Unknown Day

In her time, she'd done plenty of stupid things. Really, phenomenally idiotic things. Most of them she'd half expected to end in her death when she'd done them.

But she wasn't quite sure that anything even came close to the level she'd reached when she found herself fighting steel and concrete, forcing her body forward as far as she could, yanking her wrists and shoulders painfully, thinking she was going to win in a battle of wills against her own fucking handcuffs.

Unperturbed by impossibility, she continued to strain with all of her might.

Her thoughts settled on Elliot, thinking about his pure, masculine strength, thinking of his uncontrollable rage. He'd be able to pull himself free. The handcuffs would open and crawl away in fear of what Elliot's hostility would do to them. He'd undoubtedly rip the ring right out of the damn wall before he'd accept defeat.

Just the thought of him, let alone the thought of how easily he would succeed, sent an explosion of wrath through her body. The answering adrenaline rush allowed her to push herself forward a little further.

Rather than the freedom Elliot would have found in that moment, Olivia heard her shoulder pop. Her reaction was delayed slightly, allowing her the hideous millisecond to know what was coming before the pain actually set in.

Hot, intense, and merciless.

She found humor in it, in the momentary thought that the same words she'd use to describe how Elliot had fucked her could just as perfectly be applied to how she'd fucked her shoulder.

She didn't think it for long, however, because the pain quickly eclipsed any coherent thoughts.

Day Three, cont'd

They stayed there, a tangle of limbs and heat and passion, neither one willing or able to move. His arms were locked around her middle, keeping her arms squeezed against her sides. Her fingers were wrapped around his biceps again, although she was tracing rather than ripping the bloody trails she'd carved in his flesh.

She'd tried to run the New York Marathon once. She'd been twenty-three, in the best shape of her life, and pretty damn sure she could do anything if she really tried. She'd trained and practiced tirelessly. At mile twenty-one, she'd realized that a marathon was a long fucking way. At mile twenty-two, she'd burned through the high-carb diet she'd been on for two months, the endorphins that had comforted her for a few miles, and even her steadfuckingfast will to finish. At mile twenty-three, she'd fully grasped the principle of inertia in that her body continued to move simply because it would seem to require too much work to stop. At mile twenty-four, her muscles began to shake, violent shivers tearing through her thin frame.

She never saw mile twenty-five because she collapsed halfway there and had to be carted off by the paramedics.

And sitting there, having fallen into Elliot in much the same fashion, she remembered and recognized the intense shockwaves that continued to roll through her. There was nothing in the world that could compare with the helplessness that accompanied complete physical exhaustion.

Her head was laying back against him, watching through half-closed eyes as his mouth worked for air and his chest heaved in pants. Exhausted, embarrassed, sore, fuck, she didn't know how to define how she felt, except that it was the best she'd ever felt in her entire fucking life. She wanted to stay there, in some crazy half-assed artistic interpretation of snuggling.

But his arms released her, slowly running over hers as his hands retreated to her shoulders. He squeezed them, leaning forward to press his lips into her hair. "Someone's going to come looking for us."

"Mmmmpphhhh." She was beyond words. It took too much energy to speak. She forced her hands to move, dropping onto the fabric of his pants, to let him know she was conscious, if unable to chat.

His hands moved, pushing her forward gently as he tried to disentangle them. "Seriously, babe, if no one heard you screaming, I'm going to suggest everyone get new batteries for their hearing aids."

She wanted to laugh, but she couldn't. Not when she realized she could feel his attempts to get free quite well. Not when she realized her partner's dick was still very much inside of her battered body. She wanted to squeeze him, to shift and wiggle and entice him for another, considerably more gentle, round. But her body just wouldn't cooperate.

And then he was gone, pulling out of her, away from her, leaving her ass to hit the cold tile floor with no warning. "Get up, Liv. Someone's bound to walk in here." She watched, stunned, as he walked over to the sink, tucking himself into his pants and zipping up as he went. She couldn't believe anything anymore. He hadn't even unbuckled his belt to fuck her. Hell, his shirt hadn't even come untucked.

She managed to pull herself to her feet, struggling to find her balance with her pants still wrapped around her thighs. Her cheeks burned as she realized that whatever she thought had happened between them hadn't. He hadn't undressed her and made love to her. He hadn't even hastily ripped off her clothes and had sex with her. No, he'd fucked her, fully clothed and half willing, painfully taking what he wanted from her body.

In that moment, she completely understood how a woman could be so remorseful after sex that she could actually claim that it had been rape, that there had been no consent. Because she'd consented to have sex with him, but she'd never consented to him fucking her like that. She felt gross. She felt dirty.

Elliot splashed water on his face and then dried his face and hands before he carefully unrolled the sleeves of his dress shirt to hide the bloody scratches she'd given him. She hoped they'd get infected as she pulled her pants up, wincing at the harsh, painful pressure of the fabric on her crotch. She wasn't even sure how she'd be able to walk, not with the distinctly personal soreness between her legs.

It would have been ok, even the way they'd gone at it like animals, if only he'd offered her something in the way of comfort, something more than the embrace that only lasted long enough for him to collect himself, something more than the kiss he'd pressed into her hair that didn't seem nearly so meaningful two minutes later. She sank onto the mattress, wincing as the movement hurt her delicate skin. But she needed to put her shoes on and she knew she didn't have the strength to balance on one foot while she yanked them on.

By the time she got one shoe on, Elliot had crossed the room and thrown open the two windows, clearly sensible enough to make the attempt to hide what they'd been doing in there. By the time she got the second shoe on, he was back at the sink, soaking one paper towel, and tearing a dry one off the roll.

She wanted to run when he approached her, but she either didn't have the strength or the shock was setting in. He sat down on the bunk next to her, his hand cradling her chin as he pressed the wet towel to her lip. She hadn't even realized it was still bleeding, but suddenly her stomach lurched, understanding her lip was bleeding from where he'd bitten her. She wanted to shove him away and take a shower. She wanted a swig of Listerine more than she wanted her next breath.

He set the wet one down, using the dry one to dab at her lip. Apparently content with the result, he dropped the second paper towel and moved on, running the fingers of both hands through her hair, calming the disarray he'd caused. She would have stopped him or done it herself, but she couldn't remember how to speak or move. So she sat there, confused and sad and hurt, while he fixed her hair.

Finally, one of his hands dropped as the other tucked one last strand back behind her ear. His eyes, which she'd noticed had been compulsively moving around, locked on hers. There was a slight quirk of his lips into a smile. "Come on, Liv. Wake up."

She stared back at him, unsure how he could be so fucking ok after what had just happened. Her chin trembled, tears suddenly welling. From such a close position, he didn't miss it, his thumb moving quickly to swipe away the few tears that fell.

"Don't, baby."

Her face contorted involuntarily; her voice came out choked. "Don't? Don't what?" She hurt. Her body fucking hurt because he'd just ridden her like some fucking cheap whore. And to make it worse, she could feel his fluids soaking through her panties, into her pants. A fat lot of good opening the windows was going to do with the scent of sex wafting off her body.

He sighed, shaking his head and standing up to throw the paper towels in the trash. "Not here, damn it."

She found the strength to stand out of sheer indignation. "Not here?" A cold, bitter laugh fell out of her mouth. "Why the fuck not?"

Suddenly paranoid, he glanced at the door before he approached her, reaching for her until she jerked back. "Liv, come on, this is not the place."

She snorted again. "Right, maybe we should discuss it in the bullpen. This is a little to private for something so personal."

They squared off, their irritated stances so familiar, yet so uncomfortably new under the circumstances. Olivia wasn't one for discussions in general, rarely about feelings, definitely not regarding relationships. But she felt that the situation warranted something spoken, spelled out definitively.

Elliot sighed, dropping his hands from his hips, leaning against the wall beside her. "Look, we need to talk about this. I know that." He closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them again, he could only stare at the ground. "Believe me, I'm well aware of that. But one thing I know is that it shouldn't have happened here and while we can't do anything about it, we can certainly table the discussion of it until later."

She nodded, pretending she was agreeing while she processed his words. He was dodging. She was sure of it. He wanted to get out of the crib, back to the bullpen where he knew she wouldn't dare bring it up. Stepping closer, she met his reluctant eyes. "If you walk away from me right now, there's nothing to talk about." She didn't believe in ultimatums, but she didn't believe in being strung along by someone who had no intention of ever getting back to the topic either.

His hands reached for her, lightly dancing over her hair, her shoulders, her hands, then settling at her waist. Holding her still, he stepped forward and let his lips make contact with her forehead. "Liv, please, think about this." He cocked his head to the side, appealing to her with his eyes. "We just need to get the hell out of here. Let's get dinner or a drink or just go home, something, I don't know, Liv, I'm not trying to avoid it. I just can't discuss this here now."

She melted into his touch, letting her body sag into his the slightest bit. "I can't, El. I just- we can't." Her body was burning from his touch, not just because of the recent memory of what he could make her feel, but also because of the embarrassment. She couldn't even decide which was worse – that he'd seen her with her fingers inside herself while she moaned his name or that he'd damn near forcibly used her body for his pleasure and had seen her quite thoroughly enjoying it.

Suddenly discussing it seemed the worst idea ever; perhaps letting him run away from it was the answer. He could run away and pretend it had never happened and she would pretend it hadn't happened long enough to walk past his desk. She couldn't fathom coming back to work with him in the morning, changing clothes at her locker on occasion, catching a desperately needed catnap on the bunks. The air seemed to thicken around her, choking her at the thought that she might someday actually bump into Elliot in the room.

She shook her head, staving off a plea he wasn't making. "Why don't you go ahead? It'll look funny if we show up at the same time. I'll be down in a minute." Her lips were curved in a natural smile, as close to one as she could conjure up, and she looked up at her partner, an action so well ingrained in her mind and body that she almost found comfort in it.

Except that when she looked up, she realized he was closer than he usually was. Which promptly reminded her that he was still holding her, his arms snug against her back, his front still supporting her. She had to consciously force her hands up from where they rested lightly on his arms, forcing herself to push as the rock hard plane of his chest.

He wasn't supposed to be holding her, not when she was pretty sure she was walking away from him for good, not after he'd thoughtlessly ripped her body in the most sensitive of places. Continuing to shake her head, she applied a bit more pressure, albeit weak pressure given the spent condition of her muscles. "No, El, just-"

He stopped her from speaking, stealing the air from her body by pressing his mouth to hers. The man who'd been so callous and unfeeling during the most intimate of acts was gone; the man whose lips were gently massaging hers was her partner. The Elliot she knew so well, the Elliot she'd fallen so hard for, the Elliot she loved so desperately, her Elliot, was back. His lips were soft and sweet and tender, suckling on her top lip, carefully not causing further injury to her bottom one. He tasted her slowly, methodically letting his tongue move over every bit of her lips before softly tracing the crease between them, seeking permission to enter her body in a way he hadn't bothered the first time.

There wasn't even the slightest chance of her resisting his advance. Her mouth fell open, granting his request and allowing a sigh to escape at the same time. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue across hers, exploring her mouth the same way he'd investigated her lips. She didn't know how to reconcile Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. But she didn't really have a chance to think about it, not with the way his attentions rendered her putty in his hands. As opposed to the man she'd just let fuck her, Olivia wasn't at all ashamed in front of the man kissing her. His love for her was so undeniably pure that she knew he accepted her, all of her, everything she did and said and was and felt. Because he was so willing to receive her, she couldn't even regret how eager she'd been for his touch or how quickly she'd found release with his encouragement.

She was willing to do it all again, knowing that he'd be much more careful the second time, certain that he would never let himself cause her more physical pain.

But rather than pulling at her clothes, rather than moving to undress her, he withdrew, his hands retreating to rest lightly at her waist, his mouth moving to graze her forehead. Her hands were still flush against his chest and she could feel the way he hesitated, the way he shook slightly. His hands moved up to her face, caressing her neck as he pulled back.

It made her heart soar to watch him in that instant, to see his cheeks blush red, to realize that he was embarrassed. Not because of the way they'd fucked, no, for the tough persona that Elliot opted to display most of the time that violence and physical need was normal, acceptable. It was the loving kiss way he'd kissed her, the tenderness of which displayed such vulnerability, that had humiliated him. Somehow she knew it was due to his fear of her rejection, that he thought she, a woman who was the embodiment of strength and fortitude, might lose respect for him for being soft.

She didn't know how to reassure him, as uncertain of their changing roles as he was. She smiled at him, moving her hands to his wrists and slowly stroking them down his forearms. She'd always trusted him and she didn't see any reason to stop simply because they'd given into feelings she'd been well aware were simmering under the surface from the day they'd been introduced.

He smiled back, accepting her unspoken support. His hands dropped back to his sides and he took a step toward the door. "Yeah, so, we'll, uh-"

She nodded. "Later."

He nodded back, reaching toward her once more, the knuckles of his right hand barely brushing across her cheek. "Definitely." He left then, taking his intoxicating scent and commanding presence with him.

The crib felt painfully empty as she sat down on the bed, mindful of the delicious soreness between her legs. She would be nervous, terribly so, to walk out at Elliot's side, heading for dinner or Mulligan's or her apartment, knowing she was about to have the most meaningful, most important, most life-altering discussion of her life. Frightening as the idea was, she knew there was nothing to worry about. Elliot loved her; she'd never been more convinced of anything in her life.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her rattled nerves. After a few minutes, she stood up and followed Elliot's path to the bullpen. All in all, she thought she was doing a rather admirable job of keeping the smug grin off her face on the way to her desk.

But then the desire to smile disappeared. Standing there, infringing rather flagrantly on Elliot's personal space, was Dani Beck.

Olivia was quite sure she was going to be sick.

Some nod to dignity, preposterous considering that she'd just been fucked in such a way that proved she had no dignity whatsoever, demanded that she not slap, shoot, or castrate anyone. She didn't even scream. She walked over to her desk, ignoring the way the blonde smiled and flirted with Elliot, refusing to admit that Elliot was eating it up, turning a blind eye to the hand Dani had placed ever-so-obviously on Elliot's forearm. Grabbing her jacket from the back of her chair, she prayed that Dani's delicate touch hurt the torn skin on her partner's arm.

She heard Elliot's voice, realizing he was introducing her to Dani. The urge to vomit returned and it took everything she had to not give in. Instead, she steadfastly met Dani's startled eyes, smiling smugly when Dani reported to Elliot that they'd met once before, snarling when Dani pointed out that Olivia hadn't revealed her name in the exchange.

Olivia glared at the couple, unsure how perfection had turned into the fucking nightmare from hell in less than two minutes. Her eyes met Elliot's, her shock and pain and anger blocking anything he might have tried to show her. She wanted to say something to him. She could feel the weight of everyone's eyes burning into her and it only made her want to speak more. She needed to think of something brilliant. Snarky and clever and cruel, yet subtle. But it was hard to think past the pain of her broken heart.

Elliot nodded toward Olivia's leather coat, clutched tightly in her hand, and smiled at her. "Ready to go?"

Her eyes widened momentarily. There was no way he actually thought she was going anywhere with him. She wished she had the privacy to tell him that he'd already gotten everything out of her that he was going to get, even though she doubted it would have much of an effect since fucking her had likely been the extent of his interest. She didn't bother to smile or even try to hide her disgust at the presence of the other woman. "No, I changed my mind."

Her eyes were still on his, displaying his surprise at her cold tone. "Liv?"

"Why don't you go with Dani instead?" She motioned toward the blonde without a glance in that direction. "I'm sure she'll be better company tonight than I'd be." Unless Elliot was particularly interested in having his testicles run through her food processor while they were still attached to his body.

His eyes narrowed and Olivia knew he was about to say something that would piss her off.

Except Dani's big, smiling mouth opened to fill the moment of quiet. "I'd love to join you. Where are you headed?"

Olivia smiled a hateful smile at her partner, fairly sure she looked kind of demented. "See, she's so eager."

He stepped toward her and Olivia noticed Dani's hands finally fall away from him. Olivia couldn't believe he hadn't noticed her touch. His voice dropped so low that Olivia could barely hear it and she somewhat enjoyed the way Dani strained to listen in. "I don't know what you're thinking, Liv, but it's not that. You and I have plans. We just talked about this."

Shaking her head, she tried her best to fake a smile. "No, really, it's fine. I'm not in the mood. Go with Dani." With a ridiculously supportive tone in her voice, she tried to drive the point home. "We can always hook up some other time, right?"

Elliot's skin paled two shades from the daggers in her eyes. "Liv-"

She couldn't stand it one more second. Three strides had her on the far side of Elliot's desk, well out of whisper range. So she raised her voice, honestly not caring enough to keep her words between them. "Go fuck yourself, Elliot." Hurt and betrayed as she felt, she expected that he'd follow her, that he'd chase her out of the building and beg her for another chance, that he'd grab her right there in the hallway and profess his love for her in front of everyone.

She would have accepted any of them.

But all she got as she rounded the corner was Elliot's furious voice, raised in a shout obviously meant for her to hear. "Drop dead."

She surprised herself, getting a whole twelve blocks from the precinct before the tears pouring down her face became so thick that she couldn't see through them. All she wanted was to be home, bathing in steaming hot water until all traces of Elliot had been removed from her skin. But she couldn't see and her muscles, the ones that Elliot had pushed to their limits, rebelled constantly, causing her to trip over her own damn feet every third step.

She ducked into the first bar she saw, shoving past people to get the bartender's attention. The mascara streaks probably did a hell of a lot in that department, as did her puffy, cut lip.

Twenty minutes later, she was carefully maneuvering down the steps to the subway, painfully aware of how her mother's death had come about while two shots of tequila and half a black and tan chaser swished around in her empty stomach. She wasn't in any shape to walk the rest of the way and she knew the subway would get her to her hot bath sooner than stumbling home. Not to mention the stabbing pain between her legs with each step she took that was oddly reminiscent of the knife her partner had thrust in her back.

By the time she was climbing back to street level, she'd traded in the hot, Elliot-tainted bath water for a scalding shower where she could watch as anything of his washed down her drain.

She shivered as she covered two of the three blocks to her apartment building, almost finding the humor left inside to laugh when she realized she was still strangling her warm, comfortable jacket. With only one block to go, she didn't see the point in putting it on. It would just become an obstacle in how quickly she could get under that stream of hot water, what she'd decided was her only chance at redemption.

But there was a whimper just as she reached for the cold metal railing. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to make it ok. She was drunk. She was hurting, physically, emotionally. She wasn't going to be much help. But it sounded like a kid, a young toddler maybe, or even an animal. Whatever it was, someone or something was in pain and she couldn't justify walking away. Maybe if she could help someone, then someone would help her.

She turned down the alley next to her building. "Hello?" Her heels crunched on gravel as she walked, catching once on a bottle, causing her to stagger against the brick wall. "Are you ok?"

Two steps later, she found a dog, a dirty, dingy mutt with a cut on his snout and his foot caught against the wheel of the dumpster. Squatting down next to him, she smiled and thanked god that it wasn't a kid. Kids meant calling authorities, answering questions, indefinite postponing of her getting clean. Technically, she should call animal control for a stray. But the poor thing looked as horrible as she felt and she took pity on it. Tentatively, she stretched out her hand, testing to see if he would bite. When he eagerly licked her fingers, she couldn't help but giggle.

"Come on, honey, let's get you out of here, huh?" She shifted closer, feeling her way down his front leg until she found where his paw was wedged. The poor dog whimpered as she twisted his foot, but he seemed fine when she finagled it free.

Once he realized he wasn't caught, he trotted further down the alley, disappearing into the darkness without a backward glance. Irritated that she'd managed to be used for someone else's benefit yet again, she took a deep breath and stood up.

Her head spun from the alcohol and her hand grabbed the edge of the dumpster to steady herself. It occurred to her that a shower might actually be dangerous in her condition, but there was no way she was going to not scrub his fluids from her body.

"I've been waiting for you."

She spun around, rather, she tried to, but she was still drunk. Her eyes widened in recognition and her hand instinctively reached for her gun.

But he was sober and he'd had a chance to plan.

There was a flash of beige in front of her eyes that suddenly covered her mouth and nose. She felt his hands, the one holding something over her face and the other closing around her throat. He shoved her hard, throwing her into the wall. In her state, she was helpless, and her head snapped back like a ragdoll, smashing hard into the brick.

The hit might have dazed her, except her consciousness was already fading, her eyes closing against her will. She felt her knees give, leaving her body supported by his hands. Then her hands released, one falling from her holster, not having managed to unsnap it, the other finally relaxing the chokehold she'd had on her coat.

And then there was nothing.