Elliot's arms tightened around Olivia for the briefest second. The sound of the tires screeching hadn't died out but it was beginning to fade into the sounds of the wind howling.

"Elliot...are you..."

"No. You're okay?" Olivia nodded and sat up cautiously. Their window was intact and so were they. Elliot could see her eyes reflecting in the darkness. He could even feel the heat from her body, but was confused about what had just happened. In one quick moment, she was throwing on her shoes and heading toward the door. They didn't have any guns, badges, nothing. Elliot, brain still foggy, followed suit.

Others came out of their cabins, looking like zombies milling around on the pavement. Many were in threadbare bathrobes, some just wore what they were probably wearing that day. The hotel's owner came bolting out of the home that centered the little cabins. She was running out of her pink slippers and dropping pink curlers at every step.

"What happened here? Who's shooting at my storage room?" she puffed. Her flashlight made the glass twinkle around an abandoned dwelling.

"Did you call police?" Elliot asked, poking at the glass with the bottom of a crutch.

"No. But I will," the bedraggled lady said. She tried to light a cigarette but it buckled in half.

"Call the state barracks. Tell them the two NYPD cops said to call so they can get tire prints before the rain washes them away," Olivia demanded. The owner shrugged and disappeared into the gathering mist.

"You can go back to bed. These people won't come back," Elliot told the crowd. Sirens were getting closer, a comforting sound for him. It was steamy-hot and the rain just added to the misery. New York had plenty of nights like this, where the streets smelled like wet copper, the scent of blood.

The troopers arrived and took their witness statements and the tire imprints. Elliot and Olivia watched over them and were satisfied with the job.

"We're pretty sure who did this. It's just a question of getting to the truck. These cruisers won't make it out to Undun in the mud. We'll patrol til morning, then borrow a game warden SUV," one of the troopers said as they were leaving.

"We appreciate it. NYPD owes you guys big time," said Olivia, shaking hands.

"Nothing doing. You guys have been through enough in the past few years."

"Nice guys," Elliot said as the cars pulled away. A plane passed low overhead. They could hear it but couldn't see it."I guess we should get some sleep at least."

They were both soaked through. Olivia ended up in a pair of boxer shorts and a UVA t-shirt. Elliot just wore the boxer shorts. They crawled back into bed cautiously, almost nervously. Then, very slowly, he began to relax and reached for her.

"I think it's funny," she said, resting her head on his chin.

"What?"

"Here we are, now...I've worked with you for years...and I don't feel like I know you at all sometimes."

"Oh, come on. You know enough," he mumbled into her hair.

It was true. Elliot didn't know her favorite song, her favorite book. He didn't know the name of her first boyfriend or her best friend. What Olivia didn't know about him could fill a thimble. But this flesh and blood beneath his fingers was as new to him as her face had been all those years ago. All those nights he'd lay next to Kathy, stone cold, thinking about Olivia and wondering if they'd survive to the end of the week. Those nights he'd wake up in a sweat from dreaming she'd been shot and on her last fluttering breath she'd speak his name. Maybe Olivia didn't need him, but he needed her. His heart was ready to burst at some moments when she was around. It was only his military discipline that kept him from showing it.

I will be here as long as you need me to. Maybe I'm not who you want. Would you just let me in sometimes?

They were locked in an eternal tug of war. Their feelings often clashed. Sometimes they said things to one another you wouldn't say to your worst enemy. They played games with each other. They could even be borderline violent with each other. But deep in his heart, Elliot knew she needed him. And it would take more time. Anything this violent and passionate would end in tragedy. His heart ached at the thought.

Elliot looked down to see that Olivia had closed her eyes. One tear leaked from the corner of his eye and splashed on her cheek. He was grateful she was so content in his arms. The tear glistened like a diamond on her skin. He kissed it away and closed his own eyes, dreading the sun.

XXXXXXXXXX

She was gone when he did wake up. Trying to find some breakfast, a note attached to his lamp said. The sleep had worked its restorative powers and Elliot actually felt whole and human.

He was washing his face when Olivia came back in, breathing heavily.

"Muffins. From Mrs. Falbo in the hotel office," she puffed, throwing down the bag. She heaved herself onto the bed. Elliot wiped his face and sat down beside her, his attention on the muffins.

"Thanks. Why are you so out of breath?"

"I re-wrapped the bandages this morning and they're a little tight. Give me a minute so I can fix them, okay?"

She walked into the bathroom and began reciting a stream of soft curses under her breath. Elliot got up and hesistated before rapping on the door.

"Need help?"

Olivia didn't answer. She was still cussing and ripping tape. He was about to walk away when the door opened a crack. "El, I'm having trouble getting this tape on. I think I need your help," she whispered. He walked in to find her in a bra and and the now-dry sweatpants she had on the night before. The tape was still half-wrapped around her stomach.

"You look like a mummy," Elliot cracked. Olivia didn't smile. Instead, she handed him the tape and scowled.

Elliot tried to be gentle, but tape doesn't separate from skin easily. With every pull, she cried out, and when she was finally tape-free, he got a good look at her injured area. "That looks terrible," he said. "I wish we had some cold packs or something to bring the swelling down."

"Just wrap me up. I don't need a running commentary."

Elliot shrugged and began to wind the tape around her soft skin. The feel of it against his the night before came back in a wave of pleasure that made him dizzy. He took his time, not wanting to hurt her.

When he was done, she looked at his handiwork in the mirror. "It's perfect. I can breathe." His gaze rested on her breasts. Olivia caught his gaze and held it in her own. She had a look in her eyes he'd never seen before, a look that almost made him think it would be okay to kiss her and make love on the pink tiles that covered the bathroom floor.

Elliot hobbled out of the bathroom quickly. He was losing control. The door slammed behind him, but not before he could see Olivia's confused look. He drove his fist into the wall, knocking out a few chips of plaster. The action brought him back around to reality. The bathroom faucet came on full blast. Maybe she hadn't heard.

He sat on the side of the bed and buried his face in his hands. Elliot's knuckles shed little drips of red on the white bedspread.