Songs: Without Fear by Dermot Kennedy and Like Real People Do by Hozier.
Chapter 10- Elliot
He woke when their phones began to ring at the same time. He was pulled from a deep sleep and became aware that she was still resting soundly on top of him. Olivia was lying on him. It was too much for his brain to fully comprehend. He looked across the room to the clock on the TV.
3 a.m.
He knew the ring tones meant they'd caught a case, and whatever peace they'd found in the hours before had been shattered. He glanced down at her and took in the sight of how different she looked while asleep. Her eyelashes were long, and her face was so relaxed. She looked young. He found himself wondering what she had looked like as a child or what her child would look like.
"Liv," he said as he lifted her with him while he sat up. She quickly came to, her eyes peeling open to greet the worst hour of the night. Nothing good ever happened at 3 a.m.
"What's…" she slurred, and he could tell she was disoriented. She ran a hand through her hair and squeezed it between her fingers, as she placed her other hand flat against his chest for support.
"We're getting called in," he said as a touch point. She looked up to him, and he watched as her brain pieced together everything that was happening. She let her hand drop as she moved off him.
"Who answers first?" she asked as she leaned towards their disruptive phones that buzzed on the coffee table.
"You," he nodded towards her phone. She grasped her cell phone and flipped it open, while he hid the sound of his ringtone by stuffing the phone behind the couch cushion.
"Benson," she said, and he smiled as he realized he'd called her a hundred times in the middle of the night about a case. He'd always wondered what she looked like while answering those calls, now he knew.
"We caught a double rape homicide; two Hudson students last seen leaving a party. Bodies were turned up fresh by Times Square trash collectors," Cragen's voice rattled off, and Elliot could hear all the details through the speaker on her phone.
"Be there in a few," she said as she risked a glance towards him.
"Do you know where your partner is? He didn't answer Munch's call," Cragen added as they both looked at his now silent phone, where it was hiding in the cushion.
"I'll call him, Cap," she said as she knocked her knee into his.
"Alright, see you in a few," he said and then disconnected the line. She flipped her phone shut and dropped it back onto the table.
"You're right; it is the worst night of the year," she grumbled, and he couldn't help but feel hurt even though he knew she was referring to the crime scene they had to go to and not the evening they had spent together.
"We could just not go, go back to bed instead," he said. The sleep was still thick in his voice, and he realized his slip as he said it. Bed.
"Yeah, and you can pay your rent and mortgage with what exactly?"
"My great looks," he teased as he began to stand. He really didn't want to leave his apartment and go into the cold.
"You have an extra toothbrush?" she asked, and he could see she was trying to piece together how they were going to play this off in front of their colleagues. All she had were the clothes she had on yesterday, and there was no time to get all the way back to her Manhattan apartment.
"He's going to expect me in Manhattan time, fuck," she said as the realization hit her.
"There's new toothbrushes under the sink. My toothpaste is in the cabinet, you can shower if you want, there's towels under the sink too and don't stress, it's so damn early I don't think Cragen is going to be thinking about where you came from."
"Munch will," she groaned as she disappeared into his bathroom without looking at him. They hadn't even done anything and had to deal with consequences.
She emerged some minutes later with wet hair and a scowl on her face. The thought of her in his shower made him strain in his sweats. He'd woken up halfway there, and then that tipped him all the way to needing release.
"I'm going to get going so we don't show up at the same time," she said as she pulled on her coat and grabbed her phone. Her clothes from yesterday were back on, and he couldn't help but worry that it might be suspicious. They had left together yesterday.
"I'll bring you coffee, alright," he said as he stood with his lower body blocked behind his couch so she couldn't see the effect she had on him.
"And a bagel?" she asked as she glanced from her phone to him. She must have been reading the exact location of the dump.
"And a bagel," he confirmed with a grin to her.
"See you in a few, El," she said as she dropped her phone into her coat pocket. She slipped out his door and into the cold morning of November 1st.
Two Weeks Later / 4:30 p.m.
The bullet blasted through his elbow, and he hit the courtroom floor. Not the best start to the weekend.
He woke in the hospital with a groggy feeling in his temples. He was hooked to machines and an IV drip. He was alone. He could see from the window of his room that Fin was walking into Munch's room with a bag of something in hand. Munch must have been hit too. What the hell had happened? Of all the places he could be shot, he wouldn't have bet high money on court being one of them. He also had a third hit on his gun and was probably going to have to submit to some IAB nonsense. Killing a man never sat right with him, no matter how foul or ill, they were still a person. He needed to go to confession. He hadn't been in years. He always told himself he'd go, but then life got away from him.
Where was his partner? She should be here by now. He thanked God that she hadn't been in the courthouse. There had been casualties, and the thought that it could have easily been her made his temples pound harder.
She'd been making herself scarce since the night at his apartment. He'd arrived at the crime scene with her coffee and bagel in hand, and she took it from him without another word or acknowledgement of what was happening between them. Happening between them. There was nothing happening between them, and she was being pretty adamant about that by the way she'd been dodging his questions. He thought about calling her every night as he sat alone on his couch. He never got the nerve up to do it. Her move.
"Elliot!" Her voice broke his thoughts as she came through the door. Her eyes were washed with worry, and he could tell she was carrying all the tension in her shoulders. He was sure Cragen had told her he was alive, but she needed to see him with her own eyes before her shoulders would loosen. He knew, because he'd feel the same way if it had been her in the hospital bed. The way she called his name was breathy and full of difficult-to-identify emotions. If it weren't for the circumstances, he'd have enjoyed the way it sounded.
"About time," he grumbled as he shot her a crooked grin.
"I came as fast as I could, but I hit every stoplight," she exhaled, and he could see she was struggling to catch her breath. She approached the side of his bed and stood over him as she examined him fully.
"Is that arm still going to work?" she asked as she reached for his hand. He allowed her to grasp his fingers, and he was surprised she had chosen to do it. She'd been all about the boundaries in the last two weeks. Her move. He followed her play as he let his hand clutch to hers.
"It'll work," he said as he shot his eyes up to her in implication.
"Has anyone called Kathy yet?" she redirected as she redacted her hand, and he couldn't help but get frustrated.
"Don't."
"Elliot...don't be like that, you know..." she said in that righteous voice that made him want to remind her how she'd taken his thumb in her mouth.
"She started divorce proceedings."
"When?"
"A couple weeks ago."
"I've got the papers at home. I just haven't signed them," he said as he gauged the reaction on her face. She changed the subject to the shooting, and he was growing more irritated with her avoidance. A doctor came in and broke their moment.
"I can release him to you; his vitals look good. He just needs to take it easy on that arm for a while," the nurse said as she spoke to Olivia like he was her child. "He's on heavy pain medications, so he'll need to be driven home," she added as her eyes noticed Olivia's badge, and she suddenly lost confidence on who her patient should be released to. Elliot realized the doctor's assumption and took some joy in the way Olivia stiffened like she was on stand.
"Sounds good," she nodded to the doctor in a coy fashion that made him chuckle. When the door latched shut, he turned to her,
"Released to you," he mumbled with a raise to his eyebrows.
"I'm going to call your kids," she said as she reached for her phone in her back pocket.
"Liv, they're busy; they don't need to be dealing with me tonight."
"You ever think that maybe I'm busy tonight?" she said as she looked him directly in the eyes.
"So you don't want me to be released to you," he swallowed as he tried to feel her out.
"I could call Rebecca," she grumbled. So that was what the attitude was about.
"Will you just drive me home?" he said in a softer tone, and he watched her body language loosen.
"I guess since I almost lost you in the line of duty, it's the least I could do," she said as she grazed his forearm with her fingertips. He gave her a soft smile. "I'm going to go get you a smoothie while we wait for the discharge papers."
"Peach," he called after her.
"Peach," she repeated as she nodded her head up like she was committing another one of his preferences to memory.
She parallel parked his car, and her keys lingered on the ignition. She'd have to take the subway or a taxi home since Cragen took their squad car back to the station.
"You can take my car if you come get me in the morning," he suggested because he didn't like the idea of her riding the subway after dark. He knew she did it all the time, but he still didn't like it.
"Cragen told you to take the day."
"You know I'm not going to do that," he said as he glanced over to her. Her legs extended to the pedals of his car. She hadn't adjusted his seat; her legs were that long. She looked to him, her eyes falling to his sling.
"You want me to walk you up?" she asked, and he was happy she had. He'd half expected her to kick him to the curb in the name of boundaries.
"Yeah, I could use a hand," he said, and she swallowed. She turned off the car and tossed him his keys as she got out. They still hadn't settled how she'd be getting home.
They climbed the stairs to his doorway, and he struggled with the lock with only one hand.
"Here, let me get it," she said as she stepped into his space and unlocked the door. She headed into his kitchen and started arranging his pain medications on the counter. She also dropped his bag of belonging that he had been admitted with. His gun, wallet, and clothes were all in the plastic bag. He was still wearing his sweats and the paper hospital gown over his chest.
"Want me to make you dinner?" she asked from behind his kitchen counter. He just about spun around on his heels to face her.
"Do I need to get my ears checked, or did I just hear Olivia Benson offer to cook for me," he laughed as he eyed his partner up and down.
"I was trying to be nice; you aren't supposed to take these on an empty stomach," she defended herself as she held up one of the orange prescription bottles.
"Do you even know how to use a stove?"
"I can manage," she shrugged as the corner of her mouth tugged up.
"Alright, I have to admit I'm curious to see this; there's pasta and sauce in the cabinet," he said as he nodded his head towards the cabinet where he kept his groceries. She followed his motion and located the ingredients.
"You're such a misogynist," she said under her breath as she turned the stove top on. He couldn't help but admit that he loved seeing her being domestic.
"Hey now, I cooked on the weekends. The kids always said they preferred my dinners over Kathy's," he shared with a tinge of pride in his voice. He missed cooking for his family.
"Just go sit down," she said with an eye roll, and he smiled as he watched her crack the dry spaghetti in half.
"Don't burn my apartment down," he said as he took a seat at his table instead of in his living room, because he wanted to watch her. She moved around his kitchen with ease as if she inherently knew where he would keep things: pot, wooden spoon, seasoning, and strainer. He didn't have to tell her where to find anything. He reveled in the silence as he watched her pretend to enjoy cooking. Then he decided to disturb the moment.
"I thought you were busy tonight?" She looked up from the pot where she was poking at the noodles.
"I was."
"What were your plans?"
"I was going to cook Trevor dinner," she said as her eyes darted towards the food she was preparing him.
"So you are dating him?" he asked as he felt the pain in his arm stronger than he had a moment ago.
"I'm...seeing him," she clarified as she crossed one foot over the other and angled her body against the stove, so she was facing his direction.
"Is it serious?"
"As serious as I'm capable of," she swallowed, and before he could decide how he should respond, the boiling water interrupted them.
"I'm happy for you," he lied as she turned down the fire. She didn't acknowledge what he said. Instead, she used his potholders to lift the pot and strain the pasta over his tiny sink.
"He's a defense attorney; I'm a long way from wanting to be seen with him in public," she clarified as she scooped a heap of noodles into a bowl.
"So that's why you were going to cook for him, to avoid going out?" he asked as he watched her pour sauce onto the bowl. He laughed internally that she didn't mix it first, she really was terrible in the kitchen.
"Something like that," she said in almost a whisper as she passed the bowl across the counter to him. He wondered if being called in on the Maria case that night made her realize she didn't want to be seen in public with the man who attempts to get off the guys they catch. She slid a fork as well and then made herself a bowl.
"Thanks Liv," he said as he twisted some noodles around his fork and lifted them to his mouth. Good.
"Don't get used to it."
"I'll try not to make a habit out of getting shot."
"Good," she smiled as she let her eyes linger on him.