I wrote this chapter. Hated it. Tone and vibe was all off. Wrote it again. I wanted to keep that same gray feeling, and continue the minimal dialogue found in this piece. Good? Maybe?

You can run, but only so far

I escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave

But if it's okay with you, it's okay with me

We could call it even…Tis the damn season.

Taylor Swift

He knew she was gone before he opened his eyes. He had always been subconsciously aware of her positioning in relation to his. The six sense went both ways, and it saved their lives on more than one occasion.

He sighed and rolled over. As expected the sheets were wrinkled and the comforter tossed aside. He laid his hand over the space where she slept. It was cold. She must have left awhile ago. Normally he didn't sleep that heavy, but he pulled an all-nighter so he could make the arrests he needed.

For a moment he just laid there, not certain what he should do. When it came to the job, he and Olivia couldn't be more in sync, but their personal relationship had always been fraught with misunderstandings and indecision.

He rolled onto his back and pressed a fisted hand to his forehead. He hadn't pressured her last night. He hadn't pushed. He let her lead, and she had been completely clear about what she wanted. He closed his eyes, and let a perfect parade of memories replay through his mind. She made a choice last night, and now he worried she might regret what she had chosen.

Maybe she regretted him.

A vicious sort of fear gripped his chest, pushing him into a sitting position. He breathed slowly in an attempt to drop his rising heart rate. What if it doesn't work out? Last year she gave her deepest fears a voice, but he didn't share that fear. He knew, without a doubt, that if they gave this thing a shot it would work. But what if it didn't?

As he lay in bed, alone, after a perfect night, he realized that he couldn't force her to choose him. He couldn't make this thing work unless she gave him a chance. She needed to talk to him. She had to stop running.

-000-

The snow from the previous storm mixed with the dirt and grime of the street, making a pasty sort of slush that clinged to his truck's tires as he mindlessly made the drive to Olivia's apartment. The air felt gray, and complemented the dark cloud overnight over him.

The previous night he had felt blissfully warm, but in her absence he felt the chill of the January cold.

He felt half crazed as he pounded on her door. At the beginning of his drive over he felt completely rational. Not so much anymore. He needed answers. He needed to know when she would forgive him for his goddamn past mistakes, and let them be everything he wanted them to be.

The faint sound of footsteps met his ears and he silently prayed Noah wouldn't be home for whatever confrontation was to come. The flick of the lock sent him back to the year previous. Nothing sounded quite as ominous as the thumping snap of a deadbolt closing, signaling the end of a desperate conversation.

Liv?

Elliot, I want to. I want to but I can't.

She left him in the dimmed hallway with a broken sort of hope. She never said no.

I'm not ready for this.

She never said no, but she left him with the heart wrenching promise of maybe . Maybe, if he could prove himself. Maybe if he could love her enough. Maybe, if she could forgive him.

And last night he thought, he hoped, she had taken him across that sought after bridge of forgiveness. But then he woke up, alone, in his own twisted sheets, with only the lingering smell of her perfume, and a dream of her warm supple body pressed passionately against his.

He waited at the door. She would check who it was before opening it. Sometime in his decade-long absence she became more cautious, less reckless. He thought maybe it was because she found Noah, but he knew that wasn't the only reason.

Ten years ago she conquered a demon. One of many who left her changed. Scarred. She never spoke his name. They never truly spoke about the events that took place in her apartment, a beach house, and a granery. But he knew.

It wasn't until he came home he heard the story. Never as one cohesive narrative, rather, pieces of echoes drifting through the halls at 1PP.

Sometimes her name was spoken reverently, like someone speaking of a saint.

Captain Benson. Good God. It was a miracle she survived him once, let alone twice.

Sometimes it was spoken with a sort of high and mighty disdain.

Benson beat a man nearly to death. And they made her captain. Police brutality at its finest.

Sometimes she was mentioned in scoffing disbelief.

Insisted the bastard didn't rape her. No way he didn't. After all, the sick psycho had her for four days.

Like the captain of SVU wouldn't be able to own her own trauma. Her own life experience. No. Olivia was a badass. If the monster had raped her, she would have made sure he burned.

One day someone said his name. William Lewis. With a name he could look up a file. He spent the following days in what felt like spirally nightmare. He was never squeamish, but the photos left him vomiting into the nearest wastebasket…several times.

He sat on the knowledge for a long time, constantly debating on what he needed to do, or what he should say. He finally asked Fin what he should do, what he should say, after all, he had been there.

Nothing. If she wants ya to know then she'll say somethin'. His eyes darkened. Don't drag her through hell again so you can get answers you might not deserve.

So he never asked. He sat with the knowledge forever smoldering in his gut. Maybe this was his penance. Knowing the hell she suffered, and not being able to do anything about it. She suffered, and in a way, he let it happen.

Last night as his hands roamed over her body he occasionally felt a raised scar. A reminder of her brush with the devil. As his tongue grazed over the silver indents left by a lit cigarette, he had to push back tears. Hee body was perfect and beautiful. The angry reminders of the past didn't deter his affection. The opposite ended up being true. His heart swelled with pride for the woman who always held his heart. She always had been a beautifully strong badass, but her natural fighting spirit had blossomed into a sort of goddess he felt almost unworthy to touch.

He lightly leaned his head against the door. She had seen him. She knew he was the one standing on the other side of the door. He could almost see her, hand on the doorknob, beautiful lip bit between her teeth, trying to decide if she wanted to let him in.

"Liv," he spoke through the door. He didn't know what to say, mostly because he didn't quite know what went wrong in the early hours of the morning. So, instead of a long winding explanation of his presence on her doorstep he simply asked, "Liv, please?"

Time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires

Now I'm missing your smile, hear me out

We could just ride around

And the road not taken looks real good now

And it always leads to you…

Taylor Swift