Author's comments: Ah, the letter. It's canon now.

Better Days

Chapter Three

Part One

Elliot cringed with each shock to Olivia's pale skin, as if he himself was at the end of that wand. He wished he was. He deserved all the agony she was experiencing, and she was just an innocent bystander. He had not listened to her, had not even bothered to find out about her life, so absorbed he had been in his own self-created turmoil.

Wheatley shocked her again, and Elliot winced. She wouldn't be here if he hadn't been so bent on getting revenge. If he'd just stayed in Italy, Kathy would still be alive and none of this would have happened. If he'd just stayed here to begin with, maybe he would have seen the truth a long time ago—that he belonged with the woman hanging in front of him right now, and none of their lives would be endangered.

When Wheatley poured water on her, Elliot knew at that moment that he would have to act immediately or her time would soon be up. When the wand jolted her this time, she passed out, and he shrieked, thinking she was dead.

"Olivia," he whispered. "Please…"

When she stopped swinging, he could see her ribcage moving, and he could finally breathe again. But she wouldn't be breathing much longer if he didn't find a way out of here.

"I need a cigarette," Wheatley said, smiling. "Tony, watch them. We'll finish this up when I get back."

But as soon as Wheatley left, Tony was on his phone, and Elliot used his distraction to survey the warehouse. The closest sharp implement was the knife Wheatley had used to cut Olivia's clothing from her body, now sitting on the table next to him.

Elliot clenched his eyes shut and tried to think of a way to get Tony out of the warehouse for a few minutes. But good fortune intervened, and Tony stepped out to make a call. Elliot took advantage of every second, scooting his chair closer and closer to the table until he was backed up against it. Leaning his chair forward, he was just able to pinch the tip of the blade with his fingers, and he positioned it until he could start cutting through the tape.

God was shining good fortune on Elliot today, because Wheatley took his time getting back, and soon Elliot was free. He grabbed the cattle prod and went to the door Tony had left from, and as soon as the man re-entered he surprised the guy with a shock to the head, knocking him out cold.

He turned his attention to Olivia, who was starting to moan as she awakened. "Elliot," she said when her eyes fluttered open. "What are you—"

"Shhhh…." He slid his hand up her thigh until he reached her feet and began to saw away at the zip-tie. Just before he gave it one final slice, he said, "Hang onto me."

He felt her arms grip his legs, and he grabbed her naked legs too, just before he cut through the last thing holding her to the hook. But as soon as she was free, she slipped down, her grip on him loose because she was too weak to hold on, and he barely kept her from slamming her head into the ground.

But she didn't hit the concrete hard, and he lowered the rest of her gently to the ground and dropped down next to her. Stroking her cheek with one finger, he said solemnly, "I'm sorry, Liv, but we have to go, right now."

She was on the verge of tears, but she nodded, and he helped her to stand on wobbly legs. He took off his suit jacket and draped it around her so she wouldn't be completely naked anymore, but it barely covered her. She took one step and stumbled forward, her knees buckling.

He tried to silently help her up again, but she whimpered. "I can't, El. Too weak."

He looked around, scanning the warehouse for something that might help them, but the only tools to freedom were the cattle prod and his own strength. Resolving that he couldn't let her down again, he bent at the waste and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, still gripping the cattle prod in one unrelenting hand.

Leaving through the same side door Tony had, he scanned for an exit vehicle once they were outside. There were several cars parked in a row, and he went to the one at the front, a Ford F-350. The passenger side door was unlocked, and the keys had been left in the ignition, because nobody in this group of thugs was worried about having a car stolen.

He deposited Olivia gently on the front seat, and she flopped over on her side, too weak to even sit up. As soon as he shut the passenger door, Wheatley burst out of the warehouse and rushed toward him, gun drawn. Elliot ducked behind the front bumper just in time to avoid the first bullet shot from Wheatley's gun.

"Come get me, Wheatley," Elliot yelled. "You afraid of me?"

He could hear footsteps, and when they got to the front bumper, they slowed. Elliot risked it and jumped out, barely avoiding a bullet just in time to get a good shock to Wheatley's face with the cattle prod. The jolt dropped the guy, and Elliot ran to the driver's side before Wheatley's men could make it out the warehouse door.

He pulled away just as Wheatley's men got outside and began shooting. Swerving to avoid bullets hitting the tires, Elliot glanced in the rearview mirror just in time to see men behind him getting in their cars. He didn't see Wheatley, but the shock wouldn't have been enough to kill him.

Elliot wished he had taken Wheatley's gun and shot his nemesis right then and there. But those few seconds might have made the difference in whether his goons had been able to catch up to him and Olivia. Right now, he turned his attention to driving as fast as he could, even having no idea where they even were.

They were in a suburb somewhere, and by the time it had taken to get here originally, Elliot guessed it was someplace in upstate New York. He drove and drove, keeping an eye on the mirror, but he never did see a car following. He knew that Wheatley's pursuit of him and Olivia would be relentless from now on, now that they were live witnesses to and victims of serious crimes, but Elliot was focused solely on getting someplace safe right now.

He rested his hand on Olivia's head. She hadn't moved since she got in the truck, and for a moment he wondered if she was…

"Liv?" he whispered.

"Hmmm," she moaned, pulling her knees up so she could curl as much of her body under his jacket as would fit.

He stroked her hair while driving. "It's going to be okay."

They came up on a more densely packed area of whatever town they were in, and Elliot spotted a police station. "Thank God."

Hastily, he went in to inform the local police of their predicament, and then ran back outside to the truck, praying that Wheatley's men weren't stupid enough to ambush the local precinct. But nobody showed up, except for the brave uniformed men from inside.

He opened the passenger side door with trepidation. How was he going to handle the shivering mess inside? He'd dealt with plenty of victims in his career, but none of them had been Olivia, and none of them had been brutalized right in front of his very eyes.

She lay still on the bench seat, eyes closed. He stepped into the cab, stooped over her, and jostled her shoulder gently. "Liv? Can you sit up? We're at the police station. Help is on the way."

She grimaced but held her hand out for him to help her up. He muscled her up, gripping her outstretched hand with one hand and her shoulder with the other. Then he sat down next to her, waiting for the paramedics, and she flopped against him.

With her hair covering her face, he could no longer see her expression, but she wrapped her arms weakly around him, and he held her, serving as her pillar. He kissed her head and stroked her hair, closing his eyes to the cruel world around them.

It took a moment for him to realize that her body was shuddering because she was sobbing.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, holding her head. He didn't know what else to say to her.

The police swarmed, trying to get answers, and an ambulance came. Elliot refused to leave her side, helping her feeble body out of the truck with a thin blanket from the paramedics covering her. Once she was on a stretcher, he could see her eyes, dull and gray, shimmering with tears. She avoided eye contact as they loaded her into the ambulance. Still, he refused to leave her side, climbing in next to her and holding her hand in silence.

What could he say? That he was sorry she had ever met him? Because he was. He was sorry for everything—that he had come back, that he had even left in the first place. He was sorry that Wheatley was right about everything, especially the part where he'd said she was the real love of his life. Why had he ever involved her in this, when he'd already lost so much? Why had he not seen the risk to her when he pulled her into the seedy underground of Wheatley's operation?

Wheatley had been right about something else—that Elliot had not taken the time to get to know her. Olivia had been right too—he'd taken advantage of her caring nature, had leaned on her and given nothing in return. The pit that rose up in his stomach made him nauseous and ashamed.

If Wheatley's mission had been to murder them, he had failed. But by the look on Olivia's face, Elliot could tell Wheatley had succeeded in something much deeper—emotionally devastating the one person he loved the most in the entire world.

Part Two

If Elliot ignored the nurse worrying over Olivia, he could pretend they were alone in the room together, and it would be the first time they'd been able to pause and talk to one another. Not that he had any idea what to say.

The helpless sinking in his stomach reminded him of a time not so long ago when he sat in this position with his wife. It had been heart-breaking the last time. This time was different, but he couldn't put his finger on the reason. He loved both of them. But emotions confused him—how could he love his wife and yet have such a deep well of passion for the woman before him now? How could he have let Kathy manipulate him into writing that letter? He knew why—it was a last ditch attempt to save a broken marriage. But he didn't want to admit that he had been so weak—weak enough to bury his true feelings to both of them, and worse, to himself.

At any rate, Olivia was now suffering for her and him both, because of his sins of omission.

She looked tired. While her eyes were closed, he studied her for dark marks where Wheatley had applied the wand. Her face was clear, but in a line leading down her neck and trailing down her chest was a path of black burn spots where the prod had singed her delicate skin. "Liv?"

"Yeah?" she gasped, without opening her eyes.

"Nothing. I just wanted to…make sure you were okay? Are you in pain? Need anything?"

She flopped her arm toward him and he grasped her hand, not wanting to touch her otherwise. It was never a good idea to touch a victim unless she asked for it.

Victim. He rolled the word around in his head. She couldn't be a victim—she was Captain Olivia Benson. And yet she had been a victim before, although he'd refused to see or acknowledge that fact.

She opened her eyes now, ensnaring him with her vacant stare. "No, I'm fine." She swallowed hard. "Elliot?"

"Huh?"

"It wasn't your fault."

He bowed his head and brought her hand to his forehead. "You know it's hard for me to buy that."

"I know."

She looked so small in her oversized hospital gown. But it was better than a suit jacket, or nothing at all.

"Elliot?"

"Yeah?" he whispered.

Her eyes were barely open, and he was surprised she was still awake with the sedative they'd given her.

"Why did you give me the letter?"

He sat in silence for a few moments, not wanting to make her wait but unable to even comprehend the question. "You want me to answer that now? Here?"

She nodded.

He sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was to escalate her stress by talking about something that had caused her pain. But she'd nearly died tonight. What if Wheatley came after them again, and before he could give her an answer? She deserved it, after what she'd been through.

"It's not like I really wanted to." It was a weak start, he knew.

"Then…why?"

He sighed again. Being emotionally honest and vulnerable was not a strength of his. He wished he could be more like her—sharing his heart with ease. "I was afraid. I had just lost Kathy. I felt myself growing drawn into you again." He ran his hand over his face, unable to look her in the eye right now. "I didn't…didn't want you to get too close, because I was afraid they'd come after you next. So I gave you the letter to keep you away."

He still couldn't look at her, for fear of the disapproval in her expression. She wouldn't want him to make those decisions for her—she would find his protection of her condescending.

"So, did you mean what you said—what Kathy said—in the letter?"

How could he answer her honestly, right here and now? It was not the setting where he had imagined having the conversation. He would have picked someplace more fitting—like a stroll next to the river, or a night together over drinks and dinner.

"Elliot, look at me."

He could not disobey her in her time of greatest need, so he turned his gaze upon her face, her eyelids drooping and her mouth twitching at the corners. Even in her pain and confusion, she was beautiful in all her authenticity, too beautiful for him. He didn't deserve her.

"No, I didn't mean it." I meant that I love you, that I have always loved you, since we first started working together. That I wanted more than anything to be with you, but I was too scared to admit it. How did he say all that to her? He couldn't. Instead, he said, "I meant that I…I care for you deeply, and I'd like to try to start something meaningful with you, but…"

"But you were dedicated to your wife."

"Yeah."

She paused for a moment, presumably to take in what he'd just told her. Then she said softly, "And when you say something meaningful, you mean…more than just a friendship?"

He nodded and squeezed her hand. "Yes, definitely. Yes."

She let out a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I'm…uh…"

And then she went silent, and her breathing deepened, and he knew she could no longer stay awake and alert enough to have this conversation. He stroked her hand with his thumb and whispered, "Just rest, Liv. We'll talk later."

With that, she relaxed, the lines in her face softening. He wondered what she was dreaming about, and if it had anything to do with him. He silently swore that from now on, she was his first priority. No matter what, he had to protect her, and more than that, he had to show her how special she was to him. He could never come close to losing her again.