Chapter Note:
As always...thank you for your patience. At times I feel like the characters are writing this, not me. Liv and El are vacillating between some pretty significant extremes of emotion. There's a lot to sift through - newness of their relationship, grief at the loss of Lara, moments of bliss interspersed with traumatic memories and regret...and a level of complete exhaustion. I hope people understand why there are tides of both grief and levity here. I think they can't be frozen in a place of grief right now, just as I don't think they can be frozen in a place of peace.
To those who left me feedback about the last chapter, thank you so, so very much for taking the time to do so. I held onto that chapter for so long, it felt deeply personal to post. (Also, thank you for refraining from coming after me with pitchforks and torches after the loss of Lara...I was worried that everyone would hate me.) xoxo, Jessica
Chapter Twenty-Five
They had fallen asleep in each other's arms, their bodies still connected. The feeling of peace had been so all-encompassing that neither had been willing to sever the connection. Elliot was the first to awaken, gradually drifting back to the present to become aware of the feel of Olivia nestled in his arms, the slow rise and fall of her chest against his, the weight of her head on his upper arm, and her warmth that enveloped him.
He raised his head, looking down at her with a mixture of reverence and awe. He didn't feel deserving of her, nor of this chance to make amends for all of the things he had done. Mind, body, and soul, she was the most beautiful and giving person that he had ever met. His love for her was so, incredibly, expansive in that moment that it almost moved him to the point of tears. He would do anything for her; anything to try to take some of the pain and loss away and absorb it as his own.
He lifted his hand from the curve of her back, the heat of his palm hovering over her cheek for a moment before delicately tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingertips just barely grazing her cheekbone. He lowered his head onto his pillow again, his lips resting against her forehead. He wanted to allow her to sleep, exhaustion having claimed her in the aftermath of the emotion of the day, but he couldn't stop himself from caressing her, his palm lightly smoothing down her side. Her skin was so soft…every inch of her like silk…and as the thought drifted into his mind, he couldn't help but think of the velvety depths of her that still surrounded him.
He felt a rush of heat flood through him, unsuccessfully attempting to rein in his thoughts as his body began to stir. He closed his eyes, trying to divert his focus to counting his breaths, but the thrum of his pulse was reverberating all the way through him, drawing attention to every point of connection in and around her and he swiftly lost any hope of being able to control his reaction to her presence. His hand reflexively tightened around her, his lips dragging lightly over her brow. His breathing quickened as he felt her internal muscles beginning to respond to him, a small utterance of pleasure escaping her lips even in her half-asleep reverie. The sound shattered the rest of his resolve, his pelvis rocking forward almost imperceptibly as she joined him in the present, her eyes fluttering open to meet his and immediately darkening with desire.
His name fell from her lips as an exhale, her hips moving against his in a slow, rocking motion as he pulsed and grew within her.
She tilted her head back seeking greater contact, and his lips skimmed down over the bridge of her nose to find her own. She immediately opened herself to him, allowing him to control the pace, the strokes of his tongue amplifying the warmth flowing through her. She moaned into his mouth, trying to press herself more closely against him and he enfolded her into a stronger embrace, his hand tangling into her hair.
The passion was building quickly this time, each feeling intoxicated by the presence of the other. The sensations were dictating their movements, the pleasure causing them to react instinctively and more freely than before, hands roving and their lower bodies easily finding a shared rhythm.
Elliot's arms tightened around her as he rolled over onto his back, and this time Olivia willingly followed, their mouths and torsos remaining connected as she rocked and moved on top of him. He held her down as he thrust upward, her inner muscles contracting around him in response as he penetrated her more deeply. She gasped, meeting him thrust for thrust with gentle motions of her own. Elliot's arms remained locked around her to hold her in place as he tried to somehow pull her even more closely to him. She braced her forearms on either side of his head, her forehead tilting to rest against his as she tried to catch her breath, but she was so sensitized from before that every movement he made within her was causing an intense feeling of warmth and pleasure to radiate from the inside out, rapidly propelling her toward the edge.
He felt her walls gripping onto him like a vise, heard the tinges of moans on her exhales with every upward motion of his hips. He groaned, trying to keep himself together as her name became an internal mantra in his head - as if he were trying to convince himself that this was truly happening.
Olivia.
It still felt like a dream. He was inside of her. It was Olivia's breaths falling against his skin...her movements...her depths...her heat...
She was trying to hold herself back, trying to stifle the sounds of pleasure that his actions were eliciting, but the sensations he was causing were overwhelming, her body writhing against his beyond her conscious control.
"El, God, I..."
"I know," he rasped. "Don't hold back."
She cried out as his hips shifted, his pelvis pressing against her as he continued to rock inside of her, withdrawing only minimally as he thrust upward again, and again, and again, touching the deepest parts of her.
Elliot groaned, losing his own control as he felt her start to fall, her cries becoming more desperate, her inner muscles clutching onto him even more tightly until she froze in place for a moment, her head falling forward over his shoulder as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. He held out for as long as he could to prolong her high, rocking into her a few more times, his utterances of exertion mixing with her moans before the pleasure overtook him and he buried himself to the hilt, his arm around her waist and his hand clutching onto her nape, holding her in his embrace as he shuddered and jerked beneath her.
Neither of them were able to formulate words. They were each caught up in a haze of emotion and bliss. Olivia remained draped over him, Elliot supporting her body with his own. His arms were holding her flush against him, though she had absolutely no intention nor desire to move away from him. She felt the rise and fall of his chest beneath her, the weight of his arms making her feel protected and secure.
I've never felt safer in my life.
She had meant for the words to reassure Elliot, but in that moment she was struck by how deeply truthful they were. She had never felt this degree of calm before, even in the aftermath of so much trauma and loss. It was a degree of peace that came from the knowledge that she was with the one person that truly understood - not just an understanding of all that they'd endured, but of what it meant that they were finally here.
Their collective breathing was gradually evening, the pulse of their intimate connection and her gentle flutters around him gradually waning. She buried her head further into the warmth of his neck and shoulder, her lips brushing his skin. "I love you so much, El," she murmured shakily.
Elliot nodded against her, still struggling to find his voice, his thumb dragging soothingly back and forth along her neck.
Olivia thought back to the rare moments in their partnership when they'd sought the comfort of one another's embrace. They had never permitted themselves to linger in the moment, perhaps recognizing the layers of emotion communicated in the gesture and the inherent danger of opening themselves up to the depths that existed below the fragile boundary they had established. In those moments, they had each felt it - the yearning for more; the recognition of the bond that tethered them to one another more deeply than they were allowed to acknowledge.
Olivia breathed in his scent, trying to commit every aspect of their connection to memory. To each of them, it was this night that felt like their first intimate experience with one another, calm taking the place of the conflicted jumble of emotions wrought from the night of the undercover.
Several long minutes passed before Elliot loosened his hold, as if he were only just registering the strength of his grasp. "Sorry," he murmured, his left hand skimming soothingly along her spine as his right lifted from her nape to gently sift through her hair. "I know we have to move, but I just..."
She smiled against his neck. "Want to stay here forever?"
"Yeah, does that work for you?" he spoke through his own smile.
She breathed a laugh. "Yeah, it does."
Elliot placed a kiss on her temple, his lips skimming down her cheek as Olivia raised her head just far enough to be able to make eye contact with him once more. They shared a lingering look, Elliot's hand slipping from her hair to cup her cheek in his palm.
"I love you," he said softly, his tone matching the quiet that had descended upon them.
Olivia closed the slight distance, lowering her head to brush her lips against his as both of Elliot's hands lifted to frame her face; caressing her as lightly as the slow, gentle kisses they were trading. The rain was still falling, the sound of it against the windowpanes occasionally drifting into their awareness, only to get lost again as they lost themselves in each other.
It was Olivia who eventually reluctantly pulled back, her forehead tipping against his.
"You ready to get up?" Elliot murmured.
"No."
He smiled again at the defiance in her tone.
"But...yes," she continued with a light sigh. "I need to."
He nodded.
"I wish we could, you know? Stay here forever."
Elliot heard the tinge of melancholy behind her words and he sought to combat it temporarily with humor. "Give me a minute and we'll be back here again," he rumbled suggestively.
Olivia chuckled. "You're awfully sure of yourself, Stabler," she teased, her eyes sparkling down at him.
"Yeah I am," he replied with no shame, his trademark smirk on his face.
He used his abdominal muscles to help ease them both upright, her arms loosely draped over his shoulders and his hands finding the dips of her waist. He was relishing these last few moments of intimate connection with her. In fact, he had never felt this level of reluctance to separate. They had weathered so much to arrive at this point, and having finally been able to love her the way he had always wanted to - physically and emotionally - he felt a pang of sadness at his inability to keep them insulated in this moment of peace. He didn't want to let her go.
This time Olivia caught sight of the telling look in his eye, and she, too, wanted to offer reassurance. "You have me, El," she said softly, her right forearm lifting from his shoulder so that she could cup his cheek in her palm, her thumb lightly dragging over the stubble that dotted his jaw. She bowed her head to touch her lips to his, their kiss tender and filled with the words that no longer needed to be spoken.
He swept his eyes over her face as they drew apart, his voice gravelly and filled with emotion. "And I am the luckiest man." He paused in contemplation. "I never thought..." he shook his head slightly, "to be with you, Liv...it's..." It felt like a dream.
She nodded, whispering her understanding against his lips before kissing him one last time. They lingered in that moment, their hands caressing one another with reverence and love, and when they drew apart, she held his gaze to prepare each of them, waiting for his nod before raising herself up from his lap just enough for him to finally slip from between her legs. She swallowed at the sensation, suddenly recalling the feeling of emptiness that she had felt in the club and in the shower that night upon their return to her apartment.
The expression of loss that flitted across her features was almost imperceptible, but they were still so close to one another that Elliot recognized it immediately, his brow furrowing in concern.
"Hey," he soothed, one hand squeezing the base of her neck and the other stroking her back. "You have me too, Liv. Always."
She attempted a smile but was still trapped in the memory. She had thought she would never feel complete again - thought that the ephemeral glimpses of what might have been that had occasionally broken through the fear were the only moments that she would have to cling to in the aftermath.
"Talk to me," he whispered.
She tried to shrug it off to lessen the significance. "It's nothing. That night...I just...felt empty."
"I'm so sorry, Liv."
She shook her head adamantly against the pain in his eyes. "It wasn't anything you did, El. It wasn't...wasn't that." She sighed, dropping her gaze. "Like you said, El. I never thought we'd be here, so I thought..." she trailed off, dropping her voice to an even quieter volume. "I thought I'd never feel you again...never be with you again, and even though it unfolded the way it had, I felt..."
"Like you'd lost everything," he finished knowingly, her eyes lifting to meet his again in surprise. "Me too, Liv. And I felt like the biggest asshole - feeling sorry for myself after everything I'd put you through."
One side of her lips lifted in a wry smile. "Would have been nice if either one of us had talked about this then."
Elliot chuckled. "We don't talk."
"No, I guess we don't."
Elliot kissed her forehead. "Didn't talk," he amended. "We do now..."
She nodded, responding after a pause. "I think we did the best we could, El. I wasn't ready to admit some things to myself then, let alone to you."
He enfolded her into an embrace, noting the way in which their bodies always seemed to fit so perfectly together. "I'll make you a deal. I promise to try to stop keeping these things from you, if you promise to do the same?"
"Yeah."
He placed a kiss on the juncture of her neck and shoulder, breathing her in. "Please trust me, Liv. You never have to hide anything from me." He wished she could understand that every single thing that she had revealed to him throughout the case and the aftermath had made him love and respect her even more. He had told her she was the strongest person he knew, and that had never been more present in his mind.
"I do trust you, El."
"Okay," he replied, clearing his throat against the tightness. Why she trusted him after all that he had put her through, he would never understand, but he was infinitely grateful for it.
Elliot scooted them forward toward the edge of the bed until his feet met the floor, supporting her weight and helping her up as he stood with her, his arms still wrapped around her. Olivia's legs were stiff after kneeling over him for as long as she had been, and she made a mental note of his wordless understanding and attentiveness that seemed to have heightened even more than before.
They traded a few gentle kisses until she slowly backed away a few paces, feeling a rush of heat and happiness as she caught the appreciative glint in his eye as he tried and failed to prevent himself from trailing his eyes over her body. She smiled subtly, acknowledging her awareness of his focus with a slight arch of her brow before she turned and headed off in the direction of the bathroom.
Elliot stood frozen in place as he heard the click of the door shutting behind her, once again feeling like the luckiest bastard on the planet as the recollections of their intimate moments together flowed through his mind. He shook his head in attempts to clear it, pulling on a pair of sweats before emerging into the hall and heading into the kitchen. He flipped on the overhead light, blinking against the brightness, which was jarring not only by nature of the brightness itself but also because it illuminated all of the jagged shards of broken glass that littered the floor. His heart clenched, the reality of the loss and its impact upon Olivia fully settling in once more. After a brief search, he found a dustpan and hand broom in the far closet, and he worked to carefully sweep up all of the pieces that he could find, worrying still that some smaller pieces might be remaining but doing his best to make it safe again. Once that was taken care of, he cast his eyes around the opposite side of the kitchen, stooping to pick up Olivia's cell phone and the battery that had ejected itself as it hit the floor. He reassembled them and pushed the power button to see if it was still functional, and a short time after the screen came back to life, displaying a missed call and voicemail from Cragen. He assumed the news about Lara had filtered back to the 1-6 from the hospital or M.E.'s office.
He crossed the room to check his own phone and he, too, had missed a call from Cragen, though he had not received a voicemail. He opted to make outreach first, wanting to spare Olivia from having to have that conversation if at all possible. He heard the hiss of the shower and assumed it was a safe time to do so, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly as he raised the phone to his ear.
"Cragen," came the voice after the second ring.
"Cap, it's Elliot," he said with some hesitancy.
There was a beat of silence on the other line, and he assumed that Cragen was equally struggling to figure out how to put the situation into words.
"Elliot, I spoke with the M.E. up in Westchester..."
"Yeah," Elliot replied with fatigue. "Olivia called a few hours ago," he lied. "It's...it's been a rough night."
"Are you with her now?" Cragen asked.
There was no hint of accusation in his tone, only worry.
"Yeah, Cap. I headed over as soon as I heard."
More silence ensued, any number of unspoken questions filling the space.
"She's...okay," Elliot continued. "This one hit hard."
Cragen sighed, and Elliot could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Nobody wanted this outcome."
Elliot remained silent this time, unsure of what to say, his feelings of failure related to Lara and guilt at misleading his commanding officer making him feel more on edge than he might otherwise have been.
"You did all that you could, Elliot. None of this is on you."
Elliot swallowed before answering, but was unable to keep his voice as steady as he'd have liked. "I know, Cap," he rasped, replaying Nikolai's elbow to his throat over and over in his mind.
"It goes with out saying that both of you are taking time. I don't want to see you here. At the very least until your arm is healed, and as for Olivia-"
"You know how she is...but I'll try."
"Thanks for the call. We'll handle things from here."
Elliot nodded as if Cragen could see his response, and after a few moments of silence, he heard the line disconnect. He scrubbed a palm over his face, staring in the direction of the spot in which Olivia had been standing when she received the fateful call. How they would be able to let this one go, he wasn't sure. He just prayed that time would attenuate their feelings of culpability and loss.
As much as he was struggling with Lara's death, he was infinitely more concerned about Olivia. He felt powerless to ameliorate things, so he continued to focus on trying to accomplish the few things that were within his control - Olivia's physical well-being being one of them. She had barely eaten anything all day, Lara's emotional needs having taken precedence. He wandered over to peer into the mostly empty fridge and then quickly checked the time - a little after 10:00pm. It was late, but he opted to make that call to the local Chinese food place after all. By the grace of the perks of Manhattan, they were still open and he rattled off the list of their usuals to be given a twenty minute window. He clicked off the overhead light again, leaving the illumination to the small table lamp Olivia had turned on earlier, and immediately found himself breathing a bit easier. He needed the calm as much as Olivia did tonight.
The shower had shut off some time ago and he was glad, as it hopefully meant that she would soon be emerging. He stared out of the window, trying to distract himself as he waited. He was craving her proximity like nothing else at the moment. He needed to know she was okay. Needed to be able to see her, hold her, to reassure his anxious mind.
Just as the urge to check on her intensified to an almost overwhelming degree, he heard the sound of her footsteps padding down the hall. He turned in search of her and immediately lost the power of speech as she walked toward him wearing his USMC T-shirt. Just his USMC shirt. The hemline fell to her upper thighs, covering her, technically...but all he could see were her long, bare legs that disappeared beneath the fabric of her shirt...his shirt. Miles and miles of toned skin that led to...what? Was she wearing anything beneath it?
He was brought back to reality by her amused chuckle. She had paused approximately four feet away, her arms crossed beneath her breasts and her head cocked to the side. It wasn't that she was immune to his effects on her either - she had been able to garner a good eyeful of his bare chest while he was distracted by her attire; yet the expression on his face was such that she wondered if he were remembering to breathe at all.
"You okay over there, Stabler?" she teased.
He absently scraped his teeth over his lower lip, still too distracted to respond to her light provocation.
"Liv, when you said you wore the shirt...were you...did you uh..."
A slight smile graced her lips, the timbre of her voice changing into something softer, sultry even. "Was I wearing it like this?"
He drew a hand along his jaw, lacking the capacity for a verbal response.
The look in his eyes was sparking a flicker of want within her again, and although she had been the one doing the teasing, she suddenly felt as though he were the one on solid ground.
Her voice quieted even more, just barely audible over the sound of the rain. "Sometimes."
She watched as his eyes darkened, his gaze drifting over her and eliciting goosebumps as she could almost feel the intensity of it on her skin.
Her breathing quickened as he slowly closed the distance, feeling an electricity between them that was different than the one she had felt as he had stalked toward her at the club, but just as powerful. She involuntarily licked her lips, reflexively taking a half step back as he came to stand a foot in front of her, her back grazing the edge of the island counter that divided the space.
His right hand lifted to comb through her damp locks, his fingers then trailing out again to graze her jawline, his thumb tracing her lower lip. His voice had dropped an octave as well, mesmerizing her as effectively as the look in his eyes. "So...you wore this. Just like this..."
"Sometimes," she repeated, barely above a whisper.
"And what would I find beneath it?" he asked, his hand continuing its lazy exploration, lightly drifting over her shoulder, his fingertips skimming down the length of her arm, his thumb simultaneously brushing along the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip...until his warm palm curved around her thigh.
She didn't respond to the question, her breathing shallow and her lips slightly parted to accommodate her frequent exhales.
His eyes locked onto hers, holding her captive by the heat of his gaze and the position of his body before her. His hand shifted again, gently massaging her before slowly smoothing over the front of her thigh and down to the top of her knee, and then he reversed course, the backs of his fingers slowly trailing upwards along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His hand slowed even further as it disappeared beneath the fabric of his shirt, skimming higher and higher until his fingertips grazed her bare center.
She sucked in a breath, his fingers trailing over the wetness he found there, his left hand lifting to hold onto her waist, keeping her steady as he teased her opening with slow, gentle strokes.
"Detective Benson," he murmured, continuing the motion of his hand. "You stole my personal property...you wore this without my permission...and you lied to a fellow officer of the law when asked a direct question as to its whereabouts... Isn't that a fact?"
"Yes," she hissed as he slowly pushed a finger inside of her.
"So...the way I see it... That's petit larceny..."
She bit back a moan as his thumb swiped over her clit.
"And making a false statement..."
"It w-wasn't under oath," she managed.
His lips quirked. "Are you arguing with me, Detective?" He added another finger.
She shook her head, stifling another moan.
"I would hate to have to add a charge of disorderly conduct..." He curled his fingers, slowly dragging them along her inner wall as his thumb continued its gentle ministrations.
"God, El..." her hands reached out to steady herself against his chest, her head tipping forward to rest against his shoulder.
He wrapped his arm more securely around her waist, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as he spoke against her. "This okay, Liv?" he asked quietly, all teasing removed from his tone.
"God, yes..." she gasped, his fingers now perpetually and rhythmically moving within her, her walls tightening around him more with every passing moment.
He drew her against him as closely as possible, her arms wrapping around his neck.
"You're so beautiful, Liv," he murmured, his lips brushing her temple. "I love you so much."
What had started out as something playful had quickly transformed into something much more intimate again. The depth of emotion that tethered them to one another had intensified in the wake of their earlier lovemaking, and now that the floodgates were open, neither of them were able to contain the magnitude of it all.
Olivia's cheek was pressed against the column of his throat, her eyes closed as she allowed him to support her, enveloped by his warmth and his scent as much as by the reassuring weight of his arm around her waist. His movements within her were gentle, and the soft sounds that fell from her lips matched the quiet atmosphere of the moment.
Elliot was overcome by a sense of protectiveness and devotion. She was completely relaxed against him, trusting him with all of herself as she allowed him to take control. As before, it was the knowledge of what it meant that she was placing her trust in his hands that was perhaps the most meaningful to him. Her defenses were down, she was completely open, and this privilege was his and his alone.
Her hips were subtly moving against his hand, her arms holding onto him more tightly as the sensations he was evoking began to consume her.
His hand shifted and she gasped, the heel of his hand continuously rubbing against her and his fingers applying a constant pressure against her most sensitive spot within.
"El," she said breathlessly, her inner muscles tightening around him.
"I've got you."
She gasped again, feeling the pleasure build and build.
"That's it," he breathed, continuing to whisper words of reassurance as she rapidly approached the edge.
She came undone with a soft cry, her knees buckling but barely registering as he continued to support her weight.
He continued to hold her, feeling the slight tremors in her body and her rhythmic pulses around his fingers gradually ebb away. Her hips jerked forward slightly as he ultimately withdrew his hand and he placed a kiss against her temple, wrapping her up more securely with both of his arms. He shifted his weight ever so slightly from side to side, breathing in the familiar fragrance of her damp hair.
"I love you," he said, emphasizing his words with a gentle squeeze.
"Love you too, El," she murmured somewhat shakily, still trying to regain her bearings.
"You okay?" he asked softly, his left hand lifting to smooth over her hair. He was inwardly chastising himself for his lack of control. He had hardly given her any time to recover before touching her again, all willpower having flown out of the window the moment he had seen her standing before him. She was intoxicating. He wondered how he had ever successfully managed to prevent himself from touching her for so long.
She smiled against his collarbone. "More than okay."
"When I saw you, I just..."
"Elliot, I'm fine," she soothed.
He pulled back to look into her eyes, needing to read her expression. "Liv, you'll tell me, right? If I ever...if-"
She kissed him...stealing his words and his thoughts and his breath. The contact was light, but full of emotion, her palm flattening against his cheek. Her thumb caressed his cheekbone as she drew back, dragging her lips against his one last time before holding his gaze. "Yes," she replied huskily. "Always."
The wave of anxiety that had gripped him had dissipated at her words and her touch, but an awareness had struck him at the conflict warring within him as he struggled to navigate their traumatic past and present longing. He had reacted impulsively earlier, swept up in a haze of desire.
Olivia took in his silence and the slightly detached look in his eyes. She looked back and forth between them, continuing to lightly caress his cheek in attempts to reach him. "Elliot what do you need to ask me?" she tried.
"Nothing, Liv. I just...I should have checked in with you sooner." She opened her mouth to respond, but he quickly continued. "I know you're okay. I believe you, Liv. But I should have been more...mindful," he concluded after searching for the word. One side of his lips lifted into somewhat of a sheepish smile. "In all honesty, I wasn't really thinking at all."
"And you think I was?" she teased.
He made a gesture of somewhat hesitant acknowledgment, his hand tracing slow circles along her lower back. "Liv...I backed you into the counter," he said with some chagrin.
"El, did it feel like I wasn't into it?" she asked gently, her expression equal parts earnest and loving.
He cleared his throat at the recollections that drifted back into his mind. "No, but..." he paused, his tone falling serious again. "You backed away, Liv."
"Not from fear, El."
"I should have checked in with you then," he said evenly.
She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, stepping into him again and wrapping him back up into an embrace. "I'll tell you if I need a moment, El. If something makes me uncomfortable, I promise I'll let you know."
"Okay."
They fell silent for a moment, lost in their respective thoughts.
Something had resonated for Olivia in a different way at their exchange. Elliot's words had given her a glimpse of an uncertainty that he typically kept hidden. Over the course of their partnership, he'd always come across as decisive and sure. Right or wrong, his opinions and decisions carried an air of confidence - a stubborn refusal, frequently, to bend in his convictions once he had made up his mind about something. It had led to countless battles of wills over the years. Yet as Olivia reflected back over the tone of their conversations tonight, an awareness dawned at just how much conflict churned beneath the surface. He had agonized over aspects of their traumatic encounter in the club, not just emanating from a place of guilt or concern for her well-being, but from a place of apprehension that he had made the wrong decisions - that the choices he had made had somehow made things worse. Olivia's heart clenched at the realization of just how profoundly difficult it must have been for him to make those split second decisions without having been able to check in with her. She had been too consumed by fear that night to fully comprehend what a tremendous weight of responsibility he had carried on his shoulders. She needed him to understand that he didn't have to carry that burden alone anymore - that she now had the ability to make those decisions with him.
"We're not in that room anymore, Elliot," she said softly. "I have my voice back."
He nodded against her. "Yeah, you do."
She kissed his neck, her hand cupping the back of his head as she lightly raked her nails over his scalp. "Trust me?"
"I do, Liv."
They continued to hold one another, once again finding a degree of peace in their physical connection that was more elusive when they were apart. The calm in that moment was so pervasive that Olivia almost jumped out of her skin when the buzzer sounded, alerting them to the presence of the deliveryman at the front door.
"I'm sorry," Elliot soothed at her startle response. "I should have mentioned that I ordered us some Chinese after all."
Olivia hadn't been aware that she was hungry, drowned out by the events of the evening, but at the mention of food, she felt the hunger pangs come back to life. "Thanks," she said, raking a hand through her hair. "Do you need-"
"Nah," he preemptively shook his head. "I've got it."
He crossed the room to buzz the guy in out of the rain, letting him know he'd run down, and when he turned back again he couldn't help himself from taking in the vision Olivia presented before him.
"I'll just be a minute then," she replied, cocking her head toward the hall.
A mischievous glint sparkled in Elliot's eyes, one side of his mouth lifting into a sly smile. "Y'know, I should probably throw a shirt on..." he mused, eyeing the shirt that covered her frame and arching a brow. "Can I have mine back?"
He broke into a grin before he'd been able to finish his question, the withering glare that Olivia had attempted to shoot in his direction also falling flat on account of her inability to conceal her amusement.
"No," she said flatly with narrowed eyes, her own smile breaking free as she turned to walk back down the hall.
Elliot chuckled, pulling on the damp fleece that was hanging by the front door and going to retrieve their food.
Olivia had taken over as soon as he got back upstairs, giving him a moment to take a quick shower while she brought things to the living room. She smiled lightly, recalling Elliot's reaction to her attire - having pulled on a pair of sweatpants beneath his T-shirt this time.
"Trying to save me from myself, Benson?" he had asked.
"Just helping us get through dinner, Stabler," she'd replied with a smirk, taking the bag from him and watching him peel off the fleece once more. She had stared at his bare torso again, taking advantage of his moment of distraction while he was working to right the sleeves. "If you're hungry," she'd added as he turned to hang it back up, "you might want to follow suit."
Her statement had been made casually, heading into the other room before he'd had a chance to process her words, but she'd heard his light laughter as he disappeared down the hall.
Olivia shook her head at the recollection, struck by how much had changed for them in such a short period of time. It felt natural - the progression of their everyday banter and rapport into more flirtatious territory. Comfortable. Similarly, although new, the development of their physical relationship hadn't created awkwardness or tension. In fact, it felt as though a deeply rooted tension had finally dissipated. After so many years of locking feelings away, and after having endured so much pain and trauma in their recent past, their ability to be physically intimate was healing in a way that transcended that which any amount of words could accomplish. For once, they could love one another with all of themselves.
She heard the shower shut off, depositing plates and utensils onto the coffee table before making one last trip to the kitchen in search of beverages; yet when she opened the cupboard to retrieve some glasses, she was suddenly overcome by a wave of grief. She stood there, frozen, staring at the glasses, remembering the last moments of normalcy before receiving the call that had changed everything. Her throat felt tight and her chest constricted, the act of breathing becoming almost painful. Memories of her time with Lara flooded back with a vengeance, as did her regret for not having been there in the end. She fought against the tears that were re-forming, the glasses blurring and churning before her.
Elliot emerged from the hall, quietly taking in the scene before him. Her body language was rigid, her jaw set resolutely against another breakdown. He remained still for a moment and then slowly began to approach her, knowing that she was unaware of his presence and not wanting to startle her. He came to stand to her left, facing her side as she continued to focus straight ahead.
"Liv," he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.
She closed her eyes.
"Leave the glasses. We don't need them."
He reached for her, tenderly tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before curling his palm around her nape.
She tried to clear her throat against the tightness, but still didn't chance an attempt to speak. Part of her wanted to throw the rest of the glasses against the wall, one after another after another until nothing was left to remind her of that moment. As the thought entered her mind, she belatedly realized that Elliot had taken care of the aftermath of her earlier outburst, getting rid of the shards that covered the floor so that she wouldn't have to revisit the memory. It had been yet another attempt on his part to protect her.
She felt as he shifted to stand behind her, his right arm reaching around her to cover her hand with his own. He brushed his thumb along her knuckles to coax her to loosen her grasp before pushing the cupboard door closed. His hand captured hers as soon as she released the handle, interlocking their fingers and curling his against her palm as he wrapped her up into an embrace.
He said nothing; he just gave her time, his left arm around her waist and their joined arms folded into her chest. He paid attention to her intermittent pressured breathing, her back moulded to his chest, and it was as if he could hear the thoughts and emotions racing through her mind. He bowed his head, placing a lingering kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. A short time after, he felt her take in a deeper breath, her head tilting back to rest against him and he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.
"Okay," she said after another minute or two, the word emerging as an exhale.
He nodded against her, waiting until she lifted her head again before relaxing his hold, but when she pivoted to face him she looked so melancholy that he immediately pulled her back into his arms - more tightly this time, feeling her breathing become uneven once more. She was trying to rein herself in and he knew he was making it harder for her to lock her emotions away, but he needed to hold her.
"We need to drink something, El," she said somewhat brokenly.
"You have beer," he replied against her, his hand stroking her hair.
"I have beer?"
He smiled at the tinge of hopefulness in her tone. Beer meant no glasses were required. "Yeah, I checked earlier. You have two bottles left from the other night."
"Oh thank God..." she murmured under her breath, feeling his smile broaden at her words. "It's stupid, I know. I just..."
"It's not stupid, Liv. I get it." He kissed her temple and then slid his arms apart. He allowed her to pull away, but one hand lingered in her hair. He swept his eyes over her face seeking confirmation that she was calm before touching his lips to hers. The contact was light, a means to convey compassion and solidarity, and when he drew back, his eyes held the same sentiments. "Go on and get comfortable. I'll grab the beer."
She nodded, folding her arms across her chest as she made her way into the living room. She took a seat on the floor in front of the couch, her legs stretched out beneath the coffee table. When he joined her, she realized that they had effectively recreated their positions from the night that they had taken the photographs - Elliot to her right, Chinese food before them.
"Déjà vu," she said as Elliot handed her her beer.
Elliot considered her words for a moment, a beer poised at his lips, recognition dawning as he exhaled a slight laugh against the opening. He took a swig, shaking his head lightly as he set the bottle down on the table. He snaked his left arm around her shoulders tugging her against him lightly as he kissed the side of her head. "Not everything's the same, Benson," he said, his hand sifting through her hair briefly before he brought his arm back to his side.
"No," she murmured wistfully, staring absently at the plate in front of her. Eight days. Eight days since she'd learned he was single. Eight days since the first boundaries were crossed. It was hard to believe all that they had endured in little more than a week.
"I felt like such an asshole that night," Elliot said, doling out some fried rice for each of them.
She turned her head over her shoulder, surprised by the admission. "The photos weren't your call, Elliot," she reminded him.
"Yeah, I know," he replied with fatigue, reaching over to grab the container of chicken and broccoli. "But I pulled the rug out from under you that night, Liv. And then I pushed you past your comfort zone." He finished serving her before putting some on his own plate.
"None of that was your fault, El," she said, running a hand along his thigh.
"Someone else was cuffing you to that bed?" he said heatedly, setting the carton down.
She shifted to face him, her left hand reaching around to his opposite cheek as she gently but firmly made him meet her gaze. "I told you what that was, and it had nothing to do with you."
He shrugged somewhat dismissively. "All the same..."
She sighed, frustration creeping back in as she let her hand fall away. "All the same nothing, El. Honestly? Even if the cuffs hadn't come into the picture, something else likely would have set me off. And it would have had nothing to do with you and everything to do with the fact that I hadn't-". She stopped abruptly, she hadn't talked to him about the preceding months and hadn't intended to do so. She sighed again. "Never mind."
She took a sip of her beer, running a palm back and forth along her forehead as she waited for the inevitable questioning to come.
"Liv?"
There it was...the start of many that would continue until he got the answers he sought. She should have kept her mouth shut. She rested her beer on her knee, leaning back against the couch with a mixture of resignation and fatigue. "Nothing, El," she said quietly. "I just hadn't let anyone be physically close to me since Sealview... You and me in a squad car?" She let out a laugh that was devoid of all humor. "Yeah, that was probably the closest anyone had come." She picked at the label on the bottle, her voice lowering even more. "That night...with you...it had less to do with trust and more to do with feeling confined. The sound of metal against metal brought me back, but even without that specific trigger, I probably..." she trailed off, genuinely trying to figure out a way to put the feeling into words. She shrugged. "It's not a rational thing, El...but a visceral one."
He nodded. "I felt sick that night, Liv. I couldn't sleep. I just kept thinking of the look in your eyes." He exhaled bitterly. "Fuckin' child's play compared to what I put you through the night of the undercover. I had no fucking clue."
"Neither one of us did." There was no challenge in her tone, only understanding.
They sat in silence for a while, lost in their respective thoughts. She took another drink and then set the bottle back on the table, returning her palm to his thigh and giving him a light squeeze above his knee. She stared at the fabric of his sweats, her thumb running along a fold in the cotton.
"El," she said softly. "You need to know...if you hadn't been there - if this had happened with anyone else - I wouldn't be okay right now." From her peripheral vision she saw him turn his head over his shoulder to look at her, but she continued to look down. "So, you can beat yourself up, but I wish you understood that throughout this ordeal, you have literally been the one thing keeping me from completely falling apart."
Elliot wrapped his arm around her shoulders again, coaxing her to shift more closely against him. She rested her head on his chest and he snaked his right arm in front of her to cup her opposite cheek in his palm. His thumb stroked her skin, his head tilting to rest on top of hers.
Several long minutes went by before he felt her smile against him.
"You put on your undershirt," she said, suddenly becoming aware of the presence of the white cotton beneath her cheek.
"I was promised dinner," he replied through his smile.
"No one is stopping you from eating."
"Says the very beautiful woman with her head on my chest."
She opted not to point out the fact that he was the one who had initiated the contact, and instead reluctantly straightened with a slight grumble. They remained in close proximity, their sides and limbs brushing against each other as they attempted to turn their attention to their dinner. Neither had eaten a true meal all day and although the food was now lukewarm at best, the sustenance was welcome.
When they finished, they shoved the leftovers in the fridge and deposited the plates and utensils in the sink, neither one of them caring to do more than the basic necessities given the late hour. Instead, they curled up on the couch in a similar position to their one on the floor, Elliot's arm around Olivia, her head resting against him and her legs folded to the side. Elliot was nursing the remnants of Olivia's beer that she'd handed his way, his feet propped up on the coffee table.
They had fallen back into silence, once again listening to the sound of the rain. It had attenuated somewhat, still falling steadily but more gently than before. It had a somewhat meditative effect, ever-present but not intrusive. While the sound itself might have lulled them into calm, it also lent itself to a contemplative mood, and given all that they had been through, the thoughts that cycled through their minds were complicated and tumultuous.
They had been trying to hold onto the feeling of peace that had settled upon them after their intimate moments together. It hadn't been a permanent escape from the weight of the present, but they had wanted to cling to the lighthearted mood for as long as it lasted. The blissful moments had added yet another layer of complexity to all that they were trying to process. In some ways, this had been one of the best nights of their lives, but in others, the most damaging. It was difficult for each of them to reconcile the two extremes, waves of emotion crashing into them from all sides.
It was impossible to come to terms with where they were now without thinking about the beginning, and although unspoken, both of their thoughts had returned to the night of the undercover. Flashes of recollections asserted themselves in their minds with a piercing clarity, yet this time they were centered upon all that they had witnessed rather than what they themselves had endured. They remembered the feeling of foreboding in the atmosphere; the pervasive darkness in the club that felt oppressive and sinister. They thought of the number of women and girls that had been subjected to untold levels of torment within those walls. They had witnessed a handful of assaults - the pole dancer on the stage, the women behind the glass - but they now knew the numbers of those affected had been much, much greater.
That knowledge should have given them some solace. Their actions that night had led to the identification and apprehension of an extensive network of perpetrators and to the rescue of so many victims. Their impact would be far-reaching - an accomplishment that was much greater than their attempts to save a single little girl. But the outcome felt hollow to each of them.
Lara had always been much more than a number. Somewhere along the line, she had become the embodiment of the hope that the war they waged on a daily basis was worth it. That their efforts weren't in vain. That compassion and empathy could restore trust in a world that had otherwise been proven to contain nothing but pain and suffering. Lara had experienced the worst, yet she had shown each of them a strength of spirit and resiliency that had made each of them want to stay in the fight. She had wanted to survive. She had wanted to heal.
That was perhaps the most bitter pill to swallow. It was unfathomable that her chance had been stolen from her.
Olivia's arm was draped over Elliot's chest and she slipped it around him even further to hold onto him more securely.
"I'm glad that you're here, El," she said, her voice choked with emotion. "I don't know what I would have done if..." She trailed off, unsure of what followed. If he were just her partner? If she'd gotten the call and had been completely alone?
Elliot set his bottle aside, wrapping her up with both of his arms to hold her more closely against him. "It's the same for me, Liv," he said. "I don't know if you realize how much I need you too." He kissed the top of her head, one of his hands running along her arm. "I should tell you that more often."
Olivia closed her eyes, fighting to suppress the images of Lara that immediately sprang to mind and tried, instead, to focus on the rise and fall of Elliot's chest beneath her. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. "I'm so tired, El."
He heard the waver in her tone and immediately understood the broader meaning behind her words. "I know," he rasped.
He shifted his hand to cup her cheek in his palm, his thumb periodically swiping away the silent tears that were escaping. Her breathing was even, there was nothing overt that would have drawn his attention to their presence, but he knew her, and these tears were emanating from a place that was so deep within her that it was if her grief were slowly seeping out of an invisible wound that could no longer contain her sorrow.
When she spoke again, her voice contained a hesitancy and fragility that almost stopped him from breathing.
"Sometimes I don't know if I can do this anymore."
He considered her words, trying to imagine what path Olivia might take if she were to walk away. Yet even as the thought entered his mind, he knew that she would never truly be able to do so. She could try to change divisions, even turn in her badge and her gun, but at the end of the day, she would never be able to leave the victims behind. Olivia's ability to connect with people at their most vulnerable was a gift, her passion and her advocacy for justice on their behalf not just a job but a calling. It was her compassion and empathy that made her the best at what she did, though these same qualities had led her to this place of grief and despair. It was because of her openness and her heart that Lara had been able to trust her, yet it was impossible for Olivia to have accomplished this without giving away parts of herself in the process. The academy drilled in caveats about professional boundaries, the risks of getting overly attached, the ways in which emotional detachment could help stave off burnout and preserve objectivity, but all the training in the world wouldn't change the fact that Olivia wasn't built that way. She had loved that little girl, and perhaps more importantly, Lara had needed it. They both had. Elliot had watched the bond develop and had done nothing to intervene, because what the training books didn't understand was that sometimes emotional detachment was detrimental...even if Olivia's compassion had set her up for an even greater fall.
Even in the absence of Lara, Olivia had reason to feel the way she did. Elliot had felt it himself at times - complete and utter physical and emotional exhaustion that left one feeling so depleted that the very thought of taking on anything more felt insurmountable. Now knowing what he did, he couldn't imagine how Olivia had been sustaining the pace that she had been in the aftermath of Sealview let alone all that she had endured over the course of the past week. Her need to be present for Lara had likely been the factor that had kept the adrenaline flowing, preventing her from succumbing to her fatigue.
"Cragen wants us to take some time," he ultimately responded, his left hand continuing to drift soothingly along the curve of her arm. "After that, whatever you need - a leave...a change...anything - I'll support you."
She nodded, the stubborn tears still slowly seeping out one by one to be absorbed by the cotton of his shirt or to be brushed away by the gentle swipes of his thumb.
"Give yourself some time, Liv," he urged softly. "You've been pushing yourself so hard." He shook his head at all that she had been subjected to of late - the physical and emotional blows she had sustained, the control that had been stolen from her. "Let me do that overprotective thing you hate so much," he nudged, "take care of you for a change."
She breathed a laugh through her tears.
"I'm good at it...if you'll let me," he added gently.
"Maybe," she murmured noncommittally.
Elliot took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, something about the way her body was curled into his side evoking the memory of their ride from the club to the woods the night of the undercover. It had been the first time in their partnership that she'd sought comfort in his arms - the first time that she had allowed herself to be vulnerable in his presence.
"Do you remember the ride to the Catskills?" he asked after a pause.
She nodded slowly. "Not my finest moment," she said self-deprecatingly.
He sighed. "Liv...you say that, but I wish you understood how much I needed that moment."
"What do you mean?"
His hands stilled against her momentarily as he tried to find his words. "It gave me hope, Liv. I thought..." he swallowed, remembering the immensity of the guilt and self-loathing he'd felt at having caused her such harm. "I thought I'd destroyed everything that night. After everything I'd said and done..." He cleared his throat. "I thought you'd never forgive me. But when you curled into me - like this," he added, giving her a gentle squeeze, his hands resuming their slow caresses once more, "it gave me hope that I might find a way to earn your trust back."
"Elliot-"
"If you could trust me to take care of you in that moment, after everything I'd put you through, I thought maybe I'd have a chance in hell at making things right." He cradled her head more closely against his chest, his fingers weaving into her hair and his thumb tracing the shell of her ear. "It was a gift, Liv. Being allowed to take care of you is a gift."
"Okay," she breathed.
"Okay?" There was a trace of surprise in his tone, as if he'd been gearing up for a bigger battle of wills.
"Yeah."
"Thank you," he said, placing a kiss on the crown of her head.
"But I never stopped trusting you, El."
He smiled. "There's the fight..." It came at him from a different angle.
"I'm just saying," she said defiantly.
"Okay."
He had verbalized an agreement, but to her ears it sounded conciliatory and unconvinced. She pushed herself up, his hand sliding from her hair to her upper back as she lifted her head far enough to be able to meet his gaze. "I have never trusted anyone more, El. Physically and emotionally - in that room and out of it - I have always trusted you." She looked back and forth between his eyes, trying to read him. She wouldn't let this be one of his uncertainties when it couldn't be further from the truth. Nothing he had done in that room had ever impacted her trust in him. It had taken her a while to understand the root of her fear, but she now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it hadn't stemmed from a distrust in Elliot but rather her recognition of her lack of control as a whole. She hadn't had control over her own body - hadn't been able to protect herself. Yet while he'd been forced to use his strength against her for the sake of their cover, she'd never truly feared for her physical safety. Not from him.
"Always, Elliot," she urged.
"Okay," he nodded, gratitude in his expression as he accepted what she was so earnestly attempting to convey. He bowed his head, lightly touching his lips to hers before straightening again to meet her gaze. "I love you, Benson," he said with emotion, his hand smoothing over her hair.
She nodded with a small smile that contained a hint of bashfulness that made him fall just a little bit more.
He reached for her hand, their fingers interlocking. "You ready for bed?"
She arched a brow and the grin that spread across his face was contagious.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"I know you didn't," she said with amusement, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on his cheek before pushing herself up to stand with a tired sigh.
He joined her, pausing to turn off the table lamp and following her down the darkened hallway into the bathroom. She crouched down to sift through the contents of a low drawer by the sink until she found a new toothbrush, handing it to him to extricate it from the packaging as she put toothpaste on her own. He easily ripped it open and she smiled around the toothbrush in her mouth.
"What?" he asked, taking the toothpaste from her hand.
"Nothing," came her muffled reply. "I just always have to stab the back with something to get those out."
"It's perforated, Benson."
"Supposedly." She rolled her eyes.
Conversation was lost as they brushed their teeth, but it was Elliot's turn to smile as she stooped to spit, raising her hand as she did so to obstruct his view.
She caught his eye in the mirror when she straightened, shooting him a glare of warning as she rinsed off her toothbrush, tapping it against the sink a couple of times before slipping it into the holder to her left.
He wisely refrained from commenting, but when he bent forward to spit he mirrored her actions, garnering him a light smack along the back of his head.
"Didn't say a thing," he muttered with a barely suppressed smile.
When they entered her bedroom, she paused, the newness of everything leading to a degree of uncertainty that she hadn't felt since the night Elliot had revealed that her feelings were reciprocated. They had been sharing a bed for days, and yet somehow it felt as though the rules had changed now that the boundaries had evaporated.
Elliot stood slightly behind her, his palms coming to rest on her shoulders. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she replied easily, her hands lifting to cover his own. It wasn't anxiety she was feeling - not like before - just hesitation. She leaned back against him, feeling exhaustion creep around her like a thick fog. "So...how do we do this?"
"I'm pretty sure we lie down."
His words continued their earlier banter, but his tone was gentle.
She chuckled, shaking her head where it rested against his shoulder, then promptly stifled a yawn.
He kissed the side of her head. "I do have some restraint, Benson," he said softly. "How would you normally sleep?"
"Probably without the sweats," she mumbled sleepily.
They were past the point of self-imposed barriers. Olivia had demonstrated as much the night prior, yet they still each felt a need to tread lightly into this territory.
"Just get comfortable, Liv."
He ran his thumbs along her shoulder blades, giving her a gentle squeeze before slipping his hands out from beneath hers.
She rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes, walking over to the opposite side of the bed where she shimmied the cotton over her hips before sitting to pull them the rest of the way off. She lay down onto her back, watching as Elliot pulled his undershirt overhead before slipping beneath the covers to join her.
His hand found hers, tugging gently but insistently until she moved into his warmth, her head on his shoulder and her arm and leg draped over the frame of his body. He enveloped her into his arms, his lips brushing against her forehead.
Her eyes immediately drifted closed and she let out an utterance of contentment, inhaling deeply and releasing the breath slowly.
"See?" he said softly. "Just like this."
She made another unintelligible sound of acknowledgement, relaxing even further into him as his hand traced slow circles along her lower back.
Elliot felt himself start to drift off as well, lulled into calm by the slow breaths she was expelling against him, and the feel of her nestled into his side. He had thought she had fallen asleep when her breathing changed and her voice met his ears.
"Elliot?"
"Yeah."
"Love you."
"I love you too, Liv."