Sentinel
Part 2
~oOo~
Olivia's POV
I'm in pain. And I want Elliot.
That's the thought that runs through Olivia's head as she attempts to relax on the sofa. Finding comfort in the fact that he's just in the next room, washing the day off.
She huffs a little at herself for acting like they haven't been practically attached at the hip for the past 72+ hours, feeling slightly ridiculous for needing him next to her when she knows it's the same for him. The unwillingness to stray too far has been mutual. Dare she say they've both been a little clingy in a way that isn't like either of them. They've been doing a lot of hovering and silently checking that the other is nearby, needing the reassurance.
Needing each other is something they admit these days. No longer just doomsday staring from afar and praying a sudden mind-meld will keep them from having to speak such things aloud.
The television plays some sitcom on low volume, but she doesn't have the energy to give it her attention. The only light comes from a single lamp and the twinkling lights Kathleen had hung up in the courtyard. It's a clear, cool spring night, and even from her seated position, she can see the glow of the moon reflected through the glass windows. If moving around didn't hurt so much, she'd probably be outside enjoying it.
As it is, Olivia doesn't want to wake the sleeping boy at her side who's been her shadow ever since she left the hospital a few days prior. Leaning gingerly over, she presses her lips to the crown of her precious son's head and rubs a hand down his back. He sighs and sniffles, shifting slightly so his body careens further into her space but he doesn't stir. It's the first time his slumber hasn't been restless and fitful in days, so, even though it's getting late she doesn't have the heart to move him yet. If it means getting to hold him just a bit longer and see peace settle deep in his bones. They both need this time together.
Her boy who's growing up way too fast for her liking. In more ways than one.
Her boy who recently feared that he'd lost his mother forever. She recalls the terror in his eyes and flinches at her own mental picture. The way he'd clung so tightly to her like he was afraid if he let go, she'd disappear.
Olivia sucks in a sharp, stuttering breath, fighting the urge to press her hand to her chest, her heart aching at the thought. Something she's never wanted to consider. Tears prick behind her eyes, and she inhales deeply again, knowing that replaying what almost happened won't lead anywhere good. Wincing when the breath feels like someone poured hot coals all the way down, but it is what it is when she won't take anything strong. Her eyes slip shut, and she tries to push through the pain, taking shallow breaths until it passes.
The bullet wound site is still raw and sensitive to touch and movement alike. Olivia has been warned against strenuous activity that could pull the stitches or aggravate her injuries further. The blood loss and damage to one of her lungs led to her body going into shock in the ambulance. It became a closer call than anyone would have liked.
The surgery to repair everything went well but it'd been touch and go for longer than expected. Her body needing more rest than they originally thought.
Olivia had finally woken up to matching worried blue eyes and powerful, healing hugs. Meaningful stares and holding a hand that will always feel like home. Elliot and his rough voice calling her sweetheart – a pet name that has grown on her in recent months – even though she still maintains she doesn't like being called that and she loves to tell him so.
Noah and his tears, crying for her and obliterating her heart. She'd wanted to bottle every one that fell and take away all his hurt, all his fears. Shelter him inside her chest where nothing could harm him again.
One of the worst things in the world is seeing her son in pain and not being able to fix it. Noah is too young to figure out how cruel the world can be. How unfair. She's never wanted ignorance for him, but she hopes to keep his innocence intact for a while longer. Her brave boy and his need to look out for others. He still sees the world with bright, hopeful eyes and with a determination to make it better. She wants to nurture that hope, not assassinate it.
But Olivia hates that she can't promise something like this won't happen again. She can only pray it doesn't. That getting shot was just a fluke. A one-time scare. It's never happened before in over two decades on the job so the chances of it happening twice are unlikely. She'll take more precautions, do what she must to come home to the life – to the family she's built. To a dream she never thought she'd get to have. Not in this universe anyway.
Olivia hears the water shut off in the bathroom, and it's only moments later when Elliot emerges, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt, skin still red and damp from the shower, feet bare. He always did like the water scalding. They both do really. The steam wafts from the open doorway.
His gaze seeks her out immediately, and she knows he's quietly assessing if she's okay. Looking at her not like she's fragile but like she's precious. His expression silently inquires if she needs anything, and she shakes her head. Instead, she motions gently toward the spot on the other side of Noah's sleeping form. She knows he won't sit on her injured side for fear of hurting her, but she wants him close.
She can't help it. She's hurt, and she wants him. Elliot. Not anyone else. Just him. She wants his presence and his strength. His voice and his hands to surround her. To hold her up in the way only he can do. Take care of her in the way she won't let anyone else. Be her only safe harbor in the midst of an ocean that's determined to drag her under.
"C'mere," Olivia says softly, but he's already moving toward her before the word can fully leave her mouth. He always seems to know what she wants without her having to say.
Elliot lowers himself onto the cushions carefully, making sure the jostling doesn't wake Noah or upset her injury. His arm finds its way to the back of the couch, hand resting behind her head. She doesn't hesitate to drop the side of her face against the back of his hand. She loves the feeling of the familiar callouses along his knuckles. The scrape of skin. The way she knows how he got most of them. Was present for when those scars were still cuts. When the blood was still fresh, and the hurt was too.
He rotates his hand, so his palm is against her cheek, the pads of his fingers are caressing her delicate skin. "How's the pain?" Elliot asks, brows puckering. Eyes searching for the truth he's sure she'll give him now. They don't keep things from each other, not anymore.
Olivia settles her face further into his hand, knowing his warmth has always been intoxicating. For as long as she's known him, he's always run a little hot. Her own personal space heater. When she's cold, it's a nice reprieve. And when she's hot too—they make each other burn just a little more.
"Manageable," she says, shifting so her lips graze his palm. "I'm okay, El."
Anguish flickers in his eyes. "You almost weren't," he whispers, low voice cracking. That nervous twitch he's picked up since Kathy passed has yet to leave, Olivia feels the way it makes his hand quake against her face even now.
"But I am," she repeats firmly. Her gaze locks and holds on his own, wishing with everything that she could crush him to her the way she desperately wants to do. Her shoulder won't allow for bear hugs at the moment.
"I wouldn't have been okay either if something had—"
A tear falls from her eye onto his skin. "El, don't go there, okay? It won't do any good. Let's not talk about that." She hates that this scared him as bad as it did.
He licks his lips, his face shuddering. "Olivia." She can't tell if he's pleading with her or admonishing her.
She brings her hand from Noah's back to Elliot's cheek, brushing fingertips to the puffiness that lingers under his eyes, takes in the redness that never left. Notices the liquid that now pools at the corners of his eyelids. "I know," she says. "I know, El."
Elliot doesn't break eye contact until she does. Her gaze drops back down to the boy who sleeps between them. Noah is a heavy sleeper. Their talking won't wake him. She knows they won't bother Eli either with his bedroom door firmly shut. He probably fell asleep with his earbuds in again too, no matter how often he's advised not to do that.
She goes back to running her fingers through Noah's curls. The familiar motion is calming.
"You got a hell of a kid there, Liv," Elliot murmurs after a moment of watching them. "He gave me some solid advice. Told me not to let you fight alone. Reminded me that we're stronger together. Not just as partners but as family. Wise words."
Olivia smiles softly, warmth flooding her. "Mm, sounds like he knows what he's talking about."
"I'd say he gets it honest," Elliot says pointedly, and heat rises in her cheeks at the compliment. She rolls her eyes and bites her lip.
Elliot looks away, rubbing at the back of his head. "I—I don't know if I would've held it together if not for him," he admits.
He glances over again, offering her a watery, lopsided upturn of his lips. "Must be a Benson trait."
Her eyes wander over his face. "What?" she asks.
"Being the strongest person in the room."
His statement causes her spine to straighten in surprise, and she sits up further against the cushions. The sudden movement pulls at her stitches and makes her gasp softly in pain.
Elliot's eyes widen in alarm, and suddenly, he's leaning toward her, hand outstretched, unsure where it's safe to touch. "Liv, are you okay?"
She shakes her head and waves him off. "I'm fine, El, I'm good." Olivia tries to smile when she sees his eyebrows are still knitted and his gaze remains clouded.
His breathing is slightly ragged and his expression is so stricken that it threatens to splinter her apart. "God, Liv. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Hey," she cuts him off kindly. "I just moved too quick. Promise. Now, quit looking at me like that," she chides half-heartedly, her hand moving from her son to poke at Elliot's shoulder, trying to get him to unclench before he chips a tooth.
He watches her for another moment before relenting when she arches a brow at him in challenge, daring him to ask for the millionth time if she's okay. No matter how long it takes she'll drill it into him that not everything is his fault. Sometimes, he doesn't need to fix anything, he just needs to be present with her.
A few long moments pass in silence, but it's far from uncomfortable. It seems they've always been good in each other's pauses.
"So, uh, Noah asked me the other night if I planned on staying," Elliot says, attempting to loosen up a bit after she just scared the hell out of him, again. He makes himself relax back into the sofa, letting his arm rest once more on the back of it.
"And what did you tell him?"
His gaze drifts to her son and goes so soft. "That I'm here as long as he'll have me." Elliot looks back up at her and his expression doesn't falter. "As long as you both will." He clears his throat, suddenly unsure of himself. "You gotta know, Liv, I'm crazy about your kid. Love him like my own. I'll look out for him."
Olivia doesn't stop the tears that fall, not even trying to hide how his words have affected her. Her gaze goes once more to her son who at some point during their conversation has turned slightly away from her. If his head drops to the side any further, it'll be resting against Elliot's shoulder like it belongs there.
"El, you have to know that he's crazy about you too. He feels safe with you," Liv says after a moment of composing herself. "My son finally knows what's it like to have Elliot Stabler watching his back. He knows what I've always known, that as long as you're there, nothing can touch him."
She can see Elliot's throat swallow hard at her words, and she knows they struck a chord in him.
Noah sighs in his sleep and shifts again, and Olivia watches in awe as he subconsciously leans into the bulk of Elliot's frame. The tears begin anew when Elliot doesn't even bat an eye as he moves closer to accommodate the added weight against his side. His large hand dropping over Noah's shoulder and staying there.
"He is safe with me, Liv. You both are," Elliot assures.
And she knows he means more than just physically. The idea of giving someone not just her heart but her son's too is terrifying, but it's not just anyone. It's Elliot. A man who's already had her heart for longer than she cares to admit. Maybe the rest of this is just formality.
Her hand finds his where it lays against Noah's side, and she interlaces their fingers. "I think my son was right when he said we're stronger together. So, if being the strongest person in the room is a Benson trait then I'd say it's a Stabler one too."
"You make me strong, El." Just in case he isn't getting it. "More than you know."
Elliot's giving her that look, the one that turns her insides to mush and makes her heart beat faster. "Trust me, Liv. I know. You've always made me strong."
He expertly leans over Noah's curly head until his nose is brushing hers and his lips are teasing her own. His hand is on the back of her head, coaxing her further into his space, and he's giving her that dumb but beautiful dimpled grin that she adores.
"We're not kissing with my son sitting in between us, El," Olivia mockingly scolds, even though she can't stop herself from ghosting her lips along the corner of his mouth.
Elliot exaggerates a pout, glancing down to where Noah is still fast asleep, now almost fully squished against his chest. "Suppose you're right, don't wanna traumatize the kid," he murmurs agreeably, but he doesn't pull away or drop his hand and she doesn't either.
One little kiss wouldn't hurt anything, she thinks.
Olivia closes the short distance left between their mouths and kisses him, disregarding her own advice. It's quick and his lips are soft because he's a closet Chapstick fiend. Elliot makes a noise, furrowing his brows, and instinctively leans further into her. She needs to stop this before it can go any further.
He blinks owlishly, a frown puckering when she just as suddenly pulls back.
"Want me to carry your son to bed before we get in trouble?" he asks, brushing a wild strand of hair off her forehead.
"Please," Olivia says, and he leans forward again this time to press his lips to her head.
She watches with a full heart as Elliot coaxes a sleeping Noah to his chest and then effortlessly gets to his feet with the boy secure in his arms. Years of practice make what he just did look too easy. It's a sight that she'll never forget. Noah with his head resting on Elliot's shoulder, face tucked into his neck, body limp and trusting.
Noah stirs at the sudden change in position but doesn't fully wake. "El?" he whispers, groggy and confused, curls adorably falling into his eyes.
Elliot rubs his back soothingly, mouth pulling down when he realizes they weren't as quiet as they should have been. "Right here, bud," he assures.
"Mom okay?" Noah mumbles into Elliot's skin, nose scrunching and eyes just barely squinting open against the glare of the side table lamp.
Elliot and Olivia lock eyes when he answers her kid. "Yeah, No, she's okay."
"Promise?" her son says, lifting his head slightly, and his voice slurring with sleep but still very much insistent. His small hands hold onto Elliot's shirt and his expression is a Benson staple.
"I promise," Elliot swears with every bit of sincerity. "Now, come on, let's get to bed."
Just as Elliot's walking out of the living area, Olivia hears Noah whisper, "Love you too, El."
Olivia's eyes widen in astonishment, breath stolen this time by her too perceptive son and his timely eavesdropping. Truly a detective's kid. She shakes her head ruefully, laughing softly to herself and biting her lip, resigning herself to more tears. Infinitely glad that this time they're happy tears.
Her son had no doubt rendered Elliot speechless with that unexpected truth. He must get that honest too.