Author's Comments:

Too Close

Chapter Twenty

"Hello?" said Elliot's grainy voice over the intercom.

"Elliot, it's me—can I come up for a few minutes?"

"Liv? Hold on." The familiar buzz sounded, and Olivia crutched her way into the building with Amanda's help. Olivia appreciated Amanda being there for her, and thought her friend might be coming along for protection. But to Olivia, it felt too much like a chaperone, and she secretly wished she could be alone with Elliot in his apartment.

Elliot's door swung open, and he smiled at first, his grin disappearing when he saw Amanda with her. "I . . . need to get some things," said Olivia.

A beat passed while Elliot processed this new information, and then he said, "Sure, come on in."

Olivia went into the bedroom, Elliot close behind, and Amanda hung back in the living room, perhaps sensing that they needed space. Elliot wordlessly pulled a duffle bag out of the closet while Olivia began to rummage through the dresser. He held the bag open as she placed some clothing in it, and when she glanced up, she noticed his face still reddened from the beating he took. Reflexively, she reached up to touch his wounded cheek, and his eyes met hers. Then he captured her hand in his and pulled it to his mouth to kiss it gingerly.

"I'm sorry," he said, blinking. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's okay," she said, allowing her hand to stay in his. She shut her eyes and relished his skin on hers, caressing his hand with her thumb.

Opening her eyes again, she saw him studying her face, and he said, "You look tired."

"Yeah, I haven't slept much lately."

"May I?" he said, placing his free hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah," she nodded.

He dug his fingers into her neck muscles, and she nearly passed out from the pleasure. "You're so tense," he said, massaging the back of her neck, right at her hairline, between his thumb and fingers.

She moaned her bliss, words escaping her in the ecstasy of his touch. "I miss this," she whispered.

"Me too," he said.

"I'm doing okay, but the nightmares are getting to me," she said, deciding to risk it and share herself with him. "Everything that's happened lately—it seems like too much for one person."

His fingers halted as he said, "Well, you know what they say. God only gives you what you can handle."

"That's bullshit," she said. "If I could handle it, why did I try to end my own life? And why is God giving me rape and torture anyway? Doesn't seem very merciful to me."

He smiled at her cleverness and began to work his fingers into her shoulders, using his other hand now too. "You know," he said, "for what it's worth, I haven't had a drink since that night we fought."

She nodded, trying to concentrate through the heaven of his fingertips kneading her flesh. "You find a counselor?" she asked.

"Yeah, had my first session today. Already, I feel like I'm learning a lot about how to diffuse my anger."

"Sign up for anger management?" she said.

"Uh-huh," he said. "I start next week."

She tightened her lips, and then brought her hands to his sides, running one of them along the edge of his back. His muscles protruded through his shirt in that fabulous way she loved, and she decided to act on her impulses. Placing her hand behind his head, she pulled him to her until their lips met and hungrily discovered one another once again.

"Mmm . . ." she groaned, feeling the familiar tingle in her abdomen that pulled her toward him like a magnet.

Their mouths explored one another, whipping up a refreshing blend of lips and tongues. Then Olivia pulled back, licking her lips. She knew it was too soon to give him another chance—the distance between them had not grown more than a hair yet. But she had to have him—she knew this too.

In the end, hormones won out, and she sighed, gathering the courage to face Amanda. The blonde was rifling through a book on handguns sitting on Elliot's coffee table, and she looked up curiously. Then, it was as if she knew, because a smirk made its way onto her lips. "Amanda," said Olivia, "I'm, uh—I'm going to stay here for a little while. Elliot will bring me back."

Amanda sighed and got up to leave. She stopped in front of Olivia, but kept her eyes straight ahead. "No," she said. "I'm not going to say anything. This is your decision. Call me if you need anything, but this is the last time . . ." She decisively left it at that, and strode out the front door.

Olivia stared into space for a moment, and then Elliot's hand on her neck jolted her out of her trance. "You don't have to do this," he said. "I'm fine with waiting—"

Her eyes turned to him, and she said, "I'm ready, El. I want to spend some time with you."

He paused, glancing at the bathroom, and said, "You want me to run you a hot bath?"

She smiled. "Yeah, that sounds nice." And then, a moment of panic consuming her, she said, "This doesn't mean we're automatically going back to the way things were."

He nodded, saying, "I know. However much time you need." His eyes moistened as he said, "Even if this is our last time together."

As Elliot started the bathwater, Olivia recalled all the victims of domestic violence she had spoken with over the years. Many of them had told her that they tried reconciling with their abusers, but found that all the feelings they had for their man were gone. Yet Olivia still felt giddy like a schoolgirl around him, and she knew that was a good sign that her heart had not yet given up on him.

He gently eased her into the bathtub, helping her rest her cast on the edge of the bathtub. She sighed and closed her eyes, realizing that this was the first time she had been able to take a bath since she broke her foot. Elliot disappeared into the bedroom, and just as she wondered what he was doing in the other room, she began to hear music playing. As she listened carefully, she heard that it was "Don't Want to Miss a Thing," by Aerosmith.

Elliot left her alone for the duration of several songs, all of which were love songs, and she had to wonder if he made a mix CD especially for her. "Elliot, I'm ready to get out," she yelled.

He popped into the bathroom carrying one of his own robes, and she let the water out. He stood still for a moment, silently admiring her naked body, and she smiled. Getting her out of the bathtub was an awkward task, and he finally just gave up and lifted her whole body at once. When she was standing, he draped his robe around her, and it hung loosely, but it was surprisingly soft and warm.

"Why don't you come in the bedroom and I'll work some of the kinks out of your muscles?" he said.

"I'd like that," she said, and he escorted her into the bedroom, dark except for lit candles placed around the room.

"I've got some hot tea on the nightstand," he said, helping her to the bed, and then lifting her leg onto it.

The spicy scent from the tea wafted under her nose, and she lifted the cup to blow on the hot concoction. As she did, he sat down at her feet, lifting her good foot into his hands and massaging the bottom of it with his thumbs. "Mmmm . . ." she said, closing her eyes reflexively.

After finishing with her foot, he kissed it and set it gently down on the bed again. Then he moved up her body with tiny soft kisses, until he got to her thighs, where he stopped. Now he brought his attention to her neck, pulling her skin in between his lips while he kneaded her shoulders with sturdy hands. "Ah, El, that is so good," she said, all her muscles relaxing spontaneously.

He paused his pampering for a moment to slide off his jeans, and she said, "El—"

"It's okay," he said. "I'm not expecting anything from you. I just want to lie next to you, and I'm getting comfortable just in case we fall asleep."

She smiled as he brushed her hair away from her temple, where he planted his lips in another gentle kiss. He wrapped her up in safety with his arms, and she sighed, reluctant to break the mood. "Good," she said finally, "because I've been thinking about why I allowed things to get so bad, and I think I know the answer."

Elliot rolled onto his back now, folding his hands behind his head. Olivia's heart jumped, and she looked over to see if he was mad. Not seeing any traces of anger in his face, she said, "My whole life, I've never had anyone to rely on. It's been just me, and it's been lonely." She glanced over at him again, and he was watching her face as she talked. "Then when you stepped in when I needed you the most, for the first time ever, I had someone taking care of me—treating me special, pampering me in a way I'm not used to. I wasn't used to that, and once I had it, I would do practically anything to keep it, even putting up with alcoholic barrages from a jealous lover."

Elliot winced, but she got the feeling it was more out of shame than anger. She decided it was safe to keep talking. "But I don't want to fall into that trap again. I don't want to rely on someone else to make me feel safe, because I can't ever guarantee that the other person is going to be there for me."

Elliot gulped and said, "I'm sorry that I've been unreliable, and I know you need to be independent. But I want you to know, I do understand that I crossed the line—several times in fact. And I know that it's never okay to lay hands on you, no matter what you say or do to me. I can't promise that I'll never slip up again and get snippy, but I can say that I've drawn a line in my mind that I can never cross again."

She smiled weakly at him and said, "I believe you mean that. And over time, maybe you can show that to me."

He laid his hand on her cheek, caressing it as he revered her presence, and then brought his arm around her body in a snug embrace. She got lost in the warmth of his body next to her, and her eyes fell closed, heavy with sleep. For the first night in weeks, she slept through the night, Elliot's arms around her, without horrible images plaguing her dreams.