Ring.
Elliot grumbled in his sleep and rolled over.
Ring.
"Shut up."
Ring.
"Damn it, shut up!"
He really couldn't stand the whole 'newly single man' thing. The divorce had been a bitch, and not having Kathy play secretary was starting to get to him.
"Hello?" he asked lowly. What does Liv want now?
They had spent the night out, getting drinks, and she'd been laughing deliriously the whole time over stupid little jokes. It was very uncharacteristic of her, and if he was correct, something raspberry-scented was on her. He just didn't know what.
"It's Munch," said the said gentleman. "How are you, Stabler?"
"It's three am, you bastard," said Elliot. "What do you want? This better be good."
"We have a case," said Munch.
"Don't we always have a case?"
"Shut up. It's important, Stabler."
"Just get Liv to do it."
"Liv can't."
"Why not?"
There was a moment of hesitation.
"She's the victim."
Elliot stared at the wall. There was a crack in this apartment, a huge crack that spread all over and sprawled out into different directions, roots to another problem that he still couldn't quite solve despite years of effort.
"What?"
She was shaking.
Usually, it was she who interrogated the victim. This time, however, she was the one with mascara tears trailing down her face while paramedics strapped her to a stretcher. Oh, the irony. Her head was still hurting, and she remembered being found, a skinny little girl with kinky hair and caramel eyes.
She jerked away. "Don't—no—"
The girl stared at her fearfully. "Mommy? There's a lady in the elevator."
A woman entered. A hand went up to her mouth. "Oh my God."
It was like all of the horror stories she encountered each day had ran up into each other and become one big nightmare in her own life. The pillowcase kept emerging in her head, and she smelled his darkness all over her. Make it stop oh God please make it stop—
"Liv!"
She turned her head, which was rather difficult when strapped to a stretcher, and saw Elliot, running towards her. "Elliot!"
He jumped into the ambulance. "Oh, my God, Benson, are you okay?"
Wouldn't you of all people know whether or not I was? "N-n-no," she stuttered, her dark eyes flittering across his face. What if he hurts me? The seeds of paranoia had been planted once more. "Elliot…he…he…"
The woman who had seen every possible way of sexual abuse, every form of violence, broke down in tears, barely able to keep herself together as the night's brutalities came back to her. He hurt me, Elliot. He raped me. He raped me.