Pretty Poems
Chapter 1
I'm just about to leave the office when I think of something. I shuffle through my pants pocket and pull out my cell phone. My fingers automatically dial the first number that pops into my head. Olivia's.
"Benson?" her voice scratches when she answers on the second ring.
"Hey Liv, I-" miss you, want you with every fiber of my being, love you, "hope you're feeling better!"
Yeah, I know, lame ending to what could have been a soul-searching conversation, but I don't want her to die on me. She breaks into a spastic fit of coughs, as though to prove my point that just about a poke would give her a myocardial infarction, and I know that she is probably feeling even worse than the last time I called her, which was sometime this morning.
"Thanks," she chokes out when her coughing subsides, and I feel my heart break for her.
Her coughing is deep in her chest, and it sounds really painful. She might have bronchitis, in which case, nothing could keep me from being at her house, spoon feeding her honey and chamomile tea until she feels one hundred and ten percent better.
"Do you want anything Livy? I can drop it at your apartment,"
She coughs again and clears her throat, "El?" I can barley hear her. "Can you bring me the Malcolm Case File? I'm kind of behind on my paperwork."
I try not to chuckle. I don't think Olivia has missed a single day of work since she started working here six years ago. Sure, when it was a question of either taking some time off or turning in her badge she would leave, but that usually happened to me. Even on the day her mother died, Liv came to work. On the one day that she is out, she asks for a case file
"Sure thing partner, um" I pause; I have no idea where the file is.
She reads my mind, after more coughing, "It's on my desk El,"
"Okay, thanks sweetie!" I wait for her to mumble a goodbye and hang up first before I close my phone.
I grab my coat and pull it over my shoulders and head to my locker. I snatch the apple I have inside and place it in my mouth to hold it with my teeth. It's my dinner and seeing as I haven't eaten since lunch, seven hours ago, I'm starving.
I wave goodbye to Cragen, Munch and Fin have already left, and pull the main glass door open. I take the stairs down to the ground floor instead of the elevator and listen to the small thuds my dress shoes make against the linoleum tiles.
I turn the key in the ignition of my brown sedan and pull out of the small parking lot in front of the precinct. At the first red light I realize something. I forgot Liv's file. I make an illegal u-turn and head back to the station house.
Her desk has a couple file folders on it and I open each one to find the Malcolm Case. It's not any of them. I open her first drawer and a piece of paper catches my eye. My name is written across it in some sort of black marker and it's folded in thirds.
I tell myself I'm not going to look at it, but my hands gently grasp it of their own accord. I slowly unfold it and run my fingers along the creases, smelling her perfume subtly cling to the sheet. My eyes are drawn to the flowing handwriting, dancing across the page.
Dear Elliot,
Sometimes when I go to bed I pull the blankets tight,
And close my eyes and try to see your face with all my might.
We've been together many years as colleagues and as friends,
But now my heart is telling me this dance of ours must end.
You've come to mean so much to me, much more than I can say,
The happiest moments of my life are spent with you each day.
I know you have another girl who brings smiles to your eyes,
And I would rather eat my gun than turn your vows to lies.
I know you're protective of me; it's your job to keep me well,
But I can't ever buy your heart, no matter what I sell.
You're always there to fix me up and heal me when I ache,
But then I have to let you go and my heart always breaks.
Yet in you late night phone calls and our private talks, we two,
You'll never hear me say it, though I mean it, I love you.
I give myself a moment to let the message sink in, part of me is admiring Liv's poetry, the other part is saying I better get my act together and get to her house soon. I sprint out of the precinct, this time grabbing her file on my way out.
I don't remember any of the car rides to her house, I don't remember where I parked my car, and I don't remember climbing the stairs to her front door.
I knock a few times and listen for an answer.
"It's open," Liv calls back, her throat obviously pained.
I turned the doorknob and tiptoe inside, Olivia is curled up in a large black armchair with a purple afghan draped around her slim body. Our eyes lock and she smiles softly at me. Light from her floor lamp is radiantly bathing her body in a golden glow and she looks like an angel.
"Hey," I whisper, moving to sit at her feet, and handing her the file.
She gives me a weak smile and I feel like a lost puppy, begging for anything she throws to me.
"Thanks," I can hear her swallow her cough and I hope she doesn't notice the concern fill me eyes at the action.
She does.
"I'm fine El," she rasps at me and I hoist myself to my knees and basically crawl towards her. "It's nothing, I feel okay."
I don't believe her. "Bull, Livia! Baby, you're sick as a dog!"
For a second, I imagine that a small smile flickers across her face when the pet name falls from my mouth, but it's gone in an instant and I'm convinced I was wrong.
"Wouldn't I tell you if something was wrong?" she's trying not to chuckle.
I take her hands in one of mine and with the other I tilt her face to look at mine. "No," I reply, suddenly very aware of how close we are to each other.
"You know me too well," her voice is reduced to a soft whisper, one that caresses my ears and sings through my head, spreading chills down my spine.
But she's wrong; I don't know her well enough. I don't know wether she likes hard of soft kisses, if she prefers hot sex or sweet love, I don't know half of what I'd like to know about her. I'm sure as hell willing to find answers now.
I let my hand slip around the back of her neck and I see her eyes flit to my mouth. That's all the encouraging my instinct needs, I let my lips gently bump hers.
She sighs softly against my mouth and I grasp her bottom lips gently with my teeth, pulling her mouth open to my questing tongue. Our kiss becomes hotter and deeper until she forcefully pushes me away, and I almost fall over.
I stare up at her can feel the heat rolling off of both our bodies, she might have a fever, if I made her any sicker I'll never forgive myself, only right now I'm too preoccupied with all the blood in my body flowing south to think about guilt right now.
"I can't" she mumbles, staring down I her shaking hands.
My wife and I aren't divorced, just separated so there is no reason why my heart should be breaking into a billion pieces but it is.
"I don't want you to get sick." She whispers, still not looking at me.
In response to her soft acclamation I let my lips brush against her throat about an inch under her ear. She relaxes into me and moans softly.
"Shh Baby," I croon into her ear, feeling her shudder under my gentle touches.
Her lips seek mine again and I feel lost in her love. I push her farther back into the armchair and her file falls onto the hardwood floor, her letter spilling out from the folder.
Liv looks at it then at me and blushes a deep red. I take in her pink tinged skin, mussed hair and bruised lips, her chest heaving with each breath she takes. I count silently to ten, trying to stave off the need to rip her clothes off then.
"I love you Olivia," I whisper, pulling her into a tight hug, feeling her snuggle in my embrace.
"I love you too!" is the response I get.
tbc……… If people like it.