Author's Comments: Yeah, I had forgotten all about Infiltrated, where she keep saying Elliot's name in her sleep. Sisters don't do that, lol. Ew, that would be gross.

Too Close

Chapter Four

Part 1.

Her back still against the wall, Olivia slid to the floor and sat in a heap, her mind blank. Her skin was warm, but her insides were like an iceberg unable to thaw, and she shivered uncontrollably. She had no idea how long she had been sitting there when someone knocked on the door.

Startled, she stared at it for a minute before getting up to answer it. "Amanda?" she said, trying to keep her voice from quivering.

But she could tell from the wrinkles on Amanda's forehead that she knew something was amiss. "Olivia, I—" she began, and then cleared her throat. "I heard a call on the radio—a report of domestic violence, and then I heard the address. I thought maybe I should be the one to respond . . ."

Amanda studied Olivia's throat from a distance and said, "Can I come in?"

The moment had a surreal ring to it, and it took Olivia a moment before she shook off her trance and said, "Sure. Yeah, sure."

She stepped aside for Amanda, who cast an extra-long glance at her face while passing by her. Olivia closed her eyes and moved her body to a kitchen chair on automatic, numb from the neck down. In fact, the only part of herself she could feel was her cheek, which was probably swollen from Elliot's fist imprinting onto it.

"Liv," said Amanda, snapping her out of her stupor, "What happened here tonight?"

Olivia's brain scrambled for a cover story, but that would require that she think straight, and she was having trouble thinking at all. "I, uh—I fell. Hit my face on the, uh—the door knob."

Amanda stared at her in dumbfounded silence, and then said, "Come on, Liv. We both know there's more to it. You have red marks around your neck, some of them shaped like fingers." Olivia's hand flew up to her neck instinctively, and Amanda said, "And neighbors reported yelling. Loud banging, and then a scream."

Olivia studied her hands on the table in front of her. Victim of domestic violence. She would have bet her life that she would never end up with those words attached to a file with her name at the top. And who did a cop call when another cop was beating up on her? She would not have him arrested—she knew that much.

She caught herself chewing on her fingernail and pulled it away, biting her lip instead. "Liv?" Amanda prompted her.

"Elliot was drunk," Olivia said. "He's been moody and jealous ever since me and Alex—"

"Alex . . . Cabot?" Amanda said, her eyes opening wide.

Olivia nodded. Her eyes met Amanda's as she said, "He's never done anything like this before. I don't think he would ever intentionally—"

"C'mon Liv, whether he meant to or not, he did it." She paused, and said, "What are you going to do about it?"

"I—to tell you the truth, I haven't thought that far in advance yet."

Amanda stood to move next to Olivia. "May I?" she said, holding her hand under Olivia's chin. Olivia nodded, and Amanda used her finger to gently lift her jaw and examine her neck. She winced, saying, "He could have killed you, Liv."

Olivia pulled her head away from Amanda and said, "I can't charge him for this. It's not like he's a serial batterer."

Amanda pressed her lips together tight and studied Olivia's face. "Okay, I get it. You don't want him getting into trouble over something he's only done once, in a fit of rage. Maybe it was a mistake. But you can't let him back in—"

"It's his apartment."

"Yours too, now. He'd have to evict you."

"Nah," said Olivia, shaking her head. "It wouldn't be fair to him—"

"He hit you and choked you," Amanda said slowly, enunciating each word. "And you're talking about fairness?"

"I know," said Olivia, closing her eyes as a heaviness landed on her chest. "And I have to leave. But right now, all I want to do is curl up in a little ball and sleep."

"So come back to my place," said Amanda.

Olivia sighed. "Thanks, but I think I'll go to a hotel instead. With the state of mind Elliot's in right now, I don't want him to get the wrong impression."

"Okay, I'll help you get some things together." As an afterthought she said, "And can I sit with you a while tonight? You look like you're in shock, Liv."

Olivia knew she was right—her trembling hands and empty thoughts told her as much, making it difficult to plan, or even move, as if she was immersed in toxic sludge.

Part 2.

Elliot wandered the streets, pieces of the evening flashing through his mind uncontrollably. 'Oh my God, I hit her,' he thought, running his hand over his close-cropped hair. 'What the hell did I do?'

Most of the evening was a blank, and he thought he had probably blacked out the worst of it. But in his mind, he saw her eyes light up with fire after he had thrown the punch, and arms blurred around him as he instinctively blocked them. And her terrified face when he held her up against the wall. 'No,' he thought, remembering how her flesh had given way under his fingers, indenting neatly into an impression of his hand. 'Oh God, no.'

He pulled out his phone and pushed her number, pacing while he waited for her to answer. But it went straight to voicemail, and he hung up, not sure what to say in a message. What did one say to someone they nearly choked to death. Somehow, "I'm sorry" just didn't cut it.

Not wanting to be the stereotypical dickhead who brought flowers, he tried to think of other ways to make it up to her, but nothing came to mind that would erase the horrific thing he had done.

He wasn't an abuser. Or was he? He had never hit Kathy, never touched her in anger. The worst he had done was punched a hole in the wall, and Kathy wasn't even there when he did it. What was it about this relationship that made him so volatile?

Unable to think through the alcohol fog in his brain, he decided not to return home tonight. She would not want to see him right now, and he was too ashamed to try to explain himself. Instead, he staggered back to the precinct to sleep off his intoxication in the loft.