Chapter Six: To the Victor Go the Spoils

Kathy lay quietly watching her husband's thoughts flit across his face. They had been cuddled together for quite some time, and if it weren't for the constant motion of his hand rubbing circles on her back she would have thought he was dreaming. From his expressions, though, she knew he was not onlyawake but thinking hard about something.

Finally, he looked at her through his long, dark lashes and asked timidly, "What if I had said yes, and that Olivia and I had already done it?"

"I knew you wouldn't," she said simply.

"Say it or do it?" he asked.

"Both."

"How can you be so sure?"

"The man I married wouldn't do that," she said confidently.

"A lot can change in twenty years, though," he told her.

"Yeah, but not that, not you."

He had thought, more than once over the past year, that it would have been so easy with Olivia. Kathy was his wife, his high school sweetheart, the mother of his children, and though he would have laughed at the word if anyone else had used it, they were soul mates. But Olivia was his partner in so many other ways. She was so much more to him than just a beautiful woman who happened to be his friend and colleague. She cared deeply for him, as he did for her. They protected each other, and weren't afraid to argue when they disagreed. They could yell at each other when they were stressed out and then five minutes later, split the last muffin in the vending machine. She understood the job in a way Kathy never would, and she didn't need him to talk about it to share his pain on a tough case. He really did love her, and after Kathy left, it would have been so easy to seek comfort in her bed. She'd never offered, probably because she knew he wasn't strong enough to say no, but he knew in his heart, if he had asked, she wouldn't have turned him down.

"You have a lot of faith in me, Kath, maybe more than I deserve," he finally said, feeling deeply flattered.

"You've always been faithful," she said softly, "maybe more than I deserve."

She gave him a moment to take in what she was saying, then continued, "Elliot, I want you to know, I thought long and hard about that question before I decided to ask it. I don't mind that you think about her once in a while. Like I said, something would be wrong if you didn't, and I knew, given the circumstances, if you had, uh, pursued something with her, I would have forgiven you, if you asked. I can forgive a mistake, Elliot," she said very seriously, "but not a lie to cover it up."

He knew what she was doing, giving him one last chance to admit to a major screw up, and he was thankful that he had no confession to make. He made sure he met her gaze and held it when he answered her. "I have never done anything, Kathy, with anyone, except for you."

She nodded and smiled, her eyes glowing warm with love. "Ok."

"But, you really did consider the possibility that I might?" he asked, a little surprised that she had seriously entertained the thought.

She grinned at him and, wanting to lighten the mood, said, "Yeah, but only like you think of buying that Harley."

"Oh, ha, ha," he said sarcastically and tickled her a little. She jumped and squealed and pulled away form him.

"On your back," she ordered, "hands underneath you again."

Once he had complied, she curled up beside him and began rubbing her hand up and down his chest and stomach, caressing his skin again. When they were comfortably relaxed together, she said, "Next question. Why didn't you call me when you'd been shot?"

He looked at her and frowned. "I already told you, I thought you wanted to be rid of me."

"Right, now I want the whole truth," she said, and gently ran a finger over his ticklish spot making him jump and gasp.

"Ok, ok, I was being stubborn," he admitted, feeling strange about how easy it was to be candid about the matter. "I didn't want to appear to need you more than you needed me, and I didn't want you to come just because I needed you."

"I would have come because I love you," she said.

"I know that now, but then, well, can I just chalk it up to the pain medication?" he asked. "I didn't make a lot of really good decisions last year, and if I take full responsibility for all of them at one time, I'm gonna feel pretty stupid."

Kathy chuckled, appreciating his candor and amused by his reasoning. "Ok, pain pills it is, for now, but some day, we're going to have to really talk about it, all right?"

He hesitated a moment, but then agreed with a nod. "Just not now."

Deciding she rather liked it when she was facing him, watching him enjoy what she was doing to him, she moved to kneel between his legs again. He seemed happy to oblige, making room for her and raising his knees. She stroked his flesh, plied him with kisses, and when she ran her hands up his sides, she was surprised again by how prominent his ribs were. He really had lost weight, and it worried her.

"What have you been cooking for yourself?" she asked.

He laughed sarcastically and said, "Take off the 'what' and I can answer no."

"Elliot . . . " she began apologetically.

"Look, it's all right, Kath," he reassured her, "but when have you ever known me to cook?"

"So, what have you been eating?"

"Cereal, pasta, TV dinners. Burgers and fries are about as elaborate as I get unless I pick something up on the way home."

He didn't seem particularly concerned about his dining habits, but it made her sad. She knew he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but she could do better and wished she had been there for him.

"Oh, Elliot," she sighed.

Sensing her dismay, he sat up to face her. Gently pushing her hair out of the way, he caressed her cheek, pulled her close, and kissed her. Softly bumping his forehead to hers, he hushed her, "Shh. It's ok, Kath. You did what was best for you and the kids. Given the choice, I'd put my family first every time."

"But, Elliot . . . "

"But nothing," he said, quietly emphatic. "You did the right thing. You know that, don't you?"

She nodded, her mouth slightly open as if she were about to say something more. Determined to end her doubts, he kissed her deeply, and when they broke apart breathlessly, he said, "What's done is done. Let's just move on from here."

She nodded, and, in a voice husky with emotion said, "I have two questions left."

He laughed softly, surprised by her tenacity and focus. Lying back with his hands under him again, he willingly opened himself to her questions. He couldn't remember the last time it had been so easy to talk. Her game had seemed like a strange, almost kinky, idea to begin with, but he had to admit it was working for him.

"Ask away," he said.

She took her time with him, covering his body with kisses, working her way from his mouth down his neck, across both collarbones, paying special attention to his nipples when she got to his chest, and then moving down toward his navel. She didn't stop until he was moaning softly and thrusting gently against her. Then she moved to sit beside him, Indian-style.

"Oh, God! Kath, what are you trying to do to me?" he gasped, though his tone made clear how much he was enjoying himself.

She giggled slightly. "I'm just trying to help you relax," she said.

He laughed with her. "You stopped a little too soon for that."

She smiled and ran a fingernail lightly down his midline until she reached the edge of the V of dark hair between his legs. He closed his eyes, moaned and squirmed, raised his hips slightly, and moved against her. She pulled her hand away and chuckled when he gave a disappointed whimper.

"So, what's the best thing you've seen on TV lately?"

His eyes popped open in surprise. "What the hell?" he asked. "You're all over the map, you know that?"

"Part of my strategy," she said in jest. "Keep you off balance. Now, answer my question."

"You don't need to ask off the wall questions to keep me off balance, you know. You're doing a great job of that without asking any questions at all," he told her with an almost lecherous grin, then he frowned thoughtfully. "I guess the best thing I've watched lately would have to be something about Saturday Night Live's greatest moments. I think it was on E! or VH1, I'm not sure."

"What did they show?"

"Oh, there were at least a hundred clips," he told her. "Everything from the Shcweddy Balls skit with Alec Baldwin to The Church Lady and the Samurai Delicatessen."

"What about The Blues Brothers?" Kathy asked, naming the famous characters with whom John Belushi and Dan Ackroyd formed a band, made several albums, and a movie.

"Oh, yeah, they were on there," he said with a laugh, "and the Hans and Franz sketch where Schwarzenegger hosted, Weekend Update, Sprockets, the Boston Teens, Roseanne Roseannadanna, Father Guido Sarducci, and the episode of Coffee Talk where Streisand shows up and surprises them."

"Why was it the best thing you've seen lately?" she asked.

He sighed, grew serious, and said with a small smile, "It made me laugh for the first time in a long time."

Kathy was quiet for several moments. Slowly, her eyes welled up with tears, and when they spilled down her cheeks, Elliot turned to free one of his hands and reached out to gently wipe them away. Then he pulled her down to him in an embrace and she curled up against him, her head resting on his chest.

"Hey, now," he whispered into her hair, "why the tears?"

She sniffled and turned her head to look up at him. "I'm trying to keep things light, and you go and say something like that."

"I didn't say it to make you sad, Kath."

"I know," she sniffed, "and that only makes it worse."

He sighed, and moved around in the bed until he was able to face her. "Look, Kath, we've both hurt each other a lot in the past couple of years. I know I'm responsible for causing most of the pain, and I can't tell you how sorry I am, there just aren't words for it. Let's agree that the past is done and plan to do better in the future. Then, I can stop feeling guilty and you can stop feeling sad, ok?"

"You mean just pretend it never happened?" she asked softly.

"No," he said patiently, knowing he had said and done things she couldn't easily forget, "I mean agree that we can forgive each other and move on."

She was lying beside him now, her head resting on his shoulder as she rubbed her fingers along his breastbone. For a long time, she was quiet, struggling to let go of so many painful moments, so many things she wanted him to own up to and apologize for, and then she started crying in earnest.

As she sobbed against his chest, Elliot soothed her and hushed her, muttering sweet nothings until her tears slackened enough for her to speak. Finally, he asked her, "Kathy, tell me what's wrong?"

"I've just realized," she gasped, still weeping softly, "I've been keeping score all this time."

"I don't understand what you mean. Keeping score?" he said.

"Of all the things you owe me apologies for," she said, "and all the things I have to tell you I'm sorry about."

"Does it really matter, as long as we treat each other better from now on?"

"NO!" she wailed, and turned away from him in embarrassment, "And that's why I feel like such an idiot, because I have been acting like it does. Elliot, how can you stand me?"

"Stand you? Kathy, I love you!"

His arm was still around her, and she interlaced her fingers with his and kissed the back of his hand. "I love you, too," she said, "and . . . I'm sorry . . . for being so petty."

He kissed her on the top of the head. "Me, too. So, can we just agree to go on from here?"

"Ok," she said in a tiny voice, and for a while, they just lay there in each other's arms again.

Elliot savored the moment cuddled up in bed with his wife. A few hours ago, he would have thought he'd never touch her again, yet here they were, spooned together like newlyweds. As she lay on her side on the extra firm mattress, the curve of her waist created a natural arch for him to slide his arm through, and when he pulled her into his embrace, she had entwined her fingers with his. With every breath, he inhaled her scent and felt her hair tickling his face, and he wished he could stay right there forever.

As Kathy lay in her husband's arms, she could feel his arousal pressing against her, and she couldn't remember ever wanting him more. Ironically, the one thing that prevented her from satisfying her venal urges was the fact that, for the first time in such a long time, he seemed happy to relax and enjoy the emotional intimacy they had found together. She felt his warm, moist breath stirring in her hair, the smooth gold of his wedding band as their fingers twined together, the hair on his body tickling her lightly with every breath, and she could keep still no longer. When she heard his low, soft moan, she knew what was going to happen.

"I have one more question," she said teasingly.

"Oh, do you?" There was humor in his tone, but also a deep longing.

"Yes, I do," she told him, serious now as she rolled over to face him.

"Then you better ask it quick," he said.

She kissed him a couple more times, drawing out the moment, and then shifted to be sure she was looking him in the eye. His behavior when they had first started the game had raised a new question in her mind, and now was her chance to ask it. None of the other answers had mattered to her as much as just getting him talking, but this one, well, she had no idea what he might say or how she would react to his reply. It was a risk she didn't have to take, she knew, because she already had a safe question prepared, but he had been so open and willing to talk, she wasn't sure she would ever get such a chance again. Taking her courage in both hands, she finally asked him.

"When we first started this game, when I put the handcuffs on you, your reaction surprised me. You were so scared. I want you to tell me why."

She felt him tense up in her arms, noticed that his breathing quickened, and he looked down to avoid her gaze.

"Elliot, you can tell me," she said, and she gently tilted his head so he was looking her in the eye again.

He closed his eyes, rolled out of her embrace, and lay on his back beside her with his arms folded over his chest.

"Elliot . . . "

"Give me a minute, will ya?"

Elliot didn't like thinking about Ray Schenkel. He'd made a lot of mistakes on that case. He still wasn't quite sure how or why Cragen had saved his ass when Ray had grabbed that girl, but he knew Internal Affairs should have been asking questions. He'd thought the shrink in the therapy group had been a moron, but the fact was, the guy had warned him about his rage just weeks before he'd unloaded on Pete Breslin. Even worse than nearly getting himself killed and an innocent young woman raped, was the private knowledge that he'd tried to kill Ray, not with his gun in self-defense, but with his own two hands for the satisfaction of choking the life out of the son of a bitch. The only thing that had stopped him was, not knowing what a manslaughter conviction or a wrongful death suit would do to the people who loved him, but rather, not wanting to give the bastard the satisfaction of proving that he was right about them being so much alike. That whole week of his life was just a dark place he didn't want to visit ever again.

"Elliot, it's ok. You don't have to answer."

But he didn't want to shut down now, didn't want to shut Kathy out. There had to be something he could tell her, something she could stand to hear. Her question had been about the handcuffs. He could talk about that.

"When I was undercover," he began, and paused, gathering his thoughts.

"What about it, El?"

"After I helped the girl escape . . ."

"Yeah?" she coaxed gently.

He closed his eyes as he began to speak, and suddenly he was there, watching Ray Schenkel and himself as if in a dream. "The guy I was after, he got the better of me, knocked me out. I woke up cuffed to the side mirror of the van I was driving. He shoved a gun in my face, right under my chin, cocked it, I knew I was dead, Kath!"

His breath was coming hard and fast, the visceral fear as real and immediate now as it had been in the moment. He struggled to calm himself, taking slow, deep breaths, but the harder he tried, the worse his anxiety became until he felt a familiar touch and heard a soothing voice.

"Elliot," Kathy tried to calm him, "you're safe now. It's ok. Look at me, El. Tell me how you got away."

He obeyed her, opened his eyes, and when he saw the love in her gaze, was able to escape from his nightmare. After a few deep breaths, he was able to speak calmly about the incident once again.

"Fin and Olivia had been tracking me," he said quietly. "When they knew I was in trouble, they called in the choppers. The guy heard them overhead, and left me alone for a minute to check them out. I just about broke my wrist doing it, but I pulled the mirror loose from the van and got to a gun Fin had stashed in it for me. We exchanged some shots, he tried to sneak around behind me, but I out maneuvered him, disarmed and subdued him."

He looked at her shyly and tried a smile, hoping to put her at ease so she wouldn't guess at the other dark, terrifying things he had found inside himself that night.

"I guess, for a moment when you cuffed me to the headboard like that, I panicked a little," he told her.

"Elliot, I'm sorry," Kathy apologized, kissing his cheek and placing a hand on his chest to feel his heart still pounding. "I didn't know."

"No reason you should," he said, looking away, knowing he could explain the fear but not the other emotions she was bound to see in his eyes.

Kathy hesitated a moment, knowing there was something she was missing again. This undercover assignment had really shaken her husband. The first time he'd mentioned it, he'd had a hard time just telling her what had happened. This time, she felt like he was using the events to cover up something else, but she couldn't figure out what and she didn't know whether to push him or not.

"Well, you're safe now," she finally said, mostly to fill the silence, and she moved so that she was straddling him once more. Gently, she began to massage his shoulders, arms, and chest, trying to help him relax. The tension she felt in his muscles and the way he kept his eyes closed spoke of more than fear. She was sure he was hiding something now.

"Mmmmmm . . . that feels good," he sighed and sank back into the pillow, eyes still closed, and a phony smile on his face.

That smile is what made up her mind. She knew he thought he was moving things along, distracting her before she could press him for more information, and she knew what she had to do about it. In the past, she had always let him go thinking he had tricked her somehow, but that strategy had nearly led them to disaster. She knew, tonight had proven, that honesty was the best policy, but she also understood that honesty didn't necessarily mean full disclosure.

She stopped caressing his biceps, rested her hands on his shoulders, and waited. A second or two later, he looked at her. She moved forward, sliding up his torso a little bit, and saw the apprehension flicker in his eyes.

Leaning over, getting her face close to his, she whispered, "I know you're holding out on me."

His eyes grew wide with surprise at being caught.

"But, Kath . . . "

"It's all right. You don't have to tell me everything."

"Kath, I . . . "

She shook her head. "You don't need to explain," she told him. "Just admit it. Admit that there are things . . . you're afraid to tell me, and stop treating me like I'm stupid."

"Kathy, please . . . "

"Hush, El. Listen to me. I'm not angry."

This time, he didn't try to interrupt when she paused. Instead, he thought about what she had said and how she had said it. Her tone hadn't been accusatory or upset, and she had told him it was all right. Surprised that she was willing to let him keep his dark thoughts to himself, he nodded for her to continue.

"I used to let you get away with . . . acting like you had no secrets," she said, "but not anymore. Don't pretend you've told me everything when you haven't. I've learned that there are things you can't talk about, because they affect you too deeply, because you're afraid of how they'll affect me, because they have to do with a case and they're confidential, whatever. But from now on, when there's something you can't tell me, own up to it."

"I never meant to treat you like you're stupid," he said. "I have more respect for you than that, it's just that, sometimes, it's easier not to talk or to pretend there's nothing to say than it is to figure out what to talk about."

"Then tell me that," she told him. "I just want you to be aware of when and why, and how often, you hold things back. You've got to talk to me if we're going to make it, Sweetheart. I know you see and do so much that you don't want to bring home, but El, it comes with you anyway in the way you feel and the way you treat the kids and me. We love you, and we can forgive you if you're sullen and silent once in a while, but when those random nights became weeks and months of silence, you became a stranger to us. You can't let that happen again."

"I never wanted it to happen in the first place."

"I know, Baby," she said compassionately. "But just because it's hard doesn't mean talking about things is a bad idea. If you can't share something, say so, but really consider it before you shrug it off and move on. I didn't marry you so you could take care of me, you know. I married you because I wanted to share a life with you, and life is good and bad. If you're lucky, you have someone to share both."

"Kath, stop." He hushed her with a finger to her lips. "I understand what you are saying. I won't try to play you any more, but I need you to believe me when I tell you this is something I can't talk about yet. What I did frightened me. I'm not talking about the assignment, I mean my behavior."

He chewed his bottom lip for a moment, searching for words to explain feelings that he couldn't even name. "I'm not sure what it means or how I feel about it yet. When I'm ready, I'll talk to my shrink about it, but it's too dark a place for me to pull you in. I don't want to let it touch you. Does that make any sense?"

She looked as if she might cry as she gazed into his eyes, and he wanted to tell her not to, but he knew that on some level, she understood his suffering. If she needed to cry for him, he would let her, and he would do what he could to comfort her. It might do them both some good.

Finally, she kissed him and then lay down on his chest again. When she whispered to him, the words came faintly but clearly, and they lightened his burden tremendously.

"I know that was hard for you," she told him. "I want you to know, no matter what it is, I will always love you. Maybe someday, when you're ready, you can tell me about it, but I already know what kind of man you are. That's why I fell in love, and it's why I'm here now."

Her hands moved to touch him in places only she had been allowed to explore, and though she didn't say it, he knew the game and the conversation were over for the evening.