She didn't want to talk about it. Honestly, she didn't even want to think about it. She made the decision early in the week to tell him, but from that moment on her stomach churned.

She met with Lindstrom, hoping he could ease some of the nerves, and the conversation helped a little, but she still felt like she was coming out of her skin with anxiety.

Lindstrom agreed that Elliot needed to know what happened, and they really couldn't pursue a relationship until he understood exactly what happened in his absence. If they jumped into a relationship and he found out from some other source…she internally shuddered. No. He had to hear it from her. It would hurt him. It would hurt her. But it was a mountain they had to climb, and she only hoped he was ready to scale it with her.

The night of their normal call she sent Noah to a friend's house for the night. This was…it was something she couldn't do with her precious boy in the next room. It was something she had to push through without well meaning interruptions. Once she started, she needed to finish. It wasn't a story to tell half of and save the rest for another day. It had to be done, and it had to be done completely.

She skipped dinner, knowing she wouldn't be able to stomach anything anyway, and she hoped the empty stomach would discourage any actual vomiting. The evening ticked by slowly while she sat alone in her quiet apartment.

She couldn't decide where she'd feel more comfortable talking, and after an absurdly long deliberation she decided on her bedroom, knowing she would be more comfortable there. She flipped on every light in the apartment, something she hadn't done in years, before entering her room.

She sat on her bed and her phone sat next to her. It almost looked menacing. Her fingers unconsciously drifted to a raised scar near her right hip. The distinct jagged edges of a key became apparent as her fingers lightly pressed over its surface.

She sighed. That wasn't even the worst one, or the worst place. She long accepted the scars as a part of her, a part of her life's journey. They were faded and white, much less visible than the angry reds and pinks they used to be. Only a few, like the key, stood out in glaring detail.

She felt more than saw the curled scar made by a twisted wire hanger. It sat high on her left breast with a constellation of cigarette burns flanking its sides. That one had hurt, but others hurt more.

She closed her eyes and silently gathered courage. She wanted to do this. She needed to do this. Last week she outright admitted that she loved him, and he had done the same. He loved her, and she believed, she hoped, that nothing could change that.

With a final deep inhale she dialed his number.

-000-

She was nervous. Their small talk felt strained, and their normally easy banter was nonexistent. She sounded tense, and he knew if he could see her she would look tense. It meant something was coming, and he had a feeling it was going to hurt.

A lull in the conversation fell early in the conversation. He swallowed the nervous lump forming in his throat. "What do you want to talk about tonight Liv?" He knew he sounded more timid than normal. It was his default response to her obvious tension.

She chuckled ironically, "I uh. I've been worrying about this all week. If I'm honest I've worried about this for…forever." The last word came out in a long exhale.

"You can tell me anything. It's not going to change anything between you and me." He tried his best at reassurance. "I love you. I've always loved you. That will never change." He knew nothing could change how he felt, how he saw her, how he loved her. But maybe it wasn't about how he felt about her…maybe it was about how she felt about him, or even worse it might change the way he felt about himself. His tension began to match hers.

"This is…Elliot, this is something that…it's going to be hard for me to talk about and hard for you to hear. I want you to understand that."

"I get it. A lot of what we talked about had been difficult to stomach. I'm here. I'm not leaving. I want to hear it." Part of him worried about whether or not he actually wanted to hear it, but whether or not he wanted to, she deserved to get out whatever hellish experience held her bound."

"Okay," her voice sounded uncharacteristically quiet. It was unsettling. "Before I start." She sighed. "Before I start I need you…I need you to promise me something."

"Anything," he responded without missing a beat.

"Don't blame yourself. You are going to want to, but it wasn't your fault, and I've…I've come to grips with the fact that you missed this . I just…I'm worried that this will hurt you, and I can't…I can't have you do anything rash or stupid."

He really didn't like where this was going. His heart pounded, warning him of impending danger, or impending heartbreak. Whatever happened was bad, bad enough she worried about his response more than herself. He swallowed deeply. He could keep it together. He had to keep it together. He wouldn't hurt her with this. He could do what she asked.

"Okay. Just…just tell me Liv. It's clearly something I need to know so just…tell me what happened please." He knew she was just nervous but the agony of wondering was already killing him.

He heard her take a few long deep breaths before starting in. "It was kind of random. How we ran across him. No one was in the office. Amanda had her dog at the park, and she ended up chasing down this guy we thought was just some pervy flasher. We all thought she was crazy for calling us in about him, but…"

"He wasn't just a flasher…" Elliot did not like the direction this was already taking, and he had a feeling it was going to get so, so much worse.

"No. He wasn't," she said softly.

-000-

She was fairly certain she wouldn't sleep tonight. The threat of nightmares or flashbacks was all too real. She already felt the familiar nausea creeping into her gut alongside a pounding heart. She hated that she couldn't ever quite banish her body's autonomic response to even the thought of him. It sucked. He was long dead, but his actions still found ways to creep into her life. Sometimes he wormed into even the most intimate parts of her life.

And now…now she had to explain the extent of her brutalization at the hands of a sadistic monster to the man she loved. The man she loved long before the nightmare occurred and long after.and she knew…promises aside, she knew he would find himself as guilty as the monster himself…and she wasn't sure how he'd fair in the aftermath.

"He'd burned his fingerprints off, that was our first indicator that something was…off. I could go into all the case details, but that's not really the point of me telling you all of this."

God. How many times did she lean into a suspect? Flirt to get information. How many times had she used herself as bait only to have Elliot yank her back into safety? But not this time. This time… this time no one stopped her from leaning too far over the edge. No one stopped her from getting too close to the flame. No, none of it was her fault. She could avoid Victim blaming with others, but herself? She could never quite let go of some responsibility over what happened. After all, she knew better . She knew. She knew she was playing with fire, but she did it anyway. And she got burned. God. She got more than burned. She got scorched until she was an unrecognizable charred shell of what she had been. William Lewis held all responsibility for his actions, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't help thinking that if she had been a little less reckless, then she would have been safe. And she would never admit that she wished Elliot had been there to keep her from leaning too far over the cliff. She didn't blame him, but God…God she wished he'd been there. For more reason than one, she wished he'd never left.

"Um. I pushed him in interrogation." She felt sick over the memory. "I uh, I played into his fantasy a little, maybe if I had backed off…"

Right on cue he jumped in, "There is NO way whatever happened was your fault," he said firmly.

"I know," she acquiesced in spite of her secret reservations. She continued, "I could sense he was beginning to fixate on me, but I leaned in anyway. I mean, I was certain he'd go to prison, and I was certain I'd be safe." She swallowed her nerves and decided to just rip the bandaid off. "He was released on a technicality. Cap sent me home with strict orders to stay there for two days. Uh, I was pissed about everything, and maybe I was distracted by that, I don't really know." Inhale. Exhale. Breathe. "He uh, he broke into my apartment. He was waiting for me to come home." She heard his sharp inhale, but she couldn't stop. If she stopped she'd close back up and never talk about it again. She couldn't do that. She couldn't stop.

"He…he had me for four days, and every minute of those four days was pure and utter hell. It was hell, and I wasn't sure if I would live or die. All I knew was…god Elliot… all I wanted was you. For four damn days I wanted my partner. I wanted my best friend. And I don't blame you Elliot. I don't. Once the thought was in his head he was going to do what he was going to do. I just... I wanted someone I loved," she couldn't stop the sob. "I loved you, El. It was you I wanted. I think…I gave up on you after that…I figured if you were ever going to come back, it would have been to save me…from him."

She had to take a breather. She was certain her words were unintelligible through her tears, but apparently he understood every word because after a moment of silence, he asked, "What did he do, Olivia?" His voice sounded unsure, like he knew he wouldn't like the answer. "Olivia," his voice was uncharacteristically soft. "I need to know what happened." She heard him take a shaky breath. "I need to know what he did to you."