AN: Thanks for all of the reviews! I'm glad you like the story so far. A special note to the guest reviewer that didn't like the story. I love to get reviews, even those that are critical. And I'm sorry if you think that all of my stories are the same, with Olivia being the victim and Elliot being an idiot. I think a fair share of my stories have Olivia doing something stupid (like Deception and Reckoning) but mostly I think they both do stupid stuff all the time, and live in the land of denial. I try to be true to their characters, but I know my stories aren't for everyone. Thanks for giving it a try. Everyone please keep the reviews coming. Your comments always make me think about my writing and I always want to strive to improve!

EOEOEOEO

Olivia opened her eyes slightly, and immediately regretted it. Muted light was streaming into the room from a small opening at the bottom of her blinds, and even though it wasn't very bright, it was like someone had lodged an icepick in her brain.

She slammed her eyes closed again and let out a moan.

She felt like shit. She had broken one of her own cardinal rules, and now she was paying the price. She had only herself to blame.

No. This was Elliot's fault.

If she hadn't been so unbelievably pissed at him. If she hadn't felt the need to just drive every thought of him out of her mind…

She let out another moan. She might be upset with Elliot, but she couldn't blame him for this. She knew better than to try to mute her emotions with alcohol. She had watched her mother do it for years, and look where she ended up. She knew better.

But last night, when his words were still like a razor to her heart, she'd let the voices in her head win out, and now she was being punished for her lack of judgment.

At least she had made it home in one piece.

Christ. How had she gotten home?

She panicked for a moment, hoping that she hadn't done anything incredibly stupid. Like let some strange guy bring her home. It wasn't the kind of reckless behavior she would normally engage in, but with the mood she was in last night, anything was possible.

She did a quick assessment; she still had her clothes on. That was a good sign.

With great pain, she opened her eyes again and looked at the other side of the bed. The sheets were undisturbed; the comforter in place. It appeared that when she got home, she'd made a beeline for her bed, crawled in and passed out.

She tried to think through the sequence of events from the night before. Always a good place to start when you want to retrace your steps. She remembered getting to the party. Then she recalled talking to Fin and making it very clear that she didn't want Elliot anywhere near her. There was some drinking, some dancing, and then Elliot showed up. After that, it became a little blurrier. She remembered playing a drinking game, and losing, resulting in several downed shots. Her stomach roiled at the thought. She could almost taste the alcohol going down her throat.

Then she felt that quickening in her throat…the warning that everything was coming up. She lurched out of bed, almost tripping as her legs got tangled in the sheets. She made it to the bathroom just in time to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

EOEOEOEO

Elliot heard her feet hit the ground, and he sat up quickly. The next thing he heard was her retching in the bathroom and he winced. He sat still, unsure as to what to do. He wanted to help her because he knew exactly how she was feeling. Like shit. But he knew she probably wasn't going to react well to his being in her apartment, and would probably be even angrier at him for being witness to one of her worst moments.

So, he sat in place, grimacing as she continued to get sick.

He should have put a glass of water by her bed. And some ibuprofen.

He should have tried to wake her last night and made her take some before she went back to sleep.

There were a lot of things he should have done. Or should have done differently.

He listened, but heard only silence. Either her stomach was empty or she had passed out on the floor of the bathroom.

Now he didn't know what to do. There wasn't protocol for dealing with your hungover, sick partner who was pissed as hell at you.

He couldn't sit here any longer when he knew she was suffering in the other room. He pushed himself up off the couch and padded quietly into the kitchen. He heard the toilet flush just as he started to fill up a glass with water. He opened a few cupboards, but didn't see any meds. He was assuming that if she even had any pain reliever, it would be in the bathroom.

He moved towards her bedroom and was just about to knock lightly on the door when Olivia came stumbling out of her room and slammed right into him. "Fuck!" She let out a small yell of surprise as the cold water from the glass splashed over both of them, and Elliot took a few steps back. He saw her trying to focus, a look of confusion on her face as she tried to make sense of who was standing in front of her.

Olivia sputtered when she realized it was Elliot standing there. Her hand went to her chest, pulling her wet shirt away from her skin. "What the hell?" Then she lifted her other hand to her head and closed her eyes. Every sound made her feel queasy…she didn't want to even talk much less yell.

Elliot stood still. He could see the pain etched in her features, and he knew her headache must be killing her. "I was bringing you some water." He said quietly.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as she brushed by him. She winced at the sound of her own voice, even though her tone was still muted. She needed something to drink, some ibuprofen and more sleep. In that order. What she didn't need was Elliot in her apartment.

Elliot followed her into the kitchen and watched as she took a dish towel and pressed it against her shirt, trying to soak up some of the excess water. She made a small sound of disgust as tossed the towel in the sink. Then she pulled another glass from the cupboard and filled it with cold water. She opened a small cabinet above the sink…one he hadn't looked in…and pulled out a bottle of Motrin. He watched as she downed a couple and finished the entire glass of water.

Olivia set the glass on the counter and braced her arms against the edge of the sink, waiting to see if she was just going to throw up the meds she'd just taken. She didn't even look at Elliot, and she wasn't going to. She was way too hungover to deal with him right now. She couldn't muster up enough energy to delve into what the hell he was doing there or yell about his obvious decision to just let himself in…or any of the million other things she wanted to rant about. Maybe if she just ignored him, he would get the message and go away.

"I was worried about you."

Olivia sighed. No such luck. She held up her free hand as she walked past him. "I really don't want to hear your justification for breaking into my apartment right now." She kept walking towards her bedroom, completely dismissing him. To his credit, he didn't say anything else, and she closed her bedroom door behind her. She set down the glass of water on her nightstand, and it took all of her remaining energy to peel her t-shirt over her head and wiggle her jeans over her hips. She left them on the floor and crawled into bed, pulling the comforter over her head to block out the light.

She closed her eyes, but her head was throbbing. Her stomach was still unsettled, and she rolled over on her side, placing her hand against her abdomen.

She just needed to sleep.

Elliot stood in the kitchen as Olivia disappeared into her bedroom. He hadn't said anything he had wanted to say, but then again, she had made it pretty clear she wasn't in the mood for discussion. He understood. She had just spent the last twenty minutes hunched over a toilet bowl.

But now he didn't know what to do. She was obviously annoyed that he was there, but she hadn't exactly told him to leave. He scrubbed his hands over his face. He hadn't slept since he had brought her back to her apartment, so he hadn't slept all night. He had been too busy listening for any sign of life from her.

He headed back to the couch and stretched out, letting out a heavy sigh as he closed his eyes.

He just needed to sleep.

EOEOEOEO

Olivia opened her eyes slightly, testing the waters. Her headache was marginally better, and while her stomach was feeling a little unsettled, it was nothing like it had been when she woke up this morning. She opened her eyes completely and shifted, looking at the clock on the nightstand. It was just a little before noon, so she'd been out for another six hours.

She ran her tongue against her teeth and grimaced. She was incredibly thirsty and she needed to brush her teeth. She propped herself up and grabbed the glass of water, downing it all. She set the glass down on pushed herself up so she was sitting on the bed, and then sat for a moment, letting her body and brain adjust. Hangovers sucked and she chastised herself again for letting this happen.

After a few moments, Olivia swung her legs out of bed and placed her feet on the floor. She saw her jeans on the floor and she leaned over to scoop them up, fishing for her phone in her pocket. She hoped to God Cragen hadn't called. She was off this weekend, but that never stopped him for calling her in if something happened. Of course, he would have called Elliot and Elliot would have gotten a hold of her.

Elliot.

No. She was going to have an Elliot free day today. She wasn't going to think about him. She wasn't going to talk to him. She was going to keep the commitment she'd made to herself last night. And that was to put any romantic notions she had about him in the past. Move on. She had obviously been delusional in interpreting what she thought were signs that maybe he felt the same way.

If he had any interest in her, he would have done something to change the nature of their relationship once the ink on his divorce papers was dry. She was an idiot to have kept hanging on to the notion that they could be more.

She opened her phone and saw 20 missed calls and 10 text messages. She rolled her eyes, knowing before she even opened them that they were probably all from Elliot. She closed her phone and threw it on the bed. She wasn't even going to look.

She pushed herself up off the bed and walked slowly into the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face and pulled out her toothbrush. As she brushed her teeth, she looked back at her phone as it lay on the bed.

No. She wasn't going to read his texts or listen to the voicemails. She didn't care what they said.

An image of his face at the party last night popped into her head.

No. This was an Elliot free day. She spit into the sink, wiped her face and hands on the towel, and looked at herself in the mirror. God, she looked like shit. She had shed her clothes, so she was just wearing her bra and underwear, and she noticed a bruise on her upper arm. She fingered it, wondering how she had gotten it. Probably running into something.

She should take a shower, but it seemed like a lot of effort. Especially since she was probably just going to crawl back in bed. Her phone was sitting there as she walked back into the bedroom, and she grabbed it angrily as she sat back on the bed.

OK. I'm just going to read through these and listen to the voicemails and then delete them. Just in case it was work-related.

Which was absolute bullshit and she knew it. They wouldn't be work-related.

She thumbed open her text messages and saw that one was from Fin.

Call me when you wake up tomorrow. Just want to see how u doing.

She smiled. Fin was a good friend. She hit reply. I feel like shit but I deserve it. Thanks for getting me home.

Olivia opened the string from Elliot next and braced herself. They started out simply enough, and she could see from the time stamp that they were roughly ten minutes apart.

Just want to make sure you got home safely. Text me.

Text me back. Just need to know you're OK.

Come on. Just want to make sure you're OK.

Liv. I know you're mad but I'm worried. Just tell me you're home.

The nature of the messages changed then, and she could tell he was getting pissed that she wasn't answering.

Just tell me to fuck off or whatever. Just something please.

Going out of my mind here.

Olivia. Answer me. Just tell me you're home.

As if using her full name would let her know that he was SERIOUS now.

OLIVIA!

That was the last message. She wondered if that was when he had resorted to calling. As she thumbed open her phone app, she saw she had 15 missed calls and only 5 voicemails.

"Liv. I know you're pissed but I can't reach you and I just want to make sure you got home OK. You don't need to call me back. Just text me back and tell me you're home."

"Liv, it's me again. I haven't heard back from you. I know you're mad, but I'm worried. You were drunk at Fin's and I just need to know you made it home."

"Olivia. Please don't do this. If I don't hear back from you in the next five minutes, I'm going to go over to your apartment."

The next voicemail was scarcely two minutes later. So much for waiting for five minutes.

"OK, I'm coming over. And you can't be mad at me for showing up because you're the one not answering."

She could hear the concern in his voice, and for a moment, she felt bad about making him worry.

"You are really pissing me off. I'm letting myself in your apartment and you'd better be there. I mean, I hope you're there."

She could hear the anger in his voice, probably borne of frustration. But she also heard the ultimatum. You'd better be there.

The sympathy she'd felt for making him worry turned into anger. She didn't answer to him. She could do whatever the hell she wanted. She didn't need a babysitter. He was overreacting and pulling this overprotective bullshit and it pissed her off. She didn't belong to him and she wasn't his responsibility.

When she had seen him standing in her apartment this morning, she hadn't been able to fully process why he was there. He had obviously let himself into her apartment. Had he sat there until she made it home? Presumptuous son-of-a-bitch.

Olivia lay back down on the bed and let out a small groan. So far, her Elliot free day wasn't going very well. She pulled the phone back in front of her face, and deleted the messages and the voicemails.

That made her feel marginally better. She sat back up. She needed some food and some more water. She pulled on her robe on over her bra and underwear, and tied the sash. She opened her door and padded out into the living room. As she rounded the corner of the couch, she let out a small yell as she jumped back.

Goddamn Elliot was stretched out, sleeping on her couch.

When he heard her yell, he startled awake and sat up quickly. "Liv."

So much for her Elliot free day.