A/N So sorry I left this for so long at such a precarious point in the story line. This chapter is emotional. I will try and update again soon so as not to leave you hanging for so long this time! Reviews inspire me, so feel free to share your thoughts. :-)

37

He stared at her still form sadly. She had been brought back from the brink of death no less than four times already and the doctors had told him plainly that there was no guarantee they'd be able to bring her back should her heart stop yet again. It appeared her body was slowly shutting down and there wasn't much they could really do accept pump her full of drugs and hope that they would help in time. He couldn't help but focus on the fact that she was still here, still fighting. He knew she'd fight to the very end. It made him sad though to question whether they were reaching a point when it just wouldn't be fair to expect that from her any longer. How much should one person be allowed to suffer?

"Liv," he whispered, leaning in to speak softly, in the hope that only she would hear his voice. "It's okay you know. You don't have to hang on for me. If you've had enough, if you can't do this anymore… it's okay. I'll understand, I promise."

His eyes were clouded by the tears that it seemed were a permanent presence lately. He couldn't remember the last time he had showered, eaten, or changed his clothes. His whole world existed of this room and of her. He knew he was exhausted, perhaps more than he had ever been in his whole life, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. If she didn't make it, he had no idea what he would do. It was this that made him pray desperately for God to keep her with him, keep her alive, whatever the cost. And it was also this that made him feel terribly guilty. How could he demand that she stay here, in such pain, clinging to life just for him? How could he be so selfish as to ask that of her?

Seeing her lying there, motionless, he was again starkly reminded of how much weight she had lost, how her eyes were now sunken into her face, how her cheek bones now stood out so prominently; a constant reminder of her weakened condition. There was no trace of the healthy vibrant and eager woman that had greeted him day after day when they had worked together as partners. She had been so strong, so passionate about doing everything she could to help every single victim she had come into contact with, so enthusiastic about locking up every single last scumbag they had ever come into contact with. He knew she would hate seeing herself like this, knowing how much she had lost; physically, emotionally, everything. The unfairness of it all stabbed at his gut as he stared at her.

One of the nurses had tied her hair back out of her face into a loose side pony tail and it made her look younger, girlish even. He had to admit he liked it. It was an innocent reminder of happier times. Of course in the early years of their partnership she had tended towards shorter hairstyles and even though she had never explicitly said, he knew that given the unsavory characters they came into contact with, it had been an attempt to make her appearance tougher, older and less overtly feminine. Yet the shorter styles had only ever accentuated her features, making her all the more intriguing in his eyes.

He reached forward now and ran his hands through the strands of her hair that brushed the side of her face, enjoying the silky feel.

"I love you," he whispered softly before leaning his body further forward and placing his head down so that it was resting against her shoulder. "It's okay if you want to let go, Liv. It's okay."

It was anything but, but how could he tell her otherwise.

"How is she Daddy?"

"Maureen…" he muttered dazedly, starting awake. He had been ordered into the waiting room while the nurses attended to some matters of hygiene. He knew there was nothing he hadn't seen before when it came to her personal care, but even so it seemed pointless to get into an argument with the staff caring for her. So he had allowed himself to be led into the waiting area, taken the cup of coffee he had been offered and then after draining the small paper cup and placing it on the coffee table, he had rested his head back against the chair, intending only to close his eyes for a couple of minutes.

Now as he glanced at his watch he realized he had been asleep for just over two hours.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, immediately scrambling to get to his feet, cursing himself for having allowed himself to fall asleep like that.

"I'm worried about you, Daddy. You didn't return my call. One of the nurses called me to say you haven't been sleeping or eating, that you've barely left her side."

"She's desperately ill, Maureen. What do you expect?"

"Isn't she getting any better?"

He paused to take a deep breath.

"I... I think she's dying…"

His voice cracked as he spoke the words and he felt the tears escaping from his eyes as he sank back down into the chair, doubled over, his head in his hands, the horrifying reality truly hitting home. He was losing her. He was actually losing her.

"Oh Daddy…" he heard his daughter whisper as she sank down into the chair beside his and then leaned over, wrapping her arms around him as best as she could. He welcomed their warmth. Shifting his position to face her, he leaned his head against his eldest daughter's chest, the irony of the role reversal not lost on him, despite his agony as he allowed his daughter to comfort him in much the same way as he had done for her so often throughout her childhood.

"I'm so sorry," she was telling him, her hand kneading his back as he cried into her chest.

"She's been so strong," he managed to get out. "After everything that she's suffered… She never lost herself. She… this isn't fair."

"I know Daddy," his daughter soothed, her own eyes glistening with emotion.

"I thought everything was going to be okay, you know? I really thought we were over the worst; that things were going to get better."

"I know."

"She got through the operation," he continued, unable to stop the floodgates now that they had opened. "Things were getting better. She was getting stronger."

Maureen closed her eyes tightly shut as she continued to stroke her father's back. This was heartbreaking.

"It's my fault. I should have realized something was wrong earlier. I should have brought her in earlier." He suddenly pulled away, releasing his grasp on his daughter's arms and stepping back slightly.

"Daddy, come on. You can't do this to yourself."

"I should have done something," he repeated, turning to face the wall.

Maureen watched him warily. His fists were clenched and she knew him well enough to realize that he was probably just one step away from smashing something.

"She needs you," she said simply, but her tone carried the veiled warning. Losing control now wouldn't help anyone.

It worked. His eyes met hers and she recognized the shame there as he realized himself what he had been about to do. Once again the anger that he sometimes barely managed to contain had almost bubbled over to the surface.

"I need to get back to her," he said shakily.

"Go. I brought you a change of clothes. I'll leave the bag at the nurse's station."

"Thanks Maureen."

"If you need anything, call me Daddy, you promise?"

He nodded gratefully and then stepped towards her, hugging her once more.

"I love you."

"I love you too." she echoed as he walked away.

"Any change?" he asked as he stepped up to the nurse's station upon entering the ICU.

"No," the nurse replied with a solemn smile. "But no change isn't necessarily a bad thing. Her heart is remaining stable for now."

"Right," Elliot said forcing a weak smile. "I was wondering if I could have a word with Doctor Mirren."

"He's just out the back," she said, nodding towards the office door behind her. "I'll see if he can see you now."

"Thank you."

He was ushered in almost immediately.

"Hello Mr Stabler."

"Good afternoon Doctor," he replied slowly as he tried to brace himself for what he was about to ask.

"What can I do for you?"

"Last time her heart stopped, the other doctor mentioned considering signing a DNR."

"And you've thought about it?"

"I have, but I have some questions."

"Sure."

"Do you think she can pull through this?"

"Anything is possible," the doctor replied in a non-committed tone.

"So you don't think it's likely?"

"In all honesty? No, I'm afraid I don't. She is high-risk anyway due to her transplant status, her infection is as yet not showing much sign of abating, her kidneys are shutting down, she has gone into cardiac arrest four times and there is some swelling on her brain. I wish I could give you a more positive outlook, but unfortunately I can't."

"How long do you think she has?"

"Assuming we are successful in restarting her heart the next time then I would say perhaps a few days, maybe a week at the most."

"And you think there will be a next time?"

"Almost without a doubt."

"Is… is she in pain?"

He watched the doctor's face carefully as he sighed deeply.

"If she is, it will be nominal. She's under sedation and we are giving her narcotics to combat that."

"But she still might be?"

"I'm afraid I don't know for certain, but my instincts tell me that a patient in her condition, she is almost definitely feeling some discomfort."

Elliot winced at the doctor's words.

"Look, I'll give you the form. You can think about it and fill it out later if you want to."

Elliot nodded, reaching for the form morosely, feeling absolutely sick to the stomach.

He sank down into the chair beside her bed, reaching for her hand and wrapping his fingers around it. She felt so warm. He watched her chest moving up and down, soothed by the steady rhythm of her movements. With his other hand, he held the form tightly. Maybe he should sign it. She deserved to finally be free from all this, from hospitals, needles, tests, drugs and from pain. The thought of losing her though broke his heart. It would be selfish though to force her to carry on clinging to life like this, just for him. How could he do that to her?

"Liv, I love you so much," he muttered, clenching his fingers even more tightly around her hand. "I hope you know that." He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it gently, breathing in her familiar scent as he pressed her hand against his lips, not wanting to ever let her go.

Then he noticed the fluttering of her eyelids. It was so brief he questioned if he could even have imagined it. In all likelihood he probably had, but even so a sense of determination began to take hold as he realized with horror what he had been about to do. How could he even have considered on giving up on her like that? What had he been thinking? None of this was his decision to make. She deserved his unwavering support right until the end. This time a different kind of nausea took hold as he looked down at the form he was still clenching in his left hand. Gently he released her and laid her hand back down on the bed as he took the form firmly in both hands and then deliberately and angrily tore the offending paper in two, right down the middle.

"I'm so sorry Liv," he muttered, allowing the torn paper to fall to the floor and once again reaching for her hand. "I'll never give up on you, Liv, never! I promise."