Disclaimer: Law & Order does not belong to me, has never belonged to me, and will never belong to me, so help me God!

Rating: Mature – Adult themes

AN: This is a very dark chapter… however, considering you are all obviously fans of Special Victims Unit, I am sure that you'll be able to handle it. Despite this, I am going to warn you right now – there is an extended scene of violence that makes up much of this chapter, and I am sorry if it offends anyone. This is what my muse gave me, and I couldn't get it out of my head. And, in spite of my mind telling me that I should change it, and go along a happier route, my heart told me that this needed to be written. So I am hoping that you will all take this in stride… and keep in mind, not only is Elliot drunk, he is also still recovering from the loss of his wife and children. So please, don't flame me until you've really considered what is going through that poor man's mind. I'm sorry if this changes anyone's outlook on this story, or makes anyone stop reading it. Please know that I am not out to scare anyone off. I'm just trying to express myself. There will be a brighter future in store for them, so don't worry. Now, if you're up to it, please read on – and maybe leave me a little review to let me know if you like it or not. You won't offend me if you think it's terrible… just don't flame me to death. Tell me in a constructive way. And also keep in mind that this is the kind of stuff you see on the show every time you watch it. Read on…

Previously, on "Changes":

Olivia took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy, but she needed to be strong for Elliot. She had to support him, help him get through this at all costs. Even if it meant pushing away her love for him.

………

Elliot tried to glare at Olivia, but was unable to prevent himself from giving her an ear-to-ear grin when he saw the drop of syrup that clung to her chin. He reached over and wiped it off with his thumb, bringing it to his mouth and sucking the sweet concoction from the sticky digit. He froze when he realized what he'd done, and slowly, his gaze turned to his partner, who was sitting perfectly still on her stool, staring at him. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and she looked embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, 'Liv, I shouldn't have done that—"

Olivia was startled by the sound of his voice, and shook her head to clear it. She fought back the wave of arousal that had swept over her, struggling to push away the image of Elliot sucking the syrup off his thumb. She shivered, feeling her cheeks burning in response to the thoughts running through her mind. His touch had sent a shot of pleasure down her spine, leaving her wanting more.

"I—" She damned her voice as it cracked. "It's all right, El. You didn't do anything wrong." She shrugged nonchalantly. "Forget about it."

His eyes were cast downward as he turned back to his breakfast, finishing it silently.

And now, story continues…

CHANGES

Chapter Four: Drunk

Nine hours later found them both sitting at the bar of a pub near her apartment, knocking back shot after shot of whiskey in an effort to forget the feelings they had for one another. They'd spent the entire day together, having nothing else to do with their unexpected forced leave. They'd wandered around, window shopping for awhile, then had lunch in a cozy little café a few blocks away. The ridiculously domestic nature of their adventures hadn't escaped their notice.

They were in the middle of an argument about who was drunker when Olivia suddenly hiccupped, which made her giggle. His mouth dropped open, and then he began to laugh. A few moments later, he let out a loud belch, which sent her into another fit of giggles.

"Ellll, wa's goin' on wi' you an' Ka—Ka—Kaf—Kathy?" She asked once she'd calmed, her words slurred.

"Da papersh are in fer da d—d—divorsh. We jus' signed 'em da udder day. She hates my job. Says I work too mush. An' she think's 'm shleepin' wi' you."

Olivia looked stricken—as stricken as a drunk woman can look, anyway—and blinked owlishly several times before replying, "Well, tha's not true. A' coursh, God knowsh I wan' to."

He stared at her for a long moment, until his vision began to swim. "Really? Me, too!"

"Wow! Sho you wants ta shleep wi' me, an' I wanna shleep wi' you. Tha's wild!"

"Yeah!" he said enthusiastically. He promptly forgot what exactly it was that he was being enthusiastic about and peered myopically into the bottom of his empty shot glass.

"So how 'bout we get outta here an' go back to my place?" Olivia said. She was already starting to sober up. He was still drunk as a skunk, and would be for quite some time; he'd had six shots to her three.

"Shure. Le's go." Elliot slid off of his stool, nearly collapsing as his knees gave way beneath his weight, and with Olivia's help, staggered out of the bar. She hailed a cab, and they climbed in. She gave the cabbie her address, and they rode in silence for several minutes. Elliot leaned against her, nuzzling her neck gently. Her eyes, which had drifted shut, flew open, and she turned her head far enough to look down at him. He buried his face in her neck, and she gasped when she felt his lips against her skin. Her reaction time was slowed; before she could push him away, his mouth rose to plunder hers, and she was lost. She moaned softly, bringing her hands up to cradle his face. Their tongues dueled, each battling for dominance. The spell was broken when the cab jerked to a stop, and she realized abruptly where they were. She flushed red with embarrassment, tugging Elliot out of the cab and into her apartment building. She dragged him to the elevator, the doors sliding open an instant after she hit the "up" button. Elliot surged upward in her grip, pushing her against the wall of the elevator and thrusting his tongue into her mouth to explore its depths. She groped the control panel, searching for the right button – it was the one with the chip on the left side – and hit it, unable to tear herself away from the man who had so long ago claimed her heart, and now had her body melting like butter in his capable hands. The elevator door slid open, and they stumbled out, breaking their embrace. He grabbed at her as they made their way down the hallway, his touch becoming increasingly rough as they progressed. By the time they reached her door, he was bordering on violent. He never crossed that line, however; not then, and not during the time that was to come. He was forceful, and he was unrelenting, but he never struck her or aimed to cause her serious physical injury. She managed to free herself long enough to open her door, and he followed her into the apartment, his gaze never leaving her. The instant she had the door shut, Elliot slammed her into the wall, his mouth moving over hers with a fierce passion and a fiery strength that frightened her. She let him do with her as he pleased, however, knowing that he needed this. And, truth be told, she needed it, too. He ran his hands up her sides, fondling her roughly, and she winced. He didn't notice; his gaze was fastened elsewhere as he focused entirely on the task of undressing her. He made quick work of her shirt, her pants and bra following quickly, and he nipped at the sensitive skin between her breasts, leaving a trail of bright red marks. His mouth closed over one nipple, tugging at it until she gasped. He moved to its twin, copying his motions until she responded similarly. One hand had already set to work sliding her panties down over her hips, letting them fall to the floor as he slid his fingers through her damp curls. She jumped slightly as he hit her pearl of pleasure, raking his fingernail over it before grinding into it with his thumb. She whimpered softly, but made no motion to fight him. He needs this, he needs this, he needs this, she chanted in her mind, willing herself to relax even as he slipped three fingers inside her, causing her no small amount of pain as her body struggled to accommodate him without having been prepared. She cried out, and he took this to be an exclamation of pleasure, which only spurred him on. She bit her lip and reached for his jeans, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly before pushing his pants and boxers down. He growled low in his throat when she gripped him with both hands, and before she could ask him to wait a few moments longer, he rammed into her, drawing from her a pained cry that never reached his ears. He moved quickly in and out of her, and her head dropped back against the wall, her eyes closed as she held her lower lip between her teeth to keep her from showing him the pain she was in, pain he was causing. She felt him shudder as he suddenly jerked within her, his seed splashing against her cervix. His legs gave out, and they slid down the wall, her back protesting the friction. She said nothing, however, knowing that any pain she felt was nothing compared to that which tore through Elliot's heart even now. She felt Elliot sag against her, and knew he'd passed out. She closed her eyes briefly before pulling away from him, feeling him slide out of her, followed by a flood of his fluids dripping down her thighs as she stood, her arms beneath his and hooked around his chest as she dragged him backwards to her bedroom. Once there, she hefted him up onto the bed, rolling him beneath the covers and tucking him in carefully. She watched him sleep for a moment before she went to take a quick shower. She washed herself gently, the blood on the warm cloth she was using telling her that he'd torn her a little. She gritted her teeth as she slid the material over her tiny button, the raw nerves there protesting the touch of the rough fabric. She let the hot water run over her for a minute or so, just standing under the spray as she finally let herself cry.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

The next morning, she awoke to find Elliot gone. The bed was still warm where he'd been, so she knew he must still be in the apartment. Swallowing hard, she slid out from beneath the covers and walked out into the main room of the apartment, where she found Elliot trying to pull his jeans on. She'd dressed him partway last night, struggling with his heavy limbs as she pulled on his boxers and t-shirt. She, too, had pulled on a large t-shirt and her favorite pair of boxers.

Elliot was now staring at her, a horrified expression on his face. "Did we…?"

She sighed. He didn't remember last night. Steeling herself, she said, "No, El. We just had too much to drink, and since my place was closer, I brought you here and made you stay the night."

"But we were…" He trailed off, turning to look at the bedroom door.

"Ah, well, I started out on top of the covers, but I got cold. Hope you don't mind."

The relief that flooded his chiseled features made Olivia's chest tighten painfully.

"Uh, no, I don't mind." He cleared his throat. "Um, I gotta go. I…"

She waved away whatever it was that he'd been about to say, not meeting his gaze for fear of him seeing what this was doing to her. "Just go, El. I'll see you at work."

"Okay. Okay. Um, yeah. See you." He stumbled out the door, and Olivia closed it behind him, tears gathering in her eyes as her entire body trembled, sobs wracking her slim form as she covered her face with shaking hands.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

Elliot stumbled onto the elevator just down the hallway from Olivia's apartment, leaning against the wall for support as he tried to remember something—anything—from last night. No such luck. He couldn't help but feel as if he'd done something terribly wrong, made some huge mistake. He'd been so relieved when Olivia had told him they hadn't slept together. He couldn't bear to think that he'd been with her, and couldn't remember it because he was drunk. The worst part was the fear that perhaps Olivia had given in to him out of pity, and had had sex with him, just to get him off her back. He'd been a burden to her lately, he could tell. She was tired, and short with everyone but him. However, he knew that this scenario his all-too-active imagination had come up with was impossible. Pity sex from Olivia? Oh, please! They'd never be together that way; she felt nothing but friendship towards him, forcing him to keep his love for her to himself. He shook his head as the elevator grated to a shaky halt on the ground floor of the building. He stepped out into the lobby, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight shining in through the front windows. His headache, which had made itself known the instant he awoke, increased tenfold, making him wince. By the time he made it outside, his head was pounding so painfully that he was sure that the entire percussion section of a large band was now beating on the inside of his skull with drumsticks. Noticing the ringing that was steadily growing louder in his ears, he added a few of those annoying triangle instruments to his little imaginary band, just for good measure.

Elliot hailed a cab, falling into the backseat and managing to make his destination known to the driver, who took off with a jolt that made him groan.

This was going to be a long day.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

Once she'd pulled herself together, for the most part, Olivia dragged herself into the bedroom and pulled her shirt and boxers off. She stood in front of the full-length mirror, taking in the damage her body had sustained the previous evening. Her back was red, irritated by its little trip against the wall. There were finger-shaped bruises on her breasts and along her sides; the red marks he'd left between her breasts were now an ugly shade of brown, having turned into bruises overnight; there were livid purplish-red hickies all along her neck and shoulders; one earlobe bore a small bite mark; there were several finger-print-sized bruises on her jaw, along with a slight halo of bruising around her lips from the force of his kisses; and there were bluish-purple handprints on her hips, where he'd gripped her, and on her thighs, where he'd pried them apart. She ached deep inside, and the skin of her most intimate region was still very raw, with both her entrance and the tiny nub of flesh above it having been abused by a man who hadn't been able to control himself completely. She was glad he'd had some semblance of control; otherwise she would've been hurt far worse than she was now. She winced as she rotated her hips slightly, feeling a slight twinge as her inner muscles protested to the movement.

As she began to shake, she climbed back under the covers, curling up with the pillow that still held Elliot's scent. She lay there, awake and unmoving, for a long time. Finally, she drifted off to sleep, dried tear-tracks staining her cheeks.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

To be continued…

AN2: So, what do you all think? Did anyone make it all the way through? Please review, if you're up to it. I'd really like to know if this is any good. RL sucks right now, and this is my only real escape. My job just got ten times harder – I love what I do, mind you, but I was just assigned a half-dozen new duties that I'm not looking forward to. I'm also still living at home, with my folks, and so I have to live by their rules, and let's just say that they are… less than supportive… of my fanfic writing. They just don't get it. They have no idea what my writing means to me. I've only just managed to sneak on here and post this – I've got my own computer (thank GOD) – but we work on a network, and my mother has pulled my cord, which means no internet. I sneak on whenever I can, but my time is limited. And I don't see the situation letting up any time soon. Sorry, folks. Those of you who actually made it through this chapter and are looking forward to a new one, you'll be waiting for a bit. I haven't got anything down for my next chapter. My muse decided to take an unscheduled vacation to an undisclosed location – damn thing left a note that said, and I quote: "Hate you. Hate Kansas. Took Toto. Love, Dorothy." I'm not kidding. OK, I am. I got that off a T-shirt. Seriously, though. She left without telling me where she was going. Fear not, however – Vanilla Coke and chocolate chip cookie dough have been known to lure her back. I'll try to pick up some Vanilla Coke tomorrow. And maybe a pint of Ben & Jerry's… Yum! That might help to cheer me up!