Author's Comments: As always, I appreciate all your comments—they really did help shape this chapter. Although . . . I'm not sure you're going to be happy with me after you find out how the issues are addressed . . . because I'm evil like that—Mwah ha ha.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Elliot ran his fingers through Olivia's hair as she slept, his mood slowly changing from elated to pensive as he contemplated their sexual encounter. It had all happened so fast, and she had been so determined, and he had not even thought about turning her down—she seemed so content and peaceful for the first time since he came back from his long absence, and he didn't want to take anything away from her. Plus, she came on so strong, it had been nearly impossible to say no when he got wrapped up in her passion. He almost got hard again thinking of how much he enjoyed her body.

But the more he stared at her face, closed eyes shuttering out the waking world, the more he remembered everything that had happened leading up that moment of intimacy, and the worse he felt about giving in. Earlier today, she had come down from heroin, and he ran his tongue over his teeth thinking about how she had nearly knocked them out trying to get high again. She was hallucinating, delusional, suffering from PTSD, getting high on pain meds and illegal drugs.

If there was anything he had learned from his years at SVU, it was that someone in her condition was hardly in a condition to consent.

He knew she would never complain, that she had enjoyed it thoroughly, that she wasn't impaired at the time, and that she would say she didn't feel he had taken advantage of her. But if he was questioning a perp who had slept with someone with a mental illness, he knew none of those defenses would hold up in court.

And wasn't that her condition right now—mentally ill?

He hated to admit it, but she fit all the criteria, even if it would prove to only be temporary. So as he looked on her angelic face, he made a decision to wait before he allowed it to happen again, no matter what she said to him.

His phone rang, and he went in the other room to answer it, wearing only his boxer briefs, keeping a close eye on her bedroom door in case she woke up. The voice on the other end was Lucy's.

"Elliot? What's going on with Olivia?"

"Uh, she's okay. But she's sleeping right now. Can we come and get Noah in a couple of hours, or do you need someone to get him now?"

Her tone turned cautious and serious, and she said, "Um . . . look, I don't mind keeping him a little longer today, but I have to say, I'm really troubled by everything that's been happening lately. I don't know what's going on with Olivia, and I really like her, but . . . I've been considering reporting her for neglect. I've never had someone leave their child with me so much before—"

"No, no . . ." he said. "Please don't do that, Lucy. Look, I promise things are going to get better, but she just needs a little time. This kind of thing isn't going to happen anymore. We've got a plan."

She sighed. "Okay, look. I'll give her one more chance, but if anything else happens I'm going to have to make the call, okay? For Noah's sake."

Elliot covered his eyes with one hand. "I know. I understand."

Olivia awoke to find Elliot sitting next to her in sweatpants and a t-shirt, on the side of the bed between her and the door, as if safeguarding it from her escape. Her head felt heavy, like it contained stones, and she mumbled, "What time is it?"

He caressed her arm, and she watched his face, wondering if he was real or just one of her hallucinations.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," he said, a little too chipper for her taste.

But she could tell from the dim light spilling in through the window that it wasn't morning at all, and that night was getting ready to fall. "How long did I sleep?" she tried again, since he never really answered her question.

"Long enough, I think," he said, eluding her question again. "You needed it, though—you were up all night last night."

"I know," she said, rubbing her eyes and then sitting up groggily. "I'm just . . . trying to get my bearings."

"How do you feel?" he said, his worrying eyes intensely studying her face.

"I'm . . . I'm alright. Still shaky, and itchy, and tense. But," she said, grabbing his hand with a smile, "I feel a lot better after we . . . got close."

"Yeah, that's kinda what I mean," he said, and now she tilted her head, confused. "I mean, are you okay with what we did?"

She narrowed her eyes, tightening her grip on his hand. She was starting to get a sinking feeling about this conversation. "Of course, why wouldn't I be? I mean, it was beautiful, and amazing. Not only that, but I felt . . . relaxed. And that's something I haven't felt lately. I'm assuming—you did feel the same way, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. I did. It was like you said—amazing. And I'm really glad you felt comfortable enough to share your body with me." She knew there was a "but" coming, and she had a sudden desire to clasp her hands over her ears so she didn't have to hear it. "But Liv," he said, wrapping her hand with both of his now. "I'm just worried that we might be jumping into this too soon, you know?"

"Too . . . soon?"

She scoured his face for signs of his meaning, but she found none. His eyes revealed pity, and compassion, and she didn't want to see any of that, so she pulled her hand from him, showing him her naked body one more time before slipping into casual clothes.

"Liv, I'm just saying that you've been through a lot, and you're still vulnerable, and—"

She spun around to face him, still buttoning up her black blouse. "And you're not ready to make that kind of commitment."

"No! No, that's not it at all. It's just . . . you're still seeing things, hearing things, going a little . . ."

He stopped, but she knew what the next word was supposed to be. "I'm crazy." She nodded, finally understanding his hesitation. Her glare burned a hole through him, and she said, "That's what you mean, isn't it? I'm too crazy to fuck—"

"Liv, c'mon. You're not crazy."

She paced, unable to look at him anymore for fear she might lose it and punch him again. "I am. That's what you're saying, right?" She slapped a hand to her forehead. "It makes sense—I'm hallucinating. I'm wandering the streets in a delusional haze. Why would you want to have sex with a mental patient?"

Hot, angry tears rolled down her cheeks, and she thought she heard the voices whispering at her again, but now was the worst possible time for them to come. Here she was, trying to prove her sanity to him, while the madness played on in her head. Feeling the urge to get it out of her system, she kicked the wall hard with her foot. "Goddammit!" she said through a clenched shut jaw. "I wish it would just go away."

"Hey," he said, standing now. But he remained planted to the spot where he stood, like he was debating whether or not it was safe to approach her. "It's okay, Liv. Just calm—"

"Don't you tell me to calm down," she said, facing him with one finger pointing accusingly at him. "You have no idea. No idea how bad this sucks."

Her voice boomed through the room, and she knew she needed to get control of herself or she might lose herself forever. But if she didn't get out of here and walk this out she might tear this place apart, so she started toward the door. She only got as far as Elliot, and he grabbed her by the arms and held her in place like cement.

The move almost sent her reeling into another abusive rage, but Elliot stopped her with his words, saying, "You can't go out there, Liv. You need to think about Noah. I spoke to Lucy, and she's on the verge of calling Child Protective Services on you."

She shut her eyes and clenched her fists, allowing his hands to hold her in place. Fast breaths raced through her ribcage at the thought of losing Noah, and she shook her head, forcing herself to get a grip on the real world. Because if there was one thing to glue her to the fine edge of sanity, it was her son.