A/N: I found this story I started some time in 2020. I got me stuck but I enjoyed it enough to try and finish it. Hope you do too. Takes place in S11.

Sierra Jackson and her piece of shit boyfriend Ronald "Ronnie" Watson are being pursued by several of NYPD's finest, including Elliot and Olivia. They investigated Ronnie for felony domestic assault, just three days ago when Sierra was brought into Mercy General nearly beaten unconscious. Both arrived with the story of finding her at the base of a staircase, after he'd come home from work.

The emergency room nurses called bullshit and the Special Victims Unit after they saw the healing bruises, no doubt made my Ronnie's fists along with the new ones. He was dutifully at her side when the two detectives found them in a room of the ER bay.

Sierra's left eye was nearly swollen shut, her lip was cut but no longer bleeding, the right arm peeking out from the oversized hospital gown was covered in bruises and her left wrist was in a newly applied ace bandage.

Ronnie was in a chair at the bedside laying on the tears and playing the sorrowful and doting boyfriend, trying to convince people that he blamed himself for not being there when she needed him.

"God only knows how long she was layin' there before I came home," he told Elliot, taking Sierra's uninjured hand. "I'm just glad she didn't have our son when she fell."

"I know what you mean," Elliot told him. "My ex had a bad habit of putting my kids on her hip when she went down to do laundry in the basement. "I don't know how many times I had to get on her about how dangerous that could be."

"Then you understand," Ronnie said. "But you know women," he added, returning his gaze back to a quiet Sierra. "They never seem to listen no matter how often you repeat yourself."

"I know exactly what you mean," he told the man, eying his partner.

"I'm thirsty," Olivia announced. "El, you mind getting me something from the cafeteria?"

The two detectives exchange a moment of wordless conversation before he responds.

"I'm pretty sure your legs aren't broken" he told her. "So, scurry on down there yourself and while you're at it bring me back a Coke."

"A simple no would've sufficed, Detective."

Elliot stepped menacingly toward her.

"Excuse me?"

Olivia flinched at his raised voice, put her head down and took a step back.

"I-I was just saying," she began meekly. "You could be nicer," she added, eying the floor. "It's unprofessional."

"Right, unprofessional," he repeated, quieter. "Wouldn't want you to tell the captain how 'unprofessional'," he began, making air quotes. "I'm being."

Olivia stepped further into the room, closer to Sierra's bed, aligning herself with the woman.

"I wasn't gonna—

"— No, just forget it," he interrupted, turning his attention to their suspect. "Ronnie, I just have a few more questions, you mind coming to the cafeteria with me?" He asked. "Then we can get back to chasing some real criminals," he added, turning a terse eye on his partner.

"Sure okay," he answered. "Happy to help," Ronnie added before turning to Sierra. "I'll see if they have that iced tea you like, Baby."

He reverently leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, one of the few places she wasn't bruised, and still…she flinched.

"Be back soon," he said.

Once they were alone, Olivia got the truth out of Sierra about what really happened and how apologetic her boyfriend had been since.

"He always says he's sorry," she said. "But then..."

"I know," Olivia surmised. "The sweetness only lasts for so long before he's angry and violent again."

Sierra nodded in agreement, but she wasn't ready to get help or pursue charges. When Elliot and Ronnie returned with the drinks, she happily accepted her tea and the flowers he'd bought from the gift shop.

Two weeks later, Ronnie arrived slightly drunk at Fleishman's market to pick her up from her job as an assistant manager. Instead of making a scene and refusing to go with him, she hurried to the car where she was surprised to find he'd left their one-year-old son, Jaden.

"What were you thinking leaving him alone?" She asked, looking at his sleeping form lying on the back seat.

"He's fine," he answered. "I was only gone for a minute."

"And where is his car seat?" She continued. "He needs to be strapped in."

"Quit bitchin'," he told her, turning to look at the slumbering little boy. "We're only twenty minutes from home."

She leaned her head against the seat, running a frustrated hand through her hair before resting her elbow on the door and looking over at him.

"Maybe I should drive."

"What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"I can smell the alcohol on your breath Ronnie."

"I only had a couple of beers so I don't need you lecturin' me," he scolded, starting the throaty engine. "You're startin' to sound like that bitch I work for."

They began arguing back and forth all the while Ronnie continued to tip up the bottle he brought with him, no doubt finishing off a six-pack. Recognizing the potential of a worsening situation, Sierra surreptitiously dialed Olivia who overheard the argument and the threats Ronnie made against her.

She and Elliot had TARU triangulate the cell but a black-and-white tried to pull the Charger over for speeding before the detectives could get to them. Drunk and angry Ronnie is unsurprisingly nowhere near as willing to listen to reason as he was when sober.

"Baby please just, stop the car," Sierra pleads.

"Fuck that and fuck you too," he spits. "If you just took the subway I wouldn't be in this shit to begin with!"

Between their arguing and the sirens, little Jaden has woken up and his crying is competing with the noise of the police chasing them. By the time Olivia and Elliot joins the pursuit, Ronnie is not only speeding upwards of eighty miles per hour, he's erratically weaving in and out of traffic.

"Their son's in the car El," Olivia says, cell glued to her ear, listening to the cacophony on the other end. "We gotta get Cragen to call this off before—

She doesn't get to finish her sentence before they watch in horror as Ronnie takes a turn too fast, flipping the car several times before crashing into a median. Two uniforms manage to get Sierra out and another two catch Ronnie and arrest him as he tries to flee.

"Where's Jaden?" She asks. "Where's my son?"

After Elliot looks inside the wreckage and comes up empty, the uniformed officers spread out to look as an ambulance arrives.

It's Olivia who finds Jaden.

"Here," she screams, getting everyone's attention. "He's over here!"

The boy lay face up on the pavement after being thrown from the car.

His eyes are open, unseeing.

The boy is still.

Quiet.

The pool of blood beneath his tiny head slowly grows.

Emergency personnel scoop him up instantly, rush him into the bus and began working on him as they race with full lights and sirens to the nearest hospital. Olivia drives a nearly hysterical Sierra in the squad car behind the ambulance.

"He's not gonna die, right?" She begs, looking to the detective for reassurance. "He's only a year old, he can't die," she sobs.

"I'm sure they're doing all they can," Olivia tells her.

She listens as the younger woman begs and pleads with God not to let her son succumb to his injuries. Sierra offers up her own life and promises she'll finally leave Ronnie if only Jaden's life would be spared.

The paramedics rush him inside with Sierra and Olivia close behind.

The two women watch through a window as a team of doctors and nurses yell out orders to hook him up to monitors, hang fluids and push medications all in a futile attempt to save the boy's life.

His time of death is called at 6:38pm.

Sierra is so overcome with grief that she has to be admitted, sedated and put on a twenty-four-hour suicide watch.

Olivia drives back to the station, types up the report then gets a small box from the dusty file room. She puts the folders from her inbox, picture frames, her coffee mug and a couple of her favorite pens inside. When her desk is clear she looks to her left to find that her boss's light is still on and decides to deliver her last DD-5 personally.

She knocks twice before walking in. Cragen's standing, finishing up a call before hanging up and giving her his full attention.

"You're here late," Olivia comments.

"Gotta give explanations to the brass and redirect calls from the press," he explains. "Not to mention everything I planned on getting done before the shit hit the fan."

"I don't envy that chair you sit in," she tells him, leaning against the doorframe, hands stuffed into her pockets. "Especially today."

Cragen looks over her shoulder at the box sitting on her desk.

"Something on your mind Liv?"

"Yeah, I…" she tries, before taking a deep breath and exhaling. "It's been a rough day," she manages, stepping further inside the room.

He rounds his desk, closes the door and gestures for her to take a seat before taking up his post again.

"No harder than any other in this unit," he points out.

Olivia gets flashes of the little boy's tiny bare feet as he lay on the table, then attempts to shake the images of his lifeless eyes from her mind. She unclips the badge from her waist, unholsters her weapon and lays them both on his desk.

"I uh, I'm done here Captain," she tells him. "I can't do this anymore."

"Cases like these…the kids," he begins with a heavy sigh. "They've always been the worst kind for anyone to deal with," he adds. "But that's the job detective and with eleven years here you know that just as well as I do. So, what's different?"

"He wasn't the case Cap," Olivia starts. "Jaden wasn't abused physically or sexually but he was…he was collateral damage," she explains. "And after they stopped working on him, I didn't even have the strength to prop up Sierra Jackson," she adds, voice full of emotion. "I'm just…so damn tired."

Cragen comes from behind has desk and leans against it where she sits.

"So, rest," he offers, temporarily placing a hand on her shoulder. "You have plenty of time on the books," he suggests. "Take what you need."

"What if that's not enough?" She asks, tears falling down her cheeks. "What if I still don't have it in me to do this work anymore?"

"Then you call," he answers. "And I'll see what I can do about a lateral transfer somewhere a little lighter," he continues. "In the meantime, I suggest getting the hell out of this city."

Olivia nods in agreement as she accepts the box of tissues he offers.

"You're one of, if not the strongest person I've ever had the pleasure of working with," Cragen tells her. "But we all have our breaking point Liv and I don't want you to end up being someone's collateral damage."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah," she answers, managing a small smile. "I'll take some time, see if it helps."

"I hope it does," he tells her, returning her credentials and Glock.

"Me too," she says accepting them before moving towards the door. "I'll take a few days to finish the paperwork on my open cases…one less thing to do if you have to bring in someone else."

"Sounds good."

With her hand on the knob, she turns back to him, something suddenly dawning on her.

"What about Elliot?"

Cragen returns to the chair behind his desk as the phone begins ringing again.

"He's a big boy Olivia," he answers. "His recently finalized divorce proves his ability to deal with change without reverting back to his same old angry self," he offers. "He'll be fine."

"I know Cap," she tells him. "I just meant the caseload," she explains. "Though I do feel bad leaving him without a partner again," she adds. "Without warning…again."

"Try something different for once, Liv. Take care of yourself and quit worrying about everybody else," Cragen asserts. "I'll deal with Elliot."

Overwhelmed with the emotion of the day, she simply nods and takes her leave.

Olivia calls a friend on the way home, packs a few bags and drives until the source of her stress is in the rearview mirror.

She's used to living in a city of eight million plus. The village of Bayville maybe has eight thousand. It is quaint, quiet and thanks to a sorority sister that owns a currently unused beachfront property, home for the rest of the summer if need be.

After being accused and arrested for murder tainted her mid-life crisis on wheels, she traded the classic black Mustang for a more sensible mid-sized SUV. Though not as throaty as her sports car, the color is the same, she appreciates the hands-free Bluetooth and the sunroof even more as she opens it for her drive.

She lets the windows down and turns the radio up as an 80's station on her satellite radio is the soundtrack to her venture outside the city. Olivia cries much of the way there but vows to dry her tears and try to relax as she pulls into the driveway.

When she sees the house, she checks her GPS again to make sure it's the right place. It's lit up with outdoor lighting and every bulb inside the home has been left on. All via a security system and a fancy app on her friend's cell.

Olivia gets her on the line as she unloads the luggage.

"Hey Kim," she says. "I just made it," she informs her. "When you said you had a little spot on the beach –

She hears the other woman laugh.

"I know, I know," she interrupts. "I inherited it when my dad passed away a few years ago," she adds. "Spent summers there with my two brothers so feel free to use whichever bedroom is the most comfortable."

"Well, I appreciate you loaning it to me," Olivia at tells her. "I don't need all the room but I sure as hell need the opportunity to get away and clear my head," she admits. "Thank you again for this."

"I've been trying to get you up there for years Liv," Kim says. "So, there's no 'thank you' necessary," she adds. "I texted you the code to the alarm system and once you get inside, there's a spare key on the coffee table in the family room."

"Okay," Olivia tells her as she keys in the code, entering the house. "Kiss my God niece for me, tell Sean I said hello and enjoy Australia."

"Will do and…Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"There's nothing wrong with laying down your cape," Kim offers. "You've done a lot of good for a lot of people," she contends. "And no one's gonna tell you any different."

"I haven't made any decisions yet," Olivia tells her. "But thanks."

"You're welcome," Kim says. "Take care of yourself."

"Working on it."

"Bye Liv."

"Bye Kim."

Olivia ignored several calls from Elliot on the drive up. No doubt he pressed Cragen about the cleanliness of her desk once he was done processing Ronnie Watson at Central Booking. She knew it was only a matter of time before he'd start calling.

Then texting.

7:42pm - Call me back

8:12pm - We need to talk

8:37pm - Don't do this shit to me again!

8:52pm - Call me…please

Her phone chimes and vibrates in her hand almost causing her to drop it when another text message comes through.

9:05pm – Talk to me partner

That is of course, the message that gets her to make the decision to return his calls. She unpacks her things in what she assumes is the master bedroom, showers in the connected bathroom and changes out of her work clothes before dialing his number.

He picks up after two rings.

"Liv what's going on?"

"I uh, I need to step away Elliot," she answers. "At least for now."

"So that's it?" He asks. "You weren't gonna tell me or talk to me about it?"

Olivia takes a deep breath before releasing it. She slides the door open to the bedroom's patio and steps out into the cool night air.

"I couldn't think past seeing that little boy on the table El," she explains, wrapping her arms around herself. "My first thought was how I can't do this shit anymore," she adds. "And my second included cleaning out my desk and handing my badge and gun over to Cragen, which is what I did."

"But he said –

"— He talked me into taking a break in lieu of resigning," she interrupts. "So that's what I'm doing Elliot," she asserts. "I'm taking a much-needed break and getting some perspective on my life."

It's quiet on the line as she leans against the railing of the balcony. Despite the darkness, Olivia can see the ocean that lies not twenty feet from the house. The smell of it permeates her senses and the sound of crashing waves will replace her usual lullaby of honking horns, yelling voices and the general cacophony of the city.

"How long this time?" He asks, his raspy voice breaking the silence.

Olivia doesn't know which is worse, hearing the raw emotion or the fact that she's the cause of it.

"I don't know," she admits. "Cragen told me to call when I knew for sure…one way or the other."

"There was a time you told me you couldn't walk away from the job," Elliot says, reminding her how different they were back then. "So, if this is what you've decided –

"— I haven't decided anything yet," she interjects. "That's what this whole thing is about El," she adds. "It gives me the time and breathing room I need to make sure that staying at SVU is the right path for me," she goes on. "Without it just being some emotional response to what happened tonight, without thinking it through first, without –

"— Letting me talk you out of it?"

Now she's the quiet one.

"No," she manages. "That's not –

"— Why is it you can never just tell me to my face?"

"It's not about you Elliot."

Not this time.

"As two people in my life very recently pointed out, it's time I started thinking about what's best for me," she tells him. "That could mean taking a vacation and returning to SVU or a lateral transfer to another unit," she informs him. "But either way, I need to do this."

"And you deserve to," he admits. "Just…promise me one thing?"

"You still have first dibs on that kidney," she says, trying to lighten the morose tone of the conversation.

It falls on deaf ears.

"Liv."

"Yeah," she answers. "Just ask."

"If you decide to leave for good," he begins. "I don't wanna hear it from anyone else."

"Okay."

"And I don't want an email, or a text message, or a –

"— I get it Elliot," she cuts him off. "If I decide to leave SVU and sever our partnership…" she begins and needs to stop.

Olivia hadn't realized what saying those words out loud would do to her.

"…sever our partnership."

Her eyes suddenly burn with the threat of new tears and her throat grows dry as she tries to swallow past them and what they'll do to her voice.

"Liv?"

"I'm here," she manages. "I promise to tell you in person."

She hears the rustling of keys and thinks he must've stopped at a bar and had a few before going home.

"You okay?" He finally asks.

"No but…I think this is the first step in working on that."

"G'night, Liv."

"Night, El."

End A/N: What do you think?