Okay, I promise this is my last un-SVU chapter, at least for awhile. I promise this case and this story will go somewhere with the next chapter, but it wouldn't feel complete without this part!

Olivia

Monday, December 25

Christmas day made for the worst day of the year.

I didn't do anything special when I was a kid. Sometimes my mom would remember to stuff my stocking, others she wouldn't. But regardless of what was happening between us, as an adult I had still spent every Christmas with her, having nowhere else to go. In the beginning, before Elliot and I got close, Kathy would urge him to invite me. I knew it was a pity invitation, and I never accepted. The second Christmas after my mom had died, Alex and I had spent the day together, her being unable to fly home for some reason that I was never quite clear on. No relationship had ever led to anything serious enough for me to go home with him for Christmas.

What really bothered me was that I knew that Munch, Fin, and Cragen were all going through the same thing. Munch wasn't on good enough terms with any of his ex-wives, and had no interest is spending Christmas with his brother. Although Fin had made some progress in his relationship with his son, Ken was going away with his boyfriend. And Cragen was probably at home trying not to drink the bottle of vodka that he undoubtedly kept on hand for such occasions. He still missed his wife more than I thought was possible. He steadily increased the time he spent in the office around Christmas, sometimes spending two or three days there without going home. He would work Christmas Day if he could. I knew he kept himself on the on-call list, as did I, but no one ever reported a rape on Christmas.

I knew Elliot was spending the morning and afternoon with Kathy and his kids, but for the first time, they were going to her mother's for dinner without him. He had been unclear on what he was going to do. He had mentioned something about going to his sister's for dinner.

I knew that every one of them would be sitting alone today. And yet somehow we were all too stubborn and too set in our ways to spend the time together. Somehow, the concept of spending Christmas with them felt more depressing than spending Christmas alone. It was much easier to pretend that we had spend a nice day doing what we wanted to, and we were happy alone.

I sighed. Ten o'clock in the morning and I was already done with Christmas.

I found myself trying to bake over the next several hours. After setting off my smoke detectors seven times (twice the smoke detectors on the entire floor), I figured it was time to quit. I looked at the clock. Elliot's kids would just be leaving. I sighed, then picked up my keys and headed out the door.

She didn't say anything when she opened the door. I didn't blame her. It probably wasn't right for me to be here. It didn't feel right for me to not be here either.

"I thought you might be able to use some company," I explained.

For the first time, instead of a protest, instead of insisting that she was fine, her resolve crumbled and she stepped aside to let me in.

"You must have someplace better to be today," Christine said softly, taking a seat on the sofa.

"How are you doing?" I asked, taking a seat across from her. Her dog, who had grown considerably in the past two weeks, came bounding towards me with his tail wagging.

"I'm fine," she said automatically. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thanks. You didn't have anywhere to go?"

She shrugged and brought one knee up to her chest. For the first time I noticed just in jeans and a t-shirt, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, no make-up, no facade, she looked like a teenager. "People aren't so crazy about non-family members at Christmas." She got up to pour herself a drink, her dog following her into the kitchen. She came back out with two mugs of coffee. "I order Chinese and watch bad movies."

"I can let you get back to that, if you want."

"Actually, I don't mind having someone around." She didn't look up, she didn't change the tone in her voice, but I felt an odd sense of accomplishment. Like I had finally done something right in her case. "You don't have anywhere else to be?"

I shrugged as nonchalantly as she had. "Like you said, people aren't so crazy about non-family members at Christmas."

"What about your partner?" she asked, taking a sip of her coffee and wrapping her hands around the mug.

I nearly choked on my own coffee. "What do you mean?"

She smiled slightly. I took this as another good sign. "I didn't mean to imply anything. It just seems that you two are very close."

"We are. But he's actually spending Christmas with his kids." I put down my mug and leaned forward. "Are you really doing okay?"

She shrugged. "I've been fine on my own the past year and a half. I don't know why it should be any different now."

"Have you talked to anyone?"

She shook her head and shivered. "I don't want to. I don't want other people to know."

"What about Rick?" I asked, referring to the friend that had brought her into the hospital the first time.

She shook her head. "He only knew because he was the one who found me. Besides, I haven't talked to him in weeks."

"Why not?"

She shrugged again. "I know you guys questioned him."

"So?"

"So he was put through the ringer just for helping me out. I'm not going to put him through that again."

"We were wrong. He really does seem to care about you."

"That's another reason," she said softly.

"What? That he cares about you?"

"I can't handle that. Not now."

"Christine, can I asked you something?"

"Sure," she said, putting down her own mug.

"I understand that you don't want other people to know. I know that what happened to you was something private, and it's no one's business, but what's the worst that could happen if you walked to someone?"

She took a deep breath. "Do you have any idea what it's like for a woman to try and get into politics? I spend my time trying to work twice as hard as any male so that I can appear almost as good as them. I've been asked seven times if I slept with Senator Martin to get my internship. They have all these rules about women and minorities, and how many there need to be, so politicians are cutting corners by getting minority women so they can fill both quotas with only one person. I've worked damn hard to be respected by my peers and by those in the political arena, and if they were ever to find out about this, none of that would matter. I would be the girl who was raped. I would be their poster girl. They would speak out and use my name, because they could. I wouldn't be a person any more, I would just be a pet cause for a little while, and then I would be done."

It made sense to me. I had spent years trying to find the balance between talking about my mom and keeping it inside until I lost it. And it wasn't so much that I cared that people knew, it was the poor you look that they would get when they looked at me. But it had taken me years, a childhood with an alcoholic mother, a broken engagement, and years on the job before I became that cynical or jaded. When I was in university, I didn't lock myself in and do homework, I still went out and partied, I was still a teenager.

"Have you always been like this?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"All work, no play?"

She looked down at her jeans to pick at a string coming loose on her jeans. "I was supposed to be with them."

"With who?"

"My parents. I was supposed to go to Barbados with them when they were in the accident. But I had just started dating this guy- I wanted to have the house to myself, I wanted to party, I wanted to do all the things that I would never have done with them around. So I stayed home."

"Is that the other reason that you won't talk to Rick?"

"Yeah," she admitted softly.

"I understand the feeling that you need to punish yourself. Believe me, I do-"

"How?" she asked, looking up. She didn't sound rude, or confrontational, but almost desperate.

"When my mom was in grad school, she was raped. She got pregnant, and she had me. So I spent a good part of my life feeling like I should be punished for what my father did to her."

"How did you stop?"

I didn't, I thought, a sense of clarity finally washing over me. "What happened wasn't my fault. And nothing that's happened is yours. You don't have to punish yourself forever, Christine."

And maybe, just maybe, neither did I.

Christine

After Detective Benson left, I sat on the sofa with my phone for fifteen minutes, just staring at it, psyching myself up. Mushu was curious about what I had that fascinated me so much, so he tried to bite it three times. Finally, I worked up the nerve to dial the number. One ring. Two. Three. Four. Voicemail.

"Hi, Rick. It's me. I- um, I'm sorry I missed your last couple of messages. I. . . I just wanted to say Merry Christmas, and I hope you're having a good time skiing. I'll talk to you soon. Bye."

Elliot

I was stupid. There was nothing to call me except stupid. Standing outside in sub-zero degree weather without gloves, pacing in the entryway to Olivia's building. Stupid. Finally, I punched in the security code she had given me years ago and walked up to her floor. I knocked on her door, fully expecting her to be inside. Somehow, I was still surprised when she opened the door.

"Elliot," she said, surprised. Her apartment smelled like something had burnt inside. "Do you want to come in?"

I didn't. I couldn't. I could just say what I had to say and get out of there. No more, no less.

"You have to understand," I finally said, "Kathy and I were together from high school. I've spent more than half my life with her. So I don't know how this type of thing works. I know I'm not playing by the rules or doing anything right here, but if you give me time, I'll figure it out."