A/N: Mentions of Lewis and generalized pain and suffering...Thanks for reading and your lovely reviews!
"Is that why you haven't told him yet?" His voice is louder now, sharper. "About the worst of what he missed. The worst that he didn't protect you from?"
Olivia seems steadier now too and she studies him a moment before responding. "I'm surprised you didn't tell him. Since you're so keen on hurting him."
Richard smiles slowly, "Ah, how well you know me, Captain. Although, I do think it would be more fun if he heard it from you."
"And why would I do that?" Her voice is almost flirtatious as she smirks at him.
"Well, for one, wouldn't it be a good way to punish him for leaving? To tell him what he missed?" Wheatley eyes Elliot.
Olivia scoffs, "And here I thought you knew me."
Wheatley returns his gaze to Olivia, "Captain Benson, paragon of virtue. Fine, if not to hurt him, then for a reward. You tell him, and I'll let you go. Maybe you'll even be able to get back here in time to save him."
Olivia sighs, "Why should I believe you?"
Wheatley pouts, "Oh, I suppose you shouldn't. But there is honor among thieves, so to speak. And in this case, I'm willing to give you my word." He leans in close as he says it.
But Olivia doesn't seem to buy the promise. "And what's to stop you from killing him the moment I'm gone?"
Wheatley shrugs, "Chance you'll have to take."
Olivia shakes her head. "Fine," Wheatley snaps. "I'll sweeten the deal. I'll uncuff you and leave the two of you alone to chat."
"Wouldn't that defeat your enjoyment of this?" Olivia asks with a smirk.
"Oh, I didn't say I wouldn't be watching," Richard grins at her. "But at least you can pretend you have some privacy while you rehash the greatest trauma of your life." Richard's gaze moves to Elliot as he speaks, watching him pale at the words.
Olivia blows out a breath, avoiding both Wheatley and Elliot's gazes. Richard seems to take this as agreement because he reaches for her cuffs, but then pauses and looks at her assessingly. "You realize if you try anything my friend over there is going to shoot loverboy in the knee. Or perhaps leave him with a gut wound." Olivia nods tersely in acknowledgement and Wheatley undoes the cuffs, pausing between to examine her wrists, sliding his fingers over her skin as Elliot watches on, jaw clenching.
"Be good now," Wheatley turns and swaggers out the door, the mercenaries slowly and watchfully following in his wake.
And then they're alone and he watches Olivia run her fingers around her own wrists as she sits up on the bed. She moves slowly to him, bends down in front of him. "Are you ok?" Her voice is hushed, concerned as she takes her first good look at his swelling eye. She reaches up tentatively, pressing as gently as she can around his socket as she checks to make sure nothing is broken. He winces under her touch, but still turns his cheek into her palm and she holds it there for a lingering moment.
"I'm sorry," he replies quietly.
"Not your fault." She tells him steadily and he shakes his head in response. "I should have warned you. I should have told you that he knew about you." He's looking at her sadly through his one good eye, the other barely open.
"What do we do?" Olivia asks, seeming to avoid the reminder of the drawn out conversation they've just finished with Wheatley.
"This isn't what I uncuffed you for." Wheatley's voice crashes into the room and they both start, heads swiveling to the door before they realize it's coming over a set of speakers. "That touch was cute and all. But we made a deal."
Olivia stands, raising her hands in a mock surrender, turning to scan the room, "Fine. Fine."
"Well, go on, Captain. Rip his heart out." The sound of the speakers dies down and Olivia presses her fingers to her forehead. All thought of planning an escape lost if Wheatley can overhear them.
"Tell me, Liv." She hears from where Elliot sits behind her and she paces back to the bed, sits heavily onto the floor, her back pressed against it. She lays her entwined fingers on top of her raised knees and blows out a tired breath.
"You don't want to know. And I don't want to tell you." She leans her head back against the mattress, closes her eyes.
"I need to know." Elliot says quietly back. "I almost asked Ayanna, almost pulled your jacket. I need to know, because this not knowing - ten years of not knowing - I can't do it anymore."
Olivia opens her eyes and looks over at Elliot's steady gaze.
"You could have known a long time ago. There were a lot of ways that you could have known." There's a ring of accusation and she watches him bow his head.
"When I made the decision to leave...I knew I could never give you what you deserved. And I knew if I didn't cut down to the roots...that I'd never let go of you. The only way was to blow it all up. Make it hurt so bad that we both had to move on. So we couldn't look back." Elliot tilts his head back and laughs raspily, "It didn't work. But that's what I thought I had to do."
He looks back towards her and meets her gaze, "Maybe it worked for you, if you hate me."
Liv stares at him sadly and sighs, "Wheatley's right...it's a thin line, El."
He wants so badly to touch her then but she's the one who gets to keep them apart right now and he fidgets in the chair he's locked into.
They're still watching each other, her wary gaze stifling his ability to read any other emotion from her. But he holds her eyes with his, hopes she can see the pleading.
"There was a perp," she starts, voice wavering. "He would go after women he knew...kidnap, torture, rape...for days. Kill them when he was ready."
Their eyes have been locked as she's started this, but now suddenly her gaze pulls to her hands, her fingers pressing together. She takes an unsteady breath, forging on. "We lost him on a technicality." She closes her eyes for a long moment and slowly opens them, focusing again on her hands. "And that's when he came for me."
"Liv-" he chokes on her name. His eye throbs as he feels his heart begin to race, a cold sweat pricking across his body.
"He had me for four days. He tortured me. He dragged me along and made me watch while he raped and murdered. I kept...I kept waiting for my turn." Her voice is raw and then all he can hear is the rush of blood in his ears, the knowledge of the results of his abandonment.
"Liv…" and this time he knows he's crying, can feel the sting of the tears against his bad eye.
"I overpowered him. I got out before he could…" She says these words in a rush, and he isn't sure if it's to comfort him or herself.
"Yeah, but did you tie him down and beat him up?" Wheatley sneers over the speakers and Elliot is still staring at her and sees her whole body stiffen.
Her voice is hard when she responds, "That's his story and it's a lie."
"Mmm the virtuous Captain Benson, of course." But there's an undercurrent of disbelief in his voice and Elliot knows just as well as Wheatley does that Olivia is lying. He feels a warmth of pride for her strength, her fortitude.
"But there's more, isn't there Captain?"
Elliot feels sick at the words. More.
Olivia sighs heavily, again, as if the story is exhausting her, and he knows that it must be. "He acted as his own lawyer, I had to go through his cross-exam."
"And then?" Wheatley coaxes.
"I thought you were leaving us alone for this." Olivia huffs in frustration.
"Ya know Liv, I need to make sure you don't leave out any of those pesky details. You strike me as someone who would say they're just fine even with a knife in their gut."
Elliot watches Liv roll her eyes, and yet he can't help but admit that Wheatley is right, once again.
"We won his case, but he escaped from prison. He goaded me into chasing him." Her tone is nearly exasperated now. Like dealing with Wheatley has distracted her from the harrowing emotions of retelling this tale.
But Elliot's angry now, rage bubbling low in the pit of his stomach. "And you went to him." Elliot grits the statement out between his clenched teeth. Because he knows Olivia. Knows she has never learned when to back down. Knows he was one of the few speed bumps in her crusade to win at all costs, to self-destruct in the process.
She lifts her eyes to him, hearing his tone. "What else was I supposed to do?" And now he sees she's angry too, frustrated that he disapproves of this heroic act.
"Take care of yourself for once in your goddamn life." His jaw is still clenched as he bites out the words at her, hurling them in the space between them.
"Is that what you would have done, stopped me?" She rises to her feet, her voice is dangerously low and some part of his brain is warning him that the trap is set even as he stumbles right into it.
"You're damn straight. If you're not going to take care of yourself then somebody needs to fucking do it." His voice gets louder over each successive word and when he stops speaking the silence is deafening.
"But you weren't here. Were you?" She nearly vibrates with angry energy. "Every second he had me, I thought of you. I wondered where you were. I wondered what you'd do. For months after, I kept expecting you to call. It was fucking everywhere, Elliot. Everybody knew. All the phone calls I got from people I hadn't seen since my academy days. The flowers, the encouragement. But from you…" She lifts her hands, gesturing to the nothing he provided in her time of need.
"So yeah...maybe when he showed up again, when I had the option to stay away or to go...maybe I thought it didn't matter what happened to me. It didn't matter if I died if I could just stop him." The vibration in her body has turned into a shaking and he watches her grit her teeth against it, trying to fend it off. She curls forward, sitting onto the bed, her face dropping into her hands as she exerts the effort to calm herself.
"I'm sorry," He manages, even as his wrists bite into the cuffs that restrain him. If he wanted to touch her before, he needs to now, desperately. "I should have been there. I should have had your back." The same pithy regret he's held to for a decade. Inadequate before, unacceptable now. He understands now their argument, her silence. He bows his head before the idea that she'll never be able to forgive him.
He looks up as Olivia uncurls, placing her hands against the mattress where she sits and staring unemotionally at the floor. The door swings open suddenly and he jerks his head towards it as Olivia shoots to her feet. The merc at the door gestures with his gun and she sits back on the bed.
Wheatley brushes past the man and then the rest follow him through the door. He's clapping in delight as he strides in. "Yes! How did it feel, Olivia? Delivering the cold, hard truth?" He grins at her from the foot of the bed but she's settled back into some sort of cool detachment and she doesn't respond to him. Wheatley spares a glance towards Elliot, "Well, I'm happy. That right there is a broken man."