This story is such a tease. I'm sorry.
"I'm gonna to choke you," Elliot tells her to the side of her face. "And you're gonna fight me until I take your last breath." The words leave his throat with ease. "I'll be sitting on your stomach with both hands around your throat."
The tears on Olivia's face have long since dried up and the stale scent of the trailer has become more of a focus than the plan Elliot is currently spouting at her. He has been explaining what he intends to do for a good five minutes from the moment they get to the car, to the moment they reach the dumping point.
She has barely acknowledged any part of it.
When her silence extends into the space he leaves for her to respond she can tell his irritation is reaching breaking point.
"Are you even listening?" he rasps.
She doesn't flinch, she doesn't move, her eyes remain transfixed on a stain beneath his feet as if she is memorized by it.
"Do you even care…" he whispers to the side of her face. "About anything?"
She raises her dark eyes to his then, giving him a look of utter disbelief that he is challenging her on how much she is seeming to care. But she doesn't respond because his question doesn't warrant an answer.
"Look, you can hate me all you want Olivia, but this isn't a game," he tells her firmly. "This is your life - and my life. So you better start-"
She steps forward then, the idea she had been contemplating from the moment he had roughed her up suddenly kicking into gear. The emotion has long since been spilled and she is unbothered now - vacant and purpose driven as if her head has been cleared. She feels him flinch when her body comes into contact with his, her fingers skimming over the sides of his bare torso as she moves in closer, her hands sliding around to his lower back. She is unattached to any reaction her sudden actions are about to cause.
"What are you-" he whispers as his mouth knocks her temple but she is too focused on her hand that is slipping into the back pocket of his jeans. She feels nothing in the first pocket but the ridge of his backside, so she lets her other hand slide into the adjacent pocket, her breasts pushing incidentally against the wall of his chest. She feels Elliot exhale into her locks as her fingers curl over the pocketknife she is seeking. She knows she doesn't need to be this close to retrieve it, but it's her best chance at shocking him into submission long enough to seize it.
He isn't making any movements to stop her and when she pulls back, he just watches as she turns away dragging up her dress at her thigh and slotting the pocket knife into the side of her underwear. She drops the material then, letting it cascade back down her thigh before she turns back around to face him.
"What are you doing?" he whispers in response.
She clears her throat. "Just in case your plan goes to hell.. I want my own protection."
He eyes her cautiously as if debating his next choice of words, a little taken aback by the bold move she had just pulled.
"I don't think that's a good idea," he tells her carefully.
"Why?" she gives him a humorless smile, "Because it isn't yours?"
She watches his eyes narrow at her then and she can feel his anger escalating in response to her jab.
"Because I've been doing this for three years Olivia," he says through gritted teeth, not breaking their eye contact for a second. "Tony catches you with my knife on you and you're as good as dead," he tells her with all the seriousness he can muster.
"I think I can handle Tony," she tells him with a scoff. "Believe me Elliot, I've handled a lot worse." Her eyes flicker then, images of Lewis threatening to rock her in that moment but she stands firm under the heat of Elliot's gaze.
He is trying to read her, deep blue questioning hues penetrating hers before he continues cautiously.
"Listen," he starts and she knows that tone - she's geared up for that tone, he's going to start to placate her now like some weakened, vulnerable victim. "I get it, I know you want some power here Liv, I understand that. But in this situation we are not partners, this is not your case. I know the ropes here, I am prepared for this – so trust me when I say you don't want that knife on you."
"I think I'll take my chances," she tells him pointedly.
"Damn it Olivia," he rasps and he is stepping forward now. She waits for his hands to grab her at that point but they just curl over at his sides, his eyes boring into hers as one hand knocks her hip where the knife resides, an indication that he can take it at any second. "You've got 10 seconds to give me that knife or I swear to God I'll-"
"You'll what?" she whispers throatily, just waiting for him to do it. His eyes continue to flit between hers, gauging her reaction, unsure if she is bluffing or what the hell kind of game she is playing. She can see his chest rising and falling with each weighted breath before he finally says it.
"You know I'll do it," he warns her, his threat falling against her face but she can see the panic in his eyes, the way his adams apple bobs uncomfortably at the thought of having to take this from her. She wants to scoff - the amount of boundaries he has already crossed tonight this would barely be a blip on the radar. 'Just do it', she wants to yell but her eyes simply narrow instead, as if she expects nothing less from him.
He isn't making a move. Maybe the guilt of his actions is finally catching up to him. Maybe the idea of his hands beneath her dress without Tony calling the shots is a step too far. Or maybe he is just dragging this out - making her sweat, like a caged mouse at the mercy of an enraged lion.
"You wanna strip me of my safety Elliot, fine but that's on you," her dark eyes narrow against his. She feels his fingers flex against her side then knocking her hip, making her chest pound with anxiety at each passing second. Elliot's lips part and he steps a little closer - she braces herself for his hands, her reflexes at high alert ready to grab him the moment he tries something. But she can see it in his eyes, he isn't going there, instead he is blindsiding her, moving his hand upward grasping her cheek, her breath hitching as he gently lines up her face with his.
He gains her full eye contact before he says it.
"Listen to me." His breath exhales against her mouth, her heartbeat quickening as her fingers dig into the bench beneath her. "I'm.. your safety," he whispers against her mouth and she isn't expecting this - any part of it. It's not a warning, it's a promise and her chest is pouding as her mouth parts absently, swallowing against the side of his palm.
"You got that Liv?" His eyes flick back and forth between hers and there is no seduction in his voice just the God's honest truth it seems and it's weakening every part of her. His chest is scraping the tips of her breasts and she is struggling to breathe. She feels his other hand grasp waist, just above the knife holding her in place and she doesn't know what this is. She doesn't know if this is real or imagined or if he is just fucking with her.
"You don't need it," his whispers, his thumb swiping over so lightly across her waist then. "Trust me."
He could easily take it from her at this point, that's all she's focused on. She doesn't understand where this new newfound patience has come from and she is struggling to reconcile it with the man who moments ago held her firmly against her will.
She swallows, her heartbeat thumping wildly as she slips a hand downward, knocking his on the decent and she grasps the lip of her dress, gathering it one handed and tugging it slowly upward. He is still staring at her intently, watching her uncertain eyes as she fishes the rectangular knife from her side of her underwear.
She removes it completely before the material skims back her thigh. He still has her by the waist, she is holding the knife in her clammy palm, she doesn't hand it to him, he doesn't take it from her. They both just continue to stare at each other intently until his eyes suddenly and unexpectedly drop down to her mouth.
She closes her eyes immediately.
"Don't." The word escapes her before she can stop herself. She moves the knife into his hand then, the one still holding her hip and when he won't take it she presses it up against the wall of his bare chest until his hand has no choice but to close over hers.
"Take it," she rasps, her voice cracking from the emotion, her body reeling over their proximity and this new unsettling shift in her ex partner. He is holding her hand underneath his, keeping her close when he says it.
"I'm sorry Liv," he whispers between the small space between them, using her hand to keep her as close as he can as he breathes into the jagged space between them. "For everything," he tells her genuinely. But his words are barely audible, his voice cracking under the strain of his admission and she sees the emotion pooling in his irises clear as day. "I wish things could have been different-"
"Stop," she moves into him then. "Just stop," she pushes him physically backwards until he is completely off her. He finally takes the knife from under her palm and she's moving out and away from him entirely.
Her hands are trembling, her eyes are starting to bud once more with a fresh batch of tears. She can't do this. She can't play this game with him anymore. She isn't strong enough for this ping-pong tournament of emotions. She thought she wanted to hear his words, his reasonings, his apologies, but truth be told she knows nothing he could say tonight would make it any easier for her to leave. She makes it a few steps away from him before she turns around and she can't even lift her eyes up to meet his at this point.
"I just want this to be over okay." Her voice is small, trapped and tired. "All of it," she whispers, the sentiment of that extending well past the events of this evening. "So just tell me what to do and I'll do it." She finally lifts her eyes and captures a whole wealth of emotion from him that she isn't prepared to see.
A few beats pass before he is moving slowly towards her and her eyes flicker as he approaches. Her fingers curl into the centre of her palms, her stomach spirals and she is shaking her head from side to side in silent refusal, her eyes pleading with him not to do this.
A timeless, unspoken moment invades their space as he stops a step before her and her heart pummels in response.
Then it's moments before his gaze finally and reluctantly falls away from her face.
"Alright Liv," he whispers his an unspoken surrender.
"This is what we do."
TBC
