A/N: Thank you so much for the response to the first chapter! Now, we need to find out what happens during this one week until we get to that first scene... Let me know what you think!

2 - THIN AIR

"I've been waiting for you."

That was the first thing the man who had been sitting by himself inside the interrogation room for the past twenty minutes said when he saw Olivia walking in, the foreboding in his voice sending Elliot's heart racing as he watched from outside.

"So I've heard," she said as she pulled the other chair, the rusty sound of metal scraping the floor carrying through the speaker before she took a seat. She looked intent on cutting to the chase as she crossed her legs and smiled, doing a very good job of hiding the myriad of emotions Elliot knew were hitting her all at once. "My colleagues told me you knew my name and wanted to speak to me. Why?"

Sometimes it still felt unreal to be looking at her. She had come back the same way she had left — without warning. One day, he just didn't find her back at the station or on the other end of her disconnected phone number, like she'd fallen off the face of the Earth. Almost two months later, she had materialized in a hospital room where he was interviewing a witness and jumped right into asking questions, like she'd never been away.

As Olivia stared down the man sitting across from her, Elliot once again took in the new length of her hair, pulled back in a high, messy ponytail, and the novelty of the bangs now gracing her forehead as they diverged from the well-known light blue sweater and golden necklace glinting against her chest. Somehow, she looked even more beautiful than he remembered, even as she barely wore any make up — which he knew could probably be explained by the delay in her arrival this morning.

The delay that had made him pace nervously through the bullpen earlier, equipped with the excuse to get another cup of coffee or another file from the cabinet in order to hide the persistent anxiety that had nothing to do with work.

Elliot got anxious now whenever Olivia didn't show up where she was supposed to be. He was afraid she would just disappear into thin air again.

The man facing her seemed to be in no hurry to answer her question or do anything at all for that matter. Elliot noticed he wasn't even wearing a watch while she still looked flustered from the rush to get to the precinct and probably from the adrenaline boiling just underneath the surface of her overall-controlled exterior, as well as on his own side of the glass.

The old man just shrugged. "I read about you in the paper a few times. Your name stuck with me."

Olivia's smile widened as she had yet to completely catch her breath, and Elliot knew her keenness to look collected before the mysterious man wasn't helping. He knew she was still adjusting to being back. This job was who she was, and theoretically she hadn't been away for that long, but it felt like a lot had changed. She seemed different, and he knew he was different, too. It was almost like getting to know each other again, the rush into their old familiarity falling short as a failed endeavor.

She took her thumb to her forehead and rubbed slowly with a scoff before looking at him again, her lips pressed together with frustration. "You're gonna have to do a little better than that. Why are you here?"

"I told them outside, I wanna come clean," he replied matter-of-factly. Patiently, even. "I did some bad things, and I wanna make 'em right before I die."

There was a difference between having information about several crimes and having done some bad things, and Olivia's quick glance at the glass reflected Elliot's reaction as he acknowledged it. Maybe the point of observing should be to keep his eyes on the man they were trying to gather information on, he reminded himself while he otherwise ignored his own implied reprimand and watched Olivia intently as her head tilted and her eyes squinted, like she hadn't heard the man right.

"Before you die?" she said.

"I'm sick. Cancer." He clicked his tongue with a smirk, like he wasn't saying anything too serious, just mentioning an unfortunate mishap, and while the thought hadn't necessarily occurred to Elliot, he figured it made sense that the man was sick, with his difficulty walking, the lack of color on his prematurely-aged face and the way he seemed to be a few pounds below the weight range for his height.

Olivia swallowed hard, hunching her shoulders back toward the chair. Her voice became deeper. The guy was playing at her empathy, and it was working despite her best efforts to stay impartial. "I'm sorry."

One corner of the man's mouth turned up in a crooked smile. "You won't be after you hear about the things I've done."

The push and pull game the man seemed to be playing sounded ominous to Elliot as he put the pieces of the puzzle together: after making Olivia feel sorry for him one minute, the man had just told her she was about to find out he wasn't worthy of the sentiment. The calculated way he was dealing with her in addition to the fact that he had singled her out was making it all only look bleaker in Elliot's mind.

"Which are…" her eyes narrowed even further as she clearly tried to move it along. Elliot could see she didn't appreciate the attempt to play mind games with her.

"I'm a rapist," the man's voice was dry, and if any part of his admission was remorseful, it didn't become apparent. This was actually the first thing he said that he seemed to be taking seriously.

Elliot contemplated it in her every muscle as Olivia tried to suppress any reactions, but she couldn't just pretend she was immune to a categorical confession like that — he didn't know that anybody had that power, well aware of his nails biting into his palms inside his own tight fists. He changed his focus to the perp momentarily as he thought about how watching his words ripple through her seemed to be the very reason this man had come out the woodwork.

It was all a game, the invisible board laid out on the table, and Elliot hated the fact that he didn't know any of the rules. Olivia alone in there looked like a sacrificial pawn, and that was the worst part for him.

So far, she was doing a pretty good job of keeping her cool under the circumstances, though. "And you wanna tell me about your victims?"

"Yes," her adversary confirmed, calm, composed, his body in the same position he had been sitting all along.

Olivia nodded slowly, mirroring his stillness. "Okay… Why don't you start by telling me your name?"

The man pondered for a minute. "You can call me Paul for now."

"Paul?" she echoed with another almost imperceptible head movement towards the glass, and Elliot nodded back even though he knew she couldn't see it.

If his bullshit detector was correct, that was certainly not the man's real name, but he seemed determined to stay in control of everything, which certainly included this crucial information. "Yeah, Paul."

Olivia smiled and sat back, crossing her arms. "Okay, Paul… You wanna start telling me your story? I've got all day."

Elliot smiled at her perfectly-feigned nonchalance.

"Sure," Paul smiled back, his own indifference cracking now. "I wanna start with Jackie."

"Jackie," Olivia repeated, delicately urging him on.

He sighed, as though revisiting a fond memory, his eyes wandering as if the pieces were projected on the walls. "She was graduating high school with my brother."

"Son of a bitch," Elliot muttered to the captain next to him. "He knows we can't charge him. Statute of limitations."

"Let her work him," Cragen appeased. "He wants to tell her his story from the beginning. Who knows, maybe the ending actually involves a more recent victim."

Olivia didn't falter, still looking like an avid listener. "And how old were you?"

"I don't know," Elliot shook his head. "Looks to me like he just wants to push her buttons. But why? And why her?"

His stomach churned as his mind restarted running all the possible scenarios for a middle-aged rapist fixating on Olivia.

"I was just starting college," Paul went on, moving his body forward on the chair and leaning his forearms on the table. Elliot wondered if he noticed the very slight trepidation in Olivia as she registered the loss in inches between them. "She was beautiful. She had long, blond hair and these gorgeous, blue eyes. She wore this ribbon around her hair sometimes…" His wistful smile disappeared all of a sudden. "But she wouldn't give me the time of day."

Olivia's lips puckered with interest as she boldly copied his motion, interlacing her fingers as her arms came to share the space on the table with his, closing the gap a little more. "Why not?"

"I don't know," Paul waved a hand, his glance now less discrete as it raked her features. "High school girls were supposed to be into college boys, right?"

"Right," Olivia smiled, and Elliot wondered if she was recalling an experience of her own, a tinge of discomfort making itself known in the back of his throat.

Maybe Paul was wondering the same thing as he grinned with a knowing look; was he feeling jealous imagining Olivia with someone else? Why? What sort of fixation was this he had with her? Did he want her for himself? His voice came out vaguely spiteful when he spoke again. "But Jackie wasn't interested. She already had a boyfriend."

"Was he also your brother's classmate?" Paul was silent for a moment, and Elliot understood. So did Olivia, her eyebrows arched as she answered her own question. "He was her boyfriend."

"I'm not proud of myself," Paul looked away. "I just wanted her to notice me. One day, she arrived early, and I was home alone. My brother was out playing basketball, and I told her to come inside and wait for him…"

Elliot saw the uneasiness in Olivia's expression even if no one else could, the air growing thinner to her nostrils only. "What did you do?"

Paul cocked his head to the side. "I tried to kiss her… She wasn't having it."

"Did you stop trying when she said no?" Olivia asked, almost too eager, and Elliot bit his lower lip, apprehension building in the pit of his stomach.

Paul's eyes remained glued on hers. "No."

She nodded, making a visible effort to keep her features in check, but her voice was barely above a whisper and gave her away as she prepared herself for the gory details she was about to request. "What happened next?"

"I was a lot stronger than her… I had no difficulty restraining her." Paul made a pause, during which he looked at Olivia tentatively for a second before looking away again. Could he be…ashamed? "I…I had sex with her."

Olivia swallowed, her eyes now glistening with poorly-contained anger. "Did she want to have sex with you?" she asked through semi-clenched teeth.

Paul shrugged, still looking down. "No."

"Then it wasn't sex," she barked, and Elliot saw her chin quivering ever so slightly.

"Alright," the man conceded, waving his hands in surrender. "I raped her."

"Yes you did, you son of a bitch," Elliot whispered, watching the same thought filter through Olivia's eyes while she kept her mouth sealed.

"And what did Jackie do?" she asked, already back in control of her features.

Paul's eyes looked devoid of any emotion as he spoke. "She cried. She tried to scream, so I gagged her."

Olivia sucked in a shaky breath. "I meant…if she did anything about it. Did she say anything to anyone?"

"She tried to tell my brother…" he shrugged. "He didn't believe her. Thought she cheated on him with me, broke up with her. Didn't speak to me for years."

Olivia nodded, failing to conceal a sigh Elliot knew originated in her heartbreak for the victim. She held her head up again with renewed strength to speak. "You never heard of her again?"

Paul's reply was a dismissive shake of his head. A second later, a look of fascination took over, and Elliot could hardly keep up as the man switched between looking ashamed and proud of his actions all the while shooting Olivia the occasional look so as to gauge the effects of his words on her "It was…it was like nothing I'd ever felt before. I felt so…powerful. I just…knew I was gonna do it again."

Olivia's muscles tensed visibly now. "So Jackie was only the first one?" She seemed in a rush to move on, aware that there was no point delving any further into the details of an old rape case she wasn't going to be able to do anything about.

Paul nodded slowly and scratched his chin absentmindedly, a hint of a smile poorly hidden. "She was."

"But there were others," she demanded, impulsive.

"Easy, Liv," Elliot sighed, touching the glass with his forehead and willing her to take it down a notch.

Whether motivated by Olivia's impatience or not, Paul seemed to be growing somewhat restless himself. He fidgeted in place, not offering many clues as to what his thoughts were now. "Yes…a few. Over the years," was his vague response.

Olivia picked up on it, still watching him closely and making a visible effort to rein in her anxiety. "Tell me about them," she urged softly.

Paul took a deep breath. "Later," he said abruptly. "I'm getting tired now."

"What do you mean?" she asked with pleading eyes initially, then applying a coat of innuendo, undoubtedly intended to massage his ego. "I cleared my schedule for you."

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I'll be back," he said, his tone morphed into one of almost benevolence. "You see, the treatment…the chemo… It makes my feet and my hands tingle. It's pins and needles, most of the time. I can barely feel the floor. Driving is the worst. My legs hurt, too. I actually gotta go get chemo. Tuesdays and Fridays."

Olivia sent an alarmed look through the glass that Elliot easily decoded: they needed to find out if Paul had come driving; that could give them a license plate, a name, and possibly so much more. Elliot didn't want her to get her hopes up. This didn't seem like the kind of guy who slipped up and revealed clues recklessly.

"You're in pain right now," she acknowledged, lowering her eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry."

Paul furrowed his brow in what looked like an expression that mixed pain and resignation. "Yes. You see, Olivia… I believe I'm already being punished."

His statement appeared to leave her at a loss for words and glued to her chair while he started to rehearse his departure, like she didn't want to accept the end of the interview or his self-imposed penitence. "Then why come here?" she asked.

He chuckled with a wave of his hand as though it was strikingly obvious. "Because I wanted to tell you." He stood up with some difficulty, seeming to lose his balance a little at first, but then grounding himself on the table, gripping at it for support as he moved away from his chair. "I will tell you," he promised. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Olivia eventually stood as well, reluctantly, taking a step back when Paul unexpectedly walked towards her. Elliot balled his fists at the sudden proximity. "Tomorrow?" she mumbled.

The man smiled, like they were going to meet for coffee the next day, a pleasant meeting, not a cop taking a perp's statement about his crimes. "Yes, tomorrow. You'll be here, right?"

She nodded, a bit more vehemently than Elliot would have wanted her to, which made him fear for her, already overly concerned about the repercussions of her involvement in this case. "I'll be here."

Paul extended a hand towards her, and Elliot felt his face turn red at the prospect of this man even considering touching her. He was just offering his hand for her to shake, though. She didn't take it.

The old man withdrew the contact while his stare lingered on her for another second. "Tomorrow I'll tell you about Betty."

"He knows we can't keep him," Olivia said, distractedly playing with the pendant in her necklace between her thumb and index finger, presumably oblivious to Elliot's unbreakable scrutiny.

"You're sure you don't know this guy?" he asked, hands on his waist, worry pulsing in his forehead.

"Of course I'm sure, Elliot," Olivia smiled with annoyance, then turned to the captain. "How did he get inside the building without an ID?"

"The desk sergeant said he didn't have any on him but he knew your name and the unit you belonged to, and insisted he wanted to give you information about a crime," Cragen reported. "He was thoroughly frisked. He wasn't carrying any weapons, so officers brought him up."

"And we can't get a sample of his DNA, get his prints?" Elliot was impatient; he needed information, anything that could help him feel in control of this situation.

"As you know, he hasn't given us enough for a warrant," the captain replied pointedly. "He came in voluntarily, and since he's not under arrest, he's free to go as he pleases."

Elliot sucked his lower lip into his mouth as he contained the urge to kick or punch something, limiting his movement to a short and fast shake of his head. "So we're just gonna waste our time listening to this guy's old stories? We don't even know if they're real."

"I don't know, Elliot," Olivia said, her big, brown eyes zeroing in on him with purpose. "I think there's something to it."

Elliot nodded his disagreement, his glance shifting between her eyes as they held the power to dismantle his resistance, defuse his anger. "I think he's just messing with you. And I'd like to know why you. Don't you think it's weird he came in asking for you?"

"Yes, I do. And I know he's messing with me. But still… I feel that there's something worth pursuing, even if he's in control of the situation, even if he doesn't give us anything to start with."

The three of them started a silent walk back from the interrogation rooms, each lost in their own thoughts, before Olivia spoke again, not a lot of hope showing as she asked questions out of due diligence. "Did you try to offer him something to drink to get his saliva or his prints?"

"Yeah, he said he didn't want anything," Elliot sighed.

"Maybe if you offer something to him tomorrow," Cragen suggested. "He might take it if it's coming from you. If you bat your lashes right."

Elliot directed an angry look at the back of Cragen's head at the suggestion, disapproving as he was of the strategy of using Olivia as bait in any way, even when he knew it was the best, possibly the only course of action they had.

A uniform approached them as they entered the squadroom. "The suspect took a cab, sir. Here's the license plate."

"Thank you," Cragen said. Before marching back to his office, he angled his head in Olivia's direction, which the officer understood as an instruction to give the piece of paper he was offering to her.

"Thanks," she said as the officer walked away and left her and Elliot alone. She looked down, put the piece of paper away in her drawer, and pretended to rearrange the items on her desk, which Elliot knew was an attempt to mask how deep her apprehension ran. "Do you think he's really coming back tomorrow?"

He walked to her slowly, stopping by her side. "Are you alright?"

She looked up at him, surprised and, if his reading was correct, a little embarrassed. She smiled to cover it up. "Of course. You think the old man scared me?"

"A little, yeah," he lowered the pitch of his voice.

Olivia scoffed, her attempt to look unaffected falling flat. "Please."

"Scared me, too," Elliot insisted with a hand to her shoulder that sent her head darting toward his in surprise at the unexpected move: he knew that touching was something they usually treated as a last resort, especially now, but that was the very reason he used it to drive his point home. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

He noticed her effort to hide it as her breaths became relatively more shallow as opposed to the increased width of her stare. "I know," she rushed to assure him before proceeding to play it down. "But it's like you said, for all we know these are just stories he's making up."

"You know that's not the scary part," he followed her face with his when she turned away, standing only a couple of inches from her now and causing a shiver she wasn't able to disguise. "I wanna know why he came here looking for you."

She looked at him pointedly, challenging his closeness and his touch so as to show him her fearlessness, but he saw it when her glance dropped to his mouth for a split second. "So do I, but we have to be patient. It's all a game to him."

Talk about playing games, he thought to himself as he granted her silent request and withdrew his head, standing upright again. His hand stubbornly stayed on her shoulder for another moment, giving it a light squeeze before breaking contact entirely, his fingertips still tingling with electricity. "I just don't like to see you playing it."

She sighed, looking relieved after reacquiring the entirety of her personal space. "It's not like we have another option right now. Unfortunately, he holds all the cards."

That was precisely the problem.