A/N: Time wears away the rough terrain left by wounds and heartbreak. - Anonymous
DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story, words, and dialogue are mine. © TStabler
The patrol squadroom of the Twentieth precinct is in decent shape. There are no broken windows or cracked floor tiles, there are two coffee pots and a full-size refrigerator in the back corner. The paint isn't peeling, all of the doors are secure on their hinges, and it's something that would have annoyed Elliot had he noticed.
He's been preoccupied, watching Olivia for the last fifteen minutes as she mills about and makes small talk with people she used to work with; he's in the middle of pretending to wait for a report that doesn't exist, and though he feels guilty for keeping the desk clerk busy looking for something she will never find, he's not sorry. Turning his attention from the empty clerk's desk back to Olivia, he feels his stomach sink and his heart pound, because he remembers why he's here. He licks his lips when she smiles at the man in front of her, knowing that small purple bruises in the shape of his mouth are littering the skin under the dark blue collar of her shirt. Now there's lust mixing with nerves and it makes his muscles twitch.
Grumbling, he pulls on his black pants; the way her uniform clings tighter to her body than it used to makes his cock stiffen. As his eyes wander down her body, he spies her clunky utility belt and it makes him think about cuffing her to the bed, using her nightstick to hold her down and make her beg for mercy, then trading places with her and submitting to her every whim. With another grunt, he rubs his eyes and tries to push aside his naughty cop fantasies in favor of focusing on the job he's really here to do.
Something the man currently talking to Olivia says to her makes him turn, straighten, and he readies himself to snap into action when the need arises. He takes a step forward, his ears perked and aimed like satellites toward his partner.
"I'm sorry?" Olivia tilts her head, her fingers curling around her navy blue cap as she turns it like a steering wheel in her hands. She tries to keep her smile polite and respectful, remembering her job takes priority over her pride. "I didn't hear you, Marty."
Martin Post, a mid-level officer, smirks at her. "I asked who you fucked to get the job," he says, his voice low. He scratches his shiny forehead, then swipes a hand down the front of his white uniform shirt, over his pot-belly, and moves closer to her. "You're not even fucking potty trained, yet, and you were just handed a D-shield in the highest-profile unit in the city?" He narrows his eyes, smiles more smugly, and says, "So tell me who you bent over for."
"I didn't," she spits out, genuinely offended, and she quirks an eyebrow. "I wouldn't, I just…" she lets out a nervous laugh, one she hopes comes off as flirtatious because she knows Marty likes it when his ego is stroked. "Guess I impressed them. I wasn't expecting it, but how could I turn it down?"
Post shakes his head and grimaces. "Yeah, yeah. Sure." Then he chuckles and turns to look over his shoulder. "Jackson!" he yells, and a man of similar age in a dark blue patrol uniform looks up curiously. "Got another rookie moving up and out before you," he laughs and sends the man a rude gesture. "Another chick with bigger balls than you." He laughs again then slaps a hand on Olivia's shoulder. "Congratulations," he says once, then shakes his head as he walks away.
Olivia lets out a relieved breath, then shifts her weight, swivels on her heels, and comes face to face with Officer Daniel Jackson. She gasps before laughing. "Danny, you need to wear a bell around your neck or something."
"So it's true?" Jackson narrows his eyes and tilts his head, moves one hand to grab Olivia's arm, and he licks his dry lips once. "You gonna be trading in the blues for a suit? Shiny new badge on your hip? You gonna say goodbye to me the right way, then, Benson?" His hand drops to her belt, then to the side of her body, and he slips his fingers around to smooth over her ass. "Ohh," he laughs when she jerks away from him and glares. "Feisty," he drops his gaze. "I like it."
"Knock it off," Olivia spits dryly as she turns. Rolling her eyes, she moves fast, shooting a quick look toward Elliot as she picks up speed, walking around the corner and through a door. The locker room is dark, smells like rust and body odor, but overpowered by the remnants of spray deodorant and cheap cologne. She heads over to the locker that used to be hers, the masking tape strip emblazoned with her name still on the front of the door. Her heart is racing as she toys with the lock, she knows Jackson followed her into the room, but she's aware that Elliot is right outside, listening, waiting.
Jackson watches as she opens her locker, and as she empties the contents of it into a small, black bag, he whistles once, signaling for another officer to come into the room.
When the door swings open, Olivia turns fast, expecting to see Elliot but immediately her heart stops. Her face falls and she carries on emptying out her locker. "Hi, Carter," she says flatly.
Jackson moves closer to her, his thick-soled boots clomping on the stone slab floor. "Benson," he chuckles and rubs the side of his face, "You got some nerve taking that job."
"It was an offer I couldn't turn down! An opportunity people would kill for," she responds, reaching up to the top shelf to grab some odds and ends like her razor and a can of hairspray. "I would have to be crazy not to…"
"You're too young to even be in that uniform," Jackson says, cutting her off as he takes another three steps. His fingers pull at the collar of her blue shirt roughly. "You want out of it that badly, I'll get you out of it." He yanks on the fabric and the top buttons go flying.
She hears them hit the floor and slide, assumes they're under benches and lockers now. "What the hell do you think you're…"
"Shh," he presses a finger to her lips as he eyes the man behind her. He nods and laughs when Olivia yelps in reaction to the way Carter hooks his arms around hers, holding her still. "Don't fight." Jackson grabs his gun with his left hand and raises it, caresses the side of her face with it, and he whispers, "You belong in the kitchen, Benson." His free hand moves from her neck to her waist, he unbuckles her belt deftly with two fingers and laughs when she wriggles and struggles. "Or on your back," he says, "Or your knees."
Olivia grunts, her hips jerking and rolling away from his strong hand. She feels the cold metallic barrel of the gun against her cheek, and part of her wants to wait and let Elliot come to the rescue the way she knows he needs to, but he's taking too damn long.
"Your pal Karen thought she was hot shit, too," Jackson slips a hand down into her unzipped pants, rubbing her thigh. "We had to put her back where she belonged, took the two of us a while. But I think you'll be easier to break, huh?" He lets out a low moan. "I'm gonna enjoy showing you who's boss, Benson, because you are…" he bites his lip and grunts. "So much hotter than Smythe. Younger. Probably sweeter, so much tighter," he pulls his hand back and cups her chin. "One rule. Call me 'Sir' when I fuck you," he commands, then starts to drag the zipper of his pants down.
Olivia can't wait for Elliot anymore. Using Carter as a jump-off, she leans back into his bracing body and kicks both of her feet up and forward, hitting Jackson hard, right in the stomach, and sending him sailing into the side row of lockers behind him.
"Bitch," Carter spits, and he raises one hand to strike her, but the cocking of a gun behind him makes him freeze. He gulps, refusing to turn around. When the gun presses against the back of his head, he raises both hands. "Come on, man," he says with a soft laugh, assuming it's someone from his own squad. "She deserves this! She needs to be reminded of her place!"
"Her place," Elliot speaks coolly, "Is by my side, you son of a bitch." He looks over at Olivia, watching as she readjusts her uniform and then bends to throw her cuffs on the crumpled pile of moaning snivel that Jackson has become. "Apologize to Detective Benson," he presses his gun against Carter's head a little more firmly. "Now!"
"Sorry," Carter hisses, his body shaking. "Sorry, Detective," he repeats when the man behind him wrenches one of his arms back. He closes his eyes and slumps when he feels the gun move and he mumbles something unintelligible when the man behind him slaps a cold cuff around his wrist. "Who the fuck are you, anyway?"
Olivia, pulling Jackson to his feet, smirks as she turns her head. "That's my partner," she says proudly, "Detective Stabler." She meets his bright eyes, gleaming with admiration and impression, but before she lets herself get wrapped up in his gaze, she looks down at Jackson, who's still bent over in pain. "Daniel Jackson, you're under arrest for assaulting an officer, the rape of Karen Smythe, the attempted rape of...well, me, and..."
"You can't prove shit," Jackson coughs, and he pulls his lips into a smug, twisted grin. "You're just a little girl, no one would believe you."
"Well, if you would've gotten my shirt off all the way," Olivia leans into him with a matching smirk, "You would've found the wire I'm wearing. It's all on tape." She chuckles as his face pales and she gives him a shove toward the door. "You have the right to remain silent," she speaks, and her voice carries on as she leads Jackson out into the hallway.
Elliot follows, reading Carter his rights, and drags the man through the lobby, past the disgruntled looking clerk, and pushes the glass doors open. Once the frigidity of the air hits him he turns and throws Carter into the arms of the nearest officer. "Don't show that asshole any professional courtesy," he orders, pointing a finger as they head for a squad car. Her voice hits his ears and he turns fast, planning to pull her into his arms and apologizing for being late, for giving her space to handle herself before he barged in, but the scene before him makes him stop short.
Cassidy has one hand on Olivia's right shoulder, squeezing in comfort. Jeffries is in front of her, holding out a bottle of water, which Olivia is politely refusing. Cragen, next to Jeffries, is taking her statement. Elliot presses the heels of his hands into his eyes as he walks over to them, clears his throat, and he asks as he looks into her eyes, "You okay?"
She nods at him once, but she notices the way he's looking at her. The flashing lights behind her seem to bathe him in a purple glow, making the starkness of his emotions clear. The milling and chattering around her is drowned out by the volume of his stare. Immeasurable lust, something she recognizes as love, a swirl of guilt, speckles of anger. Opening her mouth to speak, she takes a step toward him, but Cragen interrupts her with a stern question. "You didn't say anything that anyone could misconstrue as consent or permission?"
"What the hell kind of fucking question is that?" Elliot barks, offended and annoyed, before Olivia can answer. Taking what he believes is his rightful place by her side, he crosses his arms. "You know damn well that she would never…"
"El," she interrupts, then shakes her head at him. Turning her head toward Cragen, she sighs. "No, of course not, and it's all on tape so…" she taps the black battery pack that's still taped to her stomach. Scratching at the tape on her chest, she's brought back to Elliot's living room, a few hours ago, when he rigged the wire and recorder.
His hands hadn't been shaking the way they had the first time, months ago, but his touch had now been bolder, more sensual. He hadn't been nervous about touching the wrong part at all, purposely grazing her nipples and running across her stomach as he'd looped the wire and taped down the microphone.
Her attention is snapped back to the present when Cragen holds his hand out and she raises an eyebrow before slapping her palm down into his.
With an amused eye-roll, Cragen gives a heavy sigh and says, "The wire, Benson?" He can't hide his smirk, though, thinking of how young she is and how many department records she has already broken, the ones she'll be breaking with her partner soon. He chuckles when he sees the incredulous look on her face. "Have your partner shield you, if it's gonna bother you, but I do need it now." He chuckles again. "For crying out loud. Modesty isn't something many of the people in this unit still have. I'm not used to it."
Taking it as an order, she tilts her head once, pulls the top buttons of her uniform shirt apart, wondering if Jeffries would have been asked to do the same thing. "Fine," she whips back, and she's about to pull more of her snaps apart.
"Liv," Elliot moves fast, stepping in front of her to block the view of anyone else. "Christ." He looks down, watching her hands move as she pulls apart more buttons and tears the tape off of her skin with a small seething wince. You are too far gone now. "Fuck," he spits out softly. "You in this fucking uniform…" he gives her a look that means more than he can say.
She eyes him right back, purposely taking her time as she lifts the wire away from her skin. Feeling the other sets of eyes on her, then, she peels the tape off the pack and then folds one of her arms over her waist as she leans over, reaching around Elliot's broad body. You can smell him. She lets her hand flip forward, offering Cragen the wire. "Here," she says, "Sir."
Elliot turns to look over his shoulder, then turns back around sharply, pulling Olivia's shirt closed and snapping into the action of buttoning it back up. Shield her. Protect her. He lowers his voice and bends his head. "Cassidy was staring a little too hard," he whispers into her ear. "No one…ever. No one else will ever…"
"Relax," she whispers back, then gently pushes him away. Take your own advice. Eyeing Jeffries and Cassidy, she asks, "Was he this protective of his last partner?" It's as much of a cover she can offer at this point, but she hopes it's enough to explain away his actions without getting either of them into trouble.
Jeffries chuckles. "I don't think so," she says, and she licks her lips. "Don't take offense, he's got kids. One around your age, you know that. He's...just being a daddy." She drags her eyes over to Elliot, lets her gaze roam over him once, and her expression changes as she lifts her water bottle to her lips.
Olivia notices the look in Monique's eyes and scoffs, then asks Cragen, "How are we playing this? Do I bring up Karen right off the bat, or is Elliot…"
"You two can't run this one," Cragen interjects, wagging a finger at them. "Conflict of interest. You know these guys, you worked with them, and I'm not saying you'd cover for them, for IAB would question every move you make." He picks at a piece of tape she'd missed. "You did one hell of a job in there, Benson, but it's just...that was all you could do."
Annoyed, Olivia huffs and crosses her arms. "Shit," she spits, "Can we go home, then? I worked my ass off to get out of this uniform, being back in it is giving me hives."
Cragen nods, wrapping the wire and mic around the black box in his hand, trying to forget that she said 'we' and hoping it doesn't mean what he's afraid it does. "Go," he tells her, "I gotta run this down to TARU. Jeffries, you and Cassidy get back to the house, Tucker's meeting you there." He points to the idling vehicles. "Handle this delicately, but hand these two their asses." He watches as Jeffries pulls Cassidy by his sleeve toward a black car, then he looks narrowly at Elliot. He crooks his fingers almost angrily. "Stabler, a word?"
Elliot whispers something to Olivia before he hops over to Cragen and pulls on his tie. "We did everything by the book," he starts, "No one had any idea that…"
"Listen to me," Cragen interrupts and he knots his brows together and jabs a finger into Elliot's chest. "You're going to answer this question, the first time I ask it, and if I don't like the answer, we're going to have a serious problem." He ignores the confused aggravation scrawled on Elliot's face and lets his own rage take over. He pulls on his brown sleeves, leans forward, and on a growl he speaks. "What is going on with you and Benson?"
"She's my partner," Elliot snaps back, his own eyebrows angled into a sharp V. "Ya know, you're the one that practically threw her in my lap because my last one crapped out on me and moved to Florida!"
"You know what I mean!" Cragen hisses. Sending a cautious glance toward Olivia, he exhales. "I noticed," he flicks his eyes back to Elliot's, "The way you were with her at the hospital. The looks you gave her, the fact that you wouldn't let go of her damn hand. Now, she is half your age! If I find out that you're taking advantage of her admiration of you and how much she looks up to you, there will be Hell to pay!"
"I would never," Elliot fumes, his voice low and his eyes dark. "How long have you known me?"
Cragen folds his arms. "Long enough to know that ego of yours can get you into trouble! You spent how many years happily married, and when that crashed and burned, you shut down! I know after that, a guy like you would latch onto the first hot, young thing that looks at you sideways!"
"She's my partner!" Elliot repeats, and he angles his eyes and tilts his body forward. "I was with her at the hospital because she needed me! Do you know she doesn't have anyone else in the city? Besides her mother, no other family, all her friends were either at work or…"
"I hope I'm wrong," Cragen interrupts again. "I had better be, but if I'm not... I hope you know what the hell you're doing, and that whatever you're doing doesn't drag this unit down into a pile of shit." He grunts once, shaking his head again, and then eyes Olivia. "You sure you're okay?"
"Just fine," she gives him a curt bow of her head. "Thanks."
Cragen looks at her more intently, then gives her a soft, quick jerk of his head. "Good work, tonight," he says, "Take the rest of the day. Get some sleep, go see Karen, check on your mom…"
"Right," she scoffs at the to-do list Cragen has just given her, and she shoots a glance at Elliot. "Later, Stabler," she offers for the sake of their captain and the lie he's just been told.
"It's four in the morning," Elliot retorts, "I'm not letting you walk home." He eyes Cragen and smirks a bit. "Can I give her a ride, or is that too inappropriate for you?"
With a relenting sigh, Cragen nods. "Take her home," he gives, and he watches with curious dissension as they fade into the crowd of officers.
"You're good at that," Olivia whispers to him, "Lying." Her left brow quirks as they stroll up to Elliot's truck. When she looks into his eyes, she stills and watches his body move into hers, his hand grips her door's handle, and he bends his head until his lips are so close to hers, she can feel his breath hit her mouth. "El?"
"Get in the car," he speaks in a low and gravelly voice, pulling the door open. He pecks her lips fast. Once. Knowing they're too far away from Cragen and hidden by other people. He grins at her as she gets into the passenger seat, buckles up, and then he exhales and closes his eyes, trying to decide if telling her the secret he's harboring before the sun comes up is a good idea or not.
When he gets settled behind the wheel, he looks over at her, shrugs once, and says, "I didn't lie to him. I told him you were my partner because you are, I told him I would never take advantage of you, because I wouldn't, that's not what I fucking did, not what I'm doing." He coughs once. "What we're doing. The rest of it?" He turns the key and licks his lips. "None of his business."
She smirks as he drives, and her attention is pulled toward the window as the car starts to move. "I get why we can't handle the interrogation," she states, "I worked with those guys. Saw them every day, spent nights in the pen with them. They never…"
"You didn't know them," he interrupts her. "Not really." Silently, he thanks God for it; that she didn't know them well, that they'd never tried to hurt her before, that she'd gotten away from them tonight. Biting his lip, he turns the wheel and heads across the avenue toward the east end of the city. "Hey, uh, listen."
She answers him, though she's still staring out the window, watching tall metallic buildings turn into rows of brick townhouses. "I'm listening."
Chuckling at her reply, he breathes again. "We're gonna get a few hours of actual sleep, then get the kids up and off to school, and... I will take you to see Karen, we can pay your mom a visit, spend the day together." He flips the blinker and turns the wheel again. "Okay, but then, uh...there's someone I need to talk to, down at the station. He's, um, coming in voluntarily, five o'clock, tonight."
Her head turns. "Who?" She asks the question but she already knows. He did it. He fucking did it. "Who is it?" Her heart starts to race, and the longer he takes to answer her, the more she's sure her instincts are right. "Elliot?"
"You can't…" he licks his lips and steers the car down his street. When he parks, he turns the truck off but makes no moves to get out of the vehicle. Reaching over to her, he grabs her left hand. "Please. Please, don't be mad at me for this."
As the realization sets in, the emotions rise and build and pour out without permission. Slow tears roll out of her open eyes, but she's silent. All she can do is squeeze his hand. "You called Simon?"
"Yeah," he nods, and he clears his throat because he feels like crying right along with her. "I shouldn't have. I know that. I told him that I needed to talk to his father about a cold case, which, I mean, that's not exactly a lie, but I have to tell Cragen before the guy shows up, and he already thinks I'm some kind of cradle-robbing asshole." He looks at her, trying to smile. "Baby, I have to talk to that man, ask him the questions that I know you need answers to, and I have to be the one that…" his words fall away.
She wipes her eyes as she opens her door to get out of the truck, needing the cold dawn to fill her lungs and keep her from sobbing or yelling. Soon, you'll know. She feels his arms around her before she even notices he's gotten out of the truck and walked around to her side of it. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yes, I did," he affirms, silencing her. He cups her face and leans forward. It's your job to do this for her. Pressing her against the side of his truck, he works his body into hers and kisses her once, deeply. "I had to be the one that brought the bastard in, so that what happened yesterday never happens again, you need answers, your mother needs justice. You both need closure, and I promised you, the day I met you, that whatever you needed…" he kisses the end of her nose, her chin, her lips once more. "It's my job to get it for you, give it to you."
She sniffles and nods, a strangled laugh escaping, and she wraps her arms around his neck. "What are you gonna tell Cragen?"
"No idea," he chuckles, "I'll figure it out." He tugs, prying her body away from the truck, and he kisses her neck as he guides her up the walkway toward the stone steps of his place.
She feels his body, firm and steady behind her, and she laughs when he refuses to let go of her, choosing to unlock the door with both arms wrapped around her. The way he struggles amuses her, because he's too busy nipping at the tattoo behind her ear to watch what he's doing. When the door unlatches, his triumphant grunt sends chills down her spine, his voice and hot breath landing right on her ear, and when he pushes her into the foyer, he kicks the door closed behind him and spins her around. With a laugh, she shoves her boots off of her feet and says, "You're absolutely…"
"Crazy about you," he finishes, and he takes off his own shoes as he lets his eyes travel the hills and valleys of her body, taking the time to appreciate the way the uniform hugs and bends. "This thing," he hooks his fingers through the loops on her shoulders. "Brings back memories," he chuckles. It wasn't that long ago. His knuckles drag down the front of her shirt, his fingertips flick at the buttons and snaps, and then he fingers the gold nameplate on her chest. Don't even think about it. It's too soon. She's too young. His head snaps up in response to his own thoughts, the first time he's ever considered her age in anything. Blinking, he shakes it off, then moves closer to her. "Upstairs," he smacks her ass, and as she laughs, she moves.
When she's far enough ahead of him, he pulls out his phone, and instead of waiting to tell the captain, he sends the man a lengthy text message, one he knows won't be read for a few hours, buying himself time to make his act of impulsive mild insubordination seem legit. When he reaches the landing, he shoves his phone back into his pocket,then rushes to catch up to her, and loops one arm around her waist. "Excuse me, Officer Benson," he teases, carrying her into his bedroom. He sways his hip to the left, closing the door with it, and then makes quick work of peeling her shirt open. "I don't think this," he slips a finger under the strap of her black lace bra, "is regulation."
"What are you gonna do about it, Detective Stabler?" she asks, taunting him, moving slowly backward as she unbuckles her belt and slips down the zipper of her pants. Her right brow is arced and her smirk is wicked, she knows she's playing with fire but the morning has already taken too many serious turns, and she needs this. She needs him. Make him beg for it. As her pants drop, she kicks them off, then folds her arms, daring him to move.
Without a sound, he looks into her eyes, bringing his hands up to the clasp at her back. With a snap of his fingers, it pulls apart, and he whispers, "I'm gonna have to take it into evidence." He licks a thin trail from her collarbone to just behind her ear, traces her tattoo with the tip of his tongue. "Wearing it is a serious crime," he says softly, and he grips her hips as he bends his head, dropping kisses to her chest. "Endangered my life," he mumbles as he sucks her right nipple into his mouth, "Could have caused a heart attack."
She moans, following his lead as he ushers her down onto the mattress. Her hands work diligently to get him out of his suit, all thoughts beyond him fade. For now, she won't worry about her former colleagues' violent turns, her brother, or the man who raped her mother. For the moment, all that exists is here, now, her, him, this. When she hears his pants hit the hardwood, she closes her eyes. As he crawls over her, she moans his name. Let him love you. Her hands smooth down his shoulders, across his back, and slip under his chin, holding his face as he brushes his nose against hers. "Elliot," she whispers, "I…"
He kisses her before she can say anything else, thrusts his hips and enters her in one powerful motion. Settling, he moans her name, it lands on her tongue, and he stays still, letting himself feel how perfectly he fits inside of her, how she takes all of him, how purely erotic and intimate this moment is and how often he takes it for granted. "God, Liv," he mumbles when their kiss breaks, and he rubs his forehead against hers as he opens his eyes. You'll never survive without her now. You're fucked. Slowly, he moves, out completely, pushing into her again until his pelvis touches hers, and his whole body tingles.
This is why it has to be him. Why he needs to be the one to finally find her missing pieces, put her puzzle together. He realizes what he has with her is intense, and it's something no one else understands, no one approves. As he thrusts deeply, he kisses her again, promising her that none of it fucking matters. His worst fear is losing her, and he knows it's a reality he could be facing if he fucks up anymore than he already has. His impatience is his downfall, his selfishness is often his undoing, and when it comes to her, both are out of his control because his need to hold onto her is stronger than anything.
If they make it through the day, he'll tell her what he wants, and he hopes that whatever happens, it won't change the fact that she wants the same damn thing.
A/N: Elliot talks to Olivia's brother...and father. Next. (Yes, it was supposed to happen in this chapter but it was getting far too long. Apologies)