A/N: This is so haaaarrrrrd!

As he sat there, dry, tired eyes staring straight ahead, chin balanced heavily in his hands, elbows digging into his knees, Elliot was almost certain that he'd have permanent back pain from the position in which he currently resided. The hard, sterile hospital bedside chair was about two sizes too small, and the arms were constructed in such a way that whenever he tried to lean against them and rest, they dug painfully into his side.

But he wasn't leaving Olivia. That was absolutely out of the question.

The nurse had come in a few minutes after he'd pushed the button, followed by the doctor, in quick pursuit to his 'emergency call'. The pair had buzzed around Olivia's drowsy form, checking her concussion, inspecting and gently prodding at her cracked ribs. Submerged in the realms of unconsciousness, Olivia hadn't been able to make any protestations to the sleep medicine the nurse injected into her IV. Soon enough, Olivia's furrowed-even-in-sleep brow had relaxed into a serene expression. The doctor had informed him that the pain was expected, that everything seemed normal, okay. And Elliot wanted to punch the bastard. Things were sure as hell were not okay.

Elliot was so tired. So tired. But he refused to sleep. Don't fall asleep, don't fall asleep, don't fall… Part of it was that he wanted to be awake for Olivia in case she roused from her slumber. He wanted to be the first one to jump up to her aid and wrap her in a tight embrace, if she needed it. If she would let him.

The other part, however, was for a completely different reason. He felt guilty thinking about it, in the light of recent events. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Olivia, drunk and devastatingly beautiful, clinging to him with fervour. When he succumbed to the darkness of closed eyelids, he was met with the whispered remembrance of her lips, feather light against his neck, of her words, slurred and passionate.

"Come home with me…take me to bed…"

Elliot groaned inwardly. At that point, he was about ready to do anything he could to get the tantalizing images out of his mind. He had enjoyed it, that was certain, but thinking about it now filled him with a crimson shame so intense that his stomach became nauseous. Guilt ridden and horrified, Elliot was left with nothing to do but wait for her to wake up.

He saw himself, at the moment, as the biggest, stupidest, most incompetent, unintelligent partner in the whole of the United States. All he would have had to do was grab her arm, talk to her clearly, and walk her home. She had been, by far, the drunker of the pair, and in the heat of the moment, in the face of everything she'd relieved to him in her state of intoxication, he'd bolted. Out of nothing but pure, unadulterated fear. Fear. Fear of what had happened, fear of what hadn't happened yet.

Coward. You stupid, stupid coward.

He wouldn't even have needed to walk her in; helping her to her door would have been sufficient enough. Instead, he fled because he was scared. And he'd left her there, confused and sad and rejected and drunk, to fend off New York City's worst on her own.

Another part of his brain, a tiny, tiny part to which he rarely paid attention, told him that if he had, indeed, walked her home that night, his marriage, his career, and his reputation as a cop would have been severely damaged. That part of him told him that if he'd walked her home, there was no way in hell he'd have returned to his own apartment that night. Not the way Olivia had leant against him. Not the way her voice, sexy and low, was washing over his skin. Not when her scent was just as intoxicating as the drinks. Not when her lips were…not when her hips swayed so enticingly…not when he'd been lying to himself for years about how he felt, denying his love for so long had created so many pent-up emotions…

And then his mind was overtaken by horrible images, terrible, sick pictures of Olivia, lying in the alley right outside her building, broken and bleeding, crying…Elliot's heart sped as he was bathed anew in all those horrible things that you should never, ever have to see about the one you love…about anyone, for that matter. Despite the fact that he saw things like that every day on the job, something about the way Olivia's eyes reflected pure terror and pain had made him want to vomit everything he'd ever eaten. And then, there was the fact that it was Olivia, his partner, his other half, his best friend in the entire world that was lying there, withered and exhausted and violated. Violated. Olivia. Raped. Beaten. Left to die. He resisted the urge to sob.

"No…n…"

Something hard jerked underneath Elliot's head. His head sprung up too quickly, and he closed his eyes against the harsh spinning. He realized, regretfully, that surrounded by his thoughts, he'd succumbed to his fatigue. His head had been resting gently on Olivia's knee. He idly wondered how he'd ever gotten comfortable…half on the hard chair, half lying on the bed, half leaning on the floor. He was quickly set back on track as he noticed the room had become relatively dark. He held his breath, waiting to find out what it was that had woken him.

The silence had been tense and his heart was pounding painfully in his chest. Then, he heard it.

"P – please…n…no…"

Olivia.

Wiping a hand harshly over his face, he dragged his chair forward and sat close to her. He took one of her hands in his own sweaty palm, and brushed the other across her forehead.

"Liv?"

Although she thrashed slightly, no other sound came from her mouth. Apart from her laboured breathing, she was silent.

"Olivia?"

"Unnhh…" Her words were slurred, hazy in her sleep. She tossed her head from side to side.

"Shhhh, Liv, it's okay."

"Elliot…Elliot…h-help…come…please come back…"

Although her words were very slurred with her unconsciousness, he made out her phrase just fine. It was a splash of cold water down his back, and again the guilt overwhelmed him, almost drowning him. And then he kicked himself for making this about himself again.

"Liv, Liv, I'm here. I'm right here, honey. You're fine, wake up, you're okay now…" He brushed at the damp hair on her forehead, and lightly thumbed the soft skin of her hand. "Olivia, open your eyes. It's over, it's over now."

Elliot continued soothing her, talking to her in calming words, urging her to wake up.

After a few more moments of heavy panting, her breathing slowed and became more normal. She stopped thrashing her head, and with a soft sound from deep in her throat, she drifted once more into a hazy sleep.

Later, as he watched her sleep in the moonlight, Elliot's eyes were flooded with the inevitable tears. His shoulders shook from the force of the sobs he was desperately trying to reign in. The salty liquid rolled in graceful torrents down his cheeks, and when gravity won the battle, they fell wetly, and landed on Olivia's soft fingertips.

A/N: Okay, okay. I know that was insanely boring. BUT, I'm already finished with the next chapter, which will be considerably more 'exciting' and definitely longer. I just really suck at 'filler' chapters. I didn't want it to get too long, so instead of making one hugely long one; I broke it into two chapters. However, I'm still pretty nervous about this whole story, so if you could please, please let me know your thoughts, it would be appreciated more than you could ever know. Hugs!