Chapter 3

I've stopped functioning. I don't know why, but all of a sudden, I can't breathe. My chest is weighted with the heaviness of my pain, and once again I find myself wishing for the end. I'm confused. Usually, I am able to get past it, if even for a couple of hours. But today, I am gone. Lost. No air reaches my lungs, no colors reach my eyes, and I am simply… empty. I sit at my desk at the precinct for what seems like hours. Elliot puts a hand gingerly on my back from behind, and I flinch violently at the gentle touch he gives me. By now, even the slightest touch hurts like a gunshot wound through my entire body.

"Sorry!" he cries, clearly surprised by my actions. "I didn't know you were so jumpy!"

"I'm fine," I retort nervously. I regain my composure as quickly as I can before he notices. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to know if you wanted to go for some coffee," he replies, a bit flustered by the angry glint in my eyes that I know he sees. Damn me. "But if you're busy that's fine too."

I think on it for a minute. For the past few days, I have been in so much pain, just by even breathing. And even as I sit here now, I know that even though it will hurt like crazy, if I don't go with Elliot he will definitely know something is up. Then he would try to interfere, because that would be a very Elliot thing to do. And I don't want that… right?

"Sure," I reply hesitantly, faking a smile that I hope looks like a real one.

"I'll go get the car," he smiles, pleased that I have accepted his offer. I've got him. "Come down when you're ready."

My mind is racing as he leaves. Not that I know what for. I can't focus on anything at this point. I try to figure out what I'm going to do, but nothing comes to me accept a giant headache and a sick feeling in my stomach. So, I give up on that, I muster up all of the energy I can, and simply get up from my desk and walk away. But in the process, I come to a realizeation: my life is falling apart around me. My will power is crumbling, my mind is melting, and I'm losing all control I used to have. I look down at my hands, as if expecting them to crumble along with my sanity.

You're going crazy, and it's all your fault.

I am shocked by this new development. I have never been one to hear voices- the crazy pedophiles we see every day hear voices. Schizophrenics hear voices. Hysterical people in hospitals on morphine hear voices. Detective Olivia Benson does NOT hear voices... except maybe the ones planted inside her own head.

You're not going to make it, you know. You're weak. Always have been, always will be.

Shut up, I find myself retorting. You don't know anything.

Oh, look at you! Having a conversation with yourself. Congratulations, you have just reached a new level of-

I don't need to hear it from you.

But you're hearing it from youself. Since, of course, I am you...

I'm confused.

And crazy.

SHUT UP!

Before I know it I'm sprinting down to the car, through the pouring rain. I don't want to hear it. I jump in and slam the door behind me, my hair dripping and my eyes refusing to make contact with my partner's concerned gaze.

"Do you... wanna talk about it?" he asks hesitantly.

"Drive," I order through clenched teeth.

My head is pounding, and it hurts badly. I just need to get away. He nods and begins to pull the car out.

You're such a child. He wants to help you, and you're pushing him away.

I don't want to drag him down.

But you're doing so anyway. Face it, Benson, you're no good for anyone. You can't win.

I hate to admit it, but it's true.

Come with me. I can stop the pain.

I blink. What? The voice has gone from ridiculing me to offering help within moments.

I can. I promise.

I am crazy.

Yes, you are. All the more reason to let go.

I can't.

You can.

I...

Just let go, Olivia.

No. I'm tired. Leave me be.

I'll be waiting.

I hear no more.

"Olivia," Elliot says, not taking his eyes from the road, "you have that look in your eye."

I can't reply. I simply can't. It's not physically possible.

He pulls up to a coffee shop, and he gets out. I hesitate, but get out too. We pick a table near the back, and order some coffee. When it finally arrives, it feels like hours later. I take a hesitant sip and drop my gaze to my drink when I realize Elliot is looking at me intently.

"Liv," he says. "You can't fight this on your own."

"Fight what?" I rasp, my voice hoarse from not speaking for a while.

"This," he repeats. "What you're going through."

"And how do you know what I'm going through?" I snap.

Elliot looks at me uncertainly.

"I... took some online quizzes..." he replies, blushing slightly. "They all came back positive. Just, tell me, Olivia; how long has this been happening?

Don't even get me started.

I'm hesitant to reply to his question. To answer him, is to confess to my ailing mind. To answer, is to let my long-held secret escape. To confess.. is to make it real. But then, if I remain silent, I push him father away. I outright reject him. And I would rather die before I did that.

You may end up doing that.

I thought you left.

"Elliot," I tell him, staring at my hands, blankly "I... I just don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he tells me quickly, a hint of hope glimmering in his eyes. He thinks he can get me to talk. He takes my hand in his and looks into my eyes. "Olivia, I only want what's best for you. And to see you in pain... I just can't have that."

"I'm so sorry, Elliot," I tell him. My wrists are throbbing. It's time. I've waited long enough.

I'm so sorry.

"I have to use the bathroom," I announce, shooting up and walking swiftly to the bathroom before he can object.

I slam the door behind me, my sorrow quickly turned to rage. I pull out the blade from my wallet quickly and stare at it, my venomous gaze reflecting back at me.

Why must you be like this? You are weak! Pathetic! You need to be punished!

I bring the blade down to my wrists. The cutting edge is dangerously close to my purple-blue veins. And yet, I don't care. It fazes me no longer.

Do it. I dare you.

"NOOO!"

Before I can regain myself, I am slammed into the bathroom's tile wall by a bulky force. The blade drops from my hand, and I cry out.

"Let me go!" I cry, and he gets off of me.

He picks up the blade and stares at me.

"Olivia!" he scolds. "I can't believe you! Lying openly to my face, and then sneaking behind my back to KILL YOURSELF? I know you better than that!"

"Shut up, Elliot!" I scream, my voice straining and releasing the pain I have been feeling for a long time. "You don't know anything! ANYTHING! I have been to Hell and back, and you have the nerve to act like I'm some sort of monster! No, El, I take that back. I'M. STILL. IN. HELL. And don't even try to sympathize, okay? You're going to say you understand, but you don't! You'll never understand! You don't know what it's like, Elliot, until you experience it yourself."

I'm done with my tirade. I sink to my knees, drained of energy. I am empty again. There is no rage. No mocking shadow. No blood. Only me, and my tears. I can feel Elliot's gaze burning into my skull. He is unsure of what to say. So he says nothing. And I am grateful for his silence.

We stay like that for a while. He stands over me, and I remain on my knees, weeping. The gears turn in his head as he tries to find the right words to say to me.

"Liv," he finally musters. "I'm... I'm so sorry."

He finally kneels down next to me and takes me into his arms, into a tight hug. His breath is hot against my face, and I curl up into his shoulder. I am comforted by his warmth, and then, suddenly, like a blanket being take off, I am released. My tears stop, and I sit with him for hours. His warmth comforting me; his presence all I need to move on.

"Thank you," I murmur.

"For what?" he asks, surprised my my new calm energy.

I smile at him thankfully.

"For being my partner."

Notes: Sorry for the long wait! I've been busy. :P Please review, por favor! It makes me happy inside, and inspires me to write faster. :) Gracias!