Day Eleven, cont'd
Elliot spent a good long time staring at the closed door which kept Olivia from his sight. After having gone through hell for a week while thinking of all the things he wanted to say and change and cherish, he couldn't quite believe that he was standing there in her hall, five yards from her bed, five yards from her, five yards from holding onto the one thing that could keep him sane.
Quite frankly, he wasn't sure why he hadn't ripped the door off the hinges at the mere suggestion that it would separate them.
Although having made it through the last week, during which he'd proven time and again that he would try, even if he eventually failed, to demolish any barrier between them, he was surprised he hadn't thought of tearing the door apart sooner. And the fact that she'd been pissed off and storming away from him, despite what's she'd been through, convinced him that she'd survive the surprise of seeing him reject her request for space.
The idea breathed life into his body, carrying him right up to the door. But rather than throwing the door open hard enough to wedge the doorknob into the plaster of the opposite wall, he watched his hand lift up to tap lightly against the wood. Maybe, he realized, his hand hadn't been any more convinced by her behavior than the rest of him had been.
"Liv?" He tapped again very lightly. He turned the knob slowly, peeking through the crack that slowly widened as he pushed the door open. On the off chance that she really had felt enough like herself to go right to sleep, he didn't want to wake her. But he needed to be sure, to know for certain that she was ok, before he turned his back.
Rather than a dark room and a nondescript lump under her blanket, his eyes found the room lit by the small lamp on the bedside table. The dim glow illuminated her outline, her hunched frame perched on the edge of the bed just inside the door. There wasn't enough light to see her face, but he was easily able to see what he needed to see.
She lifted her head, laying aside the piece of paper she'd been holding. "I thought you'd left."
The first response that occurred to him was to laugh at the mere suggestion, but he couldn't find anything funny when it came down to it. Instead he stepped through the door, determining from her words, from her position, from her silent acceptance, that she wasn't really all that angry with him. He sat down beside her, allowing ample space between them so she wouldn't feel crowded or threatened. "No, I'm still here."
He didn't mean to, but his hand accidentally brushed the paper she'd been holding. It caught his attention as it fluttered to the ground. Stooping to pick it up, he realized for the first time what it was, what she'd been staring at while he'd been staring at the closed door. It was one of the photographs from Mackay, the one he'd left on the table beside her bed, the one he'd practically forgotten about with everything that had happened since he'd looked at it. As it had every time he'd looked at it, the image transfixed him.
It was still amazing, he realized, even knowing that their problems communicating, because Mackay captured a quiet moment, in between their words, where they were just staring into one another's eyes. He could see the connection between them. He could feel it. Fuck communication. They didn't need it. They just needed to look at each other.
He laid aside the photo because he knew there were more important things to be dealt with at that moment. His hand closed over hers, pressing only hard enough to assure her of his presence, not trying in any way to cage her or force the issues between them. He intended simply to offer her whatever strength she could garner from sitting beside him. She needed that from him, he realized. Right then, having been through the previous week, she needed to know that her partner was there to lean on, to rely on, to depend on. And that was what he knew he needed to remember – she needed her partner, not whatever it was he'd become that day in the crib.
"I'm here, Liv." He smiled when her head turned toward him. "I'm not going anywhere ever. I mean it."
She nodded slowly. "I know. I'm just- I don't know, confused, I guess." She was quiet for a moment before she smirked. "Although that much is probably pretty obvious to you, huh?"
For quite possibly the first time in their partnership, he knew exactly what to say, how to comfort her. And as much as he knew he needed to say it, as resigned as he was to the fact that he would never deny her anything that was in his power to give her, it still took every ounce of altruism he could scrounge up in his body. Because to give her the very thing she required of him was to deny himself what he wanted so very badly. But just as he'd promised himself so very many times while she was gone, he wasn't about to deny her.
He shifted over, closer to her, setting aside the photograph for a later explanation. "Look, I know you've been through hell, Liv." He paused for a moment, trying to take the idea, which was beyond perfect in his head, and turn it into something that would make sense to her. Without it sounding like a rejection. Because that was the last thing he wanted her to think.
He winced as he tried to find a way around what had seemed like the ultimate stroke of wisdom only moments prior. Finally, he cleared his throat and started again. "We need to talk about what happened." Although she'd counseled him otherwise, the familiar weight of guilt still threatened to collapse onto his shoulders at the idea. "I know we touched on it earlier, but telling me you're not sending me to prison is hardly going to settle things."
Olivia wasn't looking at him, rather she was studying his hand where it was lying over hers. Without any warning, she yanked hers away, obviously preferring to twist it around in her lap. "El, I don't-"
Unperturbed, he reached over, stilling both of her hands in her lap. "I wasn't finished." When she offered no argument, verbal or physical, he folded his hand around hers once again. "What happened, what it means, where we go from there, whatever, we do need to talk about it." His face turned toward her, finding the nervous way she worried her lip at the thought hopelessly endearing. "But that can wait."
Shocked by his announcement, her head jerked up, her eyes meeting his as her mouth dropped open. "It can?" He couldn't recall her ever sounding so happy about anything ever.
With a reassuring nod, he smiled. "I think there are other things that you, that we, need to deal with first, ok?" It about broke his heart to say it, but he had to acknowledge that the blatant relief on her face made him feel much better about the whole thing. "Once we get through this, we can come back to our personal issues."
She nodded slowly, although her sudden lack of enthusiasm told him that her mind was hardly made up. Her voice was soft again, as though voicing her thoughts was nearly beyond her strength. "You want to forget about it." Her nodding, which had started as an appropriate response to his words, continued as she tried to convince herself. "Yeah, that's probably the best idea. It was a mistake. We shouldn't have-"
He let go of her hand, choosing instead to slide his fingers around her cheek, forcing her to look at him while he physically reassured her with his touch. "That's not what I said."
"But-"
"That's not what I meant either." He shook his head before she got any further, sliding his thumb over her lips to silence her. "And, for the record, that's not what I want."
She offered no more protests and he found that encouraging. So he shifted a bit closer, his side coming in contact with hers as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Right now, just for right now, I'm your partner. The same way I've always been. Nothing else. So if you want to talk or not talk or demand that I buy you food or-"
"Punch someone?" Her voice revealed her smile, but he couldn't see it since she'd rested her head against his chest.
"Yeah, that too." He tightened his arm, squeezing her into his side in a way neither one of them bothered to mention that he never would have done before. "Anything you want. Just let me know."
"So would now be a good time to mention that you're killing my shoulder?"
He jerked away, realizing that putting pressure on her injured, and only partially treated, shoulder was probably a lot more painful than she let on. But even after he'd released her, she stayed tucked against him, leaning her head down. He leaned down as well, letting his chin rest on her hair. "I do have to say that I'd be particularly thankful if any other requests could wait until we get a little sleep because I'm really fucking tired."
She laughed, nodding as she pulled away. "Yeah, I think I can agree to that." But as she crawled toward the head of the bed and pushed her feet under the covers, Elliot saw her pull her bottom lip in between her teeth again, a sure sign she had something else to say.
He said a silent prayer that it not be a question about her sheets because he suspected they'd long since mildewed in her washer and he really didn't want to explain why. "What, Liv?"
"Can I make one tiny request before you go to sleep?"
"Yeah, sure. One. As long as it's tiny." As he spoke, he moved around to the side of the bed, turned off the light, and slid into the space beside her.
"Never mind."
He winced as the guilt surrounded him once more. "It's ok, Liv. What?"
She shifted around, nestling herself next to him in practically the same way she'd been sitting. "I was just going to ask you to stay."
He grinned into the darkness, wondering if Huang's gift for mind reading had rubbed off on him. Or maybe it was sheer luck that his completely selfish act had turned out to be precisely what Olivia had wanted. "Night, Liv." He waited to hear her response, but she was already asleep.
And he knew, as he held her close, that she was already starting to heal.
Splintered.4
