Olivia felt like utter shit. Her nose was completely blocked, her throat felt like sandpaper, her head pounded and her temperature had been 101.2 degrees when she checked it an hour before. She laid on her couch, curled up into a ball with a blanket covering her. Her condition hadn't changed much since that morning. When her alarm went off and she tried to get up and ready for work, she knew that there was no way she would be able to function like a normal human being. So she called the captain, told him she wasn't feeling well, and went right back to sleep. She only transferred to the couch about an hour ago.
There was a knock on her door, and she sighed, slipping off of the couch.
When she opened the door, her partner stood in front of her, still wearing his work suit, minus the tie. It had been a week and a half since he was released from the hospital, and she had to admit, she was surprised that he'd stayed away from the precinct for that long. Today was his first day back. "Hey, Liv. The captain told me you weren't feeling well." He held up the bag in his hand. "I brought you a few things. Can I come in?"
He obviously saw the surprise on her face, because he chuckled. "Yeah, I know, call in the press. Stabler's actually being nice."
She smiled slightly, stepping aside to let him in. "I'm not complaining."
He placed the bag on the counter, and began taking items out. She watched him set a bottle of Gatorade, box of saltines, and container of soup next to the bag. He guided her back to the couch, and set his hand against her forehead. She stared up at him for a moment, and she couldn't help but see the fatherly nature he'd adopted. It was a welcome change from his usual stoic, hardened attitude. "You're burning up."
"101.2." Olivia said.
Elliot grabbed the Gatorade from the counter, opened it, and handed it to her. "Here, drink some of this. Don't want you to get dehydrated."
"Thanks." She said, sipping at the cool beverage. Elliot nodded, slipped off his shoes and sat down next to her on the couch. He reached for the remote before she spoke again. "What are you doing?"
He looked at her, and shrugged sheepishly. "I figured I'd stick around to make sure you're okay. I can leave."
"You know, Stabler, I don't know how I fell for the asshole routine." Olivia said, smiling. "You've got a bigger heart than you let on."
Elliot glanced down at his hands, a bit of discomfort rising in his chest. He wasn't sure why, but those words just didn't sit well with him. He was sure that it wasn't because he didn't want her to feel that way, in fact, he was almost completely at peace with her knowledge of what he'd tried so hard to keep suppressed. "Well, you stayed with me after I was shot. I have to repay you, don't I?"
"El, you saved my life when you jumped in front of that bullet. I was repaying you for that!"
"Well, I'm already here, and I can't leave my sick partner alone, can I?"
She shook her head, setting the Gatorade bottle on the coffee table. "I guess not."
He crossed his legs over the coffee table, and began to flip through the channels. "Besides, I'm getting really tired of being alone."
Olivia couldn't say that she wasn't surprised by the admission; it wasn't that she was shocked he was feeling lonely, but rather the fact that he would so willingly admit it. She wrapped the blanket tighter around her, staring at him for a moment. His eyes were glassy, and even when he was sitting still like he was now, she could see the resignation and the grief weighing on him. He was starting to open up to her, but that hadn't healed him. It was going to take a lot of time and work for that to happen.
He turned to her, giving her a half smile. "Anything in particular you want to watch, sickee?"
"Sickee?" She repeated. "I'm insulted. I am not a sickee."
"Then why are you laying there like you're half dead?" He fired back. "Just admit it. There's nothing wrong with being a sickee."
She grunted ingloriously, and snuggled deeper under her blanket. "I'm going to sneeze on you. Maybe that will give you whatever I have."
Elliot opened his eyes slowly, and looked around. Where am I? This isn't my apartment. He felt something on his shoulder. It was a head, hair matted and messy. In his hazy, not fully conscious mind, he thought, Kathy?
No. Kathy's gone.
Olivia.
OLIVIA.
His heart jumped. He wanted nothing more than to get as far away from this apartment as possible, but he forced himself to calm down. Her head is on my shoulder. Get a grip, it's not the end of the world. She's sick. She's tired. Don't wake her up because you're a fool.
Something else rose in his chest, but he forced it back down. Absolutely not. Get it out of your head. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and started the process of trying to get up without waking her. After their little talk, she'd grown even more miserable, complaining about a headache and being sick to her stomach. He'd given her the Saltines, and that helped only slightly; he knew what she really needed was rest. He didn't want to wake her now, after she'd finally been able to get to sleep.
He set her head gently down on the couch cushion, wrapped the blanket more comfortably around her, and the 'something' rose in his chest again. I have to get out of here.
Elliot scribbled a note for her, left it on the counter, and left the apartment as quick as he could.
The squad room was dimly lit and there were few detectives left mulling about. Elliot was one of them, but he wasn't working. Rather, he simply sat, sliding his pen between his fingers as he stared at the empty desk across from him.
"I'm beginning to see this scene a little too often." Cragen approached Elliot. "Your partner's still out sick, Elliot. What are you doing here so late?"
Elliot shrugged, silent for a long moment. "I was gonna go home, but… Guess I've just been thinking too much."
"About what?" Cragen asked.
Elliot set his pen down. "A lot of things."
They sat in silence for a long moment before Cragen finally spoke. "You know, you've come a long way in the last few weeks."
"I said the same thing to a rape victim the other day." Elliot said, turning his gaze to the top of the desk.
"What else did you say?"
Elliot shrugged. "You know all the lines."
"Humor me."
"It's not her fault. It could have happened to anyone. She has to accept it and try to move on from it."
"Maybe you should take your own advice."
Elliot nodded slowly. He took a deep breath, and blew it out through his lips slowly. He reached into his desk drawer, and pulled out the picture that Cragen showed Olivia when she came asking questions. He stared down at it, feeling his eyes moisten.
"Hey, stand here and we can get a picture!"
Elliot had Maureen on his back. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck. Kathleen stood next to him while Kathy asked a stranger to take a picture. Kathy stood next to him, the camera flashed, and Elliot smiled. Things couldn't be better.
His thumb ran over the photo, and despite the incredible pain in his chest, he smiled. The memory was one of the best that he had. One of the tears slipped down his face as he placed the photo on edge of the desk, in the same place it had rested until that day a year and a half ago. When he turned towards his captain, he saw a smile filled with pride.
Cragen squeezed his shoulder. "Goodnight, Elliot. Go home, get some rest."
Elliot nodded, standing. "Goodnight, captain."
Elliot walked into the bullpen, sipping at his coffee as he sat down at his desk. He had finally been taken off limited duty after his injury, and it was safe to say that he was glad to get back into the swing of things. Too much time to think was the exact thing that he didn't need.
Not more than ten minutes later, a man burst into the bullpen. His suit was rumpled, but Elliot could see that it was high end. If that didn't give away the man's status, the three gold rings on his hand did. "I need some help here!"
The detective stood. "I'm Detective Stabler. What can I do for you?"
"It's my daughter." The man said. Closer inspection revealed that his eyes were bloodshot and puffy. "I woke up this morning and she was gone. I found this note." He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Elliot.
The detective read the note quickly, and shook his head. It looked like a standard ransom note. "Alright, can I have your name?"
"Gabriel Sandoval. My daughter's name is Isabella."
Elliot led the man into an interview room, grabbing a notepad and a pen along the way. One thing was for sure: his day was definitely going to be an interesting one.
A/N: He's may be starting to develop some feelings. But will he acknowledge them? Does she feel the same? The E/O buds are blooming! Let me know what you think!