A/N: Survive, one motive, no hope, 'Cause every sidewalk I walk is like a tightrope (Rage Against the Machine)
DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story, words, and dialogue are mine. © TStabler
The black sky is illuminated by the brightly flashing red and blue lights, the way they spiral and swirl is almost beautiful. There's an eerie silence; so many people and vehicles should be causing a great deal of noise, but there's stillness and soundlessness in the chaos. Elliot looks around, the view from his seat on the back end of an ambulance allows him to take it all in, confused. He doesn't know how any of this happened, only that he's alive and so is Olivia, and it's all he seems to give a rat's ass about anyway. He closes his eyes and raises his hand to reach for her, flinching slightly as the pain hits.
"You happy now?" she asks him, her voice a low whisper. She has his ace-bandaged wrapped hand in both of hers, holding it gently, one finger lightly grazing the silver clips that bind it tightly. "You finally broke it."
"It was worth it," he growls, the words rattle in his throat. His teeth are clenched and he's staring across the empty lot at the body-bag being lifted into the back of the other ambulance. "I'd do it again," he grits.
She sighs and shakes her head. "I know you would," she tells him. "I can't believe Cragen…"
"I shouldn't have told you to stay behind me," he cuts her off, finally looking up at her. "If you were fucking right by my side where the hell you belong, he never would have been able to…" he growls again, balling his working hand into a fist. He relaxes when her fingers brush over his hand. "The second he grabbed you…" he shakes his head, his tongue sweeps over his lip and he grimaces at the heavy metallic taste of blood it kicks up. "It was fucking over for him."
With a narrow-eyed sigh, she moves her right hand to his face, brushes her knuckle gingerly over his split lip. "You were right, ya know," she sniffles slightly, "They searched his car, found a roll of duct tape and a bloody blanket. He did all of this to get to us. Well, to me. He knew we'd get called into it and, I guess he thought if we had another case together, he'd finally…"
"Then when he realized we were onto him, he threatened you, knew it would set me off," he interrupts, shaking his head. "That's why he fucking called me! He knew he was going down, and wanted to take me down with him," he closes his eyes and lets out a frustrated grunt. "I let him fucking do it," he breathes. His head falls against her shoulder and he asks in a harsh whisper, "What did I do to him?"
"You broke his nose, fractured his jaw, broke three of his ribs," she says, brushing his hair back. "Skull fracture, probably because you threw him into the wall twice when you pulled him off of me." Her lips press against his hot forehead, her eyelids slide down slowly.
He nuzzles into the crook of her neck, his lips graze her skin and he doesn't care they're leaving a slight streak of blood behind as they move. "I don't...I don't remember shooting him." He kisses her chin. "I just...I don't even remember drawing my gun, baby."
"You didn't," she comforts, her hands wrapping around his head. "After he elbowed you, he grabbed me again, pulled my gun off my hip and he…" she shakes as she speaks, her nails scrape through his hair. "He turned it on you...he was aiming for you, he had his other arm around my neck and I couldn't…" she chokes on her words, almost whimpers as he kisses her neck again. "I was trying to take him down but...Cragen shot him."
His head snaps up a bit too fast, it pulls at his sore shoulder and he winces as he searches for her eyes. "He what? He was there?" He moves the fingers of his broken hand, trying to wrap them around hers but failing. He gives up with a sigh and moves his other hand to grab her. "Are you sure it was Cragen? How did he know…why was he even here?"
"I don't know," she says, and she tries to smile at him, but his beaten face and cracking joints stop her from doing it. "But, God, I'm thankful he was."
He chuckles once, his uninjured hand moves to the side of her face. His fingers slip through her hair. "How's your head?" he asks, sitting up straighter. He blinks and wobbles, getting dizzy, and he sees it happen all over again: Falsone grabbing her from behind, pressing the blade of a knife to her neck. He feels Falsone kneeing him in the chest to get Olivia cornered, running his lips all over her before throwing her against the wall, knocking her head into the brick as his greasy hands moved down her body to her pants.
Elliot squeezes his eyes shut and tries to breathe deeper, then, remembering the moment he'd righted himself and flipped, grabbed the bastard, unleashed on him. He'd been ready and willing to kill him with his bare hands. He relives the hard-fisted blows, the way he'd heard the crunching of bones with every hit and it'd only made him laugh and hit the bastard harder, how he'd grabbed Falsone's collar, bashed his head against the wall until he went limp. It'd made him drop his guard and he'd moved for Olivia too soon, giving Falsone the window he'd needed to get in a hard punch, grab Olivia, pull and raise her gun. "I'm sorry," he breaks into a shaking breath. "Baby, I'm so sorry."
She shakes her head, her palms still cupping his face, "I'm fine. We're...we're both fine. You…" she stops, her lip trembles, and she drops her head against his. Her quick breath lands on his mouth and she whispers something he can barely hear.
"Now?" he questions, and he doesn't wait for her to answer, he looks around to make sure no one will notice if he moves. He shifts on the tailgate then hops down, dragging Olivia to the dark side of the truck. He cups her face for a moment, just looking at her, and then he leans in and kisses her hard, ignoring the sting of his cut lip. His hand wraps itself up in her dark curls and he pulls roughly but keeps kissing her, not allowing her head to move with her hair. He feels her tremble against him as his mouth catches her moan. He kicks one foot back onto the silver step to pull her closer and work one of his legs between hers. He doesn't give a fuck if anyone walks around and sees them, because he's fairly certain he's out of a job anyway, and this moment is too important to ignore.
She grinds down onto his thigh, whimpering against his lips, and she can taste the saltiness of their mixing tears with just a tinge of the tinny tang of his blood. She shoves her hands up under his shirt and grips, the need to feel his skin, his clenching muscles, his heart beating. She feels him slid his broken hand to the small of her back, the other hand creeping toward her neck, and he wraps his fingers around her throat as he turns them around. He keeps her pressed to the side of the ambulance as he kisses his way across her jaw, down her neck, around her chest, back up, until he crashes into her again. His tongue battles hers, his fingers slowly graze the skin of her neck as her hands claw and scratch and struggle for something to hold onto, something solid that proves they're alive.
He pulls back when he needs to breathe, and as he pants, he whispers, "I'm only in control...of everything...when I'm with you. If I lose control, you're there and you pull me back, so I need you to promise me...swear to me…" he inhales and brings his hand right up under her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes and hold his gaze. He kisses her softly, nuzzles her nose, and says, "I'll never have to live without you."
She whispers, "Never," and kisses him again, craving more of him, desperate for his strength, his power, is proof of life.
He licks her lips and then bites her chin gently, and then lowers his hand and drops his head. "You're sure I didn't kill him?" he asks in a harsh choke.
As her fingers caress his reddening skin where her nails chewed and scraped, she says, "It wasn't you." She sighs as she lets him pull her back around to the cabin of the ambulance. When he sits, he pulls her into him, the fingers on his working hand start running along her inner thigh, crawling higher. "God," she breathes, and her head falls against his as his knuckles trail discreetly over her clothed slit. "I've never seen Cragen so cold before, so…he didn't care if he..."
"Benson," the captain's voice breaks into what she's about to say. He notices the two detectives stiffen, split apart fast, but he also sees their hands drop from each other to clasp together on her lap. His lips pull themselves into a broken smile. "I talked to the EMTs. You need to get checked out, no arguments." He nods over to a nearby tech and snaps his fingers to get him moving. "And you…" he sighs as his eyes lock onto Elliot's. "What am I gonna do with you?"
"Fire me," Elliot huffs, nodding. "Right?" He keeps his unwrapped hand in Olivia's as the EMT moves to take her vitals. He shrugs at his captain. "Transfer me to the traffic unit? I know I promised I wouldn't let this happen again, but…"
"But he went after Olivia," Cragen says, interrupting him. "Why do you think I shot the son of a bitch?" He takes a few steps and leans up against the side of the ambulance, folds his arms, and exhales. "He tripped the phone tap when he called you. When I heard where he was, what he was gonna do...when he said he was gonna kill two birds with one stone, get rid of you and take Liv…" he chokes on the words. "I couldn't have been more than five minutes behind the two of you."
Elliot eyes Olivia, smirking at the way she swats the EMT's hands away from her and insists she's fine, and he looks back at Cragen with upturned brows. "You knew I was gonna…"
"I knew you'd be bound and determined," Cragen bites in as he nods, one of his hands rises to wipe his brow and then scrub down his face. "When I walked down that alley and saw you on the ground, the gun in his hand, Olivia in a chokehold...I aimed and fired without thinking, and I knew…" He rests a hand on Elliot's shoulder, squeezes lightly. "In that one moment, I understood how you feel, how the hatred and the apathy just overwhelm everything else...it happened so fast, I was so...angry and scared." He breathes out again. "Yeah, training told me to aim for his arm or his leg, but knowing he'd already raped and killed someone, and now he had the two of you...I wasn't gonna let him out of there alive."
"Cap," Elliot breathes, sitting up a bit straighter. He groans when his back cracks, but his eyes are set on Cragen's. He's never seen the man this emotional, vulnerable. "What are they gonna do to you? I can't let you…" he shakes his head and he feels Olivia's other hand fall to his neck. "Tell them I shot him, let me take the fall for this, I have less to lose! They already expect this from me, anyway, you can't tell me they don't! I can…"
"Elliot," Cragen holds out a hand and offers a fatherly smile. "I would never let you do that, ever, you know that. Luckily, in this case…" he breathes out and rounds his shoulders, his grey suit and black overcoat rumpling as he moves. "It doesn't matter. Tucker's already declared it a necessary shot, Falsone isn't around to complain about you beating the shit out of him and even if he was, it was a combination of self-defense and defense of a third party." He licks his lips and runs a hand through his thinning white hair. "It's a moot point, so anything you did, or didn't do, is between you and Olivia." His eyes shoot to hers, and they crinkle a bit when he looks at her. "You okay?"
"Bump on the head that doesn't even hurt, a couple of bruises and scratches," she clears her throat. She isn't going to tell her boss that they're not all from the fight with Falsone, or where exactly they did come from, so she just squeezes Elliot's neck and says, "I'm fine."
"Now, uh, before we all get locked in the box to give Tucker our statements, what am I not telling him?" Cragen tilts his head, takes a breath. "How serious is...whatever this is?" He waves a finger around between them before he stares down at Elliot. "I need you to tell me this isn't just you getting your rocks off because Kathy…"
"You know it's not," Elliot says, and there's no trace of anger in his voice at all. He surprises himself with his state of calm, but he knows it's because he's already unloaded every ounce of rage he'd been holding onto for weeks, letting it all explode onto Paul Falsone. "I'm in love with her," he speaks, and he laughs when his smile causes his lip to bleed again. "You knew that."
"I did," Cragen nods. "Like I said, I just needed you to tell me. Now, I can officially pull that off of the list of reasons you need to see the department shrink once a month." He stiffens his pointing finger and says, "It's the least I could give IAB in light of this, Stabler, they're not as reassured as I am by your, uh, personal promise to calm the fuck down and work on your anger management." He smirks and raises an eyebrow. "Or how, exactly, you're doing it."
Elliot and Olivia give each other a heated look, exchanging smirks of their own, and Elliot clears his throat before he turns back to Cragen. "Yeah, uh, I think I'm...I'm gonna be okay, but if you need me to talk to Huang, I…"
"Skoda," Cragen spits out quickly. "I need you to actually work through your shit, not spend forty-five minutes shooting the shit and planing poker nights." He pulls on the belt of his coat and scratches behind his ear. "Your actions tonight, though extreme, were justified. I'm not writing you up for it, but the next time you snap a limb in the…"
"No promises," Elliot intrudes honestly. "But I can promise it'll only happen if…" he bites his lip and seethes, forgetting his sore split. "If I'm ever as fucking unhappy as I was...before, and I don't…" he looks over his shoulder. "I don't think that's ever gonna happen."
Olivia smiles down at him this time, refraining from moving to kiss him, and she looks back at Cragen. "Thank you," she whispers, a slight waver of emotion in her soft voice.
"No need, I was just...protecting my family," Cragen returns her smile, then looks over at Tucker who seems to be waiting for him. "I'll meet you two back at the house," he says, and he walks away before either one of them can say anything else. They'll ask too many questions, forcing him to give them answers, and the last thing he needs to do tonight is feed Elliot any more rage.
The truth will come out in time, but for now, the fight against the machine is over, and if he has to hide a few secrets of his own to keep it from rising again, he can live with that.
A/N: Is it over? Is it not? Let me know...but for now, adieu.