Summary: Olivia is trying to be strong after Sealview. Is Elliot the strength that she really needs?
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Dick Wolf. Anything you recognize isn't mine!
Spoilers: Big spoilers for Undercover!
A/N: Hey guys, please enjoy and remember to leave a review! This is my first fic ever.
"Liv, you must be tired. Go home, get some sleep."
"El, I'm fine."
She tries not to roll her eyes. It isn't like she doesn't appreciate his concern – she does, but she hates to be told what to do. She's almost forty; she knows how to take care of herself. And she's so, so sick of everyone silently assessing her mental state every thirty seconds, and trying to make it seem like, no, they aren't actually invading her privacy. She's tired of sideways glances, and she's tired of Elliot hovering over her constantly like she's going to suddenly lose control.
It's sweet of him, but she really, really needs to know that in these shocking moments, she's still independent. She needs to assure herself that she can continue to manage on her own. She needs to show everyone that she's still the same Olivia Benson that she was six days ago.
Yes, she had been thrown in a fucking hellhole.
Yes, she'd suffered through the incessant insults and severe mistreatments.
Yes, it had been close. Way too fucking close.
But by the grace of God, she'd got out. Alive. Safe.
Olivia Benson is a Survivor. She's told herself this over and over. He didn't even do anything. It's what she has to tell herself, because she can't stand to think that that bastard got the better of her. She can't bear the realization that she had surrendered, that she'd given up. She has to shut the emotions out – ignore her mental collapse. And only then will she maybe – maybe – be able to forget.
"C'mon, I'll drive you home."
"I can walk."
"I want to see you home safe," he insists. She wants him to just please be quiet. She needs quiet. She needs to get a grip.
"Thanks, but I'll manage."
"Liv, I think we should talk-"
"Elliot." She sternly cuts him off. "Leave it alone." She doesn't feel any guit at the cold, hurt glare he shoots her. She knows he's always hated her stubborness.
It's his fist slamming down on the desk that scares the shit out of her.
"Damn it Olivia!" He's in her face, piercing blue eyes pouring into her chocolate ones. "I'm your partner! You're supposed to trust me!"
He looks pissed. Her strong façade crumbles the instant she pictures a very big, very angry guard that had been standing over her not twelve hours ago.
And Olivia has to calm her body the fuck down. It's just Elliot, it's just Elliot. Open your eyes. Look at his blue eyes. You're in the squad room, not in the basement. Oh, God, the basement the basement the basement-
His hand comes and wraps around the back of her neck. His gentle hand. His unbelievably comforting hand. His breathing slows, and his stare softens as he brushes his thumb along the back of her neck. "Liv? Breathe, Liv."
Her eyes open, and she snaps back to the present. Her chest loosens to manage some sort of attempt at releasing the breath she didn't know she has been holding. "El?" Her own voice rattles her. From where did this high-pitched, shaky, whimper-of-a-sound come?
"Yeah, it's me. Hey, calm down, okay?" Just the sound of his voice is everything. It's familiarity. It's security. It's a promise of hope. She concentrates on his deep, even breathing and tries pathetically to match her panicked ones to his.
His own voice is shaky, whether it's the proximity or the fact that she's scared him shitless, she doesn't know. Probably a bit of both.
"Let me drive you, Olivia."
She reconsiders. She runs everything through her head. Walking home in the dark in New York City does not seem like a particularly good idea after all, especially after the episode she's just pulled on Elliot. And she's just accepting a ride, after all. It's nothing she wouldn't have done after a long case, or on a rainy evening. She's not giving herself away. She may just have to work twice as hard to keep up the act, is all.
She sighs. "Ok, El, fine." For some reason, it feels like giving up. "Thanks," She adds, in an afterthought.
Elliot keeps his serious gaze on her for another ten seconds, probably checking to see if she is bluffing. He should just accept the response before she chickens out.
"Let's go." He finally says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she gets up. She doesn't like the fact that he thinks she needs help, and she doesn't know what to do with the fact that he's all to willing to be the help.
She's not quite sure what she's doing as she lets him support her out of the precinct. She's on the verge of backing out because she knows she's not in control right now. She knows that it's Elliot at the reigns for the moment. And she's afraid again because she needs that control. She can't loose it ever again. Not like in the basement, when everything was spiralling out of her hands and someone bigger and stronger was at the wheel. She holds onto the notion that as long as she's in control of herself, she's also in control of what happens to her.
So to Olivia, it's a huge step when she lets Elliot open her car door, and when she lets him help her sit down comfortably with the help of his steadying hand. She's letting him take her home. She's placing her safety in someone else's hands. She's placing her trust in someone.
A/N: Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. Constructive critisism is always helpful, but please be gentle - it's my first fic!