Olivia lurched forward into the darkness, her shirt soaking with her own sweat. She'd been thrashing beneath the sheets wildly, flailing about like a fish on the shore. The muscles in her chest constricted tightly as her windpipe slowly shrunk, making it nearly impossible to take in any oxygen. The only light in Olivia's room was from the moon outside of her window.

Clutching the covers, Olivia scanned the empty space, as if He were lurking under the bed. In the split seconds of her escape from her dream, she was sure He was still alive— still waiting for her. She felt dirty from where He'd touched her and she clawed at her skin to rid herself of his fingerprints. She was convinced that his scent was still on her and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

From the other side of the door, Elliot was sound asleep on the couch; he'd dozed off to reruns of "Cheers" and was out for the count. He couldn't hear Olivia gasping for air, nor did he pick up on the bone-chilling sense of panic that oozed from her room. Like a skunk's stench, it wafted throughout the suite and covered every surface. Nothing was safe from its reach, except for the jet-lagged man on the sofa. It was only when a high-pitched whimpering sent a shiver down his spine that Stabler jolted to attention. He leapt up from his spot on the cushions, ignored the slight dizzy spell he got from moving so fast, and readied himself to knock down the door. "Liv?" he called out worriedly. "You ok?"

Goosebumps rose on her arms when she heard Elliot say her name; he was her anchor. He was what tugged her back to planet earth. He was what helped her fight through the feeling of suffocating. "Fine," she squeaked unconvincingly.

"Can I come in?"

If Olivia had given into her gut reaction, she would have said yes without any guilt or hesitation. But, even in her current state of distress, the woman clung to her common sense. She didn't want anyone to see her like this, not even her oldest friend. This was not something she wanted to be remembered for. "I'm fine," she said again. "Go back to sleep."

Tilting his forehead against the wood, Stabler exhaled loudly. "I can't do that, Liv. I gotta know you're all right first." Olivia dropped her face in her hands and wept silently. Elliot couldn't see her, but something told him she wasn't "fine." "Look, I'm up now, so… if you need anything, you let me know, ok? I'm…" but there was nothing else he could say— nothing that would make any of this better. What he wanted to tell her, Olivia didn't need to hear… not right now. Instead, Elliot leaned against the door and slid to the ground. His knees propped up in front of him, he rested his elbows on top and cracked his knuckles. He'd done this before: waited outside someone's room. He'd done it with Kathy and his kids; he was a master at consoling loved ones.

Unaware that Stabler was just feet away from her, Olivia stayed in her bed and hugged herself. A few minutes of pure fear passed by, giving the woman a chance to recuperate. Her teeth stopped chattering and her body temperature began to regulate itself. The cold sweat she'd erupted in broke as she let herself lay down once again. Pulling the blankets up over her shoulders, Olivia stared up at the ceiling with wide eyes. His voice rang in her ears and every time she attempted to fall back asleep, she saw Him holding the gun. She couldn't do it. Although her system yearned for the rest, Olivia forced herself to stay awake. So did Elliot.

"Is it your testimony, Detective Benson, that Mr. Lewis died of a self-sustained gunshot wound?"

Olivia stuck her neck out and kept her back straight, her hands conveniently hidden in her lap with the freedom to fidget as she wished. The hem of her slate-gray blazer was quite interesting, the way the stitches had been sewn together so seamlessly. The two and half cups of coffee she'd guzzled down just hours before had kick-started her system; she felt like she could run the Boston Marathon. Olivia had rarely experienced such a buzz where all of her senses were heightened. She could hear every car pass by the street and see every speck of dust that floated around her. Suddenly, the caffeine overdose didn't seem like such a good idea.

Although she was no stranger to Barba's harsh nature, not even when it was directed at her, this was different. She wasn't testifying on someone else's behalf; this was her own ass she had to save. "Yes, that's correct. I watched him pull the trigger."

Rafael took a leisurely stroll in front of Olivia, as if teasing her, playing out the suspense. His navy, pin-striped suit hugged his form snugly as he strutted about in a rather annoying manner. The leather of his shoes screeched with every step that he took, and he used that to his advantage. He took long and slow strides. If he could irritate Olivia just enough, as he was sure the other team would try to do, there was a possibility she might crack. Better now than later.

He turned to the face the would-be jury, comprised of Nick Amaro, Finn Tutuola, and Elliot Stabler— Cassidy had not been seen or heard from in nearly 24 hours— and thumbed through his folder to create the illusion that he was really looking for something. In reality, he knew what his second question was going to be on the car-ride over to the hotel. This was just a trick he picked up in law school: make people nervous. The more anxious they are, the more likely you are to uncover the secrets they were holding onto. "You previously recorded a statement concerning your captivity by Mr. Lewis, which we later learned to be false."

Creating tight fists, Benson clenched her jaw instinctively and tilted her chin somewhat. "I made a claim that he—"

"So, you're not denying that you committed perjury?" Barba challenged; he didn't even let her finish her thought. He was bringing the heat to this rehearsal. There was not a chance in hell he was going to allow a repeat of last time, not when it was his name on the line. He had a reputation to uphold, and he was going to make damn sure nothing and no one brought it down.

Her back arching further, she felt the strain in her spine and ignored the awkward stretch. Olivia quickly glanced over to her co-workers, sans Elliot (she'd been avoiding him all morning). This was more than your run-of-the-mill cross examination and they knew it. If this was just a trailer of what was to come next, they weren't sure they wanted to be present for the real thing. Of course, to support Olivia, they would. But Amaro looked about ready to pull his gun, and he would have if Finn weren't sitting next to him. Then again, the older man had his plate full with Elliot's constant throat-clearing. If Amaro did try something, Finn might not have even noticed.

All three of them were stuffed together on the couch and all three of them forced themselves to watch this train wreck of a run-through. Barba hadn't really given them a choice, to be honest. Their instructions were to sit and keep quiet. They weren't there as police, but as ignorant, observing strangers. When they all followed their orders and none of them made an effort to intervene, Olivia stared straight on towards the entryway, her eyes fixed on the doorknob. "No, I'm not denying it."

With a loud "smack," Barba slammed the folder closed and flew towards his witness like a vampire who'd just smelled blood. "Then why should we believe that you're telling the truth now?"

From her peripheral vision, the sergeant caught sight of Amaro's knee bouncing up and down. In seconds, a hand shot out in the young cop's direction and the bouncing ceased. Olivia wished it hadn't; it'd been the distraction she needed. She didn't want to go back to that warehouse, to be tied to a table once again. She didn't want to hear His voice in her ears, to hold the weapon against her temple. And she definitely didn't want to see the explosion of red splatter onto every object in the room and every empty inch of her exposed flesh. She didn't want any of that.

But she couldn't say it. She couldn't tell a jury what had really happened, because Barba was right: they had no reason to trust her. The last time she'd been on the stand, she recanted her statements on live television. As she melted under Barba's burning gaze, she grazed over the details of her life— her now-life, not the one she'd been living just a week before. She wasn't the captain anymore, she couldn't go home, she had no family, and she had no badge.

Olivia licked her lips and ignored the peanut gallery as they hung off the edge of their seats. With the authoritative tone she'd used so many times before, Detective Benson gave the only response she'd been able to formulate. "Because it's all I've got left."

Truly taken aback but such a dark and heavy response, Barba faltered pathetically and lost his train of thought. He turned and searched the men for some sign of coercion or a hint of an explanation, but they were as shocked as he was, if not more. None of them had ever heard Olivia sound so resigned in all of the time that they'd known her, which when the years were combined, totaled several decades.

Being the professional that Barba so proudly boasted to be, he simply continued as if his ego hadn't just been shaken. "No further questions," he mumbled.

And just like that, as if a director had yelled "Cut!" the tension in the room shattered into millions of pieces. Olivia released the breath she'd been holding for what felt like an eternity, while her friends closed their previously-open mouths. She stood up from the wooden dining chair and concentrated on maintaining composure. This wasn't even close to being over.

"You really think they're gonna be that rough?" Finn asked Barba with his arms folded over his beefy chest. There was an obvious air of doubt in his tone; he'd thought it unnecessary to grill Olivia so harshly for a "what if."

Clicking his briefcase shut, the ADA grasped the handle tight enough to snap it off. Although he wouldn't show it, he too had been rattled during that practice run. "Anything I would do, they're going to take to the next level. This was child's play compared to what Strauss is capable of."

Olivia silently counted each beat of her heart as the macho-men conversed with one another. She didn't have very much to say— not any more than she'd already expressed. Had she been by herself in moments after their scrimmage, she would have fallen apart for sure. Her knees felt weak under her weight; whether that was due to exhaustion to emotional duress, she couldn't say. But, with four pairs of eyes monitoring her every blink and sniffle, ready to catch her when she fell, she gripped onto reality with all of her strength.

"This Strauss," Elliot started seriously, "is he, by any chance, as big a prick as you are?" He cocked an eyebrow at the man in the suit, unapologetic and genuinely concerned. If he was as big a jerk as he sounded in passing, Elliot got the sense that Strauss wasn't something to mess with.

If he was insulted, Barba didn't show it. If anything, he seemed rather amused at Stabler's gallantry and impulsive-nature. All of the rumors he'd heard about the detective were shaping up to be true. As the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, Barba squinted at Stabler quizzically, as if trying to read him. "Even bigger."

Amid the testosterone-filled stand-off, Finn's phone wailed loudly until he relented and answered the needy caller. "Tutuola," he greeted dryly. "She what? Fine. We're on our way." When he hung up, the pairs of eyes that had been staring at Olivia were now glued to him. "That was Murphy. Amanda's got somethin.' He needs us back at the station ASAP."

Snapping out of her daze, Olivia took a step forward. This was the break she'd been praying for, an interruption she welcomed with open arms. "I'll come with you."

"You know you can't do that," Amaro replied somberly. "You're s'posed to stay here until the hearing, that's why we came to you."

Olivia nodded as if she were in agreement, though her words conveyed otherwise. "I'm not waiting 18 hours in a hotel room. I may not have my badge, but I still have training."

From the moment the sun rose, Elliot had been treading carefully around Olivia. She'd made it clear that she needed her space and he did his best to respect that. When the guys arrived for the rehearsal, he acted as if nothing was wrong. He made no mention of their hellish night and he did everything but hover over Olivia. When Barba constantly reminded him of his place in this mess, Elliot obeyed without protest. And, every time he wanted to defend Olivia from the wrath of lawyer-speak, Barba conveniently and swiftly blocked him. But now, during what would have been his chance to side with his former partner and show her that he was truly on her side, Stabler found himself siding against her. "Liv, he's right. It's safer here than—"

"Fellas, look, I need you to listen very carefully to what I'm saying," Benson began slowly, resisting the urge to glower at Elliot, "I am not on house arrest. I am not a civilian you need to protect. I am a New York Detective. And I am an adult." Plucking her keys from the dining room table and stuffing her phone into her back pocket, the brunette effortlessly threw on her coat and charged for the door. The same security guards from the previous night were still standing watch, their guns held at their sides; it was as if they hadn't budged an inch. They looked over at the woman they were assigned to mind, saw the determination in her eyes, and knew instantly they were in trouble. Olivia made it halfway over the threshold when she turned back towards the confused men in the center of the room. "Are you coming, or not?"

When the bumbling quartet arrived at the station, Murphy and Amanda were chattering animatedly towards one another. She was turning red from repeating herself over and over and his eyes were bulging from hearing the same thing five times. She claimed he wasn't getting it, and he claimed she was reaching. It wasn't exactly a welcome-back party, not that Olivia had been expecting balloons or a cake or anything. In fact, it was rather reassuring to see that she wasn't the only one struggling during this case— not that she needed confirmation. Everyone was having trouble.

The closer she got to the arguing pair, the deeper Olivia's heart sank into her stomach. Whenever she heard His name said out loud, she had the overwhelming urge to flee; a thousand tiny shocks spread through her body, a sensation far worse than pins and needles. It wasn't logical, not to her, and she hated that she couldn't turn it off. She might as well have been wearing a sign across her chest with "Victim" written in red letters.

In the end, Olivia merely smirked at the rowdy individuals, having reminded herself that she was a sergeant. "Fighting like a married couple already? Didn't even invite us to the wedding," she joked as she planted herself in front of the dry-erase board.

"Don't worry, it wasn't that nice," Amanda shot back as she scowled at her interim-boss. When she felt calm enough to turn away from Murphy and caught sight of Olivia, her anger suddenly turned into confusion. It hadn't fully registered that they'd all brought Olivia with them until she saw the half-alive woman gritting her teeth.

Before Murphy could chastise him, Finn pointed to the new, official-looking document pinned next to Lewis's oh-so-handsome picture. "Whatcha got?" he asked, redirecting the focus.

"You— what are you doing here?" Murphy growled at Stabler, his shoulders squared as if he were ready for another round.

Rolling his eyes, Elliot groaned. "Look, Scruffy, I'm not up to—"

"He's with me," Olivia answered evenly. "For the time being, he's one of us, ok? So, you wanna tell me what you found?"

Like the guards at the hotel, Murphy knew he couldn't win; he had a sinking feeling that he was losing control of his squad— not that they were his to begin with. But, he was gradually finding out where their allegiances belonged. And, while it was admirable, it was also stupid. That allegiance, that loyalty, would end up getting them into trouble some day, he was sure. They just didn't seem to care; they were so blinded by their devotion, they couldn't see the bigger picture. "Autopsy report just came in," he said sourly. "Looks like Lewis," he ignored when Olivia cringed, "had a reason for playing the good-kid behind bars."

Yanking the paper from under the magnet, Amanda passed the findings down the line of impatient adults until it landed in Olivia's lap. "Warner found traces of an antidepressants in his system."

"Antidepressants?" Amaro asked. "You sure it wasn't antipsychotics?"

Amanda shook her head morosely, the palm of her hand pressed against the hilt of her gun. "Ok, so he was on meds. What does that have to with anything?" Olivia questioned. She read and reread the medical examiner's finely-tuned essay, but found absolutely zero significance.

Regardless, Amanda answered patiently and without condescension. She had no doubt that if Olivia had been on the other side of things, if she'd been in Amanda's position, it would've clicked for her. "Antidepressants have a ton of side-effects, right? Mood changes, weight gain, visions problems. But, for some people, they can also increase the chances of suicidal thoughts or, I dunno, tendencies. It looks like Lewis was on a pretty regular dose."

As if someone had just plugged her back into life, Olivia snapped her head up and searched the room full of faces. There was a mixture of satisfaction, torment, and sympathy. Suddenly, the fog subsided and she could see clearly. For the first time in two days, she didn't feel like completely shit. For the first time in two days, she felt a sliver of hope. "Which means he could've been…?"

"That's what we're thinkin,'" Rollins confirmed Benson's unspoken query.

"Who prescribed the medication?" Olivia asked without missing a beat. Although she felt a surge of relief, she also knew not to get too excited. Evidence could be used against them just as easily as it could be used for them.

"That's what we still have to figure out," Rollins admitted. "I'm going back to check his cell for any Shawshank stuff, ways he could've kept them hidden since they weren't originally registered to him. But, right now, we're thinkin' someone on the outside was smugglin' them."

Tugging at his beard anxiously, Murphy pointed to Finn, who he was still going to talk to at some point. "You go with Rollins, make sure you cover every base. Talk to janitors who might've seen bottles or the guards in the visitation room. Re-check all of the sign-in sheets and look for any name that we haven't already taken down." Finn nodded sternly before he and Amanda took off like flying bullets. "Amaro, you talk to the M.E.. See if there's anything else we should know that's not on that paper; if there was a birthmark on his ass or a freckle on his neck, write it down."

With Amaro gone, there were only three left. Barba reached for the report and skimmed the details once again. It was all pretty preliminary, but it was enough to buy them a vowel, if not land the jackpot. "We might not get off with conspiracy, but this changes things. If we're lucky, this piece of paper will just have won us the case."

"Wait," Olivia caught Barba by his patched-elbow. "You don't actually believe this is enough, do you?"

Never one who particularly enjoyed having his instincts questioned, Barba only allowed it this once because of who was asking. And, considering he had an audience, he couldn't think of any way that refusing would benefit him. "Until we find out more— how did you put it before? It's all we've got."

Straightening his coat, the turtle-lipped man nodded to each of the spectators and took off towards the elevators, leaving Olivia frowning at his response. "This— this doesn't add up. Lewis… He knew he was going to go down and he wanted to take me down with him. That's why he did this. That's why he did all of this," she gestured to the board.

"So, what are you saying? You don't think he was suicidal?" Murphy clarified. He matched Stabler's gruff posture, subconsciously trying to compete.

For Olivia, the room around her began to spin the harder she thought. She'd been pushing herself so hard all morning, never giving herself a break or cutting herself any slack. She was so ferocious, so resolute. She was slowly driving herself mad the longer she went without loosening the reigns. "Do you?"

The lieutenant glanced at the mess that was Lewis's crime. He followed the strings that connects one piece to another, his blood boiling at the very sight of the sicko. There was more to this man that only one of them witnessed, but so much more than any of them would ever find out. In all of his years of service, Murphy could confidently say that he'd never been involved in such a twisted case, not even in his undercover days. Even with all of the information they'd gathered, it still wasn't enough.

Turning back to the puzzled woman, Murphy furrowed his brow and observed Olivia's troublesome expression. "You said you knew him best," he recalled, "it's on you to make that call. Just make sure it's the right one."

A/N - Ok, SVU friends! I'm back. Sorry it took so long to update. Like I mentioned before, school's is keeping me on my toes. I meant to have something last week, but nothing I wrote down seemed to fit. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for all of the great reviews so far, and thanks for the follows/favorites. I'll be back as soon as I can! I promise, there's more to come!