Chapter 18
Olivia climbed the steps wearily, allowing her shoulders to fall forward slightly. "Why are you following me?" Her words ripped through the evening breeze, full of hurt, full of accusation.
The footsteps behind her froze instantly. Her lips turned up in satisfaction. Then as she knew they would, the steps quickened, closing the space between them in an instant. "I wasn't following you."
Olivia turned around slowly, planting her feet firmly on the ground. "Don't give me that, El. You've been following me for the last 20 minutes."
He hung his head slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…I just…I didn't know what to say."
"Fine, if you've got something to say to me, then let's hear it." She glared back at him, forcing her words to stay even, emotionless. He stared back at her blankly. She nodded. "That's what I thought." She whipped around, allowing each and every stride to carry her further away from him. She didn't stop until she reached the safety of the crib. She slid into the darkened room, eager for the reprieve the blackness provided. There was no one here to judge her, no emotions needing to be masked. In the darkness, she could escape from it all.
"Liv?" There was a soft knock at the door. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the silence to hide her presence. She heard him nudge the door open, heard him draw in a shaky breath. She could sense his eyes scanning the room. Then she heard the hesitation in his step, an uncertainty she didn't recognize. Slowly, she drew her eyes up, searching for his in the darkened room. The moonlight filtered in through the window, filling the room with a soft light. When she turned back around, he was at her side, sliding down beside her.
He handed her one of the coffee cups in his hand, a peace offering instantly understood without a word. The corners of her lips turned up in the faintest hint of a smile. She turned away quickly before he could read the expression on her face, lacing her fingers around the cup. "You have got to be kidding me."
"Liv…" Elliot drew in a quick breath. "I'm sorry. I had no right to do what I did, and you have every reason to be angry with me."
In the middle of an argument, Elliot Stabler was a lot of things--aggressive, arrogant, stubborn as all hell, but apologetic? Olivia fought to maintain her grip on the anger even as it silently melted away. Their partnership had long since become about finding that balance between too much fighting and not enough. It was a form of communication witnessed by all, but understood by none. Arguments came to end in a silence that begged of the other to understand what both were too proud to admit. Conversations became a hypothetical about what neither of them were willing to acknowledge. And somehow through every heated word, they understood what no civil conversation could ever communicate.
Behind arguments they were safe from the truth because admitting the truth meant admitting they were vulnerable--admitting the truth meant acknowledging the fact that what they did and what they saw affected them. It was easier to rely on false pretenses--easier to pretend that nothing had changed through the years than to try to decipher at what point the light-hearted banter that once propelled them through a case had dissipated, leaving behind a dull acceptance that every phone call could somehow manage to erode another tiny piece of themselves. Hidden behind the harsh and vindictive words was an acceptance that no matter what they had witnessed through the years, each new case brought them no closer to understanding.
Olivia averted her eyes away from him. "You're damn right I have every reason to be angry. Elliot, you drugged me."
"I know." Elliot tore his eyes away from her burning gaze. "I know," he repeated softly. "And I had no right to make that decision for you, but Olivia, you've got to know that I never meant to hurt you."
She heard the desperation behind his words, a silent pleading that went beyond the scope of the immediate conversation. She nodded quietly, allowing the simple words that flowed from her lips to communicate the rest. "I know."
He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until he felt it draining from his body. "So are we okay?" She shifted slightly, drawing herself up to her feet. Her footsteps were light as she slipped through the door to the locker room. Shit. What had he said now? He furrowed his brow, uncertain whether to let her go or follow her. But Elliot Stabler was never one to avoid a confrontation. He crossed the room tentatively, not quite sure what to expect on the other side of the doorway.
"Liv," he ventured softly. He stopped at her side, watching with amusement as with a flick of her wrist she turned the cup over, allowing the last of the liquid to swirl down the drain. "You know I got that just for you."
She arched her eyebrows, a knowing smile spreading over her face. "I know." She reached for the cup in his hand, drawing it up to her lips before he could protest. "Guess you need another one now."
The liquid swirled down the drain, washing away the final traces of a guilt that he knew could never truly be erased. Cragen squeezed his eyes shut to block out the image, fighting back an impulse that was suddenly all too real. Instead, he flipped open his phone, finally allowing himself to read the message displayed on its tiny screen.
4 Missed Calls
Cragen scrolled through all of them. Each and every one of them was from Fin. He closed his eyes, not quite sure if he was ready for the truth behind them. Before he could debate it further, his phone chirped at him again.
1 New Message
Fin again. Cragen pushed a single button to pull the text message up on the screen. It was now or never. He couldn't keep avoiding the truth.
Cap, break in the case. Check out the scrap book on your desk.
He wasn't sure if it was curiosity or just pure exhaustion that finally won out, but he found himself re-tracing the steps back to his office. The squad room was abandoned which meant one of two things--either Munch and Fin were chasing down this new lead…or it had been too much for them to digest, and they had given up for the night. He wasn't sure at what point he had stopped knowing the answer. And he sure as hell didn't know which would be easier to handle. As much as he wanted to close the case, the part of him that was still stuck in a bathroom stall with his trembling fingers around a bottle of vodka didn't know if he had the strength to handle the truth. He wasn't sure he had the strength to handle being so close to the man who had somehow managed to tear their world apart…at least not without losing everything he had left.
Cragen reached down to pick up the scrapbook on his desk. One hand reached for the switch on the lamp perched at the edge of his desk while the other flipped open the front cover. The image that stared back at him was one that was eerily familiar. It was one that had come across his desk more than a decade earlier accompanied by a resume and file for a detective by the name of Elliot Stabler.
Don, we think he'd be a great match for this unit, but we also need to let you know about the history…
It was something he hadn't thought about in years. It was something he had shrugged away at the time, never considering he'd have any need to think of it ever again.
I appreciate the warning, Chief, but I'm not going to judge him by something he had no control over. I'm sure as hell nothing like my father.
And now, it was something he'd never be able to forget again.
"What do you mean the blood report was contaminated?"
Munch flinched at her response. "I'm sorry, Casey. Warner said there was a mix-up at the lab while she was out. The technician processing it screwed up."
"So is it or is it not Olivia's blood in the van?" Casey demanded.
"It is, but Warner can't testify to the fact without reasonable doubt," Munch admitted reluctantly.
"Oh, this is great. Without that blood, we don't have a case."
Fin glared back at Casey, his eyes cold. "What do you mean we don't have a case? He drugged her."
"Look guys, I'm sorry," she sighed in return. "It's not that I don't believe you, but you're going to have a hard time proving that Bradley or Garrett or whatever the hell his name is drugged Olivia."
"What do you mean by that?" Munch ventured cautiously.
"The GHB was on her jacket. It doesn't prove that she ever ingested it. And even if it did, there's absolutely nothing to link him to the drugs."
Fin's head snapped up. "Sure there is. He's the one supplying the drinks. How else do you think she ingested it?"
"You can't prove that he's the one supplying the drinks. And it doesn't matter how I think she ingested it. What matters is what the jury thinks. And the defense can parade five witnesses in here that will all testify to the fact that Olivia was seriously intoxicated, and not one that can testify to the fact that she was drugged."
"There's got to be something you can do?" Munch pleaded with her.
"I can't even prove that Olivia didn't take the drugs voluntarily," Casey admitted reluctantly.
"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. There's no way that Liv would voluntarily take a date rape drug," Fin interrupted, his words grim.
Casey sighed, nodding her head in agreement. "Yes, I know that. You know that. But we can't rely on a jury to make that distinction."
"What about the book we found in his apartment?" Fin snapped.
Casey shrugged. "Circumstantial."
"What do you mean--circumstantial? Casey, that book is like a manual on how to make GHB," Munch agued.
Casey averted her eyes away from both of them. "And I've been to Olivia's place, and I guarantee that she has a book that contains that same information. If you follow your line of reasoning, you can say that Olivia drugged herself."
"You've got to be kidding me." Fin paced back and forth nervously. "Casey, you know that's not true."
Munch shot a look at his partner and tried to reason with her. "Okay, so if you can't do anything with the GHB book, what about the scrapbook?"
Casey looked up at them slowly. "It's one hell of a motive, but it doesn't give us any concrete evidence. If Jamison is who you say he is, his defense attorney can just argue that it's a part of his past too. Hell, Elliot could have the same collection of articles in his possession."
Fin stopped pacing. "Casey, you didn't see this book. It's not just a collection of articles and trial transcripts--it's a goddamn shrine."
Casey let her eyes fall to the ground. "And normally that would be enough, but this is no ordinary case, and I'm not about to let some judge throw the entire case out because some million dollar an hour defense attorney challenges our findings. Now, I'm sorry, but I need something more."
Olivia stared straight in front of her. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, contemplative. "You know I always thought that I understood what a victim was going through. I always thought a part of me knew what it felt like."
Elliot turned to look at her. "And now you realize that you never did?" He sighed. "Yeah, I know."
"No." Olivia shook her head. "Now I realize that I never will."
Elliot furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Olivia spun the cup in her hand. "Elliot, I know what I felt like in that moment, but I can never compare that to what somebody else feels. I can't say that what I went through was any better or worse than what any other victim I've ever met experienced. The truth is--it was just different. It always hurts, but what I feel and what somebody else feels is never going to be the same."
"Liv, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."
"El, you may not have been there, but you were what kept me going."
Elliot turned toward her, his eyes searching hers. "What do you mean?"
"El, I don't have anyone else in my life. I've been alone for as long as I can remember, and that's okay. But in that moment, I needed to hold onto something. I needed to hold onto someone."
"Olivia, if it weren't for me, you would have never been attacked in the first place."
Olivia tilted her head up, needing some sort of confirmation. "He wasn't after me, was he? He wanted to hurt you."
Elliot's head snapped up sharply. "Liv, how did you know that?"
"I'm a cop, Elliot. It's what I do." She sighed. "But El, that still doesn't make what happened your fault. If you blame yourself you're just taking it off of the perp, and that's exactly what he wants."
"I know," Elliot agreed softly. "It's working."
"Then don't let it." Olivia stood up, stretching her legs. "Elliot, don't let him win. Don't let him control you."
Elliot pulled himself up to a standing position. He reached for the cup of coffee in her hand, and frowned seeing it was empty. "How the hell did you get to be so smart?"
She grinned back at him, tucking a tiny piece of paper inside the cup. He unwrapped it carefully, reading the words printed on the paper.
The human spirit is stronger than anything that can ever happen to it.
"A damn fortune cookie, El."