A/N: I hustled as best I could to get this chapter done in a decent amount of time. Happy Thanksgiving to my US readers! Hope you enjoy. The wait for chapter 8 will probably be a bit longer, so savor this one. Lol Thanks for all the encouragement and kind words! Reviews always welcome. Also, I decided that at the end of the Talisman series, I'll publish an Appendix outlining my Bensler playlist, in case any of you are curious what songs fuel my shipdom.
Spoilers: The Lewis arc, vaguely.
Rating: Strong M – please heed the warning
Disclaimer: I literally have no dollars. Don't waste yours suing me. I clearly don't own these characters – or else I would have more than no dollars. Thanks for lending them to me.
Talisman: 7
I had entered into a marriage/In the summer of my twenty-first year/… No more a rake and no more a bachelor/I was wedded and it whetted my thirst/Until her womb started spilling out babies/Only then did I reckon my curse – The Rake's Song, The Decemberists
While Elliot had slept and then woke to his worst nightmare, Olivia woke to find herself momentarily curious if she had made it to heaven.
She lay there, her eyes coming to focus on the dazzling white ceiling. She tried taking inventory – curling her toes, trying to move her arms, enjoying the sensation of stiff muscles stretching, of blood rushing. Enjoying even the tender ache that was her entire chest.
When she finally turned her head on the pillow, what she saw stopped up her breath. Noah and Elliot were both asleep, together in the chair alongside the bed. Liv's son had his arm slung around El's neck, and his head pillowed on the man's shoulder, as if they had known each other their entire lives. She watched the rise and fall of Elliott's chest, lifting the boy in time with its rhythm.
Not her chest, nor the steady noise of the IV and heart monitors had convinced her she was back in the world. But the fire of awe, love and gratitude that ignited, throbbing wildly, meant that she hadn't died, after all.
As badly as she wanted to hug Noah, and hear Elliott's voice, Olivia didn't make a sound. Certain moments demand to be committed to memory. But, as is the case with almost all toddlers, the more you want them to stay asleep, the sooner they'll awaken. Noah stirred in El's arms, trying to turn over, which in turn caused El to rise to the surface, too. The boy succeeded first – facing forward and yawning. At last, his gaze fell to the bed.
"Mama?" his voice cautious. Then he saw her blink, try to smile. "Mama!" He shouted, and bounced in El's lap. Noah picked up one of the man's hands and tugging on it with excitement. "El, she's up! Mama is awake!"
Elliot lifted from the chair then, so quickly that Noah was nearly toppled to the floor. Caught, at the last second by the armpits, he was hoisted up to El's hip as the two boys peered down into Liv's excited face.
"Liv!" El said, voice thick with sleep and emotion. "Thank God!"
"Hi Mama!" Noah said, his arms reaching for her.
"Easy, bud." Elliot helped the boy lean down to place a loud kiss on his mother's cheek. "Liv," he reached out a hand, caressing her forehead gently, "how're you feeling?"
"Alive," she answered, "and a bit tender."
"You want me to call the nurse?"
"I'm okay," Liv said, making him laugh at her unshakeable stubbornness. "What happened?"
Elliot opened his mouth to answer, but was cut short by Noah. "You were asleep a long time, Mama. El told me stories."
"I missed you, my sweet boy."
"He said you're the prettiest person he worked with in the whole world!"
Liv looked to Elliot. "Did he?" She raised an eyebrow, could almost swear that he was blushing.
He wished that he had remembered that there were no secrets with toddlers, and no metaphors. "I –"
"Liv?!"
The three of them looked to the doorway.
ii.
Rollins was back with Jesse. She hurried to the bed, smiling brightly. "How're you feelin'? That was some scare you gave us!"
"I'm okay, Rollins. You been holding down the fort?"
"Well, Fin more than me, but we're getting' by." Amanda looked across to Elliot. "I guess this means you get to go home for a shower now, huh?"
Olivia looked to El curiously, but said nothing. "Thank you, Amanda, for taking care of Noah."
"Thank you," Rollins chuckled, "for bein' bulletproof." She looked at Noah. "C'mon, little man. Let's get you home for dinner."
"What about Mama?" he pouted.
"I'll bring you to see her again, tomorrow," she assured him.
"And El?"
Elliot set Noah on his feet and looked at him. "I'll be here, too. Promise."
They watched Rollins leave with the kids in tow, and for a few minutes said nothing. He drew the chair up to the bed and sat again.
It was Liv who finally broke the silence: "You need a shave, Stabler."
He scrubbed his hand across the shadow of a beard he was sporting and smiled. "Yeah? Not a fan of the rugged look?"
She stretched out a hand to scratch the growth for herself. "You look tired, not rugged," she smirked, pushing El's cheek playfully.
"Good to see getting shot didn't hurt your sense of humor."
Slowly, her smile faded. "What happened, Elliot?"
He took a deep breath. "You were in the basement with Hewitt. The two of you came out of this room . . . it was just so damn dark, Liv. I tried to pull you far enough to the side to keep you out of the way, but . . ." he sighed, shrugged, "CSU says Hewitt and I shot pretty much at the same time. He got you. They had to remove the bullet from your lung."
"And Hewitt?"
"He's dead," Elliot told her. "I shot him in the head."
Olivia let out a breath, her head falling to the pillow. "Elliot . . . what were you even doing there?"
"I was hired to investigate Hewitt."
"For rape?"
"No – for being a shitty employee," El said, "I had no idea SVU was workin' him." He frowned and touched her hand hesitantly. "Liv. I'm so sorry. I just . . . wanted you to be safe."
"I might be dead if you hadn't been there. You have nothing to apologize for."
Elliot bit his lip. "You scared the piss outta me. Thought I was the one who's supposed to get hurt."
"Like I told you, partner – things change."
He ached to kiss her. But a lot of things stay the same, he thought.
iii.
Elliot returned home to a house that was just as quiet as he had left it, two days prior. Kathy had texted him to let him know she was at a parent-teacher meeting for Eli, who was at a friend's house for dinner.
Running on nothing but fumes and muscle memory, he managed to shower, and then face-plant into the bed. Which is where he stayed, until after the sun had gone down. He found clean jeans and a white t-shirt, over which he pulled on the grey hoodie that Liv once shared with him. It was thread-bare in places, having seen better days, but Elliot would never consider throwing it out.
Eli was back home, doing homework on the bed in his room. Elliot stopped to look in on him. "Hey Champ. How was supper at Eric's?"
"Good. When did you get home?"
"Few hours ago."
"Is your friend better?" Eli asked.
His father marvelled at how different Eli was from his brother, Richard. The sandy-haired boy didn't have a hint of a temper, and was born with a wisdom far beyond his few years. "Better, yeah," El answered.
Downstairs, he wandered into the kitchen, stomach growling, Cracking open a Pepsi, he rummaged in the fridge until a container of leftover spaghetti manifested itself. By the time the microwave chimed, Elliot was feeling almost back to whatever passed for normal. He turned with his spaghetti to the kitchen island and cold soda. And that's where he stopped short.
On the island counter was a legal-size envelope with a post-it note stuck to it. The note read, 'Elliott's Copy.' His swallow of Pepsi burned a harsh path down his throat.
"How is Olivia?"
Elliot turned his head to discover Kathy in the kitchen doorway. When he didn't answer her question, she joined him at the island. She glanced down at the envelope, then back up to his face.
"Come on, Elliot. Relax." Kathy was calm. Almost smiling. "I don't want to fight with you." She shrugged. "Deep down . . . we both know this is what we want. And need.
"You said it yourself: we deserve to be happy. Our marriage has been a lonely place . . . for a long time. I want us both to have more, while there's still time. This is not like the last time, Elliot. This –" Kathy motioned a hand between them, "is dead and buried."
When he finally spoke, El's voice was hoarse with grief, exhaustion, relief and gratitude. "I won't fight it. But I am sorry, Kathy. I am. I hope . . . that you don't find yourself lonely, ever again."
"Thank you, for being a good father, and a good man. Is Olivia okay?"
"She's awake," he sniffed, "outta the woods."
Kathy nodded. "Good. Tell her you love her, Elliot." She chuckled at his wide eyes, like he was a child caught with his hand down his pants. "Don't look so shocked," she chided, "I'm not completely oblivious. You left me for Olivia, years ago. I've just been too selfish to let you go."
He opened his mouth, to tell her he had never been unfaithful, but she held up a hand. "You didn't sleep with her – I know. You're both too righteous for that. I think that almost makes it worse. She makes you happy, Elliot. After all the time the two of you have given to SVU . . . at least let yourselves have each other."
Kathy leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Now eat your leftovers - they're getting cold." She left the kitchen as quietly as she had arrived.
For his part, Elliot stared into his spaghetti for long minutes, seeing if he could sort out how he felt. He noshed lukewarm pasta, washed it down with the soda, marvelling at the story of his own life; its lines drawn so clearly in the sand.
He wondered, was there still time enough to write an epilogue?
The rest of the night found him back on the balcony, where the cold air was familiar, but the dark seemed so changed.
iv.
The procession of well wishes and flowers was in full swing by the time El made it back to Mercy General the next morning. Liv had her color back, and was sitting up in bed, which got him smiling before he could help himself.
"Hey – you shaved!" she smiled.
"Yep," he nodded, "showered too. Guess I'm still good for doin' as told." He reached the bed and bent to place a kiss on Liv's forehead. "How're you feeling?"
"Much better. Anxious to get out of here."
El chuckled as he dropped into the bedside chair. "Oh yeah? You're not a boomerang, Benson. They just pulled a bullet outta you."
"I feel fine!"
"Well. Stabler. You clean up good." Rollins approached the bed with her thumbs hooked into the belt loops of her jeans. The kids weren't with her, and Elliot was surprised to realize it disappointed him. "How you doin', Lieutenant?"
"As I am trying to tell everybody: I'm fine," Liv said firmly.
"Mmm," Amanda acknowledged, biting her lip to keep from chuckling.
Liv rolled her eyes. "How's the squad?"
"Oh, you know - we're all just havin' a party without you . . ." Rollins winked at Elliot. "I mean, Barba ran off with his assistant, Carisi stopped goin'ta church. And Fin and I . . . we renamed the unit the Special Vixen's Unit."
Liv expelled the breath she was holding and tried to relax. "Sorry, Amanda. I just . . . don't take very well to being looked after."
El crossed his arms over his chest. "There's an understatement."
Studying him, Rollins' eyes fell to his hands. His wedding ring was gone from his finger. "Well. Speakin' of the Vixen's Unit - I gotta get back to work. Fin's not half so vixen-like without me."
"Where's Noah?" El asked.
"With Lucy," Amanda told them. "I asked her to bring him here, after she drops Jesse off with Kim this afternoon. That alright?"
"That's fine."
It was Elliot who responded, and both women looked at him with surprise. He cleared his throat and fixed his gaze between his feet.
"I'll see you tonight, Liv." Rollins left them on their own, but it hardly lasted, as the doctor was the next to come into the room.
El got to his feet. "I'll . . . I can wait outside the door –"
"No. Stay," Liv told him. "Please."
"Lieutenant Benson! Looking much better than when we first saw you!" The older man pressed fingers to her wrist, counting off her pulse by his watch. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm feeling tired of that question," Olivia laughed. She shrugged. "I feel . . . fine. Tender, maybe, a little. But otherwise, fine," she insisted. "Any idea when I can get out of here?"
Elliot shook his head in amusement and disbelief.
"Well, sooner than you might think," the doctor said, scribbling notes in the chart. "I'm going to remove your chest dressings today. If you're still improving steadily by tomorrow, we'll have you discharged in the afternoon."
"When will I be able to work?"
El bit his tongue.
"Now, now, Lieutenant," the doctor chuckled, "some rest won't hurt you." He went about taking the bandages off. "Sponge bathing only, for the first couple of days. No exerting yourself, for a while. You can go back to the office in a few weeks, but active duty? Oh, not for at least a couple of months, I'm afraid."
Olivia sighed as the doctor finished, patting her incision dry after cleaning it. "Looks good. Just let your husband take care of you for a while – try and enjoy it." The doctor winked at Elliot.
"He's not –" Liv started.
"I'll look after her, doc," El cut her off and smiled. "Thanks."
v.
The day had come and gone much more quickly with Liv awake. Elliot had watched, silently, while Liv spent time with Noah in the afternoon, and then took the boy out for something to eat before he went home to Rollins.
Being around the toddler made El realize how much he missed having little ones around – despite all his daydreaming about Eli being grown.
As the hospital began to drift toward its quietest part of the day, Elliot found himself back in the chair in Olivia's room, dozing on and off in time with the muffled beeps of monitors.
"I miss you," he heard Liv say.
El's eyes opened, but he remained still, wondering if she was talking in her sleep.
She spoke: again: "I miss us. We were so good together. It was easy. Well . . . mostly easy, anyway . . ."
He sat up, turning to her, watching her eyes.
"I miss the long conversations in the car, and knowing how we like our coffee. Going at a Perl in the box until they cracked." Liv rolled her head so her eyes met El's. "Don't get me wrong – being Lieutenant is fine, just in a different way. And I know that otherwise, I wouldn't have the time for Noah that I do.
"But . . . you were my whole life for 12 years, El. I guess I just . . . want something to be easy again."
Elliot stepped to the edge of the bed, never taking his eyes from her. "Liv, I'm so sorry. And I don't just mean for being gone all this time. But . . ." he let out a breath and verbalized his thoughts from the basement: "none of us can play cops and robbers forever. Everything you have, you earned. You have other parts of your life now, that deserve the same time and dedication."
Liv turned her head away, emotional and frustrated, but Elliot brought a hand to her cheek, tipping her face to his again. "Hey. I missed you, too. Missed us. But, if you'll have me . . . I'd like to stay with you, and Noah, for a while, when you go home tomorrow."
She looked at him as if he had just started speaking an alien language. "What would Kathy think?" she asked, burrowing her brows.
Elliot pulled his hand back from her face and held it, the back of his hand facing her. He wiggled his fingers to highlight the lack of his wedding ring. Liv's eyes went wide.
"El . . . no – what did you do?"
"What I should have done the first time, years ago," he said, without hesitation.
Still, she gaped at him, trying to read his face.
"So, what do you say? Think you can put up with me for a while?"
Liv couldn't help, then, to smirk at him. "Well, I did manage it for twelve years, so. . . ."
vi.
If it was easy that Liv wanted, then for once, Elliot didn't have to second-guess whether he was giving her the right thing. Other than her grumbling over him helping with things, the first evening home went notably smoothly.
Noah enjoyed having Elliot around the house, and – though she would never admit it – Olivia was tickled watching El be domestic. He fussed over the apartment, making a list of things that needed to be picked up at the store, tidying the things that Liv normally never got around to, and checking on her at regular intervals.
For the first time in maybe years, Liv found her place truly feeling like a home. If only she could curb her natural instinct to respond with fatalism., curb her need to push.
After supper, Elliot played with Noah until he tired out, then got him into bed. The apartment fell into peaceful silence. When he came to her on the couch, she was nodding off from her pain meds. El touched her shoulder gently, rousing her as best he could.
"Liv . . . you should get cleaned up before you go to bed," he smiled. "I can give you a hand, if you want."
That got her eyes open. And her heart pounding. "What? No. I can manage," Liv told him.
He helped her to her feet and watched her sleepy plod to the bathroom, where he had placed a chair from the kitchen for her to sit in. There was also a bowl of hot water, a washcloth and towels on the counter. Vaguely, Liv wondered if Kathy had ever gotten this kind of treatment.
Elliot poured himself a glass of wine – beer was already added to the shopping list – and let himself rest. First ten, then 20 . . . he let thirty minutes pass without hearing a peep from the bathroom, before he got to his feet to investigate.
"Liv? You alright?" Elliot knocked lightly on the door. No words, but he thought he had heard a sniffle. He bit his lip. "Hey – Liv."
He took a deep breath. "I'm coming in, Liv."
He opened the door. Liv was sitting in the chair, in only a pair of underwear, with the unused cloth sitting wet in her hands. Her eyes were cast down, and red-rimmed from her quiet tears. El stepped to her, reaching for a towel from the counter. "Here," he said softly, shaking it open and laying it haphazardly over her breasts. She used one hand to hold it, disinterestedly.
"What's the matter?" he asked, taking the wet cloth and busying himself wringing it out, then running fresh hot water.
"I'm going to be fifty, El."
"Are you bragging?" he deadpanned.
Ignoring him, she looked up. "What am I doing, running around getting shot?" She motioned her free hand toward Noah's bedroom, "And! I've got a kid! God, what is wrong with me?!"
Elliot wetted the cloth from the bowl, then stepped behind her, judging it safer than facing her, for the moment. Gently, he moved her hair aside and wiped the nape of her neck. Then her shoulders, admiring every freckle and beauty mark as he went.
"Liv," he spoke, keeping his voice low, "your career has been amazing. There's nothing wrong with you. It's just that . . ." El sighed, "no good thing lasts forever, y'know?
"We all get there, eventually. It makes you tired, chasing the bad guys, when you know there's just gonna be three more around every corner." He nudged her to lean forward, and when she did, he washed her back, all the way down to her panty line.
"Are you saying I should . . . retire?" Her chest tightened at the thought of a second man asking her to put down her shield.
"No; SVU has been your life. The only person who gets to decide when you're done is you." He moved to the side of the chair and worked on her arms and hands. "All I'm saying is, don't be afraid to redefine your priorities."
Liv's skin was raising goosebumps as it cooled, and also because the feel of his hands on her was so foreign and good. She shivered, closing her eyes. "After Lewis . . ." Liv took a deep breath, "and then when Noah came not my life, I . . . I told myself I was done. That Noah was all I had ever wanted. But I just couldn't walk away. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't . . . let go," she whispered.
Elliot dropped the washcloth in the bowl, and came around to face her. Her eyes were closed. He crouched in front of her. "Olivia," his talisman spilled from his lips, "if any part of that was my fault, for leaving . . . then know that I am sorry. So sorry."
Liv opened her eyes, admiring the angular lines of Elliot's jaw, the concern in his eyes. All his muscles pulled taut, to hold his crouching position. She licked her lips. The air in the room was electric.
"I love you, Elliot." It was out of her mouth before she even comprehended it: her words gone rogue in want of freedom from being held in for so long.
Both of them, their breathing stilled. Then Elliot dropped one knee to the bathroom tile, leaning in, up, kissing her with all the force of their years kept platonic. He kissed her until they started breathing again, tasting her plump lips and the warm silk of her tongue. "I. Love. You, too," he gasped slowly, into her mouth.
As the kiss broke, Liv sunk her teeth into his bottom lip, sending El's desire shooting all the way to the tips of his toes. "Please," she whispered, and the hand holding the towel to her chest fell away, setting Elliot's heart thundering recklessly.
"Liv," he hesitated, "the doctor said no exerting yourself. I don't wanna hurt you."
"Then don't let me exert myself," she said, matter-of-factly, and smiled, wickedly.
Slowly, El got to his feet. He wet the cloth again, then stood in front of Liv, between her knees. For a long moment, he didn't move – more afraid to fuck up than he had ever been in his life. Then, he tipped her face up with a finger under her chin.
The washcloth swiped slowly, her neck and the hollow of her throat. Then lower, making her eyes close as he wiped over, then under her breasts. She shivered again, and Elliot's cock grew harder, thrumming to the race of his heart. Elliot bent slightly forward, pressing his lips to the spot behind her earlobe, kissing firmly.
"El!" she gasped softly, and Elliot silently praised God at the sound.
He let a hand drop to her breast, warming it with the palm, before his fingers tugged and grazed the nipple that was near to trembling to scratch glass from being pulled so taut.
"Need you in my mouth," El mumbled, and crouched again, warming the opposite breast as his mouth enveloped a dusky nipple.
Liv arched, pushing forward on the chair, the apex of her thighs flooding. Like tectonic plates shifting, it was like feeling her life move, then settle, to allow for the fact of their coming together. He feasted on the second nipple, nibbling, swirling, and her head spun.
El left her just long enough to rinse and wring the cloth, then was back, to lovingly wipe her belly and hips, the outside of her thighs. Kissing her mouth, he slipped his fingers into the edges of her panties, encouraging Liv to lift her ass.
When she was naked on the chair, Elliot looked at her – like a lover does, not a squad partner. There was no miserable marriage, no unspoken rule, no precinct whispers fro hold him back. His eyes were storming with want, with admiration and a sense of relief, at having survived long enough to earn a nearly unattainable privilege. Then, his eyes recognized one of the scars he had noted in the hospital. His look softened.
Reaching out a hand, El touched the scar lightly. "Olivia . . ." his voice was thick with emotion.
"Lewis," Liv whispered. "He . . . tortured me. Abducted me. Threatened to . . . rape me. Drugged me, beat me. She fell silent and met his gaze.
Elliot's fist was urged into his thigh. "God, Liv, I . . . wish I could have –"
"I know," she cut in, pressing her forehead to his. "I wanted you to."
"Forgive me," he grated out, "for not . . ."
"I forgive you," she told him, soothing the stubborn Catholic in him.
Elliot let out a shaky breath. "I love you."
In response, Liv took his hand, spreading her knees open, and drew it to her heat. He barely even brushed her labia, and still, his fingers came back wet. Settling onto both knees, he pushed the chair back a little across the floor. His hands drew her ass forward, then flattened against the insides of her thighs. Her pussy was so open to him, the display felt nearly vulgar. She had never wanted any man this much.
vii.
Holy God, El thought, seeing her sex glisten with moisture. He knelt forward, and drew his tongue from her entrance, all the way to the hood of her clit, twitching under his mouth. El let the taste of her roll over his taste buds, and growled with a bliss he hadn't felt in years.
He repeated the motion, and heard Liv whimper as her hands fell to his head, fingers digging. As Elliot sucked her clit in earnest, he reached with one hand to free his strangled cock from his jeans. She tried, desperately, to maintain some semblance of control, as her breathing became rapid and her hips trembled, threatening to buck.
Elliot was a thorough man, and his face shone with desire, with her juices as he devoured every crevice of her folds.
"Jesus, Elliot," Liv moaned, letting her pussy ride his face. "Unghhh . . . Jesus!"
When he finally withdrew, it was so he could rub his thumb over her clit, while slipping one, then two fingers into her eager hole.
"Fuck!" she bit out, and his thumb flew from her clit to her lips.
"Shh," he soothed, "don't wake Noah – we might die," he chuckled. El watched her, heavy-lidded as her mouth pulled his fingers in, sucking on them. It got his other hand back in motion, moving slowly, firmly against her swollen ridges, seeking her G-spot.
Liv whimpered on his fingers, her hips trembling again. She was wet enough to hear his fucking her; her clit was a white heat under his thumb. Plucking his fingers from her mouth, El leaned in, close enough to kiss her.
"Liv," he husked out, "Liv . . . come for me." His tongue flicked out, tracing her bottom lip. His cock twitched. "Come on my fingers, Olivia."
His voice grunting her name brought her all the way home, clenching, gasping, dripping. He held her steady in the chair, careful of her incision, as she finished quaking and opened her eyes.
"Elliot," she said breathlessly, moved by the look of satisfaction on his face. She wet her lips with her tongue and sat up straighter as she admired his erection. Straining and neglected, it was twitching, too – his precum threatening to drip. Liv reached for him. "Let me-"
But Elliot drew back as if burned.
viii.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," he said softly. "I just don't want you overdoing it. Doctor's orders," El smiled sheepishly.
"Elliot!" Olivia was incredulous.
"I'm serious."
She pouted. Glanced down to his cock again. Then had an idea and raised an eyebrow. "Okay . . . then you do it."
"What?"
Liv grinned. "Do it – and let me watch," she told him.
He didn't move.
"C'mon, Stabler," she teased, "no need to pretend like it'd be the first time you ever got off thinking of me."
She had a point.
He undid his belt and pushed his jeans and underwear down below his ass. El stripped off his t-shirt, then wrapped a hand around himself.
"Are you blushing, Detective Stabler?" she smirked.
Instead of answering he started stroking his cock. Instinctually, his eyes closed. His head fell back, and he shuddered.
Olivia leaned forward in the chair, sliding her hand over his well-defined pecs and belly. "I can't wait to fuck you," she breathed. It made him grunt. He stroked faster. "I've waited a lifetime, to feel you come inside me."
El's eyes flew open. "Oh God," he groaned at the thought. He felt her hand drift, slowly, past the root of him, and then softly fondle his balls, tingling with the need to empty.
"Oh. Ohhh. Liv," he bit out. He was only able to manage monosyllables, so he chose his favorite one: "Liv . . . Liv . . . Liv . . ."
Then he was coming, hot sprays of come hit his chest and erupted down over his fingers. When he opened his eyes, her own dark ones were sparkling at him. It made him feel proud, wild.
She touched a finger to the mess on his hand, then drew it to her mouth and sucked. She let out a happy sigh.
"I'm fifty-one y'know," he panted, "try not to kill me before you get a chance to enjoy me, huh?"