A/N: As promised, here's the next chapter. Updating in a timely manner is one of my New Year's resolutions. Haha. A few things:
1.) This chapter is kind of long. There was a lot that I had to include, but I didn't want to split it up. Hope this isn't a problem.
2.)Again, this is not beta-read. Mistakes are all mine. If something doesn't make sense, please alert me to it.
3.)My medical research may not be a hundred percent accurate, but I did my best.
Thank you all for reading and leaving me reviews! Again, they mean SO much! Please continue. And enjoy!
Disclaimer: Dick Wolf's New Year's resolution is to promise EO fans some action! Well, at least it should be. Until then, I can only offer some drama in its place. Dick Wolf still owns everything though.
Chapter 4: Fighting Flight
Yesterday was a blur. Well, not all of it. Everything before Dickie Stabler's untimely entrance and angry departure was crystal clear. It was everything following Elliot running outside after his son that was a blur.
She vaguely remembered dressing with lightning speed before Lizzie walked in. With a mumbled "call me if you need anything" she had bolted, fleeing Queens and trying to outrun the consequences of what she'd just done.
Her cab had dropped her off at a corner liquor store near her apartment building, where she'd purchased a cheap bottle of vodka before walking the rest of the way home. Thoughts had buzzed around in her head, making her dizzy.
What had she been thinking?
Obviously, she hadn't been.
She wasn't ready to accept what had just happened, what it meant, how it had made her feel. Guilt had taken hold of her during her shower and she was glad she'd anticipated needing the alcohol to make it go away.
But the lingering effects of the vodka were making her Tuesday morning hell. Her head was killing her. Her mouth was dry. At this point she didn't even know if she'd fallen asleep voluntarily or if she'd past out. Given her haphazard position on the still-made bed, she leaned toward the latter.
She didn't want to move, but her pre-set alarm was blaring in her ear and making her head throb. A twinge of pain ran through her hand when she shut off the alarm. That's when she saw the bloody gash on her hand. It took her a moment longer to remember how it had gotten there.
Broken glass. The smell of alcohol. The pain of the vodka mingling with her blood.
After her guilt about having sex with her partner had worn off with the help of the vodka, anger had seized her. At first it had been directed at Elliot because he hadn't told her about the divorce. But then she had channeled that anger on herself because she should have had more control. She shouldn't have let Elliot touch her. Not so intimately. So completely.
That's when she'd started drinking with a clear purpose: to guzzle booze until the anger and the embarrassment went away. Each drink had made her a little number. Elliot's betrayal—as she'd come to see it—had been slowly suffocated with the alcohol.
But even though she drank at a rate that took her to oblivion within an hour or so, the anger had stayed with her. And it had changed. She had still been the target but the anger had hit a different part of her conscience.
The vodka had turned into her enemy. She knew drinking because of a man was wrong. It was something her mother had done, something Olivia had hated while growing up. It was something she had vowed she'd never do.
But there she was, drinking of Elliot, getting shit-faced because she didn't know how to cope with what had passed between them.
Olivia had become so enraged with her realization that she had screamed and smashed the bottle into the kitchen sink.
So that's where the cut on her hand had come from. She supposed she deserved it.
A small sliver of glass remained in the wound and Olivia picked at it as she lay on the bed. She rose slowly and went into the bathroom to bandage the cut, the soreness between her legs making every step uncomfortable.
Apparently the alcohol wasn't the only thing making her miserable. She was hung over on Elliot too.
Beside her whole body being sore, Olivia noticed she had bruises on her hips, just as she'd predicted. There was a mark on her shoulder that looked like a bite. Also Elliot's doing.
She thought the unpleasant reminders of her lapse in control were suiting and a possible indication of what the future held for their partnership. It was damaged now, just like her body. But her body would heal with time. She wasn't sure their partnership would be able to regenerate as easily.
There was no going back to what they'd once had. The fine line that kept personal and professional separate was now completely erased. Olivia wasn't even sure she'd be able look at him without feeling ashamed, exposed.
This whole thing was a big mess and it felt like she was crumbling into pieces.
She didn't know what she wanted anymore.
***
Every attempt Olivia made to return pleasant conversation ended in failure; she'd only managed to sound angry or indifferent. Then again, she'd only had two chances before Elliot had left for court. Bushido's trial was this afternoon and he was a star witness. There was no telling how long he'd be gone.
His absence left Olivia too much time to think. Her thoughts were driving her crazy and the mish-mash of emotions she felt were just as teeth-grinding. One minute she'd fell guilty—for the sex and possibly being the reason Elliot and Kathy's marriage had ended—the next she was mad. She was angry with herself, with Elliot, with the criminals being led in and out of the squad room.
She knew that she needed to talk to Elliot eventually, but that thought scared her. She wasn't sure she'd survive the kind of conversation they needed to have.
These and other thoughts plagued her in between case files and follow-ups. She delayed going home as long as possible. She needed to see Elliot. Olivia needed to talk to him about the sex they never should have had, to confirm that they were going to get past it and get back to normal.
Ha. Normal. It wasn't a word associated with their partnership. Relationship. Whatever it was.
She stayed after Munch and Fin went home for the night. Even Cragen told her to leave. There were no major cases to work on at the moment, and he told her to not take the break for granted. But she didn't listen.
She sat at her desk, waiting.
Four phone calls, a cup of coffee, and a lost intern made up the next hour.
Olivia decided she wasn't going to wait around any longer. Elliot must have gone home after the trial.
She was angry again because she hadn't been able to ask Elliot why he hadn't told her anything about the divorce. Her anger had been festering all day and she needed a decent night's sleep to calm down.
Standing in front of the elevators, she rocked on the balls of her feet while she waited for the doors to open.
Elliot saw her face register surprise before turning into an outright frown. For the short time he had been with her today, she had shut him down every time he attempted small talk. It didn't look like things had changed.
"Hi," he said.
Other words came to his mind—ones of apology, explanation—but he couldn't say them in the face of the hostility that was emanating from her.
He knew she had every right to be angry with him. He was angry at himself for how he had treated her and how he had left her so abruptly. He'd never got the chance to tell her what he'd wanted to. There was a lot left unsaid between them yesterday.
Now he had the perfect opportunity to say everything. If he had her trapped in the elevator, she'd have to at least hear him out. It gave him less than a minute to explain his actions and confess his feelings, but it would have to be enough.
"Aren't you getting out?" she questioned.
He had planned on picking a few things up, but there was no way he was getting out of the elevator and losing his chance to talk to her.
"No," he answered, shaking his head and clasping his hands in front of him.
She didn't want to get into the elevator with Elliot. His sudden appearance had rattled her and agitated her angry thoughts. She had to keep her emotions in check, and if she stepped onto the elevator, the chances of that happening were very slim.
No, she'd just take the stairs.
But her feet moved by themselves, her body once again betraying her sensible mind, and she found herself in the small square box with the man that affected her in more ways than one.
The doors closed, Elliot turned toward her and Olivia stopped breathing.
"Whatever you have to say, Elliot, I don't really want to hear it." Her tone was hard, but he heard the pain that lay underneath.
"Give me a chance to explain," he started.
Olivia turned to face him, anger flashing in her brown eyes.
"Elliot, I've given you chances. You're just determined to keep me in the dark about everything," she bit out in an accusing tone.
Her heated words surprised and worried him.
Olivia paused to take back control before adding in a heartbreaking whisper, "How long?"
She meant how long ago had he and Kathy ended their marriage. Elliot cringed because he knew she wasn't going to like the answer.
"Over a week," he said softly, "I was going to tell you sooner."
"No you weren't," she stated, the edge back in her voice. "You never tell me the important stuff El."
The hurt she was feeling was clear as day, but he knew reaching for her—even to reassure her—would push her farther away.
"Olivia, I wanna tell you everything."
There were tears in her eyes when she looked up at him, but her cold voice still cut into him like a knife.
"I wish that were true. I do. But I know you better than that. Things aren't going to change, not for the better."
"What's that supposed to mean?" He felt like he had had this conversation before and, once again, things weren't going in his favor.
Olivia couldn't look at him. The elevator had reached the ground floor and she moved closer to the doors so she could make a run for it once they opened.
"It means that you've pushed me away for too long El, and I can't take it anymore. If you want to shut me out of parts of your life, maybe it would be better if I wasn't in it at all."
By the time she'd said the words, the doors had opened and she rushed out of the precinct and to the parking lot, trying to get away from him before her emotions got the best of her. Her lack of control was pathetic.
Elliot wasn't ready to give up. He still had things to tell her and, by God, he was going to say them. He chased after her until he reached her car.
"Olivia, I'm sorry," he huffed out. "And I know you deserve more than that from me. I want to give you an explanation."
She looked at him from where she was sitting in the driver's seat. "Go ahead," she encouraged, her voice small and pleading.
He really didn't know where to start. "I should've told you about Kathy. But I was still a little shocked. I mean, she just abandoned the kids. They didn't know how to take that."
"She shouldn't have left the kids like that," Olivia put in.
Elliot continued, encouraged that she was responding to him. It meant she was listening. "After the kids adjusted, I…I didn't know how to tell you. I was afraid of how you'd react. Of what you'd say."
"I would've told you to work it out somehow," she commented quietly. "For the kids."
"Exactly, but there was nothing to work out. At least that's what Kathy told me. She said I couldn't fix it even if I tried."
His explanation was met with silence. Elliot knew she needed more.
"But that doesn't justify me keeping you out of the loop," he said as an apology.
"No, it doesn't." He couldn't tell if she was angry again or if she was just making a comment for the sake of conversation.
"Please, I don't deserve it, but I need you to forgive me. I need to know I can hold things together with you."
She took a moment to think. "If I say I forgive you right now, I won't mean it. And I want to mean it….Just give me some time, El. Right now, I don't know whether to be mad at you or myself."
She was talking about the sex, Elliot guessed. She still felt guilty. In her mind she linked the sex with his divorce. She was wrong, of course, but it was going to take her a while to accept that.
"Don't blame yourself Liv," he told her. "It's not your fault that I love you."
She would have fallen if she hadn't already been sitting.
Had that really just come out of his mouth?
"What?" her question came out on a raspy breath, like she was choking on the air around her.
Okay, so he had just said it.
"I love you," he repeated, his cheeks heating with the words he. "Olivia, I love you." He liked how it sounded rolling off his tongue.
"Stop saying that," she snapped, wiping the smile from his face.
"Why?"
"Because you don't mean it. Y-you can't possibly mean it!"
She wanted to believe it. She wanted to take him into her arms, tell him that she loved him back, and kiss the breath out of him. But she stopped herself because she felt that confession would just set her up for more heartache. Self-preservation kicked into gear.
"I do….I mean it," Elliot stammered her. This was not the way he'd imagined this conversation going. "God Liv, I've loved you for a long time."
"Elliot, stop," she exclaimed. "I can't hear this right now." She couldn't put up a fight anymore. She had to get of there.
"Move outta my way," she ordered, trying to close the door he was holding open. She fought to keep the tears from falling out of her eyes.
"Then I'll wait 'til you're ready to hear it," he mumbled, more to himself than to her.
"El, please…"
Reluctantly, Elliot stood up straight. Next thing he knew the door was shut and the engine roared to life. If he'd been standing any closer when she pulled out, his foot would have been run over.
He'd finally said what he'd been thinking for years. His feelings were released, out in the open. Now he just had to wait on her to be ready to come to him.
And he would wait for as long as he needed to.
***
Wednesday morning found Elliot heaving into the toilet bowl. Because he knew there wasn't any alcohol in his system, he placed the blame on a spontaneous virus. The kind he only got when he really didn't need them.
He had always hated taking time off of work, especially sick time. The fact that he'd only been back to work two days—and that he desperately wanted to see Olivia—didn't make it any better. But he'd called in sick just the same.
To put it simply, he felt like shit. His head began spinning when he stood for any length of time. His stomach wouldn't hold on to anything, not even coffee. He felt like someone had sucker punched him in the gut before hitting him across the forehead with a hot fire-poker.
He'd resigned himself to the fact that he would just have to stay home and recuperate. He'd face the consequences later, and his partner. He didn't even feel like getting out of bed.
"Dad?" Lizzie called from outside his door.
"You can come in," he grumbled, flinching at the light from the hallway.
"Phone's for you," she told him, handing over the cordless house phone. "It's Olivia."
"Olivia?" he asked.
She nodded, and then placed her hand over the mouthpiece before saying, "And she sounds pretty pissed off. Thought I'd warn you."
"Thanks."
Lizzie left, shutting the door behind her. Elliot sighed and put the phone to his ear.
"Hello?"
"You've got some balls to call in sick, El." His daughter was right. She was pissed.
His head couldn't take a screaming match over the phone.
"Is there a purpose to this call beyond tearing me a new one?" he retorted, imitating her tone.
"We've got a case. We…I could really use your help." There was something in her voice that told him this was about more than just the case.
He knew he didn't really have a choice. Not if he wanted Olivia's forgiveness.
Damn he had the worst timing when it came to getting sick.
"Well? Can I count on you being there?" She'd thrown her gauntlet.
This was a challenge he couldn't refuse.
"Where d'ya need me?" he asked.
"Meet me at Bellevue Hospital. I'm at the crime scene now." Something about her tone lightened with his agreement.
"I'll be there," he promised.
"Good. See you within the hour."
***
He was at the nurse's station to greet her when she walked in, her leather coat sporting a dusting of snow from the early December weather.
"Our vic's in room 247 of ICU. She's still unconscious. But, the neighbor's awake and ready to give a statement. She's down the hall," Elliot reported. "You get anything from the crime scene?"
Just that short speech left him winded and he had to split his focus between breathing normally and listening to her.
Olivia looked him over and felt bad for accusing him of faking sick. His appearance told her he hadn't been lying and she softened immediately.
"Yeah," she answered, trying to push her concern for her partner to the side so she could focus on the case at hand.
"Our victim, Chelsea Verden, was sodomized with a metal meat tenderizer before being beaten with it," she told him solemnly. She couldn't begin to imagine the pain the twelve-year-old had gone through.
"Jesus," Elliot swore, pain clouding his eyes before he glanced away from her. She knew he was thinking of his own children. Lizzie was only a few years older than their victim.
She wanted to distract him from thinking about the case for a moment. She didn't want him thinking about the gruesome crime.
"You don't look too good," she commented as she stepped closer.
"I'll be fine," he replied.
Olivia was unconvinced. She could hear his labored, uneven breathing and see his sallow skin. His eyes were tired. Without warning she raised one hand and felt his forehead with the back of it.
"Elliot you're burning up."
As much as he loved her touching him and showing him concern, he wanted to focus on the case and not his sickness. It could wait.
"I probably just have whatever Eli had," he reasoned, never breaking stride as they made their way down the hall.
"How is he?" she asked, not wanting to push the conversation to anywhere he didn't want it to go. She wasn't sure where she stood with him right now. Their partnership was on shaky ground and she was determined to not be the one to wreck it compeltely.
Elliot always cracked a smile when he thought of his youngest son. "He's better. Fever's gone and the puking stopped."
"Always encouraging," she quipped. "I guess he just passed his fever on to you. Is he back at daycare?"
He shook his head. "No. Lizzie and Dickie are off school today. Parent-teacher conferences. Lizzie's watching him for me."
"How's Dickie?" It was the first question that could lead them down the road she had wanted to avoid, but knew they had to travel eventually.
Elliot was surprised by her question but was happy she was willing to address the subject. It was progress for them. "I'd like to say he's better too, but I might be lying. He still won't talk to me," he told her.
"I'm sorry." She felt the need to apologize.
"Nah, it'll be okay. He'll come around in a few days. He's just taking the divorce hard. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine," Elliot said.
At the mention of the divorce, Olivia decided it would be best to shy away from the topic. They were standing outside of the neighbor's room anyway, just staring at each other.
He saw the shift in her eyes and knew the conversation was over.
"Ready?" she asked.
"After you," he responded.
Olivia entered the room first and Elliot followed.
"Ms. Ford, I'm Detective Benson and this is my partner, Detective Stabler."
"Please, call me Miranda."
Except for the bandage wrapping around her head and covering one side of her face, Miranda seemed to be dealing with the fact that she'd been clobbered in the side of the head with a meat tenderizer rather well.
Her eyes were bright, if not a little glassy because of the pain medication she was on. She even had a smile ready for the detectives.
"Miranda, we're here to ask you a few questions. Are you up to it?" Elliot asked in a gentlemanly fashion.
"Oh yes," the woman answered. She appeared to be in her later fifties.
"Good," Olivia responded in a soft voice. "Can you tell us what happened?"
Miranda didn't need a moment to think, indicating to Olivia that she'd been replaying the nightmare over and over in her head while she'd been awake.
"Well, I heard screaming and banging through my apartment wall. It sounded like things were being thrown around and I became quite worried. Chelsea's often home alone, and I've always tried to keep an eye out for her. I never thought I'd need to though."
She was lost to her own memories for a moment and Elliot had to guide her back with a prompt. "Is that when you called the police? When you heard the commotion?"
"Yes. I called them. They told me to stay in my apartment, but I couldn't do that. Sometimes the police are very slow at getting where they need to be." The woman blushed slightly. "I didn't mean that in an offensive way."
"It's okay," Olivia said with a small smile. "So you went to Chelsea's apartment?"
She nodded, her eyes getting misty. "The door wasn't shut completely. I went inside. I…I saw Chelsea on the floor. She wasn't screaming anymore….And a man was standing over her. H-he had something in his hand and he kept hit-hitting her until he saw m-me."
They didn't need to hear anymore about the assault. Olivia knew the recollection was disturbing the woman.
"Did you get a look at his face? Could you describe him to a sketch artist?" she asked.
"Most certainly. I got a decent look at him before he hit me. I remember his face."
With their thanks and a promise to send a sketch artist in as soon as possible, the detectives left Miranda to rest.
As they walked back down to the nurses' station, they talked about the case. They were hopeful that Miranda would be able to give the sketch artist a good description so they could catch the man who had done this to Chelsea.
"Has there been any change?" Elliot asked one of the nurses.
Even though the hospital was as busy as usual, the nurse knew which patient he was referring to.
"Her bones have all been set again. The doctor's still finishing with the stitches. That girl's in a lot of pain," the nurse remarked sadly.
"Is she awake?" Olivia didn't mean for it to sound so uncaring. There were times when she didn't think anyone could care about the victims like she did. But the sooner they were able to talk to Chelsea, the sooner they could find out who had done this to her.
The nurse didn't like the question. "She's not in any shape to be having questions thrown down her throat, detective," she ground out.
"Ma'am," Elliot began, using his charm to try and gain an audience with the victim. "If we can just get a name from her, we can get the criminal off the streets. We won't be two minutes. Please…" he finished.
Olivia heard the raspy quality of his voice, and although it was working to their advantage with the nurse, she knew that his sudden difficulty breathing wasn't because of his concern for the victim.
"Alright," the nurse said reluctantly. "But only two minutes."
"Thank you," Elliot muttered before he and Olivia turned in the direction of the Intensive Care Unit.
"You can't be in here," the doctor told them when they walked in, as he packed up his suture kit.
"We're detectives," Olivia said, flashing him her badge. "We need to ask Chelsea a few questions."
"Not right now you don't."
"Detectives?" the girl piped up from her bed, her voice shaky, untrusting.
"Yes Chelsea," Olivia confirmed in a soft voice she only used when speaking with a victim. "Do you know who did this to you?"
"No questions!" the doctor nearly shouted. "She needs rest. Can't you see that?" He was just trying to be protective.
It was obvious that Chelsea was going to need a lot of rest and time to heal from her injuries, but time was of the essence. Chelsea seemed to know this as well.
"No, I want to answer them," she said weakly.
"Go on," Elliot encouraged from where he was standing in the back of the room, trying not to encroach on her space. He knew female victims were often threatened by his presence, and so he did all in his power to be present, but not overpowering.
"His name is Erik Donovan. He's my g-godfather," Chelsea told them, breaking down into tears with her words.
Olivia stepped forward and grasped her hand, the one that wasn't broken and in a cast. The perpetrator had done massive amounts of damage to her arms and legs. She guessed his intention wasn't to kill his goddaughter, just beat her to within an inch of her life.
Luckily Chelsea's neighbor had interrupted the beating before he could carry out his sadistic goal to the fullest extent.
"We'll catch him Chelsea," Olivia promised with a whisper. "He won't be able to hurt you or anyone else ever again."
The pre-teen continued to cry. "Thank you," she told Olivia. She shifted her head so she could thank Elliot too, but her face twisted in confusion.
"Is he okay?" she asked.
Olivia turned back to her partner. "Elliot?" she questioned, concern and a little fear accompanying the word.
Elliot couldn't hear what the people in the room were saying. Olivia's mouth was moving but no sound reached his ears. He was dizzy, letting the wall he was leaning against hold him up.
Elliot saw her mouth his name again, but he didn't have the breath to tell her what was wrong, to tell her his heart was palpitating inside his chest and that he was nauseous again.
The room was unbearably hot. He could feel sweat sliding down his face. Dark spots crept into the corners of his eyes and he knew what was coming next.
Olivia saw him start to collapse and she stepped forward in time for him to slump into her arms.
"Elliot!" she yelled into his ear, but she got no response.
***
It had been nearly two hours since Elliot had been taken away on a gurney. The doctors told her they were running tests. They weren't running them fast enough for Olivia. She wanted answers. She wanted to know what was wrong with her partner, if he was going to be okay.
His unexpected collapse almost worried her more than when Bushido had shot him. Gunshots she understood. Mysterious fainting spells left too many unanswered questions and too many frightening possibilities.
In the few moments she wasn't busy worrying, Olivia stopped by Miranda Ford's room again to see how she was doing with the sketch artist. She'd also visited Chelsea again, but hadn't gone into the sleeping girl's room. She'd even taken a moment to make phone calls. One went to Cragen to update him on the case and tell him about Elliot's sudden collapse. The other was placed to Kathy. Pure relief washed over her when the woman didn't answer the phone.
She hadn't called any of the Stabler children because she didn't want to worry them when she didn't have any answers.
Now she was back to pacing and wringing her hands as she stood in the emergency room waiting area.
"Mrs. Stabler?" a blonde doctor asked, removing his surgical mask as he approached her.
"It's Detective Benson," she corrected without much gusto. "I'm his partner. What's going on?"
The young doctor looked like he wasn't going to answer, but must have changed his mind when she glared at him. "He's out of surgery now."
"You had to operate?" Olivia interrupted loudly, angry that she hadn't been informed. What if something had happened to him?
"It was a simple, but necessary, procedure. We had to remove the infected tissue from his shoulder and arm wounds."
"They were infected," she repeated for clarification. "How did that happen?"
The man looked irritated with her interruptions, but didn't say so. "We don't have conclusive results yet," he said, then hurried to say the rest of the prognosis. "Most likely it's a Staph infection resulting from improper care of the gunshot wounds. But it could have been transferred through simply touching the bacteria. If his immune system was weak from stress or for any other reason, he'd be more likely to pick it up. At this point, there's no sure way to tell."
"So, why did he get sudden symptoms and faint? Is that from the infection?"
"The Staph infection made its way into his blood stream, where it turned into something called Sepsis. That's what brought on the labored breathing and the increase in heart rate and his other symptoms."
"It's treatable right? He's going to be okay?" There was worry in her voice.
"With strong antibiotics he'll recover just fine. But we're going to keep him here at least overnight."
"Thank you," she said. "Can I see him?"
He nodded. "I think he'd like that. He's in recovery now."
"Thank you," she repeated before heading in the direction of the recovery wing.
Once she found his room, she went in, taking note of the different machines he was hooked up to and the sling holding up his left arm.
"Hey," he greeted, sounding surprised. "What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Chelsea or out finding the bastard that put her in here?"
"Munch and Fin took over. They have the sketch Miranda Ford supplied and they're looking for him now. Cragen told me to stay here."
"Oh, so it's not voluntary," he replied, sounding disappointed.
She ignored his pout. She'd come to another realization while she'd been waiting to hear if he was alright. Now she just had to find a way to tell him.
"You know, I don't really like seeing you in the hospital," she began as she took up a seat beside his bed. "Don't you think you could stay out of here for a month?"
"Sorry."
"I forgive you," she said, then added, "I'll forgive you for everything as long as you don't ever scare me like that again."
Was she really taking the leap to accept what had happened between them and forgive him for not telling her about things sooner? He almost couldn't believe it.
"Will you mean it?" he asked, his question sincere.
"Yes," she responded truthfully.
He couldn't contain a smile. "Okay. Deal."
She'd managed to say part of what she'd wanted to, but there was more.
"The doctor said that you're probably in here because you didn't clean your wounds properly," she reported, deciding for herself that it was the more probable cause.
"I cleaned them," he protested. "I didn't have your magic bubbles though."
She smiled without showing her teeth. She remembered blowing on his wounds as she'd cleaned hem just over two weeks ago.
"I'll be more than happy to blow peroxide bubbles for you if it means keeping you out of the hospital."
It was his turn to grin. "So you do care," he commented.
"In sickness and in health," she said, quoting a common wedding vow that she found fitting for whatever it was they had. "I think that rule applies to partnerships too."
Her words made his lips curl up in a goofy grin.
She reached for his hand and he entwined their fingers together.
"I'll always be here for you, El."
"Same here." He wanted to say that he loved her again, but he didn't want to ruin the moment she was giving him.
She was grateful that he wasn't pushing her to say what he wanted to hear. Again, she found herself torn between saving their partnership and telling him how she truly felt about him.
She did love him. Probably for a lot longer than he had loved her. But she just wasn't able to say it out loud.
"I'll always care…" she told him softly, tears clogging her throat and blurring her vision. It was the closest she was going to come to saying the three little words that would either tear her world apart or make it that much better.
Elliot needed to show how her words affected him without words. Silently he lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of hers.
"When you're ready," he told her. "I'll wait."
She nodded before wiping at the tears that had escaped the black bars framing the cells of her eyes.
"For a little while at least," he added in a joking manner.
She laughed a little and they fell into the first easy silence they'd had in a while.
Naturally it wasn't long before they were interrupted. Ringing sounded from her hip and she glanced at the caller ID.
"It's Munch. I'd better take this," she told Elliot before walking out of the room. Phones were strictly forbidden in the ICU, but if Munch was calling her it was for a good reason. Maybe he and Fin had gotten a lucky break on the case.
"Make it quick Munch," she answered in lieu of her standard greeting. "The nurses will ban me if they see me on the phone."
The older man chuckled softly into the receiver. He must have been in a good mood to be laughing, which immediately gave Olivia hope for an open and shut case.
"Well then, I'll just tell you the good news. Our perp was brought in by a uniform five minutes ago."
"He turn himself in?" She was impressed with the quick apprehension of the perpetrator.
"Just about. After he fled the scene of the crime he decided to go to a local bar. He started bragging to the bartender after a few gin and tonics."
The idea that anyone could brag about abusing and nearly killing a little girl made her sick, but Olivia was glad the bastard was off the streets.
Munch continued talking. "The good bartender kept supplying him with free drinks until the uniforms showed up. We're waiting for him to sober up before we read him his rights."
"I'll be sure to tell Elliot. Is that all?"
"Suppose so. How's your partner?"
"Stable. I'll give you an update later. Nurse is coming down the hallway."
She didn't wait for a goodbye and snapped the phone shut.
Her smile was gaining wattage with each passing moment and she entered Elliot's room looking forward to telling him they'd caught the sonofabitch who'd abused his goddaughter.
Even before she approached the bed, she knew he was asleep. The oxygen mask had helped even out his breathing and the heart rate monitor was beeping at a steady pace. Although she had good news, she didn't want to wake him.
She'd just settled herself into the chair beside his bed again when her phone rang a second time.
Thinking it was Munch, she flipped the phone open as she quickly ducked out of the room again.
"What is it?" she asked.
What she heard was not Munch's voice. And there were too many noises in the background to identify the speaker immediately.
"Olivia," the voice cracked and broke with fear. "Olivia, you have to help us."
She recognized that voice now.
"Lizzie? What's going on?" She could barely hear over all the noise.
Eli was crying and throwing a fit somewhere close to the phone. And someone else was screaming. It was a woman. Olivia started trotting down the hospital hallway; she knew that this wasn't something that could wait.
"She's trying to get Eli. She wants to take him away," Lizzie told Olivia before screaming, "Go away mom! You're not taking him with you!"
Kathy's voice could be heard returning the yell. "Elizabeth Anne Stabler, you let me in this door right now!" Banging accompanied the order.
"No! Go away!"
The teenager was breathing so hard Olivia was afraid she was going to hyperventilate and pass out. She needed to calm her down.
"Lizzie, where are you in the house?" she asked loudly over the crying and yelling and door pounding.
"The bedroom. Eli was sleeping. She's trying to take him Livia." The detective could hear the tears in her voice.
"Okay, calm down."
But Lizzie wasn't listening. She was screaming at her mother again. From what she could hear over the phone, Kathy had stopped using her fists to hit the door and was using her shoulder.
Olivia tried to get the terrified girl's attention again. Even though she was getting into her car, she knew she'd never get there before Kathy got through the door and did something stupid.
"Lizzie, honey, you need to hang up with me and call the police."
That comment finally broke through.
"You are the police!" she yelled at Olivia.
Between yelling at her mother and Olivia, Lizzie Stabler was nearly in hysterics.
"Lizzie—" Olivia started, but was cut off by the unmistakable sound of a door crashing open. Olivia could picture the wood splintering, followed by the image of an angry woman storming into the room.
Lizzie was screaming again, in true panic.
"Get. Out. Get out. Getout!"she repeated.
"Move!" her mother yelled back. "I'm taking my son!"
"No!" Lizzie bellowed.
Olivia was completely powerless to do anything but listen even as her sirens helped her part traffic. She was still at least fifteen minutes away from the Stabler home. She just prayed that Kathy wasn't armed.
"Lizzie get out of my way!"
The next thing Olivia heard was a loud crash in her ear as the phone dropped to the floor.
"Lizzie?" She yelled the question.
She heard the two women grunting and screaming at each other as they scuffled. Eli's cries had grown louder.
Then there was a sickening thud and all the screaming suddenly stopped. Someone had fallen to the floor.
"Lizzie?" she yelled again, hoping the teenager wasn't seriously hurt.
"Shh…." It was Kathy's voice. She was soothing Eli. "Everything's going to be okay now, baby boy."
The child's cries slowly faded as he was taken out of the room, leaving Olivia with a heavy silence.
She tried calling Lizzie's name one last time, but when she didn't get as much as a grumble, Olivia ended the call.
As her car practically flew down the road, she radioed the local Queens police station to tell them about the altercation and abduction of a detective's son.
"Shit," she exclaimed once she had sent out the alert.
A/N: Well how's that for a cliffhanger? I hope it has you looking forward to what's to come in what could be the last chapter. This story has already gone farther than I expected and I'm so happy that you've all stuck with me, but I don't want to stretch this on forever and ever.
But don't worry. I've got some other stories cooking up on the back burner that I'll be happy to share. :)
Everyone have a Happy New Year!
Only five days until SVU returns! Yay!