a/n: small update. lil fluff and angst chappy.

disc. i dont own these characters, but these characters own each other's hearts.

Chapter Twenty Nine - Allergic

She wasn't sure where she was. Her eyes were too tired to open and take in her surroundings. All she knew was that wherever she was, there were bright fluorescent lights above her. The second thing she realized was that every inch of her body hurt like hell. Seriously, who hit her with a truck? The third thing she noticed was that there was a hand holding her own. From the feel of the soft warm skin with the calloused fingertips, she recognized that it was Elliot's hand.

"Where the hell am I?" she tried to ask, but immediately realized that her throat felt as if it had been rubbed dry with sandpaper.

"Memorial Sloan Kettering." Elliot responded calmly, flipping the page of his magazine with his spare hand.

"Did I get run over by a semi?" she grumbled, lifting her arm to rest it over her closed eyelids. As soon as she did, she felt the familiar tug of an IV taped to her arm. "I feel like I got run over by a semi."

"No, but you officially scared me half to death." He said, not sounding nearly as annoyed as his words would've come across as.

"Why am I here?" She knew there was a lecture coming, she could feel it. Whether it was from Elliot or Doctor Keller, or even both of them. It was a rite of passage in the emergency room.

"Remember that rash?"

"Mhm,"

"It wasn't just a rash." Elliot said. "It was an allergy that got worse the more you were exposed to it… Liv, you should've told me it was spreading."

She groaned. "Can we please wait to have this argument until I stop feeling like my head was hit with a baseball bat?"

He wanted to be annoyed, he really did. But he didn't have the energy left to do so. Instead, he was just happy to see her awake and talking - and even coming back into her snark. He sighed, allowing a small chuckle to come with an exhale. "Yeah, we can wait. But I'm not sure Keller will be so kind. He read me the riot act for not bringing you in when the rash first started, I'm sure he'll have a field day with you."

She groaned again, her arm slumping down away from her face. She tried to open her eyes more, but the swelling was still somewhat severe. Through what little vision she had, she saw the door to her room being opened and recognized her doctor.

"Speak of the devil," Elliot whispered.

"Olivia," Keller exhaled deeply. "Olivia, Olivia, Olivia."

"Why do I feel like I'm in the principal's office and about to get detention for a week?" She responded, closing her eyes again.

"You could have died," the man in the white coat deadpanned.

"I'm already dying. What's life without a little excitement every once in a while?" Olivia replied sarcastically.

"Is she always this sardonic in bad situations?" He asked Elliot, who tried his best not to laugh. "Excitement is going to Six Flags, not going into anaphylactic shock because you neglected to receive care for a life threatening condition." Keller pulled out the rolling stool in the room, sitting on it from across her bed.

"You told me rashes were common with chemo. I was doing my part as a patient by trying not to complain."

"Then by all means, start complaining," he laughed. "Anyway. Obviously our treatment plan has been derailed by this unfortunate twist of events. Capecitabine is no longer an option for you, which means we're gonna switch things up."

"Different pills?" Elliot asked.

"No," Keller answered. "No more pills. No more home-treatment either. I'm sorry, Liv. You'll begin receiving intravenous chemotherapy treatments in our out-patient clinic. Three times a week. And I'm also sorry to say that it's gonna take longer too. We're gonna take a different approach and the new drugs you'll be on will require a longer treatment time."

"What?" she asked in disbelief. "Why can't we just switch to a different oral chemo at home?"

"Because it's not safe for you anymore. Patients who experience this reaction from oral chemo are more likely to be allergic to other oral chemo drugs. Especially since we don't know what exactly it was that caused the reaction - it could've been the preservatives in the pills for all we know. This way, we'll be able to keep a better eye on you and possibly even use medication that works better than what you were on."

She wanted to cry, she really did. Frustration, fear, and overall anger were heavy on her chest. Instead of crying, she squeezed tighter onto Elliot's hand which she realized was still holding hers.

"I'm gonna keep you here for a couple more hours to monitor you. We've got you on some fluids and antihistamines to help you recover. I'm gonna give you a couple days for your body to rebound before we go ahead and place a PICC line and start your chemo up again." With that, he closed the door behind him and left Elliot and Olivia to themselves.

"I'm sorry, Liv." Elliot whispered.

"It's my own damn fault," she responded with what he swore sounded like a whimper. "I just thought if I could tough it out through the side effects, it would be over sooner. If I had known it was something more, I would've said something."

"I know," he let go of her hand, pulling his chair in closer towards the bed. He gently ran his fingers through her hair, hoping it brought at least an ounce of comfort to her. "It's not your fault. On roads like this, bumps are bound to happen. But you have a pretty good track record of moving past them. And I'm gonna be here, every step of the way."

"You have to go back to work soon, El," she sighed. "You can't stay by my side forever."

For all the wrong reasons, his heart sank at those words. He knew what she meant. But in the grand scheme of things, those words could often mean more than what she meant by them. Anyone who didn't have the context of what she meant would've thought exactly what he refused to allow himself to think - they would think something so much more.

There was a dangerous question looming over his head after hearing that.

What if I want to?

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, mostly to himself.

They sat in silence as he stroked her head. Not long after, she had drifted back into the sleep she desperately needed.

When she shuffled her exhausted body into the front entrance of her building, she wondered why the doorman looked so relieved to see her. However, she was too worn out to ponder on it for too long. Getting up to her apartment felt like climbing a mountain, and the shiny numbers on her door were like a fucking beacon to her.

"Let's get some food in you before you call it a night, okay?" Elliot offered, guiding her to her favorite seat on the sectional couch. She slumped down tiredly onto the cushions, nodding at his suggestion.

"Hungry for anything in particular?" He asked. He always asked now, especially knowing that her appetite was long gone. It was always easier to get her to eat if it was something she wanted - which was still rare.

She used all of her remaining strength to toss the afghan blanket over her legs. "Chef's choice."

"Mac and cheese sound okay to you?" Elliot asked, reaching into the cabinet to grab the familiar blue box of Kraft.

"That sounds really good actually," she allowed herself a small smile, recognizing that she had an appetite for the first time in a while.

His heart fluttered in his chest when he spotted that rare grin on her face, and he couldn't help but to match it. She looked so tired and so sick, but her smile was always a win. In a field of losses, it was a welcomed victory.

A few minutes later, he crashed on the couch beside her with two bowls of mac and cheese in his hands. He placed hers in her lap over the blanket, warning her that it was hot. He could see how exhausted she was when her hand trembled as she lifted the fork to her mouth. "How did you know I had an Epi-Pen here?" she asked as soon as her mouth wasn't full.

A small smile grew on his lips. "Well, you have a penicillin allergy. But, that wasn't how I remembered. It was the crab rangoons," he said. She raised her brow at him in confusion. "Munch brought in crab rangoons for lunch one time and you made him brush his teeth after eating them," he laughed.

"I wasn't planning on kissing him! But he's always breathing through his mouth!" she exclaimed as much as she could. "Wait… that was so long ago. You remembered?"

"Of course, I remembered. I'm a detective, it's my job to remember what my partner is allergic to."

A moment of silence passed between them.

"Peanuts," she said.

"What?"

"Peanuts." she repeated. "Maureen and Dickie are allergic to peanuts, just like your mom is. But you, Kathleen, Liz, and Eli aren't. However, Eli is allergic to tuna."

"How do you know that?" he marveled.

"I'm a detective." she parroted his earlier response.

He set his empty bowl on the coffee table, relaxing back into the couch. His back ached from the hospital chairs, as usual. However, he was too busy being grateful for the fact that she was okay to be upset about his own pain.

She ate about half of the bowl of food, which was more than enough for him to be happy with. Lately, even if she ate a quarter of a serving, that was a win. As soon as she tiredly let the fork hit the edge of the bowl, he knew she was done. He lifted it from her lap, sliding it next to his on the table.

"I should probably stay awake for a little bit to make sure I don't get sick from eating," she murmured, barely able to keep her eyes open.

"Here," he patted his lap. "Lay your head down."

She didn't have the energy or will to reject the offer that actually seemed alluring. She slid outward, moving to rest her head on his lap. Her body relaxed into him, recognizing the scent of him and the comfort it brought her.

He carefully undid her hair from the small pony it had been pulled into. Running his hand through, he could feel that it was becoming thinner. Keller did tell her there was a chance she wouldn't actually lose it completely - that only some types of chemo caused that reaction. He often wondered if it was a worry of hers or if she was more concerned about finishing chemo than dealing with the aftermath of it.

Her breathing slowed as she started to drift off. His thumb grazed her forehead as he rubbed soft and slow strokes against her scalp. He thought back to what she had said in the hospital - him not being able to stay at her side forever. From where she was right now, the sight in front of him made him want nothing else but to stay beside her forever. She was such a fighter, even when she didn't want to be. Even now, in the throes of exhaustion, she was still fighting.

In some ways, it was strange to be lying on her couch with her head in his lap. In an even stranger way, it felt all too right. They had fallen into the life of living together so easily - as if they had been living together for years. Well… they sort of did. He'd spent more time with her than he did with his wife when he was still married. Even if it was all business, there were really only two jobs that acted as a home away from home - the force and the medicine field. Jobs where you practically lived in it.

In a way, they had just shifted. No more precinct together, but home life together instead. Maybe that's why it felt normal.

He wanted to believe that. It would be so much easier to believe that.

He was going to stay by her side come hell or high water. No matter what it took.

"Elliot!" Cragen said, taken aback. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

He smiled, closing the office door behind him "Good to see you too, Cap."

"Take a seat," Cragen gestured towards the chairs in front of his desk. Elliot slid into the seat, declining Cragen's wordless offer of a Twizzler. "What can I do for you?"

He cut right to the chase, not bothering to try to butter Cragen up to lean in favor of him. "My time off is coming to an end, isn't it? I've used up all of my PTO and sick days."

Cragen nodded with an unfortunate frown. "I'm afraid so, yes."

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, his bright blue eyes looking rather desperate. "Any way I can take a longer extension? I know I'm putting you out as it is, but I just have to ask."

Cragen took a deep breath, staring at his detective. "She's not doing good, is she?"

Elliot felt his shoulders drop with a sigh. He looked away from Cragen, unable to handle the sad expression on the man's face. He shook his head ever so softly, as if he was afraid to admit it. No. She's not.

Cragen nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm down by two detectives, but we're making it work in the meantime. I know 1PP isn't thrilled about that, but they don't run this squad. I do. So, I think I can work out a deal that will benefit everyone."

"I'm all ears." Elliot responded.

"More than anything, we're backed up on paperwork." Cragen began, interlacing his fingers as he leaned forward. "With Munch and Fin handling most of the field work, we're out of balance. If you can take on some of the desk duty work, I'll let you do it from home. But there is a chance I'll need to call you in, even just for a consult or if things get swamped. How does that sound?"

Elliot sighed with relief, practically on the verge of tears. "That… that's perfect. You've got a deal. Thank you."

"So uh — I haven't really been in the loop." Cragen dropped his head with shame. "What's been going on?"

Elliot scratched the back of his head nervously. "Uh. Well, the original plan was chemo at home for a few weeks. That resulted in the near stopping of my heart when we found out she was allergic to the meds they were giving her. As of now, chemo and radiation are just precautionary. She had the full removal surgery, so she's technically cancer-free. But that chemo is just kicking her ass. I have a bad feeling that the new kind is going to be even worse on her."

Cragen's head fell to the side before dropping down completely. "It's strange here without her."

"It's strange everywhere," Elliot interjected rather urgently. "Because even when she's there, she's not. I just — I wanna…" he trailed off, his hands going chest-length up in the air as if they would convey his point. "I wanna reach in and pull her back… and I can't."

"The hardest part isn't helping someone through it — it's watching them go through it knowing you can't change it." Cragen sighed.

"Y'know, it's better than it was. She would go days without speaking, living in her own little world. Except, now I can't tell if that's worse or not because she's coming back, and some days are good, but some of them aren't. On those bad days, if she's still coherent, then there's really no hiding from just how bad it is." Elliot's eyes looked up from his lap, a stray and quiet tear falling down his cheek. He felt his voice crack before he even started to speak again, "You wouldn't recognize her if you saw her. If you heard her voice; heard her speak. It's like her— it's like her spirit is just as broken as her body."

Cragen would've been lying if he said Elliot's words and tears didn't break his heart. There was something different about this place now. Not just because of Olivia's absence. Every single one of them were part of this big, dysfunctional family. Yes, even as cliché as it was, they were a family. He knew what Elliot was talking about because every person on the squad acted as if some part of their soul had been plucked out with Olivia's. They were missing a key piece of their most important puzzle.

They all missed Olivia and Elliot both. Munch missed hearing the two of them finish each other's sentences. Cragen missed the way Elliot could go from macho man to a big softie the moment a child walked in their doors. Fin missed the jokes Olivia would crack on a good day. Casey missed the rhythm and flow of the precinct whenever she stepped in.

Cragen took a moment to collect himself, stifling the sadness in his voice with a stuffy inhale. "You uh — you takin' care of yourself?"

Elliot met his eyes, his own wide and confused. He scuffed, "I'm the last thing on my mind. I have a roof over my head and food on my plate. That's all that matters for anything concerning myself."

The captain rolled his eyes. "You know how Olivia's voice seems to live in all of our heads? As if she's replaced our consciences?"

"Yeah?"

"What the hell would she say to you if she heard you say that just now? And I'm not talking about the Olivia you know right now. I'm talking about the real Olivia - the one you've known for countless years."

Elliot gulped, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He slowly shook his head. "She'd tell me… it's important to take care of myself. That if I'm going to take care of someone, I need to take care of myself too or else my help is pointless."

"Exactly," Cragen said, eyeing his detective carefully. "Don't let yourself fall away, Elliot. We need both of you back here in one piece eventually. All of us."