37

Devastated

December 6

What should she do? He was unconscious, bleeding in her arms. She was trying to stop the flow as best she could without dislodging the knife and potentially causing more damage, but she knew that really he needed medical care and soon or else he wouldn't make it. Given the amount of blood she could see, part of her had already accepted that it was unlikely he would pull through this. She tried to keep calm, for she knew that often an injury like this could look worse than it was. Who was she kidding though? He had a knife buried in his gut. Who knew what damage it had done inside his body? From the little she knew about anatomy, she took comfort from the fact that it was thrust more into his left side than his right. She hoped that meant it had missed his liver.

She needed to get help. She glanced over to where Pat Miller was still lying on the ground. She was terrified he could regain consciousness at any moment, but she couldn't focus on that. She had to keep her attention on Elliot. Maybe he had his phone on him? Why hadn't she thought of that before? She realised her sense of time was completely off. It felt like hours since he had been stabbed, but it must have been literally a matter of minutes. She slipped her hand into the pocket on the side of his jeans and immediately felt the hard metal of his phone. She brought it out quickly, feeling grateful that finally something seemed to be going her way. She felt Elliot move slightly as she pulled her hand away. She immediately placed her hand on his face, but he didn't open his eyes.

"I'm going to get help, El," she whispered, kissing him on the cheek.

She pressed the numbers and dialled. The response was immediate.

"I need a bus," she stammered. "My partner has been stabbed." She had said it before thinking, but decided to leave it. He was her partner… in every sense of the word. More tears welled as once again the thought of carrying on without him started to overwhelm her. She forced them back. She couldn't get distracted. The guy on the phone was asking her where she was. Oh God, they were in the middle of nowhere! He could bleed out by then. This was completely futile. No. She had to stay positive. He had never given up on her. He had stayed with her through all those sleepless nights, those days and weeks of her rising and falling moods. He had constantly told her that she would be OK, that she would get through it. She owed him the same patience and faith.

She managed to explain where she was. Come to think of it there was a dirt track leading away from this clearing. Of course, if there were toilets then someone would be maintaining them. The local emergency services would know all the access routes. It wasn't as though they'd have to jog an hour up the path like they had. Maybe they wouldn't take that long to get here after all? He just needed to hang on a little bit longer.

"How long will it take?" she asked, even daring to hope she would hear an answer along the lines of five or ten minutes.

"It'll take about twenty minutes to get a bus to you," the reply came and her heart sank. Twenty minutes? It felt like a life time.

She had no choice. She had to believe that he would make it. She wouldn't give up.

About ten minutes into the wait, he stirred and seemed to be regaining consciousness. He was groggy and confused and she cradled his head gently whispering softly to him. He wasn't making much sense at all. She wasn't even certain he was aware exactly where he was, but she didn't care. The fact that his eyes were open proved to her that he was still alive, still in with a chance, still fighting. She could catch most of his mumbled ramblings and knew he was replaying events in his head, although they were mixed up with other random thoughts.

"Hard… must get a new mattress…. Blue… no, get off her…. Aaagggh, it hurts…. So cold…. Gotta get back to the city….. Miller out there…. Olivia! No…. lock yourself in! Don't come out! I love you. Stone… where is she? Car…gotta get in the car. Liv!"

It was heartbreaking. Was he even aware she was there, with him, holding him? The thought of him believing he was going through this alone was devastating.

"Elliot!" she said sternly. "Elliot. It's me Liv. I'm here. I'm here with you. You're going to be OK. I promise."

"Olivia?" he fully opened his eyes now and looked straight into hers. She stroked his hand.

"Yes, it's me. I've got you. I won't let you go."

He smiled. "Liv," he whispered almost contentedly. He grimaced. She knew he was in considerable pain. No wonder he was rambling, not to mention the affect of the blood loss.

"The ambulance is on its way," she told him. "Just rest, Elliot! No, don't try and sit up. I've got you. I love you. You're going to be OK."

It was curious how actually saying the words out loud helped her dare to believe them.

He seemed to sink back a little more against her lap and started mumbling again, but this time she could barely pick out the words. Then he fell silent, his eyes closed and she realised he had slipped unconscious again. Even though it terrified her, part of her was glad for it meant that at least he could escape the pain that she knew must be excruciating.

...

The sound of the sirens was one of the most welcome sounds she thought she had ever heard in her life up until that point. Her tears fell freely with the relief. She knew getting him to a hospital as soon as possible was his only chance.

A police car and a couple of ambulances pulled into the clearing and the occupants of one of the ambulances immediately got out and quickly headed towards her.

"Help him!" she stammered through her tears. "He's been in and out of consciousness. That man over there stabbed him."

"What's your name, Miss?" the lead medic asked her as he knelt to the ground to assess Elliot's condition.

"Olivia…" she replied. "Olivia Benson."

One of the police officers joined them. "You're the pair from New York!" he exclaimed. "We've been looking everywhere for you two, ever since your Captain called us to let us know the situation."

"He called you?" she said confused.

"They found out that Miller was up here and called to warn us. We went straight over to your cabin but it was deserted."

"He must have spoken to Elliot. That's why he came after me! He… he saved my life!"

"I assume this is Elliot Stabler?" the police officer said. The medic was in the process of starting an IV line in his arm.

"Yes. He… he can't die. You have to save him."

"We'll do our best," replied the medic sympathetically. "He's lost a lot of blood though."

"What happened here?" the police officer asked.

"Can't it wait?" Olivia begged exasperated. Her only concern was with Elliot. She knew that this man had to ask her about what had happened though. Pat Miller was lying unconscious a few metres away. Suddenly it hit her, what if she had killed him? Would they be looking at her for murder? The thought of being taken away for questioning, being forcibly separated from Elliot at a time like this, when he needed her more than he ever had before, suddenly filled her with horror. She knew she had acted in self-defence and given the situation she was confident she would be believed, but she also knew there were procedures and she would need to be interviewed and there would be an investigation into her actions. It terrified her.

"I need to stay with him," she begged. "I will answer all your questions, I promise, but please let me stay by his side. I can't leave him."

"Your Captain has already explained everything," said the officer. "He'll be taken into custody," he nodded over towards where Miller was being tended to by another medic.

"Is he…?" she asked nervously. She certainly wouldn't be sorry if he didn't survive, especially given what he had done to Elliot, but at the same time she didn't want to be the one responsible for his death.

"He's unconscious, but he's alive," replied the officer.

"He stabbed him," she said again. She was still in disbelief and the words were all the more shocking said out loud. "He came over to me. I… I had grabbed a brick. It was being used for a door stop in the toilets. I had to protect myself. I couldn't let him do it again! I just wasn't expecting him to stab Elliot. I mean, I knew he carried a knife before, but… it was just so sudden."

"It's OK," soothed the officer. "It sounds like self-defence to me."

"We need to get him to the hospital fast," said the medic. He had finished stabilising Elliot enough for transport.

"I'm coming with you," Olivia said firmly. The officer nodded. He sympathised with everything she had been through. He knew about her rape and he recognised that she must have been petrified coming face to face with her attacker again. He watched her cradling Elliot's head. He could feel her desperation. If this guy didn't survive, she would be a mess, of that he was certain. That she was madly in love with him, fully dependent on him, was plain for anyone to see. He felt the apprehension grip his stomach. This guy looked bad. He'd seen plenty of others far less injured who hadn't made it. He was surprised at how much the plight of these complete strangers was affecting him. Maybe it was because he knew they were fellow police officers and felt an affinity with them? Or maybe it was just simply because the idea of a man dying to protect the woman he loved was something which would pull on anyone's heart strings.

When the medics lifted Elliot onto the gurney and his head was moved from her lap, she took his hand without the IV instead, gripping him tightly, hoping that even unconscious he would be able to sense her presence and take comfort from that. There was no way she was leaving his side. His words resounded in her head. Never give up. "I won't give up on you," she whispered squeezing his hand even more tightly.

...

The ride to the hospital was a blur. It took twenty five minutes which in some ways felt like hours and in others like barely seconds. He didn't regain consciousness during that time. He skin was pallid and clammy and he looked extremely ill. The fear which was knotting her stomach was like a new state of being. It didn't even slightly diminish over time. She tried to take each minute as it came. Every one that passed was one closer to reaching the hospital, one more minute that he had survived. She tried not to imagine ahead and what she would do if he didn't survive this. It was too unbearable. It was constantly there in the back of her mind though.

At the hospital, the staff rushed around him, taking his vitals, assessing his condition, ordering tests. There was a stream of medical vocabulary, half of which she barely recognised. She had been told she could stay but she had to stand back and not get in the way of them working on him. She hated to let his hand go. She wanted to talk to him, tell him she was there, but she didn't want to distract the people working on him. She watched with tears pouring silently down her face. Why wasn't he responding? She willed him to wake, just for a few seconds, just to let her know he was going to be OK. They had placed an oxygen mask over his face and she could barely see him.

She was suddenly aware of a nurse taking her arm, trying to lead her away.

"No," she begged. "I can't leave him."

"He'll need surgery," she explained. "Why don't you come and get a drink with me and I'll get the doctor to come and talk to you as soon as I can."

"No!" she said more firmly. "I'm not leaving."

The nurse sighed. The situation didn't look good and this woman would need all her strength to face what she was probably going to have to face soon. She really doubted he would make it through the surgery. He had lost so much blood.

The attending doctor barked out the orders to get him up to theatre straight away and there was a huge rush as everyone hurried to move him as fast as they could. Olivia followed close behind, until they prevented her from going any further. A theatre nurse pulled her into a waiting room and a few minutes later the doctor who had been attending to him downstairs appeared.

"Is he going to be OK?" Olivia asked immediately, getting to her feet as she saw him come in.

"I don't know," replied the doctor honestly. "We suspect he's bleeding from his spleen and will probably need to have it removed in surgery, along with the knife of course."

"But, he'll be OK? They'll be able to stop the bleeding, right?"

"I have to be honest with you. His condition is extremely serious. There are no guarantees. If he survives the surgery he'll still have a long recovery."

If he survives the surgery?

She stepped back and sank down onto a chair. She felt dizzy. She leaned forward, placing her head on her knees.

If he survives?

What if he died in theatre? What if he really did leave her? She thought she was going to be sick. She felt the nurse's arm on her back.

"Are you OK?" she was asked. "Can I get you anything?"

"No," replied Olivia weakly.

Just don't let him die. That's all I want.