Chapter Note:
This chapter was initially posted at 4am on Christmas, 2008. Things are starting to get more complicated for Liv and El. Tensions are running high, but we end on a good E/O note. Also, side note, but this was the chapter where I realized how much I love writing the interplay between Olivia and Fin. I give them more time together in subsequent chapters, and I think this was the precursor to that.
Chapter Six
Morning came all too soon, and it had been a restless night for the both of them. They had regarded one another somewhat awkwardly when Olivia emerged from her bedroom. Olivia felt self-conscious for having revealed so much of herself to Elliot, both physically and emotionally, and she was finding it hard to look him in the eye. Elliot felt guilty for his role in this, and was desperately seeking some sort of signal from her that would indicate that he had not managed to irrevocably damage their partnership. The fact that his every attempt at interaction was met by terse one word responses – if she chose to respond to him verbally at all, was not a good sign.
She had officially shut down.
Olivia sensed Elliot's worry, but it only served to augment her anger at herself for having broken down in front of him in the first place. Adding to her internal boxing match was the fact that she was acutely aware of the way in which her body had responded to Elliot's touch, and while she knew Elliot would never let on that he was aware of this, there was no way that he had missed her very obvious reaction to the feel of his hand on her breast. She shut her eyes at the recollection, caught somewhere between mortification and want.
Elliot did not have an inkling as to her train of thought, but immediately noticed the tension in her jaw as her eyes closed.
"Liv, are you–?"
"I'm fine El," she gritted. She knew she wasn't being fair by taking out her frustration on him, but she was more than a little on edge. If she was asked that question one more time she thought she might explode.
Elliot grunted somewhat sullenly, his concern and guilt quickly transforming into irritation as he ricocheted off of yet another verbal brick wall.
Olivia turned away from him, stalking down the hallway to finish getting ready. She longed for a hot shower and for some time to herself, but she didn't have that luxury today. No, instead she was going to have to endure a day filled with concerned glances, awkward silences, and what was likely going to be far too many coworkers getting a glimpse of her in various stages of undress. She yanked a gray crew neck sweater over her head, cursing as the material dragged along her sore wrists. She decided to leave the gauze on for the time being, not knowing which would draw more attention – the wounds or the bandages themselves. As she leaned over to pull on her boots, the dull ache in her head intensified to a throbbing insistence but she refused to take any more painkillers. If anything, the physical pain would serve as a distraction from the more abstract one of humiliation.
She took a deep breath before returning to the living room. Elliot was pacing by her window, already wearing his jacket. He turned as she entered, looking at her guardedly as if anticipating the next rebuff. Her eyes flitted up to meet his for only the briefest of acknowledgements, never slowing her pace as she walked to the door to slip on her own jacket. Elliot clenched his jaw and let out a sigh through his nose that he had intended to be inaudible, but Olivia heard it loud and clear.
She turned halfway toward him to call him on it, but thought better of it and turned back around, a scowl firmly planted on her face.
Frustrated, Elliot decided not to let it go.
"What?" he said irritably. He didn't have a view of her face, but knew she had rolled her eyes.
"Nothing."
Elliot chuckled bitterly. "Fine."
Olivia whipped her head around to glare at him. "Look, I'm sorry if I'm not in the best of moods today," she snapped. "As much fun as the past few days have been–"
"Oh, come on!" he interrupted. "And you think this has been easy for me?"
"Right," she said icily. "Forgive me if I think that somehow being assigned the task of playing photographer doesn't quite compare."
She headed for the door but Elliot blocked her path.
"Are you serious?" he seethed, his expression a mixture of incredulity and rage.
"Forget it," she spat. "We're going to be late."
She brushed past him, throwing open the door and blindly heading for the stairs. She knew she had crossed the line but she didn't care. She clung to her anger like a security blanket. As long as she stayed angry, the other emotions threatening to flood her would be kept at bay.
Elliot stood fuming, still reeling from the accusation. Part of him understood what she was doing, but that did little to soften the blow. He had been tormented by every agonizing second of the past night, and the implication that he had experienced anything less than that left him feeling as though he'd gotten the wind knocked out of him. His fists were clenched so tightly that they shook from the effort of remaining at his sides. He resisted the urge to punch a hole through her wall and settled on storming out of her apartment, slamming the door behind him.
By the time he got to the car, Olivia was already seated in the passenger side, her head propped up on the arm that rested against the glass. He made his way around the back of the car to take his place behind the wheel, shutting the door more forcefully than necessary and yanking his seatbelt across his lap. Olivia ignored his actions, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive posture and turning her head away from him to stare out her window. Elliot alternated between accelerating too rapidly and slamming on the brakes for the duration of the trip, his temper only worsening as he hit every single red light along the way.
More than one head turned as they entered the squad room. Between Olivia's pallid complexion and the dark circles under her eyes, and Elliot's rumpled clothing and the line of stubble dotting his jaw, haggard did not even begin to describe the two of them.
Munch and Fin looked up from where they had been going over the responses to Munch's postings as Carl in the chat room. Munch opened his mouth to make some crack about their appearance, but Fin preemptively silenced him with a nudge and a glare.
He backed down, but not completely. "Morning," he called a bit too cheerfully.
Fin shook his head, giving him a deprecating look.
Elliot narrowed his eyes in warning, and headed over to pour himself a cup of coffee.
Olivia nodded distractedly in their general direction before glancing anxiously at Cragen's office. His door was closed but she could hear him reaming somebody out over the telephone. Apparently foul moods abounded. She lowered herself into her chair and watched him through the glass, dreading the moment when he would hang up the phone.
Fin watched as she shrugged out of her jacket, catching a glimpse of white before Olivia was able to tug on her sleeves to conceal the bandages. His brow furrowed slightly and he walked over to join Elliot by the coffee machine.
"Hey," he said quietly. "Liv okay?"
Elliot reached across Fin to grab a coffee stirrer. "Sure," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Fin's voice dropped even lower. "You okay?"
Elliot's hand paused in the middle of its stirring. He leaned his head back slightly, breathing a defeated laugh through his nose. Returning his attention to his coffee, he tapped the straw against the rim a few times to rid it of the droplets clinging to the plastic. "No," he replied brusquely, tossing it into the trash. He took a sip, grimacing as the bitter liquid met his tongue. "You get anywhere with that?" he asked, gesturing to Munch who was typing God knows what in the chat room.
"Lots of fish biting, but no shark yet."
Elliot nodded.
"Do yourself a favor, man," Fin continued. "Don't read that shit."
Elliot looked at Fin for the first time. "I'm going to have to in case I ever get asked about any of it."
Fin inclined his head in Munch's direction. "All I'm saying is he's not pulling any punches." Fabricated or not, Fin knew that it was going to be hard for Elliot to read through the postings without picturing Olivia suffering at his hands. "And, uh, he's telling them that he's going to be uploading pictures soon."
Elliot set his jaw and glanced at Olivia. "Yeah, we got them."
Cragen finished his phone conversation and opened his door. "Elliot," he called, disappearing back into his office.
Elliot looked over at Olivia's rigid form and started to make his way across the room. He slowed his pace as he passed her. Her eyes darted up to meet his, the hardened mask she had worn all morning cracking slightly as her apprehension shone through. He attempted to silently communicate some reassurance, understanding that however difficult it might be, she wanted to be present when they went over the photographs. From what he could tell, Huang was nowhere to be found yet, so he hoped it meant that Cragen merely wanted to confirm that they had been taken.
"Cap?" he asked, purposefully leaving the door open to try to set her mind at ease.
Cragen looked over Elliot's shoulder to study Olivia. "Were you two able to–?" he stopped at Elliot's nod.
Elliot reached into his jacket pocket to pull out the tail end of the camera before letting it fall back in.
Cragen nodded. "Huang should be here soon. Munch has been making some headway in terms of getting a following of users on the site, but Huang doesn't think we'll know if Nikolai is among them until we post those pictures." He regarded his detective carefully for a moment before adding, "You still have some time, if you want to get yourself together."
The comment was matter of fact, without any traces of judgment or accusation as to why Elliot would still be wearing the same clothes from the day before.
Elliot nodded his assent before heading to the locker room to change. He rifled through the jumbled contents of his locker before finding a disposable razor. It was slightly dull, but he figured it was better than nothing given the fact that he was developing more of a beard at this point than a five o'clock shadow. He made his way to the restroom, chuckling as he caught sight of his reflection and wondering how Cragen had managed to get through their conversation without sending him away at first glance.
When he returned to his locker he pulled on a fresh shirt, forcing himself to put on a tie. He picked up his jacket from the bench, pulling out the camera and setting it aside. He felt inside the opposite pocket for his cuffs, and his fingers brushed against the thin gold band that he had forgotten he had placed inside. He held it in his palm, struck by the way in which the ring that had adorned his hand for over two decades suddenly seemed so foreign. No longer wanting to carry it with him, he slid it along the top shelf of his locker until he felt it meet the back wall. He folded his jacket and stuffed it inside before picking up the camera and returning to the main squad room.
Olivia was nervously tapping a pen between the index finger and thumb of her left hand, her mouth a thin line as she stared in the direction of Cragen's office. Elliot followed her gaze and saw that Huang had arrived. He sighed inwardly, feeling powerless to help her with any of this since she was so hell bent on pushing him away.
Olivia felt his presence before she saw him. He stood close enough for her to know that he was there, but made no move to get her attention. She did not turn to acknowledge him, not knowing whether she'd find frustration or concern reflected in his eyes. She didn't think that she would be able to cope with either one.
After a few moments she stood, tugging on the sleeves of her sweater once again before curling her fingertips around the edges to prevent the material from riding up. "Okay," she said.
Elliot accepted that the comment had been directed at him despite the fact that she had not turned to face him. He fell into step behind her, the weight of the camera leaden in his palm.
Olivia steeled herself as she entered Cragen's office, taking a seat in the same chair she had the night before.
Elliot pulled the door closed behind him, feeling somewhat guilty as he handed the camera to Huang. He shoved his hands into his pockets, opting to remain standing.
Huang studied the detectives for a moment before moving to stand closer to Cragen.
Olivia bristled at his silent appraisal. Huang always looked at people as though seeing straight through them. She was determined not to break under his scrutiny, no matter how uncomfortable the meeting became. Her mind returned to what she had revealed to Elliot the night before, and she hoped that he would keep his promise and not betray her confidence. She also realized that in a few moments Huang would have viewed the photographs preceding and following her breakdown – photos that she had yet to see – and suddenly became worried that he would be able to intuit her mental status from those alone. Her heart pounded in her chest and she prayed that he would attribute any rawness of emotion contained within them to her ability to put on a convincing act.
Cragen and Huang focused intently on the small LCD screen as Huang began to scroll through the images. The tension in the air was palpable. The muted sounds of the squad room were drowned out by the soft beep of the camera as Huang pressed the arrow key.
Elliot and Olivia had stopped breathing, each beep signifying the progression of Olivia's simulated assault.
Halfway through the frames, Cragen raised his eyes, looking pointedly at Elliot.
Though the exchange lasted only a matter of seconds, Elliot cringed. He wasn't sure where they were in the series, but could only imagine that they had come to ones where she was bound and gagged beneath him.
Beep, beep, beep…
Olivia's nails were digging into her palms. She noted that Cragen's brow seemed to furrow more with every passing second. Three quarters of the way through, he noticeably grimaced. Olivia was unable to read Huang, whose face remained characteristically impassive. She pitied the person that was foolish enough to challenge him to a hand of poker. She glanced at Elliot whose features were locked into a pained expression as he stared at the camera. She swallowed, a wave of regret washing over her as she remembered the words she had so selfishly hurled at him earlier.
As they reached the last few photographs, Cragen looked up again at Elliot who felt his gaze but did not meet it. Cragen wasn't sure why he felt a twinge of irritation at his senior detective. He knew that it was misplaced and rather had to do with his anger at having to put them in this situation to begin with. Elliot had only been doing what had been asked of him, and was obviously struggling in the aftermath. He switched his gaze to Olivia, whose eyes met his for the briefest of moments before falling to stare at her hands. He understood her reaction, feeling similarly uncomfortable at having had to view her in such a vulnerable position. He took in a breath and released it slowly through his nose, buying time as he tried to decide what to say to them.
Huang broke the silence. "Olivia, have you seen these?"
Olivia looked up at him and shook her head.
Huang extended the camera across the desk. Olivia leaned forward, reaching up to take it from him, the action fully exposing the bandage on her right wrist. Olivia quickly retracted her arm, purposefully not paying acknowledgement to the collective focus in the room. She looked down at the camera in her hands, not sure that she actually wanted to review the images.
"I think that we have the best chance of attracting Nikolai's attention if we post all of them, but that has to be a decision that you are comfortable with," Huang continued.
Elliot breathed a sigh of annoyance, irritated with the way Huang had phrased his sentence. Even if Olivia was uncomfortable with every single shot, he knew that she had already made up her mind to do everything possible to increase their chances of making the operation a successful one. With Huang's assessment, Olivia would never voice opposition if it meant that the exclusion of certain photos would detract from this objective.
Olivia forced herself to scroll through the photos, knowing that the three men were carefully examining her reactions. She did her best to maintain a neutral expression regardless of the feelings the images evoked. Despite her better judgment, she looked up at Elliot as she finished. The guilt and pain with which he regarded her threatened to crack through her resolve, and it was all that she could do to prevent herself from apologizing for her earlier behavior right then and there in front of everyone. She needed for him to know that she did not blame him for any of this, though, knowing Elliot, she doubted that anything she could say or do would be able to stop him from blaming himself.
She swallowed and handed the camera to Cragen, willing her voice to sound strong as she said, "We should do it."
Cragen cleared his throat, eager for the meeting to finish. "Okay," he said. "Olivia, feel free to take some time today. Elliot, I need you to spend time with Munch and Fin to familiarize yourself with what's been posted so far. And, uh, I'll let you handle this," he finished, handing him the camera.
Olivia stood, moving to the door before Elliot. The last thing she wanted was to be left in that office to be cornered by Huang. She returned to her desk, bracing herself as she saw him heading toward her out of the corner of her eye. Surprisingly, the anticipated confrontation did not happen, as he continued past her toward the elevators. She turned to watch him as walked away. As he reached the hallway, he pivoted toward her just long enough to offer her the slightest knowing smile before disappearing around the corner. It was enough to communicate that he was respecting her need for space for the moment, but also enough to convey that he was not going to allow her to avoid him indefinitely.
She turned back around, jumping slightly as she found Elliot standing a foot away.
"Sorry," he said, quickly backing up a few paces.
He had reacted as though he thought she was afraid of him. Olivia shook her head. "You just startled me."
"You going home?" he asked.
"Yeah, for a little while. I could use a shower."
Again, Elliot misinterpreted her. "Right, uh, of course," he stammered uncomfortably. He kicked himself for being so stupid. Of course she would want to shower after last night. She had consented to whatever she had to for the sake of the pictures, but that in no way meant that she had wanted it. It made sense that she would want to wash away the traces of his hands on her skin. He already felt like a perp, so it was only fitting that she felt like a victim.
Olivia tried to decipher the many emotions she saw passing across his features. Her eyes widened as she realized how he had heard her words. "No," she said, trying to explain, but he continued to look away from her. "El, stop," she said softly, reaching out to touch his arm so that he met her eyes again. "I just meant that I haven't showered in days," she explained. "I'm surprised you haven't said something yet," she added with a smirk.
He smiled sadly, her words doing nothing to make him feel better. "Yeah, well, I suppose you were getting a little ripe," he responded half-heartedly. "You want a ride?"
"No, that's okay. I think I could use some fresh air."
He nodded. "Okay, just give me a call if you need anything. I'll be, uh…" He gestured to Fin and Munch.
"Yeah," she murmured, shutting her eyes against the thought that it was only a matter of time before they saw the photos as well. She hurriedly pulled on her jacket, making sure she had her keys before quickly heading to the exit.
Elliot sighed and moved at a decidedly slower pace toward Fin and Munch. He hesitated a moment before depositing the camera on Munch's desk.
They both turned, looking uneasily from the camera to Elliot and back again.
"All I ask is that we don't talk about this. If not for my sake, for Liv's," Elliot said resignedly.
He looked up with a weary expression and, for once, the faces of the detectives looking back at him were as solemn as his own.
Olivia returned to the squad room a few hours later to find Elliot at his desk, bent over a stack of printed transcripts from the chat room. She looked over at Fin and Munch who regarded her somewhat awkwardly before turning back to focus on the site. She took her place across from Elliot. "I take it we're up and running," she said quietly.
He looked up from the papers. "Yeah," he sighed. He suddenly straightened. "Why?" he asked protectively, turning to look accusingly at Fin and Munch whose heads remained pointed in the opposite direction.
"They didn't say anything, El," she placated. "They didn't have to."
Elliot understood. They hadn't said a word to him either, but he had been well aware of the reproachful glances they had attempted to stifle as they uploaded the files. He nodded apologetically, drawing a hand over his eyes as he forced himself to return to his reading.
"Let me read some of those," Olivia said.
His head shot back up and he looked at her as if she had completely lost her mind. "No," he said firmly.
Her eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "I want to read them," she said evenly.
"There is absolutely nothing in this stack of filth that you need to read," he argued.
She leaned forward, lowering her voice so that only he would hear her. "Um, if my body is being posted on that damn site, I sure as hell have the right to read anything and everything that's attached to it," she hissed.
"Liv," he pleaded, his voice equally low. "Please don't do this to yourself."
She glared at him. "They're words, Elliot. Fucked up, despicable words, but they're words that I need to read." She paused, looking around to make sure that nobody was listening. "I need to be prepared for this, El," her voice wavered slightly, "just like you."
Olivia needed to get a sense of how Carl was being portrayed, because she knew it would play a big role not only in the way that Elliot would have to act, but also how she, as Tara, would have to react to him.
This was the only reason that Elliot gave in. It had nothing to do with the tremble in her voice, or the guilt he felt at the fact that his first impulse had been to reach across the desk and cup her cheek in his palm.
He sighed and handed her the thick stack of papers that he had already read.
"Thank you," she said, her tone a mixture of residual irritation and satisfaction.
They each bent over their respective documents, neither looking up for what seemed like hours. Elliot's stomach was churning at the thought of ever having to mistreat Olivia, let alone in the ways described in the chat room, while Olivia was struggling to ignore the fact that the depraved users were not only getting an eyeful of her, but were then associating her with the rest of the graphic references to Tara on the site.
"Guys!" Fin's voice called from across the room. "We got contact."
Elliot and Olivia looked at one another before hurrying to join him around Munch's computer.
"He just posted this link," Munch explained. "'Exclusive invite to my club. Tomorrow night, 9:00pm, corner of West 72nd St. and Amsterdam. My driver. Just you and your whore. Don't screw with me. I'll make it worth your while. N,'" he read aloud.
"We printing it?" Elliot asked.
"Already got it," Fin replied.
"Easy access to the West Side Highway," Elliot said.
"Both directions," Olivia added. "Doesn't really narrow it down."
"Could be headed to any of the tunnels, or the GW," Fin suggested.
Munch shook his head. "There's no guarantee it means anything. He could just as easily be taking them over to the east side into Queens. There's no point in guessing. You might as well throw a dart at the map."
"T.A.R.U. get those transmitters ready?" Elliot asked.
"I'll check with Cragen," Fin said, heading over to his office.
Elliot nodded.
Olivia walked away from the group back to her desk. Her stomach was in knots. Thus far they had been going through the motions, never knowing if it would be enough to grant them access to the club. Somehow that had made the idea of going undercover seem more hypothetical. But now it was no longer a question of if they made it to the club, but of what they would have to do when they got there.
Elliot noticed her shift in demeanor and returned to take his seat across from her. "You–" the question died on his lips. This morning she had gone ballistic when he asked her.
She sighed. "I'm fine, El," she said, underscoring the fact that the topic was closed for discussion by resuming her perusal of the transcripts.
"Okay," he responded warily, picking up the next page on his pile and starting up again as well.
Twenty minutes went by when Olivia abruptly stopped and looked up at him.
"Liv?"
She took a deep breath, already anticipating the argument to follow. "El, you're going to have to hit me."
Elliot dropped the page he was holding. "What?"
"I said that you're going to have to hit me – sometime between now and tomorrow night."
"What are you talking about?" he asked incredulously, his voice starting to rise.
Olivia picked up the page she had been reading and cleared her throat, "And I quote: 'She tried to get away and I punched her so hard that her head snapped back. She begged me to stop and I threw her down on the bed and–'"
"Liv, stop," he gritted.
"It's here as clear as day," she said determinedly.
"Well you can forget it, I'm not going to hit you," he said dismissively, acting as though he was going to resume his reading.
"Elliot," she said pointedly.
"I said no," he snapped.
Fin wandered over, wondering what was triggering their current back and forth. "Okay, what's up?" he asked looking between the two of them.
Olivia continued to glare in Elliot's direction but handed Fin the page she had been reading. "Paragraph two," she said icily. "I have been explaining to Elliot that he's going to have to hit me."
Fin's head remained bowed over the paper, but his eyes flew to look at Elliot whose own had narrowed into thin slits as he stared back at Olivia. "Uh huh," Fin said noncommittally.
"Olivia, we'll slap on some stage makeup, make it look like a bad bruise. I'm not going to fucking punch you," Elliot snarled.
"Which is a great idea," she said sarcastically, "since I'm sure when you're in the process of attacking me there is absolutely no chance of that getting smudged."
"This is fucking ridiculous," he muttered, shoving his chair back and stomping out of the room.
Olivia leaned forward and rested her forehead on the tips of her fingers. She knew it wasn't an easy request of him, but she also knew she was right about this one.
"Hey," Fin said reassuringly.
"It's too dangerous to run the risk of faking it," she sighed, raising her head and resting her forearms on her desk.
"I know," he nodded.
Olivia paused, looking up at Fin slowly, the unspoken request hanging silently in the air.
Fin released the breath he'd been holding and although he shook his head, his expression conveyed his reluctant acceptance. Stabler was going to kill him.
Fin stood facing Olivia, his left hand on her shoulder, hoping to brace her should she lose her balance. They had moved into an interrogation room for the sake of avoiding an audience – Elliot included.
"You ready Liv?" he asked.
Olivia took a deep breath. "Yeah," she replied. "Oh, and Fin?"
"Yeah?"
"Make the first swing count? I, um," she hesitated, "I don't want to prolong this more than I have to."
"Me neither," he responded, concern etched in his features.
Elliot rounded the corner and saw them through the glass. He approached the door quickly, storming in the room just in time to see Fin's fist collide with Olivia's cheek. Fin succeeded in preventing Olivia from falling into the table, but she still staggered back from the force of the impact.
"What in the hell do you think you are doing?" Elliot growled, yanking Fin away from her and shoving him hard up against the wall.
"I'm doing what you couldn't do, man!" Fin spat back. He knew that it killed Elliot to see Olivia hurting, as much as he knew that no amount of asking on her part would have been able to convince Elliot to be the one to inflict it.
Olivia's eyes stung as she blinked back reflexive tears, her cheek throbbing and hot to the touch. "El," she started, trying to regain her composure. Elliot maintained his hold on Fin, his jaw clenching and unclenching and his blue eyes piercing into Fin's brown ones.
"Olivia was right, Elliot," Fin continued, unfazed by Elliot's intimidation tactics. "It had to be real. It's too dangerous for both of your sakes to go into this thing if-"
"You don't, fucking, touch her," Elliot interrupted, emphasizing each word slowly and deliberately, daring Fin to say otherwise.
"Elliot," she tried again, her voice stronger this time.
Fin used his chest to shove Elliot off of him, staring him down as he made his way toward the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Liv, you okay?" he asked, his eyes scanning her face.
"Fine," she assured him.
He nodded before heading back to the squad room, pulling the door shut behind him.
Olivia stood watching Elliot's heaving back, waiting for the explosion. Finally he whirled around to face her.
"Great," he snorted derisively. "I'm glad I can always count on Fin to make sure my partner gets her face bashed in."
She knew that he was bringing Sealview back into this and it pissed her off. "Elliot, you're out of line."
"I'm out of line?" he yelled.
"Yes," she hissed, bringing the back of her hand up to hold it against her cheek, the throbbing intensifying with her anger. "Fin was doing what I asked him to do – what I asked you to do – because he knew it had to be done."
"According to whom? To you?" He stalked toward her, crowding her, but she stood her ground and raised her chin higher. "It's funny," he continued, "but I don't recall hearing Cragen ordering me to hit you."
"Once he'd read that, he would have made the order, and you know it," she challenged. "I'm not made of glass, Elliot. I do what I need to do to get the job done."
He glared at her. "And I don't."
She said nothing, and this only incensed him further.
"What the hell are you trying to prove?" he seethed, his face barely an inch away from hers. "You're so hell bent on punishing yourself lately."
Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
"How many blows were you going to take if I hadn't come through that door? Huh?" he goaded.
Olivia was shaking. "Fuck you," she fumed, shaking her head from side to side and backing up until the backs of her thighs met the table. "Where do you get off–" her voice was trembling.
"Is that what this is?" he demanded, closing the distance between them again so that her body was pinned between his and the table. "You're not doing a good enough job at beating yourself up, so you need one of us to do it for you?"
She squeezed her eyes shut, blinking back tears of rage and of pain. When she reopened them she twisted her head to the side, bending backward in an attempt to put some distance between them.
Then all of a sudden he was off of her and halfway across the room. "I'm not doing this anymore. I'm done."
He spoke with a finality that chilled her to the bone. She panicked at the thought that he would actually walk away, and the fear of what that might mean for her overrode any concern for preserving any remnants of her dignity. "Elliot!" she called as he reached the door, her voice so full of desperation and fear that it immobilized the both of them. She braced her hands on the table, her chest shuddering under the strain of trying to take in enough air.
Elliot remained frozen, his back toward her and his head turned slightly to the side.
When she spoke again her voice was shaky and small. She didn't care.
"Please don't make me do this with someone else," she pleaded, her eyes welling up with tears.
Elliot spun around to face her, the anguish in her eyes tearing him apart. He crossed the room in a few quick strides to stand behind her. "Liv," he said softly. "Liv, look at me." When she didn't respond, he reached out to touch her upper arm, gently coaxing her to turn toward him. She chewed on her lower lip, her eyes downcast. "Liv, I didn't mean," his voice cracked. "God, I would never…" He resisted the urge to pull her into an embrace, and instead brought his hands to rest on either side of her face, bending down a bit until she met his gaze. "I meant that I was done fighting with you. I would never make you… I would never do that to you," he clarified.
Relief washed over her.
"I just," he sighed, dropping his hands. "We've been fighting all day." He shook his head. "And this," he said, gesturing to her cheek with a grimace. "I wasn't at all prepared for this."
She nodded, feeling fatigued and lowering herself to perch on the edge of the table.
"Liv, just let me get something. I'll be right back," he promised.
"Okay," she said. She watched as he left, gingerly prodding her swollen cheek.
He returned a few minutes later with a can of Pepsi.
She cocked an eyebrow.
"Sorry, it's the best I could do," he shrugged, holding it lightly against her cheek.
She reached up to take it from him, and he let his hand fall away, moving to lean against the opposite wall.
They sat in silence for a while before Olivia spoke. "El, about what I said this morning… I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."
"I know," he said.
She shook her head. "It was uncalled for, and I just… I don't want you to think that I–"
"I don't," he said simply.
"Okay," she said, allowing the silence to return briefly before she looked up at him nervously and broke it once again. "Elliot, I'm going to say something you're not going to want to hear, but I need to say it."
"Okay," he responded warily.
"I know this is hard for you," she gestured to her cheek, "and despite what you might think, I went to Fin because I thought it would make it easier on you."
He opened his mouth to say something, but she held up her hand.
"Please just hear me out?" she implored.
He nodded.
"We've both read the transcripts, and we both know what gets this guy off."
Elliot swallowed.
"I just want you to know that I'm expecting that at some point tomorrow night, you will have to hit me – probably more than once."
"Liv–"
She shook her head, "If you didn't, it would probably only make him suspicious, and I fully intend on us both getting out of there in one piece."
He sighed.
"I'm just saying it now," she placated, "because if I don't, it would kill me if you thought that I didn't understand what you were doing."
He looked at her with a mixture of sadness and admiration. "Okay," he said quietly.
Olivia wasn't quite sure what to make of his acquiescence, but was relieved that he had let her finish. She didn't think she had any energy left to argue with him.
Elliot waited a moment before saying somewhat awkwardly, "We, uh, never really talked more about the safe word thing."
Olivia's face flushed slightly, and she was more grateful than ever for the cold soda can pressed against her cheek. "Right," she murmured. As he made no move to speak, she continued. "I, um, I did think about it a little bit, and was wondering about something like, 'release me'?" she suggested. "I figure I'm going to have to say my fair share of 'no,' 'stop,' and 'let me go,'" she reasoned aloud.
Elliot cringed at the laundry list of phrases he would have to hear from her, but understood her point. "Yeah, that makes sense," he nodded.
"I know I won't say that accidentally, and I don't think that it is too far out there that it would raise a red flag."
"Okay," he said. "'Release me' it is." His voice trailed off as he looked at her with regret. He prayed that he wouldn't be responsible for doing something that would force her to utter those words.
She dropped her gaze, lowering the Pepsi to her lap, feeling self-conscious and wondering about its effectiveness anyway.
"You should put some actual ice on that," Elliot said pushing off of the wall to stand. "Come on, I'll drive you home."
She looked at him quizzically.
"There's nothing else you can do today anyway and Cragen already gave you the time."
She didn't know what she would do sitting at home, but also wasn't exactly eager to field stares from coworkers for the rest of the day given her current appearance.
"Okay," she agreed. "Thanks."
She hopped off the table and walked with him to the door. He held it open for her and she was halfway through before she stopped and turned to face him. "How bad is it?" she asked, crinkling her nose. If she was walking into a room full of people, she wanted to be prepared.
"Not great," he admitted.
She did her best to use her hair to cover as much of the left side of her face as possible. "Maybe you should go first," she said.
The situation wasn't exactly funny, but he couldn't help but smile. "Fair enough." He sidestepped through the gap left between her and the doorframe, the movement causing his chest to brush against hers as he slipped by.
Olivia's eyes drifted closed at the contact, caught off guard by her body's response. While she had always been aware of the fleeting touches between them, she had never felt so completely powerless to control her own reaction. It was as though a switch had been flipped the moment his hand had branded her skin, leaving her prone to aftershocks as her body yearned for more. She bit her lip, willing herself to ignore the heat spreading through her belly.
"Liv?" he asked, doubling back to check on her when he realized she hadn't followed.
Her eyes snapped open. "Sorry," she replied in embarrassment, quickly thinking up a feasible sounding excuse. "I've just had a headache all day, so this didn't exactly help things."
His brow furrowed in concern. "Are you dizzy?"
She almost laughed. "Yes, but not for the reasons you're thinking," she thought. "No," she said. "No concussion."
He nodded; worry still clouding his features.
They made their way to the squad room, Olivia doing her best to follow closely at his heels so that she would attract the least amount of attention possible.
"I have to go grab my jacket," he said over his shoulder as they entered the room.
"Okay," she said, taking a seat at her desk and bringing up her left hand to shield her face.
Fin watched as Elliot disappeared toward the locker room and came to stand at her side.
"Hey," he said. "You sure you're okay?"
She nodded and gave him a lopsided smile. "Yeah, I'm good. From what I hear, that right hook of yours did the trick." Feeling sufficiently blocked by his body, she lifted her hair back.
Fin grimaced. "Yeah, it did."
She let her hair fall, her expression turning serious once more. "I'm sorry about El," she murmured.
"Nah," he shook his head. "I saw that coming a mile away." He punctuated his statement with a tap on her desk, returning to his own as he saw Elliot reenter the room.
"Ready?" Elliot asked her.
"Yeah."
The drive back to her apartment was considerably more relaxing than their morning commute, the tension having ebbed somewhat in the aftermath of their explosion in the interrogation room. Elliot insisted upon walking her upstairs, checking to make sure that she had an ample supply of ice and insisting that she let him inspect her pupils before he agreed to leave her alone.
Regardless, Olivia had to practically shove him out of her apartment, thrusting a spare key in his hand so that he wouldn't break down her door if she was napping and failed to answer her phone.
Once he had gone, she plopped down on the couch with a bag of ice, idly flipping through the selection of crappy daytime television programming before settling on some soap opera. She had no clue what was going on, but it was more for background noise than for anything else. She turned so that she was curled up on her side, eventually succeeding in finding a position that would allow the ice to rest on top of her cheek without her having to physically hold it in place. Her eyes felt heavy and she allowed them to close, succumbing to sleep before she even made it to the first commercial break.
Olivia awoke to a soft tapping at her door. Initially disoriented, she put the television on mute, wondering why it was so dark in her apartment. As she sat up, the bag of ice she had balanced on her cheek rolled down her body in a sloshy, watery mess, the now melted contents seeping out of the knotted plastic and dribbling down her shirt. She cursed at it, standing up and clumsily making her way into the kitchen to deposit it in the sink. The tapping noise sounded again and she flipped on the light, gazing out of the peephole to find Elliot pacing on the other side. She smoothed her hands over her hair and opened the door.
"I woke you," he said.
"It's okay," she shook her head. "I pretty much crashed as soon as you left."
"I won't keep you," he said nonchalantly. "I just stopped by to check in and to let you know that I got the transmitters from T.A.R.U."
She looked at him skeptically. "Oh? And you happened to find a pizza and a six pack along the way?" she asked with thinly veiled amusement.
"Oh, um, I thought you might be hungry and I figured I should replenish your supply," he stammered.
She smiled. "Come in, El," she said opening the door fully.
He nodded in acknowledgement and walked past her into the living room as she shut the door behind him. He put the pizza on the coffee table and brought the beer to the fridge, taking a couple of bottles out and using the countertop and a swift downward motion of his palm to remove the caps. He turned to face her, extending one of the beverages toward her, a slight smile on his lips.
A tingle ran down Olivia's spine, and she wondered when it had happened that she had suddenly turned into a love-struck teenager. If she didn't know him better, she would have sworn that the look was borderline flirtatious. But she did know him, she reasoned, and he was clearly back with her in her apartment to make sure that his partner was okay – because taking care of people was what Elliot Stabler did.
She took the bottle from him as he took a swig from his own.
"How's it feeling?" he asked, gesturing to her bruise.
"Better," she said, her hand darting up self-consciously to touch it.
"Swelling's gone down," he said, his eyes scanning her face.
"Oh, um, good," she responded, hastily turning away to tear off a couple of paper towels from the roll.
Elliot followed her lead, removing the plates they had used the night before from the drying rack and walking behind her into the living room.
Olivia sat cross-legged on the couch, while Elliot decided to sit on the floor. They ate in silence, neither of them apparently aware of the fact that the television remained muted. From Olivia's vantage point she was able to study him without his noticing, and she mused that she could get used to a nightly ritual that involved having him show up at her door with food in tow. She had never been in a position to share her space with someone else for a prolonged period of time, but as she watched him take another bite of his pizza, his legs stretched out on her rug, she was struck by the thought that things were as they should be. He just seemed to fit.
Before long, they had devoured nearly the entire pizza, and they were each nursing their second beer. Whether it was the lull that came about from being stuffed with the greasy food, or the effects of the alcohol loosening her tongue, she heard herself voice the question she had been asking herself since he showed up at her door.
"El, why did you come over tonight?" She spoke softly, grateful that his back was turned toward her.
He was quiet for a moment, still facing forward. "I don't know," he replied. "I needed to see you. I honestly don't know if it was more for you or for me."
She wasn't sure how to take that, so she said nothing.
Eventually he spoke again, shifting so that he could see her face. "Liv, I'd be lying if I told you that I'm not scared shitless about tomorrow night."
"I know," she murmured.
"I just," he hesitated. "I know what you told Huang, about what's at stake… how far to take this… But I guess what I'm asking is what exactly that means."
The question hung in the air, their eyes locked on one another. When Olivia finally spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper.
"I don't think we'll know until we get there."
He held her gaze, knowing that however much he hoped to be able to place the control in her hands, ultimately it would be up to him to make those decisions for the both of them. His mouth felt dry and he took a couple more swallows of his beer. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the GPS transmitters. "Our lifelines," he explained, offering them to her with an upturned palm.
She scooted forward on the couch, taking one of them from him and not feeling at all reassured by the fact that the availability of their backup solely depended upon the tiny pieces of circuitry in their hands.
"I can keep them here if you like," she said. "The meeting place is only a few blocks away, so I guess it would make sense to leave from here."
Elliot nodded. "Okay."
Silence fell around them once more.
"I'll, uh, I'll let you get some rest," he said.
Neither of them wanted for him to leave, but Elliot didn't want to overstay his welcome or make it appear as though he didn't think she could take care of herself, and Olivia didn't want to come across as needy.
"Okay," she said, moving to stand.
As they reached the door, he looked as if he wanted to say something, but thought better of it and settled on, "Good night."
"Night," she replied.
He was into the hallway before she softly called after him.
"Elliot?"
"Yeah?"
"I'll be okay." She saw the question in his eyes and continued. "Whatever happens tomorrow – whatever you need to do, I'll be okay."
Elliot arrived at Olivia's apartment early. He had been anxious enough thinking about the undercover op in the days before hand, but now that the night had finally arrived the adrenaline pumping through his veins had helped him to make the trip in half the time it normally would have taken to get from his place to hers. Elliot turned off the engine and took a deep breath, cranking his neck to try to release some of the tension. He was supposed to be the one in control after all. Both of their lives depended upon his ability to exude confidence, dominance, and power. If he couldn't even fool himself, he sure as hell wouldn't be able to fool anybody else. Olivia had said in no uncertain terms that she was willing to make any sacrifices necessary for the chance to be able to save that little girl, and if Olivia was putting so much trust in his hands Elliot was damned if he was going to let his nerves get the better of him.
If he was being honest with himself, part of what terrified him the most was the idea that the carefully constructed boundaries that they had both worked so hard at maintaining over the years were about to come crashing down for the sake of their cover. Granted this was in the guise of Carl and Tara, not Elliot and Olivia, but he had a feeling that however tonight played out, things would be irrevocably changed between them.
Throughout their partnership they had always trusted each other with their lives, and regardless of the rough patches and complexity of their relationship, the one unspoken understanding had always been the need to keep some physical distance between one another. They knew each other better than anyone else did in so many ways, which was due in great part to the nature of the job. Their experiences and their desire to protect others from the images that haunted them on a daily basis had naturally brought about an understanding of the other that was unparalleled in outside relationships – not with Kathy, and not with anyone with whom Olivia had gotten involved. The Gitano case had brought this closeness to the forefront, and after the dust had settled they had retreated even further into the safety net created by pushing the other away as a means to protect their partnership.
They had never been put in a position that demanded physical closeness, let alone one that required them to adopt the roles of perpetrator and victim. Elliot shuddered at the thought, especially given that the timing of this assignment came so close on the heels of the night that Olivia had nearly become a real-life victim at the hands of Harris. Elliot's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel remembering how helpless he felt at being powerless to protect her from outside the facility's walls.
He took the steps two at a time and knocked on the door. Not getting any response he used his key and entered the apartment to hear Olivia using the hairdryer in the bathroom. Elliot shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair before taking a seat on the couch, drumming his fingers on his knee. Elliot felt like pacing, but figured that Olivia was most likely as on edge as he was, and that it wouldn't help her any to come out and find him wearing a rut into her rug. When the hairdryer shut off Elliot called out, "Liv?"
"El?"
"Yeah, I let myself in. I just didn't want to startle you in case you didn't hear me over the dryer."
"No problem, I'll be out in a minute. Feel free to help yourself to anything."
Elliot's face blanched at the first thought that had come to mind when she said "anything" and quickly stood to walk to the kitchen. Peering in the refrigerator his instinct was to grab a beer but thought better of it and pulled out a bottle of water instead. He could hold his alcohol with the best of them, but figured that he would have to order some sort of stiff drink at the club to fit the profile and decided that he wanted that to be the first drink of the night. They were going into this thing unarmed, and he wanted to make sure he was alert and ready for whatever situation they might be thrown into.
Olivia stood staring at herself in the mirror for the umpteenth time, trying to calm her heart that was pounding in her chest. Olivia was wearing a little black dress that left little to the imagination – something that she'd imagine Carl would have bought for Tara to show off his possession to the world. She self-consciously tugged at the hem, willing it to grow an inch or two, which was immediately undone by her efforts to pull up the neckline in attempts to cover up more of her chest. She cursed at the thing and decided with a frustrated sigh that it was better to show off a little more leg than the alternative. She slipped into stiletto heels that she had chosen as much for a potential weapon than anything else, since that would be all that she would have. She inspected the bruise on her cheek, the purple standing out against her otherwise even skin tone. She had put on enough makeup to make it look as though she was trying to conceal it, even though the whole idea was for it to be noticed. She was doing her best to remain focused on the little girl, reminding herself that nothing that happened tonight could possibly compare to what this child had been going through for God knows how long. "You can do this," she whispered to her reflection, and with a nod, turned and exited the bathroom.
Olivia found Elliot in her kitchen, his back to her as he sipped on a bottle of water. If she had thought that her nerves would calm at his presence, she was most definitely mistaken. Her heart rate quickened even more, if this was humanly possible. He turned and her breath caught at his appearance. He was wearing a black silk button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up enough to reveal his muscular forearms, and a pair of faded blue jeans that clung to him in all the right places. "Hey," she managed.
While Olivia was struggling to find her voice, Elliot had been attempting to remember how to swallow the mouthful of water he had taken before he had turned in her direction. Thankfully he managed to do this without choking and attempted a nonchalant clearing of his throat before responding, "Hey." He did his best to keep his eyes on her face while he added, "You look, um, you look…."
She saved him with a, "You're not so bad yourself," before fidgeting a bit with the bracelet on her arm.
"Do you want some water?" he asked her. "We still have some time," he added gesturing to the clock behind her. 8:40pm. Twenty minutes to go.
"No thanks. I'm fine," she responded.
I'm fine. Elliot's stomach churned at the words. He had been hearing them a lot from her lately, as if by repeating them she was convincing herself of this as much as she was saying them for his benefit. His gaze drifted to the bruise on her cheek and Olivia noticed and quickly turned to walk into the living room. Elliot couldn't help but think of the other bruise that had marked the same side, though a bit lower, several months before. Elliot resisted the urge to catch her wrist before she could walk away, and instead opted to follow her to the other room. Olivia carefully lowered herself on the couch, doing her best to maneuver in a way that would cause her hemline to rise up the least possible amount. As an after thought she pulled one of the throw pillows onto her lap, relaxing a bit at being able to have a few more minutes' worth of coverage. It wasn't that she was insecure about her body, but there was something about being put on display in this way that she had never been truly comfortable with. Especially having spent so many years trying to prove herself in the boys' club of the NYPD. Especially since being around Elliot somehow always managed to make her feel more vulnerable since he could read her so well, and this time she wasn't able to hide behind the no nonsense attire that helped to bolster her confidence at the precinct.
Elliot played with the cap on his water bottle and waited until she looked comfortable before taking a seat at the opposite end of the couch. Olivia traced the embroidery on the pillow with her index finger, finding it difficult to look in his direction. Elliot knew that she was doing her best to appear as though she was just killing time, but knew that she was as unsettled as he was. "Liv," he began carefully, "Do you still want to go through with this?"
Olivia was touched by the gesture. He knew as well as she did that it would be damn near impossible to back out at this point, with Cragen ready to send in the cavalry once they activated the second transmitter. Still, Elliot was giving her an out, and was prepared to back her up and weather the fallout alongside her. "Yeah," she replied giving him a small smile. "I think we owe it to this little girl to give it our best shot."
Elliot nodded. He hadn't expected any other answer from her, but still felt better having asked.
Olivia reached into a small bowl on the coffee table. She picked up the transmitters and gestured to her outfit. "I can't seem to figure out where to put these," she joked trying to lighten the mood. She handed them to Elliot who placed one in each pocket, smoothing his hands over them to test for the possibility of them being discovered if he were frisked. Elliot seemed satisfied and glanced at the clock again. 8:48pm. Olivia caught his eye and nodded. They stood and slowly walked toward the door. Elliot reached for Olivia's black leather jacket and held it open for her. Olivia slid her arms into the sleeves making a mental note that chivalry was not dead, although she also realized that on any other night he probably would have tossed it to her as they both headed to a crime scene. She knew that Elliot was doing what he could now to make up for the fact that as Carl he would have to mistreat her for the rest of the evening.
Elliot put on his own jacket, and had one hand on the doorknob before he stopped abruptly and turned to face her. Olivia was momentarily caught off guard and her momentum caused her to wind up standing closer to him than normal. She breathed in his scent before stepping back with a questioning look in her eyes.
"I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to know that you can feel free to say no," he began.
Olivia felt her heartbeat quicken, though she wasn't quite sure why she was suddenly so nervous. "What, El?" she asked in a small voice.
Elliot held her gaze for a long moment before asking, "Would it be alright if I kissed you?"
Olivia froze. "K-kissed me?" she stammered. Her wide eyes were locked on Elliot who remained silent, and she managed to add, "You mean, n-now?"
Elliot nodded breaking their eye contact to look at Olivia's lips before meeting her gaze again. "I know that tonight will be difficult for both of us," he paused, "and I don't even want to think about what I might have to say or do," his voice cracked. "I know that I shouldn't even be asking you this, but I keep thinking that if anything were to happen," he hesitated, "I don't want you to think that the person I have to be tonight, is anything like what I would be like if…" he trailed off. "I mean, I would never…" he looked down, struggling to find the words.
Olivia was afraid to move or breathe in case she would cause whatever was happening in front of her right now to stop.
Elliot eventually stopped looking for the right words, figuring Olivia had already been able to understand what he was trying to convey. Instead he looked up at her once again and said simply, "Can I kiss you?"
Olivia felt light-headed, and was almost positive she was dreaming this whole thing. She wasn't sure if she would have any voice if she attempted to speak, but she heard herself whisper, "Yes."
Elliot slowly raised his right hand, trailing his fingertips gently over her bruised cheekbone before traveling to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. His hand continued its path as he raked his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head and slowly coming to rest upon the nape of her neck while he caressed her ear with his thumb. Olivia shivered and leaned into his touch, mesmerized by the deepening blue of his eyes. Elliot brought his left hand underneath her jacket to rest lightly upon her waist while he took a step forward to close the distance between them. Olivia's eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed lightly over her cheek, his breath hot on her skin. Elliot pulled back slightly to look at her before ever so gently brushing his lips against hers. Olivia made a small sound, and Elliot pulled her close, feeling her tremble against him. Elliot captured her lips with his own, darting his tongue out to taste her. Olivia responded by wrapping her arms around him, parting her lips further to allow him to have greater access. Elliot took the invitation, deepening the kiss and caressing her tongue with his. When they finally broke apart Elliot rested his forehead against hers and brought both hands up to frame her face. He pulled back to look her in her eyes, the corners of his mouth curling up into a small smile. He leaned forward again to place a soft kiss on her forehead, and murmured, "Thank you."
Olivia did not have time to respond, as they had less than ten minutes left to reach the meeting point. Elliot shortened his stride to match hers, hindered by her choice of footwear, though they still arrived at the corner with time to spare. The fall air was chilly and Olivia silently cursed her attire, each gust of wind biting at her bare legs. Olivia had never felt as unprepared to go into an undercover op as she did tonight. Her head was still spinning and she was struggling unsuccessfully to think about anything other than the way it felt to have Elliot pressed against her. Elliot had been having a similar struggle, although his anxiety about the role he had to play was beginning to take over more with every passing minute. Olivia noticed his tension in the way his eyes scanned the dark street, and the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot. She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest hoping that she would become numb soon. Elliot approached her in two quick strides so that he was standing beside her. He hooked his right arm around her neck figuring that the gesture would look possessive, while also affording her some warmth. "Thanks," Olivia said under her breath.
He turned his head so that he spoke into her ear. "Liv, remember, just say the words at any time and we stop. No matter what."
"Yeah," she whispered, noting at the same time he did the black Lincoln town car with tinted windows that was slowly approaching.
Elliot narrowed his eyes and set his jaw, putting more weight into the arm around Olivia's neck causing her to bend toward him.
Showtime.