A/N: Preparing for a homecoming is never easy.
DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and the characters; TStabler© owns the story you're about to read.
It's not that we weren't thrilled at the possibility of coming home, we just…for over a month, we were all we had. Do you know what that does to a person? They say that people in solitary confinement go crazy after three days, but people who are held against their will with someone else go equally as insane, it just takes longer. Hallucinations, submission, complete dependency on the other person…it all became part of who we were. Who…who we are.
THERE
"Can't you drive any faster?" Fin spits at Dean from the backseat.
Dean glares at him through the rearview mirror. "I would, but there's a lot of dead weight in the back and it's slowing me down."
Fin growls, a sound that startles Cragen beside him. "We have less than ten hours," he fires. "If you woulda pushed the fuckin' gas pedal, we woulda been on time for our flight."
"Oh, yeah," Dean barks. "Blame me, not the overturned tractor-trailer on the damned expressway, or the fact that someone booked the flight for the wrong day."
"Both of you!" Cragen yells, his nostrils flaring. "Shut the hell up! You're not gonna get us there any faster by blaming each other, okay? Just drive!"
There's silence as the grown men huff, irritated and embarrassed. "Sorry," Dean says, manning up and being the bigger person, because he knows Fin won't.
"Whatever," Fin mumbles, then turns to his captain. "You talked to him, Cap. Is he okay? I mean, we're not gonna get there and find 'em dead, or…"
"They're both fine," Cragen interrupts, perishing the thought that Fin just put into his mind. "He sounded, I dunno, relaxed. Like he…like it didn't matter if we found them or not."
Fin scoffs. "He was probably just keepin' cool so he wouldn't scare Liv. She's gotta be…"
"They missed their anniversary," Cragen says with a sigh. "It was yesterday. I don't think he even realized…" He clears his throat. "The day they became partners. You know, they always celebrate that. I can't imagine what this has been like for them, but I know they both fought like hell. So when we find them, Fin, you can't treat them like victims."
"But, Cap," Fin begins with narrow eyes. "That's what they are."
HERE
She smiles as she watches him get out of the bed, his bare ass in full view. She lets her mind drift to less than wholesome thoughts, a soft moan escapes, and she sinks deeper into the mattress. She tilts her head, looking on intently as he opens the shower curtain. She closes her eyes and she knows, she can see exactly what he's doing, and it doesn't bother her that she knows him so well.
"Are you coming?" he yells over the running water.
She laughs and throws off the blanket, padding barefoot and naked toward the shower. She wraps a hand around the curtain, tugs it aside just enough to climb in under the spray, and she looks at him.
He grins at her, one hand following drops of water along the curves of her body. "How'd I get so lucky?" he whispers.
She chuckles and leans into him, her lips are touching his as she speaks. "I'm the lucky one," she returns, her arms slinking around him.
He kisses her, a long, deep kiss, and reaches a hand over her head to grab the bar of soap with the O carved into it. Just as he clutches the slippery, lavender brick, the water turns off.
"What the…" she pauses, looking up and around. "We couldn't have possibly run out of…"
"Shh," he hushes, tilting his head toward the curtain. "He's coming," he snaps. He yanks the bathrobes off of the hooks near the shower and gets her wrapped up before worrying about his own humility. He's always been protective of her, possessive even, but now, even though he knows the man has watched them in many intimate moments, he can't even allow another man, another person, to see the barest hint of what he knows is his and his alone.
"Here," she breathes, pulling his robe closed and tying it for him, protecting what is hers just as he had done.
He reaches for the curtain, but it's pulled open before he can grab it. "Whoa, okay," he spits out, stepping in front of Olivia.
The man's head tilts in confusion. Then he realizes. "Sorry," he says, his scratchy voice sounding more gravelly than normal. He lowers his gun and steps aside. "That's not for you. Get dressed. We're getting company."
Still in front of her, Elliot takes Olivia's hand and guides her back toward the bed. His eyes narrow, then he gasps. "What the hell is all this?" he asks, unsure if what he feels is excitement or anger.
Olivia's fingers graze over the fabric of the cream-colored dress on the bed. She smiles when she sees the empire waistline and gemstone-littered ribbon. "It's gorgeous, Jackson," she says, not looking at either man, but remaining fixed on the dress.
"There are a lot of people waiting for you," Jackson says, moving back and sitting on a chair. "An entire city that's wondered where you've been. That means, once you get out of here, they're all gonna be taking your picture. You're gonna be in every newspaper on the East coast. I wanted you to…look nice."
Elliot's eyes shoot from him to the suit on the bed. "That's not necessary," he says, though he's fingering the silk tie as if he's somehow seen it before. And then it hits him. "Where did you get this?"
Jackson laughs, it sounds dark and dangerous. "I can't tell you that," he says. "But the person who sent it out to me told me you wanted to wear it to a wedding. Or…was it a funeral?" He stands and walks over to them, then shifts a bit closer to Olivia. "You're gonna look beautiful in that."
She looks up at him, and her first instinct, though she knows it's horrible and wrong, is to hug him. She doesn't. "Thank you," she says, but it's so quiet neither man hears her. "Why?" she asks, a bit louder. "Why are you doing all of this?"
Jackson laughs again, the same bone-chilling laugh as before. "You'll see, Olivia. Just change, and have a seat." He lifts the gun up, then, letting the fluorescent light hit the barrel. "It won't be long now. This is ending tonight. One way or the other."
Elliot stares at the gun, he moves in front of Olivia again.
Another laugh from Jackson, one that sends shivers down Elliot and Olivia's spines. "I told you," he said. "This isn't for you." He pockets the gun. "At least, not for another seven hours."
THERE
"You can't expect them to be the same people they were when they were taken," Doctor Huang's voice flows through the car.
Cragen looks narrowly at the phone, as if the doctor is really there and not just on speaker. "What do we have to do when…"
"Don't touch them," Huang interrupts. "I know your first, natural reaction will be to hug them, but do not do that. They will either shrink away from you or punch you. They're going to be very defensive of themselves and each other, and this has probably affected their trust…"
"Okay, got it, don't touch 'em," Fin cuts in. "We gotta get em into the van without touchin' them. Easy." He rolls his eyes.
Huang sighs audibly, and he says, "They'll be sensitive, too. They've been in a temperate room without any natural lighting for six weeks. They'll be very cold, and probably squinting a lot. You need to make sure you have…"
"Blankets," Dean says with a nod. "They're in the trunk. I also brought bottles of water and protein bars."
"Good," Huang says, his voice soft, curious.
"How the hell did you know what they'd need?" Fin asks Porter, sounding accusing. "I swear if after all of this I find out you had something to…"
"I'm an FBI agent!" Dean yells, taking his eyes off the road for a second to turn and snap at Fin. "You don't think I haven't seen this shit before? You've got a stick up your…"
"Porter! Watch out!" Cragen yells.
And it isn't until the van spins out that anyone realizes they've been hit.
HERE
"I don't see why we had to get dressed so soon," she grumbles as she runs a brush through her hair. "I've been in this stupid thing for hours."
He chuckles. "We worked around it," he jokes, pulling up the zipper of his pants. "A couple of times."
She rolls her eyes. "But still," she says. "I'm not very comfortable. I'm actually kind of used to wearing…a lot less than this."
"You look amazing, though," he says softly, his fingers tugging lightly at the hem of her dress. "Absolutely amazing."
She pulls on his tie and says, "You clean up nice, yourself, Stabler."
He laughs and kisses her, and he murmurs something lowly into her ear. He hears her whispered reply and he growls, his eyes narrowing. "Bad girl," he teases, but then he hears footsteps, and his head turns.
She doesn't move away from him when she hears the door open. She only stops breathing when she hears Jackson's voice.
"You may have gotten all dressed up for nothing," the man yells. His cold laugh filters through the basement and he says, "They've got twenty minutes to find you, or no one ever will."
The door slams, the locks click, and Elliot kisses her again, but his smile's gone this time. It's desperate now. As a man would kiss his lover goodbye, knowing he'd never return.
Her fingers curl, her nails start to dig into the thick cotton of his suit jacket and down into the silk of his shirt. She's needy and she whimpers against his lips as she tried to climb onto him somehow. What he has just said terrifies her, and she knows he's right.
He pulls away from her to breathe, his hands still holding firmly to her. "I never got to tell you…I never got to say till death do us part, but if that…"
"Don't," she pants, clawing at his back again and sealing her lips over his. "Please, don't."
He lets out a frustrated noise, and then a sound of defeat, and his body reacts to hers for the fourth time since they've changed. He rolls his hips into her, he feels her heat radiating from the thin dress, and he can't tell if it's her lust for him or fear for her life, but now it doesn't matter.
She knows that he's worried, she can tell that he isn't sure if pressing this is a good idea, but if they aren't going to be saved, she needs him one last time.
The crash above their heads breaks them apart. Their eyes shoot upward and they wait, and they listen.
"That's Fin," she says, hearing a loud yell. "God, El, they're here!"
Elliot pulls his love, his life, closer to him and he holds on tight as they listen to the scuffling and screaming, discerning a few words and trying to follow the footsteps hoping they'll inch closer to the door to their private hell.
They're both thrilled and scared, overjoyed and terribly depressed, and when the gunshots ring out, five of them, they both stop breathing. They look at each other, and it's quiet now.
Afraid to speak, he simply blinks at her.
"You think they…or that he…" she tries to ask, but her emotions win and the only thing that comes out now is a cry.
He wipes away the few tears that have fallen, and he kisses her lips gently. "I don't know."
"Olivia? Elliot?" a loud voice yells from the top of the stairs. "Elliot! Olivia!"
They hear the locks unlatch, they hear the chains rattle, and they hear the door creak open. She presses herself into him, and he wraps himself around her tightly. As the footsteps on the stairs draw nearer, and they see his face, they know.
It's over.
A/N: Who came down the stairs? Who was shot? What happens now?