Part Seventeen
The next thing she knew, Elliot was calling her name. She could feel his hand on her thigh and nearly panicked until she realized he was only shaking her. She tried to figure out why he needed to touch her leg and opened her eyes to glare unhappily at him.
But as soon as she looked, she understood that he couldn't reach anything else. She was slumped over, her head resting on his shoulder. Mortified that she'd done such a thing, even in her sleep, she jerked back upright in her seat.
"Hey, we're here."
Looking at the darkness, broken only by the snow's reflection of the pathetic bit of moonlight that shone through the clouds, she didn't know how he could tell "here" from anywhere else. In fact, she wasn't even sure how he'd managed to tell where the road was. She would have thanked her lucky stars they hadn't wound up dead in a ditch somewhere, except the jury was still out regarding whether or not death was better than whatever Elliot had in mind.
Because if that man was crazy enough to think Detective Olivia "City Slicker" Benson was sleeping in a fucking tent in the fucking mountains in a fucking blizzard with a fucking stalker, he had another thing coming. Her face revealed her lack of enthusiasm at the idea of leaving the relatively secure confines of the van.
He was laughing, tapping her shoulder, nodding toward his left side. "Don't panic yet."
Thankfully, she could vaguely see the shape of something that appeared to have walls. She automatically reached for the door handle to let herself out, but her cuffed wrists reminded her that nothing was up to her anymore. "Am I supposed to stay here?"
He was already out of the car, gathering things from the backseat. "It's up to you, Liv, but I imagine it's going to get pretty fucking cold out here without the keys, and don't think for one second, I'm going to trust you with them." He shut the door, moving around to the back of the van to gather her bag and the bags he'd picked up at the store. "You coming?"
Completely unconvinced on what was the better course of action, she unhooked her seatbelt and then joined Elliot as he walked toward the door. The cabin was bigger than she'd thought, actually appearing sturdy and well built. She watched quietly as Elliot set down the things he was carrying, kicking through the accumulation of snow that had certainly fallen prior to the current storm. Finally, his kicking revealed a massive pile of fist sized rocks.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" He squatted down, picking them up one at a time and shaking them.
If she was looking for evidence that the man was off his rocker, listening to rocks was pretty clear. "What are you doing?" They hadn't been out of the van for two minutes, but the cold wind was already biting through her clothes.
"Looking for the fake fucking rock with the god damned key in it."
Whoever owned the cabin, which she only knew wasn't Elliot, would probably not like the way Elliot was rearranging the rocks by chucking them over his shoulder without caring where they landed. But she didn't particularly care about the landscaping. And so long as he wasn't throwing rocks at her, she wasn't going to argue.
"Whose cabin is this?" She rubbed her hands together and tried to keep herself warm because her parka wasn't exactly doing a bang up job of it anymore. Of course, it was meant for the city, where there was always somewhere for her to duck into if she wanted to warm up. She'd bought it for warmth, of course, but the real selling point had been the simple fact that it was pretty, something she was starting to rethink.
"Cragen's." Elliot paused for a moment, looking up at her. "Maybe his wife's? Or a friend of hers? I don't remember. He told me about it a long time ago."
She'd always taken the boss to be as much of a city dweller as herself. "Can't really imagine him roughing it."
"He hid up out here after his wife died. Couldn't deal with being in their house, looking at all her stuff. But he said this place reminded him of the vacations they used to take and so he went back home and hasn't been back here since."
"Hasn't she been dead for twenty years?"
Elliot shrugged at her. "I don't know. Maybe. Had to be sometime before I met him, so yeah, probably about that. He was still drinking when she died."
She squatted down next to him, wincing at the dwindling pile of rocks. "If no one's been here in twenty years, how do you know there's still a key where he left it?"
"He used to loan the place to friends so he didn't have to pack it up and sell it. Doesn't look that run down to me, so maybe he still does." He reached out, picking up one rock that looked particularly smooth and round. As he shook it, there was a telltale rattle from inside.
"You don't even know if someone lives here?"
"If someone lives here and left the key outside, they deserve to have us crash the party." Despite his certainty, he moved slowly to fit the key into the lock. He pushed the door open, waiting for any sounds from within. "Hello? Anyone home?" Then he turned back to her, motioning for her to go inside while he collected the bags he'd dropped. "See? It's empty."
As soon as the door closed, it became immediately obvious why it was empty, at least to her. It was freezing inside, for some reason quite possibly colder than the outside had been. Shivering, she tucked her hands between her legs, trying to keep herself warm.
"Damn, it's cold in here." His voice sounded louder than normal in the pitch blackness. "I've got a flashlight in here somewhere."
She stood there, bent over and shaking. Her teeth started to chatter while he searched around for the light. Eventually, although she thought it was definitely after hypothermia had set in, a thin beam of light cut through the darkness, revealing dust particles dancing in the air.
"There are supposed to be instructions on how to start the generator in the kitchen. You want to come with me or wait here?"
She couldn't even stop her teeth from chattering as she spoke. "I want to wait in the van with the heat running."
There was pressure on her back for a brief moment as he patted her. "Just give me a minute. Once the generator's running, we'll have lights and heat."
Luckily, the kitchen appeared to only be a few feet away. Olivia watched the light beam move carefully over the surface of the countertop, the appliances, finally stopping on the refrigerator. She wanted to bitch that he really should have planned his foray into kidnapping better and point out that she wouldn't be any good for collecting ransom if she froze to death. Of course, when she thought about it, she didn't see how she'd be any good at all if his desire was ransom. It wasn't like there was a big ass family waiting for her, praying she was all right. Cragen and the guys at the precinct would be sad to hear that she was gone, but they weren't about to pay up. In fact, she realized, if there was anyone in the world who might actually consider, although undoubtedly be too broke in the long run, paying ransom, it was Elliot. She wondered if he was going to ask himself for the ransom.
The idea was absurd. Ridiculous. But she was freezing and about at the end of her rope, sanity-wise. She just started to laugh, thinking about even weirder possibilities. Maybe Elliot was going to hit up his split personality for the money. Maybe he had an evil twin. Maybe he thought he could get her to buy her own freedom. Maybe he thought they would just spend the rest of their lives growing their own food and hiding out from figments of his imagination in Cragen's abandoned cabin. She just stood there, shivering and shaking and laughing.
"I'm going outside to start the generator. Think you can hold yourself together while I'm gone?" He'd crossed back to her, blinding her with the flashlight.
Suddenly realizing what it meant to be a deer in the headlights, she stopped laughing. There wasn't a damn thing funny. It was no joke that Elliot really had kidnapped her and, since he wasn't any more mechanically inclined than she was, there was a very real chance they'd freeze to death together without a working generator.
But he hadn't waited for an answer, simply disappeared through the door, taking the light and whatever tiny bit of heat his body generated with him. Shivering harder, she stared blindly into the darkness, hating the eerie silence. Elliot was dangerous. But being without him felt just as dangerous.
There was a series of noises that followed, which she chalked up to Elliot finding his way to the generator that was undoubtedly covered with snow. Then there was a string of curses and horrible noises that she suspected constituted Elliot's response to the non-working generator. She wanted to be disappointed or sad or something that they really were about to freeze to death, but she was too fucking cold.
Elliot returned a few minutes later, dropping something heavy and loud just inside the door. "Ok, it's running."
She wanted to say something about him having beaten it into submission, but it wasn't worth expending the energy. She wasn't sure she could talk with the way her mouth was shaking.
"I just have to throw the breaker in the kitchen and we should be in business." His voice accompanied the flashlight beam back into the kitchen. The sound of whiny hinges and a snap were followed by the overhead light in the kitchen coming to life.
Somehow she'd thought lights would make it warmer, but she got the feeling it was a little too cold for that to have much effect.
He walked back to where she was standing, gathering up the snowy, icy wood he'd thrown at her feet. "I'll start a fire. That should help warm you up."
How the hell he was still able to move was beyond her. She guessed he was probably better dressed for the cold, having had some idea of where they were headed. Just watching him move, his body seemed a bit restricted and his legs, where they appeared beneath his coat, were thicker than normal. He was probably wearing long underwear under his clothes and she glared at him, hating that he'd been able to plan better.
Cragen, or whoever spent time there, had been thoughtful, leaving a small basket of newspaper shreds and twigs next to the fireplace, helping Elliot start a raging fire within minutes. As soon as it was going, Elliot returned to her side, guiding her toward it, pulling the flannel blanket from the couch and setting it down for her to sit on.
The fire felt wonderful, the heat warming her face. But she was still freezing and she recognized that it was going to be a long time, and possibly never, before the fire could possibly make the cabin comfortable.
She turned to Elliot, realizing that he'd actually sat down behind her in an attempt to help warm her. Some fucking kidnap victim she was, sitting there in her captor's arms, not even aware of it. Her disgust was in herself, but he saw it and thought otherwise.
He pulled back. "I'm sorry. I was just trying to help."
She might not have noticed when he'd offered his body heat, but she definitely noticed she he took it away. Truly worried about her own physical survival, she reached for him, trying to reassure him. "It's ok."
His eyes were narrowed, but he moved closer anyway, wrapping her back into his arms, his legs coming to rest outside of hers. "Think the bastard could have picked a worse time to fucking send us running? Fucking July would have been nice. Not that I really want anyone trying to hurt you and blame me ever, but still, this is really fucking inconsiderate."
She didn't bother to mention that he was the one responsible for all of it, the stalking, the running, hell, he wasn't to blame for the blizzard, but it was his fault it had any impact on them. "Can we wait in the van?"
He shook his head, tightening his arms around her, covering her gloved hands with his. "We don't have that much gas left. No place was open with the storm, so we need to conserve what we have. I'll go out in the morning and get some. I need to pick up some more food too."
Oh, dear god, she did not want to get stranded up there without any means of escape, even if she somehow convinced Elliot to take her home. She shivered, letting him think it was just from the cold. She didn't need any more cards stacked against her. If she managed to steal the van to go for help, she didn't want to have to worry about running out of gas too.
It felt like forever, but eventually, she was warm. Actually, she seemed to go right to hot, her body starting to sweat under all the layers. She shifted, trying to loosen Elliot's hold on her. Escaping wasn't on her mind, just breathing.
But Elliot's grip wasn't releasing, and his hands stayed linked around her. She turned to look, finding his eyes closed, his chin resting on her shoulder. She actually felt bad waking him, until she thought about the fact that she needed him to unlock her hands in order for her to take off her coat. The bastard.
She jabbed her elbow backwards, feeling him jerk awake as he fell back, not awake enough to keep his head from knocking into the floor.
"Ow, shit! What was that?"
Feigning sleepiness, Olivia blinked at him slowly. "Huh?"
He sat up, rubbing the back of his head. "Damn, it got hot in here, didn't it?" His eyes locked on her face, almost inspecting her. Then a rueful smile crossed his lips. "You did that on purpose."
"Did what?" Her heart was pounding so loud she thought he might hear it. She didn't want to know how bad his mood would turn if he thought she was trying to hurt him.
"You're all sweaty, Liv. You were hot and you wanted to wake me up." He dug into his pocket, pulling a small key out. "You could have just asked, you know. You didn't need to go for the ribs."
He unlocked the cuff around one wrist, allowing her to take off her coat, while he shed his as well. He watched as she pushed it aside, her skin crawling with the idea that he was going to watch her do everything. But when she glanced at him, there was nothing creepy about his stare. He looked tired, exhausted. It had to be the middle of the night, she realized, and he'd been up all that time, driving while she was sleeping.
"You ok now? Can I go back to sleep?"
She nodded, hoping he was tired enough that he wouldn't remember to reattach the cuffs. Then she could cuff him and find where he'd stashed her gun and take control of the situation.
"Good night." He stretched out beside her, using her parka as a pillow and his own as a blanket.
And just when she started counting her chickens, she felt his fingers lace through hers, his other hand coming up to lock the dangling cuff around his wrist, securing them together. With a silent snarl she knew he couldn't see through his closed eyes, she stretched out next to him for lack of any other options. As he drifted back to sleep, he rolled onto his side, his free arm wrapping around her waist holding her close as though the steel linking them might not be strong enough.
Thoroughly irritated, she imagined smacking him across the face, knowing that was the closest she could come to the real deal. As she lay there, wide awake and resenting the comforting, protecting presence of his arm around her, she thought of something. The evidence spoke for itself, clearly placing the stalking incidents on him. Perhaps, with whatever had happened with his marriage, Elliot needed someone to protect. Maybe he was missing that part of him that crawled into bed and snuggled with his wife. Twisted as all hell, she realized, maybe Elliot had set up the whole scenario just so that he could comfort her, so that she could cling to him and let him take care of her.
Maybe he hadn't actually intended to hurt her. He'd just wanted to scare her into his arms. He liked protecting things.
She turned over, rolling from her back to her side to face him. He was asleep, making up for those hours of driving in the snow, having reached his goal of getting her to the cabin where he could keep her safe. He didn't want to hurt her or rape her. He wanted her to need him.
Maybe, she thought, he wanted her to love him.
Maybe if she did, or seemed to, he'd let her go.
Maybe he really didn't have any fucking clue she always had.
Swallowing hard, she made a decision. She was attracted to him, some part of her wanted him still, despite everything. And if it would save her life, save her from eventually being raped, it was worth it.
She closed her eyes, nuzzling her face into his neck, letting her lips press against his skin. He wasn't that deeply asleep, his hitched breathing and groan giving away that he felt her movements, that he appreciated them. She moved her free hand, sliding it over his shirt, across his chest, then around his waist, following as she pushed him onto his back.
He was eager to cooperate, his hand moving against her waist as he turned to kiss her. It hadn't taken much effort at all to entice him, making her firmly believe her conclusion was right.