Unknown Day

She thought she'd gotten to know terror pretty well. She'd come to terms with her fears – the fear of rats, the fear of being raped, even her fear of being abandoned.

Not that she really had much of a choice about it. She had no say in anything, not even in going to the bathroom, not anymore. She'd hit the button a hundred times, desperate for his attention. She missed him; she missed the contact.

She just didn't want to be alone.

Because it was a slap in the face. She'd complained all her life about being alone. She whined to anyone who would listen and ruminated on it when no one would. But she'd never truly learned the meaning of being alone – not until she faced so many hours in the dark, uncomfortable, lonely, fearing impending doom by rat.

Of course, it didn't make her feel better about her life prior to captivity to find out that she might not have been alone before, not when she was then.

There were noises. Terrible, terrible noises. Booms and bangs and crashes and shattering glass and muffled voices. It could have been a riot or a war or some out of control party. Whatever it was, it was horrible and close and it scared her. There were horrible, frightening people out there and she longed for the comforting embrace of her captor. She was afraid of what would happen if, when, they found her. She wanted the comfort of familiarity, her captor's face, her last constant that had been taken from her.

In sheer terror, she began pressing the buzzer. Over and over and over again. She knew he would answer. Because he wouldn't leave her alone. Because he'd promised her everything would be ok and things were not ok without him there to protect her. Without him, she was helpless. Without him, she would have to face the hideous noises all alone.

She pressed the buzzer until her fingers hurt.

And then she pressed it some more.

Day Two, cont'd

The pair barely got the door closed behind them before Cragen began to speak, inquiring exactly what he'd just stepped into. In their standard approach, their eyes met, Elliot, as the lesser involved of the two, allowed Olivia to call the shots. It was her personal matter; it was her call as to how much the boss found out.

With a deep, indignant voice, she offered a brief overview – Phil's association with her, Phil's mistaking her for a punching bag, her correction of his error. She left out the desperate midnight call and Elliot's insane attempt to break the land speed record. There was no mention of him sleeping on her couch, nor of her bonding with his son.

And naturally, there was no reference whatsoever to the fact that they'd been tangling tongues that morning.

Cragen nodded as he listened, his jaw clenching at the appropriate details, his smile of appreciation for Elliot's behavior. As wrong as it had been, Phil's had been worse and Cragen wouldn't have stood for it himself, had he known more at the time. With a promise from Olivia that she would try not to date anymore jerks, Cragen sent her on her way.

Her eyes met Elliot's, thanking him and apologizing for the reaming out she suspected he was about to get. He had just lost control rather loudly in public. She allowed her sleeve to brush his in the tiniest hint of reassurance she could offer on her way out. It was all she could do for the time being to thank him for the amazing show of support.

The stares of her coworkers were heavy as she returned to her seat. She tried to ignore the looks, the obvious questions, turning on her computer and checking her voicemail. But her eyes kept returning to the open blinds of Cragen's office. She watched her partner move from his position when she'd left to one of the chairs. And then, suddenly, he was up, crossing the office, looking out at her as he froze.

His face was a mixture of hurt and pain and anguish and loss and despair and confusion.

And he was looking right at her.

Before she could react to the almost palpable waves of emotion rolling off her partner, he'd turned, his surging stride carrying him back to face Cragen, his broad shoulders leaning forward over Cragen's desk in a threatening stance. She almost pitied the man, knowing all too well how intimidating an angry Elliot could be.

His voice was loud, enraged, but nothing more than the obvious displeasure could be heard. Munch dropped a file in front of her, pretending to have a legitimate reason for talking to her. "What's going on?"

Baffled, Olivia looked up at the sergeant and shrugged. "I don't have a clue. I mean, I figured he'd get chewed out, but-"

Fin joined in, his anxious stare passing between the suddenly standing, red-faced Cragen and the typically insubordinate Elliot. "But he knew he went too far. He shouldn't be that pissed off."

Olivia felt guilty, assuming the exchange was entirely due to Phil's appearance. Seeing that Elliot was returning, flinging his boss' door open so hard it ricocheted back at him, she ducked her head, pretending to search for something in her drawer. Fin and Munch immediately disappeared back to their desks.

Hearing nothing beyond the approaching footsteps that had stopped, Olivia dared to look up. He was waiting for her to do just that, his eyes full of venom and hate. "You planning on doing any work today at all?" He snatched the file up from his desk and grabbed the keys to the sedan. "Let's go, Benson, we have work to do."

She stood up, taking time to fiddle with adjusting her jacket to try to get information from her partner. "What the hell happened?" Her voice was lowered so that only he would hear her, expecting that his mood was sheer fury for something he would allow her to share.

He glared at her, as though he couldn't believe she dared to speak to him. "What the hell do you think happened? Your fucking knight in shining armor happened."

For a moment, she paused, honestly unsure as to which of the assholes best fit the description. The pissed off, irrational Elliot was back, replacing the man who'd kissed her so sweetly. She hated pissed off, irrational Elliot and she spat words back at him, mostly to cover how hurt she was that he'd turned on her so easily. "You decided to threaten someone's life with a room full of witnesses. That's not my fault."

He snorted at her, trying to intimidate her the way he had with Cragen by leaning into her space. "Well, someone had to handle it."

She refused to give in to the instinct to back up and stood her ground. "I was handling it without resorting to physical violence."

"Like you handled it last night?" He'd raised his voice, knowing he'd gotten the attention of anyone who hadn't already noticed their quiet, angry words.

She made a grab for the keys, not ready for another ride with Dale Junior quite so soon. "Fuck you."

He was her partner and therefore knew her tells, yanking the hand dangling the keys away just as she was about to make contact. "Why do I have to fight your battles for you?"

She started walking then, infuriated by his insinuation. "You don't have to fight my battles. I never asked you to." She was already moving and had a good couple of feet on him, giving her a chance to think. The argument felt so strangely familiar, she was sure they'd had it before. And one thing she'd learned with Elliot and his moods was that there was a certain amount of predictability in them. Although she never knew when something would set him off, he'd react to it the exact same way any time he chose to fight it. If she could remember when he'd last challenged her ability to defend herself, she'd remember what had caused it. And if she remembered what caused it, she might have a clue what the real problem was.

By the time she got to the elevators, it hit her, the familiarity sending cold shivers through her. No wonder it felt the same. It may as well have been the same scene. The only time he'd truly suggested that he had to protect her, in fact had screamed it at her in the bullpen, had been during the Gitano case. After her life had been threatened. After, Elliot would later explain, coyly and half-assed in the hallway of a hospital, some bastard had threatened something he needed, something he considered his.

She glared at him while he jabbed his finger at the button repeatedly, as though her press of it hadn't been effective. She didn't like possessiveness. Possessiveness led to jealousy. And jealously led to her bruised, swollen face. Stepping in front of him, she fixed her narrowed gaze on him. "Why don't you just piss on my leg? It'll be a little less obvious to everyone else."

He looked at her with an open mouth and wide eyes. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"I'm not your property." She pushed two other detectives out of the way in her haste to get on the damn elevator.

He followed, still staring at her like he didn't understand. "What?"

She was no man's property and she was going to settle it right then and there. She stepped into him again, meeting his eyes with only inches between their bodies. "I don't belong to you."

The elevator doors were closing and a hand reached out, sliding between them. As the officer stepped forward, Elliot boldly reached out, shoving the man back and turning to face her as the doors closed, leaving them alone.

And then she was pinned against the wall of the elevator, the metal handrail jabbing her ass, as his body pressed fully against hers for the second time that day. She shoved at him, her hands flat and useless against his chest. He grabbed her wrists, forcing them back beside her head, forcing her to bend slightly backward over the rail. His eyes were dark and dangerous when they met hers, his mouth mere centimeters from hers.

"You do fucking belong to me, Olivia." To illustrate his point, or perhaps because he couldn't control it, his hips thrust hard, once, against her, making her fight to hold back her moan at the unexpected pleasure that washed over her at the unwelcome contact. "You're mine."

He was gone, off of her, just as quickly, already striding down the hall before she realized the damn doors had opened. So fast she couldn't even be sure it had happened. It might have all been in her head, the product of the stressful night and morning. Her feet were unsteady as she raced to catch up, refusing to let him see how badly he'd thrown her, even though he certainly already knew it. He was in the car with his seat belt buckled, turning the ignition when she finally caught up.

Half afraid he'd leave her there, half afraid she'd never see him again if he did, she struggled to hook her own seat belt when he floored it into traffic. His hands were tight on the wheel, his jaw clenched so hard she could see the veins popping out on his forehead. All that, whatever it was, and she had no clue what it was over.

"What happened in there?" She fought to keep her voice even and thought she did an admirable job of it.

But when his ice cold stare turned on her at a red light, she wasn't sure she should have spoken. "What the fuck, Liv?" He gunned the engine in impatience with the traffic light. "You fucking call him on your way in?"

"What? What are you talking about?" She wasn't sure if he really thought she'd called Phil or if he was just trying to set her off again.

"What did you need to talk to him about this morning?" His furious gaze alternated between her and the cars in front of him. She much preferred it when he wasn't looking at her.

"Cragen?" Her voice cracked in disbelief. "Jesus, Elliot, I told you it wasn't about this morning." He stared to turn to face her again and she ducked down. Anything to avoid that anger. "I was going to have to tell him I left my badge and gun in Phil's car."

"Yeah, right." He jerked the wheel sharply to the left, causing her to slam into the door.

Shoving the purse she'd grabbed off her desk at him, she snarled. "See?" Fucking bastard had no right to call her a liar.

"You told him."

"Told him what?" She'd already covered that she hadn't told him about the kiss, so he had to be talking about something else. But his glare, accompanied by a hiss, assured her that he was hell bent on believing she was lying. "I didn't tell him anything about it."

"Yeah, you did."

"No, I didn't!" She hated that he'd gotten her so riled up that she was actually yelling. She hated that he was the only man who could ever get her that riled up. "Why would I?" She hated discussing something so personal and intimate with him when she had to keep her defenses up too.

"Because you love to kiss his ass."

She laughed. She couldn't help it. "I'm the last person on the planet to kiss anyone's ass." She figured the fact that she was even trying to fight with him while he was clearly beyond reason was a perfect example of that fact. She didn't sugar-coat shit for anyone.

He threw the car in park and turned sideways to stare at her. "Then you'd better report him for peeping in your windows."

The cold, distant sound of his voice hurt and she reached out, grabbing his arm in an attempt to reach the Elliot she knew. "Why would I tell him that?"

She must have gotten through, she realized, because he jerked away and looked out the window. "I don't know, but you did."

"Why do you keep saying that? I didn't fucking call him. I don't tell him shit unless I have to." She thought it best to keep her boss and her personal life as far away from each other as possible. "What did he say?"

He smirked, shaking his head with no humor. "What difference does it make? He knows. I didn't tell him. So you must have."

"Fine. Whatever." She reached into her bag, pulling her phone open and starting to dial Cragen's number.

He grabbed at her hand, slapping her phone closed when he saw the number. "What are you doing?"

She flipped the phone open and tried again. "I'm going to ask him what he said."

Once again he grabbed at her phone, his fingers clamping it shut painfully over her own. "Look, I shouldn't have kissed you and I'm sorry I did. It won't happen again, so let's just drop it."

A part of her that had dared to hope was crushed under the harsh weight of his words, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing it, not with the take-no-prisoners mood he was in. "Fine, if that's what you want."

"That's what I want." He nodded. "Let's just work this fucking case. When we get back to the station, you can have your little heart to heart with Cragen if you still want to."

When he climbed out of the car a moment later, she saw him triumphantly slip her phone into his pants pocket. He grinned at her, knowing that while she'd have no qualms reaching for his jacket pocket, she wouldn't dare even try with his pants. She didn't even care anymore how Cragen had found out. She was more upset that Elliot wouldn't believe her, wouldn't take her word for something, wouldn't fight for something he'd dared to start in the first place.

She sucked in a deep breath and tried to put herself back in detective mode as Elliot led the way into the school library where Natalie Miller had spent the afternoon before she was raped.