Oh man. I was stuck on this chapter for weeks. It's shorter than some of the others, but please think of it as a filler chapter. I'm already wrapping up the next one (woohoo!)

Next one will bring on the M rating, so get ready ;)

The sound of Elliot's voice reverberated off the walls in the bar. His tone was deep and commanding now.

There was a blaze of emotions circulating through Olivia's body. She was fighting the knot in her throat that threatened to unravel the armor she spent decades tucked away in.

The reality of everything she had word vomited began to set in, and she knew they had reached the point of no return. She admitted to his face just how tragically painful his departure had been. She also admitted that during the worst time of her life, all she thought about was how she wished he had been there.

She was angry for allowing the alcohol to overpower control. She hadn't been planning to bring up Lewis, especially not tonight.

The air in the bar felt thick enough to suffocate her.

He was staring at her intently, searching her warm brown eyes with his own blue ones as if he hoped they held the answers he so desperately seeked. Something had shifted in him. It was a look she had become acquainted with early on in their partnership. His usually piercing blue eyes became shades darker, and she knew he was wagering an internal war of his own, scanning his mind for all the possibilities. Bracing himself for the blow.

It had taken what felt like an eternity to reclaim her power after Lewis. Everyone walked on eggshells, treating her like some fragile enigma that could shatter at any moment. The looks of pity and judgment enraged her and although the only person she wanted by her side in the aftermath was Elliot, she couldn't bear the notion of watching him unfurl as she recounted the details.

"Just forget it. It was nothing," she shook her head. It was a half-assed attempt to try and backtrack, she already knew where this was headed.

"Don't give me that crap, Olivia. What happened?" he ordered.

There it was. An invitation to perform the same song and dance they had rehearsed so many times before. It was their crutch to stand on when the intensity of their relationship became too much. When the realization of how deeply they cared for each other forced them to their knees. The moments where they couldn't hide from it, so they fought it. They would lash out at one another, each remark cutting deeper and pushing further than the last before eventually one of them would go too far.

But, Olivia no longer felt like giving in to the dance that had cost them so much and in return given them so little.

She'd spent so many years wondering "what if"

What if she would've told him how she felt? What if he felt the same way? What if he hadn't left?

What if he came back?

And then he did. He came back. But that only left her with more questions.

The alcohol was still surging through her system and she wished now more than ever that she had a time machine. She could go back and steer them into a conversation about anything other than the worst trauma she'd ever endured. She didn't know what the right thing to do in this situation was, but she knew that Lewis wasn't a topic she was capable of discussing in her current state.

She glanced over at him and immediately felt the stinging in her eyes as her vision blurred and tears started rolling down her cheek. The knot in her throat had finally won.

"Olivia," he whispered, and before she realized what was happening he'd made his way to the other side of the booth, snaking his arms around her and bringing her head to his chest. His scent traveled through her body like a drug and she could hear the thumping of his heartbeat. She allowed herself to be held for a few seconds, remembering all the times she longed for the possibility of being there, in his arms. The rest of the world seemed to melt away, being pressed against him made everything else feel so insignificant— like nothing bad could happen as long as she was wrapped in him.

But, the momentary relief went just as quickly as it had come. Her brain had finally caught up to her body, alerting her of all the lines that were being blurred. Her head tried to battle the threat of desire that lingered around them.

She pulled away from him and rested her elbows on the wooden table, dropping her head into her hands. Chestnut colored locks fell over her face, providing a curtain of privacy as she tried to gather herself through sniffles. Her mind was racing and there were too many thoughts firing away at once to make sense of any of them.

"Liv, please talk to me," the sound of his voice threatened to unleash another wave of tears. She bit down on her cheek and shook her head. She could smell the remnants of his cologne engrained on her skin. She needed air, she needed to breathe in anything other than her former partner.

She slid out of the table and steadied herself on the ground, cursing her choice of shoes. Standing up she realized exactly how much wine she'd had

"Olivia, where the hell are you going?," he asked, grabbing for her arm

"Elliot, please. I can't do this with you. Not tonight," she pleaded, snatching her arm back from his grasp

"You come back after ten years and ask me out for drinks like nothing happened, and it's hard. This is hard for me, Elliot."

She stood there watching him as they both absorbed her statement.

"I guess I just didn't know where to begin," his eyes met hers once more and his gaze was somber now. The playfulness and warmth they'd held earlier that evening dissipated.

"That makes two of us," she whispered back before heading towards the exit.

—

The walk home didn't do much good clearing his head. In fact, it caused his mind to spiral even more out of control. He kept replaying the last two hours over and over in his head, trying to make sense of it. Any of it.

Elliot was haunted by Olivia's revelation. He needed to understand what had happened, but she'd made clear that it wasn't something she had the capability to relive. Google seemed like a logical choice, except he'd forgotten to grab his phone when he'd left for the bar.

He tapped the small black fob hanging from his key-ring to unlock the door. He made his way into the quiet apartment and headed towards the kitchen. He retrieved a Guinness from the fridge and reached for the bottle opener that was already sitting on the counter. He took a few swigs as he walked back to the living room in search of his cell phone before spotting it on the coffee table.

He plopped himself down on the sofa that Kathleen had picked out. She'd insisted he go with that one because the company used "sustainable materials," however the price tag on it had been anything but sustainable. Still, he'd given in to appease her. After the divorce had been finalized and he moved back from Italy, Kathleen had been reaching out more. He knew it was mostly because she worried about him feeling lonely—which he didn't, but it didn't matter. He liked spending time with his kids, even when it meant dropping a small fortune on a couch.

Elliot grabbed his phone from the table, unlocking it with one hand as he brought the glass bottle to his lips with the other. He placed the beer on a Jets coaster—one of the few things his daughter hadn't picked out.

He navigated the browser on his phone and stared at the Google search bar. What was he supposed to search? And more importantly, what was he going to find?

Olivia Benson + kidnapped

He glared at the text for a moment before eventually pulling the trigger and clicking the search button.

In less than a split second hundreds of results populated

NYPD Detective Kidnapped and Tortured

SVU Cop Abducted by Serial Rapist Found Alive

Decorated Police Officer Held Hostage for Four Days

…

There were articles, news reports, videos, think pieces, conspiracy theories, the list went on and on. There was coverage on the trials that ensued, the days leading up to the abduction, and everything in between. His head was spinning and he could hear his heartbeat pounding like a drum in his ears. It was all so much worse than he had been able to imagine.

A part of him felt like he'd seen enough, but another part needed to know every detail of the hell that sick fucker put Olivia through. Maybe he was projecting, but he felt like he owed it to her.

He kept scrolling until he came across one video in particular that caught his attention

Everything We Know About the William Lewis Case

Click.

In twenty-six minutes he'd learned the details of the horror Olivia lived through. He could feel the ground crumbling beneath him. The photos of her bruised and beaten body sent a nauseating wave through him. Guilt was binding itself to every fiber of his being. He hadn't been there to protect her. He hadn't been there to protect the woman he loved.

As if by instinct, he launched the phone in his hands towards the wall where his television was hung—missing it by only a few inches.

He leaned forward on the couch and rested his head in his hands. He felt so much anger and pain imagining what it must have been like for her. How much she must've been hurting for all those years. It was no wonder she doubted if any of what they had was ever real. She must've assumed he knew about it and chose not to reach out. That's why she brought it up at the bar. But had he known, he would've been on the first flight to JFK. Still, he felt guilt for not knowing and regret for never bothering to check in on her with so much as a Google search.

He lifted his head and let out a sigh, realizing just how truthful his statement about not knowing where to begin was. Before he thought about it too much, he stood up and made his way to the front door, grabbing his keys on the way out.

Off to Olivia's house he went.