There's this line from a book Maureen really likes that says, "Never till this moment, in my home, beside my dear wife, have I felt so strongly that there might be a God, and he might be good."
Well, there are obvious differences between that quote and my relationship with Olivia, but I still think of her whenever I see it. She is not my wife, at least not yet. Basically, replace the words "might be" with "is", and it's perfect. I know God brought Olivia into my life to save me from myself. She's everything I need and everything I want. It's too perfect not to be the result of divine intervention.
I loved Olivia from the beginning of our partnership. There was an immediate sense of trust and safety, and I knew I could tell her anything and she would understand. I've never gotten so close to someone so fast in my entire life. It took me years of knowing Kathy before I told her certain things about me, and I still have secrets from her.
After only a year of knowing Olivia, we had no secrets. We knew absolutely everything about each other.
I will never forget the day Olivia told me about her history. We were sitting by a pond in Central Park after a long day at work. We were both exhausted but neither of us wanted to go home. Olivia didn't want to go because there wasn't anyone waiting for her, and I didn't want to go because there were people waiting for me. I didn't want to talk about the case but I didn't think I could talk about anything so meaningless as the weekend or movies.
Anyway, Olivia and I were watching the sun set and we ended up on the subject of her childhood. She looked at me for almost a minute, studying me, but I wasn't uncomfortable. I was just waiting.
Finally she said, "I've never really told anyone this, Elliot."
I nodded, unsure of what to say, but I said, "You can tell me anything."
"I know," she said, and she took a deep breath.
Well, she did tell me everything. She talked for well over an hour; the sun had long since disappeared by the time she finished. She told me about her father and what he did, her mother and how she responded. I could not stop tears from forming when she described all the abuse her mother inflicted on her, all the times she beat her and left her without food and shelter.
She described herself as a teenager, telling me about the many older boyfriends she had just to get out of the house, her brief engagement when she was sixteen…everything. My heart ached for her, and I was concerned about how the cases we dealt with would affect her. I mean, some of the child abuse victims might as well have been named Olivia Benson for all the similarities to what she endured.
After she finished, I didn't know what to say so I just took her hand in mine and I kissed it. She looked at me, completely surprised but not upset. She smiled and understanding passed between us. We both knew we were in love. But I was married.
I don't know how we managed to stay strong. I was tempted every day to cheat on my wife, to act on my love for Olivia, but I never did. We weren't completely innocent…I admit we were more than innocently physical at times, but it never progressed very far. I wouldn't let it but, more amazingly, she wouldn't let it. Olivia always put my family first.
We've had our problems. We fight. A lot. It's impossible not to in this job. Olivia always sides with the victim and takes it personally if any of us doubt his or her account. She sees her mother in every vic, and the idea that anyone would lie about being raped is too much for her to handle. She's yelled at me a fair number of times, asking me whose side I'm on.
I'm on her side. Always hers.
If I'd left her alone all the times she's told me to get out of her life, our relationship would have been a very short one. It always hurts when she gets that angry at me and rejects me, but I never doubt that she loves me. She's picked up the broken pieces of my composure and sanity enough times that I know she'll never leave me, and she knows it too. We're in this for the long haul, and nothing can change that.
The first time we made love was incredible. I love Olivia for so many reasons other than her beauty, but anyone with eyes can see that she is drop-dead gorgeous. I wanted it more than anything, but I was also nervous as hell. I only ever had sex with Kathy, and Olivia…well, she lived a little more than me. That was sort of hard to accept. Every time I found out that she had slept with her new boyfriend, a piece of my heart broke off. When I asked her about sleeping with Cassidy, we both knew I had personal interest in the whole matter.
I'm not at all condemning her for not waiting for me; I mean, hell, I was having sex with Kathy even though I loved Olivia. I just worried about her. I wanted her boyfriends to treat her right, and I didn't want them to hurt her. Olivia's been hurt too much. I knew she could take care of herself, but I could never stop worrying.
When we made love, I told her how amazing it was and she said it had never been better for her either because it wasn't just meaningless sex; it was a real connection. I could have stayed there, my arms wrapped around her, for the rest of my life but, unfortunately, we had to go to work.
I'm always scared for Olivia. I'm concerned about her physical safety, obviously, but I also worry about her when it comes to cases. She's so strong…too strong. She got used to keeping all of her pain to herself; she had about thirty years of practice when no one really gave a damn. Sometimes I can hardly bear to look into her eyes because I can see the hurt so clearly etched there, all the scars that remain hidden to most of the world.
I just want to protect her. I want to shield her from the world and transfer all her pain to me, but I know I can't. She wouldn't let me even if I could, because she wouldn't want me to deal with all the pain either. We both selfishly, lovingly, want the other's every ache with no thought of what it would do to us.
"Greater love has no man than this, that he would lay down his life for his friends." I'd lay down my happiness for Olivia, I'd give her anything and everything I could, I'd meld my broken body and soul with hers, I'd sacrifice my life without a question. How could I not believe in God when I have this miracle in my arms?