Author's comments: Here we go.

Better Days

Chapter Eight

Part One

Elliot sat on the couch, head in his hands, waiting for the evening sun to surrender to the dark. He wouldn't be surprised if she never trusted him again. He had left her abandoned and distraught in every time of need, and now he was refusing to do the one thing that would assure that she and her tiny family survived. But it was a big ask.

He had it in him. If he thought of Wheatley, he remembered Kathy lingering in the hospital, and then he remembered Olivia hanging upside down being burned until she nearly screamed. And he wanted to kill the guy. It would be so easy to pull the trigger. He could easily make it look like Wheatley had pulled a gun on him first, or that they had been in a fight beforehand. People would look the other way if Elliot killed a mob boss like Wheatley.

He vowed to do it, for her. The man deserved to die, and she deserved to live. He remembered her anger a few moments ago, when she'd shoved him, when she'd stormed out of the room and swore to do the job herself. Even in her anger, he admired her courage and the determination in her eyes. He would never tell her he was going to take care of Wheatley, but he needed to try and make up with her.

Sighing, he went to her bedroom door. It was closed. He rapped his knuckles on it and waited, and after a moment, the door swung open.

She stood just inside the doorway, eyeing him. To his surprise, she said, "I'm sorry, El."

He waited for the "but", but it never came. Sweeping a strand of her hair behind her ear with one finger, he said, "You don't have to apologize."

Her gaze never left him. "Yeah, I do. You're right, I can't ask you for that, and to insult you for not agreeing—"

"Shhh…" He placed a finger on her lips. "It's over, and I understand why you're asking. And I'm sorry, too. I wish I could make a promise to you."

She shook her head. "I'd rather you not." She stroked his temple, and his eyes nearly closed from the tenderness of her touch. "El, I just want to be close to you tonight."

His arms were around her waist now, and he pulled her into him until his hard-on pressed into her belly. "Mmmm," he said into her ear. "That's all I want too."

He brought his mouth to hers in a kiss, and she pressed her lips hard against him, sending shock waves throughout his body. As she kissed him, he grew harder, if that was even possible, and he wondered if it was too soon.

But she made that decision for him, reaching down to grab his erection through his clothes, and then unzipping his pants, all while still kissing him. He moaned his approval, and tentatively brushed his fingers over the side of her breast. She paused her kiss long enough to let out a breathy sigh, and then she shoved her hand down his pants and began to stroke his now-exposed cock.

"Oh my God, Liv. So good." He looked into her eyes for signs of distress, but all he saw was the glint of a hungry huntress. Still, he couldn't help but look out for her. "Are you sure this is okay?"

In a breathy whisper, she said, "I want this more than anything right now."

To show him how ready she was, she lifted her shirt and shoved his hand down her bra, forcing him to grasp her breast firmly. He picked up where she left off and began to massage her breast, running his fingers over her nipple. She threw her head back and moaned, and she looked so beautiful that he had to kiss her again.

He stopped long enough to drag her shirt over her head, and she lay down on the bed and slipped off her pants. He did the same and laid on top of her, watching her face the entire time. Her eyes lit up as he put himself inside her, and he was surprised at how wet she was for him already.

He slid in easily and rocked inside her, and she wrapped her legs tightly around him like she couldn't stand the thought of letting him out. Her hips rose up to meet him, sucking him in with every thrust. Her nails dug into his back and she let out a moan, and it excited him so much that he thought he might not last much longer.

But he held on as long as he could, holding his breath to keep from coming right then and there. She moaned louder, her eyes mere slits, her head tilted back at an erotic angle. "God, El, I want your come inside me."

"You ready for it?" he panted.

"Yeah," she gasped, and he was glad, because he couldn't hold it in anymore.

Her body started to rock and convulse, pushing up against him just as he released his juices inside her with a loud groan. He kept pumping her until he was sure she received every drop of him, and then he kept pumping even as he started to go limp, until her legs finally stopped twitching.

He stopped, but he didn't pull out, wanting to stay inside her forever, even as he softened. Still on top of her, he stroked her hair and kissed her chin, and she looked at him through dreamy eyes.

"That was even more amazing than I had hoped."

He kissed her temple, and then her lips, and then finally dropped down next to her and pulled her close. Her naked body felt like it was built just for him, like a lock to his key. She wore a soft smile on her lips, but her gaze was miles away.

He stroked her cheek, and she closed every space remaining between them. "What's that look?" he asked.

"Nothing." But he knew something was going on with her. He also knew that she was stubborn and wouldn't tell him until she was ready, so he didn't push. "I just want to stay like this forever," she said.

She curled her head against his chest, and he stroked her hair until her breath started to lengthen. If he could remove the weight of the world from her by holding her, he would. But he knew that this moment wouldn't last forever, and all he could do was cherish this embrace as long as he could.

Part Two

Last night had been heaven for Olivia. So much so that she had forgotten about Wheatley until they were done, and then her plan came pounding back into her mind, and she didn't sleep at all. She kissed Elliot hard before he left, and then held him tight until he looked confused. Then she had to let him go.

He went off to find Wheatley, and she sent out the text.

"Come and get me. I'll be waiting outside my apartment."

She waited an interminable couple of minutes, and then Wheatley replied. "No way. I'll send you the location. Show up alone, no phone or weapons."

It would mean ditching her detail, but she'd done that before, with Lewis. She left the location in a note to Elliot, and then pulled on her coat and trudged to her awaiting fate. It was easy to ditch the unmarked officer's vehicle. She just turned a corner quickly and went inside a store, waiting for them to pass before she changed directions. And then she took a taxi to the address he gave her and paid her driver. She stood outside alone, next to the river, the wind whipping her hair into her eyes. There was a chill in the air, making her tremble, but she knew that wasn't the only thing sending convulsing shivers throughout her body.

A van came and picked her up. It could have been the same one that took her last time—she didn't really care. A man inside the van slipped a bag over her head once more, but she didn't resist this time. He shoved her into a corner of the van, and she cowered there until the vehicle came to an abrupt stop.

She was led, head still covered, into a location that she could only guess was a warehouse by the amount of echo inside. Finally, the bag was yanked off her head, and Wheatley stood before her.

He smirked. "Decided to save your son's life, huh?"

She just stared at him, not in the mood for a conversation. He stepped closer to her until he was an inch away, and she tried hard not to flinch. He touched her hair, and she didn't move. "Ah, Olivia. Elliot's favorite person. You know, I think he loves you more than he loves his own children."

She didn't answer, just tried to avoid direct eye contact. He grabbed a chunk of her hair, and she let out a little grunt but quickly recovered. It hurt a little, but he was still going easy on her, she knew. "Oh, I have plans for you. The more you suffer, the more Elliot suffers. And I know just the thing to grip him right in his heart." He made a sweeping motion with his hand. "Come this way."

He took her to a podium by one wall of the warehouse, and when she saw what he had built, she began to question her plans. What if this didn't work, after all? What if he killed her before her used her to lure Elliot in, or what if Elliot wasn't able to get a weapon in, like she'd hoped?

So many things could go wrong. But she'd felt desperate, wanting so bad for this entire ordeal to end, and she was ready to sacrifice to make that happen. She had made a risky bet—that Wheatley would leave her alive to draw Elliot to him. Maybe she would pay that bet with her life, but either way, at least it would all be over.

"Get up on the platform," Wheatley told her.

She complied, climbing onto it and standing face to face with his creation. He said, "Stand with your back against it," and she did, sucking in a huge gasp of air, the coldness of the warehouse chilling her face.

She closed her eyes and then opened them again, not wanting to witness this but wanting to see it coming at the same time. "Let me have your arm," he said.

She didn't understand why he was ordering her around—it wasn't like she was offering any resistance. She held up her arm, and he took it and bound it with a rope to the outstretched wooden arm.

As he worked, he talked to her in an even tone. "Do you know how people actually died from crucifixion?"

She didn't answer, just sighed heavily as he began to bind her other arm. He continued on gleefully as he busied himself. "It wasn't from the blood loss of driving a nail through hands and feet. You should be grateful, by the way. I'm not going to do that."

He tied both her legs to the pole and then stepped back to admire his handiwork. Then he rattled on as he checked all the knots to make sure they were tight enough. "No, the way it works is, the weight of your body pulls down, squashing your organs and making you suffocate."

Satisfied with his work now, he stepped down from the podium and stared at her tied to the cross. "Usually," he continued, "It takes anywhere from a few hours to a day and a half or so."

Her trembling intensified so bad that she became almost too weak to stand. Wheatley shrugged. "But if Elliot isn't here by the time you're suffocating, we'll just stand you up for a little bit, give him more time."

He turned, walking to the side of the podium. "But he'll come."

With those words, he kicked the block of wood out from under her, and the weight of her body yanked her down, dragging the breath from her. Oh God, hurry Elliot, she thought, as the pain of her arms being pulled from their sockets nearly caused her to pass out.