During the Commercial - Taken Sometimes Even a Strong Woman Needs a Strong Shoulder

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of Dick Wolf and company. I have just borrowed them for my own, and hopefully your, amusement.

Summary/Author's Note: "Taken" had a high and unfulfilled angst quotient surrounding the death of Olivia's mother. This is my attempt at filling it. Read, enjoy, and review. Thanks!

The drive back to her apartment was quiet, both partners lost in their own thoughts. Once inside Olivia locked the door behind them as Elliot hung his suit in her hall closet.

"Help yourself to a beer or anything, El. I'm just going to get comfortable."

First going into the bedroom area to grab a change of clothes she then went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Elliot took a beer from the fridge and went into the living room, taking a seat on the couch. He left the radio and the TV off for now, wanting Olivia to be able to set the tone. After a while he heard the bathroom door open. Turning around to look at her, he noticed that her eyes were sad but dry and at least she looked more comfortable in a pair of drawstring pants and an old T-shirt.

"Bathroom's all yours."

"Thanks," he said, rising and picking up his duffel before going in to change. Olivia poured herself a glass of wine before curling up in a corner of the couch. Reaching for the remote, she turned the television on low and then scanned the channels before finding an old Hepburn-Tracy movie. She smiled at that, her mother had been a big fan. It would be a good way just to wind down for a while. When Elliot came out of the bathroom, now more comfortable himself in sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, he stuck to his word about not pressing her and simply sat down at the other end of the couch.

"Good choice," he said, propping his stocking feet up on her coffee table.

"Yeah, Mom loved all these old movies. Pat and Mike was one of her favorites."

They both settled in to watch the movie, comfortable with each other and receiving comfort from the other's presence. Occasionally there were comments regarding the movie but mostly they just let their minds wander and relax. Elliot would sneak glances at the woman beside him from time to time, just to check on her. And while she seemed alternately engrossed in the movie or lost in thought, in actuality she was often conscious of his concern and was touched rather than irritated by it and his lack of pressure. She knew he was hoping she would talk to him but was letting her take her time and decide for herself.

Finally the movie ended. As the credits rolled Elliot looked at Olivia again, this time surprised to find her already looking at him, her eyes wet. Picking up the remote he turned off the TV before reaching over and resting a hand on her foot, the part of her closest to him.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Yesterday, at your house, Kathy told me about her father and the regrets she has had since he died. And I asked her how she gets past it, all the things left unsaid or undone."

"What did she say?"

"She didn't get a chance, your girls came in. But…Mom was an alcoholic. I made my peace with that and the idea that it might kill her someday, I did. I just thought we would have more time, you know? Time to mend some fences, time to talk."

"What did you want to say to her?"

Olivia didn't know how to answer, or even if she wanted to yet. She had spent a lifetime holding some of this in, never trusting anyone enough to open up to them about her mother. And while she trusted Elliot with her life, she still felt uncomfortable about opening up to him like this. She didn't want him to see her as weak or pity her for her upbringing. But it was all churning in her so much at the moment she felt like she was going to break with the pressure of it all. And she wouldn't let herself break, but maybe bending a little would be enough.

"Liv?"

Her voice was soft as she finally answered him. "I don't know. She's never…she never liked me working for SVU. We fought about it so often and I could never get her to understand. She never got it that I…"

"That by being a cop and doing what you do you fix for others what couldn't be fixed for her?"

She looked up to meet her partner's eyes. She knew she had never really told him that in so many words but he understood in a way no one else could. The way her mother never had.

"She said it was wrong, that is wasn't good for me. She…" Her voice trailed off, curling her legs up under herself she dropped her head to stare at her hands twisted together in her lap.

Her pose struck a chord with Elliot, reminding him of how his children sometimes looked after getting in trouble. And he knew it went much deeper than just not liking the job. "She rejected you now as she had rejected you as a child."

"No," the denial was automatic and defensive. "My mother didn't reject me. She could have had an abortion or given me away. But she didn't. This was a bad idea. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Tell me what your childhood was like, Olivia," he asked quietly, his voice gentle. It was such a shrink-type question, which really wasn't his intent. But she had opened the door and he wanted her to get some of this pain out before she slammed it shut again. She was just as much a victim of her mother's rape as Serena herself had been. And as a victim she needed to get these feelings out where she could deal with them. They both knew that in the objective sense. It was just easier to tell that to others rather than taking the advice yourself.

"Leave it alone, El."

"Liv, talk to me."

Angrily she pushed off the couch and stalked across the room. "What do you want hear, Elliot? That my mother gave birth to me and then spent the rest of her sorry life regretting that decision? That every time she looked at me she saw her rapist? That nothing I did, no chores, no good grades, no awards, were good enough to keep her from turning to a bottle?

"Or did you want to hear about the times I had to put her to bed after she stumbled in after last call? Or the fact that I was too ashamed to ask anyone over after school because I didn't know what state she would be in when we got here? You met her coworkers tonight. Maybe you want to know about the sober times, when she threw herself into her job rather than be with me? The long hours, the business trips, bringing work home, anything to keep herself busy, with anything but me that is?

"Or that while I loved her, I did, sometimes I hated her too? Is that what you wanted Elliot? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Her voice had risen as she threw each question at him, her eyes shooting fire before growing wet, a few tears finally spilling over to be dashed away by impatient hands. Now she stood before him fuming, her eyes wet and hot and her fists clenched.

Elliot felt terrible. He had pushed himself on her tonight with the understanding that it they would do whatever she wanted, no pressure. Instead he had both reduced her to tears and made her angry. Nice job Stabler! He honestly had just hoped that he could offer some comfort and that she might open up a little. He had known she and her mom had had issues but never did he imagine the full extent of pain she must have carried her entire life. And though right now she was pissed at him, soon she would also realize exactly what she had said and how much she had revealed and she would be mortified. The doors would come crashing back down. He had to make this better now.

Rising from the couch he stopped as she took a step back and turned away from him.

"Don't, Elliot," she mumbled.

"Liv, I'm sorry." She didn't turn around. Placing his hands on her shoulders he was relieved when she didn't shrug him away. She simply stood there, the tension radiating from her. So he tried again, turning her around to face him and taking her hands in his. "Olivia, I really am sorry. Please come sit down." She stood there stiffly for a moment before finally giving a small nod and letting him guide her over to the couch again. She sunk low into the cushions, sliding down until she could rest her head on the back of the sofa, her hands limp at her sides and her eyes closed. Elliot sat next to her, turned so he could face her and close enough to touch. Reaching one hand out he gently covered one of her hands with his.

"Liv, I didn't mean…"

"It was just never enough you know? I was just never enough." she spoke in barely a whisper. The tears had been fought back but the pain hadn't.

"Olivia, you don't have to…" He didn't want to push her anymore. He was surprised when she turned her hand over to grasp his though she kept her eyes closed.

"I think one of my earliest memories was trying to make her breakfast one Saturday morning. I don't even remember how old I was. I do remember I poured her a bowl of cereal and milk, spilling both all over the kitchen, and carried them in to give her breakfast in bed. But she was hung-over from the night before. I didn't understand that then, though I learned the signs soon enough. That morning all I knew was I tried to surprise her but she got mad instead. She was furious that I woke her up and even more so once she saw the kitchen. I never did it again."

Where Elliot's heart had already been aching for her, it now broke completely. As a father of four, he and Kathy had been wakened quite a few times by the sight of one or more of their beaming children standing beside the bed with some kind of breakfast concoction. The culinary results usually ranged from not bad to totally inedible, at least in the early years, and the kitchen was often destroyed by the attempts but the love he had seen in their eyes and their pride in their gift was priceless. Neither parent would have ever dreamed of doing anything but eating the food, forcing it down if necessary, and praising the child. Often they had all ended up snuggled in the bed together, watching cartoons and laughing. Olivia hadn't had that. Tears gathered in his own eyes at her loss, and the grief he originally felt for a partner and dear friend deepened as the father in him sought to comfort the crying child in her. One hand remained in hers but the other now moved to begin softly stroking her hair.

"It wasn't all bad. There were times that were good, like the movies. I guess that's why I love all the old black and whites. It was something we could do together once in a while. And she could be charming when she was drinking, sometimes. She loved her job too, and was good at it. She spent a lot of time there, another way to get out of the house I guess."

"Liv, did she ever hit you?" He hated to ask the question, afraid of what the answer might be.

"No," she turned sideways on the couch so she could look at him. "No, El, it was never like that. It was more indifference than anything."

Which he knew could wound just as much, the scars were simply more hidden.

"She just wasn't there. She buried herself in her work or the booze and she wasn't there. I watched Kathy with your girls the other night and realized again that my mother and I never had what they have, that easy connection and simple joy of just being together. Even the times that we were happy, all the other stuff was there below the surface, waiting to come out again.

"It got easier as I got older, or at least after I moved into the dorms. Not having to see each other every day made the pressure less. I guess not having to look at and take care of her rapist's final punishment was what she was searching for the entire time."

"Olivia, don't…you're not…"

"I know that, Elliot, or at least part of me does now. But that's how if felt at the time. And things did get better between us. She was OK about me becoming a cop. Not thrilled but OK. She hated it when I joined SVU though. She just never could understand why. We fought about it a lot."

For a while they simply sat there. Olivia closed her eyes again, allowing Elliot's rhythmic movement through her hair to soothe her.

"Tell me a good memory."

Her eyes remained closed as she thought about it for a minute but finally a small smile played across her mouth. Keeping them closed she let the memory play.

"I was in high school and one weekend there was this huge snowstorm. It shut the city down. Usually Mom would get antsy; she needed to be doing something, going someplace. But this time – I don't know, maybe it was the magic of the snow. For as far as we could see from the apartment windows there was just all this snow. Nothing was moving except the snow that kept falling. We ended up spending the entire day inside. We stayed in our pajamas and curled up on the couch with blankets and popcorn and chocolate. And we watched movies all day long. I think we even painted each other's toenails. It was the best day."

She didn't even realize she had started crying until Elliot moved his hand from her hair to her cheek to wipe a tear away. Opening her eyes at the touch she raised her wet eyes to his. He smiled sadly at her and the tears in his eyes touched her.

"She loved me, Elliot. She hated me too, what I reminded her of. But she loved me." It was a statement but also a lifetime question.

"I know she did. She might not have done a very good job of showing you but she loved you." He gathered her into his arms, drawing her closer to him so her head came to rest on his shoulder, her hands on his chest. He could feel her trembling as well as the tears soaking through his shirt. "You are such a remarkable woman, Olivia. You've taken the pain in your life and turned it into something good for both yourself and the people around you. I'm proud to be your partner and honored to be your friend."

Olivia was so touched by his words she didn't even try to stop the new wave of tears. She had never heard Elliot talk about anyone like that before and the fact that he was doing it now, for her, was a balm to her wounded heart. Curling even closer to him she held onto his shirt and simply listened to the sound of his heart beating.

Eventually Elliot felt her begin to relax in his arms. The tears gradually stopped and her breathing became more even. Moving away just enough to be able to look at her face he saw that her eyes were closed and she was finally asleep. But even in sleep she still needed comforting. As her subconscious noted the change in position she mumbled something and grasped his shirt tighter. Closing the space between them again he rested his cheek on top of her hair and propped his feet on the coffee table. One hand cupped the back of her head as it rested on his chest while the other stroked gently up and down her arm. Olivia sighed in her sleep and settled against him again. She was safe.