A/N: If there were a god, I would hope she loves the people who doubt her existence - Olivia Gatwood (If There Were A God)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.
As she glanced at the clock, her blood ran cold. It had been six and a half hours, already, and no one wanted to tell her anything. She didn't know what smelled worse, the couch she'd been sitting on or the stale, musty air in the police department's lounge. It wasn't like the ones in the city at all; here, there was no deluxe coffee maker or wall of computer monitors, there was a single desktop computer on a back table and a plug in percolator right beside it. When she'd asked why, a detective simply said, "Nothing ever happens in Lake Placid."
She knew they'd meant nothing that merited giving a large budget to this particular unit. There were a slew of hiking accidents, petty theft, a handful of "suspicious deaths" up in the mountains or bodies found in the lake, but nothing that required the specialized units like this one to have a staff of more than three. She looked at the clock again and grunted, tossing her sketchbook onto the water-stained coffee table. The leather-bound journal was brand new, purchased only a day ago at the campus store, and already it only had a single blank page left. She'd spent the time waiting by drawing the images she couldn't get out of her head and writing her thoughts into poems that were probably not going to be acceptable submissions to any contests at all.
Her nerves were shot now; her heart broke long ago, at the exact moment Elliot had agreed to be the lure to catch the slippery eel who'd been after them. Dropping her head back with a sigh, she closed her eyes and let the instance replay behind her curtained lids.
"On one condition."
Cragen had looked at him with eager hopefulness in his eyes. "Name it."
Elliot had kissed Olivia soundly. "Take her someplace safe," he'd told Cragen. "Keep her there until this is over." He'd glanced down the path. "Don't get DJ involved. This guy wants someone to play hostage, it's gonna be me. Just me."
"No!" Olivia had yelled, the tears springing to her eyes before she'd even had time to breathe. Her hands had clutched Elliot's shirt so tightly, her head shaking almost violently.
Elliot had grabbed her hands and looked into her eyes. "Trust me," he'd whispered. "I'm gonna be okay, just…" he'd looked up at Cragen. "Can you do that for me?"
Cragen had nodded, and in a flash, she and Elliot had been thrown into the back of a cruiser. The ride into the center of town had been short, and she'd heard Elliot praying as he'd kissed her over and over again. Olivia had only sent angry remarks into the universe, her faith in God had shattered long ago and instead of praying, she'd made a deal with whomever happened to be listening. She'd vowed to reaffirm her trust in the Lord if Elliot would come home to her unharmed and whole.
When the car had stopped, Elliot brought her into him for a long and powerful kiss that caused both of them to cry. Two officers had escorted her into the station while Cragen and Elliot had gotten into a blue Honda Civic. Her eyes had stayed on his until he'd been taken too far away to see.
The figure watching her from the doorway limped into the room, sat down beside her, and smiled at her sleeping form. The way her tear-streaked face was bathed in the dim lamplight broke his heart. He leaned over to swipe the hair out of her eyes, but he noticed the sketchbook on the table. Unable to stop himself, he grabbed it, opened it, and held his breath as he turned the pages.
The drawings took his breath away, especially the one of her and her mother, an obviously imagined moment of unconditional love. He flipped through drawings that seemed more like screenshots of her nightmares, some of him injured or worse, some of her in pain. He stopped to read each and every poem, the words piercing his heart like arrows, and he held back an audible cry he knew would wake her up. Thumbing the final page, he let the sob out as softly as he could as he started reading.
"The moment stolen, whisked until overbeaten and separated.
The fairy tale ending rewritten into a mid-novel plot-point so grossly underwritten.
One day we will film the sequel; the script already outlined. Bold. Italicized. Underlined.
To have and to hold, tighter and tighter with every breath.
For better, because it can only get better, or worse, God help us if it gets worse.
For richer, as love gains interest and multiplies until we are swimming in diamonds.
For poorer, as we forfeit and sacrifice for the chance to be saved.
In sickness and health and the moments in between when we feel everything at once.
To love with every ounce of blood in us, honor the sacred and unbreakable bond, and cherish,
Cherish with the power and grace of a thousand angels.
And not even death can pry us out of each other's safe and steadfast stronghold because there is no being, man or superman, god or demon, daring enough to face the wrath that will surely befall them if they so try.
Ripped from us out of fear and determination, we will rip it back tenfold, what is owed to us, what we deserve.
When you come home."
He wiped his eyes and sniffled, and then turned fast, gripping both of Olivia's shoulders. Yanking her upward, he heard her surprised gasp, but his crushing kiss stopped any other noise or utterance.
She grasped the sides of his head, kissing him back greedily, hungrily. As her hands swept down his back, she tasted something acrid and metallic in her mouth and pushed him away roughly. "What happened to you?" she breathed before even taking him in, at all.
He sighed, shaking his head, and brought his hand to his split lip. He swiped two fingers over the bleeding skin and let out an audible seethe. "Guy caught me off guard," he said, "But he's in worse shape, trust me." He winked at her and then pulled her into him again. "I told you I'd be fine."
"What…" she kissed him again and wiped the tears off of his cheeks. "What happened? Where's your father?" She shook her head and dropped herself into him, wrapping herself around him. "I was so scared."
"Me, too, beautiful," he whispered as he kissed the crown of her head. "My dad is...on his way back to Manhattan with the guy he arrested. Uh, Cragen...he's waiting for us. He wants to take us back to Northwood." He bent his head and kissed both of her cheeks, and then her chin. "They got the guy. I don't think you need the details." He cupped her face then, pulling her head off of his chest and turning her chin up. When he looked into her eyes he said, "I came home to you. I will always come home to you, Liv." He kissed her forehead, then her chin, and then her lips.
Cragen had walked into the room to get them ready to leave, but stopped when he saw them, listened to their exchange. As he stared at them and their devastatingly deep kiss, he turned to the woman standing beside him. "They're trapped in a nightmare," he whispered to her. "They're sixteen goddamn years old, they've been through enough tragedy to last the rest of their lives, none of this has been fair to them."
The woman sighed and nodded. "I know that, Donald," she sighed. "This is what he asked me for, and this is why I'm here. For whatever reason, they trust you, so I'm giving these to you. I don't think she wants to see me, I'm a reminder of the worst day of her life." She looked back at the tragic couple on the couch. "And he's the one who makes it all go away, isn't he."
Cragen smiled. "He is," he nodded. "He's made it his life's work." He tilted his head. "How can two people that young love each other so much? How could they possibly know?"
The woman folded her arms. "They've been each other's solace for years, Don. When you grow up the way that they did, and you find someone who makes you whole, you hold onto them and you attach yourself to every part of them. Everything is so much more intense because you're the…"
"I don't really need the psychoanalytics," Cragen mumbled. He sighed then, and then turned to her fully. "If he signs these, then he's completely on his own for the next year and a half. There's no coming back from this, and if he needs anything he…"
"If he needs anything," the woman interjected, "He will go to his parents, and they'll help, out of love not legality. He wanted an assurance that this bullshit stops, so here it is. This doesn't change much, they were both granted emancipation the day they were declared legally married. All this does is guarantee that Joseph Stabler and Serena Benson stay the hell away from them." She nodded once. "For good."
Cragen looked down at the family offense petitions in his hands. He read the words on the top, and briefly he wondered how bad things with Joe and his family really were and how long they'd been that way. "I could have stopped a lot of this," he whispered. "He was my partner, why didn't I see…"
"Because he didn't want you to see it," the woman said, "Now you know. Now you can stop it." She looked back at Olivia and Elliot, who had kissed themselves to sleep. "You can give them back what's left of their childhood."
Cragen exhaled. "Yeah," he turned, walking out of the room, and made the silent decision to let them sleep for a while. Once back in the unit's squadroom, he headed over to an empty chair and plopped himself into it. "Thanks for this, Simone," he said, waving the documents at her.
"I didn't do it for you," Simone Bryce returned with a smirk. She waved and walked out of the room.
Cragen chuckled and then dropped his head. He read the first page of the stack he held and then he let out a heavy breath. This would be the most painful thing he'd ever done.
A/N: Thanks for reading.