oh no.
it's happening.
that strange phenomena for which no scientific explanation can be found. STORY BONDING. when an author suddenly find his or herself unable to tear themselves away from a work, to the point when normal daily activity begins to occur around the subject's literary work.
I now listen to music and try to associate it with the story. I walk down the street and try to incorporate everything I see into the plot. I find myself muttering about character flaws throughout earth science, scribbling plotline notes on the side of my math notebook, considering possible endings as I eat dinner. I am now addicted helplessly to this story.
fans of the story, you may now stand up and do the wave. there is no way I am going to turn away from this now.
as usual, thank you for your wondrously uplifting comments. they have come in faster than myself to my robitussin. that is like speed of light, here. or speed of sound, if we want to give credit to Chris Martin, celebrated celebrity sugar daddy.
and now for a chapter most of you have been waiting all the live-long story for. you may begin your apprehensive bouncing in 3-2-1-GO!
it is a good thing I do not own these characters, or you would see a lot more of naked Olivia and Elliot.
She lay face down on the red leather bench, head cradled in her own arms, her mind suddenly weary. She was so sick of thinking- she'd been thinking all day, no, debating with herself all day, and all she needed right now was a little rest. A little relaxation.
And nothing awkward.
She was grateful for the towel resting on anything she didn't need him to see.
Not like she needed him to see her like this at all.
All it takes is one thing- one hand-holding-thing- and everything changes.
She was practically dozing off when the door opened, the music was turned up, and someone slid onto the bench beside her.
She covered her eyes when she heard Elliot -"Where is my towel?"-Stabler spreading himself out on the leather. Well, here was something she was sure the rest of the squad had been chuckling about for years. The two partners, Benson and Stabler, naked in a room together.
Yes, there were towels.
But still…
Beneath her fingers, she rolled her eyes. Nothing awkward about this. Nope. Nothing at all.
Oh god. Her thoughts had become sarcastic too. Now she was really hitting the middle-age pessimism thing…
"Are you two ready?" She removed her fingers, looking up at a grinning Julie, her masseuse.
Olivia chanced a glance in Elliot's direction. His fingers were over his eyes as well (at least he's modest ) and he gave the woman a thumbs-up.
There were suddenly fingers on her shoulders. Moving fingers. Heavenly fingers.
Wow…I am going to start going undercover way more often.
Of course, they were really screwing this whole case up anyway. First off, no honeymooning couple in their right mind would be covering their eyes right now.
She pulled her hands from around her face, placing them at her sides. She tilted her head towards him, smiling at his face. He looked like he was asleep. But having sex.
OH JESUS, LIV! HOW ARE YOU THINKING THAT?
She needed to change the subject running through her mind. She needed to remind herself of the current situation.
This wasn't awkward. They were married. This was…perfectly normal. And romantic.
Who would have thought?
"Don't doze off on me, Dan." She said, staring at his relaxed face. It took him a second to respond, as though he too had forgotten his current identity, and he opened his eyes shyly, blinking at her.
"Just enjoying myself." He said, winking at her. She smiled back, letting out a sigh as the hands reached the small of her back.
"Don't worry." Julie said, "We'll let you two experiment yourself in a few minutes."
With what? Sex?
She tried not to shudder. That wasn't dirty or anything…
Yeah fucking right, lady.
Hard as she tired not to, Olivia did end up falling asleep. When she awoke fifteen minutes later, a pleasant dream involving herself and bathing in a vat of melted chocolate suddenly over, Julie was speaking softly in her ear.
"If I were you, I'd go for his shoulders first. He looks really tense."
"What?" She opened her eyes, turning to the blonde woman beside her, smiling pleasantly.
"I heated up a bath for you in the next room. You two are welcome to it anytime you want."
And with that, the masseuses were gone.
Oh, this is just not good.
She was alone in the room with him. She was naked. He was naked.
There towels, yes, she knew, but still…
Naked.
When she turned to him, he was wearing a robe. Oh, thank heavens…
"Well, that was the best thing I have had done to me in a number of years."
"Better than sex?"
Did I just say that?
"Oh yeah…" He grinned, and then blushed. She was still naked. She still had a towel across her behind, but all the same…
"Turn away, will you?" She stood up once she knew he was looking away, and quickly slipped into the robe hanging beside her bench.
"Can I look now?" He asked, his hands over his eyes as he stood in the corner.
"Yes, fine." She sat down on the edge of the bench, eyeing the stereos in the corners of the room. The romantic jazz was not helping lighten the mood anymore. And through the door to her right, a hot bath…well, this was definitely going to be the hardest case she had ever worked on.
Elliot sat across from her, staring at his toes, which he wiggled impatiently. "This isn't weird or anything…" He said softly, examining his hand.
"I know," She tried to laugh. She could not. "I hope they're not watching through some secret window or something."
"If they are, we could probably bust them for it."
She tried to laugh again. No go. "And at least we wouldn't have to be the Tracy's anymore."
"What? You don't like being richer and happier?"
"It's just a little hard to…adjust."
"Marriage is like that."
She looked up at him, and saw he was staring at her, no longer interested in his appendages.
"What happened?" She asked, looking into the cool expression in his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"What happened with you and Kathy?"
She saw his eyes darken, his brows furrow. Way to go Olivia, push just the right button and you get to turn on the Elliot-Beast Version 2.0.
"The separation…well-"
"No. Not that. You never told me how you two got together."
"I'm pretty sure I did."
"No, you didn't."
"I did." He said, folding his arms across his chest.
She rolled her eyes. "No, you did not. Trust me."
"I do." He stared at her, something strange in his expression. Her comeback was stifled for a moment, and she found herself enamored by his eyes, by the way his lips had formed the words. "I don't remember the first time I saw her. I don't even remember where our first date was. But I remember loving her."
"How did you know you were going to marry her?"
"I didn't. She said she was pregnant. I hadn't even known her for three months yet. But what was I supposed to do, leave her? Forget her?"
"Oh, right." She had known that. Why did I ask that question? Why did I even bring this completely moronic subject up? I am only asking for trouble here!
"It happens too fast sometimes. I think that's how it goes with a lot of relationships. One minute you want to meet her, the next minute you're married. But other relationships…I guess they're more like a slow thaw."
Like ours.
She bit her lip.
OR NOT! WHERE DID THAT COME FROM!
But she saw his face. She did not stop him from continuing, from pouring out everything he must have kept inside for so long. She was glad she was here, able to listen, able to know he had confided something in her. She was glad it was her that he had chosen.
"I guess this whole lifestyle didn't agree with us. We couldn't get along anymore. Nothing was working out. All the loose ends we'd meant to tie up someday…they just kept getting longer and farther apart. The differences we'd once only acknowledged were becoming these huge crevices in our relationship. And this job…god, I don't know what it was. But there was just something about it. She always hated it. But the last year, oh…she loathed it. And you know how I am- I become the job sometimes. So she started to hate me, I think. And then she started coming up with excuses, accusation. She even said…" He stopped, looking up at her. Olivia cocked her head, narrowing her eyes at him.
"What?"
"We got a marriage counselor." He continued as though he had not heard her. "I guess she thought that would fix everything, because when nothing new happened, she just got more upset. It made it worse in a way, because things that were better left unsaid before suddenly had to be voiced, and suddenly there were more things to get angry at each other for. And she was always telling the woman something, always continuing some conversation I was not originally a part of. We'd go there and sit down, and it was like they'd pick up where they left off. I just sat there and talked when they told me to. If anything, it just made me feel worse about it. About coming. About having a reason to be here. She was here to solve her problems. I was just one of them."
"You did the right thing, looking for help." It was all she could say. She reached out, took his hand. She grasped fingers she had once winced at, fingers she had been regretting all day. He did not pull away. "And after everything, if you still couldn't work out, I guess something really is wrong. Maybe you just need to take a little break from it from a while, and then come back…"
She could never see Kathy and Elliot together again. Not after the horror stories he'd once confided to her over lunch break, about the fights and the curses, the hatred between them. How could they mend it?
And now that she thought about it, did she, Olivia Benson, want them back together?
Of course I do. I want him in a happy marriage. I want them to be happy together again, just like before. Just like how it used to be. When they were a family.
When I was lonely. When I was going through men like Kleenex.
And then digging through the garbage to pull them back out one by one again.
"I don't know what's going to happen, you know?" He said quietly, his eyes now back on his hands. "We haven't spoken in a few weeks, except to exchange the paperwork. We tried talking. We tried giving each other second chances, tried taking breaks, tried every option they gave us. But where do you go when nothing else works?"
"Somewhere else." She said it before she could stop herself. He was looking up at her, that strange expression in his eyes again.
He moved forward. She blinked at him, suddenly unaware of her surroundings.
He was standing before her, his powerful figure taking up every essence of her being. His hands were on her shoulders. She waited, she held her breath, she did not close her eyes.
And then he bent over.
And placed his head beside hers.
And said: "Thank you."
It was over. Nothing. She'd expected something. But what? She hadn't…no, she was just…what was going on?
"Anytime." She tried to give him a smile.
"You want to get back to work?" He asked, still standing.
"I'd be glad to."
"Then lie down on the table."
She stared at him, her eyes widening.
"You heard me, Lauren Tracy. On the table." He gave her a stern glance, though it was accompanied by a grin.
Before she could say something, before she could even think, she had already moved to the table, settled on it, and rested her chin in her arms.
Stop! Get up! Don't start this!
Because you won't be able to stop.
She closed her eyes. His hand went to the back collar of her robe, slipping it down over her right shoulder, then her left. She felt the smooth warmth of his fingertips gracing her skin, sending sparks through her body. His touch was like lightning, striking her body with deadly accuracy.
So slowly, so very slowly, he was pressing his hands against her back, now bared before him. He was kneading her shoulders, running his hands across her as though impassioned. She arched her back against him, giving in to the excited feeling growing in her chest. The primal nerves in her belly. The warmth growing in her head.
"How am I doing?" He asked, his voice so normal, so different from the emotion his hands were now spreading.
"Heavenly." She whispered, barely able to speak above the emotional rush in her ears.
And while his hands were moving, his breath was growing closer to her skin. She felt it against the back of her neck, growing warmer.
And before she could do anything, he was there.
He was everywhere.
His mouth was touching her neck, his lips moving across her skin. Everything that had once tingled lightly was now bursting with feeling, emotions colliding with passion and then shooting everywhere and between. She turned onto her side, and felt his knee on the bench now, pressed against her leg.
She pulled him in so that his lips were on her neck, her cheek, her chin. She pulled herself up into him until their mouths were united in harmonic bliss, and then let him pull on her bottom lip, toy with her upper lip, tease every muscle of her face with his tongue, now touching the roof of her mouth.
It had never felt so good to kiss a man. It had never felt so wonderful to feel a mouth against her own, tasting lips that existed only in dreams. She realized in that moment how much she had craved, how all of these years she had not been fooling herself. She really had wanted him. She really had imagined him so many times when another man had shared his bed.
And now he was here.
Elliot.
Elliot.
ELLIOT!
She pulled away, her eyes widening in shock. "No!" She screamed, pushing his body from hers. "No, no, no!"
He stared in confusion, something like pain in his eyes.
She realized her chest was bare and covered it with her arms, pulling the towel across her waist.
No no no no no no no no no no…
"I don't…" He continued to stare, his hand held limply before him as though wounded. "I don't understand…"
"Please Elliot…" Oh god. She was crying. She was actually crying. And she was naked. And he was here. She had kissed him. She had held him there. She'd pressed her bare chest against him. Bare chest. Breasts. Boobs. She'd touched him with them. She let his lips…oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck.
And now the crying was sobbing. She was sobbing naked on a leather bench, and he was standing there, frozen except for the occasional sharp intakes of breath. The sobbing shook her body, her naked body, and she collapsed across the bench, curling into a protective position.
He reached out his hand as though to touch her, and then drew away.
"Olivia…"
"No." She cried, tears falling into her mouth, salt on a tongue that had once touched his. "Elliot, we can't…we shouldn't have…"
"But we did."
She looked up at him, pushing the hair from her face. He pulled the robe onto her shoulders, and she still lay there, frozen, numb.
"I can't do this, Elliot. I can't go through all of…all of this."
"All of what?"
"This…this relationship thing. You're…you're still married, Elliot. You still are. That makes me 'the other woman.' We can't do this. We can't be…guilty."
He said nothing. She tried to stop crying. She could not. If anything, her sobbing worsened.
"I don't know what just happened. But we can't let it happen again. We can't just…do something like that. Never again."
He remained silent. He moved towards the door. She took a deep breath.
She stared at her hands.
She sniffed.
She looked up, and she followed him out the door and back to their room.
And neither said a word.