These chapters took me a little longer to put together. The WL arch is a rough one to write. It's emotionally draining, particularly when I'm trying to write something that feels emotionally authentic.

She continued her explanations. Her fingers drifted over scar after scar. Cigarette burns. Assorted cutlery. Wire hangers. Elliot sat quietly. He breathed his way through a few different explanations, but to his credit he didn't get mad. He didn't storm off. He sat. He let her speak, and nothing else could have been more validating.

It had only been an hour, but it felt like an eternity. She had finished explaining the very last visible scar, and she stood cold and very exposed in the middle of her bedroom. She was exhausted, and they had only really talked about two days of the four day nightmare. The first nightmare. She wasn't even sure how to tell him there was a sequel to the first nightmare.

Olivia reached for her shirt, and tossed it over her head, feeling a little more secure covered up. When she picked up her phone, those blue eyes focused on her, and she felt a little breathless. "Liv. Thanks for showing me."

She bit her lip, not sure what to say. She nodded in return, and sought further comfort in the warmth of her bed. She kept the phone focused on her face and took a moment to recover from the first wave of the story.

He mimicked her position, laying on his side, his eyes never leaving her image in the phone. They laid silently for a time, resting from the drama of it all. Finally Elliot decided to ask, "Why didn't anyone call, or come over Liv?"

She knew that was the crux of his guilt. He knew he would have called. He would have come over. He wouldn't have left her alone. But he was gone.

She closed her eyes. After all the painful things they talked about, this still stung. "I…I don't have a lot of people El, I never really did…" she sighed. "I had my squad, but they had their own lives. I had a boyfriend at the time," no need to mention who at this point. "I thought for sure he would, uh, come home, but he called." She swallowed back stomach bile. "He called to say he got called into work and wouldn't be home for a couple days." She closed her eyes, suddenly struck with the vivid recollection of that feeling of hopelessness. The moment she realized no one was coming for her. "I knew no one would notice I was gone. Not for a couple days at least. And by that point I thought I would be dead."

-000-

If the conversation hadn't already wrecked him, this part about did him in. He would have called. He would have come over. He would have walked her up. He would have made her blink her lights. He would have kept her safe.

Instead she was at the mercy of a psychopath. For four days.

He wanted to encourage her along, support her in the attempt to share the most traumatic experience of her life, but he wasn't sure how much more he could take.

He would have gladly taken her place. The physical pain would be infinitely preferable to the stabbing pain he felt now. If he could take her place he would. If he could spare her the memories, he would. Problem was, he couldn't do either of those things. So he just laid there, wading through his own personal hell, as the woman he loved, the woman he had always loved, told him how she had been brutally tortured and assaulted over the course of four days.

She told him about being stuffed in the trunk, and her intense fear of closed in spaces. She told him about tightly folding herself onto the car floor, hoping the tarp would cover enough to save the life of the patrolman who pulled them over. It didn't matter. The officer died anyway. Finally, she detailed the events of the beach house. And he wished he was dead.

-000-

The beach house. She hesitated. She knew she needed to be honest. Brutally honest. But she didn't want to hurt him. She could tell he was barely hanging on. He kept his face as emotionless as possible, but she knew him. She knew he was dying inside. She just hoped that when this was all said and done he would find a way to be okay. She somehow did.

"I was pretty sure I was going to die there. Then he asked me…" she bit her lip. This would hurt. To this day, the conversation echoes through her mind, often shaking her loose fears. She'd told this story before, but she knew even the threat of sexual assault would send Elliot over the edge. But she couldn't skim past it. "I want…" she wasn't exactly what she wanted. She wanted him to stay calm and not go through the roof, but she couldn't expect that from him. She believed him when he said he loved her, and Elliot would die before seeing the ones he loved get hurt. She wanted him to be okay, but she knew she couldn't ask that of him. She had to let him feel this, process, and move on. If he couldn't, we'll, then they could never move forward. "I want you to know," she swallowed deeply, "when all of this was over, when all the medical exams were complete. I wasn't sure you know. I was so out of it so much of the time. There was no way to be 100% sure you know…" she was beating around the bush.

"What are you saying Liv," his voice remained soft even in his confusion.

She spit it out. "My rape kit came back inconclusive. I've relived those four days over and over, and I'm nearly certain he…he didn't rape me."

She could hear his emotion filled breathing, but she couldn't bear to watch his face right now. "Liv," he started, but there weren't words.

"At the beach house he threatened it, you know, over and over again. He asked me if I wanted," she pinched her eyes shut and pulled. Breath in through her nose. "He asked if I wanted my clothes cut off or burned off." Her stomach clenched at the memory. "But he just…it was all threats but no follow through…"

"No follow through?" His voice cracked, and his volume stayed at a low rumble. "Liv he beat the hell out of you. He tortured you. He drugged you. I'd say that was…god…that was enough follow through."

This time she pulled herself together enough to fix her eyes straight on the phone screen. "But he did not rape me." She accentuated every word, making it clear. The man hurt her in every way possible. He left psychological damage that still reverberated through her life more than a decade later, but he did not take that from her, and she made sure he never even got the satisfaction of saying that he did.

She held his gaze firmly, and he nodded. She continued. "He…" her heart pounded. She wasn't sure if she could make it through the next part without melting into a puddle of tears. This hurt so damn much. What was coming would hurt him so damn much. "He liked a good monologue. He started talking about who I'd want to see again…you know, before I died. He brought up a few different people. The usuals, mom, dad, boyfriend, but," she hated this, "it was like he knew. I don't know how he knew, but he did. He knew," she covered her mouth to choke back the sob rising in her chest. Even now, the person she would want to see before she died was the same. Elliot. It had always been Elliot. "He knew that I didn't want to see…to see them." She breathed in, attempting to calm her emotion wracked body. "I think he knew…he knew I wanted to see you."

"Oh God." He didn't use it as an expletive. It was true anguish. A cry for his God to end his suffering, and in this case, she understood the feeling.

"He was a master manipulator, you know, he…he just knew… he knew there was someone I wanted, but couldn't have. Someone I wanted, but shouldn't. Someone I loved." His choked back cry hurt her own soul. She avoided all of this because it would hurt. It would be excruciating. For both of them.

"El," she said softly, "there are things I…I have to say. Things that I need to say so I can let it go."

"I understand." His voice shook.

"I don't want to hurt you," her eyes watered, and her stomach turned. She loved this man, and she felt as if she was torturing him with every stabbing confession.

"Olivia," her heart pounded as his deep voice spoke her full name. "You didn't deserve any of this, and I…I… God…I should have been there for you. I deserve this. All of this."

"I don't know about that," she whispered.

"I do," he confirmed. "I need to hear it, and Liv? I think you need to say it."

She turned her face into her pillow for a moment. The pillowcase absorbed the moisture leaking from her eyes. When she finally felt ready she lifted her face from the pillow and breathed deeply. "That was…that was when I gave up on you. I knew you were never coming back. Whatever we had…whatever I thought we were, was dead and gone. You were a ghost and I finally let you go."

A weight lifted from her shoulders. She finally spoke her truth, but she was terrified over the cost.

-000-

Elliot never thought he was a perfect man. He tried, but he fell short. Frequently. He knew he had a temper. He crossed too many professional lines to count. He wasn't the perfect father and God knew he wasn't the perfect husband. He loved a woman he shouldn't for almost half his life. He should have expected some sort of consequence. He just wished God would have left her out of it.

"I swear to God Liv. If I knew…I would have never left." His voice was strained.

"El, it was national news. How could you not know? Someone had to have told you." He sensed the anger and hurt behind that question, and he wished he had an answer.

"I…I never knew anything about it. I cut most ties with department when I left. No one would have known how to get a hold of me. I swear I never heard anything about it."

He wished he had. He would have taken the first flight home. He would have found her, and the bastard would be dead. He would have, but he never knew.

Then the next thought brought rising anger, to the already stabbing pain in his chest. The kids. They had to know. There was no way they missed it. How the hell could they know and not tell him? How could they know, and not see Olivia afterwards?

He abruptly stood, and the camera shook and fell over in the bed. Olivia was no staring at his ceiling, but he couldn't sit. He had to move. He had to scream. He had to yell. He had to do something because he couldn't keep all of it in anymore.

"El?" Olivia's voice calmly echoed from the phone.

He couldn't let her believe he left her with this. Again. "I'm here," he croaked. "I. I need a minute." The pain in his chest intensified. It felt like someone stood on his sternum, threatening to crack his ribs.

"Okay." She didn't ask for any clarification about what he was doing off screen, but it wasn't all to interesting any way. He paced. His thoughts streamed in and out like a runaway train, never stopping, never pausing. He didn't know.

He leaned his back against the wall and slid to the floor, dropping his head into his hands. She gave up on him. He couldn't hold back his coughing sob. He never came for her. His head pounded, and his eyes stung. The one time she needed him, he didn't show. He deserved the hell he was living. She paid the price for his own fear and selfishness. No wonder she always held back. He never came for her.

-000-

She could hear him, but she wasn't sure how to coax him back on screen. She knew this was going to be horrible. She knew that it could potentially alter the trajectory of their relationship. It could ruin everything. But he needed to know.

She laid in silence, just listening to him let his emotions somewhere off screen. She wanted to be there. She'd give anything to be there. After some time, she heard the shaking sobs slow into deep uneven breaths.

"El?" She tried again.

"I'm here." He sounded completely wrecked.

"Come talk to me," her voice remained soft, but also pleading. She needed to see him. She needed to know that they could get through this.

The pull she always subconsciously knew she had on him, lifted him from the floor. The camera finally jostled around, and she could finally see his face. He looked beaten. He looked completely demolished. "Hey," his voice came out a pained whisper.

"I'm okay Elliot." She tried to reassure him. Even with all the pain and horror, she survived, and he needed to acknowledge that victory.

"I might not be," he admitted, and her heart swelled with pride lover his honest communication.

"You will be," she promised.

"How could no one tell me? My kids, Liv. How could my kids never say a word?" He swallowed deeply. "How could they leave you completely alone?"

She wanted to answer they were just following his example, but that was a bite she held back. "Maybe you should ask them." She sighed, "I'm sure they have their reasons, and they were just college kids at the time."

"No excuse," he shook his head. "You were part of our family. And I…I know I left…I know that they were just following my lead, but," he tightly closed his eyes, "I had hoped they would check in with you, make sure you were okay. Do something." He opened his eyes, "but they did nothing," he said bitterly. "None of us did a damn thing for you."

"Remember in the beginning I told you not to blame yourself…and not to do anything stupid," she reminded him.

"Yeah that was before…before I knew." His voice held an incomprehensible level of remorse.

"And now you know. I had to move on, and you will have to too. I refuse to spend any more time than I have to on that waste of a life. I refuse to let him ruin the one relationship that meant anything to me." She felt tears stinging her eyes again. "Don't let him ruin us. Please."

He hesitated. He paused. She wasn't entirely sure how he would respond, but he was taking a damn long time processing what she said. Finally he vehemently said, "I won't. He doesn't get to take anything else away from you…from us." The intensity in those stormy eyes gave her chills. She wished he were with her. She wished she could kiss him with all the passionate intensity of the moment, but he was somewhere else, and the distance never felt more defined.

He startled her when he asked, "How'd you get free?"

"I wiggled a bar loose from an iron frame bed." Hee eyes dropped away from the phone. She hated this part. She hated that she lost control. She hated what the beast had made her. "I subdued him, but he just kept taunting me and taunting me." She didn't go into how she knew what Elliot would have done in the situation, what she wished he was there to do. She paused before she said, "I saved my own ass, and beat him within an inch of his life."

She heard the pride in his voice when he said, "That's my girl."

Okay. I know the fact she beat the crap out of Lewis is something she totally struggled with after the fact, but I'm fully in support of her actions, and I'm positive Elliot would have been too.