**Content warning** The next couple chapters are going to touch on the William Lewis story arc, its not explicit, but I wanted to add a trigger warning anyway**

Elliot tried to keep his shit together as they drove to Liv's apartment. While he maintained a cool demeanor on the outside, his insides a tangled mess of guilt and regret. He felt physically ill, but he had to keep it together for her could fall apart later.

Silence echoed through the entire ride with only the ambient city sounds as a soundtrack. He kept glancing over at Olivia, but she refused to look in his direction, instead focusing on anything else out the window.

Neither spoke on the elevator or even as she unlocked the door. Was he supposed to stay? She didn't slam the door in his face so he took that as a sign he could enter.

He watched Liv drop everything on to her counter. She walked to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, all without saying a word to him.

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back unsure what to do. No way in hell was he leaving, but he wasn't sure she wanted him to stay. Before he could think of what to say she spoke. "I really do need a minute El. I'm glad you're here but I need to decompress before I can talk anymore." Her entire body sunk in mental exhaustion.

He nodded in understanding, and backed towards the door. The panic on her face made him pause. "Do you want me to stay?" He hoped she said yes.

Her eyes dropped to the floor, "Do you want to stay?"

Right now she seemed so vulnerable, fragile even, a striking contrast to the woman the world knew her to be. He took another step and lifted her chin so her deep brown eyes could meet his. He wanted so badly to kiss her. To make this all go away, but he knew that would be impossible.

"Liv, I'll do whatever you want. Whatever you need. I have spent too much time thinking about myself," his voice caught, "when I should have put you first all along."

He kept his eyes on hers, wanting nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms and never let her go.

She grabbed his hand and it tingled from her warmth. Her eyes dropped but met his again. "Stay." She said, not much louder than a whisper,husky in quality.

Her invitation almost moved him to tears. No matter how much he screwed up. No matter how much he hurt her. No matter how many times he chooses someone or something else over her, she always gives him another chance.

"Can you just be here? I don't want to be alone, but I do." He tried to understand the explanation.

"I need some time, but I want you to be here when I come out." She started walking toward her room. She turned again, "El, thanks."

He wanted to cry for what!? He royally screwed up and completely f-ed up her life and his at the same time, but he forced a smile and nodded.

She shut the door and he found himself standing alone in her living room. He walked to the couch and dropped to the cushions. If he needed to be here all day then he needed to let Ayanna know. Not wanting to disturb Olivia with the noise of a call he texted Ayanna.

E: Hey something came up. I probably won't make it in today.

Ayanna texted him back.

A:I figured. Liv okay?

He smiled a little. Ayanna may not understand the delicate line he walked with Liv, but she always supported him 100%.

E: She will be. I think today shook her up and she needs some time.

A: I can't imagine. It surprised me that she ever went back to SVU after William Lewis.

Elliot's stomach turned at the name. She told him what happened but she never said his name, and it left a bad taste in his mouth. He wasn't sure what to reply.

E: Yeah. I know.

He left it at that. How did everyone in the NYPD know about this, but he never heard a word about it? He needed to text Jet.

E: Can you send me a case file?

J: Yeah what one?

E: William Lewis?

It took her a solid five minutes to text him back.

J: Are you sure you want to see that?

Elliot's frustration rose. Why the hell did everyone insist on handling him with kid gloves right now?

E: Just send me the damn file Jet.

J: Okay.

Another five minutes passed before his phone pinged again.

J: There are two files. Want both?

E: Yes

J: You should have access to them now.

—-

Nothing could have prepared him for the contents of those files. Even the horror of Liv's watered down summary in her office didn't touch on the terror this man subjected her to. His stomach turned at the photos of her apartment. Tossed in complete disarray. Bile rose in his throat while he viewed photos of duct tape with dark brown hair attached, and a kitchen strewn with metal hangers and keys. He seethed, but not at the man who did this to her, but himself. Why the hell did he ever leave her? He let this happen to her.

Four days. He felt tears stinging at his eyes while he tried to fight them back. He felt damn sure if he were there it wouldn't have taken four days to find her, and he would have killed that man before he could ever touch her again.

He read through her account of her four days in hell and he felt physical pain in his chest. How could she even look at him after this? She surely blamed him and that's why she constantly kept him at arm's length. He felt lucky she let him anywhere near her.

He kept his emotions together until the evidence photos loaded and they detailed her bare body covered in burns. He focused on the key shaped burn just above her hip, the one he felt that night in her apartment. He felt prepared for those, because he was aware of their presence, but he wasn't prepared for the photos of cigarette burns. He couldn't breathe. He was sure he was having a panic attack. He felt dizzy and nauseous. Before he knew it he was puking in Noah's bathroom. Choking and crying, he was glad she was on the other side of her bedroom wall so she wouldn't witness his total emotional breakdown. Memories of a conversation outside the courthouse played through his mind. I wish I could trust you Elliot. Or you haven't asked me one question about my life…" He was so caught up in his own grief he never considered the possibility of something so painfully life altering happening in his absence. Outside the courthouse she practically begged him to ask, and he shut her down. The weight of regret intensified.

He needed to calm down, but he hadn't finished the damn files. He needed to know the truth, and he wasn't not going to make her relive every detail for his sake. In his mind, she never needed to do anything for him ever again.

He got up and kept clicking through the file, eventually moving to the next. His temper flared when he realized he had gotten her again. How the hell did anyone let this happen not once, but twice? He ran to the bathroom to vomit again, the details of the attempted rape, guilt eating him alive. Then the Russian roulette. Even the idea of her beautiful gentle hands placing a gun to her head sent him over the top with emotion. He began to realize how incredibly close he was to living in a world where she no longer existed.

He tried to keep down the noises of him sobbing, not wanting her to investigate the noise. He wanted to die. He wanted to disappear, but his disappearance would hurt her more, and he vowed to never hurt her again. If she ever found a way to forgive him, he was certain he would never forgive himself.