Disclaimer: All characters belong to Dick Wolf and NBC. As always, anything you recognize isn't mine.

A/N: I'm not sure how long this will be; I'm shooting for three chapters, maybe more. Anyways, this idea's been floating around in my brain for a while now, so I figured I'd write it down now instead of day dreaming about Elliot during exams. (Which are, by the by, in two weeks, and I don't think I've got any nails left to chew. Ah, well. I'll hope for the best.)

Oh, also, just so you know, a bolded name is the start of that person's point of view.

Set somewhere season six/seven. Please forgive spelling errors ;)

TIME: 02:47 Elliot I'm cold. I'm cold, I'm tired, and I'm starving. I've got no idea as to exactly how long I've been down here, only that it seems like it's been an eternity since shit hit the fan, a long, long time ago. The room is sombre; the light is muffled because the tiny window up above is so dusty I could write his name in it with my finger. I fear the hour when the sun will disappear leaving total darkness in its wake. Because it's bad enough not having anything to defend myself with. Being blind and defenceless is marginally worse, in this case.

And to complicate things to an even larger degree, my partner is down here with me. My partner is trapped in this hellhole too, and it's entirely my fault.

Olivia hugs the wall as she paces, maybe looking for a weak spot in the cement, or maybe she's just restless from being in this enclosed space for so long. I know I should try to distract her, try to keep her entertained, but I'm irritable and she's pissed and we're both just so tired. If I try to make meaningless conversation, I know I'm walking on a fine line, and that she'll be waiting, circling like a shark when I trip and fall on my ass again. Because getting us stuck down here is just one more mistake to add to the long line of screw-ups I've treated us to these last couple weeks. Now I fear that if anything I say comes out wrong, she'll have me begging to die in less than a second. Like I said, she's really, really pissed off, and I can't say I blame her.

So, she paces and I pout in the basement, and we're like a couple of kids who find joy in giving each other the Silent Treatment. There's nothing pleasurable about fighting with Olivia, though, and even if I know we're being ridiculous, we've got more pressing matters on our hands that need to be taken care of immediately.

Like when this son of a bitch is going to come give us God damned food. It has been hours since his last visit, and I must say, I'd like to see his face just so I can pound it inward and get the fuck out of here. Or maybe I'm just through with sitting here looking at my partner try to find a way out, when it's obvious her efforts will go un-rewarded. There's no escape route. There's only the window, but it's too high to even think about, the chair in the corner. The rest is thick concrete and I'm sure as hell not that strong.

I sigh loudly and she shoots me a glare.

I stand up, and walk over to her cautiously. I may be gambling with my life, but step one to getting out of here is getting her to cooperate with me.

"Liv, come on."

"What?" She turns to face me, and she still shifts her weight from foot to foot. And I was right, she's restless. She wants to run free; she wants to stretch her limbs and fly and breath clean air again. She's never been the one to stay in one place for too long.

"You know the only way out of here is through that door." Yeah, that steel door that looks like it's about as thick as it is high. The one that we have no chance of getting through until that bastard decides he wants to play with his new pets again. And who knows how long that'll be. He might not even be home, for Christ's sake, and we're down here, forgotten.

Olivia shrugs and turns to the wall again. I'm sick of watching her be this way. She's coiled, like she's ready to spring, and her pupils are very wide. I grasp her wrist, because I just want her to sit for a while. Calm down a bit.

"Elliot, please, I need to be sure." Her dark eyes meet mine, and I look away quickly, because I can't stand what I see there. I shake my head once, quickly, and proceed to move my arm around her waist, guiding her to the centre of the room. She wrenches her wrist from my light grip.

"Liv, sit."

"Don't tell me what to do."

She sits.

TIME: 06:12Olivia

Everything looks the same here. These walls are made of concrete blocks, and the bricks are a maze before my eyes. It looks like stairs, the way they form the zigzag patterns on the surface. And the stairs are everywhere. On every wall, left, right, up and down. I think I'm so hungry now that I'm not anymore. I can't even explain how that makes sense. It's just a numbing sensation throughout my torso; sometimes the pain comes in waves. Sometimes I feel nothing at all.

Elliot tried to talk to me. He made an effort to keep me busy, but eye spy really sucks down here. And there isn't much we can talk about without breeching subjects that are strictly forbidden. Anything personal is disbarred, left alone to simmer in the both of us, doing it's own thing while we fight to keep ignoring it. If acknowledged, it might swallow me whole. Even something as simple as "So, what'd you do this weekend?" is much to individual. We don't share things like that anymore. Hell, we don't even share forks or water. I have to actually think about when the last time he ate off my plate was. It makes me sad, and I wonder if sometimes he even thinks about being my friend anymore.

I wish things could go back to normal, back to before, when it was simple because he was married and completely off-limits. Now, he's not tied down. Now, it isn't a question of being an honest person, but of fighting what we have with every last kick in the gut. At least, that's how I'm going about it because I cannot let myself go to him. I won't loose him on the job. I'm pushing him away because if he gets any closer to my heart he'll melt down all my walls. And that can't happen. Ever.

Before, I kept having adrenaline surges. They got me completely wiped, but they also kept me warm. I'm only just starting to realize how horribly cold it is down here. Even the crappy central heating back in my apartment is ten times better than this. I slept for a good while, closing my eyes and succumbing to fatigue because even though I was scared, I knew Elliot would have my back. It must have been the cold that woke me.

Now, Elliot sleeps beside me, we've decided to take turns. My head keeps lulling and flopping unceremoniously forward onto my chest, but I fight it – trust is vital and I can't let Elliot down. I need to get us out of here, because the others don't even know we're gone. It was a sudden lead; no one was there so we just left. Without backup, without even leaving a note. Now I see the grave mistake we've made. I suggested we check it out, so now I need to get us out of here. Take responsibility for my actions. Take care of Elliot.

I get up off the floor and walk toward the door. Elliot's body has been resting against mine, seeking warmth in his slumber, and now he slides sideways onto the floor. Before he can hit it, I reach under him and rest my hands gently under his head to cushion his fall. He sleeps like a baby and doesn't even stir. I'm glad I didn't wake him.

Elliot

Jesus, my back hurts. Someone ran me over with a freaking Mac Truck. Or I've been sleeping in the cribs for too long again. My blurry eyesight adjusts, and Olivia's form comes into view. Oh, right. Shit. Basement, trapped, concrete walls.

I sit up, and squint at her. What the fuck is she doing?

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Oh, you're awake."

"Yeah, want to tell me why you're up there?"

She's standing on top of her shoes, and sweater, and all three of them are precariously balanced on the chair underneath the window.

"I'm trying to get out."

I sigh heavily and run my hand over my face. "Liv…"

"Elliot! We can't just stay here and do nothing! We have to at least try."

I stumble to my feet, ignoring the pain in my back. "That's not going to work."

One thing I know about my partner but incessantly continue to ignore is that she hates to be criticized. Olivia is the kind of woman who will never admit to being wrong. She's so damned stubborn and on anyone else, it would just piss me off, but it's Olivia and I could never hate her, so I cease to be irritated by it.

As predicted, she tries to prove herself right. "You don't have any better ideas so be quiet."

I cup my hands to my mouth and blow on them, trying to warm them. I'm really hoping they don't fall off. I know my toes are a lost cause because I can't even feel them anymore. I can only hope they still exist. "Liv, you must be freezing."

She's taken off her shoes and her sweater, and her lips are a bizarre shade of blue, just around the edges. And I really can't let her get hypothermic. That would be disastrous. We both need to be able to function if we want to escape.

"Liv, come down."

She shoots me a look, but recedes and comes back to my side. I study the wall where she was for a few minutes.

"El?"

"Liv, if I put you on my shoulders, can you get out?"

Her face pales, and she goes quiet. Then, she gets very, very mad. "Oh, no. No, no, Elliot Stabler, I am not leaving this place without you!"

"Liv, if it's the only way, then-

"No! Just quit that right now. I'm not leaving without you." She repeats herself.

I grab her biceps and force her to look at me, my face inches away from hers. "Olivia, you are getting out of here."

She shakes her head vehemently. "Not. Without. You."

I groan loudly and push her away, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers. She's just so fucking stubborn. I speak lowly, trying to control my anger. "Can you make it out the God damned window or not?"

"I-

"Olivia?"

Silence, and then:

"Yeah." She whispers this quietly, her admission seeming to break her.

I reach over, searching for her in the dank area, and wrap and arm around her shoulder. "Then we have to do it, you understand that, right?"

"But I don't want to, El."

"I know. But you know that we need to get out of here, Liv."

She swallows thickly, her eyes wide.

TIME: 07:32Olivia

Everything is finalized. I'll try to break the window with my high heel boot when I'm up there, and then I'll try to fit my ass through the tiny window. Elliot has told me to follow any road or path, and get to the nearest phone and call Cragen. I would rather die than leave him here, but then I realize with a jerk that it is a matter of life or death. Leave him here and get help, or we risk dying down here.

"Alright, Liv, come here."

I walk over slowly to where he's leaning on the wall. We're both so weak and tires, and probably dehydrated, too.

Elliot pulls me tightly into his arms, his nose inhaling the scent of my neck. I warp my arms around his waist just a strongly, knowing that this is good-bye for a long while. When he pulls back, Elliot kisses my temple gently.

"Good luck, Liv. I trust you, you can do this."

I shake my head a little. "What if I can't?" My voice is small and shaky. If I fail, he'll surly die here.

"You can, Olivia. No, look at me." I have tried to look away as a tear runs down my cheek. "Hey, it's okay. You'll be fine. I have faith in you." His thumbs stroke soothingly over my cheeks.

I sigh deeply and nod. He takes my hand and leads me quickly over to the window, before either of us can have second thoughts.

Only everything soon goes to shit when we hear footsteps behind the door. We're so hungry that we're confused and slightly disoriented already; so neither of us has had much time to do anything to shield ourselves. So suddenly is the door flung open, and there's a gun to my temple and a hand around my throat, and Elliot's eyes hold a terrified expression at our compromising situation…

A/N: I'd really appreciate reviews, they'll motivate me to get writing on the next one, which will be up within the week if not earlier…but it all depends on if you like it…

Lol. Anyways, thanks for reading and until next time, everyone!