000-

"A lot of it was a blur really. I don't know if it was the alcohol, drugs, or my own desperate desire to forget, but a lot of my memory is…hazy." But sometimes it was nightmarishly clear. "Um. My apartment." It was difficult to make the words. Words couldn't really describe what she experienced. What she lived through.

"Take your time Liv." He soothed, "I'm not going anywhere."

She nodded even though he couldn't see her. "He, uh, he liked to burn his victims." The memory of white hot metal searing into her skin took over, and for a moment she felt stuck there. She was duct taped to a chair and couldn't get free.

"Liv," when she didn't answer he tried her full name, "Olivia."

Her eyes opened. She hadn't even realized she had shut them in the first place. "I'm here." She tried to reassure him. "I'm okay."

"No. You're not… I need…." He suddenly shied away from the request.

"What, El?" She prodded.

His voice was deep but raspy, "I…I need to see you. Can I see you?"

She thought for a moment. She wasn't sure she could do this when his eyes could clock every minute action. It was hard enough to tell the story with her eyes closed, but she shied away from the idea of him watching her inevitable meltdown. "I don't know…" she started to say.

"Hey," he kept his voice just above a low rumble. "Listen, I… I need to see you…" she heard him swallow deeply, "I just. I need to see your face. I need to know that you're real. That you're…you're okay." He hesitated but then added, "Maybe…I don't know…maybe if you can see me it will be easier…stupid maybe, but I don't want you to…to get lost in it all, and…I can't be there in person," he sounded a little defeated. "And I want to be there for you for this. Please," he wasn't even trying to hide the desperation in his voice. "Please."

She wanted to say no. She was a mess. She looked a mess, but part of her wondered if he was right. If she could see him. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't get lost in it all. Maybe. "Okay," she breathed out.

The distinctive ring of a FaceTime call chimed and she kept her eyes closed as the screen mirrored her back. She didn't need to see herself right now. She knew she already was a wreck. She touched the answer button from memory. She didn't open her eyes until she heard his voice.

"There you are, beautiful."

Normally, she might find the statement cheesy, maybe even a little patronizing, but not from him. He said it with complete sincerity and devotion. She felt more tears escaping her already tired eyes.

He looked about as wrecked as she felt. Same reddened eyes, same tear stained cheeks. His eyes watched her nervously, "Are you sure you want to do this? We don't have to do this tonight…if it's too much."

She appreciated the out, but she'd come this far, and she didn't want to restart this hell next week. "No no," she insisted. "I need to do this now, or I won't do it at all."

He nodded in understanding, even if his eyes still seemed unsure. "I love you." His voice was deep and sincere. "I love you so much."

She swallowed the lump that seemed to be permanently lodged in her throat. "Okay," she whispered softly. Her stomach flipped with nerves when she decided what she wanted to do.

She kept the camera focused on her, but she slipped off the bed. She propped her phone up against a book resting on her dresser and took a step back. His observed her quizzically, and she asked. "Can you see me okay?" She swallowed her nerves back.

"Yeah," he still seemed confused, but didn't question her.

"Some…some things are easier to show than to tell," she said nervously. She turned away from him. It would be easier for her to not have to look him in the eye. At least not at first. Plus, there were only a couple scars that worked around her back. Her hands shook as she began pulling up her shirt. "Okay," she said more to herself than to him. In one fluid movement she removed her shirt.

She wasn't sure what she expected. To be honest she never actually pictured this moment. Showing him her scars had always been tucked away into the filing cabinet marked "impossibilities" in the back of her mind.

She continued facing away, but she began to speak, "I don't actually have many on my back. Apparently those didn't, uh, those didn't elicit enough pain." She let out a long breath and reminded herself that she could do this. "He was a sadist, in the worst way." She couldn't face him yet. She felt like once she turned around, his every fantasy would be marred. Marred by a marked body, no longer perfect.

She could almost hear him holding his breath, waiting for her next move, her next explanation. She ran her hand down the curve of her waist, letting her fingers slide over her soft skin until she felt the thick lines of damaged skin. "I was pretty out of it for uh, for this one." She let her fingers brush the length of it. "I'm not entirely sure what he used for it. I think," she hesitated, "I think it was a fork maybe." She swallowed. "His MO included burning and branding his victims…so um most of these, uh, burn scars come from," she wanted to dissociate from the words coming out her mouth. She wanted to forget. god, she would give anything to forget. "Um yeah. They are from random metal items he found around the apartment. He would heat them on the stove."

Her fingers drifted lower until they rested right above the elastic of her sleep shorts. The scar dipped beneath her pant line, but he would get a good enough idea from the shape anyway. "This one was a key. I actually have a few key marks. This one is the one that's faded the most."

"Liv," he breathed out her name. It seemed like an unconscious exhale rather than any intention to communicate.

She needed to turn around. Now he knew there were scars. He knew what they were and where they came from. She wanted to think the worst part was over. From here on out it was just some demented game of show and tell, right? She sighed internally. If only. If only the scars were the worst thing to happen. One more breath. Then she turned.

-000-

He wasn't sure what he expected this conversation to be about, but even his wildest nightmares he never thought of this.

Each breath he took felt like a stab in the chest. He knew he was shaking despite his attempts to remain calm. He didn't want her to stop. He didn't want her to clam up, and he certainly didn't want her to emotionally take care of him. If he lost his shit that's exactly what she'd do. It's what she had always done. So he kept his eyes on the screen, blinked back the moisture in his eyes, and let her continue.

She stood silently, and he knew she was preparing to turn. He never thought…he never thought the first time he would see Olivia topless would be over a FaceTime call with her trying to explain the marks on her her bare body.

When she started to turn he started to panic. He had one shot at this, one chance to say the right thing. Turns out, his impulsive response might have been the right one.

She kept her eyes tightly shut as she waited for his reaction. But all he could think was she was so goddamn beautiful, and all he wanted was to reach through the phone so he could touch the skin of the woman he had dreamed about for so long. He couldn't keep the words in his mouth. "F-k," he breathed out. "Liv, you're, god..you're so beautiful."

His response must have been the right one, because her eyes slowly opened, and her body began to relax. He wondered how long she had worried about this. How long had she worried he would be repulsed by her scars? He wished she could know that scars or no, she was Olivia, his Olivia, and he wanted her. He always wanted her.

She bit her lip nervously, and stepped closer to the camera. "They uh, they do look better. " She brushed her fingers over a faded scar. "They were pink for a long time, and I would see them, uh, everytime I looked in the mirror, you know. It's not so bad now. They aren't quite as noticeable as they once were."

He wiped at the tears starting to pool in his eyes. He resisted the urge to apologize, to say he was sorry. Sorry for everything she'd been through. Sorry would change nothing. Sorry…sorry wouldn't save her from an experience that happened over a decade ago. "Liv, I…" there weren't any words. "I wish…"

She knew what he wished. She certainly wished the same thing. "I know El. Me too." She sighed and straightened up with resolve. Her brown eyes sought his, and he hoped she could read the love and adoration there. God he loved her. Whatever she interpreted from his gaze gave her confidence to power through.

Her fingers brushed over a long snake-like scar across her belly, "Wire hanger," she said simply. She pulled the waistband of her shorts, and he couldn't help the sudden flood of desire that flooded over him. He was sitting here, watching Olivia take off pieces of clothing while running her hands all over her body. It would be his goddamn fantasy if they weren't working through the most traumatic event of her life.

Her waistband shifted about a half inch revealing another key shaped scar. "Key. That one hurt." She let her waistband settle into its original position. "He told me…" he watched her suck in a breath, and he waited. "He told me that any man who'd be with me would know that he had been there first." That got him. That pushed him a little too far. He impulsively stood up, but promptly sat down. He wanted to run. Not from her, never from her. He wanted to run from the reality of what he left her to suffer. Without him.

"Sorry," his voice cracked. "I just." He couldn't explain. He didn't want to admit that he was currently living his worst nightmare. She was hurt. She was badly hurt. And he didn't do anything to stop it. He was in agony.

"It's okay," she soothed. He hated himself again. Just as he thought, she would try to emotionally take care of him while she suffered through the most horrifying event of her life.

"No. Liv. I'm sorry," he pushed the heels of his hands against his leaking eyes, "God, don't." He wasn't making sense. He knew he wasn't. He groaned.

Her voice remained calm and soothing even in her emotion filled state. "I need you to breathe Elliot."

He insisted on a video chat to ground her, he had no idea that in the end she would be the one grounding him. His heart pounded furiously, and he knew he was on the verge of a panic attack. Her voice remained calm. "Elliot slow it down. Look at me," she said with some authority. His eyes snapped up to hers, and he couldn't stop the tears that now freely ran down his cheeks. Those warm brown eyes held his, and he was taken back to every time her gaze brought him back to earth, cooled his temper, made him better. Those eyes watched him as he followed her cues and slowed his breathing. The sobs rippling through his body began to ease. All the while he kept his gaze firmly locked on her.

"You okay?" She finally asked.

"No." He admitted, "I should be okay. You shouldn't have to take care of me right now."

"El, I've dealt with this for a long time. I hate talking about it. It hurts, but it happened. You are hearing this all for the first time. Go easy on yourself."

He gulped back more emotion. "Okay," he rasped. "Go on."

She opened her mouth to continue her explanation, but he needed to say something first, "He was wrong you know."

"About what?"

"When I look at you, I don't see evidence of him written all over your body. I see you, Olivia. I see you, and I love you. I love you so damn much."