HOW ARE YOU GUYS!?!?

Hope you are very good!

Well, lizzie is at Olivia's, eliot is losing his mind and Olivia is worried.

HERE WE GOOO!!


Olivia Benson

The smell of coffee and bacon fills my kitchen, warm and familiar, wrapping around me like a damn security blanket. The pan sizzles as I flip the pancakes, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I'm not thinking about Eliot fucking Stabler.

I'm thinking about my girls.

Lizzie.

Erica.

I like the way that sounds.

Like it's always been the three of us.

Like we're a family.

I hear little feet padding across the floor just before I feel two tiny hands grab my shirt from behind. "Mama, is the food ready yet?"

I turn to find Erica standing there, her messy curls sticking in every direction, blue eyes wide with impatience.

Like she's starving.

Like I haven't literally been feeding her since the day she was born.

I tap her nose with the spatula. "Five minutes, Gremlin."

Erica scrunches her face. "That's forever."

Lizzie walks in, smirking. "It's just pancakes, kid."

Erica turns to her dramatically. "Yeah, but I'm hungry."

Lizzie shrugs. "Same."

Erica sighs, as if deeply betrayed. "You're supposed to be on my side."

Lizzie ruffles her hair. "Nah, I'm on Olivia's side."

I smirk. "Smart kid."

Erica gasps. "Betrayal!"

She throws herself onto the couch dramatically, like she's physically wounded.

Lizzie and I exchange a look.

Then we burst out laughing.

God, I love this.

I love them.

I plate the pancakes and bring them to the table, watching as Erica practically vibrates with excitement.

She's always been a food-motivated little demon.

Lizzie takes a seat next to her, rolling her eyes but smiling. I watch them, my chest tightening with something too big to name.

They look so natural together.

Like sisters.

Lizzie reaches over, sneaking a piece of bacon from Erica's plate. Erica gasps in outrage, swatting at her hand.

"Thief!"

Lizzie smirks. "Survival of the fittest."

Erica glares. "I'm telling Mama."

Lizzie turns to me. "Hey, Olivia, am I in trouble?"

I sip my coffee. "Absolutely."

Erica beams, victorious.

Lizzie shakes her head. "Snitch."

Erica sticks her tongue out.

I swear to God, this kid is more Stabler than Stabler himself.

After breakfast, Erica darts off to her room to grab something to show Lizzie.

The second she's gone, I turn to Lizzie.

And I don't know why I say it, but I do.

"Thank you."

Lizzie blinks. "For what?"

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "For being here. For her." I glance toward Erica's bedroom door. "I had a lot of doubts about giving Eliot a chance to be her father, but… seeing you with her, it makes me think maybe it was worth it."

Lizzie hesitates, something flickering in her eyes.

Then—quietly—

"Are you ever gonna listen to him?"

I stiffen. "Lizzie—"

"I'm not saying you have to forgive him," she rushes to clarify. "I just think… you deserve answers, Olivia. I mean, yeah, he left. And yeah, that was fucked up. But don't you want to know why?"

I exhale sharply, staring at my coffee.

Of course, I do.

Of course, I do.

But if I let him explain—if I let him in—then that means I have to feel it.

And I don't know if I can.

Not yet.

Lizzie studies me. "You don't have to decide right now."

I nod. "I know."

And that's all I say.

Because before I can say anything else—

Erica comes barreling back in, grinning.

"I found it!"

She skids to a stop in front of Lizzie, shoving something into her hands.

It's a little plastic badge.

Lizzie lifts an eyebrow. "What's this?"

Erica puffs out her chest. "Your honorary detective badge!"

Lizzie snorts. "Oh, yeah?"

Erica nods solemnly. "Mama said I don't gotta be a cop when I grow up, but if I was, I'd want you to be my partner."

Lizzie looks genuinely touched.

She meets my eyes.

And in that moment, I know.

No matter what happens with Eliot, no matter how messy or painful or fucked up it gets—

This?

This matters.

This is worth it.

Lizzie ruffles Erica's curls. "I'd be honored, kid."

Erica beams.

And for the rest of breakfast, we just laugh.

We tease.

We eat way too many pancakes.

And for a little while—just a little while—

We forget.

We forget about Lizzie's trauma.

We forget about Erica's missing father.

We forget about Eliot.

And it's perfect.


Eliot Stabler

Kathy parks the car outside Olivia's apartment and exhales like she's trying to push out more than just air. Frustration. Exhaustion. The kind of bone-deep weariness that comes from years of trying to keep up with me.

I get it.

I'm fucking exhausting.

Before I can reach for the door handle, she speaks.

"This fighting has to stop, El."

I freeze.

She turns to me, arms crossed, eyes sharp. "Lizzie's been through enough already. We can't keep throwing our shit on top of her pile."

I grit my teeth. "I'm not trying to fight—"

"Yes, you are," she cuts me off. "You're always trying to fight someone. If it's not me, it's Olivia. And if it's not Olivia, it's yourself."

I drag a hand down my face, staring out the window. "Kathy—"

"Just… stop, Eliot." Her voice softens, but it's not weak. Kathy Stabler has never been weak. "She's our daughter. She needs us, not our bullshit."

I sigh. "I know."

She holds my gaze, waiting for me to mean it.

And hell—maybe for the first time in a long time—I do.

I nod.

She nods back.

And just like that, a silent truce is formed.

It won't last forever.

Nothing ever does.

But for tonight, it's enough.

We knock, and Olivia opens the door looking like she just ran a marathon in her living room.

Her hair's a mess, her t-shirt is sticking to her collarbone, and her breathing is just a little too heavy.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say—

Oh, what the hell?

She tilts her head. "You two just gonna stand there or…?"

I blink. "Right. Yeah."

We step inside, and suddenly I do know better.

Because standing in the middle of the living room—clutching a Wii remote like it's a goddamn weapon—is Erica.

And next to her, equally determined, is Lizzie.

On the TV, a neon-colored dancer flails across the screen, demonstrating the next set of moves.

Lizzie and Erica are locked in a battle.

A Just Dance battle.

And from the look of it, Lizzie is losing.

Kathy lets out a surprised laugh. "What is happening right now?"

Lizzie glances up, spots us, and immediately drops the controller. "Crap."

"Language," Olivia and I say at the same time.

She ignores us, already moving toward her things.

Erica, on the other hand, doesn't care about her sister's shame.

She careens toward us at full speed, stopping just inches from Kathy. She tilts her head, squinting up at her like she's studying a rare animal.

Kathy blinks. "Uh—hi?"

Erica points dramatically. "You're very pretty. Like Lizzie."

Kathy actually looks startled. "Oh. Wow. Well… thank you."

I cross my arms, amused. "What, I don't get a compliment?"

Erica looks me dead in the eye. "You look tired."

Kathy snorts.

Olivia chokes on her water.

I stare at the tiny traitor I helped create. "Thanks, kid."

She grins, smug as hell.

Lizzie returns with her bag slung over her shoulder. "Alright, I'm ready."

And just like that, the mood shifts.

Because Erica realizes what's happening.

And she does not like it.

Her little face crumples. "You're leaving?"

Lizzie nods. "Yeah, kid. I gotta."

Erica crosses her arms. "No, you don't."

Olivia sighs. "Erica…"

But she's already gearing up for a full-blown tantrum.

"I don't want you to go!" Her lip trembles. "You just got here!"

Lizzie kneels in front of her, softer now. "I know. And I promise I'll come back soon."

Erica sniffs. "Pinkie promise?"

Lizzie links their fingers together without hesitation. "Pinkie promise."

Erica studies her carefully, then nods, satisfied.

Crisis averted.

Barely.

We move toward the door, but before we can step out, I turn to Olivia.

I don't know why.

I just do.

Maybe because I need to.

Maybe because I always do.

I clear my throat. "Thanks. For looking out for her."

Olivia meets my eyes. "It's no problem." A pause. "I'll always be there for Lizzie."

And fuck—that shouldn't sting.

But it does.

Because it's a reminder.

A reminder that she was there when I wasn't.

A reminder that she is there when I can't be.

I open my mouth, ready to say—something.

But before I can, Kathy steps forward.

And she does something that nearly knocks me off my damn feet.

She hugs Olivia.

Full-on, no-hesitation, hugs her.

Olivia stiffens for a second, caught off guard.

Then she relaxes.

Just barely.

"Thank you," Kathy murmurs. "For taking care of her."

And I swear to God—Olivia softens.

Just a little.

Just enough.

Kathy pulls back and offers a small smile. "I hope we can talk soon."

Neither Olivia nor I know if she means her and Olivia…

Or me and Olivia.

Olivia exhales, nods once. "Yeah."

And that's it.

That's all.

But for now, it's enough.

As we leave, Olivia calls after us.

"Hey."

We turn.

She leans against the doorway, arms crossed.

"Don't be too hard on her." Her gaze flickers to Lizzie. "She's been through enough."

I nod.

She nods back.

Then she's gone.

And so are we.


The living room feels colder than it should. Maybe it's the tension hanging between us, thick and suffocating. Lizzie sits on the couch, her posture rigid, eyes fixed on a spot somewhere beyond me. Kathy stands nearby, arms crossed, her expression a mix of concern and exhaustion.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady the storm brewing inside me. "Lizzie," I begin, my voice low but firm, "we need to talk about what happened."

She doesn't respond, doesn't even blink.

Kathy steps forward, her tone softer. "Honey, you can't just leave the house without telling us. Especially now, with everything that's going on."

Lizzie's gaze finally shifts, landing on her mother. There's a flicker of something—guilt, maybe?—but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. "I know," she murmurs.

I run a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "Do you? Because it sure as hell doesn't seem like it."

Kathy shoots me a warning glance, silently telling me to dial it back. I clench my jaw, swallowing the rest of the words threatening to spill out.

Lizzie's shoulders slump, and she nods. "I'm sorry," she says, but her voice is distant, like she's speaking from miles away.

Kathy sighs, glancing at the clock. "I have to pick Eli up from school," she says, grabbing her coat. She looks between us, hesitation clear in her eyes. "We'll talk more about this later."

I nod, and she leans in, pressing a quick kiss to Lizzie's temple before heading out the door.

The silence that follows is deafening.

I sit down across from Lizzie, studying her. She's grown so much, yet in this moment, she looks small, vulnerable. I want to reach out, to bridge the gap that's formed between us, but I don't know how.

Minutes pass, each one heavier than the last.

Finally, she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you leave?"

I inhale sharply, the question hitting me like a punch to the gut. I open my mouth to respond, to explain the complexities of my departure from the force, from Olivia, but she cuts me off.

"Not Olivia," she says, her eyes meeting mine for the first time. "Me. Why did you leave me?"

The room tilts, and I'm momentarily unsteady. Of all the questions, this is the one I wasn't prepared for.

"Lizzie," I start, my voice thick, "I never wanted to leave you. Any of you."

"But you did," she says, her tone devoid of accusation, filled only with a profound sadness. "You left, and everything fell apart."

I lean forward, elbows on my knees, hands clasped together as if in prayer. "I thought I was protecting you," I admit. "After that shooting... after I killed that girl in the precinct... I was spiraling. I didn't know who I was anymore. I was afraid that if I stayed, I'd bring that darkness home."

She listens, her expression unreadable.

"I told myself that by leaving, I was keeping you safe," I continue. "But I see now that all I did was abandon you when you needed me most."

Tears well up in her eyes, but she blinks them away. "I needed my dad," she says, her voice breaking. "Not some idea of protection. Just you."

I reach out, hesitating for a moment before placing my hand over hers. "I'm so sorry, Lizzie. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now how much I hurt you. If I could take it back, I would."

She looks down at our joined hands, her fingers curling slightly around mine. "I don't know how to trust you again," she confesses.

The honesty in her words cuts deep, but I nod, understanding. "I know. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn that trust back."

We sit in silence, the weight of our shared pain pressing down on us. But for the first time in a long while, it feels like there's a path forward, however uncertain it may be.

"I missed you," she whispers.

"I missed you too," I reply, my voice thick with emotion.

And in that moment, amidst the broken pieces of our relationship, there's a glimmer of hope.


Olivia Benson

The silence hit me like a wave. For the first time in hours, the apartment was still. No Lizzie humming along to Erica's favorite song. No tiny footsteps of my daughter racing down the hall pretending she's a "cop just like mama." Just me, standing in the kitchen, hands still warm from the coffee I didn't get to drink.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding and looked around the apartment. It smelled like waffles and strawberry shampoo. Lizzie's overnight bag had been packed quickly, but the scent of her still lingered — citrus lotion and some sort of cinnamon lip balm. I liked having her here. Erica had adored her instantly, and Lizzie, despite all she was going through, had stepped right into a big sister role with no hesitation. It made everything worth it. Every fucking second of doubt about letting Eliot back into our lives.

I grabbed the dishrag and headed to the guest room. I wanted to make sure it was set for the next time Lizzie came over — because there would be a next time. I knew it. I wanted it. For Erica. For Lizzie. Hell, maybe even for me.

The moment I stepped into the room, something felt off. A chill ran down my spine. The bed was made, the blanket folded just like I taught Erica. But the window — the window was cracked open.

That… that wasn't right.

I'd tucked Lizzie in last night myself. She hadn't even looked toward the window. I knew the damn thing was locked. I always checked the windows. Always.

I walked over slowly, like the air itself had thickened. I unlocked the latch and pushed it open, stepping out onto the balcony. That's when I saw it. Sitting on the edge of the railing like it fucking belonged there.

A cigar.

Just sitting there.

It wasn't mine. It sure as hell wasn't Lizzie's.

I felt my throat tighten, and I turned back toward the window to close it — and that's when I saw it.

A handprint.

Smudged in the corner of the glass, half-faded, but unmistakable. Wide palm. Thick fingers. I'd seen enough prints in my life to know this one didn't belong to any teenage girl.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, backing away. My instincts kicked in hard. I wasn't just a mom. I wasn't just a friend. I was a detective. I'd followed that gut feeling for twenty-five years — and it had never failed me.

I moved fast. Locked the window. Closed the curtains. I walked back into the kitchen, grabbed my phone, and hit Eliot's contact without hesitation.

He picked up on the second ring. "Liv?"

"There's a cigar on my balcony," I said, skipping the pleasantries.

There was a pause. "What?"

I took a breath. "Guest room window was open. There's a cigar on the balcony. And a fucking handprint on the glass."

"Shit."

"That's one word for it."

He didn't respond for a second, and I could hear background noise — Lizzie, I thought, maybe Kathy too. I didn't care. "I know what you're going to say," he said finally, voice heavy. "You think someone was watching."

"More than watching," I said. "They were on the fucking balcony, Eliot. While Lizzie was here. While Erica was asleep across the hall."

"Goddamn it," he muttered. "You're sure?"

"Do I sound unsure?" I snapped. I knew it wasn't fair, but I didn't have the luxury of calm right now.

"No. You don't." He sighed. "You want me to come over?"

"No," I said quickly. "I need you to do something else."

"Anything."

I closed my eyes for a beat, gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles hurt. "We need to put Lizzie in witness protection."

Silence.

"Eliot?"

"I'm here." His voice dropped to that low, dangerous pitch that meant the cop in him was fully awake now. "Are you sure?"

"You know I wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't." My voice was steady. "This isn't just some creep with a cigar habit. Someone came here. Someone watched her. And if they went to the trouble of finding her here, they'll do it again."

His breathing picked up. "Jesus Christ. I should've stayed with her."

"You couldn't have known."

"I fucking should've."

"Don't do that," I said, softer now. "Don't waste time blaming yourself. We need to move. Fast."

"I'll call someone at WITSEC," he said. "We'll get her protected."

I closed my eyes again. "Thank you."

"Liv," he said, voice breaking slightly. "Are you okay?"

And there it was. The question I hated being asked. Because it made me think about the answer. Was I okay? No. Not even close. There was a man out there — maybe more than one — who had violated Lizzie, watched her, stalked her. My daughter had slept down the hall. And the man on the phone… he had no idea how much it had cost me to let him back into our lives.

But I couldn't say any of that. So I gave him what I always gave — strength. Control. Steel.

"I will be."

"I'm coming back," he said. "After I talk to WITSEC."

"No." I said again. "Not tonight. Lizzie doesn't need to see more chaos. Just… take care of her."

A pause. "You got it."

I hung up before I could say anything else. Before the tightness in my throat turned into something I couldn't swallow down.

I walked back into the guest room and stared at the window. The handprint was still there. Like a fucking taunt.

"You're not getting near her again," I whispered. "I swear to God, if you even try—"

My voice cracked.

I closed the curtains tight and turned out the light. Locked the door behind me.

Then I went to check on Erica. She was curled up in her blanket, her tiny hand wrapped around the stuffed lion Eliot had given her this morning. She looked so peaceful. So innocent. She had no idea her world was already shifting beneath her feet.

I brushed her curls back from her forehead and kissed her temple. "No one's ever going to hurt you," I whispered. "Not while I'm breathing."

But the truth?

Right now, I was scared. And I hated being scared. I hated that I couldn't protect them from everything. That no matter how strong I was, how good a cop, how fiercely I loved — it might not be enough.

But I also knew this:

Whoever left that cigar?

They just made the biggest mistake of their life.

Because now… now they had me hunting them.

And they wouldn't see me coming.


Eliot Stabler

I didn't know how the fuck I was supposed to say this.

I'd rehearsed it in my head the whole goddamn way here. The words should've been simple. Facts, laid out clean. I'd given bad news a thousand times in my life. But nothing—nothing—had ever felt like this.

I parked the car outside Kathy's house and just sat there for a second, hands gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles went white. The house looked the same as it always had. Lights on. Curtains pulled. It smelled like home when I stepped out of the car. That warm, familiar scent of soap and something Kathy was probably baking for Eli.

And I fucking hated it.

Because in a few minutes, everything inside this house was about to change.

I took a breath and walked up to the door. My hands felt too heavy when I knocked.

Kathy opened it, and just looking at her told me she already knew this wasn't good. Her eyes scanned my face, searching for something, and then she just… stepped aside, letting me in.

Lizzie was on the couch, knee bouncing, fingers gripping the hem of her sweatshirt like she was trying to fold herself smaller. Her whole body was one big fight-or-flight reaction. And when she looked up at me, my heart fucking cracked.

She was expecting bad news.

She had no fucking idea.

I sat down across from her. Kathy didn't sit, just hovered behind her like she could physically block whatever the hell I was about to say.

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. "I just got off the phone with Olivia."

Lizzie tensed. Kathy's mouth pressed into a thin line.

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. "This morning, she was cleaning up the guest room. The window was open." I let that sink in before I added, "She knows she locked it last night."

Lizzie swallowed. Her fingers curled tighter in her sweatshirt.

I kept going. "She went out to the balcony and found a cigar."

Kathy frowned, confused for a second. "A… cigar?"

I nodded. "And a handprint. On the window."

Lizzie inhaled sharply.

Kathy's hand flew to her mouth, eyes going wide.

"They were there," I said, voice lower now, darker. "Whoever—whatever sick fuck did this to you, Lizzie—they were watching you. Right there. Last night."

Lizzie shook her head. "No," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "No, I would've—"

"You wouldn't have," I cut in. "Because they're good at this. They were quiet. They were careful. And they knew exactly where you were."

Kathy sat down now, next to Lizzie, and put a hand on her knee. But Lizzie didn't look at her. She was staring at me, her brown eyes filled with something I hadn't seen in a long time.

Panic.

I ran a hand over my jaw. "We don't have a choice, Liz. SVU is putting you in witness protection."

Lizzie exhaled hard, like I'd just punched her in the gut. "What?"

I nodded, keeping my voice steady. "It's not forever, okay? But we can't take risks. We have to put you somewhere safe. Somewhere they can't find you."

Her whole body started shaking. She blinked fast, like she was trying to wake up from this nightmare.

"This can't be happening," she muttered. "This can't—"

"I know," I said quietly.

"No, you don't!" She shot up from the couch so fast Kathy flinched. "This isn't fair, Dad! I didn't do anything wrong! Why do I have to leave my life behind?! Why do I have to disappear?!"

She was yelling now. Pacing. And I let her. I let her get it out because God knows she deserved to.

"I finally—I finally had a good day! With Erica! With Olivia! It felt fucking normal for once! And now I have to—" Her voice cracked. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head violently. "No. I won't do it."

"Lizzie." Kathy's voice was soft. But Lizzie didn't turn.

I exhaled. "It's not a choice, kid. We're doing this."

Lizzie's hands curled into fists. "Where?" she demanded. "Where the hell are they sending me?"

And here it was. The worst part of all of this.

I took a slow breath. "Maine."

Lizzie blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

I clenched my jaw. "They're setting up a safe house. A cabin." I forced the words out, even though they made my stomach churn. "You'll be there for five months."

Silence.

Lizzie just stood there, like her brain refused to process it.

Kathy let out a sharp breath, eyes glassy. "Five months?" she repeated. "She—she's still in school, Elliot. She—"

"They'll handle it," I said. "Remote tutors. Security detail. Everything."

"No," Lizzie whispered.

Kathy shook her head, looking at me like I could fucking fix this. Like I had any power over this. "There has to be another way—"

"There isn't," I said, more forcefully now. "Kathy, you think I want this? You think I want to send my daughter a thousand miles away?! If I had a choice, I'd burn this whole city down to keep her safe! But this is it! This is how we keep her alive."

Lizzie flinched.

And I regretted the words the second they left my mouth.

"Alive," she echoed, voice hollow. "I have to hide just to be alive."

She wasn't crying. Not yet. But her whole body was shaking so hard I thought she might fall apart right in front of me.

"Liz," I tried, my voice gentler now. "I know this is—"

"No, you don't," she cut me off. Her eyes burned into mine. "You don't know what it's like to be scared all the time. To wonder if you'll ever feel normal again. To feel like your whole life is slipping through your fingers and you can't—" She choked, pressing her palms into her eyes. "I just got my dad back," she whispered. "And now I have to leave."

Something in my chest cracked wide open.

I stood up. "Lizzie, come here."

She hesitated. But then she moved. One step. Two. And I pulled her into a hug so tight I could feel her heartbeat slamming against my chest.

She didn't cry.

Neither did I.

But we stood there, holding on like the world was about to take everything away from us.

Because it was.

And I didn't know how the hell to stop it.


Olivia Benson

The morning sun filtered through the city haze as I maneuvered through the bustling streets of Manhattan. Dropping Erica off at kindergarten had become a cherished ritual; her tiny hand clutching mine, her infectious laughter echoing in my ears. Today was no different. She kissed my cheek, her eyes sparkling with innocence, before dashing into the schoolyard to join her friends.

As I navigated back to my apartment, the weight of recent events pressed heavily on my shoulders. Lizzie's assault had shaken us all to the core. The discovery of the cigar and the ominous handprint outside her window had set my nerves on edge. The city, with all its chaos and unpredictability, suddenly felt more sinister.

Unlocking the door to my apartment, I stepped inside, the familiar scent of home offering a fleeting comfort. I set my keys on the counter and shrugged off my coat, draping it over the back of the couch. The silence was both a relief and a reminder of the solitude that awaited me.

I moved to the kitchen, intent on brewing a strong cup of coffee to chase away the lingering fatigue. As the machine hummed to life, I leaned against the counter, allowing myself a moment to breathe. The rhythmic drip of the coffee was soothing, a mundane normalcy amidst the turmoil.

Cup in hand, I wandered into the living room, my eyes scanning the space. Everything appeared as I had left it. Yet, an inexplicable unease settled in my gut. I dismissed it as residual anxiety from the past few days.

Suddenly, a noise—a subtle creak of the floorboards behind me.

Before I could react, an arm, strong and unyielding, wrapped around my neck, pulling me backward. The coffee cup slipped from my grasp, shattering on the hardwood floor, the scalding liquid seeping into the rug.

I struggled, instinct kicking in. Years of training surged through me as I jabbed my elbow into my attacker's ribs. He grunted but didn't loosen his grip. His other hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my scream.

"Shh, Detective," a raspy voice hissed into my ear. "This is all your fault."

I twisted, trying to get a glimpse of his face, but he wore a black ski mask, only his cold, dark eyes visible.

"You took her away from me," he continued, his grip tightening. "My muse. And now, you'll pay."

Realization hit me like a freight train. This was him. The bastard who had violated Lizzie. The monster who had been lurking in the shadows, watching, waiting.

Rage bubbled up inside me. I stomped on his foot, throwing my head back to hit his face. He stumbled, giving me a momentary advantage. I spun around, aiming a punch at his jaw. He dodged, retaliating with a blow to my stomach that sent me crashing into the coffee table.

Pain radiated through my side, but I pushed it aside. I couldn't afford to be weak. Not now.

"You think you're a hero," he sneered, advancing toward me. "But you're just a meddlesome bitch who doesn't know her place."

I grabbed a lamp from the side table, hurling it at him. He dodged, but it gave me enough time to scramble to my feet.

We circled each other, the living room becoming a battleground.

"You won't get away with this," I spat, my voice laced with venom.

He chuckled darkly. "Who's going to stop me? You?"

He lunged. I sidestepped, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back. He howled in pain but retaliated by slamming his head backward into my face. Stars exploded in my vision as I stumbled, blood trickling from my nose.

He didn't waste the opportunity. Grabbing me by the hair, he yanked me toward him, his other hand producing a knife that gleamed menacingly.

"Time to teach you a lesson," he whispered, pressing the cold blade against my throat.

A loud knock echoed from the door.

"Liv? You in there?" Fin's voice called out.

The attacker froze, panic flashing in his eyes.

"Liv? It's Fin. Open up."

With a growl of frustration, the masked man shoved me to the floor and bolted toward the window. He threw it open, disappearing onto the fire escape just as Fin's knocks grew more insistent.

I tried to call out, but my voice was weak, the world spinning around me. Darkness edged my vision as I heard the door burst open, Fin's footsteps rushing toward me.

"Shit, Liv!" His voice was distant, as if coming through a tunnel. "Stay with me."

I felt his hands on my face, gently patting my cheek, but the pull of unconsciousness was too strong.

The last thing I heard before succumbing to the blackness was Fin's voice, laced with worry and anger.

"I'm gonna find the son of a bitch who did this."

And then, everything faded away.


Eliot Stabler

The drive to the precinct was oppressively silent. Kathy sat beside me, her gaze fixed out the window, lost in thoughts she didn't voice. In the backseat, Lizzie was a bundle of nerves, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. The weight of what we were about to do hung heavily over us. Handing our daughter over to witness protection felt like severing a limb, but it was the only way to keep her safe.

As I navigated the familiar streets of Manhattan, memories flooded back. The precinct had been my second home for years, a place of camaraderie, of battles fought and sometimes won. But today, it felt different. Today, it felt like a place of surrender.

Pulling into the parking lot, I killed the engine and turned to face Lizzie. Her eyes met mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them.

"You ready for this, kiddo?" I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

She swallowed hard, nodding. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Kathy reached back, squeezing Lizzie's hand. "We'll be with you every step of the way."

Together, we entered the precinct, the familiar hum of activity washing over us. Detectives bustled about, phones rang incessantly, and the air was thick with the scent of coffee and urgency.

As we approached the front desk, a man stepped forward, extending his hand. He was in his late 30s, with short dark hair and a confident demeanor.

"Detective Nick Amaro," he introduced himself, his grip firm. "You must be Lizzie."

Lizzie offered a tentative smile, shaking his hand.

Nick's gaze shifted to me. "And you must be Elliot Stabler. Olivia's told me about you."

I nodded, a pang of nostalgia hitting me at the mention of Olivia. "All good things, I hope."

He chuckled. "Don't be so sure about it."

Turning back to Lizzie, Nick offered a reassuring smile. "You're lucky, you know. You won't be going alone."

Lizzie's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. "Yeah, Detective, what do you mean by that?"

Nick's expression shifted, realizing he'd stepped into something. "I assumed you were informed."

"Informed about what?" Kathy's voice was edged with concern.

Nick hesitated, then sighed. "Olivia was attacked in her apartment this morning."

The world tilted on its axis.

"What?" The word escaped my lips, a mixture of disbelief and fury.

"She's stable," Nick quickly added. "But given the circumstances, she's also being placed in witness protection."

The room spun. Olivia, attacked? The thought was unfathomable. She was the strongest person I knew, always in control, always vigilant. The idea of someone getting the drop on her was... impossible.

Lizzie's face had gone pale, her eyes wide with shock. "Is she... is she okay?"

Nick nodded. "She's tough. But the department isn't taking any chances."

I clenched my fists, a surge of anger bubbling beneath the surface. "Who did this?"

Nick's jaw tightened. "We're still piecing it together. But it seems to be connected to your daughter's case."

The pieces clicked into place. The bastard who hurt Lizzie was now going after Olivia. My vision blurred with rage.

Kathy placed a calming hand on my arm. "Elliot, we need to focus on Lizzie right now."

She was right. As much as I wanted to storm out and hunt down the son of a bitch responsible, my priority was here, with my family.

Nick cleared his throat. "We'll ensure both Lizzie and Olivia are safe. The safe house is secure, and they'll have round-the-clock protection."

Lizzie's voice was barely a whisper. "I'll be with Olivia?"

Nick nodded. "Yes. You'll be together."

A flicker of relief crossed her face. If she had to go through this nightmare, at least she wouldn't be alone.

I turned to Nick, my voice firm. "I want to see her."

He hesitated. "Elliot, she's being transported as we speak. It's best if—"

"I need to see her," I interrupted, my tone leaving no room for argument.

Nick studied me for a moment, then nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

Kathy pulled Lizzie into a tight embrace. "Stay strong, sweetheart. We'll be in touch as much as we can."

Lizzie clung to her mother, tears brimming in her eyes. "I love you both."

I joined the embrace, holding my family close. "We love you too, Liz. More than anything."

Nick gave us a moment before gently interjecting. "It's time."

Lizzie pulled away, wiping her eyes. She squared her shoulders, determination shining through her fear. "I'm ready."

We watched as Nick led her away, our hearts breaking with each step she took.

Once they disappeared from view, Kathy turned to me, her eyes searching mine. "Elliot, what are we going to do?"

I exhaled slowly, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. "We're going to find the bastard responsible. And we're going to make damn sure he never hurts anyone we love again."

Determination burned in Kathy's eyes as she nodded. "Together."

"Always."

As we left the precinct, the city buzzed around us, oblivious to the storm raging within our family. But one thing was clear: we wouldn't rest until justice was served.


The hospital had that distinct smell: a mix of disinfectant and despair. I walked through the fluorescent-lit hallways, each step echoing on the linoleum floor. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of anxiety and guilt weighing down on me.

Finally, I reached room 306. Through the window, I saw her. Olivia lay in the bed, pale against the white sheets, a tangle of tubes and wires attached to her body. Seeing her like that, so vulnerable, hit me like a punch to the gut.

I placed my hand on the doorframe, fighting the urge to go in, to be by her side. But something stopped me. Maybe it was the fear of facing my own guilt, or the fear that, even unconscious, she might feel my presence and everything that came with it.

"Stabler."

I turned to find Fin Tutuola walking up, his expression serious but with a flicker of concern in his eyes.

"Fin," I nodded, extending my hand. His grip was firm, an anchor in the storm that was brewing inside me.

"How you holding up?" I asked, knowing he was the one who found Olivia.

Fin let out a sigh, running a hand over his shaved head. "I've been better."

"I heard you were the one who found her."

He nodded, his gaze shifting toward the window that led to Olivia's room. "Yeah. I got there just after the bastard ran off."

The tension in his voice was palpable. I knew that feeling: the helplessness of arriving too late.

"You gotta stop blaming yourself, Fin. You did what you could."

He turned to face me, his dark eyes shining with a mix of rage and pain. "Yeah, but it wasn't enough, was it? At least this time it wasn't like with Lewis."

The name dropped between us like a bomb. I furrowed my brow. "Lewis? Who's Lewis?"

Fin looked at me, surprised. "You don't know about William Lewis?"

I shook my head, a lump forming in my stomach. "No. What happened?"

He crossed his arms, his posture stiff. "After you left, Liv... went through hell. William Lewis was a psychopath. He kidnapped Olivia, tortured her for days. Burned her with cigarettes, beat her, broke her."

Each word hit me like a direct punch to the gut. I felt dizzy, as if the ground was slipping away beneath me.

"Where the hell was I?" I muttered, more to myself than to him.

Fin continued, his voice low but intense. "She managed to escape, but not without scars. And the son of a bitch didn't stop there. He escaped from prison, stalked her, forced her to play Russian roulette. In the end, he blew his brains out in front of her, trying to frame her."

I leaned against the wall, feeling like I couldn't breathe. The image of Olivia—my Olivia—going through all that without me... was unbearable.

"Jesus," I whispered, running a hand over my face. "I had no idea."

Fin studied me for a moment before slowly nodding. "Yeah, well, she's not the type to complain. But I'll tell you this, Elliot—I've never seen her so... broken."

The weight of his words crushed me. I had left the force, left Olivia, thinking I was doing the right thing. But in doing so, I had left her vulnerable to monsters like Lewis.

"I need to see her," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Fin put a hand on my shoulder. "She's in there. Go."

I nodded, taking a deep breath before pushing open the door and stepping into the room.

The constant beep of the heart monitor filled the space, steady but haunting. Olivia's face was pale, her eyes closed, lips slightly parted as she lay unconscious. Tubes and wires crisscrossed her body, and I could barely suppress the urge to rush to her side, to take her hand and tell her that everything was going to be okay, even though I didn't know if it was.

But instead, I stood there, frozen, my heart heavy with regret.

I wasn't there when she needed me. I wasn't there when she was fighting for her life against a monster. And now, here she was—my partner, my friend, the woman I loved—lying in that bed, and I couldn't even bring myself to apologize.

Fin stood beside me, his eyes on her. "You can't blame yourself, Stabler. She's one tough woman."

"Yeah, but I should've been here. I should've never left," I muttered, my voice cracking.

Fin didn't say anything. He just nodded, as if he understood exactly what I meant.

I stood there, staring at her, willing her to wake up, wishing I could somehow make it all better. But I knew it wasn't that simple.

Finally, I spoke again, my voice hoarse. "Fin... I don't know how to fix this. I don't even know where to start."

He gave me a sidelong glance. "You start by being here now. You start by being the guy she needs you to be when she wakes up. That's all you can do."

I nodded, but the weight of everything felt like it was suffocating me. All the guilt, all the regret, everything that had led to this moment. And yet, here I was, standing on the edge, watching the woman I cared about more than anything fight for her life, and all I could do was stand by helplessly.

I wasn't sure how much time passed before I heard a soft groan. Olivia shifted slightly, her brow furrowing. My heart skipped a beat. Was she waking up? I rushed to her side, taking her hand in mine.

"Liv?" I whispered, my voice cracking as I spoke her name.

Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of recognition. But then, her eyes glazed over, as if she wasn't sure where she was or who was with her.

"Olivia, it's me," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Elliot. You're gonna be okay."

She didn't say anything. Her lips parted slightly, and she let out a soft breath, her hand weakly squeezing mine.

And that was all. Just the faintest hint of life, of hope, that maybe, just maybe, she would pull through this.

I wasn't sure how long I stood there, just holding her hand, waiting for her to fully wake up, but in that moment, all I could do was be there—for her, for us, for everything we had left to fight for.


Hey there, how are you doing?

I know this has too many things going on but it was necesary!

thanks for reading and pls review!!