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.

Olivia's whole body shook as she hugged him tight, pressing her face against the top of his head. She kept trying to pull him closer even when they had no space between them, fisting his shirt frantically in her fingers. Elliot clutched her for dear life, pressing his face so hard into her abdomen that he saw spots behind his closed eyes.

She gasped in a breath, bringing her hand up to stroke his wet face. She continued the motion, over and over, trying to give herself a release from the pain she felt inside for him.

"I just stood there!" he sobbed. "She was lying there dying in front of me…and I just stood there. I just stood there!" He let out an anguished howl that made Olivia shudder.

Try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to speak. Her heart was on the floor, quivering and bleeding, and she felt every sensation as much as if it had been physically ripped from her chest.

He quivered in her arms, and she rubbed her hands up and down his back. "I should have done something," he wailed painfully. "It was me he was after…God why didn't I save her?" He shook with the intensity of new sobs. "She was so perfect…so perfect."

Olivia broke away from him between sobs and bent her head close to his ear. "Elliot, it wasn't your fault," she whispered weakly, rubbing his back in almost panic. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." Another loud sob escaped before she could stop it. "I'm so sorry."

The words dried up, and silence fell. They sat there, on the floor at the foot of his bed, for what seemed like hours. Both had long ago lost all feeling in their legs. But neither moved.

A sudden huge yawn invaded him in the middle of a sob. His emotions had physically sapped all of his energy, and he was left feeling violently exhausted. He moved his head to rest on her chest as the tears continued to drip down his cheeks.

She felt him reposition his face to rest against her, and moved her hands to circle his neck, rubbing and kneading in a rhythmic fashion. His sobs were no longer audible, but she could still feel each one as he cried silently. He was losing the fight to stay awake.

The time suddenly came to mind. When had she gotten his phone call? She thought back. I got out of the shower at…God; it must have been quarter after one. I was in bed for at least twenty minutes before he called…

Her eyes opened wide with shock as she realized that it must have been close to three in the morning. She had no way to tell, since she couldn't see the clock on his nightstand from her position on the floor. His weight was becoming heavier, and she made a decision.

"Elliot," she said soothingly. "Come on, baby."

She pushed away from him until she had enough leverage to move her legs out from under her. They dropped heavily to the floor immediately, completely numb. A soft moan escaped as she had to strain to lift each one enough to jiggle it, trying to get the blood flowing again.

Once she had enough balance, Olivia wrapped her arms around his middle. As soon as her hands moved from where she had been cradling his shoulders, his head flopped limply down against her chest. Continuing to a squatting position, she rose up, lifting him with her.

Her kneecaps popped immediately, as well as her spine. She moved quickly so that she could catch his limp form with her body. Tightening her hold on his middle, she centered her balance and stopped to take a breath.

That wasn't as hard as I thought, she thought in relief.

"Why don't we get some sleep, ok?" she continued, her voice gentle.

He mumbled something in reply without lifting his head. She was soft and warm, and right now he just wanted to sleep for a year.

Chuckling softly, she gently dragged him the few feet to the edge of his bed and sat him down, leaning him back to rest against the pillows. He sank into them immediately. She lifted his legs one at a time and pulled down the comforter on the unmade bed. Once she pulled it up to cover him, she lifted herself up to sit on the edge beside him.

Elliot clutched one of the pillows in his hands and struggled to open his eyes. She winced at the swollen state of them, running a hand over his forehead.

"Stay with me?" he whispered sleepily.

Remembering the words of the paramedics, she nodded. "I'm here, sweetheart," she said softly. "I'll be here."

He nodded weakly and flipped over to rest on his side. He was fast asleep almost instantly.

She sighed softly and smoothed her hand over his hairline gently. For a minute she just sat and watched him sleep. Her own fatigue decided to make itself known then, and she pondered over the idea of where she should sleep.

If the worst were to happen and he were to lapse into another seizure, she needed to be close by…so sleeping downstairs was definitely out.

Her eyes wandered to the empty pillow on the left side of the bed. Should I…? She shook herself mentally, her face flushing involuntarily. Despite the fact that the relationship between them was strictly plutonic, that was out of bounds. Her morals were telling her to stay away from there.

Olivia resigned to her fate of bunking on the floor. She went to the opposite side of the bed and was reaching for the pillow when she heard Elliot whimper softly. Her hand froze were it sat lingering over the pillow, and her eyes darted to his face.

Though his body was perfectly still, his expression reflected agitation. She instantly became alert and reached behind her toward the phone, fearing the worst. His face crumbled and she saw tears begin a steady stream onto the pillow he was burying his face into.

Her heart ached for him. Drawing her hand from behind her back, she got up onto the empty side of the bed and crawled over towards him. Leaning against the headboard, she propped herself up beside him and stretched her legs out in front of her.

Her hand came down to his back and began rubbing slowly, tears slipping from her eyes as she watched him cry. The bed shifted suddenly as he turned and reached his arms out, sobbing. She wasn't entirely sure if he was awake or asleep, but it didn't make a difference to her. She would do anything to erase the look on his face.

She leaned over without hesitation and warmly embraced him, lifting him up. He clutched her tight and buried his face into her stomach. She rubbed his back, feeling him shaking from his sobs.

"It's ok," she soothed quietly. "I'm here, baby. It's ok."

He gasped in breaths, crying hard. "I miss her," he sobbed. "God…I miss her so much."

She clenched her teeth to keep a sob from escaping, but it came anyway. She wanted to take away his pain so badly, but just didn't know what to say.

"I know, sweetheart," she whispered finally, hugging him tighter. "I know you do."

Elliot pressed himself closer to her, burying his face in her neck. Exhaustion claimed him again before he realized it. A minute later he was slumped against her, sound asleep.

Olivia knew that she could have moved him, but decided to stay where she was.

When she opened her eyes again, she was face-down on the comforter. Bewildered, she blinked rapidly and raised herself up to her elbows, looking around for Elliot. She was alone.

Turning over, she looked at the clock. It was 8:30 am.

Sliding over to the edge of the bed, she lifted herself to a sitting position and stretched. As she leaned over to stretch her back muscles, she had a glimpse inside the bathroom. Elliot was on his knees on the carpet with a sponge, scrubbing.

"Hey," she said, softly, getting to her feet.

His head shot up. "Hey," he answered.

She came inside and saw that he was cleaning up the vomit from the previous night. Her first reaction was to grimace out of instinct. Bending down, she reached beside him for another sponge and some Resolve from the pile of cleaning supplies he had next to him.

He looked up again as she began heading toward the bedroom. "Liv, you don't have to…." Elliot trailed off and shrugged, returning his attention to his task.

They worked silently for a half-hour until the bedroom was spotless. The tub was lying in the same spot, and Olivia reached for it.

"Don't!" The sharp bark made her jump back in surprise. Whipping her head around, she saw Elliot stride out of the bathroom, dropping the supplies he held in his hand. "Don't touch it."

Astonished, she backed away. He dropped to his knees and shoved the papers inside hastily, slamming the lid on top and pushing the tub under the bed.

His tense expression put her on alert. "Elliot, what is that?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing!" he snapped quickly. He got to his feet quickly and strode toward the bedroom door. "Olivia, thank you for last night….but you need to go now."

"Elliot," she said, standing as well. "Look…I know you want to pretend this never happened. But you can't. You have to face it."

His hand punched the wall, making the pictures rattle. She jumped in surprise, but refused to let him intimidate her. "I know you're scared…Elliot, you have to let me help you."

"Scared?" he yelled. He turned to face her, his eyes flashing. "Scared?" She flinched as he strode up to her again. "Let me tell you something, Olivia. I'm not scared!"

As he bore holes into her unwavering gaze, she could see his lip starting to tremble. "I'm not scared!" he shouted again, his voice rising to an almost hysterical level. He gripped her shoulders and shook her. "I'm not scared!"

Though her heart was in her throat, Olivia remained still. She had faith that her partner wouldn't hurt her. She watched as the lightning in his eyes faded away and turned to horror as if he was seeing her for the first time. His hands flew away from her as if she had burned him.

Elliot backed slowly away from her, his expression panicked. His eyes went wide. "I'm terrified." His words came out in a whisper, and she watched him start to shake. She began walking toward him, her expression pained.

He collapsed to the floor before she reached him. "Sweetheart," she soothed, wrapping her arms around him. "Elliot, you've been keeping this inside for so long…you have to let yourself grieve."

She hugged him tight, running her fingers through his hair. He sobbed so hard that he couldn't breathe.

"Calm down," she said urgently, hearing him gasp for air. "Elliot, you have to calm down….take a breath."

He sobbed in a breath pathetically. "I told her I hated her," he whispered. "One time I got so mad that said I never wanted to see her again." His eyes squeezed shut. "I didn't mean it….please God! I didn't mean it!"

"Baby, she knew you didn't mean it," she said tearfully. She prodded him to look at her. When he didn't, she cupped his face. "Elliot…look at me."

His teary eyes rose to meet hers. Her face softened as she stroked his cheeks. "Your mother loved you, Elliot. She knew how much you loved her."

He shook his head. "She deserved the whole world, Olivia," he choked. "She was the kindest person God ever created…she didn't deserve the life she had. She deserved a bed of roses and a husband who treated her like the queen she was…she was barely an adult when she became a mother."

His face crumbled again, breaking her heart. "Don't you get it?" he said hysterically. "If I hadn't been born, this wouldn't have ever happened! She'd still be alive if it wasn't for me!" His shoulders shook as he dropped his face to his chest in defeat. "I killed her….I killed her."

She was so appalled at his words that she couldn't make her mouth connect with her brain enough to speak.

"I couldn't even give her the burial she deserved," he continued in a harsh whisper. "The funeral home considered her part of the 'charity plot'." He scoffed in anger. "They just stuck her under a tiny, cheap piece of wood and painted her initials on it."

Olivia was still speechless, and just continued to offer her support through her contact. He gave a heavy sigh and scrubbed at his eyes, pushing gently away from her.

"Elliot," she said softly, watching him get to his feet again. "What's in that tub?"

"Her death," he said shortly. "Crime scene photos, my statement, forensic evidence….I stole all of it from the cold case files shortly after I became a cop." He glared at her. "You want to rat me out? Go ahead. I don't care anymore."

But he was lying. She knew it. He did care. He cared so much that he had gone through the trouble of hiding it away for almost thirty years and putting a false label on it so that nobody would know.

So many things were making sense to her now, things that before she had just thought were weird quirks of his. He had been calling her "Liv" since the beginning of their partnership; she had called him "El" once early on and he had gotten very angry, asking her never to call him that again. At the time, she thought he was just offended. Now she knew why.

Her face suddenly flushed as she recalled her thoughts earlier that week about his compulsion to brush his teeth. Rape victims tended to get extremely hypersensitive about cleaning themselves, even years after an attack. She knew from personal experience…she had always wondered why her mother took so many showers every day. Was it possible that he still lived with the daily nightmare of his childhood rapes?

"Elliot," she said softly, biting her lip. "You said you never told anyone about this…does that mean that Kathy doesn't know?"

He sighed and scrubbed a hand wearily over his eyes. "Yeah," he answered tiredly. "I told her my dad died in the Vietnam War and my mom died of a stroke…she'd always ask to see pictures of me as a kid. I'd always tell her they were in the attic and I'd have to find them later."

His voice became distant and soft. "I never mentioned them to my kids at all…after a while they gave up asking me about their grandparents on my side, because I always changed the subject."

"But you told me." The amazement in her soft tone was evident.

He looked at her, his eyes bright. "You're my best friend," he whispered, his voice breaking.

Her heart swelled with emotion. Brushing the tears from her face, she stood up as well and went over to him. Standing before him, she reached down and linked both of his hands tightly in hers.

"I think we should go through the box together," she said softly.

His eyes immediately welled up and he shook his head. "No," he said gruffly. He tried to jerk his hands away, but she held tight. "No, Liv…please. It's going back to storage and it's not coming out again."

"Elliot," she said. "Does your mother deserve peace?"

He pinned her with a hard, shocked stare. "How the hell can you….of course she does, Olivia!" He wrenched his hands free roughly and looked angrily at her.

Her expression remained calm. "She won't have peace until you let her rest, Elliot," she said quietly. "Keeping this stuff will be your way of keeping her from having it…she wouldn't want you to remember her this way."

He sobbed suddenly, burying his face in his hands. Olivia cradled his face again tenderly. "Let me in," she begged. "Please…..you deserve to have peace, too."

"Why?" he sobbed. "Why, Olivia? Why do I deserve peace? I failed her….I failed her!" His body heaved. "She thought I was the fucking world….she sacrificed her life for me, and for what? To see me fucking up everything...I don't want her to see the man I am now. She doesn't deserve it!"

She held his face firmly. "The only way you are failing her is by blaming yourself for all these years, Elliot," she said. "The man you are now would still be her world."

"How do you know?" he asked bitterly, not meeting her eyes.

She pressed her forehead to his, making his eyes shoot to hers in surprise. "Because," she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. "You are… the best person that I've ever known."

He looked at her, tears spilling out of his eyes, and could see the love reflecting in her eyes.

She gripped his hands gently again, and he didn't resist. "Let's go through the box, Elliot," she whispered. "Come on…we'll do it together."

He sniffled wetly and slowly nodded. "Alright," he whispered hoarsely. He looked toward the bed with apprehension in his eyes. "Together."