Author's note -

I was actually going to add more to this chapter but decided to leave it there.

I know it's short and I'm sorry but tough shit...I mean that in a caring way.

Anyway, this is chapter two. You're very lucky because I'm mean't to be doing an english essay on propaganda - Blurgh.

Disclaimer - I have no pants...sort of...I have no jeans - Do you think I'm going to own anything if I don't own a pair of jeans?(They ripped - both pairs within the same week) No.

I probably won't have another chapter up until next week end.

So...

Enjoy...

Elliot quickly shifted so he could see Olivia's back more clearly. Blood was gently seeping from a wound that he realised she must have gotten when she was dragged through the window. It wasn't too bad because her ripped shirt seemed to be doing a nice job of soaking up the blood. By the looks of things Elliot thought she might need stitches.

Olivia groggily sat up and tried to rub her arms and legs to keep warm. Her head had stopped spinning now but there was still a dull throb. She hissed in pain when she moved her arms, also quickly discovering her other injury.

"We called an ambulance, Liv." Elliot told her, also feeling the cold biting into his skin.

"What? Are you serious? I don't need to go to hospital." Olivia protested.

Elliot was about to come back with some snide remark but was cut off by Leroy, "I agree."

Elliot's brow furrowed and Olivia looked up at their fellow officer, "See Elliot, why can't you be more like him?" Olivia shook her head.

'Because I care about you more.'

'Because I know better than to let you get away with hospital visits.'

'Because I've known you for nearly nine years.'

'Because you're stubborn.'

'Because Cragen will kick my arse if something happens to you.'

'Because I don't want anything to happen to you.'

Elliot wanted to say all these things but what came out was something no-one was expecting.

"Because he has a gun." Olivia furrowed her brow then followed Elliot's gaze to where Leroy had a gun trained on Olivia. Leroy knew that holding a gun to just one of them would keep the other there as well.

"Very good detective." All of a sudden Leroy's features were distorted by something sickening.

"What the hell do you want?" Olivia's ferocity was back and she was pissed; not only did she have a probable concussion but she was being held at gun point.

Elliot subtly felt for the rubber 'up' button of the portable that was clipped to his belt. He quickly found it and gently began pressing it. He knew the channel they had been on and what frequency he wanted so he knew the amount of times the button needed to be pressed.

"Well, you know about that little room now and we can't have you going back to your station house and reporting it because then I'd be in the same position that you are right now." Leroy smirked at this.

Bingo!

Elliot held the talk button, hoping that Munch was in the radio room for his lunch hour, listening in to see if he could find any proof to dignify his 'M&M and US Presidents' theory.

"And what position is that?" Olivia quirked an eye brow.

"The position where someone else is holding the gun."

Elliot's gaze shifted from Leroy to Olivia. He almost looked away again but something caught his eye. He noticed Olivia's gun was no longer in its holster. He caught a glimpse of the butt in her hand and already knew how this was going to be played out.

He quickly started fumbling with the holster of is own gun.

"What do you think you're doing?" Leroy asked.

"Scratching." Elliot replied.

"Throw your gun's towards me."

That was the signal. Both Elliot and Olivia raised their guns and pointed them at Leroy.

Leroy laughed; the sound grating on every nerve.

"Either one of you shoots me and I'm going to shoot her." Leroy grinned maliciously.

Before anyone good comprehend the proposition just made the shrill sound of a shot being fired was made, quickly followed by a second, third and forth.

Leroy's body collapsed on top of Olivia due to the position he had been standing.

Olivia fell back onto the grass with the weight of the dead man's body, feeling desperate t move from her position as her breath became short and rushed as she struggled to find the oxygen she needed. It hurt to breathe; the cold air was burning her lungs and made her throat felt like it was being cut from the inside out.

She gasped as she felt blood trickling across her stomach and dripping down her waist and onto to the frozen grass below.

She wanted to be sick.

Elliot could account for two shots and he knew Olivia could account for at least one. It was her shot that had set him off. He prayed that she had fired two as well because if she hadn't there was every possibility that she had been the one to receive the second shot.

Sorry for the cliffie but I couldn't help myself. I know, I'm cruel.

Anyway, tonight I went to my mum's friend's birthday get together and the husband of one of the women's friends made her a cake - An actual 'sponge' cake. It was pretty funny. THen they pulled out the real cake which was crap - litterally. It was chocolate and some of the icing had been piped to look like...well, shit. They had stuck bits of 'fruit tingles' in it to look like other stuff too. It was hilarious - childish but hilarious.

Okay, I'm about to fall asleep here.

Nighty night!

Xoxo.