On my knees, I'll ask
Last chance for one last dance
'Cause with you, I'd withstand
All of hell to hold your hand
She stood with her back to the wreckage, arms crossed over her chest. She couldn't bear to look at it just yet. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to again. She'd tried working herself up to giving a statement but her brain wasn't functioning properly and the words never came. She saw the tense expression on their faces and knew how frustrated they were to have so few answers but it was the least of her concerns. She felt a presence and looked over her shoulder slightly. He smiled tightly.
"I talked to them. Bastards. All they can think about is themselves." He put his hands on the back of her shoulders and squeezed gently. She didn't need his anger. He bottled it up for the time being and nudged her gently.
"I want to go home." The words were scratchy and hoarse and thick with emotion.
"I know, honey." He was treating her like a child but she hadn't opposed thus far. He didn't know much about the psychological process behind what she'd witnessed, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out she wasn't in her usual state of mind. Something told him she couldn't care less how he spoke to her. Her mind was working slowly, barely sustaining itself. He stepped in front of her and looked into her eyes. It broke his heart. The Olivia Benson he knew was no longer there.
"Kay." She nodded, blinking several times to focus when he stepped into her line of vision.
"Come on, Liv." He took her by the elbow and she tensed under his grasp. He mentally berated himself. She'd been checked out before he'd gotten there and he wasn't sure what her condition was. It was obvious by the gauze on her hands that she'd been near the fire. She inhaled sharply before stopping.
"Shit. I'm so sorry, Liv. I forgot. You okay?" He bent down to look at her and saw a glint in her eyes. He felt like shit.
She merely nodded, biting her lip. It stung, in more ways than one. She looked ahead and shrunk back, moving into Elliot's side.
He wrapped his arms around her, unsure of what to do. Something had scared her. He followed her gaze and it donned on him what the problem was. He whispered that he would return and jogged ahead to the line of officers that surrounded the scene. He spoke in hushed tones to Detective Jimmy Duncan. The twenty-year veteran nodded and made a jerking motion with his thumb. The sea of uniformed and plain-clothed officers parted.
She looked down at her shoes. One had been scorched straight through. Suddenly the pain bothered her. She wriggled her toes and winced. She didn't want to go back, though, and it wasn't as if she was dy. She shook her head of the thought and put a hand to her mouth for thinking such a thing. She was broken from her reverie by his gentle hands on her wrist, pulling her forward.
The officers gave them their space as they walked to his car. No one spoke a word but the look in the officers' eyes said enough. Some nodded while others simply looked elsewhere. A few had moisture cascading down their faces. They didn't bother wiping it away.
He led her to the door and unlocked her side before opening it and ushering her in. As he walked around, he took a deep breath. He was going blindly into unfamiliar territory. He got in and reached over to pull her seat belt across her lap and pushed the latch into place.
She stared out the window as he pulled away from the curb. They rode in silence. Each stop light gave her time to collect her thoughts. Each turn led her closer to her safe haven where she could curl up and block out the world. She was conscious of the fact that since it had happened, she hadn't thought about it. Not one image, sound, or memory made its way into her frazzled brain. She wouldn't let them, for now. She knew the time would come soon. She was exhausted and didn't know how much longer she could stop their intrusion. She could feel his gaze on her. If she had the energy, she'd tell him how much she wanted to jump out the car. She locked the door with her thumb, ignoring the searing jolt of pain the spread through her singed digits.
It worried him. He rationalized it to mean that she simply didn't want to fall out. He told himself that because anything else would send him to the nearest psych ward. He couldn't do that to her, though. He stayed on course to his apartment. It had been mere months since he'd moved into the smaller space. It wasn't much but to him, it was home. He kept driving, taking the long way. In New York, there was always a long way to be found. He knew he was prolonging the inevitable, but they were both putting it off. He eyed the road again before looking down at the clock on the radio. He made a mental note to call Cragen. Better he found out from him than someone else.
The car seemed to be the only one on the street. It felt as if they were the only ones on the planet, isolated from every one and every thing that could give them some sense of reality. Nothing made sense. The sharp shrill of a cell phone pierced the silence.
"Stabler. Yeah. Fine. Uh huh. Not now, later. Yeah, okay." He hung up and looked over. Yeah, he'd ask her for a statement. When she was damn good and ready. He pulled up to the curb and heaved a sigh of relief. He'd never been able to find a place in the past. He killed the engine and undid his belt before pressing the button on hers. She made no attempt to untangle it from where her hands rested on her lap.
She pushed the button to disengage the lock on her side and fumbled with the handle before seeing Elliot come to her rescue. She shifted in her seat to give him room to open the door before pushing the lap belt out of the way. She couldn't remember how it became undone.
"Thought it might be a little hard with your hands." He saw her staring down at the object that looked so foreign to her. He watched her nod and get out of the car before shutting it and leading her to the steps. Many thoughts plagued his mind, none of which he knew how to deal with. He wondered if she'd talk and what he'd say if she did. He agonized over the decision whether to argue with Cragen to let her come in or to insist that she take a week off. She'd want to work but she was in no condition to do so. He'd have to keep an eye on her. They all would. It could be for the better, he thought. Huang would be there and could give him the guidance he needed to be there for her. To say and do the right things because he felt like a fish out of water and he was gasping for breath. He could only imagine how she felt. Seeing her, it looked like every ounce of being was slipping away.
She followed him up the stairs and through the steel door leading to his floor. In the back of her mind she thought he'd been taking her home but it didn't surprise her when he didn't. She felt the familiar bulge beneath the hem of her shirt. Her heart raced. She was scared of what she was capable of doing. He'd want to watch her. He didn't trust her anymore than she trusted herself. Rightly so. As she stood at his door, it happened.
He cursed the neighbors. They were always setting off the smoke detectors. The stench always lingered for hours. He shook his head and a brief look in her direction was all it took. His eyes grew wide and he saw her shaking her head feverishly. Her eyes bore into his, pleading for him to understand what her tormented mind was going through. She grabbed onto his arm tightly and he could see the small splotches of red start to seep into her gauze. She was terrified.
The smell brought her back. More powerful than any force on the face of the planet. Her breaths came in small bursts, unable to carry the oxygen to the much needed parts of her body. It wasn't enough so her brain had to choose what was more important. Her face grew ashen and her knees grew weak. She lost all ability to control what happened.
He saw her eyes roll back into her head and the grasp on his arm grew slack. He caught her as she fell to the ground, slowing the impact with the hard floor. She'd have some nasty bruises, but her head was spared. Thankfully, he'd had the key in the door already. He shifted the hand that was under her head and slid it under her shoulders as he moved his left to lie under her knees. He lifted her gently and opened the door. He jiggled the keys and removed them before stepping over the threshold and kicking the door shut behind him.
He debated where to take her and thought better of putting her on the couch. She was dead weight in his arms. He gently deposited her on the bed and stared down at her. God, he was scared for her. With every ounce of his being he was scared. When he'd gotten the call he'd just changed. He didn't even remember how he got to the scene. At first, he'd wondered why she was involved in the first place. It had been near the precinct but she'd gone for the day or so he thought. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He bent down and removed her shoes and frowned when he saw the hole. After all that had gone on, she hadn't noticed being burned there. He removed her sock gently, all the while watching for signs she was waking. The top of her foot was blistered and red and would be painful by morning. He removed her other sock and debated what else to take off. He turned the fan on and adjusted the air conditioning unit in the window before pushing the blanket to the floor. He thanked his inability to ever make the bed. His hand brushed across her hip as he pulled the top sheet over her. He carefully undid the holster and reached over to remove her badge before putting them both in the drawer on the nightstand. In the morning, he would take the bullets out of her piece. She didn't need it at her desk.
He gently lifted her arms and pulled the sheet up to her midsection. The gauze on her hands was streaked with crimson. A few small patches had dried already. He went to the bathroom and returned with an armload of supplies.
He went to work, methodically removing the gauze. He unwrapped it slowly and made sure he didn't further damage the charred skin underneath. He shook out several cotton balls and poured the blue liquid over them before wiping the blood from her hands. It was a long process but he couldn't bear to add more pain to her ordeal. If he could spare her one ounce of hurt, he would. He applied a healthy amount of burn cream to both hands before wrapping them back up. He shoved the used supplied into the trash can beside the bed and pulled up the sheet at the foot of the bed and repeated the process of treating the burn on her foot. He adjusted the covers once again, his work finally complete. It was only beginning, though.
The next day, month, year would be a challenge for her. He knew that much. He stared down at her. Her breathing was slow and even and he was relieved to know she was sleeping. It bothered him that it took her passing out for her tired body to rest but at least she was getting it. He sat on the bed and smoothed the wrinkles in the sheets. He shifted his gaze to her face. She had a little more color, underneath the blackness brought on by the smoke. He brushed aside a few locks that covered her closed lids.
"What did you go through, Liv?" His voice cracked and he angrily wiped away the tears that ran down his face. He wasn't upset at losing it. He was upset at the injustice of it all. Furious at what she would be forced to live through. With shaking hands, he pushed himself off the bed. He got down on his knees and prayed for the first time in a long time. To a God that he believed in. To a God that would give him the answers because he didn't know where to turn.
He asked for her to be able to find peace. He asked for strength so that she could lean on him without them both crashing to the ground. His heart hurt for what she went through and he didn't want to let her down. God help him, he loved her and damnit if life wasn't short enough. Screw the rules and screw the politics of it all. He'd been her partner for many years. It was time to become something more. He'd put it all on the line for her because in the end of it all, he didn't want to be alone. Selfish as it was. He didn't want her to be alone, either. They were good together. They both knew it. He came to the startling realization that if it came down to it, he'd choose her over the job. Any day.
He whispered the final words and stood. He opened the closet door and removed a blanket and pillow before settling down on the floor. He placed his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. The tears had stopped. The anger had abated. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Like a father watching over his wounded child, his senses were heightened. He couldn't save her from the night's events, but he could be there to tend to her battered body and mind. She was the lucky one. The sole witness. Some luck.