Part Thirteen
Hell, she could barely breathe with the way he'd clamped his hand over her mouth. She tried to fight, but he'd obviously planned the attack better than the first. He was behind her, his muscled arms locked tightly around her, making it impossible for her to move. One arm held her hips firmly against him; the other hand was latched across her mouth, forcing her head back, positioning his lips against her ear as he spoke words she was too upset to understand.
She whimpered, scared beyond fighting. He'd come back. After all that shit of him swearing he hadn't done it, looking her in the eye with tears, actual tears, running down his face, pleading with her, begging her to believe him. She'd known better, but it still seemed unbelievable. She'd nearly believed him after she couldn't find the thong. He'd been arraigned, ordered to stay away from her until his trial, and he certainly knew that violating the TRO would undoubtedly land him in jail for the duration of his trial, a trial which, after a second attack, would end with his guilt being proclaimed. But there was no fucking question anymore. No way for him to maintain his innocence. Not as long as she was alive. A thought that terrified her out of her mind because he could so easily change that.
She struggled, as well as she could while she was crying and fighting for enough air to fill her lungs. He wasn't stopping her from breathing, just from screaming, but the hysteria made her choke. A detached part of her mind wondered how his hand could remain so tight even with her tears soaking his skin.
A moment or an eternity later, she was pressed into the wall, pinning her legs which she hadn't realized were flailing. His hand didn't move from her mouth, even as he turned her face sideways to avoid smashing it into the wall. His body was pressed against hers and she waited to feel it, the way she had the first time, the unmistakable reaction of his body that foretold the horror of what he wanted, what he was willing to steal from her. She was too frightened to be shocked that he didn't react to the contact of her body writhing against his.
His mouth was at her ear again, whispering words that didn't calm her. "Stop it! God damn it, Olivia, stop fighting me!"
Her only thought was that she had to get away. She'd done it once; she needed to do it again. She wanted to scream, to draw attention to her situation. Her neighbors had noticed his presence the first time. She hoped they'd be kind enough to call the police when they heard her shrieking in fear again.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Liv." His voice, his strained whisper, so soft, so intimate at her ear, his lips brushing her skin, sent an inexplicable surge of heat through her and she cursed her treacherous body for responding to him. She wanted to close her eyes and forget. Forget that she felt anything for him. Forget that she'd ever craved his touch. Forget that he'd hurt her. Forget that he was hurting her all over again. Forget everything and slip away into a quiet, calm world where she was safe.
She tried to focus, to keep herself in the present, to look for an escape. She fought to keep her eyes open and not panic. He was talking to her, something he hadn't done the first time. A flicker of hope told her that perhaps he was afraid she'd get away again, that maybe he didn't want to overpower her after all.
The flicker was snuffed out by the inimitable pressure as his dick finally started to respond to her wiggling.
"Damn it, stop, Olivia! Stop moving!"
She felt his hand pushing against the small of her back, the full weight of him pressing into her as the warmth from his hips moved away. She tried to understand, to figure out why he was trying to make her be still, to determine why he was trying to hide his arousal. He'd wanted her to feel it the first time. He'd made sure she felt it. He'd moaned in pleasure as she'd struggled under him.
Even as his body stayed away from her, even as he still managed to keep her restrained with only the contact of his hands, his breath fell against her skin again. "Please, please, don't be scared of me." The contact of his forehead resting against the side of her face was unexpected enough to still her for a moment. "I won't hurt you, Liv. I promise you."
An idea came to her, giving her the only opportunity she figured she would get. He wanted her to give in. He wanted her to consent. She thought if she pretended to do so, he might let his guard down long enough for her to run. She forced her body to relax, unable to do anything about the adrenaline-induced tremors. She hoped he would fall for it. She hoped she could control herself. She hoped she could stay alive.
"That's better. It's just me. You don't have to be afraid." The hand on her back let up slowly, testing to see if she was going to run. She felt it leave her entirely and managed to keep herself still. He was still too close, still too tense for her to blow her chance. She couldn't make a run for it until he was further away.
He flipped the switch on the opposite wall, blinding her with the light. He was staring at her, watching her with his one hand still firmly pressed over her mouth. "Are you going to scream if I let go?"
She shook her head, unable to look at him. She knew her fear, her revulsion, her pain would be obvious to him. He was, or at least had been, her partner.
He leaned in, his face filling her sight. "Look at me." When she forced her eyes to his, his face was a mask, showing no emotion at all. "Are you going to scream if I let go?"
Screaming was out; that much was clear. If she lied, he'd know it and he'd know she was faking the smidgen of trust she'd shown him. She'd be back at square one. Taking a deep breath, she quickly dismissed the idea of screaming in favor of a new plan. She had to get him away from the door. As long as he was between her and the door, she wouldn't be going anywhere. She finally shook her head, honestly indicating that she would not scream. Not for the moment, at least.
He nodded, hesitation obvious as he searched her eyes. Finally, the tight grip on her mouth released, allowing her to draw in a full breath. It would have been the perfect chance to scream her lungs out, but as she watched, he drew her gun from her bag on the floor, knowing exactly where it was stashed. No point in screaming if she'd wind up dead.
He nodded toward the hallway. "Bedroom."
Oh, god, she was going to be sick right there. He wanted to fuck her on her own bed. Like they were making love. Like she wasn't being held at gunpoint.
"Now."
She swallowed back a sob, sniffling and wiping tears from her eyes, trying to keep herself collected enough to think. She had to think of something. Maybe she could ask him to use a condom, ask him to get one from the bathroom. She could make a run for it then. Or, if he forced her to get it, there were plenty of things in there that she could use as a weapon.
He kept the gun on her as he prodded her to the center of the room. Stepping back, feeling his way against the wall in the dark. "Where's the light?"
She sniffled, thinking she preferred the dark, scared that he was going to make her strip for him or something equally repulsive.
He found it without her help, flicking it on. He winced, anger showing on his face. "Jesus, Olivia, I said I wasn't going to hurt you."
Her eyes flickered to the gun instead of responding.
He shrugged. "I have to keep you from running somehow." His eyes left her for a moment, far too short a period for her to go anywhere. He pushed the closet door open, his hand reaching into it blindly. Annoyed, he glanced inside it, finding what he was looking for, grabbing a backpack from the shelf and throwing it on her bed. "Pick it up."
It beat a strip tease, so she did as she was told.
He used the gun to point at the dresser. "Pack some clothes."
"Why?" She didn't figure she needed clothing for what he planned to do with her.
"Because we're going on a little trip."
She was shaking as she stepped up to her dresser. Pulling open a couple drawers, she stuffed things in the bag without paying any attention to what they were. Her eyes were on her perfume bottles, sitting there in front of her mirror, wondering if they would pack enough of a punch to blind him long enough for her to get away. She remembered how she'd tried to protect him when he'd lost his sight, how she'd cradled him in her arms when Picard had thrust his head through the car window. It made her sick to her stomach. She'd cared about him. Really fucking cared. More than she'd ever cared about anyone. And he repaid her by trying to fucking rape her and jerking off in her panties. Fucker.
God fucking help him if she got that gun from him.
"Don't get any brilliant ideas, Liv. That's just going to piss me off." He caught her eye in the mirror, a smirk she would have called sexy days earlier crossing his lips. "And it won't deter me from protecting you, Olivia. No matter how fucking irritating you're being acting all scared of me and shit." He laughed for a moment, only serving to freak her out more. "I'm going to keep you safe if it's the last thing I do, just so I can tell you 'I told you so.'"
With the bag mostly full of random pieces of clothing she couldn't be sure even made one whole outfit. She turned around to face him. "What now?" She was scared and shaking, but the tears were drying on her face. Terror or no, she'd never been one for crying.
"Where are your gloves and boots?" He nodded at the leather jacket she was wearing. "And your fucking winter coat. There's a damn blizzard going on outside and you're dressed for fucking July."
She'd noticed the snow, but only because it was cold. She had forgotten about the winter storm. Her eyes locked on his. "Since you tried to rape me I haven't really been paying attention to the weather."
Still holding the gun on her, he reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. "It wasn't me, Olivia."
His hand was warm and soft and some part of her wanted to feel his caress. But she couldn't deny the facts, especially not the one that was her own weapon pointed squarely at her chest. With a shudder, she pulled away, turning her face to the side, feeling fresh tears spill down her face.
He growled, grabbing her shoulder and pushing her toward the doorway. "For the love of god, Olivia, how many times do I have to tell you I have no interest in causing you physical harm?" He pushed her back to the living room and then he inclined his head toward the couch. "Sit down for a minute."
It was the last thing she wanted to do. Sitting down was a weaker position, costing her more time if she tried to run, making it that much easier to overpower her simply by letting gravity work for him. But Elliot wasn't the most rational man on a good day and no one holding a gun liked arguments, so she did as she was told and sat on the edge of the couch, hoping not to piss him off any more than she already had by being scared.
She'd negotiated with crazy people. She'd negotiated with suicidal people. She'd negotiated guns off of her plenty of times. But she'd never faced her partner with her own weapon pointed at her. And she didn't expect the perfectly calm expression on his face because she'd never seen him get over anger so quickly. Her voice was shaky as she spoke, but she forced herself to say something, hoping that by talking she would delay what she assumed was likely inevitable – rape and, likely, death. Perhaps it would give her a chance to get away.
"What do you want?"
He looked at her, glared at her from his perch on the coffee table before her. "I told you already. I want to keep you safe and you've made that exceedingly difficult, Liv."
Her eyes darted down. She couldn't look at him. She couldn't deal with him. She still wanted to believe him, even though he was right there, without a ski mask this time, holding a gun on her.
Fuck, he still sounded like her partner.
Fuck, she still believed her partner.
"A restraining order? Did you really think that was necessary?" His voice was disbelieving.
She couldn't help but look at him, annoyance flashing in her eyes and voice. "I didn't know Greyleck was going to do that." She shook her head, wondering why she was even discussing it with someone who'd recently proven himself to be nuts. "Not like it made a difference."
"Sure it did. I had to sneak up the fire escape to avoid the detail out front." He sounded every bit as annoyed, as though she was going to care that he was inconvenienced. "And it's a bitch in the snow, but you'll find that out soon enough."
She glanced at him, remembering that no matter how he sounded, he was still a criminal, bent on hurting her and he was apparently holding her hostage, while the brilliant protective detail ordered by Cragen sat outside thinking she was tucked safe in her bed for the night. "What do you want from me?"
He snorted derisively at her, shaking her head like she was the one letting him down. "I want you to agree to pay the bills for the psychiatrist I'm going to wind up seeing because my partner doesn't trust me." He reached next to her, grabbing the roll of duct tape he must have brought with him, and tossed it in her lap. "Tear a piece off."
Her heart sank as she realized she hadn't fooled him by pretending to do as he wanted. The shaky quality returned to her voice. "Elliot, you don't have to do this." She blinked at the tears, but it did nothing to stop them.
There was a brief glimpse of something she wanted to label anguish as he watched her start to cry yet again, but it disappeared quickly. "Yes, I do." He pointed at the tape with her gun. "Tear off a piece."
She couldn't believe he was going to restrain her with tape. She somehow thought she would have been able to accept it if he'd simply outmaneuvered her and forced himself on her. And being tied up like that would only make her plan to escape harder. But it wasn't like she had a lot of options. She picked at the rough edge and pulled until she'd uncoiled a few inches.
"That's plenty."
While Olivia was sure no one thought their rapist made particularly logical choices, she still expected something different. As she sat there, working her nail through the thick tape to rip it free, Elliot moved forward. He shifted the gun to his right hand, holding it steady while his left reached for her hip. She cried out in shock, in anger, as his hand slid against her jeans, forgetting that she had promised not to scream, forgetting anything but the fact that he was actually going to rape her.
He shook his head as his hand felt along one hip and the top of that thigh before moving to the other side and doing the same. His face was only a few inches from hers and she couldn't ignore the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "See? That's why I need the tape. Cause you said you wouldn't scream and apparently, you're the one who can't be trusted."
She choked back another sound when his hand shifted behind her, cupping her ass. And she couldn't avoid his eyes when his face lit up in a smile. She thought she might actually throw up right then and there.
"You're so predictable, you know that, Liv?" He withdrew his hand, holding up a small tube, presenting her with her own lip balm, the one he'd just found in her pocket.
She wasn't sure what to think when he popped open the top and so sat stupidly motionless while he smeared an ample amount of the wax across her lips. She didn't even want to think about what he expected she'd need that sort of lubrication for. And before she could think about much else, he'd grabbed the tape from her hands, securing it across her mouth.
"It'll keep the tape from tearing your skin." He shrugged at her as he slipped the lip balm into his own pocket. "I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen. I'm going to protect you and I need to get you away from here to do that. I know you're not about to let me cart you out of here without screaming your head off. I'm out of options here, Liv, and hopefully you'll realize that someday." He reached around his back, producing handcuffs. "And I don't expect you're going to come with me without a fight, so I'm taking matters into my own hands."
She tried to keep her breathing under control, to keep the tears at bay, anything to keep her nose from getting stuffed up because then she wouldn't be able to breathe. But even without being able to speak, she had always been able to communicate with Elliot.
He looked down, with possibly some sort of remorse or guilt torturing his features. "Don't look at me like that. This is for your own good, Liv. You have to trust me." He stared at her, holding her eyes for a long time. "Or you'll be as messed up from this as I will be."
Unable to answer and unsure of what he was telling her, she didn't put up a fight when he yanked her to her feet. She let him pull her arms behind her, binding them with cuffs just tight enough that she wouldn't be able to get free.
"You didn't really think I was falling for your sudden change of heart about trying to fight me off when you came in, did you?" With a wink that made her shiver, he pushed her back onto the couch.
She was disappointed in herself for realizing he'd been playing her the whole time. He never would have been able to grab her gun and cuff her and gag her while she was fighting him. He'd expected her to do exactly what she did, knowing he'd be able to trick her into an even weaker position. And she still couldn't blame him. Because just as she'd refused the offers from everyone to make sure she got home safely, she'd brought it upon herself. She deserved what she got.
He left her on the couch for a moment, keeping the gun steady on her as he opened the closet by the door, easily finding the winter gear she kept there. He grabbed her boots and threw them by her feet before pulling her coat, hat and gloves out as well. Then he sat beside her, glaring at her while he linked one arm through her cuffed ones.
"Don't pull any shit with me. I'm a Marine, remember? I can have you unconscious in seconds and if you tempt me, I will." He stared at her, waiting for a response.
With wide, frightened eyes, she nodded.
He leaned forward, their joined arms forcing her to do the same, so he could pull her dress boots off her feet and replace them with the other pair. He didn't bother to tie them, shrugging his shoulders and saying that he thought it might make it harder for her to run off on him. He took the time to put her hat and gloves on her and pulled the coat around her shoulders, zipping up the front. He even tucked the empty sleeves into the pockets so as to confuse anyone who might see her, despite the fact that the duct tape across her mouth might clear matters up.
Satisfied that she was ready for whatever he was planning, he pulled her to her feet. "Now, are you going to walk with me or do I have to carry you?"
She didn't want his slimy hands on any more of her than was absolutely necessary and so she walked without a struggle next to him as he rushed her toward the fire escape. His arms wrapped tightly around her, sandwiching her between himself and the icy ladder leading to the alley. She was terrified, as much by plunging five stories to her death as by him.
"Please don't do anything stupid right now, Liv, or we're both going to end up dead." His mouth was next to her ear, his hot breath washing over her neck.
She whimpered, honestly unsure if it was from fear or something else. He put his feet on the first rung, nudging her to do the same. But her boots were a little big, something that wasn't a problem when they were tied, and her foot slipped forward, threatening both of their balances.
He changed tactics then, backing off the ladder, turning her around to face him, and then reaching under her coat. His hand felt its way around to her back, leaving her shaking and tingling in its wake. And then his arm was between hers, pushing up her coat so that he could grab the ladder behind her and hold her against him. She was terrified, because of him, because of his actions, because of her reactions to him, because of her utter helplessness.
He read it in her eyes, reaching for her face with his other hand, brushing her hair back, touching his forehead to hers. "You don't have to be afraid of me, Liv."
With no other choice, she squeezed her eyes closed and placed her trust in her partner. Either he kept her alive or he didn't. She didn't know which would be worse. And there wasn't anything she could do about it anyway.