Author's comments: This is not the end yet. But I'm trying to decide if I want to keep this one going or make it into a two-parter. Let me think about it.

Better Days

Chapter Ten

Part One

Elliot took one last glance at the unblinking eyes of the angelic woman below him before tilting her head back and lowering his mouth to hers. He blew once, hard, and then inhaled and did again. Then he rocked back on his knees and carefully placed his clasped hands between her breasts. He counted as he thrust against her unmoving chest, much like he had counted the space between breaths just a few minutes ago.

One, two, three, four…

When he got to thirty he lowered his lips to hers once more, wishing they weren't so cold, and did it all over again. About the fourth time trying the rescue breaths, he began to lose hope. She hadn't responded by now, and how long had it been since oxygen had reached her brain? But he was going to keep going until he was too tired to do it anymore, just as she had clung to life as long as she possibly could.

One, two, three…come on, Liv. Breathe, dammit. Six, seven, eight…

But it was too late, and tears started to drop onto her ashen face every time he lowered his mouth to hers. This time, he kissed her first, in between gasping sobs, and then stroked her hair. "I love you, Liv. Please…God, please."

He puffed into her as hard as he could, but he'd already done it so many times that he felt dizzy and weak now. He kissed her again and tried one last breath.

Something moved underneath him, and he startled at the feel of her hand twitching. He swiped a tear away and blew into her mouth again. She coughed into his face, just once, but it was movement.

"That's right, Liv. Breathe."

Her chest sucked in with one giant gasped, and then she coughed again, repeatedly this time. He stroked her hair and smiled just as she opened her eyes. "Hi," he said. "Hi there."

She panted now, making up for air lost over the last several minutes. She moaned, and it was the most welcome sound he had ever heard. "Liv?" he asked tentatively, realizing that she could have brain damage from lack of oxygen at this point.

She swallowed, still gulping down vast quantities of air. "El," she exhaled.

"That's right," he smiled. "I'm here."

She touched his arm, and he saw perception in her eyes that told him she was going to be okay after all. "You just keep breathing, okay?"

She nodded, as if there was an acceptable alternative. He squeezed her arm and said, "Stay here and rest. I've got to call for help."

He cast her one last concerned look, and then reluctantly left her side to deal with Wheatley. First, he dragged the guy's unconscious body to the only fixed structure in the warehouse—a large pole extending up to the ceiling, handcuffing Wheatley's arms around it. Then he called for backup and a bus and rushed back to her side.

He swept her toward him, pulling her close into his arms. She whimpered, her eyes narrowing, and he watched her face carefully. "You okay?"

She struggled to speak, licking her lips before muttering, "My shoulders hurt. I think they might be dislocated."

He gulped. "Hang in there, Liv. The medics are on the way."

Her moaning intensified. "It hurts so bad, El."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, wiping away a tear from her face. He was just glad she could actually cry now.

"Oh, God, El…"

He knew how to pop a shoulder back into a socket, but it was a brutally painful procedure. Watching her wince more intensely with every second, he decided to offer her the choice. "I can probably get them back in, but it's going to hurt, and I don't want to hurt you."

She scrunched her face up in pain. "I'm already hurting, El. Please…just do it."

He sighed, dreading every second of it as he prepared her by lying her down flat on her back. She groaned even louder.

"Okay, ready?" She nodded, her eyebrows lowering in anticipation. But she couldn't be tensed up if this was going to work. "Just relax, the best you can. Let your muscles relax."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. He gripped her forearm and straightened her arm at her side, and then began to pump it up and down as he pulled it out to the side. She cried out, and he stopped for a moment. "Keep going," she said, biting her lip.

With her arm straight out to the side, he started to rotate her arm as he raised it up toward her head. She screamed, but he kept going until he felt it pop. Now that it was in, she made groaned with each inhalation, but she wasn't screaming anymore.

"Better?"

"Yeah, now do the other one."

"Okay, but make sure not to move this one now."

He did the same thing to her other arm, and she screamed louder this time, and then whimpered until she was able to slow her breathing down.

Stroking her hair, he said, "I'm sorry, Liv."

"Thank you," she mouthed, tears wetting her cheeks. "Help me sit up?"

"You sure? Maybe you should conserve your energy until help comes."

"Nah," she gasped. "Easier to breathe when I'm sitting."

He helped her up, propping her against the pedestal. Then he glanced over at Wheatley, who had started to arouse. Part of him wanted to stay here and comfort her. But there was another part of him, the enraged part, that kept remembering what she had asked him to do multiple times. He looked at her, too weak to move, unable to even lift her arms from the torture she'd endured, and he knew that he wouldn't be content until Wheatley suffered as much as she had.

Part Two

She could barely keep her eyes open, and her arms were useless. She was afraid to move them, afraid they would pop out of their sockets again, leading to more excruciating maneuvering to get the back into place. But even though Elliot's procedures to pop them back into place had sent jolts of pain through her so agonizing that she'd seen stars, she was glad he'd done it, because otherwise she would have suffered a slow, tormented ache until she could reach the hospital.

Elliot caressed her cheek once, and then sprung to his feet and left her, heading toward Wheatley now. He pulled out his gun, and she remembered what she'd asked him to do just a few short hours ago. Somehow, it didn't seem to matter anymore. And if he killed Wheatley, he would wind up in prison, and he wouldn't be there for her.

Elliot pulled out his gun, and she called out weakly, "Elliot, no…"

But he didn't seem to hear her, and she waited for him to pull the trigger. Just before he got to Wheatley, though, he shoved his gun in the holster and stood looking at the man, handcuffed to a pole and lying on the ground. Without saying a word, he climbed on top of Wheatley so that he was sitting on his abdomen.

Olivia couldn't see Wheatley's face with Elliot blocking her view, but she heard him say, "So what's it going to be, Elliot? You going to kill me or fuck me?"

Elliot leaned forward, pushing against Wheatley's shoulders. "Oh, killing you would be too painless. No, you're going to suffer, the way you made her suffer."

Olivia watched with curiosity as Elliot looped his leg under Wheatley's, and then swept his leg out to the side at an unnatural angle, snapping it at the knee. Wheatley yelled out in pain, and then panted, writhing against his handcuffs.

Elliot wrapped his foot under Wheatley's other leg. "I hope this hurts like a motherfucker," he said, just before he leaned to the other side, twisting his bent leg to the side forcefully until Olivia heard a loud popping noise, and Wheatley screamed this time.

"Elliot—" Olivia tried to shout but her voice wouldn't come out above a rasp.

Now Elliot stood and took the handcuffs off Wheatley, and Olivia could hear sirens wailing in the distance. With Wheatley's legs immobilized, Elliot strutted over until he was by Wheatley's head, facing Olivia. And with one quick, flowing motion, he dropped down to one knee and bent Wheatley's arm backward over it until it snapped, eliciting a high-pitched wail out of him.

Elliot went to Wheatley's other side, but before he could drop down and repeat the move on Wheatley's good arm, Wheatley panted, "Okay, c'mon, Elliot. You can stop now. You made your point."

Elliot looked down at him and didn't move. "Did I? Okay, let's see. You said she was up there for hours? And how long have you suffered now? Less than two minutes?"

Without waiting for a reply, he dropped down to his knee again and repeated the move, yanking down so hard that Wheatley's elbow broke completely, causing it to flop around at sickening angles.

The sirens were loud now, and Olivia could tell they were just outside the warehouse. With Wheatley still moaning loudly, Elliot stood and pointed the gun at him, aiming straight for his head. "I want to let you suffer a little longer, but I told myself I'd do this." He looked at Olivia. "For you, Liv."

She summoned every last bit of strength she could muster and shouted, "No, Elliot!"

She could tell that he heard her, because he hesitated. But he cocked the hammer of his revolver and said, "You were right, Liv. The world isn't safe…you aren't safe, unless he's gone."

"Listen to me, Elliot," she said as loud as her weakened voice would allow. "I changed my mind. Don't do it. Please..."

He tightened his lip and straightened his arm, and she waited for the gun to go off. But uniformed officers ran in, and now he let out a gasp of air, and she knew he wasn't going to go through with it. He waited for the other officers to approach Wheatley and said, "His arms and legs are broken, but he's still dangerous. Don't take your eyes off him."

And then he was directing the paramedics to her, and he was back at her side, trying to crowd in among them so he could hold her hand. One of the medics looked up at the cross and said, "What in the world?"

Elliot's gaze never left her face as he said to the medics, "Yeah, she was tied to it. So don't move her arms, because they were dislocated and I had to push them back into their sockets."

"Oh, man," the same medic said, as he strapped an oxygen mask to her face. "Okay, we got you."

Things were a blur after that. All she remembered was riding in the ambulance with Elliot next to her, holding her hand, and she had a moment of déjà vu. But she kept thinking about what Elliot had done. She wanted to thank him, and also apologize, so she summoned up enough energy to remove her oxygen mask and say, "El, Wheatley—"

"Shhh…" He held a finger to his lips. Then he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Not in here, okay? We'll talk later, I promise."

He patted her hand, and they exchanged knowing glances. If she was thinking straight, she would know not to say anything that might be incriminating in front of witnesses. But she couldn't concentrate with images of Elliot breaking every one of Wheatley's limbs on replay in her mind. She closed her eyes, grateful for how much easier her breathing came to her now. She kept her arms close to her side, fearful that if she didn't, they might pop of out of their sockets again.

She drifted in and out of consciousness for much of her initial time in the hospital, sleeping through tests and doctors' visits. But every time she opened her eyes, Elliot was there, lines in his face with concern.

Finally, they were alone in a room, and she just had a nasal cannula feeding her oxygen. She looked up at Elliot, who was staring into space while cradling her hand in his. "El," she rasped.

He snapped to attention and squeezed her hand. "Yeah, I'm here."

She rubbed her thumb on the crook of his hand, and he carefully brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, and then gently placed it back in its spot. "Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Doctors say you won't need surgery on your shoulders, so that's good."

"Yeah."

"And they're amazed at how well you're doing, despite what you've been through."

Looking into his eyes, she could see admiration reflecting back, but she didn't feel like she deserved it. All she did was live, and the whole thing was her fault anyway.

"I'm sorry, El."

"Shh…no, don't be sorry—"

"No, I need to say this, El. I put myself in danger, and I put you in danger, and I didn't even warn you. I was just…"

He stroked her hair while she tried to think of the right words. But he came up with the words for her. "You were scared, and angry, and I get it."

She swallowed a lump in her throat. "I just wanted it to be over. I wanted Noah to be safe, and me, and you." He nodded, and she went on. "But I put us both in danger, and that wasn't right."

He kissed her hand again. "I probably would have done the same thing."

Their eyes were still locked, and the depth of his adoration made her want to cry. "Anyway, I just want to thank you for finding me, before…"

He squeezed her hand again, and she knew she didn't have to finish the sentence. She had so much more to say, but she felt her energy fading, and so she tried to get out as much as possible before she was too worn out. "Before I went there, I just wanted Wheatley to die, and I didn't care if anyone else got hurt in the process, including me." He was listening intently now. She swallowed hard. "But when I was up there—"

She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the memory of her body sagging, lungs trapped and immobilized. "I realized that it was more important to me that you and I were together, even if it meant our lives were at stake." She opened her eyes and locked onto his gaze again, to make sure he heard her, but he couldn't seem to take his attention off her anyway. "So I'm glad you didn't shoot him, because I couldn't bear the thought of you being in prison and away from me…"

He had been sitting in a chair next to the bed, and he abruptly climbed up on the bed and leaned forward to scoop her into a hug. She couldn't control her tears any longer, and she cried softly into his shoulder. He pulled away from her, but his fingers locked into her hair and he said, "I may still have to answer for what I did to him."

She nodded, but she couldn't think about that right now, because the thought exhausted her. So she just enjoyed the feel of his fingers against her scalp and let herself drift off. But before she did, she opened her eyes one last time and said, "El?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He kissed her forehead. "I love you too, Liv."