ran her fingers along the frame. She used her fingers to trace a heart around her son's face, and would whisper "I love you Noah" as she completed the heart. Elliot finally picked up on what she was doing as he followed the pattern of their breathing. She was tracing around Noah's picture with every breath in and whispering "I love you, Noah" with every breath out.

As her breathing finally evened out, Elliot laid his head on her shoulder and spoke softly into her ear, "You are a survivor. You are strong. You are loved, so loved," he kissed her temple, and she leaned into his kiss, "you are not broken Olivia Margaret Benson."

She turned slightly in his arms, smiling at him, "I know that now."