Author's Comments: Oh how can I write this, knowing what's happening to Liv for real (ok, not for REAL real, but you know what I mean). Sigh. I have to keep reminding myself—"It's just a TV show. She's not really hurt." And then I watch footage of Mariska directing the "No More" PSA's, and I can breathe again, knowing she's okay, lol.

Too Close

Chapter Twenty-Two

Olivia backed Elliot against the door, crowding him into submission, and planted her hand firmly on his crotch. Elliot let out a hard breath, trying to get his thoughts together before testosterone took over completely. "Liv," he croaked, "I don't think this is a good idea—"

She put a finger over his lips to silence him, and said, "Don't think. Just follow my lead."

And then she was kissing him, so hard that his head smashed against the door behind him, and he closed his eyes, trying to relax and go with it. But his thoughts kept nagging at him, and he knew it wasn't right to take advantage of the situation, even if she was throwing herself on him. He broke his mouth apart from hers and exhaled, "Liv, you're not making this easy—"

"That's good," she said, her eyes narrowing, "because I'm trying to make it hard."

He chuckled, but genuine panic caused his chest to tighten as he tried to think of a way to talk her out of the bathroom without making her angry. He knew firsthand that rejection could be devastating, causing people to do irrational things, especially when drunk.

She began to massage his groin, causing his erection to grow into her hand, and she smiled triumphantly. He shut his eyes tight and groaned, willing himself to break away from her grasp, but unable to force his muscles to move. A hard knock on the door startled both of them, causing Olivia to freeze and Elliot to open his eyes wide.

"Go away!" Olivia yelled. "It's preoccupied."

"Shhh . . ." said Elliot. "You're not supposed to be in here, remember?"

A few seconds passed with no response, and Olivia unzipped his pants, working on the button next. He started to push her hands away when another loud knock on the door erupted, followed by a man's gruff voice saying, "Open up—this is a bouncer. You need to open it."

Elliot's stomach fell, but Olivia's wily smile grew wider, and she slurred, "We're going to the bathroom here. A little privacy? C'mon, geez."

"Liv—"

"Step away from the door," said the voice, and the door vibrated from pounding on the other side.

Elliot shoved Olivia backwards to protect her, and the door flew open just after he got her safely out of the way. Just as he turned to see an angry titan of a bald guy standing in the doorway, he heard Nick's voice saying, "Police, stop right there."

The bouncer put his hands up and said, "We didn't call—"

A cacophony of angry voices erupted in the hallway outside the bathroom, with several more familiar voices yelling out "Police," while other voices, presumably those of management and employees, protested about the unfairness of having police officers step in on the wrong side of the dispute.

With several enraged men lined up against the wall, Nick peeked into the bathroom and lowered his gun arm when he saw who was inside. "Aaah, man, what the hell are you guys doing?" Throwing his hands up, he said, "No, don't answer that. I don't want to know."

Nick looked into the hallway now and said, "Don't go in there. False alarm."

Elliot dropped his head in his hand as he waited for the chaos to die down in the hallway. He looked over at Olivia, her eyes droopy from drunkenness, and sighed as he realized she was still smiling, apparently finding the entire scenario hilarious. He wondered what she was going to think in the morning.

He exited out into the hallway, and as he stepped into the ranks of his fellow detectives, he suddenly remembered that his zipper was still down from Olivia's prying fingers. He zipped it up as he passed a grinning Munch, and said, "Don't say a word."

Munch put up his hands, fingers spread wide apart, and kept his mouth shut. Amanda averted her eyes as Elliot and Olivia passed her, as if she might catch a glimpse of something she didn't want to see. Fin said as Elliot passed him, "Sorry, man. Someone complained that there was a woman in the men's bathroom, and they were concerned someone might be assaulting her. Nick thought the bouncer was just some guy trying to go after the woman in the bathroom, and-well, it all got fuckin' jacked up."

Nick was already back at the bar, drowning out the scenario with a shot. Two uniformed officers stood at the bar as well, waiting to talk to the guilty culprits. Elliot turned to check on Olivia, who staggered slowly toward him, and he prayed she didn't break out into a giggling fit. One of the policemen stepped forward and said, "Are you Stabler?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm really sorry, man. We weren't . . . I mean, we didn't do anything."

The officer looked like he was trying to suppress laughter as well, and he said, "I'm sorry, but the bar owner was pretty pissed. He doesn't want to cut you any slack—probably because you are cops."

"I understand," said Elliot. "We'll come with you—no need to—"

"Go ahead, cuff me," said Olivia, holding out her hands. "I've done this before. Four times. Or is it five? I've lost track."

"Liv—" Elliot said, shooting her a warning look.

"C'mon," she said, grinning while she ignored him. "Wouldn't want to disappoint the on-lookers."

She wasn't kidding about that—several bar attendees had gathered around, trying to get a peek at the scene playing out. Elliot pushed her hands down and said, "Don't listen to her, we'll go with you—"

"Phsh . . ." she said. "Let's give them what they want to see. C'mon, El, don't be such a—"

She swooned, and Elliot grabbed her under one arm in time to prevent her from dropping to the floor, while one of the cops got her under the other arm. They guided her out the door as she tried to find her feet and place them decisively back under her. The officer put a protective hand over her head as he placed her in the back of his cruiser, and Elliot slid in beside her, shaking his head.

The officers took them back to the precinct instead of Central Booking, and placed them in separate interrogation rooms. When the door to Elliot's room opened, he let out a minute's-worth of air as he recognized the face of the officer entering as someone from his past. "Jackson," he said. "How are you?"

"Stabler," said the officer, who had worked with Elliot in uniform nearly twenty years ago. "I heard you were in here, asked if I could be the one to talk to you."

"Thank God," said Elliot. "Is there anything you can do to make this thing go away? My partner—ex-partner, I mean—she was drunk, not to blame her or anything. Bottom line is, nothing happened. Not to say it wouldn't have—"

Pete Jackson laughed, and he said, "No problem, Stabler. I owe you one, remember?"

Elliot smirked, but he knew his old buddy was right. Elliot had rescued him from a potential drug possession charge in their younger years, when Jackson had smoked a joint on the street after hours. "Now, your partner—"

"Ex-partner," said Elliot.

"Whatever. She's a little intoxicated still. Don't know if they'll let her go the way she is, especially after the way she acted in front of the guys who arrested her."

"What if I promise to take her home and make sure she stays there?"

Jackson paused, and then said, "Alright, I'll see what I can do."

A half-hour later, Elliot was allowed to escort Olivia out of the precinct. She stumbled with eyelids half-closed past the front desk, and Elliot prayed that she didn't say anything. Pausing one last time before exiting, she turned to the desk clerk and held up one finger, saying, "I'll be back. Just kidding. You—have a good night, sir." Elliot whisked her out the door as she yelled over her shoulder, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Not wanting to put a wasted Olivia in the back seat of a fellow officer's car, Elliot called for a cab. He opened the back door for her, but instead of getting in, she stuck her face in his and said giddily, "Elliot Stabler, you are trouble." He held a hand against her head to keep her from hitting it on the door frame as she sat down. Then he sat next to her, and she leaned into him, putting all her weight on him. "You are . . . something else," she gasped. "You, yes you . . ."

When she stopped talking, he looked down to find her head resting on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her. Her breathing deepened, and he knew she was out for good when her body weighed heavily on him. Then he gave the taxi driver his own address, and took out his phone to text Amanda and let her know where they were going.