Epilogue

Over the next week, Olivia managed to fit the rest of the pieces together. Although no one knew what White's original plans had been, he'd run out of options that morning. Fred Clayton's credit card got declined when he tried to use it again, making him aware that they were closing in. Afraid of going back to prison before getting his revenge, he'd gone to the courthouse, probably knowing Olivia would be there for Elliot's hearing, apparently deciding that simply killing her was better than nothing. Elliot saw the gun first, shoving Olivia out of the way and getting hit in the process. Munch had been the lucky one to react to Elliot's shout first, landing two rounds in White's chest. Fin and Cragen had been a moment behind him, sending another three rounds through White's body. White was dead before Olivia and Elliot were done tumbling down the steps.

She'd spent two days in the hospital, suffering through evenings with Dennis and days with his minions. She got caught almost every time she tried to sneak up to Elliot's room, but, exactly as she'd expected, her repeated escape attempts helped convince the doctor that she was well enough to leave. She'd been getting further and further each time, the last time actually making it to Elliot's floor before she got sent back to her own room.

Once she was free, as free as the full length cast on her arm, a massive bruise that covered the entire side of her hip down to her knee, and being homeless allowed her to be. She voluntarily spent most of the next five days at the hospital, ironic considering her desperate attempts to leave, except that sneaking into Elliot's room and staying there until she was physically removed was her choice and not her doctor's.

Each day, Elliot's pain medicine was cut back a bit, until he was as crazy to leave as she had been. But rather than taking mercy on him and understanding he'd really had it with the gown and the nurses and the tyrants who kept throwing her out every night, she demanded he get better. His doctor told her on more than one occasion that Elliot had been terribly lucky and that a few inches either way would have certainly killed him. The words always made her stomach turn and her palms sweat.

Five days following her own release, a week from the day White had tried to kill her, Olivia found herself juggling the paper bag full of the cards and gag gifts and assorted crap that collects in a hospital room over the course of a week, a cumbersome plant of some sort that Kathy had sent her ex, and an array of Get Well Soon balloons his kids had delivered. She'd lobbied heavily for leaving the balloons or at least giving them to the pediatric floor, but Elliot insisted on keeping them because they'd been from his kids. She couldn't really argue with him, since they'd be cluttering up his apartment and because she was living there for lack of anywhere else to go.

Elliot was leaning heavily on her, his normal strength weakened by the recently patched hole in his side and a week of lying flat on his back.

But Olivia was so happy to have him home and safe and near her that she didn't mind, much, when he jostled her cast, sending shooting pains up and down her arm.

In keeping with his usual over-attentiveness to her, he noticed the grimace and kissed her cheek in apology. He held onto the stuff while she fished the key out of her jeans. She expected he'd be so thrilled to be home finally that he wouldn't have anything to say for the first hour at least, but two minutes after she'd pushed the door open, he plopped down on the couch, put his feet up on the coffee table and looked at her expectantly.

"What?" She was more flustered than she would have liked to admit with the way he was staring at her, which she was pretty sure was due to the fact that he'd finally noticed she hadn't been wearing a bra for a week.

His forehead furrowed while he looked for just the right words. "Is that my-uh," he paused to clear his throat, though it did nothing to change his husky voice, "my shirt?"

The t-shirt was huge on her and hung almost down to her knees, yet Elliot's eyes were locked right in the middle of her chest, which, she begrudgingly had to admit, appeared to enjoy his attention renewed attention. "What gave it away?" She pointed to the stitching above the pocket that read 'Stabler.' "Or was it the fact that it says 'Marine Corps' on the back?"

He shrugged, slowly pulling his eyes away to look anywhere but at her. "I just noticed."

She'd been wearing his shirts since she'd left the hospital. None of hers would have fit over her cast, even if she had been willing to salvage them from her apartment alone. Rolling her eyes, she sat down beside him, sliding herself into his side. "You try putting on a bra with one hand."

He grinned at her, the flush spreading from his cheeks down his neck at the idea of getting caught looking. "I'm not complaining." His fingers found their way to tangle in her hair as he leaned in for a kiss. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I'd be happy if you never wore one again."

She couldn't help but giggle. "Yeah, well, you might change your mind when my boobs hang down to my knees from not wearing one."

His arm tightened around her, squeezing her as tightly as their still battered bodies would allow. "Nope, not even then." His words were muffled as he turned toward her, his lips landing first on her cheek, then her chin, then her neck. "I swear, I'll never complain about you, not as long as you're willing to put up with me."

"So no more trying to send me to a psychiatrist for loving you?"

He chuckled, but returned his mouth to her skin. "I can still think you're crazy for it, but no, no more doctors. Please, no more doctors ever."

Happily claiming his lips with her own, she almost melted into him, until he shifted to get a better hold on her and bumped her arm. She sat back with a groan. "Damn it, El, that hurt."

He winced, offering another kiss on her cheek. "I know, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Giving up on any other ideas, tempting as they were, she rested her head against his chest. "Everything hurts. Taking a shower hurts. Sleeping hurts." She glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow. "And with the way you're holding your breath, I'm guessing you're hurting too."

He nodded unhappily, letting Olivia help him stretch out so there was no pressure on his side. "So I guess we'll have to wait, huh?"

Sighing in disappointment herself, she sat down on the floor in front of him, allowing him to rest his arm over her left. "Wonder what's on." She flipped through about a hundred channels before she looked back at him with a smirk. "Maybe we could both down a couple pain pills and go for it."

"Except we'd probably get halfway to the bedroom before we passed out."

She turned back to the TV, hoping another check of the possibilities would result in a better outcome.

"So, uh, Liv-"

The shy, hopeful tone left her to stare at him suspiciously. "What?"

"I guess that means you're not cooking, huh?"

She laughed at the thought. "After a week on hospital food you thought I'd whip up some culinary masterpiece, right?" She didn't wait for an answer before she handed him her phone. "Order a pizza and if you're good, I'll answer the door."

Despite his attempts to mask it, Elliot's growing discomfort became abundantly clear a few minutes after the pizza arrived. While Olivia had practically inhaled her first slice and half of her second, Elliot only picked at his. She didn't need to ask, knowing that if he was hurting too badly to eat he wouldn't argue. She fished through the bag they'd brought home, found his pills and dropped two into his palm.

His eyes were heavy a few minutes later and she turned to face him, only a few inches separating them while she held his eyes. "I'm really sorry, El, for not trusting you." Her voice choked up in her throat, guilt cutting off her words. He'd gone so far out of his way to protect her while she'd questioned his loyalty.

He moved his hands clumsily, finding her cheek and sliding his thumb across it. "It's not your fault." When she turned her head to kiss his palm, he smiled softly. "It's ok, Liv, really."

She nodded, pulling his hand from her face to squeeze it. "Get some rest. You're going to need all the energy you can muster up as soon as you're better." With a wink, she stood up and picked up the pizza box.

He chuckled as he settled back into the pillows. "You're going to make me work for it, huh?"

Smoothing a blanket over him, she nodded. "You did push me down the stairs and break my arm, you know."

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

He was already asleep by the time she leaned over to kiss him. But she kissed him anyway, loving the fact that she could. Then she put the pizza away and headed to sleep herself, more than happy to dream of the not-too-distant future when Elliot would be joining her.

***
Now that this is all finished (finally!), come visit my website! www(dot)jezykfic(dot)com/forum/