Author's comments: Sigh. I think y'all might like this one.

Trouble

Chapter 26

Part 1.

Every word tediously uttered between labored breaths, Olivia said hoarsely, "You guys going to stand around in a huddle, or are you going to visit with me?"

"Shhh, don't talk, Olivia," Elliot said gingerly, scooping her hand up in his when he reached the edge of the bed. Nick and Fin cast uncertain glances at one another, and then followed Elliot's lead and approached her. Her dark eyes sunken into her pallid face, she closed them for a few seconds, the effort of speaking sapping what little energy she had.

"Hey, we just popped in to see you," said Nick, his voice gentle. "We aren't staying."

"Yeah, we figure you probably need to rest," added Fin.

She nodded, following Elliot's orders not to speak. Nick and Fin left a few minutes later, taking Elliot's unspoken cues, and Elliot settled onto the bed next to her. She winced for a second, and he remembered what the doctor had said earlier—she still had a chest tube in place to help her lung stay inflated, and every movement could be painful.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's fine," she whispered.

Lightly brushing his hand over her fragile arm, he thanked the heavens that she was alive, awake, and appeared to be completely coherent. She still looked frail and weary, her eyes barely able to stay open, and he didn't want to keep her from resting, but he had to take advantage of her brief moment of consciousness to let her know how he felt.

"Liv," he said, and she brought her bleary gaze to meet his. "I'm glad you're okay. I was really worried about you."

She opened her mouth to speak, and he stopped her with a finger to his lips, the rattling in her lungs making him anxious. "Save your energy. You can tell me later." She nodded, closing her eyes the rest of the way. He caressed her cheek, hoping she would settle down and rest. "Get some sleep, Liv." And then, as an afterthought, after she obeyed him and let her head settle into the pillow, he said, "Welcome back."

Part 2.

Olivia had so much she wanted to say, so much to share, but found herself silenced by the weakness of her lungs and the enormity of her own fatigue. Besides that, it hurt her brain to think, and she couldn't quite get the thoughts to follow one another in one cohesive unit anyway. Ever since she first opened her eyes and saw him there, she had one thing she wanted to tell him, but she drifted in and out of the awakened world as if it was actually a part of her dreams.

It didn't matter how many times she opened her eyes though, she saw one thing—his welcoming face there with her. Often too tired to even feign consciousness, her skin delighted in the touch of his fingers, and she knew she would make it through the pain and the exhaustion to the other side. Some of his words she heard, and others drifted in and out of her mind like snowflakes, but one phrase stayed with her at all times, "You're the bravest person I know . . ."

The events that brought her here, tied to this bed, incapacitated by tubes and machines, appeared in her mind as blurry chunks, sometimes not in the right order. Was she here because of Lewis? No, that legacy had passed some time ago.

No, there had been pills involved, and drinking, and speeding cars, and men with guns. By the time the tube was painfully removed from her throat, she recalled the tall rapist in the interrogation room, and the despair and resolve she had felt stepping into that room, but nothing beyond that point.

Like a bad commercial, she turned that scene off and focused on the loving touch of Elliot's gentle fingers caressing her hair where it met her scalp. He must have thought she was asleep, but she was just cherishing every stroke, using the feeling to keep her mind off the pain in her chest. That one thing, the thing she had to tell him, kept rising to the surface of her mind until she had to open her eyes and let it out.

"Elliot," she whispered, trying to save her damaged voice.

His eyes drew instantly to hers, staring intently as he said, "What is it, Liv?"

"I'm sorry—"

"Shhh . . . don't waste your breath on an apology. Save your energy."

She licked her dry lips. "No, I just wanted to tell you, I'm going to stay."

He narrowed his eyes in confusion as she blinked long and hard, the few words tiring her. But she forced herself to continue. "I want to live, because I want to stay with you."

He nodded, showing her he finally understood, his lips drawing together in a half-smile. "Okay," he whispered back. And then he leaned forward and held her head in a hug, kissing the top of her hair. "Okay, that's good. Thank you for telling me, because I want to keep you around." She could almost hear him smiling.

Part 3.

"Come on, Olivia, you can do this."

Panting deeply, she panicked as her lungs struggled to take in enough oxygen to sustain herself. "I . . . can't," she said, collapsing back into the chair.

"Yes, you can. You have to," he said, trying to urge her to her feet by prying her up by her arm.

She rubbed her weary eyes, giving in to the dead weight of her body and slumping deeper into the chair. "Elliot, leave me alone. I just need a break."

He sighed deeply, surrendering her arm to her. "You're never going to get better if you don't keep trying—"

"I said . . . leave me alone," she huffed, her face snapping upwards to show him her scowl. "I'm tired . . . so tired." Laying her head back on the chair, she closed her eyes and wished she could lie back down on the bed.

It had only been three days since a bullet had pierced her lung, and somehow the doctors expected her to get up and walk, with a chest tube and IV still in place. "They said you need to build up your strength again—stay up as much as you can tolerate. Otherwise you could get blood clots, and you might—"

He stopped, and she knew why finishing the sentence made him uncomfortable. Death was never an easy subject. Patting her hand in the air, she said, "I know, Elliot. I know. But it wears me out just to sit up, and yet I already walked down the hallway once today."

He was silent for a moment, and then he said, "Alright, catch your breath for a few minutes. And then we'll try again."

She used what little breath was left in her lungs to sigh. "No, Elliot. I'm done. Help me back to the bed."

Instead, he stood like a bull sizing up a matador. "Fine. But I thought you said you were done giving up."

Moving gruffly to help her to her feet, he lifted her to standing and shuffled her to the bed, and she bit her lip, trying to stem the flow of tears. When she finally scooted her way onto the bed, relying heavily on his strength to supplement her own, she looked away, not wanting him to see her steadily reddening eyes.

He plopped down to sit next to her, sighing again, but softer this time. Dropping his forehead into his hand, he said harshly, "What's wrong?"

But his tone told her he already knew. "Nothing," she said, refusing to make eye contact. Sinking down into the bed, she whispered, "I want to be alone now. Maybe you should go for a walk without me."

He stared distantly out the window, and then looked at her face, his eyes softening as if noticing for the first time that she was upset. Reaching up to touch her shoulder, he said, "Hey." Tipping her chin in his direction with one finger, he repeated the word. "Hey."

Looking at him directly sent her over the edge, and she finally allowed the hot tears to begin to flow, but it hurt to cry and sapped her already diminished ability to breathe.

"Hey," he whispered, caressing her arm. "I'm sorry. Don't cry—you'll wear yourself out."

She shook her head but stayed quiet, unable to speak at the moment anyway. Finally showing some mercy, he pulled her to him so she could rest her weary head on his shoulder, and she tried not to wince too hard from the pain in her chest. "I'm sorry, Liv. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just . . . I'm just scared for your health."

Allowing all the anguish to drain into his shoulder with her falling tears, she relaxed and inhaled the sweet air that was so sparse now. "It's okay," she said softly. "I'm just so tired."

"I know," he said, cradling her head against his neck. "And I shouldn't talk to you that way."

"It's my fault anyway," she said, her words muffled by her mouth pressed into his shirt. "I brought all this on myself."

He pushed her back gently as he said, "Hey, no. What you did was courageous, and you deserve a medal, not nagging." She wondered by his words if he realized how suicidal she had been when she entered the interrogation room, prepared to do whatever it took to get Grady, regardless of the consequences. Nonetheless, she allowed him to continue uninterrupted. As he wiped a tear from her cheek, he said, "I've had lots of time to think these last few days, and I realize that I was the one who lacked courage."

He looked down now, keeping one hand embedded in her hair. "You know, Liv, I realize how stupid I was all those years we worked together." She shook her head as he continued. "I didn't really want to stay with Kathy. I cared about her, of course, and I even loved her, but she wasn't the one I carried around in my heart. All those years . . ." He brought his eyes up to meet hers. "It was you."

Her lips pressed together as she suppressed a tearful smile, and he traced the line of her cheekbone with his thumb. "But I was too afraid to leave, and you suffered because of it. Not only that," he said, letting his hand drift up to her hairline to massage her scalp with his fingertips, his voice taking on a wistful tone, "but I took out my frustrations on you. I pushed you away with my anger because I couldn't have you, and I'll never forgive myself for hurting you like that."

She closed her eyes for a second, absorbing the meaning of his words deep into her chest, and somehow they helped her to breathe easier. The corners of her eyes lowering, she nodded and whispered, "Thank you, Elliot. I've always wanted to hear—"

Unable to say the words as she choked up, she stopped, and he filled in her blanks with words of his own. "That I love you? Olivia Benson, I do love you, more than life itself."

Throwing herself against him, she gripped him as tight as she could in her weakened state, grasping at him as if his sturdy frame was the essence of her very existence, sniffing back all the suffering she had endured from his disappearance, letting them evaporate with her tears.