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It happened so quickly.
One minute he was questioning Meredith Rice, the principal who had molested a twelve year old boy. She was no different than any other offender - sure, her abuse of power certainly brought up memories from his own days at a Catholic school, but he was an SVU detective. Every case should remind him of that.
But it’s not every case that the suspect assaults him. He doesn’t know how it happened, but she went from pressed against the wall of the interview room, denying everything, to pressing herself against him, smashing her lips into his. He pulled away, shaking his head.
“Not a good idea,” he told her, his arms going out to grab her and cuff her. And that was when it happened; her hand grabbed his crotch, massaging for the moment he allowed it to. Suddenly, all he could remember was Father Daniels doing the same thing to him. He was grown now, though, and he could fight back. He wouldn’t be overpowered this time. He shoved, as hard as he could.
The thud of Rice’s body hitting the wall brought him back to reality. He was frozen, watching her sink down to the floor, her eyes rolling back into her head. He was panting, couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Which was weird because he hadn’t been exerting himself.
The door to the interview room swung open, Olivia bursting in. “Elliot, you okay?”
He glanced at his partner, the words I’m fine on the tip of his tongue. Something stopped them from coming out, and judging by her face, she noticed. Before she could ask anything else, though, Rice started seizing, her whole body tensing up, froth forming at her mouth.
“She’s seizing!” He shouted, kneeling next to her and lowering her body onto the ground. He stifled the shudder that tried to run through his spine when touching her. Not now, he insisted to himself. Not here. Not now.
Huang hurried in, tapping Elliot out. He could feel the disassociation start, everything around him seeming to have a faint fuzz. He blinked, and there were two more officers accompanying Huang. Another blink, and he was being pulled away from the doorway so the paramedics could get through. A third and he was watching Rice be carted away to an ambulance.
“El?” Someone was calling his name. He shook his head, momentarily breaking through the fog. He turned, seeing Olivia’s concerned face.
“Are you okay?” She asked again. He nodded, looking around the room. Anywhere but her eyes. That was the thing about Liv; she could read his eyes so well, better than anyone he’d ever met. If she saw his eyes, she would know he was lying.
“We need to go to the hospital,” he told her, clearing his throat.
“I’ll drive,” she said. Part of him wanted to argue; did she think he couldn’t drive? That he was in shock? That he was weak and cowardly and-
“Sure.”
He grabbed his jacket on the way out, despite having no intention of wearing it. It was a chilly fifty-five outside now that the sun had set, but he could feel sweat beading on his back. And, not that he would consciously admit it, he was still fighting the faint feeling of suffocation that would only be worsened by his thick wool coat.
As he sat in the car, everything started to turn fuzzy again. Blink, there’s the corner store they stop at for coffee on slow mornings. Blink, they’re at the hospital and Liv is tapping his shoulder.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked again as they walked into the emergency department.
“My answer won’t change when you ask again,” he said, trying to be sarcastic, but the softness and flatness of his tone failed to convey his intent.
“You never answered,” she pointed out. He pursed his lips, and still didn’t answer. Liv noticed things, but she wouldn’t push, at least not at first. He was going to use that to his advantage.
They sat in the waiting room - rather, Liv sat and he paced - listening to the TV news anchor detailing the weather report for the next ten days. He knew if he sat, things would go fuzzy again, and he needed to stay sharp. So, he paced back and forth, each step grounding him in the present. He paced often enough that it wasn’t weird for Liv to see him like that, or at least, that’s what he assumed. At some point, though, he turned and Liv was standing in his path, forcing him to stop.
“I’m getting dizzy just watching you. Why don’t you sit down? Drink some water?” She held out an unopened bottle, and he immediately wondered if she had gotten it just for him. Because he was weak and cowardly and hysterical and-
“I didn’t push her that hard,” he found himself saying. “I really didn’t.”
“I know, El,” she sighed.
“But maybe-”
“ El, ” her sudden, sharp tone interrupted. Whispering, she alerted, “Rat incoming.”
He turned around and sure enough, there was Internal Affairs. He should have guessed that they would be questioning him. After all, he pushed a suspect and the suspect had a seizure immediately after. Logical cause and effect said he was to blame. Was he?
“Detective Stabler,” the rat greeted. “I need to ask you some questions about Mrs. Rice.”
“Didn’t know internal affairs backed pedophiles now,” Olivia questioned.
“We do when a detective shoves them so hard sustain brain damage and start convulsing.”
“I didn’t do that,” Elliot argued weakly.
“You didn’t push her?” The rat raised an eyebrow.
“I did, but-”
“He was sexually assaulted by Rice. If a lady grabbed your boys, I would wager you’d do just what Elliot did,” Olivia stepped in. The rat snapped back, but Elliot’s attention was gone as he turned and took a few steps away, trying - and failing - to ground himself.
That stupid phrase. It was always that stupid phrase. “Sexually assaulted.” Is that what he was? Just another victim? Helpless, weak, taken advantage of…
“If you didn’t want it to happen, it wouldn’t,” he remembered his father telling him sternly after he tried to confess what Father Daniels was doing. “Now, make no mention of this to anyone. Either it stops, or you must enjoy it. Whatever it is, no son of mine would do this.”
He could have stopped her after the kiss. Before the kiss. He’s been a detective for how long now? Fifteen years? He should know what the suspect is about to do, read their body language and predict. And yet he hadn’t. Maybe he wanted it to happen. Maybe it was his fault.
“Feeling guilty, Stabler?” The rat’s voice was distant. Even IA could read his body language, and yet he couldn’t read Rice? Who would believe that?
“Do not tell lies, Elliot. You enjoy this,” he could hear Father Daniels insisting. He held his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes. Not here, not now. Not here, not now. Maybe if he repeated it enough, his brain would listen.
“El.”
“Weak, cowardly… that’s all you are, Elliot. And the Lord knows. I can grant you forgiveness, but first, you must do penance.”
“El, breathe.” There was a hand on his shoulder. He pulled away like it burned. Maybe it did.
“Yes, Elliot. Good. We can make a fine man out of you yet.”
“Fuck,” he groaned, clenching his fists so hard he could feel his nails dig into his palms. The pain grounded him, brought him back to the present. The rat was gone; he didn’t know where, but also didn’t care. Either they would discipline him or not. All of his years on the force taught him that if IA wanted to take someone down, there was nothing anyone could do or say to stop them.
“Sit down, El. Come on,” Olivia urged him.
“No,” he said sharply. She was momentarily taken aback by his tone, recovering quickly.
“Please, just talk to me. What’s going on?”
He scoffed. “You’re not the only one who joined SVU for personal reasons,” he found himself saying in a low tone.
“What?” She said, confused, before starting to understand what he was saying. “Are you saying…”
He met her eyes for the first time that evening, letting her read him because God knows he wasn’t brave enough to say it.
“El, what happened to you?” She mumbled, furrowing her eyebrows.
“Detectives?”
He pulled away, hurrying over to meet the doctor. Liv followed after him. As the doctor talked, explaining how Rice had a brain tumor that caused her seizures and Elliot was not at fault, he could feel his partner’s eyes burning into his cheek. He was filled with regret; why did he tell her? Now he could feel her judging him. Men didn’t get sexually assaulted. Men could fight back. So why didn’t he?
“... she’ll be in the hospital for a while, so I’ll give you a call when she can answer questions.” The doctor finished.
“Thanks, Doc. I’ll stop by tomorrow, see how she’s doing,” he forced himself to sound normal. Fake it till you make it, right?
“Of course. Have a good evening, detectives.”
He cleared his throat, glancing down at the floor. “Let’s get going. Want me to drop you off?”
“El, we need to talk about this.”
“About what?” He played dumb, walking towards the door. She rushed to keep up with him.
“Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out,” she pleaded.
“Liv…” He started, pausing just outside the ambulance bay.
“No, Elliot. You can’t just tell me that and pretend like nothing happened. I don’t even know if you’re okay,” she expressed, her normally reserved tone replaced by genuine worry. He felt a pang of guilt; she shouldn’t worry about him.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m good.”
“Was it at Catholic school? At home? Was it recent, when you were a kid, somewhere in between?” She pressed.
“Olivia, stop!”
They both froze. His chest heaved as he was once more struggling to catch his breath. Liv stared at him with barely hidden betrayal.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Not now, not ever. Is that clear?” He said sternly. Just like his father…
“Yeah,” Olivia answered after a pause.
“Good,” he sighed, opening the driver’s side door. With a softer tone, he told her, “I’ll drop you off at home.”
The drive was silent, and they exchanged forced pleasantries when he dropped her off. He barely made it around the corner before breaking down, silent tears tracking down his cheeks as his mind replayed every penance Father Daniels ever made him perform. He would go home that night, kiss his kids goodnight and curl into bed next to his wife, replacing his carefully-crafted mask. Olivia would be hurt for a while by his distance, but even she would get over it. And things would be back to normal.