Disclaimer: Characters and recognizable dialogue are Dick Wolf's and NBC. Any mistakes are clearly mine.

Bringing Down The Walls

"Olivia, did he rape you?"

"It was the closest I've ever come."

The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask

It's hard to see the pain behind the mask

Bearing the burden of a secret storm

Sometimes she wishes she was never born

-Concrete Angel, Martina McBride

"Olivia, what happened in that basement?" He leans over you at your desk while you're trying to figure out how to help Ashley. You know he can see the bruises on your face. No amount of makeup is enough to hide the marks that Harris made.

"Nothing. It was nothing." You say. You don't want to tell him. Don't want to put those images in his head. Don't want to go back to that dark place. Where you felt so trapped, screaming to get out. Throwing yourself against the metal door, desperate to get free. Like an animal in a trap.

{And you hear the clink of his belt buckle, feel the soft rancidness of his breath, almost like sour milk and cheap beer, on your cheek, on your hair. His hands are rough and calloused as they pull you against him.}'

Inside you're still screaming. But you keep that tight to yourself, wrapped closely to you, underneath your surface of pretending.

Elliot looks at you as you pick up the phone. You pretend you don't see that his eyes are picking up more than you're willing to tell him. He sees beneath you, he always has. But you can't tell him. Because speaking about it makes it real. And you're not willing to turn the ghosts and shadows into solid flesh.

You want him to still see you as strong. Not as that quivering, shaking, sweat soaked mess that you were in Sealview. The one begging Harris not to do this.

Please don't.

Please don't.

Please don't.

The one clawing at his face, crawling on your knees. The one handcuffed to the door as he….but, no, you weren't going to go there.

"Detective Benson." You're grateful for the intervention of the phone ringing, breaking the uncomfortable silence. The silence that almost has coaxed you into telling him what happened in the darkness. Praise God (if He exists) for small mercies, you think as you pick up on the first ring.

Thank you for saving me.

You can't stand the thought of him knowing what happened between you and Harris. Can't stand the thought of seeing the pity in his eyes. Him knowing that Harris took something from you that you will never get back. The person that went into Sealview is not the same person who came out.

"Ashley's awake," you tell him brusquely, "I have to go." Don't fucking ask me. Please. Don't ask.

Thankfully, Ashley was able to make a positive identification and, along with your partner and the Warden, you walk into the prison and arrest Lowell Harris in front of the cheering female inmates. As you pass the jail cells you can see the sheer relief in the eyes of many of the women clinging to the jail bars.

The cheers are loud, numerous, and you can still hear them as you walk out of the institution for the last time, Harris in cuffs. You suspect this moment is the one moment of true joy these people have ever had. Their first taste of hope and freedom even though they're still trapped behind bars.

They're free from him now but are you?

…. Four months later

Don't tell me the moon is shining;

show me the glint of light on broken glass.

-Anton Chekov

You wake up screaming. It's the fifth night in a row now. For the first couple months, you seemed to be okay. You were able to tamp down the memories, compartmentalize, focus on your job. But over the last week, something seems to be off.

Every case is hitting you too close to home. When you talk to the victims, you look at them and see you in their faces. As they describe the sheer terror of strangers pushing themselves into their bodies, overcoming all their defenses, you start remembering.

And you're losing yourself in the remembering.

Harris laughing as you struggle against him. Yeah, keep fighting, bitch.

A few times you've caught Elliot looking at you, a speculative glance in his eyes. He knows you're not on your game.

"Liv? Liv? You there?" He's said, making it a joke to avoid others being concerned about your mental state.

"Sure, sorry." You respond apologetically.

You can tell he wants to ask but, in an uncharacteristic act of restraint, he doesn't. As if he knows you'll come to him when it's time. In your time and on your terms.

But you don't.

In the meantime, he's been picking up the slack during the times you're not on your game. Which has been more and more lately. The memories come to you in the most inconvenient places, during the most inconvenient times.

The ringing of your cell interrupts the darkness of your thoughts.

"Benson."

"Liv?" It's El. What does he want this late at night? And how does he always seem to know when you can't sleep. It's a little disturbing to have someone know you so well. Because sometimes you want to keep the pathways of your soul a little secluded.

Hard to do when someone knows the way down them.

"What's going on, El? Does Cragen want us?"

"No…no…nothing like that. I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"I'm fine, Elliot. Shouldn't you be with Kathy and the kids?"

"They're asleep."

"You should be too. God knows we don't get enough sleep on this job as it is."

"I wanted to check on my partner." He says quietly and the concern is as tangible as the shadows surrounding you.

"You checked on me. I'm good. Is there anything else?" You wince as you hear how brusque you sound. Just leave me alone. Please.

"Yeah. Come to your door."

So you do and there he is.

"What the hell, Elliot? I don't need a keeper." You're mad because there he goes, pushing himself into your business, and you fucking hate it when he does that.

Ignoring your ire, he walks past you into your apartment.

"I know you, Liv. I know there's something you're not telling me. About Sealview."

"So your solution is to barge in and try to get it out of me? Real smooth, Stabler. It's none of your goddamned business."

"When it's affecting our cases, it sure as hell is my business." He gives you a level stare. But not a mean one.

Low blow, El. Low blow.

"Fuck you, Elliot. I'm fine." You say heatedly.

"Don't give me that bullshit, Liv. I'm not the only one noticing that you're off your game. Munch, Lake, they all see it. And if they're seeing it, you can be sure as hell Cragen's noticing. And how long do you think you can keep this up before he benches you?"

"Fuck you." It's the only response you can give him because deep down you know he's hitting on something you don't want to talk about. Don't want to think about it. Don't want to vocalize because you know what happens when you do.

It becomes real.

"Liv," he steps towards you, his voice gentle. "You don't have to hide. Not from me. Just tell me what's going on."

And the wall you've been constructing starts to crumble just a little.

{You bitch. I'll teach you to fight back. And his fist hits your face again.}

He scans your face with those bright blue eyes…as bright as the spring sky. Sometimes you could almost lose yourself in them but you resist because you're just partners and he's married and it's never going to happen.

But it's a nice thought. Don't go there, Olivia.

"He raped you, didn't he?"

No, no no no no no no…I don't want to go back there. Please don't make me go back there. Please don't, please don't, please don't.

You wrap your arms around yourself and stare at him defiantly. "Nothing happened, Elliot. And you can't make me say that anything did."

He just looks resigned, because he knows. He's heard this from so many others. Too many. He never thought he'd be hearing it from you.

"It doesn't make you weak, Liv. You're not the coward here."

"I can't talk about it." Your walls are crumbling a little bit more.

"Because if you do, it becomes real." He says softly. "I get it, Liv. But you know better than anyone that not talking about it doesn't make it go away."

He gently tilts your chin up.

"What are you afraid of, Liv?"

Of you seeing me as a victim. Of you seeing me as somehow less than I am.

"I'm not afraid." It's scary how easy the lie comes out. But it should be. You've been practicing enough. And it's funny how you demand honesty from others but honest is the last thing you can allow yourself to be.

To live a lie is safer. It's better for you. Better for all of them.

"I think you need to go." You try to say firmly but it comes out shaking. "I don't want you here, El."

Please go before I break.

"Do you need me to go?"

Yes. No. Please don't go. Please get the hell out of here. You really don't know what you need.

Your hesitation is your undoing.

"He raped you, didn't he?"

And your walls come down. Fuck you, Elliot Stabler, and your goddamned persistence.

"No. He didn't get that far." To your surprise, the answer comes out of you as a faint gasp of air. "But it was close, the closest I've ever been."

And you tell him everything.

But as you do, you keep your head down, you don't want to see the pity in his eyes. Not from him. You wouldn't be able to handle that humiliation. Just him knowing is enough.

"Oh, Liv." That's all he says. All he needs to say. All he can say because his voice breaks.

And you realize he's hurting for you.

Before you realize what's happening, he's wrapped you in his arms. They're strong and they're solid and in them you feel as if the world has melted away and nothing can get to you. Just with his presence, he keeps the demons back. And you let yourself sink into them and the tears that you've forced down these past months erupt and you cry. Cry for the person you lost in that basement. Cry for Ashley. Cry for Reesa.

Cry for all the faces you seen, all the stories you've heard.

There are so many tears to weep. So many people to weep for.

Most of all you weep for yourself.

He does nothing but rub your back. And you find that you don't mind that he knows. It's a relief to get it off your chest. You're not trying to do it alone anymore.

He has your back.

I'm your partner, for better or worse.

"I should have been there." He whispers. "I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault." You reply through the tears choking your throat. "I knew what I was getting into. I never should have gone down to that basement with him."

"Victim-blaming, Liv?" Elliot chides you gently. "You know better."

You look up him and smile ruefully, "I seem to be terrible at following my own advice."

He smiles a little. "You always have been." He smooths your hair from your forehead. "You gonna be okay?"

"I will be."

As he walks out your door, he turns around and says simply, "You know where to find me."

I'm here for you.

Always.

"We need never be hopeless because we can never be irreparably broken." ~ John Green