Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.

Author's Note: My last note was kidding….but this one is serious. Please be warned that this chapter is going to contain sensitive content and graphic descriptions. I am advising everyone to read at their own risk.

He could feel his head spinning, and he became afraid that he might start seizing again. He never remembered what it felt like during the episode, but always remembered the terror he felt before and right afterward.

Olivia had a frightened look on her face as she looked at him. "Elliot, what is it?" she whispered. He had never heard her voice sound so meek before. It sounded almost fragile.

She could feel her heart starting to hammer. He looked so terrified and so haunted at the same time that she had to fight the impulse to look away from him.

"I've never told this to anyone, Olivia," he whispered brokenly. "Not ever. Not ever."

He leaned forward and put his head down between his knees. Olivia couldn't have said anything even if she had wanted to. She just waited.

After a minute, he raised his head. When he spoke, his voice was flat and emotionless. "Remember that time that we had the psych evaluations, and I told the shrink that I fantasized about killing child molesters?"

"Ye-" The word caught in her throat, and she had to clear it before she could continue. "Yeah, of course."

She would never forget that. It had shocked the living hell out of her…but she suspected that he had been even more shocked.

"I picture my kids every time we get arrest a pedophile, Olivia," he said. "Every god damned time…even now I do. I always will." He stopped abruptly and took a huge breath. "Everyone thinks that's why I am so dedicated to this job."

Olivia saw the panic in his eyes as they darted to hers crazily. "I love my kids, Liv," he said desperately. His face twisted, and he looked terrified as his voice rose hysterically. "Jesus Christ…I love my kids so much, you have to know that. You have to know that."

She looked at him, becoming scared herself. "I know," she said in a hushed tone. She took his hand, if only to give herself more courage. "Elliot, I know."

A sob escaped his lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. "They aren't the reason, Olivia," he said quietly. "I still want to murder child molesters…..I still dream about it at night, so much that it makes me almost fucking orgasm. But they aren't the reason."

She gulped louder than she intended to. When she spoke, she couldn't stop her voice from shaking. "What is?"

He pulled his hand away abruptly and slid a few inches away, his gaze fixing on the wall beside the bed. He didn't look at her as he spoke, his voice flat and lifeless.

"My legal name is Elliot Stabler," he said. "But my birth certificate will always say Elliot Sanford…I was born Elliot Sanford."

Olivia found herself speechless. Of all she had been bracing herself to hear, that wasn't even a possibility.

He reached over to fumble underneath his pillow. He pulled a crinkled piece of paper out and held it out with shaking hands. Wordlessly, she reached for it.

Her breath was lost when she looked at the photograph in her hands. The young woman smiling out at her was stunningly gorgeous. Her jet black hair flowed down past her breasts, full and thick with loosely curled ends brushing her ribcage. Her skin was smooth and flawless.

The woman's eyes seemed to pierce right through the paper. The bright blue was such an intense contrast to the dark hair that it almost seemed unreal…and frightening in their familiarity.

She couldn't hold back her startled gasp at the woman's wide, stunning smile. It was too identical to be anything but. Her eyes shot up, and the look in his eyes confirmed what she was thinking.

"Her name was Elle," he said, his voice hoarse. "She was 19 years old when she gave birth….she named me after herself. She said I was her heaven."

"No, Mommy! Not the monster!" he cried, trying to climb underneath the kitchen table. He squealed as she dove and caught him in her arms, lifting him up. His laughter rang loudly. "I'll be good…not the monster!"

Her smile was so wide it seemed to break her face as she looked at her seven year-old son in her arms. "Did you sneak a cookie, Elliot?" she asked, her voice threatening to break with the laughter she was trying to hold in.

She turned him toward racks of chocolate chip cookies that they had set there to cool. The glaringly empty spot between two of them was a dead giveaway.

He squealed again as she held up her hands threateningly. "Did you?"

She knew he wouldn't lie. Her baby was an angel…whenever he did try to lie, he would feel so bad that he would always start to cry right after he said it.

"Yes!" he said.

She tried her best to put on a stern face. "The tickle monster says he doesn't like it when Elliot sneaks a cookie before dinner…" she droned. Her face melted into a grin in an instant when she heard his laughter. He wiggled around, but she held on tight and dug her fingers into his sides.

"Can you breathe?"

He giggled hysterically, gasping for air. The fingers kept going, ruthlessly digging into his sides.

"Can you breathe?" she asked again, her face crinkled from laughter. She let up.

"Do it again!" he cried gleefully. "Do it again!"

Her face lit up with laughter as she tickled him again. His delighted squeals floated in the air.

Tears were rolling down his face as he was speaking. He reached out and took the photo back from Olivia, cradling it as if it would shatter in his hands.

"She was so beautiful, wasn't she?" he whispered, his voice breaking.

Olivia's eyes filled with tears at the sound of his voice. "Yes," she said softly. She leaned closer to view it again. "Like a movie star."

She looked at him, scared to death now. She no longer had any idea what would be coming from his mouth. The light chuckle surprised her, and she watched him smile and wipe his tears quickly.

"A movie star," he said wistfully. He chuckled again, his face breaking into the radiant smile that matched the one in the picture. "You're right." He looked up at her, a glowing look crossing over to cover the sorrowful eyes for a moment.

"She loved flowers…I used to pick dandelions from behind the house and give them to her. They were always droopy and pathetic and brown, but she'd display them in a crystal vase on the coffee table so everyone could see them." He smiled sadly at the memory. "Every night we would sing after she tucked me in…'You Are My Sunshine'."

Olivia watched the smile leave his face then. His blue eyes clouded over. "Sometimes she would get really sad. I never knew why. I asked her one time why she had to take pills every night before bed, and she told me it was because she was sick and they would make her feel better."

She realized what he was implying then. They had seen too many schizophrenics in their job for her not to know what he meant.

"But no matter how much she was sad, she always smiled for me," he said softly.

She sat on the edge of his bed and tenderly pulled the covers up to rest near his neck. Reaching down, she gripped his hand tightly in both of hers and kissed it lovingly.

"I love you," she murmured, smoothing her hand over his forehead. She leaned down and kissed his cheek, letting her nose rest there. "More than anything in the entire world."

She seemed sad, and he wondered why. His blue eyes were puzzled, but he answered anyway. "I love you, too, Mommy."

He bit his lip then, and Olivia watched his expression suddenly darken.

"My father's name was William," he went on. "He was a registered sex offender…had been since he was 20 years old."

Olivia's eyes flew wide in shock, and she was momentarily speechless as horror overtook her features.

As the memories played themselves out, his voice became hollow and detached. He had taught himself long ago not to feel anymore. The words seemed robotic and flowed from his mouth before he could think about them.

He was awakened by the squeak of his bedroom door opening. Peeking out from under the covers, dread overcame him as he watched the familiar sight of the shadow cast on the wall. His father shut the door quietly behind him.

It was midnight. Elliot knew this without ever looking at the clock…it was always midnight when he came. He felt the familiar sickness creep into his stomach as he watched his father tiptoe toward his bed. Sliding down quickly, he squeezed his eyes shut and pretended to be asleep.

He could hear the sound of the belt becoming unbuckled as his father came closer. The shoes were slipped off, making a soft squeaking noise as William toed each one from his foot as he walked.

'Please make him go away,' he prayed fervently. His small body began shaking. 'God, please make him go away.'

William's breath was heavy and slow as he approached the small twin bed. Reaching out, he grasped the comforter and lifted it. Elliot squeezed his eyes shut as the blanket was lifted off of him and the cool air hit his body. He kept still, hoping to appear asleep.

It wouldn't make a difference. It never did, whether or not he was awake.

He could smell the soap from his father's shower as he listened to the familiar swishing sound of jeans being slipped off. The bed springs groaned when the added weight was lifted on top.

He held his breath and prayed desperately again. The feeling of a large hand stroking over his face made his eyes fly open, and he realized that God had been too busy again.

The dark eyes locked with the wide blue ones, and the man smiled as he started caressing the soft cheeks of his son. Frightened tears spilled out despite his best efforts to hold them in.

"Be quiet, Elliot," he heard his father whisper. "You had better be quiet."

The warning wasn't needed; his mouth was so dry that he couldn't feel his tongue.

He felt the large body press against his side, and he couldn't stop the whimper that escaped.

A big hand came up to firmly cover his mouth as the other one slipped into the waistband of his pajama bottoms. The large fingers quickly pushed into his briefs and wrapped around his penis.

The soft squeezing made him moan in pain, but he quickly choked it back, terrified when he saw his father's angry eyes.

William removed his hand from his mouth and brought it down to tug down the small pajama pants. They bunched at his knees. The underwear followed, and he sucked in a breath when he felt the cool air on his exposed genitals.

"Look at me," he hissed. The threat was clear in his tone. "You had better look at me."

Elliot did as he said, bringing his gaze down. The large penis was erect and hard, straining for attention. He trembled so badly that he couldn't sit still.

"No," he whimpered, unable to help himself. "Please, Daddy. Please don't."

He paid no attention as he lifted his body up. "Open your mouth, Elliot," he said, his voice breaking with anticipation. His fingers were clenching the sheets, sweating with tension.

The hands shot up suddenly and gripped at his face, pinching so hard that he cried out. "Open up your mouth," his father growled angrily again.

Elliot obeyed this time, and felt himself choke almost immediately when he shoved hard inside. It slid deep into the back of his throat, and he gagged.

William whimpered and groaned in ecstasy, thrusting over and over. He withdrew several minutes later, and Elliot sobbed loudly.

William shot forward and clamped his hand over Elliot's mouth again hard. His body was drenched in sweat. Taking his other hand, he lifted his son's body up a few inches and rolled him over.

Elliot felt his face being pressed hard into his pillow as he cried. He didn't have time to brace himself before William shoved hard into his rectum, and the cycle was repeated.

Olivia was crying silent tears. He looked at her with an agonized expression, but his eyes were bone dry.

"He raped me every night for three years," he continued woodenly. "He said if I told anyone he would kill my mother by breaking her neck. I'd seen him kill a rabbit that way once."

His eyes closed. "She found out by accident…she came into my room to shut the windows because I always left them open at night, even when it was cold." His voice dried up and he stopped speaking.

Olivia was shaking now; the sobs had crept up and taken over. But she made no sound. She couldn't look at him.

Elliot's voice became hoarse. "We left that night. She told my dad that if he ever came near us she was going to call the police. I could hear him yelling as we pulled away from the curb... 'Please don't go, please don't go'.

His chin began to tremble. "We pulled off the road about five minutes later," he whispered. "I had never seen her cry before. She was crying so hard that she was shaking." He gulped as the tears started to flow. "She hugged me so tight that I couldn't breathe….kept saying she was so sorry, so sorry."

Her voice echoed in his head. She had been hysterical. He remembered how scared he had felt when he heard her….she never cried.

Shaking his head quickly, he refocused. "We spent the night with one of her friends. The house was huge. We had our own rooms….but she came into mine and laid next to me. All night long….she was so warm…so warm."

His voice became distant. "She hugged me as she fell asleep and kept whispering that she loved me… that she would always protect me."

Elliot fell silent again, and Olivia watched him start to shake violently. Alarm surged through her and almost made her stop breathing.

"Elliot," she choked out, through her tears. "Elliot…are you alright?"

She couldn't handle it if he had another seizure. She felt as if she was going to shatter.

He didn't answer her. His head came down between his knees and he began to breathe rapidly. His words were flowing beyond his control.

"I woke up and heard screaming….when I rolled over, she wasn't next to me anymore."

"You bitch! You bitch!"

He jumped when he heard his father's voice. Fear shot through him. "Mommy…" he whimpered, rolling over. She wasn't there.

His words replayed themselves in Elliot's mind: "You keep your mouth shut, boy…if you say anything to anyone, I'm going to kill your mother. I'll snap her neck and make you watch."

There was a loud crash. The bedroom door flew open and his mother's friend came running in. "Elliot, get up, honey," she said frantically. "Come on."

She was pulling him out of bed as she spoke. He stumbled as she grabbed his hand and started running down the hall toward the back door. He wriggled around violently. "Jessie," he cried to her. "My mom…where's my mom?"

A loud shriek cut through the house as they were passing the kitchen.

"Elle!" his mother's friend cried. She dropped his hand and ran into the room.

"Shut up, you whore!" William growled. He had her by the hair and was wrenching her head back. She clawed at him frantically with her fingernails.

"How dare you touch my son!" she screamed hysterically. "I'm going to kill you…you son of a bitch!"

He watched Jessie fly at his father from behind and start beating on his back with her fists. His mother dropped to the ground as William turned toward the other woman.

His mother was getting to her feet when she noticed him. Her blue eyes were wide, matching his own. "Elliot!" she cried. "Run! Run!"

He was frozen. She came running to him and gripped his shoulders, roughly shaking him. "Do as I say!" she screamed. "Now!"

A thumping made her whip her head around. William was slamming Jessie's head against the kitchen cabinets. Her body thumped to the ground when his hands fell away and didn't move.

His mother's eyes became panicked. He felt himself being picked up and was flying through the air as she ran with him.

Suddenly, he was on the ground. His mother was screaming as William tackled her and pinned her to the floor, and even then she was searching for her son.

"Get out, Elliot!" she cried, half-sobbing. "Run, baby!"

His eyes flew wide when his father backhanded her across the face and her head snapped back. "Mommy!" he screamed, running over to them.

He jumped at his father, raining his small fists down on his shoulders as hard as he could.

"You little shit," his father growled. He reached behind him and grabbed him by the hair, yanking him roughly off of him. She screamed when William slammed him down hard on the floor.

His head exploded with pain as he hurled against the wood. She was screaming his name frantically. "You stupid bitch!" William kept shouting. The sound of his hand slapping her kept echoing. "Motherfucking bitch!"

Elliot rolled over and saw his father snatch her by the hair again. She was screaming as he began to drag her back toward the kitchen.

He forced himself to get up, and stumbled after them. He was so dizzy that he had to hold onto the wall to keep himself upright.

William opened a drawer with one hand while keeping hold of her with the other. "I'll teach you!" he yelled over her screams. "I'll teach you and your little bastard brat!"

The light reflected off of the large carving knife he held in his hand. Elliot's eyes flew wide. Elle was screaming bloody murder now in a last-ditch effort and wiggling around desperately.

He screamed when his father brought the knife down into her middle.

There was a sickening splattering sound, and his mother's face reflected shock. Her skin became deadly pale and her eyes widened. William brought the instrument down, deeper and deeper until a cracking sound echoed in the air.

"Mommy!" he screamed, sobbing. "Mommy!"

She sputtered in a breath as he withdrew the blade. Elliot's gaze was on his father, watching his eyes. They were so cold…so cold. The knife came down again, and Elliot squeezed his eyes shut.

His eyes were wide. He seemed catatonic as he shuddered over and over. "I ran out the back door and to the house across the street," he said in a choked voice. "The couple who lived there…the man was a police officer."

He gulped in a breath. "It was Cragen, Olivia. He lived across the street from my mom's friend."

She had her arms wrapped around her middle and was sobbing freely now, not even bothering to hide the sound anymore.

"Son?"

Don crouched next to the young boy sitting against the wall. The police officers had tried to move him away from his mother's body, but he hadn't budged. He just sat beside the sheet-covered form silently.

"Son," the young man tried again. "What's your name?"

No response. Don hesitantly reached out toward him and was startled when the boy suddenly yelled out angrily. His hand snatched back quickly.

"I stayed with him and Marge for two days and then the police took me to a home," he said. "They kept telling me that it was only for the night; that my grandmother was going to come in the morning and get me."

He shook his head. "A night turned into a week, a week turned into a year…" he said desperately. "No one came. They just left me there.

Cragen came all the time…he kept begging Social Services to let him take me. They wouldn't listen…said I had to be with a relative. It didn't matter…I didn't want to be around anyone."

He sucked in a breath. "My father went to jail when I was 12," he said. "I wasn't allowed to go to the trial…said it would be 'too traumatic'." He scoffed angrily. "I lived in that place for another six years. I joined the service the day I turned 18, so I could get out of there."

His eyes were narrowed. "The day before I went to boot camp, I went down to court and changed my name," he said. "Stabler was my grandmother's maiden name, on my mom's side…I didn't want any part of that bastard in me."

Olivia took a shuddering breath through her tears. He had seen her crying the whole time he had been speaking, but it didn't make a difference to him at the moment. He was too numb to feel anything.

"I hadn't thought about that day for almost thirty years," he said, his eyes filled with tears. "I found this picture in my closet the day you came over to help me with those boxes."

All the pieces suddenly clicked into place for her. She closed her eyes in horror and shame. All this time, she had been upset because he wasn't talking to her…and he was here with a burden like this.

She had always felt secretly spiteful of her partner….he had the perfect life that she had always wished for as a kid. Her mother was drunk all of the time and she had a rapist for a father…and he seemed to be the poster child for stability.

Tears came flowing again. At least she'd had her mother….she couldn't even fathom what it must have been like to see that kind of brutal violence, especially as a child. Her partner had spent his entire life keeping this a secret from everyone. She'd always ribbed him about his protectiveness for his kids….she'd called him "uptight" and "paranoid" more times than she could count.

God…if I'd had any idea…Olivia bowed her head as her shoulders shook.

"I went to see him." His words made her shoot her head up in shock, and gaze at him with tear-filled eyes. "I went to Bedford Hills the other day…I wanted to spit on that bastard."

She gulped in a breath and spoke for the first time in over an hour. "Did you?" Her voice was hoarse.

"He's dead, Liv!" His voice became hysterical. "He had a fucking heart attack!"

She was startled when he suddenly shot off of the bed. He paced the floor frantically, his expression heartbreaking. "Bastard died in his sleep, Olivia!" he screamed. "He died in his sleep….and she….she had to feel…."

His voice broke then, and he fell apart. Olivia watched him fall to the floor. She got to her feet and stumbled over to him. She knelt down beside him and took him into her arms.

His sobs were loud, gut-wrenching, and matched her own.