Twenty minutes later Olivia was a lone customer in the over-stocked bodega located around the corner from her apartment. Filling a grocery basket on her arm with bananas, canned soup, eggs, and yogurt, she reached for a half-gallon of milk. Still reeling from Elliot's outburst in the elevator, she leaned her head briefly against the cool glass door of the dairy case. She used to feel like their years together had taught her how to read him inside and out, but ever since she got back from Oregon she'd found he'd changed in ways. At first his changes had thrown her, but after time she granted them to him without resentment, knowing she'd changed, too. But now he was often unpredictable and that unnerved her, to say the least. His explosion stirred within her a flood of emotions. Hearing him say that he cares for her, well, of course it caused her to feel light on her feet. Almost like an out of body experience. It ignited a fire in her core. But she also knew it was dangerous. Gitano had taught them that. And that made Olivia angry. Irate that he dared to admit that to her, when present circumstances forbade her from receiving his admission in no other way than professionally. How did he expect her to do that? How does one process unprofessional feelings professionally? Didn't he know what kind of position it put her in when he blasted her like that? Leaving it to her self-control, hers alone, to reign in both of their ardor, their addiction towards each other. She didn't know how much longer she'd have the strength to carry the burden of restraint for both of them.
Walking from the refrigerated section toward the front of the bodega to check-out, an aisle caught her eye. The plastic sign posted at the top of the shelves identified the aisle as "Family Planning". Neatly lined rows of assorted pregnancy tests assaulted her. It was as though they were mocking her lonely errand to collect $10 worth of groceries. An errand done in the middle of the night. A task completed in order to fill just one shelf of her pitiful fridge that was part of her empty apartment. An apartment in which she more often visited than lived.
She thought of Kathy and imagined what it must have felt like for her to walk into a store similar to this one, seeking out this very aisle, disrupting the neat, identical rows of pregnancy tests by removing one with the intent of purchasing it and taking it home. That was one errand Olivia feared she would never have the opportunity to run.
She knew Elliot had warmed up to the idea of another baby. It hadn't taken him long. But there were comments he would make here and there, expressions he would have, especially right after a phone call with his wife, that made Olivia wonder if he still hadn't warmed up to the idea of being back with Kathy. The first time this thought crossed Olivia's mind she felt unreasonable. He'd wanted to reunite with Kathy and the kids for so long during the separation that it was hard for Olivia to dream him feeling otherwise. But truly, the vibe Olivia was getting from him lately was that if it weren't for the baby, he wouldn't be there. But that was as far as her speculating went. She never let herself question where Elliot would be if he wasn't with Kathy. She never let herself go there, because she knew she couldn't endure finding out she was wrong.
Again moving towards the register, she heard the bells jingle above the entrance door. Turning to see who else would be shopping in the wee morning hours, she was puzzled at the vacant doorway.
Catching the eye of the cashier, he read her mind and answered her perplexity. "He just left."
Raising an eyebrow, Olivia said, "Who just left? I'm the only one here."
"No, you weren't. There was another shopper—well, vagrant. I figured by the looks of him, he ain't gonna buy nothin'. 'Figured he was just comin' in to get warm for a few minutes. And I was right. He didn't buy nothin'. Just stood by the magazine rack for a bit and then left when I started watchin' him more."
"Odd," Olivia thought to herself. "I never heard him come in." Instead of vocalizing her thoughts, she just nodded in understanding as she placed her items on the counter for payment.
As she walked the block home, the chill of the night air began to seep into her bones. Quickening her pace, she continued to think about her partnership. She'd already felt obsessed, that it controlled her every thought. But after the unfolding words spoken at the station, she only felt more gripped by it all. Preoccupied by her problem, her normally sharp instincts were dulled and she never even noticed the shadow that pursued her from a short distance. It was methodic and dedicated. It would get what was it was due.
Opening the door to her building, Olivia groaned at the flights of stairs that lay before her. After her mother died, she needed a change. Deciding to move, she found a great apartment, within walking distance of work and for a reasonable price, but it had a major flaw: it was six flights up. Being considerably older, the structure housed no elevator. That was okay. She'd had enough of elevators tonight, anyway. Grudgingly, she began the trek upwards, pulling her purse higher up on her shoulder. She gripped the paper bag of groceries with one hand and the railing with the other.
Inserting her key into the lock and turning the deadbolt free, she immediately felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. Unfortunately with the clumsy bag of groceries occupying one arm, and her free hand fumbling with the keys she simply was not fast enough to reach the sig that still rested in the holster on her hip. The threat was already there, his hands pushing her through the door of her apartment, violently, with purpose. Olivia fell forward, dropping the bag of groceries as she tried to catch herself with her hands. Her purse slipped off her shoulder when she pushed her chest off the ground. She was seething with rage—at herself for the slow reflexes and allowing this jerk to catch her off-guard, and even angrier at him for invading her personal space with such force. Quickly she tried to reach for her gun, only to find that the holster was empty. The power of the fall must have caused it to drop out, but where? Desperately, her eyes scanned the floor but in vain.
He took advantage of her fall to the ground while he removed the keys from the lock and slammed the door. Just as he bent down to reach for her arm, she used all the strength she had in her abdominals to twist her body to the right, her elbow making contact with his right cheek. He turned away from her and groaned in pain as he tried to stand up straight. Recognizing her assailant as Tim Blackner, who looked ragged and dirty, Liv turned and tried to grab his arms to pin them behind his back, but the blow to his head had only proven to add to his adrenaline. Instead, he flung his arms forward, taking her with them. With her in front of him now he was able to grab her wrists in his strong hands. She felt as though he was crushing her bones. She was amazed at his strength, considering how thin he'd appeared in Andrea's pictures.
Together they wrestled awkwardly, pushing each other different directions as their arms and legs twisted, each attempting to disable the other further. Olivia couldn't help but be grateful that she'd apparently forgotten to turn off a table lamp the last time she'd been here, as now it provided the only light in the room that otherwise would have been pitch black, making her defense even weaker than it was now.
As they stumbled across the room towards the coat closet, and feeling as though she may be overcoming him, she spat out, "How did you know where I live?" Breathless in the skirmish, she gasped to continue, "We don't have to do fight like this, Tim. You don't have to do to me what you did to Andrea."
She could hear his reaction in his gut. A low growling noise. He seethed, "Shut up, you ignorant bitch! You have no idea what you're talking about. It wasn't what you think!"
"Then tell me," Olivia grunted, trying to pull his hand out of its grasp on her hair. "Uuuuuuggghhhhh! Let go!" Trying to wrap her leg around his, he twisted forward, pulling her hair and body with him. "Tim, let's-uuuggghhh!—stop this and you can calmly explain yourself. You know you're assaulting a cop, don't dig your hole any deeper than it is already."
"Yeah, as if you're going to pour me a cup of tea and actually listen to what I have to say. You'll listen, but only under my conditions!" Olivia felt a concentrated throbbing as he ripped a handful of hair from her skull.
Now more spiteful than ever, she masked her hurting and retorted, "What's the matter, Tim? Don't have your broom stick handy, so you have to resort to tricks from the playground?"
That smart remark didn't urge any kind of verbal reply from him…just a swift kick of his left leg behind her right, causing her leg to buckle and drop her to the floor. On the way down, her head slammed the corner of the wall and for a brief second her eyes alternated between bright flashes of light and thick darkness. Disoriented, she loosened her hold on his only remaining arm that was within her grasp. Her hand went immediately to the excruciating pain of the fall, desperately trying to regain her equilibrium. Just as she was confident she could open her eyes without an exploding twinge blasting the back of her head, she felt one of his boots come into contact with her ribs, knocking the wind out of her chest. His foot remained there, pinning her to the ground, at least until she could breathe without the room spinning around her. As she struggled to get up again, he opened the coat closet door. His eyes scanned up and down, as if searching. Then he began grabbing items from the top shelf, pulling them onto the floor. Umbrellas, old books from college, phone books, a shoebox full of photographs that had yet to find a home in any sort of album. Doing her best to turn her concussed head, shielding it from the falling objects that landed around her. Desperation to gain control of the situation came over her as she realized what he was searching for: something to bind her with.
Pulling a knife from his pocket, his voice became eerily soft, which unhinged Olivia. In a low growl, he hissed through his teeth, "Tell me where I can find a rope, or some tape." Olivia glared at him defiantly. Placing her hands on the floor at the back of her so she could push herself out from under his foot, she felt an object behind her that she realized may help her have some sort of defense. It was thick with a hard cover.
Tim leaned in closer, losing his patience. Bringing the knife nearer to her face, he threatened, "Now, lady."
She reached for the book blindly with her hand just as he noticed her actions. With one swift motion, he brought his weapon down, slicing her left arm with the sharp blade. Immediately, she lost her clutch on the book, covering the stinging wound with her right hand and was alarmed at the amount of wet blood she felt her shirt sleeve already absorbing.
"You bastard!" she snarled and that moment of hate was just what her body needed to surge forward, gripping the book off of the floor to swing it towards the back of his head. The blow sent him straight to the ground, landing him between her couch and coffee table.
"Arrrhhh," he groaned from bloodied lips. "You stupid b-", but before he could finish his sentence or push himself up off his knees, Olivia swung again twice, both times hitting him just above his left ear. After he fell limp, she grabbed her purse out from under the coffee table and quickly located her cell phone. Not seeing her cuffs anywhere, her police training kicked in and she knew she had to get away from him. As she stood, a wave if dizziness overcame her and she stumbled backwards, grabbing onto the arm of the couch with her left arm while she regained position. The regret she felt in using her wounded left arm for anything hit her hard and fast. Instantly her right hand was again applying pressure to the cut, which continued to bleed, adding to the trail of blood that led to her crimson-stained fingertips. Worried she might vomit, she tried to control her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Over and over her mind recited its instructions to her body.
Releasing her arm long enough to dial the three magic numbers, she held the phone between her shoulder and ear, stepping out into the hallway and leaning against the wall. Within seconds a calm voice spoke to her through the phone lines.
"9-1-1, what is your emergency please?"
"This—this is--…"
The bile began to make its way up her throat. It was too much to use more than one sensory at a time, so before she tried to speak again, Olivia slumped down onto the faded brown carpet, closing her eyes as tightly as she could.
"M-my name is Detective Olivia Bens--Benson with the Manhattan Special Victims Unit. Badge Num—…" Another deep breath and she could finish giving them the information they needed. All she had to do was breathe. Knowing she didn't have much time before she passed out, she decided to forgo the badge number and get straight to her address.
"I've been attacked," her vision became clouded. "I live—Houston Street…" she tried to suck in air as a feeling of weakness came over her. Why couldn't her mouth do what her brain was telling it to? Calm down. Focus. Breathe.
The concerned but composed voice of the emergency operator once again came across the earpiece. "Where do you live, honey? Detective Benson, I'm here. Just tell me the rest of your address and I will be able to send help quicker."
"310 Houston. I live at 310 Houston, 6G." Feeling more alone than she'd ever been, she longed for Elliot's presence and strength.
"Pls hry" was all the operator could make out. That was as far as Olivia could push herself before her breaths became shallower and the phone fell out of her hands. Feeling more alone than she'd ever been, darkness overtook her. Just as she slipped into unconsciousness, she heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance.