Lewis William gets an unexpected visitor while in prison…

Lie to Me

It was a dark, stormy night, but Lewis Williams had always liked storms. The rain pattering against the thick glass panes by his cell, the rumble of thunder and the unexpected flashes of lightning that would light up the horrors of a jail cell. Oh yes, Lewis enjoyed the quick slivers of startlement that would shoot through the air, some from his fellow inmates but others from the guards. He was quite fond of thunder storms and the powerlessness they would bring.

Lewis was dangerous, not to himself but to others, and that was why he awaited trail in a room separate from the rest of the population. No, it wasn't solitary confinement, but it was close. He disliked it immensely, almost as much as he detested the looks others would shoot at him from behind the bars of his cell. They were too distant, too disconnected, like he didn't matter.

Of course he mattered. How could he not, after all he had done? He had caused the deaths of many, and hurt so many more after that. The heinousness of his acts had stunned even the Special Victims Unit, who dealt with what they liked to refer of as his kind every day. Lewis liked to think that there were no men like him; they didn't have the guts to do what he did, to taunt the police as publically as he had. Half the fun wasn't just torturing those women. He ran circles around the clueless NYPD, who could barely get charges to stick to him. There was no one who could get to him- until they did.

It was a woman, of all people. He would have never thought the one who brought him down would be her, but she did. She was his one mistake. Sure, he got off on the charges, but her voice still echoed in his ears. He'd had her life in his hands, had her begging for it, but even then she refused to fully break. He took her from house to house, made her watch as he killed those innocents, and yet she sat back and took it. She taunted him, and when she'd finally fought him and won- well, Lewis didn't like reliving that particular moment.

Olivia Benson had beat him within an inch of his life, yet he'd lived. But was it living, if he was here, trapped within concrete walls, while she was still out free? Perhaps. Lewis considered that thought every day. She had so many people around her, like a family almost.

So when he gets woken up at 2 in the morning because of a visitor, he knows it's about her.

He doesn't recognize him, for starters. He is not from the jail, or the courthouse, or any where Lewis can think of. But as he sits across the metal slab of a table in the visitor's area Lewis knows he came for blood.

It is still dark outside, still pouring down rain, still thundering with lightning barely lighting up the room. The electricity is off, and the minutes the guards lock him in with the mysterious man they leave. Odd, he can't help but think. They're not supposed to do that. But they do, and he's alone. There is an eerie shadow over the man's face as he stands by the wall, eyes glittering in the otherwise darkened room. Lewis sits down in the chair and smirked. He knew who this was.

After a long time the man cleared his throat and spoke. His voice was resounding and almost threatening, like he'd been through the mill and hollowed out like a log. "You're Lewis Williams." It was a statement, not a question. The prisoner couldn't help but shrug. "Or William Lewis. Whichever you prefer, I've gone by both."

"In order to rape and kill, yeah, I know your story."

"So you've heard of me?" Lewis's smirked widened into a grin, one once charming and alluring but now twisted into something malicious. He was very proud of this fact. Other inmates came to fear him just by making eye contact, and even then fewer dared. But this man, he was different. He didn't even flinch under his gaze. Oh yes, this was going to be fun. "What do they say?"

"You kidnapped Olivia Benson."

There is was- reason. This was why he was here, now. Only select few could get an interview with a psychopath at 2 am, so he had to be some form of cop. He wasn't familiar, defiantly not from the Special Victims Unit. Still, he must have a connection to her, or else he would not be where he still was. But, then again, prisons like his didn't have a large amount of reason, did they?

Lewis maintained his reaction to a mere chuckle. The public considered him a psychopath- why not live up to it? "I did, didn't I?" He shrugged his shoulders, as if the idea bored him. He played along with the man's game, for his sake more than his own. "That must be why you're here, am I right detective? Yeah, you've got to be a detective. You have the badge. 'Queens Homicide' does it read? Besides, you wouldn't have dared come otherwise." His visitor's eyes narrowed coldly, and Lewis nonchalantly looked around the room, anywhere but those frigid blue eyes. He would have fun watching this man squirm, grow impatient but able to do nothing.

"You must have called in many a favor to get me here, alone," Lewis continued, smirking. "Perhaps it was a call to one of the guards, or even the Warden himself, to get me in here. But why- well, that remains to be seen." He leaned in towards the man, who frowned darkly. "Do you want to know about it detective? Every wonderful, delicious, indescribable detail? How she screamed when I seared those cigarette butts into her flesh? How she cried after I poured that vodka down her throat and tied those ropes so tight around her wrists they made her bleed? When I butchered that old couple in front of her, how she begged for me to spare her pathetic life?"

The officer didn't bat an eye, but anyone could tell he was nervous. Lewis saw it in his eyes, and with something almost like pure glee he went on. "Or maybe, maybe you want to hear about her, how her skin practically melted at my touch, how when I put the gun to her head she sobbed for her old partner-"

"Shut up!" The man couldn't take it anymore, and both of them knew it. He slammed his fist down upon the table and thrust the chair he'd been seated in away. He paced to the wall and back again, his breath suddenly ragged and his expression unleveled. Anger unparalleled to anything Lewis had ever seen boiled under his skin, just waiting to explode and take down anything in his path. He'd succeeded in breaking the detective.

Lewis chuckled again, enjoying the moment. "Is this regret, detective?" he taunted. "Regret that you couldn't save her? It's too late for that, I think. She saved herself, and I'm in here." He spread his chain-cuffed hands apart in a wide gesture. "I'm not exaggerating, detective. It was the experience of a lifetime."

"You're sick," was his only response. Lewis smiled. "Sick? Only in the eye of the beholder. Me? I consider myself an artist. My work… there's none like it anywhere else in the world. You know that, deep down. You know what I think? I think you-"

"I don't care what you think," the man snapped bitterly. He wouldn't look him in the eyes anymore. It was as if the very thought and image repulsed me. Lewis seemed to have that effect on people. "You're a rapist, a murderer; you don't have a say in what I think."

Lewis was determined to press on, through the man's insistent interruptions. He was having far too much fun of a time with it. "-I think you didn't care what happened to her. You just came down here, to my part of hell, to keep up the appearances that you're actually concerned. After all, you're a cop. It's in your nature-"

The words had barely left his mouth when the man suddenly lunged at him. Lewis didn't have time to react; he was trapped under the man's grasp in an instant, his jaw clenched in his fist, under just enough pressure to snap in two and his throat slowly tightening. Still, he laughed. He had him. "Did I hit a nerve?" he managed to gasp.

"I dare you!" the detective snarled, gripping his tighter than ever that Lewis became slightly concerned. "I dare you to lie to me."

"But why would I lie to you, detective?" Lewis hissed, glowering up at him. "Would I really think so little of you?"

That stopped him. With much restrained effort the man released him roughly and backed off, glancing up at the camera and the lens that surveyed the entire events. It was off. Lewis smiled again. "You must have someone looking out for you detective. Very few can pull off what you just did."

His not-so-welcome-anymore visitor's lips curled into a sneer as he pushed the release button. "Very few are like me." The door of the visitor's center slid open as another flash of lightning flickered across the sky, and William Lewis decided that storms were now officially overrated. But this man, he was leaving, like nothing ever happened! That bothered Lewis. He wasn't to be pushed aside after such an encounter as this. Not then, not now, and most certainly not ever!

"You know, we never did discuss why you were here, detective!" he called after him as the door snapped shut. The man stopped but did not look back. Lewis had lost him, and both knew it. But this time, there was no going back. He had no control; the man was almost gone.

Instead of denying there was a reason, like Lewis thought, he was blatantly honest. Too honest, actually, for Lewis's taste. It made a sour feeling ripple through his mouth. "I had to know who you were," he muttered, almost too quietly for the criminal to hear. "Who did this to her."

Lewis smirked. "So it always was about her, wasn't it? The incorruptible Olivia Benson." He spat out the words like they were poison, but the man tensed up immediately. He had just enough voice to reply, but no more than that, and he said the words Lewis had been dying to hear.

"More than you know."

Laughter echoed across the hall as the detective resumed his exit. He tried his best to ignore the maniacal sounds following him as he walked away, but couldn't get the taunting voice out of his head. "You know she'll never forget me, Detective Stabler! You left her behind-I'll always be a part of her! Forever!"

The shouting continued long after he was already gone.

So, this is my first SVU fic ever, so please don't be mean! I tried to keep it clean the best I could. Reviews are welcome!