This has only slightly to do with the song "Bleeding Love" by Leona Lewis. I've been listening to it nonstop, and well, I'm bad with titles.

I wrote some of this a loooong time ago with the idea that this would eventually become part of "She Is." I changed up my game plan, however, and this doesn't fit anymore, so, voila! A two-shot was born. :)


He'd come to her, weeks ago, looking for comfort after a case. Somehow, it had spiraled into an everyday event, him arriving at her doorstep minutes after he dropped her off. Neither could stay away, but both were afraid to say why. Simple physical intimacy had become the norm, so much so that he'd reached for her hand at a crime scene.

She wants to send him home to his wife, to his infant and his teenage twins, but he's told her this is what he needs, she is what he needs.

She knows that he's wrong, but she can't bear to turn him away.

They are lying stretched out on the couch, Elliot cradling Olivia to his chest, stroking her ever-changing hair as she plants feather light kisses on his neck. She nips his skin ever so slightly before remembering her place.

Partner. Best friend. Friend with benefits, even. But not yours to claim. Not yours to leave something visible to the world. He's chosen his wife, his children, and she is merely helping him see what he isn't missing.

This too shall pass.

He feels the gentle scraping of her teeth, followed by the hesitation in her breath, the shifting of her legs. He knows what this physical relationship is doing to her, to both of them, but he is powerless to stop it.

"Mark me, Olivia."

"But, El-" she begins to protest.

"Mark me, Liv. I'm yours in all the ways that matter."

As her lips descend to his neck, she revels in this small gift she's been given. He is not hers to claim, and yet...She will take what she is given. Her teeth meet his skin, the soft flesh of the right side of his neck. She bites down with a purpose, gentle yet sure to bruise. She tongues his neck, sucking and nipping, straining for something she normally found adolescent. Meanwhile Elliot is leaving a brand all his own with his hot fingertips slipped just under her waistband, his gentle moans against her earlobe.

She thinks vaguely how ridiculous it is for two forty-somethings to be making out to the strains of a Knicks game, but pushes the thoughts from her head. This was her moment with him, and she wanted to remember every breath he took.

Satisfied with her ministrations, she nuzzles his chin. "Thank you," she breathes, so quiet that they're both unsure if she said the words aloud.

"My turn." He grins at her, gentle, before rolling her onto her back, gracing her body with his weight. But instead of going for her neck, he kisses a trail down her blue t-shirt. He looks up to her eyes for permission, silence speaking loudly. I'll wear the burden to the outside world, Liv, but you'll know that you're mine in your heart.

Sensing her assent, he rolls up the frayed hem of her top. He chooses his spot carefully, picking the place where he knows her badge will rest in the morning. This spot, these marks, they are the symbols of a partnership too complicated for the outside world.

He breathes in her scent, the vanilla still on her skin after a long day of work. As soon as his lips burn her skin, she cries out, nestling her hand in his cropped hair.

"Shhh," he mumbles. As he marks her flesh, she swallows back a sob. She knows this is all she'll ever have of him, and all at once it is too much and never enough. He wishes this mark was permanent, so that she could always carry with her a reminder of his feelings, his devotion to her.

He crawls back upward, kissing her eyelids, waiting for her gaze. While he stares straight back at her, he kisses her full on the mouth, a violation of their unspoken rules.

"I'd give away everything I have for you, Olivia, if only you'd let me," he says against her lips. And with that, he tucks himself behind her, curling their bodies together on a couch not nearly big enough to hold their regrets.

--

A week later, she leaves him again. Hops a plane to somewhere warm, somewhere the excuse of expensive phone calls will keep her from checking in like she promised. He decides not to ask her where she's going, because he doesn't want to end up chasing her around the globe. He loves her enough to respect her choices, even if they kill him in the end.

He wonders if he pushed her too hard, if he asked her for something she could never give. He knows he was a bastard, staying married and spending every moment he could away from his vows.

He could blame it on Olivia. She was the one who insisted that he now leave Kathy, that he should give his family another shot. In his quest to please her, to prove to her that he would do whatever she asked, he failed to hear the silent request.

She'd wanted him to make the move anyway.

She was never the other woman, not to him. She was the woman. But maybe he didn't make that clear.

Dammit, of course he didn't make that clear. He was still married! She would never know what she meant to him because he'd never showed her with his actions.

--

She doesn't know what to do with herself. She's out on the beach, watching kids build sandcastles, and she's shivering as if she's walking in the snow.

She realizes that maybe Elliot was the source of her warmth.

It's no matter now. She'll have to find something else here on the opposite side of the world, because she's never going to find someone else.

One more week, she thinks, one more week and then she'll call him. He deserves to know the truth of why she left, and he deserves her goodbye.

"Partners aren't forever," she's been told, but god, she'd never thought they'd end.


Second half should arrive tomorrow!