Part Twenty-Eight
He followed her as she went back in the bedroom, holding the gun and his steely glare on her while she sat down on the bed to pull on her boots. She wanted to kill him. She couldn't believe he was ruining what they'd just found. She couldn't believe he was cheapening what they'd done.
And she couldn't blame him for thinking it because she had tried to do exactly that the night they'd gotten there.
With her boots on and tied, she stood up, finished Elliot's work of shoving her clothes in her bag and zipping it shut. She turned around, looking at him. "You don't have to do this, El."
"The fuck I don't." He stepped back, out of the doorway, and nodded toward the living room. "Come on, get your coat."
She nodded, trying to think of how she could get through to him. As she moved past him, she stopped, holding his eyes. "Did you forget there's someone back in the city who wants to hurt me? Really hurt me? Not someone who thinks he hurt me and didn't, but someone who actually tried and nearly did and will probably try again?"
He looked away, telling Olivia that he hadn't really thought about that. He'd been too busy guilt-tripping himself. "Get your coat."
Pissed off at him for being obstinate, she did as instructed, putting on her coat and zipping it up. "How are you going to feel if that bastard comes back and attacks me?" The thought alone sent a shiver through her. Despite saying it, she hadn't really thought about it herself. She looked up from her pockets where she was searching for her gloves, only to discover that Elliot was gone.
He reappeared a moment later, the shiny steel of the handcuffs dangling from his fingers. "Can't forget these, can we?"
She resisted, just for the sake of it, when he grabbed her wrist. She concentrated on catching his eyes. "What if he rapes me, Elliot? Or kills me?"
He stopped moving, his hand gripping one of hers, his other hand just about to slap the cuff around it. He was hesitating. He'd never hesitated. She thought it was a good sign.
With her free hand, she reached for his chin, pulling his face up even with hers. "Don't do this. Don't take me back there where I'm not safe."
And then his eyes did meet hers, cold and hard and unrelenting. "You're hardly safe here."
She leaned into him, thinking the physical contact had been what had caused his hesitation, trying to prolong having a bit of control over him. "I've never been safer, El. I know that. You know that."
He winced, showing a painfully short and unhelpful bit of feeling. "More damage has been done to you in these last three days than you know. That's what I know."
She shook her head, bringing her hands to his waist. "I know you."
And then something snapped, something dark and dangerous in him. His hands moved quickly, so quickly she didn't know what was happening. One minute she was holding onto him. The next, her hands were locked behind her. His hands were on her coat, shoving her tripping backwards until the small of her back pressed against the kitchen counter.
He was leaning over her, his face, his eyes, full of fury and anger and hatred. "You like this? You want it rough?" His whole body pressed against her and she knew what he was trying.
She wasn't about to fall for it, so she turned away, trying to look bored. "I know you don't, so it's pointless to try and scare me."
He grabbed her arm, pulling her forward suddenly, shoving her toward the couch instead. "You don't know shit about what I like! You know what I did. You know I overpowered you and kidnapped you and drugged you and handcuffed you to a damn bed! You went to Cragen with evidence that I tried to rape you. What the fuck do you know about me besides that I'm holding you hostage?"
She tried to continue to look bored, but it was getting harder. Especially when he shoved her down, opting for the floor instead of the couch and moving to straddle her. Her hands were pinned behind her, the cuffs digging mercilessly into her back. And Elliot was unzipping her coat, throwing it open before leaning down into her face.
"Stop it, Elliot." She squirmed, trying to move her hands, trying to ignore that he was moving his along her sides.
"Oh, come on, Liv, either you like it or you don't." He was laughing, his eyes dancing like he'd proved some fucking point. "I thought you knew me so well, huh?" His arms moved to brace his weight over her, his face coming closer to hers. "Then you should know this is how I really want it."
She screamed, mostly out of frustration for wanting to slap him right across his obnoxious, grinning face. "The fuck you do." And she knew it was true, really, because there he was, pinning her helplessly to the ground and she could feel all too well that he wasn't the least bit interested in pursuing something sexual. He was just trying to prove a point.
But she wasn't about to let him prove it. She was pissed off at him too. So she stared up at him, knowing his eyes were searching hers for a plea for mercy, mercy which he would be all too happy to give her. Instead she smirked at him, knowing that she really hadn't ever been in less danger of a man forcing himself on her in her entire life. "Go ahead."
With an angry growl, Elliot was off her in a flash, roughly pulling her to her feet, causing more pain in her arms unlocking the cuffs than he had putting them on her. "You're a sick fuck. And it's all my fault."
She forced out a laugh, though she wasn't even the least bit amused. "Don't ever play poker, El. Seriously, you can't bluff."
And then he really was pissed off, she knew it, as he grabbed both of their bags and shoved her toward the van. "Don't go fucking running off this time. I might leave you here."
"Uh huh. Sure, cause you're so unconcerned with my welfare." She didn't give him the benefit of making a sound when he pushed her into the van.
"Just sit the fuck in your seat or I will put you in the back."
She watched as he climbed behind the wheel, tossing their bags carelessly over the seat. "Are you just going to leave Cragen's cabin like that? How fucking mad do you think he'll be?"
He glared at her. "Probably a little less mad than he'll be at me for kidnapping my partner, but maybe I'm wrong." He jerked the transmission lever into reverse and started the van rolling down the path he'd shoveled.
She glared right back. "Probably not, since he wanted you to bring me up here to keep me safe ten years ago."
Elliot threw the van back into park so fast she had to catch herself on the dashboard. "Stay here." And then he was stomping, it was clear from the amount of snow he was kicking up, back into the cabin.
He reappeared a few minutes later, a large bag of trash in his hand containing all the stuff from the kitchen. He stopped to throw it in the back door of the van before he went stomping back around the cabin. She knew he was shutting off the generator and she hated it. She'd kind of hoped that he'd take her in and rethink leaving if it meant cleaning up.
He went back in the front door, and she could imagine how he was setting the instructions back the way he'd found them. It made her long for that freezing cold night when he'd snuggled with her in front of the fire. Her anger was freshly renewed at him for ruining it when he closed the door behind him, juggling a can of soda and the fake rock he was putting the key in.
He finally got back in the van, his nose red from the cold. "Happy?"
She glared at him. "Oh, yeah, taking me back to be raped and murdered. I'm floored. Overjoyed. Ecstatic. Really."
He offered the soda to her, sitting it in the cup holder when she didn't take it immediately. Then he returned to backing the van the rest of the way to the street.
She was still furious, but she realized he wasn't going to listen to her snippy remarks. Reaching for his arm, she looked at him, deadly serious. "Please, El. Don't take me home yet. Not until it's safe."
He held her eyes for a long time, swallowing hard and looking away. "I can't, Liv. I can't do this to you. Maybe you'll understand that someday." He nodded at the soda. "If you don't drink that, I will, and it's the last you're going to get until we get home."
Out of fear that he wasn't joking and thirst from having not eaten or drank anything in almost twenty-four hours, she mutely reached for the can. He wasn't going to listen to her anyway. She sipped at the drink, staring at the beautiful scenery as it faded away to typical highway images. Soon enough, her head was heavy and she felt her eyes slipping closed.
But more than just sleepy, she felt foggy.
With all of her strength, she turned to look at Elliot. He took the can out of her hand and set it back in the cup holder. Then he winked at her.
"Night, Liv."
She looked at the can, realizing what he'd done, and wishing she'd seen it coming. "You bastard."
She could barely pull her eyes back to look at his profile as he replied. "You're easier to deal with when you're unconscious."
And before she could actually comprehend the words, her eyes closed in sleep.