DISCLAIMER: Olivia and Elliot aren't mine, even though I love them like they were. They belong to Dick Wolf. This story, however, is mine.
A/N: Sorry for the slight delay. Things are a little busy 'round here. I'm planning my wedding and my fiance and I are moving in two weeks. Needless to say, writing this story has been such a welcome refuge. Thank you all for reading. :) I hope you enjoy Chapter 7; this one is all Elliot. Never a bad thing. ;)
Elliot stood outside the Chicago Police Department, staring up at its glass and brick exterior. He didn't know why, but he was completely terrified. He hadn't seen her in so long…
After Captain Cragen told him that Olivia was pregnant, Elliot didn't know what to do. Cragen watched the color drain from Elliot's face and ordered him to take some time off. Elliot couldn't help but wonder if that was a signal to go to Chicago and bring her back to New York, to her family. He left the office, wondering what the hell he was going to do. He took the subway to his apartment and casually looked up flights online. Just in case, he thought to himself.
As he was browsing flights for that afternoon, a memory overcame him: Olivia, in his arms, watching Calvin struggling as a stranger's arms carried him down the hallway. He felt the life leave her body then, and she deflated right there against him despite how tightly he held her. He'd tried to bring her back, for two days he'd tried to no avail. Until that third day… that day she'd opened up to him so beautifully. Olivia never did that. She always guarded herself with the utmost diligence; she never let herself get close to anyone. She'd had a string of failed relationships, always putting her job before her personal life. Until Calvin… until Elliot.
He could almost feel her in his arms again and found himself clicking his mouse furiously, typing the numbers on his credit card into the online form and booking a ticket for that very morning. He'd arrive in Chicago at one. He grabbed a duffel bag, one suitable for carry-on. He couldn't waste any time with baggage check. He threw in some clothes and the essential toiletries, changed out of his suit and into jeans, a t-shirt and his leather jacket. The last was a recently acquired item… a fitting homage to Olivia. He was out the door before he'd even realized what he was doing.
And now here he was, standing in front of the place where she worked and debating on whether or not to go inside. He'd come all this way to see her, to find her and bring her home. To see if he could work this out… and, if he was being honest, to find out if this child Olivia was carrying was his.
He stood there, watching people go in and out of the building and wondering if any of them knew Olivia. Were any of them victims she'd helped? Colleagues she'd worked with? A partner whose life she'd saved?
The last thought hurt more than he'd expected. He was still her partner. In so many ways.
Taking a deep breath, Elliot forced one foot in front of the other and soon found himself in front of the doors. Like a robot, he grasped one of the handles and swung the door open, feeling the whoosh of air against his face as he stepped inside. It seemed as though that was his reality check, for as soon as he stepped inside, he began to feel frenzied, panicked, desperate.
No longer feeling like a machine, he hurried to the front desk and asked for Special Victims. He ran to the elevator and took it up, nearly exploding out of the doors when it came to the designated floor and running down the hall. He burst into the room and looked around for her, his eyes scanning each desk, each face, looking for the familiar glint of caramel hair and olive skin.
She wasn't there. Where was she? Where was she?
Someone, seeing the harried look on his face, approached and asked if she could help. Elliot, for a moment, was concerned he couldn't speak. Somehow, the air pushed its way out of his lungs. "Benson," he croaked. "I'm looking for Detective Benson." He hadn't said her name in so long.
The woman scrutinized him, clearly concerned that he was crazy. "Can I ask what this is in reference to?"
Elliot took a deep breath and closed his eyes, centering himself by picturing her face. He almost smiled. He was so close. He opened his eyes again and regarded the woman in front of him more calmly. "I'm Detective Stabler, New York Special Victims. I'm her partner." He realized what he'd said and quickly corrected himself, "Her former partner." It hurt him to say the words.
"Really?" the woman seemed skeptical. "She never mentioned you."
The words stung for a moment until he realized… he could barely say her name, too. Perhaps it was a sign… maybe she hadn't forgotten him. Maybe she was just as in love with him as he was with her.
Elliot quickly pulled out his badge and showed it to the cop, whose kind eyes truly wanted to help but needed the reassurance that Elliot wasn't there to harm her co-worker. She looked at his credentials and into his eyes once more before telling him news he didn't want to hear. "I… I took Olivia to the hospital a few hours ago."
"What? Why?" Elliot's heart began to race once more. "Is she okay? Tell me she's okay, please." He practically begged this woman.
"I don't know, actually. I had to come back here to work a case soon after I dropped her off…" The woman, seeing the Elliot was about to lose it, then spoke the magic words:
"Come on, I'll take you to her."
The police cruiser pulled up in the hospital entrance bay and as Elliot bolted from the car, the woman (he'd learned her name was Connie) called to him "Maternity ward, third floor!"
Elliot blazed through the wide automatic doors of the hospital and bolted for the bank of elevators, taking the first one to the maternity floor. He paused at the desk, waiting impatiently for the nurse to hang up the damn phone and pay attention to him. Couldn't she see it was an emergency? Couldn't she see he was about to come out of his skin?
She finally hung up the phone and, acknowledging his presence, turned and looked at him wordlessly. "Olivia Benson, please." In those three words, he begged the nurse for her information. The nurse, who had been irritated just seconds before, turned gentle and, putting her hand on his, told him her room number.
He nodded, his blue eyes thanking her profusely, and made his way down the hallway. His heart thudded in his chest at the thought of seeing her again, this woman he'd loved for so long. The procession down the corridor was slow, a wedding march, a funeral march. Two such conflicting emotions overpowered him: a deep and abiding love for her, his partner, his best friend, his lover; and an anger so profuse, so hot that it burned his veins.
Up until this moment, he'd thought of nothing but getting to her. But now… now that she was just moments away, the reality, the gravity of the situation in which he'd found himself truly set in.
She'd left him. She had possibly taken his unborn child with her. She had betrayed his trust in every way.
Yet he loved her still. He couldn't stop loving her. It was like the tide, ever constant, rolling in and rolling out, ebbing and flowing over all the different emotions that were coursing through his body. Yes, his love for her was an ocean, so vast and deep, so peaceful yet so capable of such incredible destruction.
He counted the numbers: 319, 321... Room 323… her room was next. He came to a stop in front of the window to room 325. The sterile white blinds, which should have been drawn and probably would have been if there were more activity in the room, were slightly open. He could see her form through the slats. Taking one more small step forward, he could finally see her face. Her eyes were closed… but she was radiant. Pregnancy agreed with her, certainly. Her cheeks were warm and glowing, her belly rounded in front of her, her hands protectively surrounded her unborn child.
Upon further inspection, Elliot saw that she was hooked up to a fetal monitor. Something was wrong with the baby. And Olivia was alone. She looked so fragile in that hospital bed, draped in a gown and a yellow blanket that looked so soft and warm and comforting.
What a paradox she was… Elliot had never known a stronger woman. He thought back to her time in New York and, simply put, Olivia was so badass. She could throw a perp up against the wall with such ferocity… it had been such a turn on for him once.
And yet, Olivia was far more breakable than most people. She'd never really known love… in fact, she and Love were practically strangers. And this made her so terribly vulnerable.
Elliot took a deep breath and took in the sight of the love of his life once more. Could he really do this? Could he go in there? Speak to her? Hold her hand? Would she hate him for taking advantage of her while she was in such a vulnerable state? Could they forgive each other their sins?
Treading lightly, so carefully, Elliot took a step forward.
And another.
And another.