Volume Three, Chapter One: Shadows of the Past
The room was cold, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and made you question if you'd ever be warm again. Olivia Benson stood just inside the door, arms folded tight across her chest, her gaze fixed on the man at the table. William Lewis. Even in shackles, he radiated a strange, unsettling calm. The overhead bulb cast harsh shadows, making the hollows of his cheeks look deeper, his eyes more haunted.
She'd faced monsters before. She'd faced him before. But this was different.
He looked up, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. "Detective Benson. Or is it Captain now? I lose track."
Olivia didn't answer. She pulled out the chair across from him and sat, never breaking eye contact. Her badge was tucked away, her gun left outside the room. This wasn't about authority. This was about truth.
"You know why I'm here," she said, her voice steady but edged with steel.
Lewis tilted his head. "To gloat? Or to ask me how I sleep at night?"
She almost laughed. "I know you don't. Not anymore."
He shrugged, chains clinking softly. "Sleep is overrated. Nightmares are more honest."
They sat in silence for a moment, the air thick with everything unspoken. Olivia studied him—really studied him—for the first time since that awful night. He looked older, thinner. The arrogance was still there, but it was cracked, like a mask worn too long.
"You want answers," he said finally. "About me. About them."
Olivia nodded. "I want the truth. You owe me that much."
Lewis leaned back, the chair creaking. "You think I was born this way?" He gave a crooked grin. "What am I, Ellen DeGeneres? Did she have a choice? I wonder."
Olivia's lips twitched, despite herself. "I'm not sure that's the comparison I'd make."
He chuckled, a low, humorless sound. "Hey, even monsters need a sense of humor."
The smile faded as quickly as it appeared. He looked away, jaw clenched. "They broke me, Olivia. You want to know who 'they' are? The ones who turned me into this? You're not ready for that answer."
She leaned forward, voice low and urgent. "Try me."
He met her eyes, and for a moment she saw something—fear, maybe, or regret. "The CIA. Black programs. They take broken people and make them worse. Or they find people like me—on the edge—and push them over. I was given a choice: become the monster, or be eaten by one of their own. Not much of a choice, is it?"
Olivia's heart pounded. She wanted to be angry, to reject his story as another manipulation. But she'd seen too much, learned too much about the world's darkness to dismiss it out of hand.
"Why tell me now?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Because you're the only one who'll believe it. And because I'm tired, Olivia. Tired of being their weapon. Tired of being the monster."
She studied him, searching for the lie. But all she saw was exhaustion and pain.
"You want redemption," she said quietly.
Lewis barked a laugh. "Redemption? For me? I don't think that's in the cards."
"Maybe not," Olivia conceded. "But you can help us. Help stop them from doing this to anyone else."
He looked at her, something like hope flickering in his eyes. "And what do I get in return?"
"A chance," she said. "Maybe not at freedom. But at peace."
He was silent for a long time. Then, softly, "You're still the best thing this world's got, Olivia. Even if it doesn't deserve you."
She felt the old anger rise, but she pushed it down. "Don't flatter me, Lewis. Just tell me what you know."
He nodded, resigned. "There's a file. Hidden in a safehouse in D.C. Names, dates, operations. Proof. But you'll never get to it. Not without help."
"We have help," Olivia said. "More than you know."
He arched an eyebrow. "You're running with some interesting company these days. Gibbs, Penelope, that genius kid Sylvester. You think you can trust them?"
"I trust them more than I trust you," she said.
He smiled again, sad this time. "Smart. But you'll need me, too. I know the codes. The traps. The people who'll kill to keep this buried."
Olivia stood, gathering herself. "Then you're coming with us."
He looked up, surprised. "Just like that?"
"Not just like that," she said. "You're still in chains. But you're not alone anymore. Not if you help us."
She walked to the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. "You think you know monsters, Olivia," Lewis called after her. "You haven't seen the ones who made me."
She turned, meeting his gaze one last time. "Maybe not. But I'm done letting them win."
As she left the room, the air felt a little less cold. The past was still there, heavy and sharp, but for the first time, Olivia felt the faintest glimmer of something new. Not hope, exactly. But maybe the beginning of it.
And somewhere, deep in the shadows, the real monsters stirred.
End of Chapter One