June 2011

Elliot awoke to find her already up, fully dressed and clipping her shield to her belt.

'Olivia, don't you think you should maybe take a day?' he suggested, already knowing what she would say.

She shook her head. 'No,' she said flatly. 'No, I'm close, El, I know I am.'

'In what way are we close, Liv?' he asked, exasperated with her. 'We still don't know anything about this East Side creep-'

'Not to him.'

'Then-'

'He was one of my mother's boyfriends from when I was 11 to when I was 16. He never raped me, El, but he might as well have done. He wasn't the only one of my mother's friends to try it, but he was the worst.'

'Jesus, Liv, did you-'

'I didn't tell anyone. I never did. But I ran into him years later, after some local girls' parents complained. He kept on doing it, El, for years-' Her breath caught in her throat, and he stepped toward her. She waved him back, swallowed hard, and continued. 'I should have told, but I didn't, El, I couldn't. But I did do everything I could to pin all the years of abuse these other girls and God knows how many others on him, and got him sent down for 15 years.' She looked up at him and met his eyes. 'He's out, El, I know he is.'

'Liv, you can't know that-'

'I do,' she interrupted. 'And he knows I do.' She didn't tell him that he had called her early that morning, suggesting they meet for 'a nice catch-up.' Olivia couldn't wait. She was prepared this time. 'The man yesterday knew him. He planned the whole thing, Elliot.'

Elliot looked at her, resigned. 'You're going to do this whatever, aren't you?'

'You don't need to take care of me every damn minute, El.'

He sighed. 'Liv... I want to. Just promise you won't run off and do anything without me. Please.'

'I won't, El.' Olivia tried to ignore the guilt. She hated having to lie to him, but she couldn't bear the thought of what Miller might say to him or tell him. No one will ever want you when they know what you've done. She could almost see the look of disgust and feel his disappointment in her, listening to Miller brag about everything he'd done and everything she'd let him do, and her stomach clenched at the thought. 'I promise.'

Olivia slipped out of her apartment and almost ran down the stairs. She felt terrible for waiting until he had left to change in the bathroom, chatting amiably, deliberately skirting around the subject of what had happened on this sofa 5 years before, while the whole time she was intending to sneak out the minute she had the chance. Reaching the ground floor, she left the stairwell and headed out the doors into the street.

Upstairs, Elliot was awkwardly trying to change in Olivia's tiny, cramped bathroom. Clearly the architect had 5ft tall pygmies in mind when he designed this place. Either that, or the guy was some kind of weird sadist. It was cramped enough trying to sleep last night on that tiny sofa... although he did have fond memories of that sofa. But then she wasn't at work, and they'd never spoken about it since. It was probably for the best, especially since he was back with Kathy now.

The bathroom, however, did not have the benefit of any such memories. It was just cramped and irritating. Then again, it would be easier if there wasn't so much... stuff... in here. Although he had experience sharing a house and one bathroom with his teenage daughters, it still amazed him how much women seemed to have in there. There were shelves wedged between the sink and the wall in such a way that prevented the bathroom door from opening fully, piled high with towels and boxes of brightly coloured bottles of God knows what. The sink itself had tiny pots of various creams and powders crammed onto every available flat surface. Elliot rolled his eyes. From his experience, the tinier the bottle, the more expensive its mysterious contents were.

He paused, not sure if he had just heard the front door close. 'Liv?' He quickly pulled on his undershirt, only to realise he had it on backwards. He swore, decided he didn't care and left the bathroom. 'Liv?' There was no reply, and as he entered the living area, it was empty. 'Olivia?' Glancing around, he saw the torn scrap of paper on the table, weighted down by one of the many hideous fridge magnets she used to attach take-out menus to the refrigerator.

'I'm sorry, El. x'

Elliot swore again, grabbed his shirt and jacket and ran out of the apartment.

A/N: Do you guys think it's worth carrying on with this or should I give up and start something else? I can never tell how well stories are going when I'm the one writing them...