Hi guys, thank you for all your kudos and comments! 3
Remember, this story takes place in season 8, so Elliot has not been in solitary confinement before (doesn't happen until season 11).

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From the chance that they had lost Elliot.

That she had lost her El.

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"He's in solitary confinement."

Complete silence descended on Cragen's office for a few seconds before the captain's announcement reached their consciousnesses, causing them to heave a sigh of relief. Olivia hadn't even noticed that she had been holding her breath, and she exhaled sharply and slumped against the back of the chair, raising her hand to her forehead. Munch leaned against the wall, but Fin stood up annoyed and growled:

"Damn it! Why can't Stabler stay out of trouble?"

Olivia, on the other hand, said nothing; even though she was annoyed too, she should have known it, the relief caused the words to get stuck in her throat and tears to burn in the corners of her eyes. They had returned to the station a little earlier, but she remembered nothing of the trip, as she had been unable to think of anything but Elliot, seeing his battered, bleeding body on her retinas, and fear had squeezed her chest like the air was thin and difficult to breathe. After arriving at the station, Cragen had asked them all to his office and immediately called the prison warden, who, contrary to expectations, had answered almost immediately.

"What did he do?" Munch had clearly had to take a deep breath as well, because his voice was gruff, and Cragen raised his hand to rub his face.

"He had apparently attacked another prisoner, the prison warden could not say why."

Munch snorted and shook his head. "Why am I not even surprised?" He asked dryly and exchanged fed up glances with Fin. "Just when we've taken a step closer to proving his innocence, he decides to take two steps back. Cap, do you know how long he'll have to be there in case we'll have to interrogate him?"

That was when Cragen leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. His gaze had suddenly changed from annoyed to uncertain, and a new wave of worry swept through Olivia.

"That's the thing. The prison warden said that there is currently no room in protective custody in the prison, and considering the current situation, solitary confinement would the best place for him now. So…"

The captain's words caused another silence to settle over the room, but this time it wasn't one of surprise or relief, this time it had a new, darker, more oppressive tone. They had all heard about solitary confinement; they had heard how the prisoners would have preferred the death sentence over the return to there. They had heard stories of how time gets lost, it becomes meaningless, there are only walls, a closed door, lights that never go out, and a mindless, hopeless and absolute loneliness.

But the worst thing is not the unchanging room, the hourless days or not knowing when the door will open. The worst thing is to be locked in solitude with your own mind. It doesn't take long when the mind, which stays usually in control of the normal environment, begins to go its own way, can't find a fixed point and starts storming around the dirty and always bright walls, starts to imagine its own, and finally doesn't know what is real and what is just imagination. The freed mind turns against its owner and begins to kill him from the inside, but the person does not die, the body submits to the torture of the mind, and every moment you just feel alive but dead at the same time.

And that's why the anxiety that had eased for a moment started to burn inside Olivia again like an ember.

"Cap…" Her voice was weak, barely audible, but Cragen closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

"I know, Olivia, it's not the most ideal option. But he's treading so dangerous waters at the moment that letting him back into the company of prisoners would be almost like sending him to the lions' den. Solitary confinement is far from a humane solution, but it might be the only way we'll get him out of there safe and sound."

Olivia opened her mouth to protest, to tell him why it wasn't a good idea, but there was nothing to say, so she closed her mouth and swallowed hard. As uncomfortable and wrong as it was, Cragen was right. There were only bad options, because while this was how they could protect Elliot from the other prisoners, more time was the only thing they got.

It was a race between time and Elliot's mind.

Suddenly Olivia realized that everyone in the office was silent and looking at her. A small, lonely tear had imperceptibly rolled down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away before asking:

"What?"

"What do you think? He's your partner."

And then she realized that everyone was waiting for her permission, the last word, the final approval. They put Elliot's fate in her hands, and suddenly she felt like a huge weight would have landed onto her shoulders.

"He's your partner."

And as much as she hated herself, hated the situation, wanted to scream and hit something, even more she wanted to keep her partner safe.

She wanted her partner home.

And so, she opened her mouth, and heard how, somewhere in the distance, her mouth formed a silent word:

"Okay."

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The bright lights penetrated Elliot's eyelids, causing him to stir with a grunt. Harsh reality began to spread through his body, and for a moment he couldn't remember where he was or what had happened. His head was pounding, the floor beneath him was cold and hard, and he slowly opened his eyes. The bright lights made him blink and squint, and soon he realized he was lying on the floor.

What the…

Slowly he raised himself up to sit, his head pounding harder, and he had to close his eyes for a moment before his body adjusted to the change in position. Then he slowly began to look around, trying to find something that would have revealed his whereabouts, but to no avail. He was in a small, light-painted room with a bed, a sink and a toilet seat.

That's all.

A bad feeling began to swirl inside Elliot as he shifted his gaze to the door. To the door, which had one small hatch.

No…

Despite the throbbing in his head, he forced himself to his feet, had to take support from the wall as the world spun in his eyes, and for a moment he feared he would lose consciousness again. Carefully he stepped to the door, knocked on it, and asked:

"Hello?"

When there was no answer, anxiety slowly began to rise in his throat, but he forced it back down by swallowing. He knocked harder on the door and exclaimed:

"Hello? Is anybody there?"

Nothing.

Despite his efforts, panic began to spread through his veins, and he started banging the door with his fists. Each bang echoed off the walls of the small room, making his ears buzz and the throbbing in his head worsen, but he didn't care, as the walls of the room seemed to begin to fall towards him, the air began to feel heavy, and although he had never felt claustrophobic, suddenly he wanted nothing more than the closed door to open.

"HEY!" He roared, even though panic had dried his throat, and the voice sounded rough and weak. "OPEN THE DOOR!"

But there was no one.

Slowly he sat down against the cold door, tried to take deep breaths to calm his furiously pounding heart, and leaned his face against his arm. His heartbeat was humming wildly in his ears, the headache was making him feel dizzy, and the harder he tried to fight the thoughts, the harder they pushed into his consciousness until he was forced to admit what had happened.

He had beaten the prisoner.

They had knocked him out.

They had put him in solitary confinement.

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The next time Elliot opened his eyes, he realized he had fallen asleep against the door. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but the headache had started to subside, and his brain was working a little more clearly. He let his eyes wander around the small room, tried to find even a small window, from which the shining daylight would help him figure out the times of the day, but in vain. Only the white painted, cold walls stared back at him, and he closed his eyes for a moment before he was forced to get up as his bladder was protesting against sitting.

After flushing the toilet, he slowly walked over to the bed and sat down. The mattress wasn't comfortable, and the mattress in the prison cell was starting to look like a princess bed as he lifted the blanket and grimaced. With a quick glance, the mattress didn't seem to have a single smooth spot, and the pale covering was decorated with countless different colored stains, the origin of which Elliot didn't even want to know. The blanket didn't seem much better, but the dark shade gave the illusion of cleanliness, and he settled down to lie on it.

Even though, judging by the way he was feeling, he had just slept quite a lot, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He had nothing else to do.

And at least that way, he was able to escape reality.

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When Elliot next woke up, he was feeling unreal. It was astonishing how quickly the body began to go haywire without the time of day, and if someone had asked him now how long he estimated he had been confined to his little room, he might as well have guessed a few hours as a few days.

The only thing that reminded him of the passage of time was his stomach, which had begun to growl demandingly. He had no idea how often food was served in solitary confinement, but judging by the protesting of his belly, he could guess that it wasn't every few hours at least.

But then, as if someone had read his mind, the hatch at the bottom of the room's door slammed, and a small tray slid in. In a flash, Elliot was at the door, pounding it with his fists, shouting, pleading, hoping to hear even a small voice, but to no avail.

Not even the sound of footsteps could be heard.

Elliot had never thought of himself as a very social person. He enjoyed being alone, in his own company, and a few close people were enough for him to keep him content. The only people he usually missed were his family and his partner; when they were there, that was enough for him.

But now, looking at the probably cold bowl of porridge waiting on the floor, he felt like he needed nothing more than to see and hear someone, anyone.

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Hunger had been purely the only thing that had driven him to eat an entire plate of lumpy, thick and cold porridge, and with a shudder of disgust, he dropped the bowl down onto the tray. He wanted to go to sleep again, but nausea was squirming in his guts, and to calm his stomach, he decided to work out for a while first.

At least now he had no excuses to skip gym day.

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One training had continued into another, third, and at some point, he had lost count. Whether he had worked out many times in one day or once a day over several days didn't matter. But when Elliot was making push-ups for the fifth or maybe tenth time, he heard it.

Someone was talking.

Judging by the number of meals, he had already spent several days in his single-room apartment, but never before had he managed to detect any signs of other life.

But now he was hearing it.

It was quiet, barely audible, like whispering, but it made him stop his set of push-ups and perk up his ears. The voice didn't come from the door, that was for sure, it was as if it was coming from the other side of the room.

"Hello?" He asked quietly as he slowly stood up, trying to locate the source of the voice. "Is someone there?"

The voice did not answer, but it began to sound clearer to his ears, stronger, as if encouraged by his question. Cautiously, Elliot started walking towards the voice, all the while carefully listening for changes in it, but instead of disappearing, it slowly began to grow stronger.

"Hello?"

The voice seemed to guide him towards the wall next to his bed, and he stopped to listen.

It was as if it was coming from inside the wall.

He swallowed and slowly pressed his ear against the wall. He still couldn't make out the words, but suddenly his heart felt skipping a beat when a familiar warmth spread inside him as if someone had poured warm water on him.

He would have recognized the voice anywhere.

Liv.

"LIV!" He began to shout, the words bouncing off the walls of the room, and tears welling up in his eyes. "Liv! I'm here!"

But the voice died down, as if he had scared it, and the room was again filled with an oppressive, choking silence.

No.

"Liv!"

But shouting was useless, the voice was gone, and all that was left was a wordless, bottomless loneliness that wrapped itself around Elliot's heart like a rope. He leaned his forehead against the wall, unable to hold back the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

"Please, come back, Liv," he whispered, but to no avail.

The cold walls did not accept wishes.

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Elliot was startled awake by the slamming of the food hatch, and he rubbed his forehead, which had been pressed against the cold wall. He blinked in confusion, trying to understand what had happened, and picked up a shriveled apple from the floor.

He had heard his partner's voice.

He was sure of it.

However, chewing the apple slowly began to clear his thoughts, and the longer he ate the fruit, the more certain he was that his mind was playing tricks on him. He had heard stories of prisoners who had been driven crazy by the voices in their heads, but he hadn't thought the same thing would happen to him.

His mind began to come up with the things it most longed for.

Olivia.

A couple of years earlier, he would have been confused why he heard his partner's voice. He had a family: four wonderful, beautiful children, and a moment ago he had had an amazing, beautiful wife. Their voices were the ones he should have heard.

Not his partner's.

But after the Gitano incident, he was no longer surprised.

And that was when he finally understood it.

He had loved Kathy, and he always would. But the fear he'd felt when, for a few, horrible seconds, he had thought he had lost Olivia, was something he had never thought he'd experience. Those few seconds had shaken him to his core, but at the same time they had rocked his world, forced him to finally face his true feelings for his partner.

And there, deep inside his heart, thanks to Gitano, he had found the key to the door that his mind, his reason and his sense of duty to his family had told him to avoid for so long. The door behind which the truest, most secret feelings were closely hidden. Behind it was hidden love; more primal, stronger than he had even known he could feel.

All these years it had waited, quietly and patiently. It had obeyed his orders, remained hidden, been merciful to him.

It had been waiting that some day, he would find the key, find the forgotten door, and set it free. Because it was how it had always supposed to be. Free.

And now, he had finally turned the key in the lock.

Elliot wasn't sure what had woken him. The remnants of a panic attack were still running in his veins, his throat felt rough from the desperate screaming, his sleep had been dark and restless, but suddenly he felt as if a warm breath had passed over him.

And then he heard it.

"Elliot".

He didn't have courage to open his eyes, because he was afraid it would make the voice disappear again. It didn't matter anymore if the voice was imagined or real, as long as it stayed with him, that was all he needed.

"El."

His eyes snapped open. The voice had been no longer distant and muffled, it had been clear and determined. He blinked in the bright light and eyed the room, and then he saw her.

Olivia.

His eyes widened, the words got stuck in his throat, and staring at his partner standing in front of him was the only thing he could do. But then she smiled weakly, and the hoarse words escaped his lips as if by themselves:

"How… How can you be here?"

"I'm always with you."

Elliot slowly stood up, and very carefully reached out to touch his partner. But even though she was standing there, right in front of him, his hand didn't find her, didn't feel her warm cheek.

She wasn't real.

Of course she wasn't.

Tears clouded his eyes as he lowered his gaze to the ground. The pain cut through his heart like a knife, he wanted to scream, but instead he mumbled quietly:

"I'm so alone, Liv. I'm gonna lose my mind, I can't do this anymore."

But then he felt her hand on his cheek, this time warm, real, and even though he knew it was all happening inside his head, it comforted him like a warm blanket wrapped around him.

"I know, El. But we'll get you out of here, I promise."

Then she slowly led him back to the bed, sat down next to him, and Elliot rested his head on her lap. He didn't dare touch her, afraid of breaking the spell, instead he closed his eyes and focused on his partner's soft hand caressing his cheek.

"Please, don't leave me."

"I'll stay until you fall asleep."

And even though Elliot didn't want to fall asleep, sleep involuntarily began to wrap him in its soft embrace. And there, in his partner's arms, he no longer felt the squirming tentacles of panic inside him.

All he felt was peace.

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Season 11 ep 3 in a utopian parallel universe ;)

I'm listening to the song "There You'll Be" by Faith Hill and my heart hurts for them.