36

It was like déjà-vu as once again he found himself glued to her bedside in the ICU, desperately praying for her recovery as she fought a nasty bacterial infection, that her doctors had initially hoped wouldn't turn into septicemia. Fate had planned otherwise however. The beeping and whirring of machines, horribly familiar, yet ever terrifying, penetrated his ears, a constant reminder that once again her life hung in the balance, with him unable to do a single thing to help. She had been sedated and was unconscious, to all knowledge completely unaware of the extreme fight her body was undergoing with the help of some of the strongest antibiotics available to doctors today. Her weakened state due to the liver transplant was of serious concern and the doctors had been honest when explaining to him that there was a significant chance she wouldn't come through this. He couldn't believe that though. How could it be possible that she could overcome everything she had, only to succumb to what for most people would have been a run of the mill infection a few weeks down the line? It was senseless.

He couldn't help but think back over the last few days they had spent together. She had been getting stronger every day and he had been looking forward to the day she was no longer in pain from her surgery site and they could truly begin getting on with the rest of their lives. The connection he felt between them was unlike anything he had ever imagined. He had given her his liver knowing that it would save her life, but he had been completely unprepared for just how of an impact it would make on the way he felt about her. He had already known he loved her, but the possibility of that love turning even deeper had never occurred to him. The thought of losing her now sent a wave of fear crashing through him that threatened his very ability to function. It was paralyzing.

He stared down at her still form, the angry red blemishes of the rash drawing more of his attention than the multitude of wires and tubes, not to mention the invasive ventilator which breathed life into her shattered body. He hoped she truly felt nothing and was completely unaware of the infection ravishing her right now. She had been through enough pain. Her doctors had explained during the last meeting that she might need dialysis as her kidneys were struggling and he hadn't been able to help his mind immediately turning to the implausible possibility of all this resulting in him donating yet another organ, although whether he would be permitted to so soon after the previous surgery was another question entirely. How many more medical setbacks could she take though? Would it reach a point where he had no more organs available to donate? Her doctors had explained that the dialysis would be a temporary measure, but even so he couldn't help but worry this was a precursor to another traumatic diagnosis, a sign that her weakened body was shutting down.

He reached out and touched her hand gently. The rash thoroughly repulsed him. He hated that it did, for it was only skin and it wasn't her, but the blotchy patches terrified him so much that at first he had been nervous to reach out and touch her. He had never seen anything like it in his life. The nurse had explained that it wouldn't hurt her to hold her hand, so he had nervously reached out and clasped her fingers, disheartened when he felt no reaction from her whatsoever; even though he knew that was next to impossible given her state and the drugs she had been given.

With his hand in hers like this, he was reminded of how they were talking a few days ago and what she had told him: something that had gone a long way to easing his guilt over everything that had happened. He couldn't even remember clearly how long ago it was exactly. Time had blurred to a huge extent. There was simply before and there was now. Memories bombarded him patchily, thoroughly clouding his comprehension of the sequence of events. He thought it might have been around three days ago, but he wasn't certain. In any case, the conversation itself remained at the forefront of his mind as she had told him that she didn't blame him for any of it and he had believed her.

…

"How's she doing?"

"No change," he replied wearily. He was getting tired of answering the same questions, but he appreciated that people were naturally worried about her. He could hardly be rude to his former Captain anyway.

"She'll pull through."

"I hope so."

"Look, Elliot. This isn't the only reason I called. We have some news."

"You do?"

"Firstly, about Lawrence Griffiths… You know he admitted everything after he was caught red-handed. The mountain of evidence against him was indisputable. Well they've brought the sentencing hearing forward slightly and it will be taking place on Friday this week. I thought you'd like to know."

"That's great," he replied flatly. It was a relief to know that bastard was being put away for what he had done to her, but it didn't change the fact that her life was now hanging in the balance as a result. Even though the doctors were unwilling to state for sure her liver failure had been caused by the drug cocktail he had given her, it seemed patently obvious to him. She had been in perfect physical health before. Part of him couldn't help but think that it was too soon to charge and sentence him. What if she died? He could be looking at a potential murder rap.

"What about Ray Schenkel?" he asked through clenched teeth, aware his emotions were beginning to get the better of him. He could feel his whole body had tensed and was starting to feel the old urge to smash the shit out of something. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. Smashing up the hospital certainly wouldn't help Olivia and getting himself thrown out and banned from returning would be disastrous.

"He's still claiming innocence," his former captain informed him. He was aware that the hump had denied everything, meaning that unless he confessed, Olivia would be put through the anguish of a trial, assuming she recovered enough to be able to face one anyway.

Elliot sucked in breath. This was awful. How could this have happened? What the hell was he supposed to do to make any of this better? His legs suddenly lost the ability to hold his weight and he sank to the ground, his cell phone still pressed against his ear, but no sound coming from his throat.

"Elliot? Are you still there?"

"Y..yes Captain," he said, his voice so uncharacteristically shaky and so completely foreign to his own ears that he almost wondered if someone else had joined the call.

"You must be exhausted. How long is it since you slept?"

"I don't know."

"Look, do you want me to come down there. Maybe I can sit by her while you get some rest or something?"

"That's nice of you, Captain, but I.. I can't leave her, not now."

"You've got to take a break Elliot. You'll be no good to her if you collapse yourself. You've not long been through major surgery yourself. You have to take it easy!"

"Captain, you don't understand. She…her situation… it's… it's precarious."

Elliot heard the deep intake of breath on the other side of the phone and pinched his eyes closed tightly as he tried to ignore the rising sense of despair that had clutched his insides so relentlessly.

"It's that bad?"

"Yes, it is," he said, his voice almost a whisper.

"I'm coming down."

Elliot nodded weakly, but Cragen had already hung up.

He remained on the floor, collapsing his head onto his knees, willing his brain to stop going to such dark places, wanting to quash the pernicious voice inside him that questioned whether she might not even be better off if she didn't pull through this.

…

"Mr Stabler?"

He raised his head and immediately recognized one of the doctors on the team caring for Olivia.

"Are you OK?" she asked gently.

He nodded and began to scramble to get himself back to a standing position, embarrassed to have been caught off-guard.

"I'm sorry. I was just talking to her old boss. It just seems so much worse when you say it out loud, you know."

"There are people you can talk to, if you like. We have a priest on call, family counselors…"

"Maybe later," he said warily.

"We know how hard this is to watch someone you love going through something like this. You need support."

"The only thing I need doctor, is for her to get well, but no one can promise me that, can they?"

"No, unfortunately," the doctor admitted soberly.

…

Elliot watched through the glass door as Cragen approached her bed. He knew exactly what was going through his mind when he paused briefly just before stepping closer, for the exact same things had gone through his. He could glean so much just from the way the tension revealed itself in the older man's stance and general demeanor, his nervousness at approaching her side. He could feel how much he too wanted to reach out to her and make physical contact but how her condition made him question if that was really a good idea or not. He watched him sink into the chair beside her bed, his gaze obviously never leaving her. He couldn't hear anything, but he imagined the kind of things he might be whispering to her, telling her that everyone was rooting for her, that they were looking forward to seeing her well soon, to hang in there… that they loved her.

And he knew they did.

He didn't stay in there long. A few minutes later he rose and headed back towards the exit. The devastated expression on his face said it all. He was floundering, at a loss for words.

"It's OK, Captain, I know." Elliot said simply.

"What are her chances?" he managed to ask.

"Not good."

…

They were sitting opposite one another in the hospital café, Cragen having convinced Elliot to at least get something quick to eat even if he wouldn't go home and rest properly.

"Is there anyone we should contact?"

"Like who?"

"Doesn't she have a brother?"

"They haven't been in touch for a few years."

"Still... he should probably be informed."

"We didn't the last time she was in the ICU," Elliot said pointedly.

"We should have."

Elliot turned his head, gazing out of the window at the city landscape. This time seemed so much less hopeful somehow.

"I could call if you like?"

"No, it's fine. I'll deal with it," Elliot said resignedly.

"The others have been asking about her too. Some of them want to come along and visit."

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Captain. The ICU usually only allow next of kin to visit anyway. They made an exception for you. I just don't know if she would want everyone seeing her… like that."

"You're probably right. Maybe when she's feeling a bit better? When's she's on a regular ward…"

"Yeah," agreed Elliot sadly.

The sudden beeping of the emergency pager he had been loaned from the ICU while he was away sent a wave a fear crashing through him. His face drained of blood he shakily got to his feet.

"What is it?" Cragen asked immediately.

"I don't know. They've paged me. Something must have happened to her."

"Come on, let's go," Cragen said quickly, seeing how close Elliot was to losing it. The state he was in, it'd be a miracle if he found the exit to the cafeteria by himself, let alone make his way down the maze of hospital floors and corridors. With his hand on his back in an attempt to steady the younger man, they headed back towards the ICU.

They arrived to a flurry of activity.

"What's going on?" Elliot yelled at a nurse who was standing in front of the main doors, blocking them from entering. A curtain had been pulled across and Elliot couldn't see anything that was happening inside the room.

"The resuscitation team are working on her right now," the nurse said. "She has gone into cardiac arrest."

"What?" he asked overwhelmed. He knew exactly what she meant, but it was hard to take it in.

"Her heart stopped beating," confirmed the nurse.

"No!" he whimpered, his voice cracking as the first tears began to tumble down his cheeks. "No… Olivia…no."