Author's comments: Can I just say, if anyone didn't know, I love these two together.

Trouble

Chapter 14

Elliot gripped the seat as the unmarked Impala sped down a crowded street. "Slow down, he's just right around the corner." When she kept up the same pace, he added, "Careful."

"We're good," she said through gritted teeth. "Hang on."

As if he could do anything other than that. Her driving, much like her behavior at home, was starting to frighten him, which made him wonder if she should have spent more time recovering before tackling work so soon. But the last thing he wanted to do was bring it up, after what happened the last time he did.

She had cut down on the drinking, and he gave her credit for that. He admired her bravery, knowing that if he had gone through half of what she had, he might never have left the house again. But her drive to find dangerous activities to take her mind off her PTSD worried him.

Especially after what had happened a few days ago, when they had tried to make love. Seeing the wild look in her eyes as she fought him off as if he was her rapist had been like ripping out his heart and throwing on the floor to stomp it to death. When she looked up at him, screaming for him to get off her, there was no way to connect with her, and the only thing he could do was watch helplessly as she curled up in a ball and cried. She was lost to him—lost in some hellish alternative world, and he couldn't coax or console her out of it with words or touch.

So now he couldn't help but wonder—could she go into a similar psychotic trance if something triggered her while on the job? He had a feeling he would soon find out. Her eyes were a bit crazed now, but she seemed to have her senses about her as they worked to track down a serial sexual predator who liked to grab women on the subway.

The perp had gone one step further with his last victim, following her home and trying to stab her with a knife on her way inside. Good police work had allowed them to track the man down to his place of work, and when a pair of unis went to collect him, he had run, which had started a flurry of activity at SVU, and Olivia had not wanted to miss out.

Tracking his activity over the police radio, Olivia had flown the car through city streets to be the one to nab him. Now Elliot gulped air, hoping she wouldn't cause an accident after word came over the radio that the man was seen on foot just a few blocks from their car. When they reached the corner where the suspect had been spotted, Olivia turned the Impala too fast, coming within five feet of a vendor on the sidewalk. Elliot opened his mouth to say something, but then bit his tongue.

This gritty, determined Olivia stood in stark contrast to the forlorn and wounded woman who had been sulking about in her apartment. Sure, the time they had spent re-connecting the bonds between them had been nice. The closeness and intimacy were an amazing added bonus to their re-unification, and he savored every kiss and embrace between them.

But he would also frequently enter the living room to find her curled up in her favorite chair, staring into the distance in complete silence. Sometimes, she didn't even notice his appearance in the room at first. At other times, she flinched as soon as he said her name, her eyes wide before she could regain composure. But she never let him see her that way for long, always putting on a poised front, her lips curling up into a crooked smile for his benefit.

Now that distant look in her eye had disappeared, replaced by unyielding resolve, wrinkles forming in her forehead as she stepped on the gas. "Remember," he said, bracing himself as she swerved around a taxi who had failed to yield for the blatant flashing lights and sirens, "this guy's holding a knife, and may be duel-wielding, so be careful."

"I already know that. There he is," she said, just before slamming on her brakes after spotting the man running past a bodega. Elliot held his hand out in front of him to stop his chest from ramming into the dashboard, casting a glance backward to make sure the cab didn't rear-end them. He bounced about a foot out of his seat as she pulled the car up over the curb and into the sidewalk, cutting the guy off.

Olivia threw open the door and bolted out of the car after the man, and Elliot flew out after her, close behind. When the perp saw Liv, he started to turn and run away, but quickly realized he was boxed in by construction scaffolding on the sidewalk. Instead of trying to run out in the street and into traffic, he turned to face Olivia, and now Elliot could see he had a knife in both hands.

"Hands in the air!" she yelled, reaching him with her gun drawn before Elliot could catch up. But the suspect didn't comply, and instead jabbed one knife into the space between them. Elliot couldn't believe his eyes when he saw what she did next. Tucking her gun back into its holster, she leaped through the air and tackled the guy to the ground.

When he saw her lying on top of him, unmoving, Elliot's mind went to the worst of places, and he raced to her side to see how badly she had been injured. But she sat up, grabbing one of the man's hands to wrestle it down. "Elliot, get his other hand," she said, and now he saw that while one knife had gone flying, the other hand still clutched a knife tightly in its grip.

Immediately, Elliot grabbed the knife-wielding hand and wrestled the knife away from the man. Then he helped Olivia get the guy's hands behind his back so she could handcuff him. Turning to her, he said, "Are you hurt?"

"Nah, I'm fine," she said as he helped her to her feet. "Just a skinned knee."

Instantly his concern turned to anger. "Well then, what the hell were you thinking? Why did you—"

"Nice bag, Sergeant," said Nick, patting her on the shoulder.

Fin came up behind them now, saying, "I can't believe you got the guy. You alright, Liv?"

"Yeah," she said, basking in their positive attention.

Elliot was none too happy with her actions, but he wasn't about to tell her off in front of her subordinates. After they loaded the suspect into a patrol car, he said, "I'll drive."

Once they were safely isolated within the confines of the car, he said, "What the hell was that?" She glowered at him as he continued, his voice raised. "You could have gotten killed. Why didn't you follow procedure?"

She turned her face away from him now, her lips forming a thin line. "I got him, didn't I?"

"Yeah, and you almost died in the process. You could have kept him at gunpoint."

"He wasn't complying."

"You could have shot him."

"With all the police shootings lately, I didn't want to be the next cop to shoot a man who only had a knife—"

"That's bullshit!" he shouted. "You didn't have to risk your life."

She met his rant with icy silence, staring out the passenger side window. She stayed that way all the way back to the squad room, giving him nothing. Once they were back at the station, he started to head back to his desk, but she brushed past him, saying, "Detective. In my office."

When they got inside, she shut the door and started in on him from behind her desk. "You don't get to tell me how to do my job." He glared at her across the desk, and she met his glare with a resolute look. Shaking her head, she waved one pointed finger between the two of them. "We aren't partners anymore. I'm your superior."

"Look, Liv, what you did was dangerous." After a pause, he said, "Have you even seen your therapist since he approved you to come back to work?"

"That is none of your business," she said, dropping her chin for emphasis. Her voice rose to a shout, her eyes burning. "And let's get something straight, Detective. You don't get to tell me what to do. And you don't get to chew me out anymore. We're not doing that again."

He began to pace in her office, one hand on his hip and the other on the back of his head. Glancing out the window separating her office from the flor, he saw several of the detectives casting fleeting, curious looks at her office.

"Do you understand me, Detective Stabler?" she said sternly. When he refused to answer, she said it even louder. "Detective—do you understand?"

He turned to face her, leaning over her desk as he said quietly, "Yeah, I got it." And then he strode out, picking up his coat as he passed by his chair so he could get some air.