A/N: OIivia tells Elliot about Lewis. The conclusion.

It's Friday night and he makes genuine Italian Carbonara for her, pours her a glass of Sangiovese as she watches him cook and a second once they sit down to eat. Eli is with Maureen and Carl for the weekend and Bernie is with Kathleen until Saturday afternoon.

It's all very convenient to Olivia, and suspicious. She knows Elliot is aware that Noah is spending the night with Fin and his five-year-old grandson Jaden while Phoebe is visiting her sister. He met her son officially two weeks ago and Noah gladly offered up how excited he was for the 'just guys' night after spending so much time with Amanda and her girls.

"That's great buddy," Elliot had said. "Sounds like fun."

"But I'm worried about mom," he'd offered. "She has bad dreams sometimes," he'd added in a whisper. "I take her water and let her cuddle with Mr. Platypus but who's gonna do it if I'm not here?"

Elliot hadn't taken a breath before answering.

"Don't worry, Noah," he'd said. "Your mom is the strongest, bravest person I've ever met," he'd continued. "But if she needs help, I'll be there."

"You promise?"

"Promise."

Olivia had smiled as she prepared the salad for their dinner. It had been another month of therapy and honest conversations with her former partner before he was allowed to meet Noah. And in true Stabler fashion, he'd charmed her son within ten minutes of meeting him. Once they started playing the latest FIFA game that Noah received for Christmas, they'd forgotten Olivia was even there.

"That was amazing El," she says after they retire to the living room. "When did you learn to cook like that?"

"I'd lie and say I picked up a thing or two from our neighbors in Rome," he begins, "But the truth is I watched the preparation on a YouTube video," he admits. "Just…wanted to impress you."

Olivia can't help but blush as she hides behind another sip of the Sangiovese.

"Well, consider me impressed," she tells him, resting her glass on the coffee table. She draws a jean clad leg beneath her as she faces him where he sits on the other end of the sofa. He'd told her there was no need to dress up but she donned her favorite cashmere sweater paired with dark wash jeans and black leather boots for their night.

Despite him describing the dress as casual, Olivia will always make an effort, especially in this new version of their relationship.

"So, have you made any resolutions?" Elliot asks.

It's not so much a resolution she's made for the new year as she just thinks it's time for the conversation she's been actively avoiding.

"Not really," she answers. "I don't usually bother with those," she adds. "But I do wanna talk to you about something."

Elliot sees the change in her eyes, her posture and he knows what's coming.

"Liv…you don't have—

"— But I need to," she interrupts. "The seeds, remember?" She asks. "I have to be able to be just as vulnerable with you as you've been with me," she adds. "And that includes what I'm about to tell you."

Elliot simply nods and scoots closer.

"It was over eight and a half years ago but…it's something that changed me, changed the person you knew to the woman I needed to become," she adds. "To survive."

Olivia takes a deep breath and begins.

"His name was William Lewis," she starts. "He had managed to avoid prosecution for everything from lewd conduct to rape, kidnapping and murder, across several states for fifteen years."

"How the fuck does that happen?"

"Knowing and gaming the system, manipulating his attorneys and a ridiculous amount of incompetence on the parts of multiple police jurisdictions," she answers. "Until he got here."

Elliot smirks with pride.

"Rollins called us in on a Sunday, for what we thought was something completely unnecessary," she explains. "A flasher in Central Park. But after five minutes in the box with him, we were convinced there was something bigger at play."

"A cop's instincts."

"Yeah," she agrees. "He'd used the same tricks he had in the past, burned off his fingerprints, pled not guilty to avoid DNA collection and got out…again," she concludes, standing. "It cost our only witness her life in the end. She died three days after her ordeal with Lewis. A heart attack."

"But the DA couldn't prove murder."

"No," she agreed. "Barba offered him a deal but Lewis not only refused, he accused me of being out to get him from jump."

"He'd fixated on you."

"He did," Olivia says, beginning to pace. "And after DNA contamination was discovered in the lab, the judge declared a mistrial."

"Son of a bitch."

"We felt the same," she says, offering a small smile. "The captain ordered me to take two days off work after we got the news."

Despite her assertion that she's a different person now, Elliot still knows her, knows she's soft balled him with the facts of the case to prepare him for what's to come. Her own ordeal.

"We can stop there if you want," he offers. "I don't need—

"— But I do Elliot. So please just…

"Okay, Liv. I'm listening."

"To this day we never figured out how he got into my apartment," she continues. "But when I got home, he was just…there," she adds. "He pistol-whipped me, knocked me out, tied me to a chair and duct taped my mouth."

Now Elliot is up off the couch. He heads straight to the kitchen and pulls a bottle of Jameson from the cabinet and grabs two low ball glasses before rejoining her. He fills one, knocks it back and refills it again.

"You want one?"

"Not yet," she tells him.

Olivia waits until he's had another and is seated before she continues.

"Over the first two days he –

"— The first two?"

"He had me for a total of four days," she informs him. "The first two were spent in my apartment pouring vodka down my throat and forcing me to take pills," she continues. "Burned me with lit cigarettes. Heated my keys on the stove, seared my chest, my stomach…still can't tolerate the smell of any fried meat."

"Jesus Christ."

"I was so drugged and dehydrated I don't even remember how he got me into the trunk."

"A trunk?"

"Yeah, it's how we ended up on Long Island," she explains. "But not before he executed his lawyer's father and forced me to watch as he raped her mother," she continues. "Every time my eyes slip closed, he burned the woman with a lit cigarette. At some point I passed out. He'd kept me so doped up on pills and vodka that I couldn't keep them open. The smell of it is still a trigger for me."

Olivia doesn't have to meet Elliot's eyes to know he's crying. She can hear the near silent whimper, his sniffles. But she knows if she sees his face, she won't be able to continue. And she needs to finish the story.

It's the last time she wants to tell it.

"How did…how did nobody fucking notice for two days?" He yells. "My God, Liv!" He plants his elbows on his knees, face in his hands.

Olivia's asked herself that too many times to count.

"Elliot."

"I'm sorry."

"At some point I had…resigned myself to fate. I thought I was gonna die," she confesses. "You were the last person I thought of when he stuck my own gun in my mouth," she goes on. "The only thing that stopped him from pulling the trigger was me begging for my life," she admits. "He got off on it."

Suddenly he's up and running to the bathroom. Olivia can hear him puking all the Carbonara from her seat on the sofa. She gets it. Her appetite was trash for weeks after she came home. Anything she tried to put in her stomach came right back out. Before her therapy began with Dr. Lindstrom, she was down ten pounds and existing solely on ginger ale and crackers.

Once she hears the toilet flushing and the water in the sink running, presumably from him washing up and brushing, Olivia knows he's minutes from returning. She pours her own glass of Jameson and knocks it back before his footsteps bring him into the living room again.

"I'm so sorry."

"Elliot, if you can't—

"— I can handle it," he interrupts, taking the bottle from her. "Just...finish it. Please."

Instead of pouring another drink he sits beside her.

"I was handcuffed to a metal bedframe," she continues. "I tried to goad him into raping me, just to get it over with while I worked a bar away from the bed," she explains. "Because surprisingly after four days alone with me…that's the one thing he never got around to doing."

Elliot sighs in relief.

"When—when exactly did this happen," he begins. "Because if I had known, Liv. If I had just known, I would've come back," he asserts, standing. "I would've executed the son of a bitch myself, so help me God."

"It doesn't matter," she says. "You weren't here."

There's resignation in her tone with a hint of anger. Things that will likely always be there when she thinks of that time. He nods in agreement, she continues.

"I managed to break free of my restraints and beat the shit out of him with that loosened metal bar," she admits. "I had a concussion, my left wrist was broken and three of my ribs were cracked but I managed to nearly kill him," she goes on. "I should've just pulled the trigger."

"He deserved to suffer," Elliot says. "I would've done worse."

"I know," she admits. "Months later he managed to survive, heal and escape again," Olivia tells him, to his utter shock. "He murdered someone else, raped a teenaged girl and kidnapped another all to get me to confess on live TV that I'd lied when I told the department he'd broken free before I beat him."

"Did you?"

"Are you asking if I lied or if I confessed on live TV?"

With a tilt of his head, she knows the answer.

"You know better, Liv."

"I ditched my protective detail to try and save the girl," she continues. "But this time my squad closed in faster," she adds. "He forced me to play Russian roulette and shot himself while they listened over the radio."

"So, he's dead?"

"He's dead," Olivia confirms. "The fallout almost cost me my badge but, in the end…I'm here and he's not. Noah came not long after, I'm healthy, I'm captain now…I survived."

He reaches for her hand, clasping them in both of his.

"Thank God for that," he tells her, standing. "I uh…I'm gonna take a little walk but I'll be back soon."

"I'll take your word for that since it's your apartment."

The Jameson has been returned to the cabinet, the food put away, the dishes washed and Olivia's watching a Golden Girls rerun on his sofa when she finally hears his footsteps at the door, his key in the lock.

He has a brown bag in hand as he greets her.

"Hey," Elliot says. "Sorry I was gone for so long."

"It's fine, I get it," she says, standing and stretching. "But I think I'm gonna head out. Just wanted to make sure you got back okay."

"Please…don't leave," he urges, a look of desperation marring his face. "I-I bought Blue Bell ice cream— buttered pecan and Dutch chocolate," he adds. "Between all the streaming services and satellite Eli ordered, I'm sure we could find something to watch."

Olivia looks hesitant. The night's been a heavy one. Telling the story of her Lewis named traumas, always leaves her exhausted.

"I don't know, El. I'm honestly just so—

"— Please, Liv," he begs, dropping the bag on the coffee table once he's closed the distance between them. "I don't want what you've told me to be the last things I imagine before I go to sleep. I just need—

"— I get it," Olivia interrupts, placing a comforting hand on his bicep.

It's like when you watch a horror movie and need to watch something lighter afterwards to try and make sure you don't have nightmares. She's his palate cleanser.

"I'll stay," she says to his instant relief. "But the Dutch chocolate is mine."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Elliot responds with a sheepish grin.

Two hours later, the leftover ice cream is in the freezer, their shoes are off and Olivia's asleep against his shoulder as images of a Ted Lasso episode reflects off their skin. Elliot's attention remains on his former partner. The gentle rise and fall of her chest. How a youthful superficial beauty has transformed into one that is deeper, classic and timeless in nature due to her inner strength and resilience.

He's loved her since he's known her. How can you not?

Elliot never wants to be without her again. He literally can't fathom a life that Olivia Benson is not only a part of, but has a starring role in. He understands her 'friendship for now'. The way he wounded her is a hurt that he'll spend the rest of his life making up for. She's being cautious. Not only for her own heart's sake but for her son. The fierce mama bear she evolved into in his absence is everything he thought she'd be as a mother and more. Hopefully, she'll allow Noah a chance to get to know him. Baby steps though.

"No," Olivia mumbles. "Please."

Elliot watches her face change from one of peace to an expression of anguish.

"Liv, wake up."

He doesn't get through her nightmare.

"No, no please," she continues. "Please stop."

Elliot shakes her this time, unable to watch her pain. Her eyes pop open as she pushes away from him, ending up on the opposite end of the sofa. She looks around, scared in the unfamiliar surroundings, eyes wild, hands trembling, breathing erratic.

"You're okay, Liv," he soothes. "You're at my house. You're safe."

She meets his eyes for the first time since waking.

"Elliot?"

"Yeah, Liv," he answers. "It was just a dream."

Minutes later, her breath slows and she calms.

"I'm sorry, I—

"—No need to apologize."

"Sometimes after I talk about him, the nightmares return."

"Shit Olivia," he says, shaken by the confession. "Why'd you tell me? The last thing I'd want is for you to be triggered or—"

"El, it's okay," she tells him, scooting closer and taking his hand. "I'm okay. But if we're going to be in each other's lives, it's something…a part of me…that you needed to know. Unless you don't—

"—I haven't changed my mind," he says, pulling her into his side. "I want you in my life for as long as you and Noah will have me," he adds as she rests her head against his shoulder. "I just don't wanna cause you any more pain than I already have."

"Ten years is a long time, Elliot," she reminds him, resting a hand on his stomach. "You've missed a lot. That was the darkest part but there were also lighter parts that I want to share," she adds. "As happy as you say you guys were in a city as beautiful as Rome, I'm sure you have your own stories to tell."

"True," he admits. "But not tonight," he tells her, leaning down to plant a kiss to the top of her head.

"It's been a lot," she says. "I should go."

Olivia gets up from the sofa but Elliot doesn't release her hand. She stares at him curiously.

"What's up?"

"You can't go," he says. "I promised Noah I'd take care of you."

"I don't want you making any more promises to my son," she says, sitting next to him again. "Tell me you understand that."

"I do and I won't but he knows…that you have bad dreams sometimes just not why," Elliot tells her. "He says he brings you water and let you cuddle with Mr. Platypus when it happens but...I think I can be helpful too."

He threads a hand through her hair, caresses her cheek with his thumb prompting her to close her eyes.

"After what you shared…neither of us will be sleeping well," he continues. "But if we're together—

"—El."

"Not like that," he clarifies, meeting her eyes. "I just think…we don't have to be without each other tonight. All the times we wish we could've physically comforted one another but couldn't—

"—Is an instinct we no longer have to suppress," she concludes.

"Something like that."

Elliot stands and holds a hand out to her. Olivia lets him pull her to stand and doesn't release his hold. She follows as he leads them towards his bedroom when he suddenly stops, turning to face her.

"Thank you for trusting me with your story, your vulnerability…your pain," he tells her. "Nothing I say or do can make up for not being here when you needed me the most," he adds, his voice affected. "I'll never forgive myself, Olivia."

She drops his hand in favor of putting both palms against his face.

"If I can work on forgiving you after living it," Olivia says, closing the distance between them. "You can do the same after only hearing about it," she adds. "He scarred my body and my mind, Elliot. He doesn't get to scar this too," she continues. "As terrified as it was to admit to myself, now that you're back, I very much need you to stick around."

She catches a lone tear on his cheek before it falls then pulls him in for a kiss. It's slow, sweet and ends much too soon for his liking.

"So, you think you can do better than a glass of a water and snuggles with a stuffed animal, huh?"

Elliot's eyes are bright when he laughs at the question.

"Yes, Captain. I do," he answers. "How does a scalp massage and holding you all night, sound?"

His adept fingers in her hair? The warmth and scent of him against her body? In his bed? Not a dream during a stakeout but in real life? It's Olivia taking his hand and leading him to his bedroom after that.

"As alternatives go…I think it'll suffice, Detective," she says, offering a wink and a grin.

Elliot smiles, shakes his head and happily follows.

The End.