Olivia's eyes finally flicker open. She is aware that she's in a hospital and in a hell of a lot of pain. As always she begins to evaluate her situation. The where is covered. The why and who are as well. That prick De La Costa shot her. May he be burning in hell.
Olivia wiggles her toes, looks down without moving too much to see them cooperating. Thank God. No paralyzing injuries. She continues with her left arm just moving her fingers. Then she attempts movement with her right arm.
"Son of bitch," she yells, but only in her mind. In actuality she clenches her jaw tightly making a mental note not to try that again any time soon. The pain is so severe it brings tears to her eyes. That covers the what.
Olivia notices the I.V. in each arm and the two tubes sticking out of her right side. She's about to remove the oxygen mask herself when a short, pudgy forty-something nurse enters.
"Ah ah ahh," she says, stopping her. "Let me do that," she advises. "I just have to check a few things and we'll get that annoying thing off," she continues, giving Olivia a small smile.
Nick hasn't stirred.
The nurse whose name is Kelly according to the hospital ID, checks a couple of machines before turning the oxygen off and removing Olivia's mask.
"There that's better," Kelly tells her. "Would you like some water?"
Olivia nods and Kelly pours water into a cup from a pitcher sitting at her bedside table. She puts in a straw so that the detective can sip. After she's had her fill Olivia takes a deep breath.
"Oh God," she exclaims. This time Amaro does wake up.
"Liv you're conscious," says Nick. "What's wrong," he asks, concerned.
"On a scale of one to ten Olivia," asks Kelly. "Tell me what your pain level is right now."
"Fifty," she says, now taking quick shallow breaths.
"I figured that," Kelly tells her. "This will make things a bit better," she adds removing a syringe for her scrub jacket and injecting it into the I.V. in Olivia's left arm.
A few minutes later Olivia's breathing is less labored as the pain medication kicks in.
"How long will these tubes be sticking out of me," she asks after she's able to talk without pain.
"They'll come out in four or five days," Kelly advises her. "Maybe less if you're breathing improves," she concludes, turning to leave. "Hit your button if the pain becomes unbearable again. I'm on until morning."
"Thank you," Olivia tells her, as Kelly nods and leaves the two detectives alone again.
Nick shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He doesn't really know what to say to Olivia now that she's awake. He remembers she told him her former partner was murdered and how upset she was. Amaro knows how long they worked together, heard various rumors about their bond, but to see her so affected…
"I'm sorry," he says after a few moments of silence. "About all this and," he says, pausing. "About Elliot."
She doesn't want to tell him he's the reason she woke up. Olivia thought it was Elliot praying over her. She knew Nick was Catholic as well, but didn't think he was the "pray in public" type. Nodding is all the response she can muster without succumbing to tears. She doesn't know if she should be comparing the gun shot wound in her chest to how she feels about losing Elliot, but she does. The bullet hole is incomparable.
"How long have I been here," Olivia asks, noticing that it's nighttime outside her window.
"For about twenty-four hours," he informs her. "It's Friday night." That covers the when.
"Everyone's been here to see you," he tells her. "That visitor's log hardly had any room for my chicken scratch."
"So you didn't bring me these flowers and chocolates," she asks, with raised eyebrows and a smirk.
"Naw," he says, grinning. "Not me, you want me to read the cards."
"No, thanks," she tells him. "I'll get to them later."
"You'll be happy to know De La Costa's on Dr. Warner's table," Nick informs her. "It's too bad he didn't get to rot in prison for the rest of his life."
"I'm sure he's rotting somewhere a lot more hot and uncomfortable," she quips. "Thanks for that by the way. It's the second time you've saved my life."
"I'd say you're welcome but it wasn't me," he says, surprising her.
"What do you mean it wasn't you," she says, her tone slightly elevated. "You were there right after he fell to the ground, I'd just assumed…
"Wasn't me," he tells her earnestly.
"No one else was around so if it wasn't you who killed that prick then who?"
Just as the question is being posed, someone neither of them is expecting walks through the door.
"It was me," he says, coming to stand at the foot of Olivia's bed.
If firearms were allowed in the hospital Olivia would be telling Nick to shoot the son of a bitch.
"Amaro get this bastard out of my room," she says, getting visibly agitated.
Nick gets up ready to pounce on the man, though a fight between them would be an obvious mismatch. Max holds his arm out, stops Amaro and shows him his badge at the same time.
"Agent Aaron Jimenez," he informs them, revealing a little gold shield. "DEA. And you're welcome," he tells Olivia.
The man looks slightly less imposing donning a well-worn gray t-shirt, black jeans and matching biker boots. Nick is turning to sit back down in the guest chair when the agent stops him.
"Whoa there partner," he tells Nick. "Nurse Ratchett out there made me promise to send you out once I came in. They have a one visitor at a time policy she's really harping on," Jimenez informs him.
"You said what you had to say," Nick begins, nearly standing chest to chest with the man. "So why don't you leave."
"Because I'm pretty sure she's going to want to hear the rest of what I have to tell her," hints the agent.
Olivia watches as the two men eye each other angrily and decides to intervene. She's in no shape to even call someone if they began fighting, let alone break one up.
"It's okay Nick. I'll see you later," she says, effectively dismissing her partner.
"Are you sure," he asks, never taking his eyes off the man.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," she tells him.
Nick nods and leaves the two alone. Agent Jimenez takes the seat Amaro has vacated. He leans over to smell the flowers Alex has left and reaches for her chocolates.
"What the hell are you doing," she asks. "Keep your hands off my truffles and tell me why I just kicked my partner out."
"Two reasons," he begins. "I was under for eighteen months with De La Costa," he informs her. "I found out the location of his production sites, hidden bank accounts and where he kept the dirt he has on all his powerful friends."
"Good for you," she says with obvious sarcasm. "Why are you telling me all this."
"Once we hand that dirt over to the FBI, some important businessmen and politicians are going to be wearing prison orange," he explains. "I just wanted you to know all that you've gone through with this case wasn't for nothing."
"You mean you want me to think that Elliot didn't die for nothing," she seethes, unable to prevent the tears from pooling in her eyes. She wipes them away with her left hand before they can fall. "I'm sure that'll be of great comfort to his family."
"That brings me to the second reason I'm here."
"I don't care what it is," she interrupts. "I want you out of here. Now."
"You'll want to hear this and I'm not leaving until I tell you," he say defiantly. "It's too important."
"You've got three minutes and them I'm pressing this," she advises him, reaching for the Nurse Call button.
"I'll guarantee you won't be kicking me out when I'm done," he says, beginning his story.
Max drags Elliot's lifeless body through the kitchen and out of a side entrance. He then picks him up, throwing him into the backseat of his personal vehicle, a Chevy Tahoe.
The bodyguard drives outside of North Salem until trees and twinkling stars replace all the mansions and gated communities. He keeps looking at his watch then the rearview mirror like he's expecting something.
"Come on, come on," he says, continuing to try to focus on the road and the body he's driving around upstate New York simultaneously.
Max eyes his watch again before noticing movement from the backseat.
"Uhhh," Elliot says, groaning as he begins to stir.
Max looks into the rearview mirror to see him slowly regaining consciousness.
"What the hell is going on," he grunts.
"Congratulations O'Leary, or should I Stabler," says Max surprising Elliot at the use of his real name. "You're dead."
"Wh-what," he stumbles.
Elliot sits up fully, looking at the drying red spots that paint the front of his shirt.
"Luckily for you I made it look good," Max tells him. "And it was not easy," he continues, looking at the former detective in the rearview mirror sporadically while driving.
As the fog clears Elliot's mind he realizes something. He was shot…again. What's more is that the man who shot him was now talking to him like they were the best of pals.
"Who the hell are you," he asks, feeling the skin of his chest where bullet holes should be. All that's present is a ruined shirt and some purpling bruises where he was hit.
"The name's Aaron Jimenez," he responds. "DEA Agent, Aaron Jimenez," he reveals, emphasizing his title.
"What," he gasps. "You're a damned fed?"
"Yep," he answers smiling. "Been under for eighteen months. And luckily for you our mutual friend asked me to watch your six."
"Lucky, right," he murmurs. "My chest hurts like a bitch."
"You're welcome by the way," says Aaron. "It's my own invention. Squibs that create very believable blood splatter with potent tranquilizers attached."
"Wow," gasps Elliot. "You my friend are a real piece of work."
"Thank you, I majored in chemistry" he says, tongue in cheek. "I had just enough time to swap out real bullets for the squibs when De La Costa told me he heard you in his office, after coming down for a post coital snack."
"I've seen you seriously hurt at least three people," accuses Elliot. "You gonna' tell me all of them are still alive?"
"Yep," he repeats in almost childish way. It's weird to hear the tone coming from such an imposing man. "Had to give 'em some believable boo boos but all of them made it safely to Wit-Sec."
"I'm not going into witness protection," says Elliot, suddenly angry at the thought that he's being whisked away without getting to say goodbye to his kids…Olivia.
Thinking of her makes him think of the DVD he found in De La Costa's office. He feels inside his jacket pocket and realizes the disc is still there. He breathes a sigh of relief and hopes it's the only copy.
"Of course not," he says. "We're headed to a safe house upstate. Christian will just assume I've buried you somewhere or dropped you into the Hudson River."
"I need to check in with my kids," he tells the agent, noticing their surroundings. "How long am I supposed to be locked away up here," he asks with growing annoyance.
"Until after the deal with Benson is done," Aaron says astonishing him again with the use of his former partner's actual name. "She's helping us put the final nail in De La Costa's coffin."
"How the hell did she pass that paranoid asshole's background check," he asks climbing into the front seat then buckling in.
"Who do you think does the asshole's background checks," he reveals, smiling devilishly. "Someone did do a great job with her cover but the DEA pays for the best."
"You make sure nothing happens to her," Elliot orders, showing a fondness for his ex partner that he's never been good at hiding.
"She'll have your former squad and couple of our guys backing her up," Aaron informs him. "And Benson seems like she can handle herself," he says careful to keep his approving expression to himself.
"She can," Elliot agrees as he remembers all the times she's saved his ass. "She's a good cop," he adds trying to hide a proud smile.
They pull up to a small cabin, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Aaron and Elliot get out and walk the short distance over the gravel road to the front door.
The cabin has a small stone fireplace, fully stocked refrigerator, one bedroom, a bathroom and modest furniture throughout but no phone.
"You shouldn't be here past Friday," Aaron explains. "I'll be back for you then."
"You have my cell phone, there's no television and I have no one to talk to," complains Elliot. "What the hell am I supposed to do all week," he asks, with his arms crossed over his chest.
Aaron just points to a wall full of books that looks like it holds everything from Agatha Christie to H.G. Wells.
He tilts his head and smirks before responding with, "You're kidding?"
"Nope," the agents says, annoying Elliot to no end. "Gets cold up here at night too so feel free to chop some wood for the fireplace. Hell, go fishing if you want to. There are some clothes in the bedroom closet," he informs him. "They're mine so they may not fit well, but they're clean."
Elliot sits on a nearby sofa, having resolved himself to his circumstances. He sits in wide legged fashion with his hands clasped in front of him and his shoulders hunched forward.
"Your family is safe because De La Costa doesn't know you have one," Aaron informs him, trying to lessen his worry. "As for your um…friend…Benson," he continues, just as confused about their relationship as they are. "I'll try my best to keep her safe too."
"Thanks," Elliot replies looking the man in the eye. "I'd appreciate it."
He nods and turns leaving him with a shotgun and a box of shells to defend himself should he have any uninvited guests. Jimenez returns to the De La Costa mansion to continue his role as Max the bodyguard.
When he finishes his story Olivia has tears in her eyes and is nearly speechless. She has only one question.
"So…he's okay," she asks, trying to hide a voice breaking with emotion. It's not every day you hear that someone you thought was dead, isn't.
"Yep. He was held hostage to finish paperwork," he begins. "Then said something about having to check in with his kids."
"That's Elliot," she nods knowingly. But she still wants him there.
"Well I need to go," says Jimenez rising from the guest chair. "I have to find something to eat since someone doesn't want to share her chocolate," he tells her jokingly.
"Go ahead and take 'em," she begins. "You did save my life after all."
"It's okay," he responds. "I'm going to go find something with a bit more sustenance."
Agent Jimenez gets up to leave and pauses with his hand on the door.
"I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner," he tells her. "Stabler wanted to kick my ass when I told him you got shot. I'm glad you're going to be okay."
"I'm just happy you were there," she says. "Elliot's just being Elliot. Don't worry about him."
"Well he's plenty worried about you," he reveals. "I've never seen…you two…the way…
Olivia chuckles a bit. "Don't feel bad. We have trouble naming it too," she says before yawning.
Jimenez smiles. "Good. Then it's not just me," he responds, opening the door this time. "Take care of yourself Olivia."
"You too Aaron," she says before he leaves her.
Alone at last. Olivia can't help but smile at the fact that reports of Elliot's demise were greatly exaggerated. She wants to hold on because she's been doing nothing but sleeping. Still, the pain meds have her feeling wiped out.
Her eyes slip close of their own accord and before too long her breaths have evened out and she's back to dreamland.
An hour later he opens the door and lets it quietly close behind him. He gives himself a moment to take her in. He sees the tubes, the wires, the pallor of her skin and he wants to punch something. It's his natural response to a good deal of things, especially what he has no control over.
He moves to her bed picking up her hand on the uninjured side. Then he places his other hand next to her head. Elliot leans down and kisses both of her closed eyelids. In a gesture becoming familiar to them both, he rubs his beard against her face.
"Liv," he whispers with his lips right next to her ear.
She begins to stir.