Chapter Note:

Chapter 12 is one of the chapters that I feel most connected to. It remains one of the chapters that I see in my mind so vividly, it's as if this is an actual episode. It also happens to be the chapter that was the most fluid for me to write - as if it were writing itself. Maybe others will read it and think I'm insane. I'm okay with that. ;) Just know that over the years, when I've re-read any pieces of BP, this is the chapter I've returned to the most.

In case anyone is interested, I listened to the song "All or Nothing" by Nicola Hitchcock incessantly while writing this one.

Chapter Twelve

Elliot had shifted, one leg extended along the futon while the other remained on the floor as he reclined to allow Olivia to lie against him in a more comfortable position. Her cheek was resting on his chest, her right arm draped across his stomach and her left tucked between his side and the back of the cushion. Elliot had wrapped his arms around her and was gently running his fingers through her hair in a half-hearted attempt to ease her back into consciousness. He didn't want her to awaken. He wanted to remain with her in this temporary moment of calm. What's more, Olivia had not moved a muscle in the last half hour, an indication that she was deeply asleep, blissfully beyond the point at which she could be plagued by nightmares – at least for the time being. Elliot knew that this stillness was transitory, and he felt cruel dragging her back into the present that was anything but secure.

Nevertheless, he didn't feel right about continuing to hold her without her consent. Her exhaustion had made the decision for her.

"Liv," he murmured, continuing the motion of his hand.

No response.

"Liv," he repeated more loudly.

"Mmph," she mumbled in protest, burrowing further into his arms.

He smiled, wrapping his arms around her more tightly and giving her a couple of gentle squeezes to shake her slightly. "Liv, it's time for bed."

Her brow furrowed, gradually processing his words as her eyes fluttered open. She blinked at the TV, taking in her surroundings and slowly becoming aware of the rise and fall of Elliot's chest beneath her. Her eyes widened and she attempted to push herself up and off of him, faltering because her left arm had fallen asleep.

He placed his hand on her shoulder to help her, sliding his leg off of the futon as they both straightened.

"El, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be."

She smoothed her hands over her hair, shivering from the loss of his body heat. "You should have woken me up."

He shrugged. "I just did."

She shifted somewhat uncomfortably, embarrassed at having once again sought comfort in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Liv. I didn't mean-" he struggled to find the words. "I just…you were exhausted. I didn't have the heart to wake you sooner."

She nodded, looking down at her hands.

Once again, Elliot felt guilty. He had been selfish to wait. He cleared his throat. "I'll, um, I'll take the futon. You take the bed."

A wave of panic flooded over her. She snapped her head up to meet his gaze. "No, El. This is fine." She couldn't sleep in his bed. She just couldn't. She imagined what it would be like to lie in the imprint of his body, the smell of him lingering on the sheets… It was too much. The boundaries were already too blurred, too confusing.

"Liv, you'll be more comfortable. Please."

She adamantly shook her head and Elliot was taken aback by the fear in her eyes.

"El, I can't."

She didn't offer him any explanation, and he didn't push her. "Okay." He sat still for a moment, concern etched in his features. He pushed himself up to stand. "Let me just make this up for you."

"I can do it, El. It's no problem."

"Liv, I've got this."

His tone left no room for discussion.

"Okay. I'll, um… I'll be right back." She gestured to the bathroom.

"Do you need anything?"

"No, thanks."

He watched as she disappeared around the corner. Without any hints as to the source of her anxiety at the prospect of sleeping in his bed, he assumed that he really had traumatized her to such an extent that the very idea brought back painful associations for her. He turned away, trying to push the thought out of his head by focusing on simple tasks: turning off the TV, checking the windows, gathering blankets, a pillow; yet no amount of avoidance could diminish the ache within.

She emerged from the bathroom to find him smoothing a second blanket over the now flattened futon.

"Thanks."

"Sure."

There was tension in the air – a combination of melancholy and discomfiture at things left unspoken, and Olivia endeavored to fill the emptiness with words.

"I used some of your toothpaste."

He nodded. "You sure you don't need anything else?"

She shook her head.

He returned his attention to the futon. "Are you going to be warm enough?"

"I'll be fine."

"I could grab another blanket." He thought back over their years of stakeouts and countless wars over the thermostat – wars that she always won. He turned his head over his shoulder, shooting her a knowing glance. "I know how you get cold even when it's seventy degrees out."

"This is great, really," she replied, a slight smile gracing her lips.

"Okay." He turned to face her, taking in her appearance. She was practically asleep on her feet. "You'll call if you need anything?"

"Yeah, thanks."

He pressed his lips together, shoving his hands in his pockets to prevent himself from reaching out to her.

"Night, then."

"Night, El."

He forced himself to walk past her and head down the hallway.

She turned off the light and crawled under the covers. No sooner had she rested her head upon the pillow than she realized the irony. Everything smelled like him: the pillow, the blankets, the apartment, probably even herself. She curled her knees into her chest. She was cold, but no amount of extra blankets would be able to warm her. It was a chill brought about by emptiness and fear and fatigue. It was a chill that had only seemed to dissipate during the times in which she had found herself wrapped up in Elliot's arms. She missed him. He was in the next room, and she missed him. She buried her face in the pillow and inhaled deeply, as if the traces of him would be sufficient to fill the void.

After a while, she heard his footsteps crossing the hall from his bedroom to the bathroom, the light momentarily brightening her surroundings before he shut the door behind him and the darkness returned. Soon after, she heard him start the shower, the steady hiss a comforting reminder of the fact that he was close by. She tried to focus on the sound as a means to distract herself from her thoughts, and little by little her breathing slowed, her body relaxed, until sleep claimed her once more.

Elliot had finished in the shower and changed into a pair of boxers and a T-shirt when he heard her soft whimpers from the other room. He froze for a moment, his hand automatically reaching for the gun he'd placed on the counter. He turned off the bathroom light, allowing his eyes a few seconds to adjust before slowly turning the knob and opening the door. He crept into the hallway, scanning the area and noting that the chain remained in place on the front door and that nothing seemed out of place. He walked a few paces into the living room to check on her, and found her tossing and turning in the clutches of another nightmare. She was crying in her sleep, her tears glistening in the moonlight. He rubbed a hand over his head, his heart breaking at the sight. The urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her was overwhelming, and he had almost made up his mind to go to her when he heard it:

"No, please, Elliot!"

Her words sliced through him like a knife in his gut. He closed his eyes. God, he hated himself. He couldn't offer her comfort. She would only awaken to see the face of her attacker. That thought alone was what convinced him to walk away.

He made his way to his bedroom, depositing his weapon on the nightstand and sinking down onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He remained there, motionless, listening to the sound of her cries. Eventually she fell silent. Perhaps she had awoken, or perhaps she had finally slipped into a deeper sleep. He raised his head, not bothering to swipe at the traces of moisture on his skin. He stared at the floor, overcome by grief, his thoughts incoherent. He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he ultimately lay down, turning onto his side. His eyes remained open, his gaze fixed at a random spot on the wall.

He could not have pinpointed the exact moment at which he had fallen asleep, but he was aware the instant that Olivia began to cry out once again. He rolled onto his back, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He was back in that room. He was restraining her, mocking her, pushing inside of her again and again as she wept beneath him.

He was raping her.

He sat up, leaning his back against the headboard. She had told him that he hadn't forced her, but Elliot was now more certain than ever that this wasn't the case. He remembered the panic in her expression after he had forced her to her knees – she had been terrified beyond the point of recognition. He had caused this. He thought back to his attempts to end things – to get her to utter the words that would have prevented the assault from escalating any further. She had refused to say them every time. Yet now he was struck by the sickening realization that she must have wanted to say the words, but had been trying to protect them. The moment that deadbolt slid into place, the ability to consent had been stolen from her. She had pushed herself to keep going for fear that, had she not, Nikolai would have killed them both.

Her cries subsided again, and Elliot was torn. They needed to talk. He didn't want to wake her, but he didn't know that he would be able to get through the night without speaking to her. He wondered if Olivia was even aware of the extent to which he had frightened her in that room, since she had continued to so adamantly deny it. He would have to confront her. He would have to tread carefully, but he would have to push her. If not, she would never admit the truth to him or to herself.

He stood, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and quietly padding down the hall. She wasn't sleeping. She was sitting with her back against the wall, her knees pulled into her chest. She startled as he came into view, trying and failing to regulate her rapid heart rate. He gave her time to get used to his presence, walking first into the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge before slowly approaching her. He lowered himself to sit on the edge of the futon, extending the bottle toward her.

She took it from him with a shaky hand, looking anywhere other than at him. "Thank you."

He nodded.

His nearness and his silence were making her nervous. "I-I'm sorry if I woke you."

"You don't need to apologize."

"It's…it's late. You should go back to bed."

"I'm not leaving you alone right now," he said calmly.

"El, I'm fine, really."

He took a deep breath. "Liv," he hesitated, "We need to talk about the nightmares."

Pain flitted across her features. She shook her head, taking a sip of the water.

"Liv-"

"El, I don't want to talk about this," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"I know."

She set her jaw, reopening her eyes and focusing on the bottle. She refastened the cap, and set it to the side. "Elliot, I'm tired. Please go back to bed."

She was doing everything in her power to push him away, but he wasn't going to let her.

"No. Not this time. Talk to me."

"Please, El? I can't do this right now."

"Yes, you can."

She shook her head, averting her gaze.

"Liv, please don't do this. Don't shut me out."

She said nothing, ducking her head and wrapping her arms around her middle.

"Why can't you look at me right now, huh?" he prodded gently, tucking a finger beneath her chin and lifting her head up to face him.

She bit her lip, trying to hold his gaze but faltering.

Elliot gestured between the two of them, indicating their close proximity on the futon. "This scares you right now. Why?"

"No it doesn't," she lied, her breathing rapid.

She attempted to turn away from him, but he brought his other hand to her face, holding her still.

"What do I do to you in your nightmares?" he persisted, his tone incredibly gentle.

Olivia's eyes welled with tears. "El, please."

"Do I hurt you?"

"Please don't do this," she whispered, wrenching her head out of his grasp.

"Do I rape you?" he continued, anguish in his eyes. He had to be strong. This was about her.

"God, El, please. Please don't do this," she begged, sliding away from him and pushing herself to her feet. She came to stop by the window, nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Elliot followed, coming to stop a few inches away from her, his chest constricting as she involuntarily flinched. "Tell me what happens that makes you so afraid."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Yes, you are," he said quietly. He was challenging her, but his tone was calm.

"I'm not."

He slowly reached his hand toward her, brushing the hair back from her face and gently tapping his index finger against her temple. "Liv, somewhere inside of here, you are."

"No," she shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I trust you. You would never hurt me."

"I did hurt you."

"Carl hurt me," she responded, pain in her eyes as she struggled to convince herself of the distinction.

"I hurt you."

"No," her voice wavered.

"I hit you. I intimidated you. I held you down," he spoke slowly, deliberately emphasizing that the actions were his own.

"You had to," she rationalized. "That was the c-cover. That wasn't you."

"Wasn't it?"

She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. "El-"

"Because I sure as hell know that Tara was never in that room."

"Elliot-" She was shaking, pushing against the wall of his chest to try to move past him.

He grasped her forearms, holding them up between them to draw attention to her wrists. "These are bruises that I inflicted. Me."

"Let me go," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.

He immediately released her. His intent was not to frighten her, only to prove his point. "And these," he continued, bringing his palm to lightly graze her cheek, his voice gruff. "I caused these."

Olivia whimpered, tears streaming down her face. She didn't want to hear him.

"And I will never forget," he rasped, a lone tear escaping and sliding down his cheek. "I will never forget what I did to you…what I put you through."

Olivia choked back a sob, her shoulders shaking.

"Tell me what happens in your dreams, Liv." He cupped her face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over her tears.

Her chest was heaving, her sobs intensifying as she struggled to comply with his request.

He waited for her.

"It changes every time."

"What does?"

"Y-you…Th-them," she hiccupped. "I always think it's you – the real you," her chin quivered, "but it's not." She took several shuddering breaths, anxiety taking over. "I-I can't do this. Please don't make me do this."

The desperation and pleading in her tone were almost more than he could bear. His heart was breaking, but he knew, now more than ever, that she had to talk about this, and that he had to hear her. "What happens next?" he asked, leading her, guiding her as he would a victim's statement.

"I beg you to help me."

"Liv, why do you need my help?"

She closed her eyes, her entire body trembling. "Because they're there," she breathed.

"Who's there?" he asked gently, already knowing the answer but needing for her to voice it.

"Nikolai…Harris…sometimes the others."

"And when you beg me for help?" he asked, his voice heavily laden with emotion.

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut more tightly, her chest and stomach erupting into violent, jerky spasms. She didn't want to say it aloud, because it would be a confirmation of everything that she was trying so hard to deny. She shook her head. She had already said too much, and even though she knew that Elliot had already intuited the words she had yet to speak, she didn't want to tell him. She didn't want to admit that, more than any of the others, he was the man who was haunting her in her dreams.

Elliot tried to begin for her. "I don't help you."

She shook her head.

"What happens, Liv?"

She looked up at him, completely grief-stricken. She didn't want to hurt him. The thought only made her cry harder.

"Ssh…it's okay. Liv, it's okay. You can tell me." He rested his palms on her shoulders, waiting for her sobs to abate enough to permit her to speak.

"S-sometimes it's what you don't do."

He returned her tentative gaze with a question in his eyes.

She looked down at the ground. "Sometimes you'll watch them," she murmured. "I'll call for you and you'll…you'll just laugh."

His hands tightened their grip.

She lowered her voice, knowing that her words were tearing him apart. "Or I…I'll think you're going to help, but instead you'll trap me…hold me down." She fell silent, her breathing rapid and shallow.

She was holding back. "Liv, what else?"

She closed her eyes, choking back another sob. When she spoke again, her voice was barely audible. "Sometimes you join in."

Her shoulders shook and she tried to turn away from him. She cursed her lack of control over her emotions and her mind. That she could ever confuse the man who had stood beside her and protected her for all of these years with someone capable of such acts shook her to her core.

Elliot pulled her to him, enfolding her into an embrace as she wept.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Liv."

"El, it's not you. I know you. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"I frightened you," he repeated.

She said nothing – for the first time acknowledging the truth. She cried, clutching his shirt in her hands for fear that this silent admission would be the final insult from which they would never be able to recover. She had been afraid of him. She wasn't sure what this meant – about her trust in him, about their trust in each other.

"Shh, Liv. God knows that I frightened myself. That I could force you…" his voice cracked. "That I could r-rape-"

"No!" She pushed away from him to look him in the eyes. She shook her head, looking at him with a mixture of pain and concern and incredulity. "You didn't rape me, El."

"Liv, I forced you-"

She tried to reach for him, but he took a step back.

"No, El."

"I did!" he said sharply. "And don't try to tell me that the tears were all for show, or that you had a choice in any of this, because we both know that's bullshit."

"Elliot, I consented," she gritted, finding her anger.

"We were locked in that goddamned room, Olivia! You had no choice!"

She didn't back down. She raised her voice right back at him.

"Damn it, Elliot, neither did you! We made the choice before we ever got there! We both knew the risks; we both knew what was at stake."

He shook his head dismissively. "No, Liv. It doesn't work that way. Agreeing to do something you don't want to do for fear of the consequences isn't the same as consenting by your own free will. We see it every damned day."

"I consented," she repeated, her eyes narrowed and her fists clenched at her sides.

"Jesus, Liv! You've admitted that I scared the shit out of you, so why is it so damned hard for you to admit that I-"

"Because I wanted it!" she yelled, her entire body shaking from anger and grief and fatigue. "Damn it, El," she cried, spinning away from him and clutching her head in her hands.

The sudden silence in the room was deafening.

Olivia's wide eyes stared toward the window, her breaths coming in shallow pants as she panicked at what she had just revealed. Elliot had frozen behind her, his mouth agape from lack of preparedness or knowledge of how to respond.

When she finally spoke again her voice was small, weak.

"N-not like that…not that way…but I wanted…I wanted you." Her chest ached from the admission and she wanted to crawl away and hide – anything to save herself from the pain of rejection and humiliation. She wrapped her arms around herself. "You scared me…but you didn't rape me." Her voice broke. "Damn it, El. Why can't you just let this go?"

Elliot was silent for a moment, still reeling from her words. There were so many questions he wanted to ask her, so many things he wanted to tell her, but he couldn't go there now. Now was the time to address the issue that had been tormenting him since they were inside of that room – the reason for which he was convinced that her attempts to absolve him of his guilt were false. He slowly approached her, standing behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders. When he spoke, all traces of frustration were gone, leaving only pain and remorse.

"Because you broke apart, Liv. Because I forced you to your knees and exposed myself to you, and you broke apart."

She was trembling beneath his palms. "That wasn't because of you," she whispered.

"I saw the terror in your eyes, Liv. I saw it."

She swiped at the tears that continued to fall. "Elliot, please just trust me on this?"

"No. I need to know."

She sniffed and exhaled shakily. "It wasn't what you did. It was what you s-said," she managed, her diaphragm continuing to spasm.

His brow furrowed in confusion and he tried to think back to that moment – to filter through all of the cruel and hurtful things that he had said to her in attempts to find the one that could possibly have been responsible for causing such an extreme response.

"Y-you said…" she struggled to speak.

"What did I say, Liv?"

"You said what…what h-he said…"

Ice spread through his veins.

You bite me and you're dead.

He spun her around, cupping her face in his hands. "What did he do to you, Liv?"

She shook her head at the fear in his expression. "I t-told you. Nothing happened."

He looked back and forth between her eyes, unsure of whether or not to believe her.

"Fin got there in time."

"Liv-"

"It was close," she whispered. "Another couple of seconds and he w-would have…" she closed her eyes, her tears coating his palms.

"God, Liv, I just…if I'd known… I never…I never would have…" he trailed off.

She bit her lip.

"Liv," his voice broke. "Why…why didn't you tell me?"

She took in a shuddering breath. "I didn't…I didn't want you to think less of me," she admitted quietly.

"Think less of-" His heart broke. "Liv, look at me. Please look at me."

She forced herself to meet his gaze.

"I'd never think that. Never," he emphasized, the moonlight reflecting off of the tears in his eyes. "Why would you ever think that I could possibly-"

She looked away.

"Liv?"

She stared at his chest feeling utterly exhausted and defeated. She had already blurted out so many truths that she had never intended to reveal to him that she decided that it was too late to salvage any remnants of her dignity. She would tell him. She would tell him and he would know just how pathetic she was, and then she would walk away. He needed a partner that he could trust to have his back, not a basket case who couldn't even look after herself.

"You said it yourself, El. I need to be able to do my job. I should have known. I should never have let him bring me down there."

Elliot swallowed as the pain of the Gitano case came flooding back. "Liv, none of this was your fault." He would give anything to have been able to take back those words – words spoken in anger and panic in the face of truths that he had not yet been ready to recognize within himself. Once again Olivia was paying the price for his own shortcomings.

"Liv, when I…when I said those things-"

She cut him off, her voice thick with fatigue. "There was a moment, when he had me trapped… I gave up. I gave up, and all I kept thinking was that I wanted you to find me." She let out a sad laugh. "God, how pathetic is that?" When she had prayed for someone to find her, it hadn't been for Fin, it had been for Elliot, and he hadn't even been in the building.

"Liv-"

"And afterward I just kept thinking that you were right." She had needed someone to come to her rescue. She'd had a job to do, and she had failed.

He shook his head. "Liv, no."

"That's why I didn't tell you." Her voice wavered, barely above a whisper.

She pulled away from him, coming to sit on the edge of the futon, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Every single protective wall had been ripped away and she physically ached. She had no tears left to shed. She had nothing left at all.

"Olivia-" he tried again, but she was shutting down, pushing him away, retreating in the only way in which she could.

"Elliot, please don't. Please, just go. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know why I'm having these dreams. I don't know anything anymore. Just, please go back to bed. I'm fine – I'll be fine. I know what I promised you, and I promise I'll do better."

Like hell he was going anywhere. He approached her, lowering himself to sit on the coffee table directly opposite her bowed head. "What do you mean you promised me? Liv? What promise?"

"I told you… I told you I could handle this. And I can. I'll do better."

He sighed. He didn't have the foggiest idea of where to even begin to try to fix any of this. "Liv, you've been handling more than any one person should ever have to handle."

She said nothing, so he continued.

"I would do anything – anything – to take back those words I hurled at you…but I can't. I don't know what to do to make you believe me, but the only thing I've ever known is that you are the strongest person I've ever met."

She shook her head where it rested in her palms and let out an empty chuckle.

"Why do you do that? Why do you push yourself so hard?"

"Elliot, I've cried more in the past twenty-four hours than I've cried in all of the years you've known me."

"And you've had reason to."

"I'm hardly a pillar of strength."

"To me, you are."

She remained huddled over herself, and he couldn't bear it any longer.

"Liv, please look at me." He tentatively reached toward her, smoothing his hand over her hair until his fingers splayed along the nape of her neck. "You don't have to hide from me."

The warmth of his palm was simultaneously reassuring and painful, and she found it difficult to breathe. Even in the darkened room, the thought of looking up at him after all that she had disclosed was terrifying.

He felt her trembling ever so slightly. It was barely detectable, but it was there.

"El, I'm tired."

He smiled sadly at what was yet another attempt on her part to get him to leave.

"Liv, please don't push me away. I promise I won't ask you anything else tonight. I promise."

She slowly lifted her head and he let his hand fall away. She straightened but continued to avert her gaze. He reached out, taking both of her hands in his and running his thumbs along her wrists.

"It's, um… it's late," she said. She stared at their joined hands, chewing on her lower lip.

He nodded. After a pause, he stood, never releasing his grasp.

She finally looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest and confusion etched in her features.

"Stay with me tonight," he murmured. He hadn't gone back on his promise – not really. As much as he would never coerce her, he wasn't asking.

Her wide eyes returned his steady gaze, and before she could cycle through all of the reasons why this was a bad idea, she found herself standing and following him down the hallway toward his bedroom, her right hand nestled in his left. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at her as they reached the open doorway, silently confirming that she still wished to cross the threshold. She nodded and they continued, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering in through the windows the only thing illuminating their path. He released her hand at the bedside, placing a gentle palm on her lower back as he stepped aside. After a brief hesitation she climbed under the covers, sliding over to allow him the space to follow.

He began to spread up the covers, intending to lie on top of them when her voice stilled his movements.

"El?"

"Yeah?"

"It's…it's okay."

"Liv, I, uh…"

"El, I trust you."

He drew a hand along his jaw. Though he would never intentionally betray that trust, he wasn't altogether sure he could trust his body not to react to her presence. "Liv, I don't know…"

"El, it's your own bed. You should be comfortable."

He almost wanted to laugh. He had a feeling it would be difficult for him to get much sleep tonight regardless. "Okay."

She felt the cool rush of air as he lifted the covers and slid in beside her. They lay on their backs, both trying to relax. Olivia was looking up at the shadows cast on the ceiling, struggling to regulate her breathing. Eventually Elliot turned his head toward her, studying her profile.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." Her eyelids were heavy but she continued to fight to keep them open. A few moments passed before she added, "I, um…I don't know if I want to fall back asleep." She didn't want to have another nightmare, especially not if it would mean disturbing Elliot.

"Liv, you should try to get some rest."

"I know."

She sighed, shifting as she pulled the covers up to her chin. When she slipped her arms beneath, the back of her hand brushed against his. She left it there for a second longer than she probably should have before reluctantly sliding her hand closer to her side. A moment later she felt his fingers brush against hers, and she turned her head to face him, nervously meeting his gaze.

"I'm right here," he said, seeking the gaps in between her fingers as he curled his own against her palm. He had meant the comment to be reassuring, but the more he thought about things, the less certain he became. He raked his eyes over her face, knowing that he was the cause of so many of the fears plaguing her in her dreams. His brow furrowed. "I, uh… I don't know if that makes things better or worse."

She squeezed his fingers. "El, it makes things better. It does."

His throat felt tight and he turned his head away from her, once again facing the ceiling. His mind conjured up a jumbled blur of images and recollections from the night before. He remembered the fear and pain in her eyes, her anguished cries as she begged for him to stop, and his heart broke at the knowledge that this was what awaited her – tormenting her and preventing her from finding any peace. His eyes burned and he shut them, pinching the bridge of his nose against the moisture that threatened to form.

"Elliot, if you're going to blame someone, blame Nikolai. Please don't do this to yourself. I meant what I said. I've never blamed you for any of this – not now, not ever."

He cleared his throat. "Liv, I've been being selfish. You keep asking for space, and I keep crowding you."

She sighed. She didn't want the space. She just didn't want to get used to the proximity. "El, it's not…I don't…" she trailed off. She rubbed a hand over her face, leaving her hand there to shield her eyes – as if the room were too bright, or her thoughts too dangerous. "You're not crowding me. That's not the problem."

He wasn't sure what response he had been expecting, but it hadn't been that one. He let his hand fall back to his side, turning his head to study her once more. "Liv? What is the problem?" he asked softly. He stroked his thumb along the side of her hand, watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

She flattened her palm against her forehead, her eyes closed. "You said you weren't going to ask me anymore questions tonight," she whispered.

"I was hoping you would have forgotten about that," he replied through his smile.

She chuckled, peering at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Can't blame a guy for trying."

"I guess not."

They settled back into silence, gradually becoming aware of the gentle patter of rain against the windows. Olivia's breathing slowed, exhaustion beginning to claim her despite her struggles to stay awake.

"El?" she murmured.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Everything."

He turned toward her, tugging lightly on their joined hands to try to extricate his fingers from hers.

Her brow furrowed sleepily and she tightened her grasp.

He smiled, running his thumb reassuringly along the back of her hand. "I'm not going anywhere, Liv," he breathed, lifting their hands enough to slip his left palm beneath hers.

Only then did she relax enough to permit him to remove his right hand and he shifted, using his left to bring her arm across herself as he pulled her toward him. She rolled the rest of the way onto her side and he closed the remaining distance between them, his chest resting against her back. She made a contented noise as he gave a gentle squeeze with the arm encircling her waist.

"Liv?"

"Mm?"

"You gonna be mad at me for this tomorrow?"

"No."

He was quiet for a moment, listening to the rain and the sound of her breathing.

"Liv?"

"Mm?"

"You gonna let me do this again tomorrow?"

"It's a bad idea," she slurred.

He smiled against her hair. "Why?"

"You're asking questions," she responded grumpily, slightly more alert.

"Humor me."

"You're not playing fairly."

"I'm not playing," he replied softly.

She shivered and he rubbed his chin along her shoulder.

"Just is," she eventually responded, wondering if he could feel her heart slamming against her ribcage.

He sighed. He wouldn't push her. He'd promised not to. "Night, Liv."

"Night, El."