XXII:

Liv leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen and watched Rafael dicing vegetables for whatever he was getting ready. "Hey," she said softly.

"Hi," he replied. "I thought you might want something home cooked for dinner tonight instead of –"

"I don't care, really," she replied. "I'm not hungry."

"I'm making spaghetti," he continued. "Nothing fancy, just a marinara –"

"Rafa…"

"You have to eat," he said, glancing up from the cutting board, setting the knife aside for a moment to meet her gaze. "You didn't have anything for lunch and you only had a slice of toast for breakfast –"

She knew he was trying to be patient with her, that he was tired and was upset himself – and that was enough to make her feel more guilty about worrying him. "Rafael, I'm fine," Liv tried to assure him. "I'm just not hungry."

He picked up the knife again and pointed it at her and muttered, "Liar." Then he went back to the veg as if he hadn't just said it. "I thought maybe we could go up and see abuelita tomorrow – she called, asking about you today. I didn't want to upset her, so I said maybe in a few days, but maybe it would be better if –"

"No, tomorrow would be great," Olivia murmured. "I miss Catalina. I want to hug her and never let go."

His shoulders tensed and didn't release, but the stiffness didn't reach his voice. "Funny: she said the same about you," he said, light and bright.

"Don't be jealous – she misses you more because you're her sassy boy," Liv sighed. "I'm a novelty."

He shrugged.

"C'mon, Raf, don't do this," she muttered. "You know I don't have anyone but your family and my asshole brother – if he's even alive – and my friends. I don't mean for it to sound like I'm trying to monopolize –"

"Liv, would you shut up and eat something?" he asked. "Please."

"You're so bossy," she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Y'know, I was thinking maybe we should get away for a few days, but Lindstrom would probably flip tables if we missed therapy," he said mildly. "Do you want chocolate? Or fruit? There's some Oreos still."

"I'm getting whiplash from you changing subjects repeatedly. Fine, I'll eat some crackers or something."

"You want to go out tomorrow night?"

"I really don't."

He paused, then his shoulders stiffened. "Yeah. I guess that's fair."

"But you want to."

"No, I mean – it's fine. You don't want to. It's fine." He smiled wanly. "I just thought we could do something nice and normal for a little while."

"Rafa… I just want to crawl into bed and sleep till I don't wake up."

His hands stilled again and his jaw clenched. "I know," Rafael said softly, "but you can't do that, Liv. You have to keep going."

"I'm trying," she murmured. "And I just keep… I keep thinking it's my fault. That if I hadn't riled him up in the interrogation, if he hadn't fixated – that none of this… none of it would have happened."

"You don't know that," he said softly. "He could have done something far worse. Mi amor, what happened is what happened and we can't change it now. He's gone. William Lewis is dead. And we're still here. We're still alive. We have to keep going, move forward – we can't dwell on him, Olivia." He took a deep breath, then added, "I have never in my life been so scared as the moment I thought I had lost you forever to that monster: but I had to believe that you were strong enough to fight back because that's the Olivia Benson I know. That's the Olivia I love – fearless, brave to a fault, stubborn as hell, and fierce. My god, Liv, you are the fiercest person I've ever known." He turned to look at her, tears in his eyes. "That's why I know you won't give up now."

"I'm so tired of fighting, Rafa." Her voice was small, so small, so tired. "I think I want to leave SVU. I don't know that I can do this anymore –"

"I have three weeks more leave," he reminded her, "and you have five. You don't have to make any decisions today. There's plenty of time to think about it. God knows, I could stand to take more cases away from sex crimes for a while – I think McCoy would understand."

"You shouldn't have to sacrifice your career trajectory because I fucked up –"

"Olivia, I walked into our home and thought you were probably dead," he said sharply. "My career doesn't fucking matter. Do you understand? I wake up in the night, scared to death you won't be there, and I can't tell you that because you have your own shit to deal with and… it isn't fair to you. I just… look, it doesn't matter, okay? There are private firms salivating to take me on, and the only reason I'm staying on this path is because I have my eyes on the bench. But none of that matters if you aren't beside me, Liv. You get it?" His face was half anguish, half hope, and it nearly broke her.

"Yeah," she whispered.

"It's too soon to make any decisions," he assured her gently. "I love you. I just… I want us to be happy again. Whatever it takes, as long as it takes. I don't care."

"Me, too," Liv agreed, her tears spilling over as she moved into his arms. She pressed her face into his shoulder and breathed in the warm scent of his skin through the cotton of his t-shirt, drawing comfort from it as he held her close. "I'm sorry –"

"Don't be," he whispered, his voice thick with tears of his own.

Liv slid into her chair opposite Amaro and smiled a little across the desks. "Hey," she said softly.

"Welcome back," Amaro replied. "I like the haircut."

She reached up to touch her hair self-consciously. "Um… yeah. I did it, then Rafa booked me in with someone to get it shaped – turns out I'm not that great with scissors." Her smile fell a little. "So – where are we on…"

"Liv, if you need to talk about –"

"I don't," she said quickly. "What I need to do is get back to work, Nick. I've spent the last six weeks talking about it and healing from it and having skin grafts and surgery and…" Liv took a deep breath. "I'm fine. Everything is fine. William Lewis is dead. It's time to move on."

Amaro frowned and said, "Is that Barba talking or –"

"No, Nick. I'm just done letting that man take over my life," Liv said firmly. She met his eyes unwaveringly and said, "Now, tell me where we are with the case you caught this morning."

"Not much of a case – report of a domestic disturbance, but when I got there with Fin, nobody was there. No hospital admissions related to the content of the call, either, so I think we're better off writing it off as a hoax right now," Amaro replied.

"I would keep it open for at least another day or two, in case something shows in another borough," Liv sighed. "I hate being the pessimist –"

"You're right," he muttered.

She was about to speak again when Cragen came out of his office. "Olivia?"

"Yeah, Captain?"

"You got a minute?"

"I was just checking in with Amaro about the open case from this morning, but yeah," Liv replied, getting up and heading into the office. "What's up?"

Cragen invited her to sit with a quick gesture. "So… I know that you and Barba were looking into transfers. And I can't fault you for wanting out of SVU, all things considered." He paused. "But I assume you're back for good, since you didn't put in paperwork?"

Liv sighed and crossed her legs casually at the knee, feeling tension suddenly fill her body. "For now, yes," she said. "It… it isn't the right time for me to leave SVU. I have unfinished business here, and I can't let what happened dictate the rest of my life for me, Captain."

He nodded and regarded her thoughtfully. "Munch put in his papers while you were on leave," he said. "And I know we talked about you taking the Sergeant's exam before, but –"

"I'll do it," she said firmly.

"Good… because I'm retiring. And I want to know I'm leaving my squad in the hands of someone I can trust. So you'd better do me proud, Olivia."

She wouldn't tell him that she had recited the firearms manual to herself to stay conscious in the trunk of the car. She wouldn't tell him that she had quizzed herself on proper procedures just before she had snapped and beaten William Lewis to death.

If he had lived, she would have gone on trial for felony assault, lost her badge and gun… and, as it was, she was lucky that she hadn't been prosecuted for manslaughter or murder.

"Yes, sir," she agreed very quietly, trying not to heed the churning in her gut, the quiet self-loathing that was beginning to settle in. It would only get worse if she acknowledged it.

"Hey," Amaro said, knocking as he opened the door and poked his head into the office. "We've got a missing kid. Liv, we're up."

"I guess that's me," she said, smiling tightly. "I'll put myself in for the test. I was going to before all this happened anyway." She got up and fell into step beside Nick, pausing to grab her blazer, phone and keys from her desk before they headed out.

"What test?" he asked once they were in the car.

"Nothing you need to worry about," Liv assured him. "Nothing changes but what has to, you know."

Her heart beat faster and out of rhythm as she held the baby boy in her arms, whispering soothingly to him as he wept. All of the children were tired, scared, abysmally treated – except the baby, who, despite having been put in a dresser drawer to sleep, appeared to be unharmed at first appearance. "Hello, my love," Liv cooed softly to him. "Yes, there's a sweet boy – I've got you. Yes, I've got you." She rubbed his back and watched Amaro and the unis round up the other kids, shepherding them to the waiting ambulances, and her heart shattered, knowing what would happen if they couldn't find their parents.

The foster care system wasn't kind; she had seen too much, lived this life too long, knew that there were just too many cracks and crevices in the system for it to work well. And to continue to resign so many children over to the broken system hurt her soul in a way she couldn't begin to explain. Once, she might have been one of them, had her mother continued her behavior.

She kept it together until much later, when she was alone at home with Rafael, a glass of wine in her hands, a glass of scotch in his, the weight of the world on their shoulders as they tried not to talk about the day. "Maybe we could foster," Liv said quietly.

"Hmm?"

"An older child – maybe we could foster an older child that doesn't require as much direct supervision," she said. "Since we're not home as much –"

"It's a kid, Livvie, not a cat," he pointed out with a wry smirk. "Is this because of Baby Doe?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." She sighed irritably. "I just – no one is going to take us seriously if we don't advocate for ourselves, Rafael."

"And you want to foster right now."

She frowned. "I want those kids not to have to suffer."

"If wishes were horses, we'd all ride," he replied.

"Are you telling me that you wouldn't have wanted someone to advocate for you when your father was out of control?" she asked.

"I had abuelo and abuelita," he countered. "And mami when she could pull herself together enough to be a parent and not a victim." His words were soft and low, tinged with a mix of bitterness and compassion that tore at her heartstrings. "Which is more than these kids have, I know. You don't have to reiterate that, Liv. I get it. But –"

"But what, Rafael?"

He paused for a long moment, clearly thinking over his words carefully. He raised both of his hands, palms up, and curled his fingers in a gesture for her to take her hands. "I know you want to save the world," Rafael said gently, "and if you can't save everyone, you'll settle for just one person." He smiled self-depricatingly. "I'm proof enough of that."

She licked her lips, opened her mouth to protest, but the words merely came out as, "I love you, Rafa –"

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "But – I don't think right now… right this moment is the right time for us to be fostering or trying to adopt. We're still too fragile from what happened just a couple of months ago. Not to mention last year."

She flinched, tried to pull away, but he held her hands fast. "Raf –"

"Liv, I want a family with you," he said softly. "I do. But we both need time to heal first."

She didn't want him to know how close to the knife's edge she really was; how, though therapy and a low dose of anti-anxiety medication was keeping her level enough to function normally, every time she looked at him, every time she thought she might try to touch him in a way that was in any way more than this – a gentle reminder of better times – a seeping dread crawled through her and paralyzed her like a deer in the headlights of a car, praying for death to come instead of the inevitable flashbacks and pain because she could not be enough. She was never enough. And one day, Rafael would realize that and leave her just like everyone else did.

"I'm sorry," Liv croaked.

"No need to be sorry," he said, squeezing her hands. "We have a goal to work toward now, don't we? Getting better, together, so we can start our family."

"It's my fault we don't have –"

"Hey," he interjected. "No. Not your fault. Period. End of. Not up for discussion, Olivia."

There was a firm, unwavering earnestness to the conviction in his tone that almost made her believe him. Almost. But her inner demons still had to voice their due in whispers just loud enough to tug her below the surface and hold her down.

And the thought that she might never quite get better was terrifying to confront.

She woke up in blind panic, still feeling the grip of William Lewis's hand around her throat as he laid the hot keys on her inner thighs –

"Liv, breathe," Rafael insisted, his hands warm on her icy skin as he cupped her face. "Baby, please breathe – please –"

She gasped, choking, sobbing, gurgling words that didn't make sense. It felt like she was out of her body as she pushed away from him, from the bed, crawled into the corner and curled into the tiniest ball possible, tucking her head into her knees and trying to just concentrate on breathing and making the crawling feeling on her skin go away.

"Olivia –"

"He – he – hurt me –"

"I know." The words were simple, too simple, to encompass what he knew, the devastation that had been wrought between them by a monster.

"I can't."

"You can't what, Livvie?" he whispered in the darkness.

"I can't live with him in my head," she sobbed on a wail, tugging at her hair. "He – he hurt me, Rafa – and now – now he gets to just… live in my head forever?" Liv couldn't look at him as he bent down beside her and surrounded her with the gentle warmth of his embrace, his scent, his love. "I can't live like this –"

"Mi amor," Rafael whispered, "you are the strongest person I have ever known. And I am beside you, behind you, with you always… and in all ways. Te amo más que la vida misma. He isn't here. He doesn't get to win. Me escuchas, cariño?"

She took an unsteady breath, then another, and lifted her head, just a little. The room was mostly dark, but she could see the whites of his eyes, the concern etched into his face in the dim light from the electronics. "Yeah," Liv whispered. "Yeah." The corner of his lips lifted almost imperceptibly, but she saw it – the beginnings of that self-satisfied smirk that melted her insides.

Despite her racing heart and the screaming danger signals in her brain and the panic it caused her, she leaned over and gave him a kiss – the first kiss she had initiated since she had been held hostage. It was almost chaste, just a breath of a peck on the lips, but it surprised him and brought on an even smugger smirk.

It was the tiniest baby step in the history of baby steps, and Olivia felt completely flayed – skinned alive – by having done it. And yet, her husband was looking at her like she had hung the moon in the sky for him.

TBC...