Chapter 4 – 2003

It took a couple years for Elliot and Olivia to see somewhat eye-to-eye. The two had managed to not get in any major spats in that time but both remained stuck in their ways, spite playing a role in that. Elliot still thought Olivia was naïve and Olivia thought Elliot was hot tempered. Needless to say, they only worked together when they had to and not a moment more.

The first half of 2003 was the worst of both their careers, so far. Seems at this point every other case involved children, which always took its toll on the whole team. There was the 6-year-old with an STD, the baby food drug smuggling ordeal, the case that took a piece of ADA Cabot – the murder of a child with genetic disease, the child pornographer, the beauty pageant pedophile… god, it was almost too much.

Elliot was taking it all especially hard. Every time there was a child involved in the case, he couldn't keep it from affecting him. He would go home, night after night, and just stare at his children.

"What, daddy?" Kathleen would always ask.

"Nothing, baby, I just love you so much." He would always reply, earning him an eyeroll from his teenage daughter. She wasn't to the point of understanding being a parent but was past the point of being seen as a baby to him. He missed those days, when his two oldest girls were young enough to see him as the hero and not the bane of their existence. He missed when he would come home and curl up on his lap, he'd tuck them in and read them a bedtime story. Now, even his youngest, the twins, were growing out of that phase, the pair just passing the double digits.

After the last case, Elliot thanked god that he never allowed his children to go into beauty pageants or dance or cheerleading – anything with short skirts or makeup, really. Though, he still feared the worst in every game they played, eyeing the men in the crowd for anyone paying too much or too close attention to a singular child… he couldn't help it, his cop instincts always firing, keeping him painfully aware of every situation, unable to enjoy the moments in their full capacity.

However, since children have to grow, there comes a whole other set of fears for any father, him in particular. Maureen, his eldest, is heading off to college soon, and after a case of a 20-year old being brutally raped walking back to her dorm after class, Elliot has a half a mind to lock his daughter in her room and make her take online classes – she could get the damn degree, regardless.

He brings it up once to his wife as an option, but Kathy doesn't see the world in the way he does. She's never understood his hesitation when it comes to sending the kids to school, practice, summer camp, hell, the fucking grocery store around the corner. The world has more color to her, less darkness.

"She'll be fine, Elliot." Kathy would say when he voiced his concern about Maureen going to college. "She's living with us and commuting, what could really happen? You and I both made it into our forties just fine." Like that made anything better.

Every time this particular conversation came up, it would turn into a fight. Better, a screaming match. But it never lasted too long, one of the pair not able to be bothered with the bullshit.

"God, you just don't fucking get it, Kathy! The things I see every day, how am I supposed to believe there are any good people in this world? You're so blind to all of it, living out here in the borough all la-di-da, I'm just being real."

"No, Elliot, you're so fucking pessimistic it's astounding. You see the worst of the worst, but that's not all there is. You can't just chain those girls up; you can't keep them forever. They've gotta grow up, get out, see the world. You're strangling them with your rules and your limits. That's why they're so quick to go behind your back or come to me!"

They don't talk much anymore, both slightly convinced that fighting was the only thing old married couples do. Kathy, of course, was always frustrated with his lack of presence in her life and the children's, the job always taking precedence. She had tried to convince him long ago to give up the job, or at least transfer out of SVU because she could see the toll it was taking on him. Elliot, stubborn son of bitch, couldn't walk away from it all, being able to be involved in the unit that could actually put evil away. Sure, he didn't always go about it the right way, but at least he was doing something… something he couldn't do behind a desk.

They were both silent for a moment, Elliot trying to think of a calm response, but the shrill sound of his cell phone beat him to it. Kathy let out a large, irritated sigh before storming off.

"Stabler." He said angrily into the phone.


The call that night was to go arrest a suspect, the warrant finally coming back from the judge. The case had been pending for a bit now and they were waiting on the judge to deem rule they had enough evidence to arrest the son of a bitch…. A suspect by the name of Michael Gardner, accused of raping four women.

The sick fuck managed to intimidate almost all of the victims and witness out of testifying, going as far as representing himself, making them answer his questions on the stand. After a viciously long trial, the defendant didn't show up to… whatever part number of the trial they were on. When they arrived to check on the defendant, they found him deceased: stabbed to death by his lover, who was also his lawyer. She was apparently so distressed after confronting Michael about the allegations that she felt it best to take matters in her own hands. Elliot couldn't say he was too upset about the passing.

The twist and turns of the case were mind numbing. All four main detectives in the Special Victims Unit having had a hand in it. Olivia was tasked with keeping the victims calm during the process and also speaking with the rape counsellor one of the victims was working with. Elliot was unsure exactly what happened with the rape counsellor, but he did know it took a toll on Olivia too, the counsellor openly blaming her for ruining the case… all future cases… or something along those line.

The whole team needed to unwind a bit. Having finished his last paper for the file, Fin had been the one to throw his jacket over his shoulder and say, "I need a drink, what about y'all?" He looked around the squad room at the other detectives, most nodding their agreeance.

Elliot didn't want to go to the bar, but he didn't want to go home more. That's how he ends up at O'Malley's slugging back pitchers of Buds. The whole team is there: Munch, Fin, Benson, Cabot, Huang, Cragen even stopped in to give a 'keep your head up' speech to his team. Did it help? Probably not.

He didn't realize how much he had been drinking until he stood up to go pee. The instant dizziness hitting him hard enough that he needed to sit back down. His second attempt was more successful, and he managed to make it there and back unscathed. By the time he returned from his adventure, Munch, Huang, and Cabot had all dipped.

"Fuckers didn't even say goodbye." He laughed and swayed slightly as he took his seat.

Fin was in the middle of recounting some story about a case he had had back in his narcotics days but, by the looks of it, Benson wasn't hearing a word he was saying. Instead, focused solely on ridding the bottle in front of her of its label. Even drunk Elliot could tell her head was somewhere else; definitely not in the conversation she was supposed to be having with Fin.

She had hardly been drinking or talking the whole time, he noticed. It crossed his mind for a second to ask if she was ok, but he thought better of it, letting Fin finish his story.

Fin seemed unfazed. Instead, when he finished his story, he stated that he was gonna head out, catch a taxi. "You good to make it home, Olivia?" He had asked his partner.

"Oh, yeah. Practically sober. Thanks, man. See you Monday." She gave the man a smile before he turned and walked out of the bar.

"You weren't really drinking." Elliot points out the obvious to her as she made her way out of the stool.

"Weren't really into it tonight." She stated plainly. "Are you okay to get home?" If Elliot wasn't so drunk, he would have heard the hesitancy in her voice to ask; though he didn't need to be sober to know she was only asking as a common curtesy.

He was definitely not okay enough to get home, not that he still wanted to go there but he didn't want to be a burden to this woman. "Yeah, Benson." He stood, trying to be cautious to not let on his intoxication levels.

He failed miserably, however. As soon as he stood, his wallet managed to fall from his back pocket, to which he immediately tried to retrieve. Instead, his head felt a lot heavier than it ever had and he managed to almost face-plant straight into the bar floor.

He didn't register the laugh Oliva let out, trying to get up and still grab the wallet. When he returned to standing, he did notice the smile on her face.

"Yeah, super okay there, Stabler." She laughed again as he regained focus on her.

It was really the first time he saw her smile, or the first time she smiled at him. His drunk brain thought best to smile in return. "Okay, yeah. I'm drunk."

"I can tell. C'mon, I'll take you home." She grabbed her keys off the table.

"You don't need to drive me all the way back to Queens, I'll get there."

"It's alright, I don't really want to go home anyway. The drive will be good for me."

Elliot was almost a little surprised she stated something almost personal… the alcohol flooding his blood stream also causing him to say more than he would've without. "I don't want to go home either."

The too looked at each other for a long moment before Olivia spoke. "Well, it's still a bit of a hike out to Queens, you can decide closer."

With that, the two found Olivia's squad car and headed for the Bridge.

Elliot watched as the city lights blurred [even more] behind them as they left the city. Neither cop said a word for most of the drive. Olivia thought maybe Elliot had dozed off at someone point but didn't look over to confirm. It wasn't until she felt eyes boring into her that she thought to check Elliot's direction.

"What?" She didn't mean for it to sound as irritated as it came out.

"Thank you." His response was calm. "For taking me home."

"I couldn't just leave you there."

"Yeah, you could have."

"Well I guess it's just my bleeding heart that made me do it."

Elliot chuckled at her reply. "I see you're still not over that."

"You over the shit I've said about you?" She almost laughed at the irony of the whole situation. Who would have thought they would in this situation? She'd done her best to avoid this man at work – big, bad Elliot Stabler who doesn't need anyone or anything – and here she is, taking care of him: alone with him, no less.

"No, I guess not." Elliot returned his gaze back out the window toward the water. "It's been hard these past few months, all these cases… Guess you weren't completely wrong with all those things you said before."

Olivia only gives a slight grunt in response, trying to avoid this conversation getting too mushy. She still couldn't say she completely cared for this guy and him being drunk in her passenger seat wasn't going to erase the last five years.

"I've been struggling. There's so many things I wish I could go back and do over." Okay, we're going there.

"Yeah, well that's the shit thing about this job." She sighed; her shoulders loosened only slightly. "You can never go back and change things that have already happened..."

Elliot sits up a little straighter. If he were sober, he would be surprised that Olivia is even entertaining this conversation. "Yeah, you kill yourself to make something happen or you do nothing and… it doesn't matter… there's always another child molester, there's always another rapist."

She looked over again at him, his eyes unfocussed and staring out the front window as he continued. "You have to sell a little piece of yourself to get the job done. So, what's the point?" He paused.

She wasn't sure if the question was rhetoric. But she thought about it anyway – what was the point of all it? Catch a few whilst so many go free, watching these people die a little more inside every time they have to retell their story, holding them when they cry. Is it all worth it?

When he still didn't continue, she replied. "I don't know, maybe there isn't a point…" There was another moment's pause where both detectives contemplated their direction, hell, their dedication. Olivia spoke first. "Maybe the cost is too high. No one is making us do this… The difference between us and all the victims is that we can just walk away."

Elliot's head whipped toward her, startling her out of her own musings. He looked at her for a moment before letting out a deep, loud scoff. "You really think you can walk away from all this? Like that would change anything. Like you could stop looking at people around you as nothing more than victims and perps. Like you could look at a child and not see all the evil that could come to them."

He paused his outburst, giving a calmer, almost airy huff. "You think we can just walk away?"

"No."


AN: Hope you all are enjoying! I'm really enjoying writing these alternates to canon episodes. Anyway, next chapter up next week :)