It Had to Be Over

Chapter 3 - Reaction

The knock at the door was soft, yet insistent. Olivia turned slightly in her bed to look at the clock. 8:17 p.m. She had been asleep for almost two and a half hours. She was so stiff and sore it took several minutes just to sit up and put her legs over the side of the bed. Who would have thought that being hit with the air bag could cause so much discomfort and pain. Thank goodness Casey was here with the pain medication.

"I'm coming . . . just give me a sec. " she hollered, as she began her slow, torturous trek to the door. Usually, she would never open it without first checking to see who was there, but she knew it had to be Casey, so she just unlocked the door and opened it. To her complete shock it was not her friend bearing prescriptions. Nope. She found herself staring into the very blue eyes of one Elliot Stabler.

"Wh-wh-what are you doing here?" she stammered, her eyes big as saucers. His eyes swept over her, taking in her wrinkled gray sweats, black tank top and bare feet. Her hair stuck up and out at every angle, probably because she had gone to bed with it wet. He hoped he had not woken her. He noticed the small, red abrasions on her left cheek and wanted to reach out and stroke them with his fingers.

"I...need to...talk to you, Liv." he said softly, standing at her door, dressed in tight, dark jeans, a red Henley, under his black leather jacket. He looked freshly showered, his hair still damp. For some reason, he had not shaved. Apparently, he had been home. Apparently, he did not stay by his wife's side at the hospital all day and night.

"Y-y-you shouldn't be here. Y-you can't be here " Her voice sounded strangled to her. She couldn't look at him. It was taking everything in her to keep breathing, his nearness caused a reaction she did not want to name. There was no way she could just keep looking at him.

"Why? Why shouldn't I be here?" he asked, his eyes narrowing but locked on her. She would not look at him and he wondered why. Was she upset, angry, scared? What? Was it something he had done or said?

Olivia looked everywhere but at him, shaking her head. She opened her mouth but nothing came out so she closed it and then tried again to speak but failed. Her heart was beating so hard, blood was roaring in her head and she was so dizzy she knew it could overtake her at any moment. She held onto the door just to keep from falling. She could not let him know she had any kind of reaction to his mere presence, especially a reaction like this.

"I had to see you. You gonna let me in? Or we just gonna keep standing here?" he asked, his lips curling in a partial smile, his eyes never leaving her. She looked so small, so tired, so pale. Maybe it was that small, black tank top that showed too much skin, that made her look more pale than she was but she did not look well.

"Is everything all right with Kathy? The baby?" she asked. That was it. That had to be why he was here. Something had happened. Something bad. And it was all her fault. Her eyes shifted wildly, avoiding his. She could not bring herself to look at him even though she knew he had never quit looking at her.

"They're fine." He paused before saying her name. "Liv?", he questioned as he motioned toward her living room. She was aware he wanted to come in...what could she say to keep him from coming in, she thought. No word came to her. Nothing. Not even a smart aleck response.

Finally, she stepped aside, allowing him to enter, still holding onto the door for dear life. After a minute or so, she finally closed it, stumbling a bit, then leaning against it for security.

When she fell against the door, Elliot suddenly realized she was probably hurting pretty badly from the accident by now and turned to her asking, "Do you need me to help you to the couch to sit down."

"No. No. I'm fine. It will just take me a minute." There was no way she was letting him put his hands on her. Not a chance.

He still came toward her to offer help, but she threw her hands up, palms outward to fend him off and he could see innumerable, superficial cuts on her extended palms. He knew they were from the accident but he did not know exactly how she got them and he wanted to take her hands, cover the cuts in kisses and tell her he was sorry.

Her voice brought him back to the present as he heard her say, "I don't need you, Elliot. I don't need your help."

Those words sliced through him like a knife, cutting to the quick even though he really did not think she meant that she did not ever need him. She meant right now. Didn't she? Maybe she did mean ever.

"Okay. I know you can do it." He watched her, slowly inches her way into the living room, taking a seat on the closest end of the beige sofa, grabbing a pillow and holding it to her as though it was some type of shield, protection. Against what? Him?

He took his jacket off, laid it across the back of the couch and came to sit beside her, about a foot away. She still would not meet his gaze and though he had come here to talk, now he was not sure what he wanted to say. Well, that was not really true. He was very sure about what he wanted to say, but he was not sure about what he was going to say...what he could say. Their silences were something he used to savor. They were easy, comfortable. During those silences it was as though they could actually read each others mind, intuitively knowing what each was thinking, feeling. Words were unnecessary for them to connect. Tonight, however, the silence was anything but comfortable. They sat there for several long minutes, the silence between them becoming louder and louder, until she could no longer stand it.

"You said you need to talk to me...so talk" and she sighed heavily, finally turning to look at him, leaning toward him just a bit. When she did, he was close enough to see tiny specks of mascara flakes laying below her bottom lashes, and that her brown eyes were so dark they were almost black. He could not see the pupils. The only times her eyes got like, he knew, was when she was either mad as hell or scared out of her wits. Looking into her eyes right now, he thought that this might be the first time she was both.

"I-I..uh..just...uh...Liv, I will never be able thank you enough for what you did today," he started.

She interrupted him, "Look, you already thanked me and I already told you anyone would have done the same thing."

"Maybe they would have, but someone else may not have kept trying. Someone else might have given up or been to two of it to do what needed to be done. You kept on because of you and me."

"What do you mean 'because of you and me'? I would have done the same thing for anyone else."

"Oh, come on. You don't really expect me to believe you didn't push the EMTs just a little harder because it was my family involved, do you?" He did not know why but he was beginning to feel anger creep up on him and knew it was in his voice, too. He did not know why she could so quickly evoke that reaction in him. Sometimes she was a pain in the butt!

"What? You think you and your family are so darned special that you would get treatment above and beyond what anyone else would? We were in an accident, Elliot! Did you think I would just sit around and wait for someone else to help? I'm a cop, a public servant, for Pete's sake! "

Somehow she had stood up and he had done the same. Yep, she was mad but just why he was sure he did not know. Not a clue.

"Olivia..."

"How about you get the hell out of my apartment and go back to your special wife and family. She's in the hospital. You should be there with her! Not here! Not with me! Just go, Elliot! Go!!" She was nearly shouting as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared angrily at him.

They were standing so close, the stubble on his face was no longer a shadow, but individual points of hair jutting from his strong jaw. His clear blue eyes had turn midnight, stormy. It never ceased to amaze her how many different shades of blue his eyes could turn depending on his mood. She knew what every color, every shade meant and midnight blue equaled seething anger. She unconsciously steeled herself for the impending onslaught of rage she knew was about to erupt. It never came.

Elliott was taking deep breaths and his fists were clenching and unclenching, the muscles in his jaw flexing and un-flexing, and Olivia knew he was trying to calm himself down. This was something new since she came back from Oregon. A new, calmer Elliott. She could not help but think it used to be her job to calm him down and now even that had been taken way.

A deep sigh escaped from him as he ran his hands over his head, rubbed his neck and dragged his hands down his face. "Listen, I didn't come here to fight. I don't want to fight with you. I only wanted to say thanks again..."

"Elliot...if you say that one more time..." He really could be hard to be around at times.

The look he gave her was so tender, it shook her to the core of her being. He continued, "...and I wanted to tell you how relieved I am that nothing bad happened to you. That you were not seriously injured, or..or...God, Liv...when Fin told me about the accident...you were the one that I...but... you were okay...I don't know what I...because you mean so...you are my...I don't...if something happened to you...if you had...I-I couldn't go on...it...it'd...be more than I...oh, Liv, Liv..." he wanted desperately to tell her how he felt but the tears choked his voice and his breathing became shallow and rough, each breath a struggle.

And then, so quickly she had no time for a reaction to what he was doing, he had pulled her into his arms for the second time that day, tears sliding down his cheeks. When he touched her, his tears came harder and faster, like a flood breaking over a dam and he began to sob as he held her to him. Elliott Stabler did not sob.

For just a minute, she let herself go, just like at the hospital, wrapping her arms around him and taking in everything about him. His smell, his warmth, the stubble on his chin as it scraped against her cheek, the feel of his body against hers. His hands running up and down her back , then tangling in her hair, on her face wiping her tears away. She tried convinced herself she was only comforting him because he was crying so hard, shattering right before her. She had never seen him like this.

"Shh, El...shh...its okay. I'm here, I'm here. Nothing happened to me. Shh...it's okay...I'm fine," she whispered to him as her tears mixed with his. He could not speak. The sobs continued. Her hands caressed his back, his face, trying to calm him down, ease his emotional distress.

She had to fix him. That's what they did...they fixed each other. In her mind she knew they were treading into waters they had no business in and she was about to slip under the crashing waves. His crying slowed. This time when he pulled back from her and looked into her eyes, his red-rimmed with tears still pooling in them, she knew it was going to end differently. Her hands, acting on their own accord, reached up, her thumbs gently wiping the remaining tears from his cheeks. His hand came back to her face, thumbs brushing over her lips. Her throat and mouth were dry, she swallowed hard and licked her lips and as she did his eyes followed her tongue. She knew this was a mistake almost immediately because he bent toward her. Her heart was about to jump out of her body as he leaned closer and closer, his lips millimeters from hers. The connections between her mind and body must have been seared by the heat of his touch. She could not move, could not think, could not even breathe. There was only Elliot. And she was powerless to stop him, them, from falling over the wall, the boundaries they had fought so hard to maintain. And then it happened.

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