A few days had passed in between surgeries. Her choice had become clear to her that night she stood, looking in the bathroom mirror. The next morning, she had solemnly given Doctor Keller her decision. Perhaps she had known what choice to make since the moment her options had been delivered to her.

Harder chemo, or more surgery.

She didn't bother to look at it from the perspective of odds. No numbers or figures showing her the chances and rates she would be faced with. In the end, she wanted this to be over faster. That mattered the most. The odds were obvious enough from the tone of the doctor's voice, she didn't need them printed in black and white.

In the end, the choices weren't really a choice at all. All she could've done was hold her head a little higher, put on a brave face, and hang onto her decision until the anesthesiologist had her counting backward from ten. Which is exactly what she did.

She hadn't anticipated that when she had walked into Sloan Kettering for the first surgery, she would be leaving with a much larger and much more invasive scar. There was only small talk in between. Elliot never left her side, from the first surgery to the second and the entire time between. There were no midnight discussions diving deep into the logic behind all of it. It was simplicity at its finest as she wallowed in the purgatory of her decisions. She had to disassociate for survival. So, she did.

He was right there with her, only he paid much more attention than she did. He held the straw to her lips when she was too weak to lift her glass. He ran the brush through her hair when the constant lying down began to tangle it. He held her hand when they came in to draw her blood, even when they both knew she would be fine without holding it.

Not a word of complaint left his lips as he slept in the chair beside her bed for the next week. Not even when the first two days after the second surgery consisted of her anesthesia making it impossible to hold foods down. He championed right there with her, not batting an eye at any of it.

Olivia Benson was the last person to ever admit she relied on someone, but she would be remiss if she didn't admit that Elliot had gotten her through this. Pride was far away at this point, only a quiet gratefulness for his presence.

There was a positive in the situation. A very small positive that was so small, it didn't feel welcome into the venn diagram of things that were worth being happy about. That positive was that she didn't need to wake up with a gaping hole in her chest. She vaguely remembered Doctor Keller calling it a dual procedure as he explained it to her. She wasn't listening too much, but she knew that they had planned to reconstruct her chest at the same time as they destroyed it. There was an irony there, she was just too tired to find it.

Having him as a doctor made things a little easier. He was gifted in his skills, and he fought the hard fight for his patients. The assembly of his team was state of the art; enough so that she didn't have to wait an indefinite amount of time and go through a million plastic surgery consults. Right then and there, they removed the cancer and rebuilt the wound it left.

As if nothing had even happened.

But it did. The scars that were left behind made that obvious enough.

She was grateful that the dysmorphia of looking in the mirror and seeing a missing piece of herself wouldn't be as prominent. Not that vanity would be her main concern; but the mental toll it would take was more obvious. So, she had that to be thankful for.

Her mind was too numb to be mad at the fact that those horrible things were still things to be grateful for. She would deal with that another time.

As much as she hated to admit it, there was a sense of relief when she had woken up in the recovery room. She still had to go through chemotherapy and radiation, but at least this meant that her entire life wasn't riding on it anymore. She could do the treatment and move on, it was only precautionary at this point. The beeping of the monitors had just about lulled her back to sleep before the realization had hit her; for all they knew, the cancer in her body was entirely gone.

Entirely. Just like that.

That was still something she needed to wrap her head around.

Her body could be benign now. They wouldn't know for sure until after the chemotherapy and wide array of scanning, but it wasn't a wildly out of reach assumption. The thought nearly moved her to tears; to be benign. She hadn't been benign in too damn long.

Elliot had driven her home five days after the mastectomy, and he hadn't left. Only a culmination of a few scattered chunks of time. He made pharmacy runs and grabbed a few items of food here and there, but most of his time was spent either on her couch or at her bedside. Despite being in her presence for as long as he had been, he couldn't pick up on what she was feeling.

She was unreadable now.

In her sickbed, newly scarred and still recovering, her energy was absolutely a mystery to him. She wasn't in her signature dissociated fog but she wasn't herself either. He wanted to stare at her, to watch and analyze her movements to figure out what the hell was running through her head. She barely spoke yet her eyes signaled that she was lucid and aware, just quiet.

There was something he wanted to bring up to her yet it was impossible to tell if the timing was right or wrong.

He watched her from the other end of the couch that had become his bed. The white afghan blanket around her shoulders shifted every few moments as she carefully raised her fork to her mouth. She had to adapt to the movements, he'd noticed. It was a careful mix of raising her arm and bending forward towards the plate; at least that way the pain was scattered in minimal amounts rather than all in one place.

They were watching the Giants game, sharing a silent meal of Chinese takeout. It was the first time in a long time that he wasn't focused on the game. She seemed to be; if an outsider was watching her. Her eyes were on the screen, but the stare was gone.

How could she be so okay, and yet not okay at all?

He'd had enough of poking around with his own food

"Hey, Liv. Can I talk to you about something?"

"Shoot."

Hesitation filled him and he suddenly regretted deciding to bring this up. "Well, with chemo coming up, you might need some help."

"Help?" She cocked her eyebrow as she looked over to him.

"Yeah, and I was wondering if maybe–" the pause was palpable for the both of them, tension beating in the air as if it was its own heartbeat. "Maybe, instead of some random nurses coming in and out of here to check on you, you might be more comfortable with it being me."

Caretaker. He wanted to be her caretaker in the disguise of a roommate.

"What are you saying, Elliot?"

She needed to hear him say it. Reality wouldn't set in for her unless he did. She needed to feel the idea of weakness that came with knowing she needed help.

"Well, the lease on my apartment is coming up soon. Maybe you'd wanna rent out your spare bedroom? To me? I mean... that way you won't have to be alone and I could stay with you." God, how he hated the anxiety of overstepping.

She was too tired to put up a fight; to scream about how damn independent she was and how she could be just fine without him. She was too tired to lie, because that's what it was at this point. A complete and utter lie. She hated herself for it, she hated the truth of knowing she relied on him with her whole life now. There was no dignity to retain anymore. Not with the hell that was soon to come.

She knew, deep down inside of him, he was aware of how painful it was to admit she needed his help. He didn't see her as a damsel in distress, despite how much help he truly gave her. It was a matter of not wanting her to suffer alone, while fully knowing that she could if she tried.

"What about your kids?" She croaked out the words as her eyes fell back down to the plate in her lap.

He had to admit, it was the last thing he expected her to ask. He was expecting the daggers to come forth and defend her integrity. "Uh, well — it's only the twins and Eli now, and the twins prefer not to spend the night with me. Eli spends the night two weekends a month with me, so I figured I'd rent a studio apartment nearby. That way on the nights that he is with me, we can stay there. Most of the time that the kids are with me, we aren't even home. We're usually out spending the day somewhere."

"Elliot," she started, feeling already incredibly exhausted by the conversation. "I would never stop you from bringing them here. I just wouldn't wanna scare them, y'know... with them seeing me sick and all."

"I don't want to impose, but I also don't want you to be alone. Eli's still little, he causes havoc wherever he goes." Elliot chuckled softly. "Tell me to fuck off right now and I'll drop it forever, but I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you and I wasn't here." He stared at her with distress in his eyes. He was deathly afraid of her being on her own.

She was just as afraid. He hadn't left her side in weeks.

"Is that gonna cause problems with Kathy and custody?" she asked. It wasn't a no, it wasn't yet a yes. She knew herself well enough to know that if she said no now, things would get bad and she'd be too proud to ask him for help.

His coffee had dripped over the ceramic white mug, leaving a brown ring on the table between the booth seats. He had arrived fifteen minutes earlier than planned, just enough for him to clear his head and prepare his arguments. He couldn't do that around Olivia, and it was nothing against her. But when he was around her, his emotions clouded his judgment. Looking at her, feeling her in the atmosphere was too strong.

Every time the bell above the door rang in the diner, he felt his heart speed up. This wasn't a conversation he had ever expected to have. He had to imagine that Liv had felt the same way a million times by now. It was never expected until it was.

The bell rang once more and without looking up, he knew it was her. He could sense from behind him that she was scanning the area, finally spotting him with his head hunched over his coffee. Just as he expected, a familiar frame with light blonde hair slid into the seat across from him.

"Hi, Kathy," he nodded, not bothering to force a fake smile onto his lips.

"Elliot," she greeted in return, setting her purse down onto the tabletop before clasping her hands together. This was how most of their conversations had gone since the divorce; civil and uneventful for the most part.

He forced himself to unclench his fists, he wasn't even aware he had tensed them in the first place. He didn't want to talk about this with her, not yet. But it was the only way anyone could move forward and figure out what the next option was. "Look, I wanna keep this as minimally complicated as possible."

Kathy frowned almost sympathetically. "What's going on, El? Is everything okay?"

He huffed out a sarcastic laugh. "Far from it." He looked away from her eyes, searching for a jumping-off point that would make this conversation easier. It wasn't anywhere in sight, and maybe it was because it didn't exist. "I need to talk to you about living arrangements and custody. A temporary situation."

She frowned once more, leaning back into the seat. "Wow, usually when your ex brings up custody, it's the start of a battle for more. Sounds like the opposite?"

"No, it's not what you think," he sighed, taking a sip from the burnt coffee. "I'm moving out of my apartment for a little while, and it's gonna cause a disruption. I'm actually - well, I'm moving in with someone for a short period of time."

"A girl friend," she pressed, offering a sly smile.

When he didn't smile back, she knew something was wrong.

"No," he stated firmly, his eyes boring into hers just long enough for her to see the agony beneath them. "A friend who needs help."

Kathy stayed silent, taking in a few short breaths as she searched for more answers along the lines of his face.

He hadn't even reached the hardest part of the conversation and a lump had already grown in his throat. "I'm going to rent a studio apartment nearby for the nights that Eli will be spending with me. The twins can stay too if they'd ever want to, but it'll be a tight fit. However, for the most part, I won't be living there."

Kathy nodded slowly, allowing the scenario to play out in her mind. It wasn't anything she was opposed to, not as far as she could see at least. "And... this friend who needs help?"

She wasn't leaving without an answer. This time, it would be his turn to break the news. The hardest part for Olivia had been soaking up every reaction she had gotten after divulging in the truth. Now, it was to be his experience too. "This whole situation is just... Kathy, this is the worst situation I've ever been in, and I've gone through a divorce with five kids in tow."

She leaned forward, covering his hands with her own in an attempt to console him. "Talk to me, what's wrong?"

He looked back up at her, sympathy radiating from the familiar blue eyes that weren't even all that familiar anymore. "Olivia... she has cancer," he mumbled.

He hadn't spoken those words yet to anyone. The people he spent the most time with already knew, there was no need to say it. There had never been a need to say it out loud until now. Saying it out loud felt like he had been hit in the chest with a hot poker.

Just as he had tried to shield his family from the horrors of his job, he had tried to shield everyone from this as well. He knew that each of them cared deeply for Olivia, and if he told one then he would need to tell all of them.

Kathy stared at him, dumbfounded by the news that she hadn't expected to hear in her wildest dreams. Olivia? The fucking superwoman who had kept her and Eli alive during the scariest moment of their lives? Olivia, the crusader who fought the hardest people in the city? Her head shook as she started to speak in a low whisper. "Elliot, I'm so sorry."

His eyes shot back up at her. "What? Why do you say it like that? I'm not the one going through it."

Her eyes softened with a sad smile. "Yes, you are," she stared into him the way she always used to do when she would try to get a message across to him. A way that, despite everything, only she knew how to do. "She's your best friend, your partner. Elliot, she's your better half. You and I were married for over 20 years... in that time, I think I learned enough about you to know that you've never been so heartbroken before in your entire life. If there was ever a way to knock you down and hurt your soul in the worst ways, this would be one of them."

He rolled his eyes at the fact that he felt tears beginning to form. "Yeah, anyway." He couldn't do this right now, not the emotional pouring of his soul. He needed Kathy to give him the thumbs up that she wouldn't sue his pants off for disrupting their custody agreement. Nothing more, nothing less. "I just wanted to run everything by you and make sure it was okay – with Eli and everything."

She watched her ex-husband begin to shut down in front of her, a sight she hadn't seen in quite a while. It was a sobering reminder of their everyday battles during their marriage. "Elliot... it's gonna be okay."

His eyes closed without his permission and he wanted to feel the calmness in her words. He just... didn't. It wasn't there to be felt, it was there to be heard. A customary response that never really penetrated the walls of truth. Anyone in this situation could tell you that. No matter what was said, no matter what comfort was offered, it was just about pointless. "Hopefully," he grumbled.

"Wow," Kathy blew a soft stream of air out from the side of her mouth.

Elliot lifted his head, frustration beginning to grow as the conversation continued. "What?"

She shook her head, giving him a pitiful smile. "Elliot Stabler without hope..." she trailed off, "It's not every day that you see something like that."

His jaw was clenched, but he hadn't realized until his teeth were aching from grinding down. He didn't want to indulge that thought of hers, to inspect his own internal amounts of hope. He hadn't spent much time focusing on whether or not it was there, and that was for a reason. If he looked inside himself and found none of it, he wasn't sure if it could ever regrow. He needed to give himself the benefit of the doubt.

Kathy slid out from her side of the booth, stopping as she walked over to his side. "Please keep me updated, and tell Olivia that I'm praying for her."

He glanced up at her, eyes dewy with unspilled tears. "I will... and Kath?" He paused, allowing a flicker of emotions to shine through his steeled demeanor. "Thank you for being understanding about the whole visitation and living situation. I really appreciate it."

She smiled sadly down at him before leaning over, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. "Of course. Take care of yourself, Elliot."

He stared down at the wooden grooves of the table, his eyes following each line as he let her soft words sink in.

It wasn't his job to take care of himself, not right now. He had a more important person to take care of.

She sat back in the exam chair, staring at the panels on the ceiling. Her arms were extended out from her sides as Dr. Keller thoroughly inspected her healing surgical wounds. Elliot was standing behind her, his arms crossed as he waited on standby for her. He could sense how uncomfortable she was, but also how hard she was trying to get through this.

The fluorescent lights burned in her eyes as she looked up and away from the uncomfortable poking. Her jaw was tightly clenched, but not in pain. Rather, it was tight in dreaded anticipation for what came next. Once he gave the signal that she was healing properly, he would also give her the all-clear to start treatment.

She wanted to say that it was bittersweet, but there was nothing bittersweet about it. Just sour. It had been a long road and somehow she was both closer to the end and yet never further from it. She had come all this way, she had traveled this road and she hadn't even started chemo and radiation yet.

Dr. Keller re-applied fresh dressing and gauze to the wounds, gently taping it away, as to protect it from the harshness of the world. As soon as he finished, she carefully re-buttoned her shirt and waited for what was next to come.

"Alright, Liv," he rolled away from her on the chair he sat in, signing a few pieces of paperwork before clasping his hands in his lap and staring at her. "You'll start chemotherapy next week, radiation following shortly after."

She nodded simply, the deep look in her eyes insinuating that she was anywhere other than in that doctor's office, and he knew that. He glanced over at Elliot, noting that the other man seemed to be already well aware of Olivia's despondency. At that moment, he made the decision to change his approach with her. She was a strong woman, he knew that, so maybe she needed to hear things in her own type of terms.

"You're about to go to war," he stated simply. His words rang in her ears like gunshots, pulling her irritated attention towards him once and for all. If anything, she seemed angry that he knew just how to break her out of her dissociated state. "You are on the cusp of the most intense battle of your life, Olivia, and it will not be easy."

She stared at him, fire forming in her irises as she bared her teeth hidden behind her lips. He was invoking a reaction in her that she wasn't prepared for, forcing her to go nose to nose with the truth.

"But if you ever hear me say something to you, let it be this — you have the upper hand." His words were urgent, and his stare was pleading. "You have the upper hand because as far as we know, there is a good chance that there is not a single cell of cancer left in your body right now. So, the chemo will only be fighting you. And you will be fighting the chemo. You only have to do this for a month, but it will be a month of hell. Do you understand?"

From across the room, Elliot eyed the back of Olivia's head with cautiousness. He didn't need to see her face to know that she was fuming. Alert, but fuming.

"Yes," she grit the words out angrily.

"You're a cop," he continued. "You always clear the room even after you've removed the perpetrator in an invasion. Right now, we are clearing the room. You still have to have your guard up, you still have to fear what might be behind each door, but you know that the worst part isn't inside anymore. Just a couple more doors before you walk out of here and go back to living your life, but it's not going to be easy."

Even in anger, she was on the verge of crying. For once, someone understood. As much as she wanted to punch him in the face, she appreciated his honesty.

"You're going to hate every minute of it. But every minute of it, you will be winning that war. It's almost over, you just need to keep fighting. You're good at that, Olivia." His expression spoke the highest truth which was that he was the type of man who understood her and her type. He knew that even without an internal battle of cancer, she was always fighting. She never stopped. So, false hope or gross amounts of pity didn't work on her. Only the hardcore truth, no matter how badly it stung. "So, if you can wake up every day and decide to keep going, you will win. Even when you don't want to, even when throwing in the towel seems so alluring. You keep fighting. Battle face, Olivia, this is it."

Tears stung in her angry eyes, but so did a quiet and underlying sense of appreciation. So many times in her life, she thought that the battle she was in would be the worst of all. Yet now, she knew. The only good part of knowing was that she could prepare. She could put on the gloves and know that she was stepping into the ring.

"Okay," she croaked out, nodding swiftly.

Maybe the honesty was all she needed.