Pursuit Revisited

by Bensler

Chapter 2

Leaning against the door, Elliot stared at Olivia as she looked past him to some unknown point. The last two nights, he had stayed at her place, with her. He certainly hadn't planned it. It just happened. As distressed as he and the rest of SVU was over the murder, Sonya's death had really done a number on his partner. He wasn't sure if it was because she had watched Sonya die in her arms, or because she had been a colleague Olivia worked closely with, or because Sonya, in some strange way, was the essence of Serena – Olivia's mother. It was most likely a combination of the three. Cragen had ordered her to talk to Huang before leaving but she somehow managed to avoid not only the doctor, and Cragen but Elliot as well.

Recalling his frustration at her absence and how he had gone looking for her when he realized she had left the precinct without telling him, he scrubbed his hands over his face and closed his eyes against the memory.

The bar where he had found her was not unfamiliar. They had spent many an evening there after a tough case. Olivia was usually very careful about drinking too much – the alcoholic genes that ran through her never far from her thoughts. Still tonight she seemed to have had a few too many when he finally saw her with some slime ball chatting her up, touching her shoulder, her hand, pushing her hair from her face - far too intimate, for Elliot's liking. All the while she had laughed and smiled at the jerk and even touched him on his back, her hand over his.

He could forgive the excessive drinking but seeing her allow another man to not only touch her but reciprocate with her own, was almost more than he could bear. It drove him past the point of caring that he had no right to consider anyone Olivia might be with to be 'another man'; past the point of realizing that he was not the man in her life. Elliot was steaming by the time he had pushed between the two of them, ushered Olivia from the bar and to her apartment. All without one word of protest from her or an attempt to stop him - that's when he knew she was truly in trouble, and at this understanding, his anger and irritation at her dissolved as quickly as it had formed.

Instead of the harsh lecture he had already created in his mind over her irresponsible actions, he instead chose to say nothing about finding her in a bar, drinking her way to near oblivion with some stranger hanging all over her. Instead, neither of them said a word. They did not talk about the case or Sonya. Or anything. And it was fine. The silence between them was a balm of some sort – the knowledge that this other person just knew how the other felt without saying a thing. It was what they both needed. But especially Olivia. Somehow Elliot found a way to let the bar scene go and just be her partner and friend for the evening. After an hour or so of companionable silence he prodded her to get cleaned up and ready for bed.

While she showered, he scrambled the two eggs in her fridge and toasted the last piece of stale bread. When she came out, he sat guard over her while she ate. She didn't even balk at eating. Maybe she knew it was useless or maybe she was so wiped out she needed someone to tell her what to do. When he told her she needed to get some rest, she said okay and went to lie down. He followed, tucked her in and told her to call if she needed anything.

As he turned out the light, she called his name. "El?"

One hand on the doorknob, the other on the frame, he turned. "Yeah."

"Could you…I need…" She released a long sigh. "Would you mind staying? Just until I fall asleep?" she asked timidly as though she fully expected him to belittle her or laugh or say no.

She thought he was leaving her for the night to return home to his family, when in fact he had no intention of leaving her alone in her current state of mind. He had planned to sleep on the couch but if she needed him closer, he was more than willing to oblige.

Without a word, he pulled the small, linen covered chair under the window to her bedside. After he got situated, he was both shocked yet pleasantly surprised when she reached for his hand as though it were the most natural thing in the world. After exchanging quick, shy smiles, they fell asleep with their fingers entwined.

'You'll be okay…you'll be okay. HELP! Oh, no. No! Help me! Don't die, don't die, don't die!'

Awakened by her tortured moaning and desperate cries, Elliot switched on the bed lamp and quickly moved to Olivia's side.

"Liv," he called quietly as he gently shook her. "Liv, you're dreaming." He sat on the bed at her waist, leaning over her with both hands on her shoulders.

'No! Hurry! I need help! Don't die, Sonya! Sonya!'

"Olivia, honey, wake up," he whispered to her, his hands moving to frame her face. "It's a bad dream…a bad dream." Nightmares were an unavoidable part of the job no one warned you about when you were a rookie. Or told you how to handle them when they occurred.

Slowly, she awoke. Her brown eyes were huge with fright and confusion; her breathing ragged as she struggled to inhale and exhale. A sheen of perspiration covered her face; her dampened hair was plastered against her cheeks and forehead. Her blue tee shirt was darker around the collar from her sweat. At first she stared at Elliot as though she was not sure who he was or why he was there.

It didn't take her long to decide he was exactly who and what she needed. As she clung to him, she found the courage to survey her surroundings and looked around the room, her eyes flitting wildly from one corner to the other. Finally, she pulled away from Elliot and brought her hands up to her face to stare at them as she turned them over and over.

"My…my hands," she murmured, as her hands trembled and her whole body shook.

Elliot frowned with concern as he watched her closely hoping to figure out what she was talking about. "What's wrong with your hands?" He tried to take them in his but she pulled them from his light grasp. Maybe he was wrong about her being awake. She did not seem to be in the here and now.

"Blood…too much blood," she rasped as she began furiously wiping them on the sheet and comforter.

Now he understood and knew she was still in the nightmare. "Olivia, the blood is gone," Elliot explained as he tried to calm her frantic motions. He had not been there when she tried to staunch the flow of blood from Sonya's wound, but Fin had told him about it and how bad it was for her. And he had seen her bloodied hands, the nails and cuticles caked with the coppery reddish substance when she walked toward him that fateful night.

Jerking from his grasp, she pushed him away and ran to the bathroom where she turned on the hot water, filled her palms with liquid soap and began to scrub at her hands. Elliot followed her. The blue and purple striped bottoms she wore were much too long and bunched on the floor nearly hiding her bare feet. Strands of hair fell from the barrette that held most the dark brown and honey colored locks on top of her head. Unsure what to do, he simply watched her. When the soap rinsed off, she pumped more into her palm and repeated the ritual.

The third time she did this, a knot formed in Elliot's stomach as he realized the extent of damage done to Olivia's psyche. For once he wished she had talked to Huang; wished he had dragged her to see the doc, and he hated to be shrinked by a psychiatrist even worse than she did. Steam billowed from the sink as water splashed onto the counter and floor. The light scent of lavender from the soap filled the air, reached Elliot and prompted him into action.

Carefully approaching her, he slowly wrapped his arms around her and began to help her wash her hands. For the shortest second she stilled then began scrubbing again. Elliot softly spoke reassuring words to her as his hands slid over hers.

"There…see…it's gone, Liv. The soap and water washed it all away." He wondered how she could stand the water so hot as his hands stung from the excessive heat.

"The…the blood?" She stopped washing, her gaze locked on Elliot's hands as they rubbed hers, his large soapy fingers sliding through and around hers and over her hands reddened from the heat of the water and her vicious scrubbing. She marveled that his touch was firm yet so gentle.

"Yes, the blood. It's gone," he whispered, his hands caressing and massaging hers. "Your hands are clean."

"It's gone?" she asked, her voice begging for reassurance.

Reassurance, he understood that he alone could give her. "Yes. It's gone, Liv. It's all gone."

He could see her reflection in the mirror as she closed her eyes and relaxed against him. Reaching for the hand towel, he looked up to see her eyes as they opened and her gaze connected with his in the mirror. It hit him like a sledge hammer – she trusted him. Completely. She completely trusted him in every way. To be there. To help her. To save her. Though he had let her down so many times in the past, she still trusted him. This time he would not let her down.

Tenderly folding and patting the towel against her skin, he dried her hands, and reached for the bottle of lotion on by the sink. He pumped a generous portion into his palm, warmed it between his hands for a few seconds before covering hers with it, careful to work it in to soothe the now chaffed and raw skin. As he finished, he fought the urge to put kisses in her palms like he did his kids, and embrace her and hold her like he had two days ago. However, he did place a kiss on the top of her head before he guided her back to the bed.

It only took a few minutes before he heard Olivia's even breathing and knew she was asleep. Looking down at their entwined fingers he was consumed with contentment and peace – something he had not felt in a very long while. Soon his eyes closed. This time they both slept through the night.

~ ~ ~ eoeoeoeo ~ ~ ~