Elliot's head hangs down, the throbbing in his eye increased with his position, but it helps him focus on something other than the words echoing in his brain. Olivia held hostage. Olivia in danger. Olivia traumatized. It's overwhelming and yet he knows it's barely scratching the surface.
Wheatley is in front of him now and he feels the press of the man's fingertips against his forehead, pushing him upright. He doesn't bother to focus on Wheatley's face, the arrogant posture predictable.
Wheatley chuckles, "What do you think, Liv? I'm guessing he'll never forgive himself." He leans into Elliot's space and lowers his voice. "Wouldn't mind if I put you out of your misery now, huh?"
Wheatley releases Elliot's head and it drops forward. He steps back, crossing to the foot of the bed once more.
"I did what you wanted, Richard. Now how about your end of the deal?" She's frowning up at him but he seems unaffected.
"Oh dear, sweet, Olivia. You didn't really expect me to follow through, Captain?" Wheatley presses his hand into his chest, his face pulling into a saccharine pout. "How adorably naïve."
He displays some level of shame as Olivia stares daggers at him and he shakes his head in denial. "You know, Captain, you really only have yourself to blame. I still feel you left out a lot of important items. It really is a good thing I pulled your jacket, got all the little details." His tone is scolding and he seats himself on the bed before he continues.
"Mr. Lewis was truly diabolical. I'm actually very impressed." He clears his throat, leans forward slightly. When he speaks again it's in a stage whisper, an act at keeping things between the two of them but Elliot hears every word. "Do you still have the scars? He really wanted to make sure you couldn't forget him, huh?"
Elliot can't bring himself to lift his head and look at Liv. Doesn't want to know at that moment what physical scars he inflicted on her along with the emotional and psychological ones. Doesn't want to know any more about what that monster did to her. He doesn't hear her respond at all and then Wheatley's voice is continuing, back into its usual register.
"The Russian Roulette was a particularly harrowing account. Did your life flash before your eyes?" His voice drops lower, "Did you think of Detective Stabler? I bet you did, every time you pulled that trigger."
He needs to look then, no matter how it hurts him. Elliot slowly lifts his head, gazing over at Olivia. He watches her eyes pull away from Wheatley, the fight seemingly drained from her. He prays it's an act for Wheatley's benefit. He tries, unsuccessfully, not to generate images of Olivia holding a gun to her head, the fear and pain as she pulled the trigger.
But Wheatley seems to be frustrated by her lack of engagement, the dissipation of her anger, and abruptly changes the topic. "Of course, there's been so many things that have happened since Mr. Lewis. Your precious son, for example. Did you tell Elliot about his biological parents? Do you feel closer to Noah because of his origins and how they parallel yours?"
Olivia has lifted her gaze to Wheatley again and glares icily at him. "You don't get to talk about my son." Her voice is deep, chilling.
"Fine, fine." Wheatley placates, a sly grin gracing his face. "I just thought Elliot might be interested to know you didn't pop out a baby with that IAB guy. I think his name rhymed with fucker?" Wheatley snaps his fingers, "Or that old flame of yours that came back, Cassidy? Gee, he really loved you didn't he? I mean I think they all really did. They just didn't have the staying power. It's like they knew your heart belonged elsewhere."
Olivia sighs, "This really is old news, Richard."
"Aw, am I late to the party?" Wheatley tsks. "Did you give dear Elliot the lowdown on how you hooked up with fucker? Because I am really curious how the rat harassed you for ten years, even arrested you, and you somehow dated him?! Were you that lonely?" Wheatley frowns pityingly at her.
Olivia exhales a small laugh, rubs a hand across her face and tilts her head at Wheatley, giving him an unimpressed sort of smile.
"I supposed I'm boring you again. And I really do want to be a good host, Olivia. Perhaps you and the detective need more time to chat." He glances over at Elliot, still locked into the chair.
"I suppose it's hard to get personal under these circumstances."
Wheatley appears to ponder Elliot for another moment before he snaps his fingers at the merc nearby and gestures to where Elliot is cuffed. Then Elliot is being uncuffed, the barrel of a gun digging into his lower back as he's nudged over to the bed.
They shove him onto the mattress, another mercenary maneuvering Olivia next to him and then he realizes that they've cuffed her to him, hooking them into the metal headboard. He's laying down on the mattress, Olivia perched on the edge next to him.
"Go on," Wheatley coaxes. "Lay down, Olivia." The tone is suggestive and Elliot feels Olivia sigh as she moves into place and he shifts a bit and then they're practically cuddling in the small bed under Wheatley's approving gaze.
"There, much better. Feel free to get a little freaky. After all, you're going to die and I do love a good show." He winks at them and then the room empties out and they're alone again.
Liv shifts, closing her eyes and sighing. "He's insane."
Elliot laughs and she opens her eyes and looks at him, questioningly. "You know I always thought that Stuckey thing was crazy. But he makes that idiot look completely normal."
He watches Liv's mouth curve up as she shakes her head softly.
Wheatley's left one hand free and he knows he should be plotting how they can take advantage of this and get out. But instead he reaches for her hand, laying on the bed between them, covers it with his own.
He sees her flinch and for a second he thinks he's hurt her, but he realizes she's seen his bare ring finger. He ignores it because out of everything it feels like the least important thing.
"I'm sorry I pushed. I'm sorry you had to talk about all of it like this. It wasn't right."
She sighs, her eyes dart to the door and then up to his face. "We'll talk about it later."
He slides his fingers up to Olivia's cheek, caressing, needing to comfort.
"Elliot," she whispers, a warning. He knows she's right. Is he really going to choose this moment to be tender, under Wheatley's watch? Their lives in danger? But he doesn't care. He leans into her, presses his lips against hers tentatively and she doesn't pull back, but melts into him, just a little.
After a moment she pulls back. "Not now," she whispers.
"You need to know...what he was saying. What I said to you that day-"
She cuts him off, "Stop. You can't talk like that."
"In case-"
"No. You can't talk like this is it."
He nods tersely, presses his lips to her forehead and is surprised to feel her wrap her free arm around his body. He allows his hand to move to the back of her head, cradling her against him.
"Is it my fault you left?" She asks suddenly.
"What?" he frowns down at her.
"Could I have done something different? Could…would you have stayed? Did I chase you away?"
"Liv, no. Don't - it wasn't your fault. It was me. I was wrong."
She's silent for so long he thinks she won't speak again. But then she takes a shaky breath.
"I missed you," she admits in a hush. He can feel her lips brush against his shirt. The words, the feel of her against him, he thinks he may cry in relief.
He presses her closer. "God, Liv. You have no idea how much I missed you. Every day."
There's a commotion then, beyond the door, and they pull away reluctantly. Liv sits up as the door slams open.
The armed men emerge first and the cuffs are being removed and reattached, Olivia into her own set. "Ok children, enough of the good times." Wheatley smiles but there's a hurried air about him that hints at trouble. Elliot looks over at Olivia and finds her eyes already pinned on him, and he knows they're thinking the same thing.
"Out we go. Things to do, things to do!" Wheatley leads the way out the door and the men drag Olivia and Elliot after him. They're moving through corridors and heavy doors and then they're outside and Elliot can hear the sounds of traffic, horns.
The men place Olivia a few feet away from him, turning her to face him and Wheatley steps between them.
"I'd really like to savor this moment. But I fear our time is running out." He gestures to the men holding Olivia and Elliot's eyes widen as they move to force her to her knees. But Olivia seems ready and her leg kicks out and there's a sickening crack as her boot connects with one man's knee and he cries out. The second man rears his gun back to hit her, but she pitches forward and he misses.
Elliot springs into action, his head knocking back and connecting with one of the men behind him. Before he can make a move against the other he feels a sharp pain against the side of his skull and he falls sideways, the world tilting around him. As he lands he hears the gunshot and he forces his eyes to stay open, trying to assess what's happening. He sees Olivia fall then, her eyes open, looking back at him, pain lacing through face. He blinks, struggling to stay awake as the gravel around him crunches. And then he notices the blood. A slowly growing pool starting at Olivia's hip, and slowly stretching out. He gasps, tries to call her name, but his head is spinning and he can't seem to find his voice.
He hears it then. Shouting, a cacophony of voices, more feet. And then Ayanna is leaning over him and calling out to others and before he can ask her to, she's moving to Liv, blocking his vision of her. And then he finally can't keep his eyes open a moment longer and he falls into darkness.