The moment his head crashes through the rear window of the car, her heart slams against the inside of her ribcage. She hears his groan of shock and pain, sees him slide down the side of the car, out of sight, and she can't get to him fast enough.
"Elliot!"
She's racing across the street, her eyes blind to the cars screeching to a halt around her. Oh God, oh God, oh God.
"Officer down, call a bus!" Her voice is hoarse as she races towards the car. She can't see him. Can't see him, got to get to him. The rear window of the car is completely shattered- his head shattered that window.
The instant she sees him, her body is frozen for a moment. He's completely still against the side of the car, head hanging limply against his chest. Olivia takes his chin gently in her palm, raising it just enough to get a glimpse of his face, and his head lolls towards her. His eyes are closed, lips parted slightly, the color draining slowly from his skin. Oh, God. Oh, God, El.
"Elliot." He doesn't even flinch as she wraps her arm around the back of his head and holds him against her chest. "Elliot, you're okay. You're okay." Her heart hammers against her chest and vision blurs as she holds him tightly against her. He's the one that went headfirst through the window, but it's her head that won't stop spinning. He's gonna be okay. He's gonna be okay. It can't be that bad.
Finally, she gains the courage to check the damage on the back of his head. He's bleeding. Jesus… there's blood streaming down the back of his neck and staining the collar of his dress shirt and the glimmer of glass shines through the short hairs on the back of his head. He's still not moving.
Her chin falls against the top of his head. She's trying desperately not to look at the dent on the door of the car and the blood- his blood- that mixes with the glass mere inches from her face as she whispers to him.
"A bus is on its way. You're okay."
She can't stop saying it. As air refuses to move properly through her lungs, she just keeps whispering that he's okay, over and over, like if she says it enough, he'll open his eye and tell her, "yes, I'm okay."
/
Elliot's eyelids don't even flutter from the time Olivia collapses to her knees next to him to the moment she's allowed in his room. The hollows around his eyes are dark and bruised. His mouth is still hanging slightly ajar as he rests, still unmoving.
Olivia drags a chair closer and sits. Her hand twitches, wishing to reach out to him, but she remains still, examining his face for even the most fleeting movement. He's still pale... so damn pale and if the doctor didn't tell her otherwise, she'd think the life was draining right out of him. That thought alone brings bile up her throat. Olivia chokes it back, finally surrendering to her need to touch. Her hand runs down his strong forearm, warm and alive underneath her. Strong, steady breathes rock his chest up and down lightly, reminding her that yes, he's alive, he's going to be okay.
He's going to be okay.
Olivia's phone buzzes in her pocket an undeterminable amount of time later. She's been dozing off next to the bed for a while now, alternating between watching Elliot's relaxed face and a light half sleep. The phone brings her fully awake and she answers it softly, "Hello?"
"Olivia." It's the captain, his voice coming through the phone in a worried rasp. "How's it going?"
Olivia's eyes sweep over her partner's still sleeping form, from his bruised, closed eyes, over the nasal cannula that tucks over both ears and across his cheeks, and finally his chapped lips. "Okay. He hasn't woken up yet."
She hears the captain sigh over the phone. "I'll try to make it over there in a little bit."
When Olivia hangs up, Elliot's eyes are fluttering slowly. Her breath catches in her chest as they crack open.
"'S goin' on?" he asks in a slurred rasp.
The breath expels from her chest as relief slowly starts to trickle in. He's okay. Thank God, he's awake. "Welcome back, El."
"What's going on?" His voice is a little bit stronger this time, but his eyes are hazed over and he doesn't seem to be focusing in on her. Olivia swallows back the fear that's leaping into her throat. He's okay. There's nothing to worry about, he's awake and talking and moving.
"You're in the hospital. You're okay," she says. He's still not looking at her. Instead, his eyes flicker around the room, taking in everything and nothing at once, and for the first time in a long time, she can sense his fear.
"I'm not okay. Where are you?"
Ice shoots up her spine. What? "What do you mean? I'm standing right in front of you."
"I can't see you, I can't see anything." He's shaking his head, wide eyes flickering frantically around the room. The fear that's been building inside her erupts and it takes everything she has to blink away the tears that prickle at her eyelids. Oh, God. He can't see. He can't see. "It's all a blur. I can't see anything. Liv…?" His hand twitches in his lap, like he's about to reach out for her, but he doesn't. Olivia doesn't exercise the same control- she takes his hand and squeezes it tight. The fear in his tone and his eyes and the lost look that now covers his face is fuel for more tears. Olivia purses her lips, wishing, not for the first time, that it was her head that went through that window instead of his.
"Right here, El," she says, drawing his hand to her chest. I'm right here.
/
Elliot is gripping Olivia's hand tightly. She guides him slowly over the threshold into her apartment building, shoves her keys into her pocket and sets her free hand on his back as they walk. "We're almost to the elevator," she says gently. "Watch this step."
It's been two days since he woke up at the hospital, and the only time Olivia has left Elliot's side was to go home at the end of visiting hours to shower and get some sleep. He's told her not once, but several times to get out of the hospital, go to work, do anything besides sit in the stuffy room with him, but at the same time, she's noticed the frustration and even the little bit of fear in his eyes. It's absolutely breaking her heart to see him like this. So she stays with him for as long as she can- except a moment when he's dozing off in his bed, when she steps out into the hallway and takes out her phone. She selects one of the only numbers she kept after her stint undercover with the FBI and tells them everything they want to know about the man that caused her partner's frustration and fear.
Another MRI revealed that the swelling in his optic nerve has gone down, but according to him, his vision still hasn't gotten any better- everything is still a blurred mess of lights and shadows. So when his doctor came in and told them that he could be released, it wasn't a question of if he needed someone to take care of him, it was a question of who it would be. Since he signed the divorce papers sitting in his glove box and was already in the process of moving out of the house in Queens, Olivia was more than willing to volunteer for the job. So here she is, guiding him by the small of his back into her elevator and stabbing the button for her floor.
"Doing okay?" she asks gently, studying his form as he leans against the wall of the elevator.
"Dizzy," he mumbles, gripping the railings against the wall with white knuckles. His face is pale and he looks like he's going to be sick. Must be the concussion.
"Alright. Just hold on, we're almost to my apartment," Olivia says.
The elevator doors slide open and she grabs his hand with one of hers, slowly guiding him into the hallway. When he nearly misses a step, Olivia places her free hand on his back once again to steady him. His discomfort and frustration is clearly written on his face, but she doesn't know what to say other than, "We're almost there, El."
Elliot grunts a reply, focusing on keeping his steps steady, still squeezing her hand tight. She had to admit, it feels good to have her hand wrapped in his.
Inside her living room, Olivia immediately guides him over to the couch and sits him down. She returns a moment later with a glass of water, but stops short in front of the couch, staring at his face for a long moment. The hollows of his eyes are still dark and bruised, which is only accentuated thanks to the paleness of his skin. He hasn't shaven in several days and it's showing on his dark, stubbled cheeks. Olivia takes his wrist in hers, raises it and places the glass in his hand. "Here. How's your head? I can get your meds…"
"It's okay," Elliot says, taking a sip of water. His eyes slide shut. "I'm fine."
Olivia checks her watch. It's nearing six o'clock already and the last thing he ate was lunch in the hospital… and it hadn't even really been eating, more like blindly pushing his food around, suspicious of what waited for him.
"Hungry?" she asks. "I'll order in."
He hesitates, gaze flickering up to her for a moment. The moment she's sure he's going to say no, he's fine, she whips out her phone and punches the delivery place she has on speed dial. "You need to eat something. I'll get us a pepper and onion, sound good?"
Elliot's lips turn upward and he gives a nod. "Yeah, alright."
After Olivia orders, she turns on the television and they sit in relative silence. Even though Olivia hates football with a passion, she turns the channel to the Jets game, tells him the score and even explains a few plays that the announcers miss. And the longer she talks, the more relaxed he becomes next to her. Olivia can almost feel his body slacken- it's been a while since she's seen him this relaxed and it's comforting in a way. His emotions have been out of whack since the accident- partially from the concussion, partially from the challenges of his current condition- and it's good to see him finally relax. She finds herself droning on, even repeating things already stated by the announcers, just because it seems like the sound of her voice is soothing him.
They get their pizza halfway through the third quarter of the game. Not long after Olivia flips the box closed, he's snoozing next to her. When she glances at him, his head has fallen back against the back cushions of the couch, his eyes are closed and his mouth hangs open slightly. A chuckle bubbles up her chest as warmth fills her. Over the past year or so, she couldn't help but notice how his chest has broadened, biceps bulked and face thinned even further. Not that he ever had anything pudgy on his body to begin with. It's been a coping mechanism she knows, for not only the divorce but the cases as well. She's stumbled upon him pounding the heavy bag or straining to lift absurd amounts of wait on the bench. No matter how many times she requests that he takes it easy, he never does.
It'll be a while before he can get a good workout in again, she knows. It'll irritate the living hell out of him. Past forty, he's got just as much energy as a man half his age.
Elliot lets out a soft snore, drawing her from her reverie. He should get some sleep in a real bed, not her couch. Olivia sets her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "El." she whispers. "Hey. Wake up."
"Lemme 'lone," he grumbles. "'M good…"
Olivia laughs. He sounds like a teenager being woken up by his mother for school. "You're exhausted. C'mon."
She takes his arm, but his eyes snap open. "What're ya doin'?"
"Taking you to bed. You need some proper rest, El," she says. "C'mon, get up."
"'M fine out here. Not gonna kick you out…"
"Elliot. You're sleeping in a real bed tonight. Come on." She doesn't give him a choice- she hasn't been giving him many choices this evening but she just wants him to get better and this is the only way she knows how. After nights in the hospital, she's not leaving him to toss and turn on her uncomfortable couch.
Olivia pulls back the blanket and presses on his shoulders until he sits on the mattress. "Lay down. Get some sleep."
"Olivia," he says softly just as she's about to move away from him. For the second time tonight, she thinks he'll protest, and for the second time tonight, he proves her wrong. "Stay."
The question shocks her to her core and the answer she wants to give is immediately on her tongue. Yes. He must really be out of it, she thinks, because there's no way he'd ask her this if there wasn't something wrong in his head.
"I mean… it's your bed…"
"El." She squeezes his shoulders gently. "Lay down."
He does so. Olivia drops the blanket over him, rounds the bed and lowers herself onto the mattress, feeling Elliot's eyes bore holes in her back the entire time. "Close your eyes," she says as she reaches for the switch of the lamp. As soon as his irises fade behind eyelids, she turns the switch, enveloping the room in complete darkness.
It's been a long time since Elliot's had a warm body to sleep next to. He almost had Kathy again, almost, but even after they agreed he'd go home to her, it just never seemed to work out. Their divorce had gone through and that had been the end of it. He's missed the comfort of a warm body next to him. Though he'll claim that his request is born of nothing more than the damage in his head, it's not true. He really just wants that comfort again. So when Olivia slides into the bed next to him and whispers a command to get some rest, he lets his eyes close and sleep takes over.
/
"Gotta get away. Gotta get away."
Elliot's arm is wrapped tightly around his suspect's. He's walking, but unseeing; the blobs of indistinguishable objects have faded to complete blackness.
"You're not going anywhere."
"Elliot!"
"Gotta get away."
He's falling backwards. Glass shatters and pain explodes through the back of his head.
"I'm sorry, Elliot. I can't have a blind detective." There's a pen in his grip and a hand guiding him to a sheet of paper on the surface of a desk. "Sign here."
"I can't."
"You have to."
He tries to pull his arm away, but he's frozen in place. And then it's moving, scrawling the shape of his name onto nothing.
"Daddy."
"Maur," he rasps, rubbing his eyes and squinting. The world around him remains completely black.
"You'll walk me down the aisle, won't you?"
His fingers slide over the cool metal of a thin band, but an image of the ring that now sits on his daughter's finger eludes him. Something unseen pulls his legs out from underneath him and he's crashing backwards through glass again.
Elliot's eyes snap open. He groans and sits up, rubbing his temples as he looks around. His vision isn't completely black anymore... he'd be relieved, but he still can't make out the blurs that surround him.
"El?" Olivia's groggy voice asks from next to him. "Hey, you okay?"
"I'm fine," he mumbles.
"You sure? Does it hurt…?"
"No." Lie. His head is pounding. The wound on the back of his head stings.
"Then what's wrong?" She's sitting up next to him. Her hand rests on his back for a moment, and then she's rubbing it gently.
"Just a dream."
Elliot slides back down onto the mattress, taking a heavy breath. Just a dream. He's going to see again. He's going back to work. Everything will be okay.
"Okay," Olivia whispers. He's glad she doesn't push it; he doesn't have the energy to talk about it now. He wants to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but his nightmare has left him unable to close his eyes. Olivia lays back down next to him. He can feel her gaze on him, but he says nothing. His eyes remain locked to the ceiling. "It's hard to go back to sleep with your eyes open."
"Thanks for the tip," he mumbles. Before he knows what he's doing, he's on his side facing her. In the darkness and with his impaired vision, he can't even see her. "Where are you?" he murmurs, reaching out into the darkness.
Her hand slips around his wrist and she guides him to her warm chest. "Right here. Right next to you."
Elliot swallows, his hand on her chest suddenly not enough. He scoots closer to her, his hand making its way down her body and around her waist. When he pulls her close, she doesn't protest. Instead, her arm wraps around him, as well. He lets out the breath he's been holding.
His head is pulsing, but he's not willing to let her go. She's holding him close and she's warm, and her warmth is filling his chest, sending waves of tranquility over him. His head isn't pounding so much anymore- the nightmare is slowly fading into the back of his mind, replaced with the comforting sound of her even breaths.
Maybe it's the concussion. Maybe it's the nightmare. Maybe it's the broken desire inside of him to be close to a soft, feminine body again, or the emotions for Olivia he's been burying deep within him for longer than he can even admit. Whatever it is, for whatever reason, he finds his forehead sliding against hers. He wishes he could see her. There's a burning, unbearable desire within him to blink away the blindness and look deep within her beautiful brown eyes, so he could know whether or not she's feeling the same way as he is.
Then again, without this blind courage, he wouldn't be leaning forward ever so slowly. He wouldn't be closing the distance between their lips or feeling her warm breath against him. He stops- freezes in place, mere centimeters from her mouth, waiting, wanting, but holding back, giving her a chance to pull away, to roll over, to do or say anything to let him know that she doesn't want this like he does. But that doesn't come. Instead, she is the one that closes the remaining distance between them.
Her lips are so warm and soft and he never wants to extract himself from them.
Olivia's eyes are wide open. She's staring at his eyelids; she has to, because she's afraid that if she closes them, he'll disappear on her.
He's kissing her. His lips are chapped, but warm and they send Olivia's body into overdrive. Her whole body is heating up but her eyes are moist, like tears are about to stream down her cheeks- tears of relief to finally fulfill this need she's had for years, or tears of happiness for finally experiencing one of the deepest desires she's had, or maybe both. She moves her body closer to his as her lips tingle like they never have before. Her partner. She's kissing her partner and she can't stop. She doesn't want to stop.
Elliot's teeth nip lightly at her bottom lip and she can't help the moan that falls from her lips. God, he's trying to kill her. Her fists close around the material of his shirt tightly as she nips back at him.
His hands close around the bottom of her shirt. He's pulling it up her body, agonizingly slow, giving her time to stop him if she wants to, but she doesn't want to. She needs to get the material over her head, and she needs even more to tear the shirt from his chest, as well. Her patience is wearing very thin; if he doesn't get that shirt over her head soon, she's going to finish the job for him.
Finally, he drops the piece of fabric next to him. His hands reach for her, but before the tips of his fingers can touch her skin, she's pulling at the bottom of his shirt, forcing him to raise his arms so she can finish the job.
And finally, after all the times she's seen his bare skin, after all the times she's wanted to reach out and touch his hard, rippling muscles, she finally has permission to do so. She starts at his broad shoulders, pulling them closer so she can fuse her lips with his once more, then slides them inward to his defined collarbone (is every muscle in his body so defined?), down to his abs.
Just as she's about to bring them back upward, his lips fall from hers and he whispers the word she's been dreading to hear. "Stop," he murmurs, drawing his body away from hers. His cheeks are tinted red, eyes half-lidded, desire still burning in his irises as his fist grip the pillow next to her head. "I… I can't."
Olivia's heart falls and her cheeks burn. She should have known. He's still so recently separated from the woman he's been married to for over twenty years. How could she expect him to be ready for this? It's too early, way to early. Not to mention, they're partners… she should have known.
"Sorry," she whispers. Her arm brushes against his abdomen as she reaches behind him for her shirt, and he grabs it, stilling her. His calloused fingers slide up her bare arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps along her skin.
"It's not what you think," Elliot breathes, letting his forehead fall back against hers. His heart is ramming against his ribcage and his breath is coming out in short puffs against her skin. God, she wants nothing more than to close that small distance, to feel his warm, chapped lips against hers again. "I- still can't see you, Olivia. When I make love to you…" His hand smoothes over her bare shoulder, then down her back, drawing her closer once again. "When I make love to you, I need to see you. Every inch of you."
A shiver runs down her spine. God, she wants him. For the first time, she's ignoring the voice in her head telling her that they're only partners, they can't do this. She needs to feel his skin scrape across hers, his weight rest over her body, his straining erection press deep inside her.
Until he's ready, until he can open his eyes and see her, she'll push aside those rational thoughts.
A/N: Thanks for reading! I may keep this as a one-shot or add another chapter, let me know in a review if you'd like more. Until then-
Have a great morning/afternoon/evening!
-Stabson