Trying to keep up with a story is hard, especially when I have all of these story ideas whirring around in my head. So Although I do have a story I need to keep going with, here's a one shot that wouldn't leave me alone till I had it on paper (or computer).

Enjoy.

Almost Gone

"Benson.. Uh.. Olivia Benson."

He can hear his blood rushing in his ears, his forehead hot with perspiration. He rubs his palms against his worn jeans, and he thinks about how she'd complimented them once. It wasn't even a compliment really, more like an observation. "Are those jeans? Nice."

The desk nurse taps her nicely manicured fingers against the computer, then looks at him, "Fourth floor, room 408. Visiting hours end at 9 PM unless you plan to stay the night, but there's no coming and going." Her voice is monotone but he barely notices.

"I'm staying."

She looks back at the computer, "Name?"

"Elliot Stabler."

She taps and hums an off-pitch tune, and he thinks about how he'd never wanted to punch a woman more. "...Next of Kin.." She mumbles, then pops her gum. He snaps then, his palm coming down harshly against the counter.

"I'm going, Okay? If you need any more information you can you can check in with NYPD, yea?" He bites, flashing his badge before heading down the nearly empty hall of Mercy General. He thinks he hears the nurse mumble something under her breath, but he's too focused on seeing Olivia that he didn't hear what she said.

The elevator ride felt excruciatingly slow. The only indication that the elevator car was moving was the high pitched dings as it passes each floor.

He's a jackass for thinking he can just waltz back in. For assuming that she wants him back in her life. But right now, he doesn't care.

The elevator dings one last time and he pushes through before the doors are even halfway open.

404, 405, 406, 407.

408.

He doesn't know what to tell her if she's awake. He hopes to God she isn't, so it'll give him the time he needs to think about everything that he wants to get out before she kicks him on his ass outside the hospital.

He knocks lightly, and when he doesn't hear a reply, opens the door slowly. The sound of the heart monitor and the drip makes him nervous, and he has half a heart to bolt out of here. Hospitals always did make him nervous.

Instead he steps in and closes the door, the only light in the room is from the cracked door of the bathroom, and he's glad that it's there. It highlights her features, her dark skin, her long brunette hair.

She grew it out.

He'd told her once that he loves long hair, that it's sexy on women, and at the time, he had a feeling she knew he wasn't talking about Kathy. Or her trimmed, blonde Bob.

As he steps closer to his former partner, they become more clear. The bruises, the stitches in her forehead. The darkens patches of skin that cover her chest. The hospital gown, clearly too big for her, had ridden down and off her shoulder, exposing more flesh than he knew she intended to show. She'd slap him for looking if she was awake. But she's not and he allows himself to look for a few seconds longer.

Beside the fact that there are tiny cuts peppering her chest, probably from glass, she is flawless. Her collarbone is pronounced, the dip at the base of her throats slightly bobbing with each breath she takes. He can see the top of her breast where the gown has ridden down and he swallows. That's not for his eyes. Not yet at least.

And then he remembers why he came here.

He pulls up a chair and sits next to her, his hand coming to rest on her leg, just above her knee.

He prepares for a full night's wait, because he'd be asking for death if he tried to wake her up now.

He thinks about how he needs to thank Don for calling him.

"You don't deserve to hear this, Elliot, but she needs you right now. She'd go to hell and back before she said it but we can all see it."

"What happened?" He swallows thickly, his fingers gripping the phone tight enough to break it.

"She's okay, was roughed up by a perp and pushed against the one-way mirror in interrogation. It shattered.. Sounds worse than it is." The way Cragen speaks about it makes Elliot's blood boil. But he keeps calm.

"How did he even get to her? If he was a perp he should have been cuffed."

"The chain broke on one of his cuffs and he lunged at her."

The interaction makes him shiver and he focuses back on the woman in front of him. He was too lost in thought to feel her leg tense up, or see her eyes bore into him.

"Olivia.."

"What are you doing here?" Her voice is raspy with sleep and her eyes are drooping slightly. She's devastatingly beautiful.

"Before you get mad or say anything, I just.. I'm sorry, Liv." He has tears in his eyes and it was evident in his voice, and he kicks himself for being this emotional.

He looks into her brown eyes and he realizes that he can't tell what she's thinking anymore. Her face is emotionless, and her eyes are tired.

He waits for her to respond.

She takes a deep breath, and runs her fingers through her hair. "El.. I'm too exhausted to argue with you so for right now..."

He shakes his head and tightens his grip on her leg, only releasing when she flinches. "Did I hurt you?"

She bites her lip and sits up a bit, "Jackass thought it'd be smart to throw me through a one way mirror." She leans back once she's adjusted and lets out a pained breath. So, which one of my co-workers am I going to have to kill for telling you I'm here?" She has humor in her voice, and he relaxes a bit.

"Boss actually. He was worried."

She nods and eyes him. He feels the scrutiny of her gaze but in this moment, he doesn't mind it. He'd rather her be killing him with her eyes then wishing he'd get to look into them one more time at her funeral.

It's quiet, and he knows that she isn't going to ask the question that's been hanging in the air since she woke up.

Why did you leave?

"Olivia-"

"Just save it, El," She whispers, her eyes slipping closed from the sheer force of tension in the room. "I know why you left, I would have done the same."

He's shocked at her response, shocked that she isn't as angry as he expected, and shocked at the exhaustion in her voice. She's worn to the bone. She has been for years, but now it's taking on in her physical appearance. He can hear it in her voice, see it under her eyes, in her eyes.

He takes the dismissal of his apology as a sign to change the subject, so he does. For now at least. He knows that deep down she's hurt and he can't blame her. All he can do now is work to make it up to her. "So, how are you feeling? Don says it sounds worse than it really is, but-"

She quirks an eyebrow as he catches himself. "What, Stabler? Don't I just look breathtaking?" She's joking, but she can't be any more correct. No matter what, she's the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on. But he doesn't tell her that.

"Actually, you look like shit but I've grown used to it." He smirks, then flinches when her nails dig into the hand resting on her leg. For a moment, he's stunned, picturing her nails doing this exact thing but to his back, then he shakes his head and yanks his hand away from her, "Fuck, Liv. Do you sharpen those things?"

She's laughing, then wincing, "Okay enough, laughing hurts."

He scoots closer to the bed, then pulls at the cotton sheet, "Can I see?" It's not appropriate for him to ask, but he wants to make sure that it's as his former captain said, and just a few cuts and bruises.

Her breath hitches, but she lets him pull the blanket down, exposing her bare legs.

He's confused when he sees very little marks on her golden skin, just a few on her knees. It's when he sees the bottom of her gown begin to rise that he swallows, his eyes connecting with hers.

This isn't her. It's not, and he wants to slap her and tell the old Olivia to come back, but at the same time, he want's to kiss this one. She's open and vulnerable, and not doing a damn thing to stop it.

He bites the inside of his cheek when he sees her boy shorts come into view, but she doesn't stop there. No, she brings the gown to rest right under her breasts. It takes a moment for it to sink in, but when he see's it, he chokes on any words he might have spoken.

There's a large gash on the side of her rib, stitched up most likely, and covered with gauze. There's a large bruise on her hip bone, and it wraps around her body and disappears underneath her.

"It doesn't really hurt that much, I just feel sore." Her voice is quiet, calm.

He want's to kill the sonofabitch who did this to her, but right now, he does everything to hide the anger. She doesn't need another angry, violent man.

He feels a warm hand on the back of his neck, and he looks up to see her staring at him. "El, he's on his way to rikers, don't worry. Please. I'm fine."

In that moment, he's only sure of one thing. As her warm hand lay on his neck, he want's to lean up and kiss her. Touch his lips to hers and burn the memory into his brain forever, because if she wasn't so hurt, she'd kick his ass for doing it. But the need is so strong, so powerful, that he thinks that if he doesn't do it right now, he'd die.

He stands up and leans forward, one hand resting beside her head, and he's hovering over her. "Olivia, I know that you're angry and hurt about my leaving, and don't say you're not, because I don't believe you, but I know for a fact that I wouldn't have made it this far without you. With me or not, you're the only thing that's gotten me through the past few months. You're everyth-"

"Elliot.." She whispers, her nails scraping against the hair on the back of his neck. He can't tell if she's upset or not, but he figures she's gotten the jist of it, and leans down.

He doesn't give her any time to wrap her head around what's going on, and he presses his lips to hers.

He doesn't expect a good reaction, but is surprised when her arm wraps completely around his neck and pulls him closer. Even more shocked when she returns the kiss with a type of fervor that he can only describe as need.

The need for what, he doesn't know, but either way, he's determined to give it to her. Whatever she wants. He complies when she opens her mouth to him, and is eager when their tongues tangle for the first time. It's like nothing he's ever felt before, and he never wants it to end.

But the burning in his lungs tell him otherwise, and he's forced to pull away, the desperate need for air overwhelming him. He smells her sweet scent when he takes a deep breath, and it's intoxicating. She's intoxicating.

Her fingers are stroking his cheeks and their faces are inches apart. "Don't ever fucking leave like that again," She whispers, her voice hoarse.

He shakes his head and presses his lips to hers once more. Never. He never wants to be without her again, and he feels like an ass for waiting all this time to finally come to terms with it, let alone do something about it.

"Olivia, you're everything to me," He husks into their shared air. His palm comes to rest on her bare thigh, then slides up and over her boy shorts, stopping at the bruise on her hip bone. "I don't think I could take another second without you."

They kiss one more time, and make silent promises to each other. Nothing is worth losing the bond that they've created 13 years ago.

He pulls back slightly to look at her, a small smile is on her lips and he wants it to stay there forever. Maybe now's a good time to tell her how beautiful she really is, despite the few cuts and bruises that litter her otherwise flawless, tanned skin.

But he doesn't. Not yet.

"When are they releasing you?" He asks, stroking the purple and blue skin at her waist as if he can heal it with just his touch, and the love that he has for her.

"Tomorrow morning. Well.. this morning, I should say. But they won't if I'm exhausted, so I should probably get back to sleep." She yawned as she spoke and he chuckled. He glanced at the wall clock and noted that it was well past midnight.

"I'll go then. Do you have someone to take you home in the morning?" He asks shyly, a small smile on his face.

She flashes a flirty grin and shrugs, "I do now."

He strokes her cheek and presses a slow, languid kiss to her plump lips. One for the road.

She moans when their tongues meet for the second time, tangling her fingers into the front of his shirt, keeping him in place.

The beeping of the heart monitor increases, and he smiles, pulling back, "I should go before they think you had a heart attack and keep you here longer. I'll be back in the morning with some fresh clothes. Okay?"

She leans back onto the bed and pulls the blanket back over her flushed body. "Okay."

And with that, and one final peck on the lips, he's out the door and walking down the empty halls of the all-too-familiar hospital.

End.

….Unless you want a second part. ;)