Author's Comments: Happy Easter all!

Chapter Twelve

Whoosh . . . . The sound cast a swath of noise into an otherwise unsettlingly silent, dark hospital room. But she blinked, steadying her nerves and rubbing her eyes to see who was paying her a visit this late at night. Elliot was gone—Olivia made him leave to get some sleep. She glanced at the only light in the room—the glowing blue of the numbers on the hospital's digital clock. 2:30.

Blinking back sleep, she saw that the person in the room was medical staff—possibly a nurse.

Crack . . . . She cringed involuntarily. Even after it became obvious that the noise was the nurse accidentally dropping something into the sink, Olivia's heart pounded and her arms went numb. The person turned toward her, and her hairs stood on end when she saw that the person, who was wearing scrubs, was a man. He approached her with a syringe.

"Just changing out meds," he said quietly, but she found his voice eerie and low. But she lay still while he clamped her IV shut and wiped down the new tube with an alcohol wipe. His fingers gripped the tube with gloved hands, and then he snatched her arm in one hand and the tight rubber of his gloves felt cold and wet on her skin.

"Hey, why don't you dance for me?" The man's voice turned seedy and seductive, and Olivia backed away from him, shaking her head in a soundless scream.

Elliot rolled onto his back after the sharp sound of his ringtone jolted him awake. He looked over at the clock in his hotel room—3:00. What in the hell would anyone be doing calling him this time of night?

But he answered it, because he had a job that sometimes interfered with basic life functions, like sleep. "Yeah?" he said, rubbing his eyes.

"Elliot Stabler?" It was not a voice he recognized.

"Yeah?"

"This is Nurse Cranston at Presbyterian Hospital here. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

He knew his voice still sounded groggy, but he sat up when he heard where she was calling from. "Well, generally people are asleep at 3 a.m., but it's okay. Is this about Olivia Benson? Is she okay?"

"Well, actually, there's been an . . . incident. Nothing big—she's okay. But she got a little spooked when one of the nurses checked up on her, and she wants to talk to you."

"Alright. I'm coming down there. Tell her I'm on my way."

Incident. What did that mean, exactly? He could only wonder.

When he got into her room, she was sitting up but half out of it, and he wondered if they had drugged her even more. He knelt down in front of her, and she said, "Elliot, thank God you're here."

"What's the matter?"

In her eyes he saw wild-eyed terror, scanning the room for any sign of danger. "I don't know. It's just stupid. I just want to go home. I asked them if I could leave. They said I had to wait until tomorrow, or I would be going AMA."

"Against medical advice?" He set his hand on hers. "Why do you want to leave now? Did something happen?"

She glanced up at the nurses, and he followed her line of sight, recognizing that she wanted privacy. He said to them, "Can I talk to her alone for a moment?"

One nurse nodded and both stepped out. He squeezed her hand, and she relaxed just a tiny bit before looking into his eyes. "El, I—I thought I saw something, but I didn't, and I just . . . I just want to go home."

"Saw what?"

"I thought there was a male nurse, and that he was trying to take advantage, but—"

Elliot could feel his muscles tensing, ready to go put a fist through someone's jaw. "Well, did he? Because I'll—"

"That's just it, El," she interrupted. "I freaked out, kicked out at the nurse. And then when I blinked, I saw that it was really a female nurse, and she swears she didn't say anything to me the whole time."

Elliot paused, trying to make sense of what she had just said. "Maybe . . . you were dreaming?" he offered.

She shook her head, staring down at a tile in the floor now in shame. "No, I wasn't. I was awake. The nurse confirmed it."

"Then what, Liv? You . . . hallucinated?"

She slowly nodded, and then finally said, "I guess so." Her eyes pleaded with him now, and she said, "I don't know what's wrong with me, El. I just want to go home." Then she whispered, "Please," wrinkles forming in her forehead as she fought back tears.

He couldn't stand to see her like this, couldn't stand to see her cry, so he said, "Maybe it was just from the meds. But I'll see what I can do."

Within an hour, he was carefully helping her onto the elevator in her building, holding onto her underneath her arms so he wouldn't hurt her back. She walked pretty well on her own, but when they were inside the elevator, she faced him and leaned against him, looking weary. He leaned back against the wall of the elevator, allowing her to put all her weight on him.

Her body pressing into him, she molded into him, comfortably resting her head into the nook of his neck, and he could almost feel her tiredness draining into him as well. He ran his hand through her hair, and then stroked the black locks down against her head, and she said, "Mmm. . ."

He kissed the top of her head, and she pulled her head back to look at him now. Her eyes drooped as if she could barely keep them open, but a lazy smile formed on her face. "Thanks for doing this, El. I'm sorry for dragging you out of bed at—"

"No, it's not a problem," he stopped her.

Her eyes locked on his in a weary yet grateful gaze, and now he saw something else in them—a sparkle, perhaps? He swept a strand of her hair out of her eyes with one finger so he could see them better, and now he could really capture her beauty—the fullness of her lips glistening in the low elevator light. She licked them, and he braced himself, because he had a feeling he was about to be blown away. She leaned her head into him, and he closed his eyes and decided to wait and see what she did, instead of forcing things by giving in to his impulse to open his mouth against hers. But she didn't disappoint, and her lips made contact with his, gently pressing into them, sending shivers through his entire body.

He let her take the lead, his muscles loosening one at a time until his limbs turned to jelly from the heat of her kiss. She deepened it, her mouth hungrily working at his, their tongues flirting with one another, and when she finally stopped for a second to take a breath, he gasped. He opened his eyes just enough to see her mouth half-open, panting, nostrils flaring to breathe in his air and savor his presence.

"Elliot," she exhaled, and then the elevator stopped and dinged, the doors sliding open at her floor.

He knew that was it for the night, that she had used up every last bit of her energy to open the valve on her pent-up passion. But that one kiss would last him as long as he needed it to, could last him forever, as it would always be scorched into his memories.