Author's note: I just can't seem to get it together with the regular updates, can I? Oh, well. Thanks once again for your patience. And another very big thank-you to everyone who has reviewed this story. It's been wonderful. Keep em coming.

As the defendant was testifying, the courtroom dissolved into disorder, and Maureen wilted against Olivia's shoulder in defeat. A large woman in a garish floral print dress and an ill thought out perm, stood up and started shouting about a blender. The audience broke out into frenzied applause. In indignant response, the judge started banging her gavel, quietly at first, and then with increasing volume and frequency. It was giving Olivia a headache. It took five minutes for a particularly loud bang of the gavel to jar Olivia awake.

Maureen was still sleeping, her head resting on the older woman's shoulder. Olivia wondered why the gavel was still banging if she were awake; it took her a few seconds to realize that someone was knocking on the door, and be profoundly annoyed by that fact.

She opened her eyes and tilted her head up a few inches, careful not to disturb her couch mate. The only light in the room came from the yellow-green flickering of the television set, where an infomercial was in progress; a vaguely Star Trekish blender was being hyped to an audience which must have been specially brought in from a brain damage ward.

The knocking was keeping her from thinking straight. Olivia reached for the remote on the coffee table and muted the sound on the television, wished she could do the same to the very loud person at the door.

Open the door, Olivia!

Olivia moaned softly to herself, and gently pushed Maureen off her shoulder and onto the headrest of the couch. Maureen mumbled something in her sleep, and scrunched her face up. Her hands clenched themselves into fists, and her toes curled.

Olivia tentatively laid a hand on Maureen head, and smoothed her hair down. She shushed her until she saw her relax.

After giving her eyes a few seconds to adjust themselves to the dark, she padded over to her front door and glanced quickly through the peephole. She could make out a distorted, cartoonish version of her partner, red faced, eyes narrowed, working his jaw in time with his fist on the door.

Open the damn door!

She unlocked her dead bolts with a thud, but kept the chain on the door. She yanked the door open as far as the chain would allow and jerked her face to the crack. The sudden contrast in light made her blink. When she could see again, she was starring at her partner's face, inches away. He was breathing through his mouth; hot gusts of air were crashing onto her face. He stopped his fist inches from colliding with the door.

She raised her eyebrows at him and pressed her lips tightly together. A headache was knocking hard at her temples, waiting to be let in.

Keep your voice down. You'll wake her up.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, Elliot looked away, and tried to let at least some of his anger out in a steady stream of air.

Open this door, now. He was no longer shouting. He paused. Please. I need to see her.

Olivia bit her bottom lip, and then looked straight into her partner's face.

No. She doesn't want to see you, Elliot.

He looked straight back at her, face blank and set. Then I'd get back if I were you.

Before she'd had time to think about it properly, Olivia jumped back, and her door exploded inwards. She saw splinters and paint chips on her floor. She looked at her chain, formerly keeping her door securely closed, now dangling uselessly from the doorframe. The bang of the door landing bounced around in her ears, and she could feel the vibrations traveling up her legs to her knees. Elliot's foot hung in the air for a few seconds before he slowly lowered it and stepped inside the apartment. He stood just inside the threshold.

Olivia's reverie was broken by the sound of a high-pitched shriek. Maureen had ejected herself from the couch, and was standing beside it, screaming and crying. Tears and mucus were running over her face, and off the edge of her mouth in a gooey waterfall.

Oh, sweetheart..... Elliot took two steps towards his daughter, she backed up, and tripped over the coffee table. She fell backwards, her clothes landed in a heap on the floor, and she landed with them. In a while, she would have fresh bruises. She really didn't need any more.

Olivia moved between her partner and his daughter. She crossed her arms over her stomach, looked down, and uncrossed them. She angled her chin upwards.

Leave. Now.

Get out of my way. Elliot took another step forward. He didn't noticed that he'd made his hands into fists, but Maureen was staring at them, and Olivia stole a glance every few seconds, when she wasn't looking at his face.

The unplugged phone caught her eye, and she wished for a second that it were still connected.

Elliot took one more step forward; Olivia found herself almost taking a step back. Instead, she stumbled, but righted herself, planting her feet wider apart and squaring her shoulders.

One more step forward and Elliot's boots were almost touching his partner's bare toes. He could smell tomato sauce on her breath, and see the wet spots on her t-shirt where Maureen's wet hair had been. She could see the stubble on his face, and the bags under his eyes.

He saw her swallow, three times, hard.

I'm taking my daughter home. Get out of my way.

She noticed that the vein in his forehead was pumping with unusual speed, it was the only thing moving on his body, like a hyperactive caterpillar crawling on a statue. She sighed, and slowly reached a hand for his arm, then withdrew it before touching him. I am sorry. But the best thing for you to do right now is to leave.

Elliot jerked his head to the side and grinned. Olivia had seen him use that grin before, many times, but never on her.

He spat the words out at her. You had no right! How could you do that? You lied to me. You lied to me and you betrayed me. She's my daughter, she's in the worst trouble of her life, and you lied to me like it was nothing. You don't answer my calls. Do you have any idea what that was like for me? No, of course not. You couldn't understand. But I'm telling you one last time, get out of my way, I'm taking my daughter home.

Olivia drew her head back slightly, and her eyes widened despite her. There was a long moment of stillness, broken by Maureen's gentle sniffing.

She started to say I can't let you do that, but she was cut off before she could finish. A brief flash of something came towards her, and she tried to move with it, but his fist still connected hard. The force of it knocked her on the floor and left her sprawled on her side.

Looking up at him she opened her mouth. It hurt. She couldn't think of anything to say, she thought her jaw might be broken. With effort, she closed her mouth again, and looked up at her partner. His face was still red, and he was breathing as hard as she was. He looked at her for a short eternity. With a last look at his daughter, who was now completely silent, Elliot turned around and walked out of the apartment.

Light from the doorway landed in a pale fluorescent rectangle on the floor, wavy over Olivia's ankles and feet. She probed her jaw with two fingers and decided that it wasn't broken.

Maureen was looking at her, their eyes were level now. The younger woman licked her lips, then slowly pulled herself upright. She walked over to Olivia and offered her a hand. Come on, she said, I'll get you some ice.

Olivia took her hand, but didn't pull too hard as she stood up. You'd better wash your face, she said, and brushed at the tear tracks on Maureen's face with her thumb.

They walked together into the kitchen. Olivia flicked on the light.