Part Nineteen

She awoke in the darkness, unsure if it was a few minutes or a few hours later. As if the whole situation wasn't enough to drive her out of her mind, the quiet was adding to it. She wasn't afraid of the dark, hadn't been for a long, long time. But dark in New York City and dark in the fucking Adirondacks were two very different concepts. And the silence was unlike anything she'd ever experienced in her life. No matter how quiet her apartment got, there were always sirens and voices and city sounds, comforting her, assuring her that she wasn't alone.

The cabin was as quiet as a fucking tomb. She hadn't heard Elliot drive off, but she'd been sobbing so loudly, she knew she wouldn't have heard a fucking bomb drop in the next room. She strained her ears, holding her breath, trying to pick up the noise of another person breathing, living, in the cabin. But she couldn't hear anything. Except for the occasional gust of wind that made all sorts of disturbing sounds as it whipped through the woods.

He wouldn't have left her there. He couldn't have.

But he'd been pissed as fucking hell at her.

Shaking from the terror of having been left alone there to die because she'd pissed off her partner one too many times, she took a breath and tried to call him without sounding so fucking scared.

"Elliot?"

The only answer that came after a long interval was an odd, muffled thump. Elliot wasn't sneaking around, she knew that. He'd have no reason to. The only explanation was that he hadn't been lying about someone else being after her and that the someone had followed them, murdered Elliot, and was waiting out there to scare her to death.

"Elliot!"

The thump wasn't muffled the second time. In fact, it was terribly loud, sounding like half the fucking cabin had collapsed and she managed to panic once again, thinking a god damned bear was in the next room. But the curse that followed a moment later was decidedly human. And undeniably Elliot.

He threw the door open so hard she jumped, assuring her that he wasn't a bit less angry with her. "What the fuck do you want now? Room service?"

She was so relieved to see him that she forgot she hadn't had any particular reason to call him other than simply to know he was there. But seeing the ire that had yet to die, or perhaps had been rekindled by reminding him that she was still there, she didn't think it was wise to tell him the truth.

"I have to use the bathroom."

He sighed, glaring at her from the doorway, obviously trying to decide what to do with her. Finally, he approached her, stopping at the foot of the bed and starting to unlace her boot.

"What are you doing?"

He shrugged, working through one boot and tossing it on the floor before moving on to the other. "Just in case you get any bright fucking ideas about running off again. There's a couple fucking feet of snow out there. You aren't going anywhere without boots."

She hadn't thought about it. She'd been so fucking happy that he hadn't abandoned her. But, even without her boots, the idea had been born and was whispering taunts in her ear. Maybe she could hotwire the van before she froze to death. Maybe she could find another cabin in the area. Maybe he wouldn't bother chasing her again, at least leaving her to die peacefully and on her own terms in the fucking snow. She didn't say anything, letting him uncuff her and lead her to the other room.

He looked half asleep as she closed the door, his red rimmed eyes reminding her of all those run-ins when he'd been drinking. She went for the window immediately, knowing that time was of the essence. The wind was icy as she eased up the sash, causing her to shiver immediately. She looked outside, eyeing the snowdrift that had accumulated next to the cabin, realizing that she was going to have to dive into at least three feet of snow and ice.

The window was high, narrow and short, probably designed to allow for decency in the bathroom. Olivia put one foot on the toilet seat, hefting herself up onto the sill. She was determined not to go out head first, not into snow that deep, and had to contort her legs around, sliding them through the opening. Her hips were almost as wide as the window, forcing her to wiggle them back and forth. At least she knew that when he realized she was gone, he couldn't follow her. He'd never fit through the small window. It might buy her some extra time.

And suddenly, without a bit of warning, gravity woke up, grabbing hold of her body and yanking her down, her arms twisting sharply behind her as she fell. The fall stunned her, her feet already caked with snow, her body shivering as the snow surrounded her up to her shoulders, crystals of ice breaking loose and falling into her shirt. It was cold enough to freeze her brain, she thought, sitting there, too fucking cold already to move.

But adrenaline kicked in, warning her that Elliot was bound to check on her soon, knowing that she couldn't be sitting there in the snow like the frozen asshole she was starting to think she was. She pushed herself up to her already numb feet and waded through the deepest of the snow, aiming for the line of trees a few yards away. She didn't even know what she was doing, what she was aiming for, she only knew that she couldn't sit there, Elliot's docile, brainwashed prisoner, waiting for something to happen.

And if the fucker wasn't out of his mind, she knew, he would know that.

Olivia was tough and strong and she wasn't averse to causing herself physical discomfort in the short term if it meant saving herself in the long run. But she wasn't accustomed to wading through snow that was nearly up to her waist and she certainly didn't make a practice of wandering around outside without shoes. Although her feet were numb enough that she couldn't be sure her toes were still there, they fucking hurt. And every branch and twig and bit of ice dug into her frozen skin and hurt like a motherfucker. But she bit back any cries of pain that threatened to escape, knowing that every second was one second closer to Elliot figuring out that she was gone, unwilling to give up the second that her yelps might cost her.

As she hit the tree line, she remembered her utter fear when she'd thought she was alone. The moonlight reflecting off the snow had been enough to make her forget how very dark it would be. But the moment she crossed between the first two trees, the light disappeared, returning her to that hideous, darkness where the only sound besides her breathing was the crunching of snow under her bare feet.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" His voice was softer than she expected, causing her to realize that she'd made it a lot further than she thought she would have. He must have given her the benefit of the doubt, not peeking in on her when she claimed to need the bathroom, assuming she had the sense not to try to freeze her damn feet off.

But really, she told herself with a bit of quiet, hysterical laughter welling up, Elliot really should have known that sometimes she didn't have a god damn bit of sense in her head.

"I swear to god, Olivia, I might fucking strangle you when I find you!"

She wasn't at all convinced the threat was in jest. And she wasn't at all convinced he wouldn't get the opportunity to prove it because she'd left a painfully obvious path through the frozen over snow behind her. She knew she really had no chance of escape. She knew she never really had. But she couldn't give up, making her half numb legs keep propelling her forward.

She couldn't say that his strong arms were entirely unwelcome when he scooped her up, swinging her shaking, pliant body up out of the snow.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Rather than the anger she'd expected, he sounded concerned, scared.

She was shaking so hard she could barely speak, but she thought she had to. She needed to say something to explain herself to the man who'd run out into the snow after her, not any better dressed for the occasion himself. "I had to try." It was true. She was a fighter and she would fight until there wasn't a damn breath of life left inside of her. She just had to hope she wasn't fighting against her own best interests.

It was almost forever before she was back in front of the fire, cradled against Elliot's body, his soaked legs outside of hers, the skin of his bare feet as angry and red and undoubtedly painful as hers as the heat coaxed circulation back into them. He was shaking too, she could tell, simply because she knew she didn't have the strength in her body to shake that hard.

After a few minutes, he stood, bringing his bag from the couch, placing it next to her, and then joining her once again. She didn't fight when he lifted her wet, icy shirt over her head. She couldn't even tell whether it was colder without it. But he didn't make her wait long, pulling one of his long sleeved shirts over her head and then adding a sweatshirt. He shifted around, pushing her sideways and laying her back as he reached for the button of her pants. Some part of her wanted to argue, to rebuff him for having the audacity, but she was so very cold that she didn't care all that much. He pulled her jeans off her, throwing them aside. His hands felt like fire against her skin, and she cried out in pain from the sharp, hard way he was rubbing her legs. But she didn't fight, recognizing that sex was possibly the furthest thing from his mind. She couldn't have fought anyway, she knew, because she wasn't even able to help when he pulled a pair of his thick sweatpants up her body. She couldn't even feel it when he did the same to her feet, rubbing them harshly before putting socks on her.

He stood up again, and she thought he was going to do the same things for himself, to free himself of the cold, wet clothes he was wearing. Instead, she watched as he grabbed the flannel blanket they'd used earlier from the couch, wrapped it snuggly around her, and scooted her closer to the fire. It was only then that he undressed himself, not bothering to take the same care, simply pulling on dry clothes before folding his body around her.

His voice was broken, cracked and sad when he spoke in a hushed whisper. "You could have died out there, Olivia."

Her body was starting to warm, though she suspected the shivering would continue for a long, long time. She wanted to explain herself, knowing the reason for running didn't make any sense in light of the loving way he'd taken care of her. His care had been the polar opposite of the man who'd thrown her so roughly on the bed. She started to think that maybe there was something really wrong with him, not that he was trying to hurt her, but that sometimes he was someone else, someone she didn't know, someone he wouldn't recognize. She turned toward him, unable to meet his worried eyes.

"I want to go home. Please take me home."

His arms tightened around her, pulling her harder against his chest. "I can't do that."

It hurt to hear him say that because she'd dared to hope that this man, this version, was Elliot, her partner, the man who wouldn't deny her anything it was in his power to give her.

"Why not?"

His legs tightened around her too, reminding her that he was so much bigger than she. "Because someone tried to rape you and he's still out there."

She shivered, wanting to feel safe in Elliot's arms, wondering if he really didn't know he was the one who'd hurt her, hoping that she was wrong.