Chapter 10 - Dynamics

Benson Residence

Tuesday, January 22, 5:30 p.m.

Twenty minutes...maybe thirty. She had time to take a quick shower, blow dry her hair, put on makeup and clean clothes. Being called out on a case so often during the middle of the night made it necessary to be able to do all of this quickly and she had it down to ten minutes. As soon as she hung up from talking to Elliot she ran to the bathroom and jumped in the shower. Why was she even worried about showering? Or make up? Or what she was wearing? It was just Elliot. Just Elliot. Telling herself it was because she had been lying in a hospital bed for the last two and half days, sick, in her pajamas with no make up, made her feel a little better about her apprehension. She just wanted to look her best for a change. That's all. Yea, right. That's all.

When she got out of the shower, she went to her closet looking for something to wear. She changed clothes at least five times and chided herself for being so concerned with her appearance. She really was not that vain. So, she ended up wearing a pair snug fitting dark blue jeans and a gray NYPD t-shirt that was too big for her. She dried her hair, put on gold hoop earrings and just a touch of make up. As a last minute thought, she sprayed on just a hint of cologne. Twelve minutes. Not bad.

She was getting hungry. That was a good sign because she had not had much of an appetite in the last several weeks. She decided to call and order Chinese from My-Lings and order enough for both herself and Elliot. Chinese was their favorite food and My-Lings Wok their favorite Chinese restaurant. Looking around her apartment, she saw a few things she could pick up, straighten. She had already sort of clean it up when she got home earlier today. She lit a few candles just so there would be a nice fragrance in the air.

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Driving to her place, the queasy feeling in Elliot's stomach got stronger with each passing mile. The perspiration from his hands made the steering wheel slippery and he kept wiping them up and down on his thighs in a futile attempt to dry them. His heart was racing to the point that he felt lightheaded. He was just going to see Liv, check on her and make sure she was doing okay. It was just Liv. She had been his partner and best friend for nearly nine years. It was not out of line to check on her well being, especially after all she had been through lately. So, why was he acting like this? Why was he so apprehensive about seeing her? Pulling up across from her building he spotted the detail car and the two cops inside. He did not recognize the one he could see on the driver's side. He pushed the button on the outside pad for Liv's apartment and wiped his hands on his pants again.

"Yes?" Liv's voice sounded stronger than it had in the last few days, but slightly out of breath.

"It's me." He heard the click signaling entry had been approved. His heart beat harder and faster.

Why was she so nervous? Her hands were sweaty, her knees felt weak and her stomach was in knots. What in the world was going on with her? This was Elliot. Her partner. Her best friend. A man she knew as well, if not better, than herself. So, why was she so fraught with anxiety? The minutes dragged by. It seemed each time she looked at the clock, only another minute or two had gone by and she could not quit looking at the clock. Her heart skipped several beats and began to beat so hard, she nearly passed out when the buzzer to downstairs finally sounded. It happened again when she heard the knock at her door.

Benson Residence

Tuesday, January 22, 6:02 p.m.

She looked through the peep hole and saw Elliot standing there. He had on his black woolen overcoat a dark brown suit visible beneath it. His dress shirt was a checkered medium green and his tie a solid green a couple of shades darker than his shirt. The tie was loosened and the top two buttons on his shirt undone. He looked good. She unlocked the door and opened it. He smiled at her as she swung the door wide for him to step inside.

"Hey, Liv. How are you feeling?" He asked as he looked her over.

She was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt that was huge on her. She looked refreshed. She had on some make up and her natural coloring was once again in place. She looked amazingly healthy for all she had just been through. Actually, he thought she just simply looked amazing. She had the ability to make even in jeans and t-shirts look classy. She held the door open for him.

"Hey. Pretty good. In fact better than I have in weeks." She smiled at him, closed and locked the door and leaned against it.

He nodded at her. "I am so glad to hear that."

"So...I know you didn't tell Kathy you were coming over here..." She cocked her left eyebrow at him. "...did you?"

He laughed. "Yea, right. I've been spending a lot of time at work on this case...she won't think a thing about me being late or not coming home."

He removed his over coat and turned to hang it on one of the three hooks behind her door. Then he removed his tie and stuffed in the pocket of his suit coat and removed that as well. He just stood there for a minute, looking around the apartment and then at her. "So...uh...what did the doc tell you?"

"I have to go in every two days for them to check my kidneys and I have to monitor my...uh...well, you know. And I have to give myself those shots every four hours, but that is just through tomorrow." She started walking toward the living room and motioned for him to follow.

When she walked past him, he noticed the back of her t-shirt. He laughed. "What does Pierce think about you wearing my clothes?"

She turned to look at him, a puzzled expression on her face. "What do you mean?"

"You're wearing my t-shirt...it has my name across the back." He pointed out. No wonder it was so big on her. Cute, but big.

She pulled at the right shoulder enough that she could see 'LER' emblazoned on the back in dark blue letters. "Oh...I guess you must have left it here when we went running or something...I didn't notice it was yours when I put it on." The warm rush of heat on her face, let her know she was blushing. She smiled at him.

"Or you stole it from my locker." He smiled back. For some crazy reason, he liked her wearing his shirt. "I think you look better in it than me. So, what would he say if he saw you wearing it?" He pressed for an answer, as he rolled the sleeves up on his shirt.

"Mmmm...he would probably not like it..." She raised her eyebrows at him. "But, I have never worn it around him and now I know to be careful."

She sat down on the far corner of the couch and pulled her legs up under her. He followed her, laying his suit jacket across the back of the couch. He sat in the other corner, stretching his legs out in front of him, his left arm resting on the arm of the couch and his right across the back. They sat in awkward silence for several minutes. He had not told her about Bert's and why they were on a stake-out, only that it may be related to her case. He decided now was a good as any time to began filling her in on the Michael/Mitchell situation. When he finished, he sat there for a moment watching her face as she processed all the information.

"Do you remember him?" He showed her the photographs. "From Bert's? What about at the Stanfords'?"

Taking the pictures, her eyes narrowed as she scanned them, eyebrows knit together. "Yes. That is the guy that waited on me Saturday. I don't really remember him before that...he may have been there, but I talked to him that day. This is him. But, he did not have a beard. And, no, I don't remember him at all from the Stanfords...I was too...uh...angry."

Elliot smiled, remembering she was so angry about him pulling rank on her. "When we catch him, I want you to be there when we question him." He told her.

"Oh, I'll be there. I'm coming in tomorrow. Cragen already knows and he's agreed to let me in on the investigation, as long as I am not the lead detective." Her determination sounded in her voice.

"Think you're up for it?" Elliot was concerned she was trying to jump back in too soon.

"Got the doc's permission, Cragen's permission. Didn't realize I needed yours." She shot him a warning look.

"Hey..." He held up his hands in surrender. "Fine by me."

She looked back at the pictures. "Do you really think it was him and not Marty? He seems so normal and he's so young...and he was so friendly..."

"Trust me, Liv. If he did this, and he is sure looking good for it, he is one twisted psycho." He took the pictures back and put them in his inside jacket pocket. "We're gonna find who did this to you, Olivia!"

The buzzing of the doorbell caught them both off guard. Elliot immediately went on the defense, figuring it was Pierce. Olivia jumped. But then ran to the kitchen counter and picked up some money lying there.

"Hope you're hungry. I ordered Chinese." She grinned at him as she went to the door and opened it to a bag laden Asian boy. She gave him the money plus a tip and took all the bags.

"I'm starving! Please say it is from My-Lings and please say I can eat it with a fork..." Elliot smiled and they both laughed at the inside joke.

He came over and took all but one of the bags from her and took them to the kitchen. "Broccoli beef? Sesame chicken? Mmmm...smells so good. Hear that rumbling? It's not thunder. I missed lunch with all the mess at Bert's. There better be lots of egg rolls! This is great, Liv. "

He got two plates down and opened several cartons. She got a couple of serving spoons and put them in the cartons. As she unwrapped the two pairs of chopsticks and laid them on napkins at the small dining table, Elliot frowned.

"Hey, I thought I get to use a fork tonight?" He pointed toward the chopsticks, as he ate half of an egg roll in one bite..

"I never agreed to that. You know the rule...you have to at least try to eat with the chopsticks." She winked at him.

He groaned as he brought the plates to the table. "What do you have to drink?"

"Probably not much..." She told him.

He opened the refrigerator. "Nothing but bottled water?" He looked in the bottom drawers. In fact, the only other things in the frig were a bottle of mustard, a molded block of cheese and half a jar of pickles. "Liv...you really need to go grocery shopping." He brought two bottles of water to the table, twisted the caps loose on both, setting one before each plate.

They sat across from one another, eating. Elliot had tried the chopsticks for about five minutes without much success, as usual. "Liv, I am starving...you gotta let me have a fork." He begged, giving her his best little boy look with sad blue eyes.

She laughed at him. "Look...this is how to hold them..." She showed him again for the five hundredth time.

He tried, really he did. He just could not get it. "I think I am losing weight...I really need to eat..."

Liv finally got up, went to the drawer by the sink and came back with a fork. "There you go, you big baby. But, we are going to try this again after you have had some nourishment to build up your strength!" She playfully popped him on the shoulder.

They ate the rest of their meal in virtual silence. It was not exactly awkward, but neither was it like the comfortable silences they used to share before things got off track between them. Olivia would watch him as he cut his food, noticing how the muscles in his hand and arm flexed and twisted with each movement. He had such big, strong hands. She noticed he did not have on his wedding band. In fact, she had noticed he had never put it back on after he went back to Kathy. She wondered what the significance of that was...or if there was any significance to it at all. The sleeves on his green dress shirt were rolled up past his forearms. They seemed to always be rolled up. Half of his Marine tattoo was visible on his right forearm and it made her think of the tattoo on his left arm, the crucifix that extended from his shoulder to the bend of his arm. That made her think of him without his shirt on, which made her think she need to quicky stop thinking along these lines. She turned her concentration back to her meal.

When she wasn't looking, Elliot would steal glances at her...memorizing everything about her. The way she held her fork; how long and slender her fingers were; how her lips pursed as she chewed her food; how often she took a swig of water. How she would brush the bangs out of her face only to have them fall over her right eye again, hiding it behind the curtain of hair. How the light reflected off her silken chestnut hair. The fact that watching her eat dinner held his attention, made him realize he had it bad for her. He would be lost without her...he had been lost without her when she was just a floor above him in computer crimes and again, when she was three thousand miles away in Oregon. Without her, he would be utterly and totally lost, whether he lost her because she left him, because their friendship splintered or because, God forbid, she died. He shook his head to chase away that last thought and was not even aware that he had done so.

"Why are you shaking your head? Something wrong with the food?" Liv's expression was curious.

"I...uh...I didn't realize...I was trying to...quit thinking about..." He was grasping for words to explain something that really should be left unsaid.

"About what?" She was really curious now. And you know what they say about curiosity...it killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

"Nothing." He felt warmth creeping up his neck and onto his face. He hoped she would just drop it.

Was he blushing, she thought? He was. His face was suddenly noticeably red. That was interesting. What exactly had he been thinking? She filed it away in her mind to work on later. She stared at him for a long couple of minutes, then changed the subject.

"Okay. I think you have eaten enough to ward off starvation, but I know you can always eat more...so..." She scooped a pile of vegetable fried rice onto his plate and on top of that a pile of beef and broccoli. "...get those chopsticks and let's try this again."

"Ah, come on, Liv...do I have to? You know I am no good at this." He whined, tilting his head to the side.

"Elliot Stabler, quit whining! You sound just like little boy!" She laughed at him as she handed him his chopsticks.

"You put this finger right here and hold them towards the end, and not in the middle or the front third of the sticks." She showed him by holding hers like she wanted him to do.

When he had them in his hand properly, she continued. "Hold the upper chopstick with the index finger, the middle finger, and the thumb...sort of like holding a pencil. Then you put the other chopstick between the bottom of your thumb and the tip of your ring finger. See, like this." She showed him and he tried to mimic her actions.

She expertly picked up a mouthful of rice and a piece of broccoli and brought it to her mouth. He managed to get a pile on the sticks, but it all fell off before he got it half way to his mouth. She laughed at him and he shot her a menacing look.

"No wonder most orientals are so thin! They don't get enough to eat!" He had leaned back in his seat, his arms crossed over his chest. His mock anger made her laugh all the more.

"How many times have we gone over this, El? The tips of the sticks have to line up or it just isn't going to work. Here...let's try it this way." She got up and went over to him.

Uncrossing his arms, he sat back up. He had one of the sticks in his hand and surprisingly, was holding it correctly. Leaning around him, she placed the other stick between his fingers and wrapped her hand around his so she could move the stick for him by putting pressure on his fingers.

The warmth of her hand on his caused a jolt of electricity to shoot up his arm, over his shoulder and through his body. She was leaning so close to him, he could smell her perfume and whatever it was, it smelled great.

"Move the upper chopstick only when you pick up food...like this..." She put pressure on his hand and the chopstick moved and she had a mouthful of food at his lips and he opened his mouth for it.

Her hand was still on his and as he chewed the food and swallowed. Their eyes met and locked. Blue on brown. Blue like the ocean...so deep, she could dive into them, drown in their depths and never find her way out again. Liquid brown, like pools of melted chocolate...eyes he could stare into forever, fully satisfied by their warmth and kindness. His cologne filled the air around her and the heat from his shoulder, arm and hand radiated through her. She felt her breath hitch and her heart rate rapidly increasing. She became so still she was not sure she was even breathing. He reached to cover her hand with his other hand and looked up into her face, his eyes searching hers, then dropping to her lips and back to her eyes as he leaned closer to her. At that moment, self-preservation kicked in and she pulled her hand away and stood up straight. She needed to put some distance between them. She thought he was going to kiss her. No. He was going to kiss her. That could not happen. Not now.

"Anyway, that is how you use chopsticks..." Her voice was shaky, barley above a whisper as she moved back to her side of the table.

She smiled at him, but, was not sure it was really a smile at all. She thought terror might be a more accurate description of how she felt and was sure she was unsuccessful at hiding it from her face. She could not hide anything from him, anyway. When he looked at her, he squinted his eyes just a bit, raised his head with his chin jutting out, as his lips slowly curled into that annoying smirk of his, that quickly spread across his whole countenance. She wanted to smack him one. He looked irritatingly pleased with himself and she was certain she knew why. Because she knew him. And she knew he knew her and he knew that she wanted him to kiss her. He was pleased with himself that he had that power over her and knew it. He knew she was terrified, too. She hated him for knowing. And she was angry at herself for being so transparent, even if he was the only one who had ever been able to read her.

Elliot knew all he had to do was pull her to him and it would be over. There would be no resistance. The years of wondering, of dreaming, of wishing, of hoping would all be over because he would finally know what it was to kiss her. He leaned forward to do just that, but, hesitated a second too long and lost his chance. She was quicker and pulled away before he could complete his action. He knew by the look in her eyes, a mixture of confusion, desire, terror...yep, she was terrified...he knew that she wanted him to kiss her at least as much as he wanted to kiss her. He watched as she retreated back to her chair, the table becoming a barrier of safety between them, protecting her. Perhaps, he thought vaguely, they both needed that protection. It was then that his senses kicked in, too. A little late, but there, nonetheless. He was married. He had no right to think about kissing her, let alone actually try or actually do it. He needed to get control of this situation. Or he needed to get out of the situation. Soon.

"Well, I'll try to remember these instructions and give it another shot next time we have Chinese." He smiled at her, holding up his chopsticks.

"Good. At least you aren't giving up." She began closing up the cartons.

Taking her lead, he began closing cartons, too. He took them and put them in the refrigerator, as she picked up their plates and took them to the sink and began rinsing them to load into the dishwasher. He got a kitchen cloth and wiped the table. Bringing the cloth back to the sink, he again noticed 'Stabler' across the back of the t-shirt she was wearing and smiled to himself. He leaned around her to rinse the cloth in the running water and he was, once again, dangerously close to her. Folding the cloth and laying it to the side of the sink, he sensed the sudden tension in her body.

Leaning even closer to her, he whispered in her ear. "Olivia, I wish you knew how much you scared me and how glad I am that you are better..." He could not help it. He had to touch her. He took his left hand and gently wrapped it around the back of her neck at the crook of her shoulder and squeezed it lightly a couple of times. For just a mere second, he felt her lean into him, but in the next second she jerked away, stepping back and wiping her wet hands on her jeans. Her eyes were wide, she was shaking her head and opening and closing her mouth, but no words came forth.

"What?" He asked her, holding his hands out in question. He knew what, but he wanted her to say it.

Her breathing was rough and deep. He could see her chest rising and falling so rapidly he worried she may hyperventilate. "What are you doing?" Confusion reigned in her expression. Her voice was quiet.

"What do you mean? I'm not doing anything." He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms.

"You...you know what. You...touched me...we don't...we don't do that, Elliot. We...we don't touch. Not like that." Her voice was so low he had to strain to hear her. She took another step back from him.

The expression on his face was one of amusement and he just shrugged because he knew what she meant, but he did not care anymore. He was so sick of pretending not to feel things that basically consumed him. He was tired of pretending that he could ignore her and she would quietly slip away from his life, from him. Without repercussion. When, in fact, she was so ingrained in his being that he knew he would never be completely free from her. If she moved half the world away, she would still be there, within him. Infusing his thoughts, haunting his dreams, controlling his emotions, consuming his life. And the thing was, he did not want to be free from her. She had become a part of him, slowly, without him even noticing or realizing that it happened. She had become the air he breathed, the ground that gave him stability, the very beat of his heart. He would not be able to function without her. And there was nothing he could do about it.

"Why is that? Why don't we touch, Liv?" He asked her softly. "Why have we always been so careful not to, huh?"

"We are not having this conversation!" She was shaking her head and holding her hands up, palms facing him. "No way!"

She was so confused. Before he came over, she planned to ask him about all the things she remembered, or thought she remembered, in the hospital. Did her really kiss her hands, stroke her cheek tenderly? Did Maureen tell her she hoped someone would love her like her Dad loved Liv? Had she heard him right when he called her 'baby', 'sweetheart' and 'honey'? Did he really say he was in love with her? She had planned to finally tell him how she felt, because the thought of something happening to him or her without her ever telling him, without him ever hearing it, knowing, had become too much for her to bear. Now, she was absolutely filled with terror when he attempted to show her how he felt. Now, she just wanted to do what she had always done...what it seemed she did best whenever someone...whenever he got too close. Run.

She started out of the kitchen. She was not sure where she thought she could go, but she was not staying in that small kitchen with him. Mistake number one...the fact that she had to walk closer to him to get out of the kitchen did not register in her confused, frightened mind. As she passed him, he reached out and grabbed her by her left wrist, pulling her back toward him, leaving mere inches between them. Shock kept her from reacting and pulling away from him. Keeping her head tilted down toward the floor, she refused to look at him. It would be too dangerous to connect with him that way, to hear in his eyes the words, she now knew, they both held in their hearts.

"You are not running away, Liv." He paused. "Tell me why we have always been so careful not to touch. Tell me." She felt his warm breath moving through her hair as he spoke. It sent shivers throughout her entire body.

She felt the intensity of his gaze and the whispering rumble of his voice tugged at her heart. It was too much to ignore, to resist. Mistake number two...she slowly lifted her head, bringing her eyes to meet his. When she did, he pulled her close, erasing the space between them and held her to him. He did not try to kiss her. He just held her. One strong hand against her lower back and the other at the base of her head, lightly running his fingers through her hair. She was rigid and tense in his arms for only seconds before she gave in and melted into his embrace, putting her arms around him under his arms. Laying her head against his chest, she could hear his racing heart beat. Hers was beating just as fast and it was making her lightheaded. Or maybe it was just being so close to him.

The feeling that came over him when he pulled her to him and she responded by hugging him back was indescribable. He had never felt like this in his entire life. It was as though he had been missing a piece of himself all along, yet never knew it until he found it. Never knew it until he felt it slide into place, her slide into place and complete him. That hug they had experienced in the hospital after the car accident...it was wonderful, but, it could not compare to this one. He was not sure why this was different. Maybe because he had more time to think about his feelings. Maybe because of the additional things and tension that had been between them recently. Maybe because this time he realized how very close he came to really losing her. She could have died from the poisoning. He really didn't know what made it different. It just was. He never wanted to let her go.

"Liv...I...we...never finished that talk...at O'Reilly's..." He found himself having to work past his emotions to form words and then force them out through his suddenly very constricted throat.

She did not want to talk right now. She just wanted to enjoy the feeling of his arms around her, the sound of their hearts beating together, the warmth of his body against hers, the smell of his cologne, soap, fabric softener, and him as the fragrant mixture filled each breath she took. She wanted to drown in those ocean blue eyes. She wanted to memorize everything she felt and smelled and saw and heard. No, she did not want to talk. For the first time ever in her life, she felt safe. She felt complete. She felt content. All she wanted was just to be held in his arms. She would stay here forever, if she could.

"Did you hear me? We really need to talk, Liv. I need to talk...to tell you some things I should have told you a long time ago..." His voice was a low whisper as he kissed the top of her head.

"I hear you...I don't want to talk...I just want to be here...in your arms." She spoke softly into his chest, her warm breath heating his skin through his shirt.

Her words made his heart jump and he smiled. "Okay...okay. Then, I'll talk...you can listen. How's that?" He murmured to her.

"Mmmm...okay..." She burrowed deeper into his chest and hugged him tighter.

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A/N: The reviews are so awesome, I want to become a full time author! Maybe I will submit my story to Dick! LOL!! " ) Bensler

MegMann: Glad you are over the pneumonia.

Benslerfan and others who think they know who the perp is: "You never know!" Evil laughter erupts from the author, as she types the last line.

svulover15: Thanks for noticing 'the lack of spelling and grammatical errors'. One of my major pet peeves, is the amount of misspelling, misuse of words and grammatical errors, I find when reading other material...even newspapers and mags. I am actually astounded by the number of people who cannot seem to form coherent sentences when writing, including some who are very high level professionals. But, you know what? No matter how many times I read and re-read, I still find a few errors after I post the chapter!!

LivNel4ever: I know, I know. About the E/K thing. But, hey, they are married!