A/N: Hello again! I'm back with an update. Thank you to eogotmelike for her input and all my girls for putting up with my insufferable need to have this story be perfect. Thank you for all the kind reviews, they keep me going (even when they're yelling reviews lol). Enjoy.

When the water slips down her spine and along the backs of her thighs, she hears it.

Her senses have always been sharp. Here, surrounded by dense forests and moss, they seem to be sharper. New York has always been home, but the island holds something that she can't quite describe. It puts her at ease, yet she feels stronger than she's ever felt before. The second that the door handle begins to turn, she knows its him.

She doesn't move.

Olivia faces the showerhead, bracing one hand on the shower wall, and the other moves through her wet hair. She's already been in here long enough that her hair is clean, and the smell of mandarins fill her nose from her body wash. The hot water never seems to end and she relishes in the feeling, the nearly scalding temperature soothes her.

She's clean but the scent of him lingers.

They had danced in the same room she currently occupies. She shouldn't be thinking of him and relishing the night they shared together but she is only human. Privately, she will remember. Publicly would have to be a different deal altogether, especially once they were back in New York. A small, growing part of her dreams of just staying on the island and never leaving. The simplicity here would surely bore her. The lack of options for resources here would drive her insane.

Yet she craves the solitude, the peace of the wild nature that surrounds the cabin. West Coast rain soaks her more than New York did and she wants to get lost in it. Everything about Tofino differs from home.

The shower door opens and she turns her head just enough to peek out from beneath her wet lashes at him. His eyes are soft this morning and his presence is so, so warm. Water sprays him gently, splashing off of her body onto his chest and his face.

"Liv," he starts, but she drops her head and her gaze away from him. She can't handle the conversation they're about to have, she wants to live in denial because it feels good, it protects her heart and her soul and her partnership.

"I can't, El." She whispers to the drain. Today she wants to be in the water, to slither away from reality and end up somewhere far away.

"Look at me," Elliot grates, stepping closer to her. But she can't, she won't. Her body stays still, despite the slight tremble that lingers in her fingertips. Slowly, she crosses her arms over her chest and leans forward, resting her forehead against the tile wall. She breathes only because she has to, and her skin begins to cool from not being covered in the water anymore.

Seconds pass, and he seems to accept her refusal. He takes her spot in the direct spray, and her ears thrum with the sound of the water coming off of his strong body. The moment is fleeting and his impatient, thick arm wraps around her waist, pulling her back into his chest.

"I saw whales near the shore last night," his voice is soft in her ear as he brushes her hair to the side. It's his attempt to soften the blow, she assumes. Or maybe this is the beginning of the awkward small talk that comes with a one-night stand. She's not sure.

She stays holding herself. She can't get wrapped up in this again.

"I saw them too," she whispers, barely audible. His hands are on her hips and although it's intimate, he doesn't pull her back into his lower half. He keeps her just far enough away as if to send some message that he's thinking clearly, not just through the haze of his arousal.

"I don't regret anything," his tone changes, reflecting his seriousness. "Nothing has to change."

She wonders if he will ever know the way she loves him. If he will ever know the swelling of her heart for him and the way she draws in a secret breath of hope with each new day she spends here. She's so very strong, and all at the same time, so very vulnerable to him.

She knows then that he's dancing the same waltz of denial. They have to protect each other, they have to protect themselves. Olivia inhales and exhales, letting all the air deflate from her lungs until it burns and she sucks in air to relieve the pressure. She repeats it twice more before speaking.

"Just while we're here, El," she offers. "When we go back to-"

"I know," he assures her, resting his mouth on her wet temple.

I know.

Every day she spends on the island, she falls more in love with it. Although they're here chasing a killer, she finds solace in the smell of the ocean, the crisp mornings, and warm afternoons. There is no swirling, sweltering heat that makes her sticky, and wants to run from the heat of the day into buildings and police vehicles. Here, the locals don't even bother with air conditioning. The weather is never severe in any way.

When Elliot reaches for her this time, she relaxes into him. His fingers tug at her chin, urging her mouth onto his. The water that drips from their faces wets their lips as he kisses her, and she lets the war rage on outside their cabin. She has to be present and live in the moment. If she keeps looking ahead and planning and trying to rationalize, she will lose this feeling faster than it arrived.

Her hand closes around his soap and she turns in his arms, gliding the bar over his shoulders, down his chest. He touches her but she can't allow herself to be distracted by his nimble fingers on her breasts. Instead, she chooses to focus on the scars across his torso. Elliot is marred but flawless, every scar is a road map of their journey as partners. His body screams danger to her mind, but she leans into it because his eyes are something else entirely.

"Got lots of time, Liv." He breathes between kisses. "Three weeks."

Yeah, she thinks. Three weeks to fit in twelve years.

For a single moment, he thinks about keeping what he found on the porch from her.

But she heard the way his breath caught in his throat, and she saw the way he stilled just a moment ago when he opened the door. The brown paper bag in his hands is labeled in large, hard lines of permanent marker.

For Elliot and Olivia.

Jacques would have knocked, he would have come in if only to speak with Olivia. He had seen the younger man's writing all over the case files as well, and his penmanship was nothing like the one on the bag. Jacques is their only real contact from Canada, the rest of the RCMP filter through him.

No one else should know who they are.

Elliot closes the door and locks it, before walking across the room and gently prying open the bag, spilling the contents onto the kitchen table. A single CD in a plastic case clatters onto the wood. No name or calling card.

"What is it?"

Play me is written across the top of the CD.

"Whatever it is, I doubt it's good."

His heart hammers in his chest and suspicion crawls up his spine. Olivia takes the disk and moves in front of the DVD player and television, opening the case and placing it in the device. He brings the TV to life and presses play after a moment's hesitation.

There's no sound on the video. The person who sent it to them was smart about this. No traceable noises or discernable sounds coming from anywhere near the camera.

The visual, however, makes them both hold their breaths.

On the television, Olivia is seen coming out of the bathroom first. Close behind her is Elliot, who tugs her backward onto his mouth. The video was taken from a vantage point that only allowed him to see the bedroom doors, the video taker wasn't inside the cabin. A second of relief is quickly washed away as the video zooms in, and Elliot is taking off Olivia's dress. The camera shakes a little bit as the person behind the video moves, attempting to see further into Elliot's bedroom.

They can't take their eyes off of the screen – their most intimate moments were captured on film.

The video cuts suddenly, and the image they see is much, much worse. The sound of a woman's cries echoes through the cabin. On the forest floor, the young woman struggles against the man holding her down with his foot as he videotapes her. He stomps her once, twice, and Olivia winces in the corner of Elliot's eye and places a hand over her mouth in shock.

"Elliot… Olivia…" The cameraman's low, dark voice calls out to them. "You're looking in all the wrong places. You could have saved her. Now she's going to die." The woman screams loudly in the background, but the tape covering her mouth muffles her cries. "Maybe I'll have to hit closer to home for you two to get motivated. Good luck, Detectives."

The tape ends.

Silence fills the cabin as fear creeps up Elliot's spine.

Maybe I'll have to hit closer to home for you two to get motivated.

A/N: BYE