Part 4

A month goes by and things go relatively back to normal.

That is, until he and Olivia bust into a warehouse they suspect is the true scene of their victim's attack and walk right into a gang initiation in the midst of taking place. There's one hysterical girl who's no more than fifteen and six tough boys in their late teens wielding four knives and one gun amongst them. Two of the boys are holding the girl down on a table while a third is trying to get her clothes off; the other three boys are loitering around, watching.

It all happens so fast Elliot doesn't have a chance to ponder whether she's right that they don't have time to call for backup. They draw their guns and surprise the group and the girl manages to escape. But in the midst of the chaos they get surrounded and before Elliot knows it they are both disarmed and Olivia is thrust into the scene.

It takes three guys to hold Elliot back as he struggles to help his partner, who is herself fending off three well-built teenage boys. He's impressed with her skill as she manages to keep them at bay for several minutes – crucial minutes he hopes will buy some time for the girl to find help – but all three tower over her and outweigh her by at least fifty pounds. He knows that without his help she doesn't stand a chance.

Sure enough, within seconds they've got her pinned, bent forward on the table. In one swift maneuver one of them yanks her wrists together over her head, pressing them to the table, and she is completely immobilized. They start to tug at the back of her pants and one of them hands the other his knife to help with the task. Elliot's yelling his lungs out at them, trying to get their attention, trying to warn them how many years they'll get for raping a cop, but the boys ignore him; they are intent on their mission.

He watches in helpless horror as they start to cut her pants away, and suddenly he realizes that she's stopped struggling, stopped screaming. She is bent over the table, her cheek pressed against the flat wooden surface, and she is not moving.

They've got her down to her panties and one of them unzips his pants, clearly identifying himself as number one to do the deed. He pulls out his penis and takes it in one hand and uses the other to lean against the table, positioning himself behind her, getting ready. Any second now, the panties will come off too.

She told him the rest of the story, that night, about Harris's exposing himself after he finally trapped her at the dead end, backhanding her across the face to subdue her once and for all. She told him how close it came, and how, after all that, help did arrive, in the form of Fin. She told him about how the image of Harris like that, leaning so close to her, is what has stuck with her most all these months.

And so now Elliot's grateful for one small thing: her rapist is standing behind her, and so she can't see him, can't see how he's holding himself, can't see the cold, lecherous smile plastered across his young face. For these next few seconds at least, she doesn't know how close it is to happening. Whatever happens next, she won't have this particular image in her mind.

The boy reaches for her panties. Elliot keeps struggling, but he knows it's futile. He's barely aware of the tears running down his face. This is happening, he thinks, this is really happening.

No sooner has the thought passed through his mind than backup mercifully arrives. Fin and Munch burst in and wrench the boys off Olivia and Cragen and two unis point guns at the ones keeping Elliot back.

The instant he's free he rushes to her. She's still bent over the table, frozen in the position they forced her into. Her eyes are clenched shut and the side of her face is still pressed firmly to the table's surface and she's clutching the edges for dear life. She doesn't seem aware that it's over, that she can get up now, that Cragen and the team have arrived and that she's safe.

"Liv?" he says gently, leaning over her from behind, deliberately using his body as a shield to block the sight of her. Law enforcement officers are spilling into the room by the dozen, and all of them are male. He doesn't want any further viewing of his partner like this, half-naked and in such a humiliating position.

"Come on," he says softly. He drapes his jacket over her backside and then grasps her tentatively by the armpits, gently tugging, encouraging her to let go of the table's edges. She is shaking, but otherwise unresponsive. "Liv?" he repeats.

She whimpers, and this is the only indication he has that she's still with him. But she won't let go of the table.

"I'm gonna pull you up, okay? Just stay with me. It's over, it's over, okay?" He reaches for her hand and gently pries her fingers away; when she doesn't resist, he does the same with the other hand.

Cragen is approaching, his face twisted into an expression of intense concern and horror. "Elliot?" he asks, looking to her.

Elliot looks up, and they make eye contact. He flashes his boss a warning. Don't come closer. She's too freaked out.

"Can you stand?" he asks her. There's no response, and so he slowly draws her up onto her feet from behind, clutching her securely by the armpits, taking her weight. "I've got you. I've got you, okay?"

She's standing on her own, but just barely. She stares straight ahead, as if in a trance. Elliot looks to Cragen again and motions with his eyes; now that she's vertical, his jacket is on the verge of slipping right down her hips unless somebody ties it around her waist. Cragen gets the message instantly and steps forward, performing the task as quickly and as unobtrusively as possible as Elliot stands there with her, holding her. The indignity of having her boss ensure she remains covered strikes him, suddenly, hard.

But she's so out of it she doesn't seem to notice.

It occurs to Elliot that later this incident will get written up in a report, and the words that will be used to describe it will be the same words that she used in her report about Sealview. "Suspects attempted to rape detective on scene. Backup arrived before this could occur."

He's appalled by how poorly the words will describe what has actually happened.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Hours later Elliot's lying across her couch still awake, having convinced her to let him stay over. To his surprise she didn't argue when Cragen ordered him to take her to the hospital, and she even accepted the drugs they prescribed to help her sleep. The whole evening, she's let him take over, let him do things for her, let him take care of her.

He had thought he had gained momentous insight when she described Harris's attack, and for the past month he's thought about her story every single day. He's stopped talking about solitary, stopped thinking about Donovan, and stopped resenting that Olivia didn't tell him about Kurt. The suspects he's encountered have paid a higher price than usual, as have his knuckles and a certain metal locker on the second floor of the stationhouse. In his head, Harris has met many a violent, untimely death.

But tonight he realizes that the pictures he's stored in his head for the past month couldn't possibly compare to witnessing it with his own eyes. And he also realizes that his pity and his anger have done nothing to really help her.

It's always the female, he thinks grimly, as he stares at the ceiling.

It's always the female who bears the brunt of everything. They were separated by six boys, and each got three to deal with. They could have beaten Elliot to a pulp but there was never any question which of them was going to sustain the real damage.

He's been hurt more times on the job than she has, but none of the things that have happened to him have really scarred him.

Which is why he was ready to forgive his attacker after one lousy amateur excursion during which he decided there were extenuating circumstances.

Whereas she wishes her attacker to be tossed into the darkest of dungeons and for them to throw away the key.

But it's not because he's stronger and she's weaker. He's not better or smarter.

It's just that while his life has been threatened, his dignity, his pride, his privacy, his soul, have not. And what is life without those things?

She has faltered on the job many times because of what Harris did to her, but she has also soared. She has saved him, and countless others, including one fifteen year-old girl, because of the strength she's derived from having experienced so many things.

And when he noticed that she was faltering, instead of helping her, he rubbed it in and competed with her. He, who has always put his own family first, had the audacity to suggest she was heartless for not wanting to put all her energy into righting a wrong that he unilaterally and selfishly identified as being the only cause worth fighting for.

She has fought for countless causes, including, ironically, for better treatment of prisoners.

So what if she wasn't interested in fighting for one specific, peculiar aspect of it?

She, of all people, shouldn't have had anything to prove.

If anything, he does.

But it won't come in the form of righting the wrongs of the criminal justice system, or the prison system, nor in expressing his personal outrage at every criminal who walks through his door.

Because even if he could do all of those things, none of it would really help her.

And she isworth his tireless, dedicated effort.

Not just because he loves her. But also because she's spent her life fighting for justice and seen so little of it herself.

He finally falls asleep, profoundly worried about her.

But also a little more enlightened.

The end.