It was 2 am in the morning and Olivia was sleeping peacefully in her own bed for what seemed like the first time that week, when the sharp sound of the phone ringing awoke her from her slumber.
"Benson!" she angrily answered.
"Hey Liv, it's Elliot. Cap just called. He wants us down at St. Mary's to interview a vic. I'm already on my way, so I'll pick you up," Elliot said sleepily.
"Okay, see ya then," Olivia said as she tried to stifle a yawn she knew was ineffable. She hung up the phone, drew back the covers, and flew her feet over the side of the bed, so they were dangling. After sitting in that position for what seemed like hours, she finally slid off the bed, lightly touching her feet to the floor.
Like a robot, she mechanically got dressed, brushed her teeth and her hair, and sat herself on her couch to wait for Elliot. After 5 minutes, he arrived and she buzzed him up.
"Mornin' sunshine," he said sarcastically. She rolled her eyes as she shut her door behind her.
They had arrived at the hospital to interview Sarah Wheeler. She was 25 years old and lived alone in her little, one person apartment. A man had broken into her home and raped her, like so many other horrific tails Olivia had learned of over her past 8 years at SVU. The young women was halfway through her story, and was describing the rape.
Elliot was sitting in a chair across from Olivia and Sarah and had noticed Olivia was deeply upset, but said nothing. Her eyes were replete with tears. There has to be something wrong. Sure, Olivia gets emotional on cases, but she hasn't looked like she's going to cry when she's interviewing a victim since her 1st year at SVU, he thought. He decided he was going to confront her about it after they finished interviewing Sarah.
They were finally finished taking Sarah's statement, but they still had many grueling hours ahead of them before they could retire for the night. Olivia peered out the window as they drove to the precinct, glancing at the people on the sidewalks. The people of New York had sorrow and desperation written across their faces, except for the small girl who had her hand enclosed around her mother's. She was swinging their interlocked hands back and forth, looking so free and innocent, qualities that most likely diminished on the brink of adulthood.
The car was filled with silence as Elliot debated on whether or not he should confront her at this time. He knew this was the opportune moment because she seemed peaceful and undistracted. He decided to go for it.
He cleared his throat. "Hey Liv, you okay? I mean, you seem kind of…off today," he said hesitantly.
"Everyone has off days Elliot," she said, her voice seeping with irritation. She did NOT feel like talking.
"Okay, wrong choice of words. You've just been a little…distracted and distant lately, that's all, and I just want to make sure everything is okay," he said softly so as to not make her angry.
"Elliot, don't talk to me about being distant. Who was the one who distanced himself from everyone for 2 years? Who-"
"Liv, this isn't about me," he interrupted. "Don't try and pull that crap on me. I'm concerned about you and I know something is going on. Talk to me."
She thought for a moment. This is ridiculous. It's been three days. You need to tell someone. You're thinking like a vic and not a detective. Tell Elliot, he won't judge you.
Elliot knew she was thinking about what to say to him. After a few minutes, she took a deep breath and uttered quietly, as if she didn't want him to hear, "I was raped."