The first time Amanda was shot, she didn't have time to think a single thought. One moment she was rounding the corner of a car, the next, she was on the ground feeling like her shoulder was on fire. She could hear Olivia's voice, and see Fin's face, but other than that, it was just fire and nothing else. Until she woke up in a hospital bed, high as a kite.
The second time, it felt like she had nothing but time to think; About her girls, Carisi, Olivia, and the life she had lived up until that bullet pierced her stomach. In reality, of course, all of it happened in the blink of an eye, but when she laid there, with blood gushing and pooling around her fingers, a gun suddenly aimed at her head, time slowed until it froze completely.
But now?
Standing here on what was supposed to be a beautiful day, in a building that is supposed to represent faith and safety-
Now all of the people Amanda thought about in what she was sure would be her last moment on this earth, are in just as much danger as she is. Her children. Her husband. Her Liv.
…
She can't remember doing it, but she knows she has moved. Because a minute ago, she and Carisi were separated by the altar, and now she's partly covered by him, shielding Billie between their legs. Her eyes move to the benches, locating Jesse's braid, just barely visible between Phoebe's arms that are wrapped around her in a tight, protective hug.
Ollie.
Heart racing and stomach turning, she searches for her son, but when she looks to the priest, Ollie is not where she last saw him.
Where the fuck is Ollie?
She knows then, when the sound of a soft cry reaches her ears, that she has officially lost her mind and gone mad. Because, without any recollection of how he got there, that's when she realizes that Ollie is pressed against her own chest.
It's not important, she thinks. It doesn't matter if she's losing her mind, as long as she can keep her children safe.
"Everyone should leave now." The stranger says, breaking the silence that has filled this empty church since they first noticed his presence. "Except you."
Following his stare, Amanda's eyes land on the priest, registering the fear in his expression. But there's something else there too. A hint of recognition or knowing or something else. Something that tells her this stranger is not a stranger to the man standing five feet away from her. And in a brief moment of relief, realizing that her family is not the target, she cradles Ollie's head, kissing the top of it, whispering "I've got you."
The relief dwindles fast, however. She has been in enough dangerous situations to know how quickly things can escalate, how the smallest thing or mistake can change the course completely. Everyone around her knows that too, so there's a reason why no one has moved or said anything. A very good reason why, right now, nothing is happening.
"I said leave!" The stranger yells, making everyone duck or cower instinctively when the gun in his unsteady hand moves in a half circle around the room.
"Ok-" Olivia says, hands raised as she takes a step, and then another. "Just… calm down." She tells him, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that everyone else stays exactly where they are.
"I don't need to calm down." He says, and for a moment he drops his hand and the gun with it, right before raising and aiming it again, this time at Olivia. "I need everyone to leave."
"I can't-" Olivia starts, shaking her head but otherwise standing still, "we can't do that." Carefully gesturing around the room, she lowers her voice, and knowing what the captain will do next, Amanda holds her breath. "I'm a cop-" Olivia says. "Most of us are."
It goes against all logic, Amanda knows that. Olivia knows that. Because logically, this is the moment where any civilian would gather their children and leave. Get out. Get away. Call 911. And pray that the cops get there before any shots are fired.
But Olivia does not have that luxury.
Technically, and for some reason she feels like that makes it worse, Amanda does. She is one of those civilians now. She can leave, and she should. But maybe, she realizes, she will always follow her captain, regardless.
"You're armed?" He asks, flailing the gun around as if the gun isn't even there. "All of you?"
"No-" Olivia responds, shaking her head again. "We're not armed and we're off duty, ok?" She takes another step towards him then, causing Amanda to stop breathing again. When he doesn't react, clearly assessing his options or the lack thereof, Olivia takes a second step. "Listen-" She says, "I'll stay, ok? I'll stay here, and the rest can leave."
"Liv-"
She only realizes that the name was spoken by her when Carisi turns his head, looking at her over his shoulder. Whether he's pleading with her to shut up, or sympathizing with her pain, she can't tell.
"That ok with you?" Olivia continues. "Can we get the children outside, and then maybe we can talk about this?"
The seconds drag on as everyone waits for him to give them his verdict, giving Amanda time to actually study this stranger who right now seems to be holding their lives in his shaking hands.
He's scared, she realizes. And hurt. She has seen that expression countless times before, in the faces of the many victims she encountered before handing in her badge. Based on his movements and the hint of a slurred speech, he might be a little drunk, but she's fairly certain that he's not high on anything else. There's kindness in his eyes, too. Well hidden and buried under a mountain of pain, but it's there. Glancing over at the priest, her stomach turns again, realizing then that the mountain of pain is probably caused by the same hands that held her own son just a few minutes ago.
"Fine." The stranger eventually mumbles from the aisle, pulling Amanda from her thoughts and making her shift her attention to the scene in front of her. "But he stays." Here, he adjusts his grip on the gun, yet again aiming it at the priest.
"He stays." Olivia nods.
…
"We've been at this for almost sixteen hours straight-" Sergeant Bell says, groaning and stretching before she collapses against the backrest of her chair. "We need a break."
"Yeah-" He says, mindlessly scrolling a long list of numbers and names, supposedly looking for a connection that seemed obvious when they first started this last night.
Noticing his absent demeanor, Ayanna shifts. "I said-" She starts, adding some volume to her own voice, "I'm thinking about leaving NYPD to become a professional dog groomer."
"Mhm-" Elliot mumbles, eyes focused on the screen in front of him.
Except, his eyes aren't really focused at all. They should be, considering how close they're getting to finally cracking and ending this case that's been hanging over them for months. But after sixteen hours with no sleep and a lot of lukewarm coffee, his thoughts just aren't in this room anymore.
…
"Surprise?" He grins. His initial plan to play it cool failing miserably as soon as she opens her door.
"You're back." She says, her words coming out as nothing but a whisper.
"Not-" He starts, shaking his head, staring down at the space between him. "Not exactly. Still have some loose ends to take care of."
"Then what are you doing here?" She asks, her expression changing from surprise to worry, her eyes moving over his body, inspecting it for any major or minor injury. "Did something happen?"
"No-" Smiling again, he takes a step towards her, "no, nothing happened."
She smiles too then, a little confused maybe, but it's still a smile and he takes a moment to wonder how it was possible for him to live without that smile for so many years. How he could even get up in the morning, when this smile and this face and those eyes weren't waiting for him somewhere. It'll probably never make sense. But he's here now, so he adds a simple confession, "I just wanted to look at you."
He knows he just gave her a choice, and maybe that's not entirely fair all things considered. But if he has learned anything since his return to New York, it's that whatever happens between them, and when that happens, has to be initiated by her. It has to be her choice.
He just wasn't prepared for her making that choice tonight.
"Just look?" She asks.
And that settles it.
Maybe if he was a better man, he could say that he hasn't had this very specific scene engraved somewhere in his mind since what feels like the beginning of time itself. He truly wishes that he was stronger than that. That he hasn't spent minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and fucking years imagining, down to every last detail, how this would play out.
But the truth is, he has. And as it turns out, every time he allowed his mind to go there, he was wrong about all of it.
Because never could he have imagined that she would taste like this. That she would hum into their kiss, followed by a deep groan. Nothing could've prepared him for the way she blindly shuts the door behind them before backing up against it.
And the way she feels under his touch, jesus christ- How she guides his hand, moaning when he takes the instructions she gives him and kneads her breast. Her tongue in his mouth, her hand over his hand, how she grinds against him shamelessly. It's too much and perfect all at once. No illicit fantasy could've ever prepared him for this.
"El-" She says, and then she says it again, and she's clearly trying to slow things down, even if just a little. To give them a chance to breathe or maybe even second guess what's about to happen. But god, it's pointless. They're so beyond the point of no return, and she gives up on her attempt at pausing this somewhere between moaning his name for the fourth time, and tugging at his belt.
"Bed?" He asks, but she shakes her head in response.
"No time." And he can't really argue with that because she's tugging at her own sweatpants and his belt just fell to the floor.
And then, with one layer of clothing on the floor joining the next, and the next, until he can finally feel her warm skin against his own, he's inside of her. It's not romantic. It's not gentle. This is not the way he imagined he would love her like this for the first time.
But god, it's perfect. She's perfect.
She's perfect and it feels sacred when she kind of buries her head in the crook of his neck, muting her own moans with her parted lips pressed against his skin. There's something so beautiful about how the weight of her leg feels in his hold, and the sound of her ass hitting the door behind them. And hopefully, he thinks, if she will allow it, and when life allows it, there will be days and nights where he's given the many hours he needs to do this the right way.
For now, though, this is more than enough.
"I love you-" He says, and it's so easy. It's easy to say it and mean it, and smile when she moves to look at him, when they pause their movements and he gets to use the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear that wets her cheek.
She wants to say it back, he can see it in her eyes and her expression, but he's moving again, so instead of saying anything, her mouth stays open as those eyes roll back, clinging to him to the point where he's not entirely sure if he'll ever be able to walk away.
But then she's coming. Hard, and in this decisive and yet vulnerable way that is all Olivia. And he silences her with his mouth, bruising her lips with his own, as he takes in the moment when she tightens and contracts around him.
This is the part of the fantasy where he would hold her, tell her she's beautiful. This is the part where he would wrap her in his arms, and watch her fall asleep, and kiss her forehead.
But this is real life, and right now, real life doesn't make much room for forehead kisses.
Instead there's quiet, except for some heavy breathing, warm air moving from her parted lips to his. Until she moves, as if just burned, grabbing the oversized t-shirt discarded on the floor, covering herself up as fast as she undressed a moment prior.
"That was-" She mumbles, looking down between them.
When she doesn't complete the sentence, he simply adds "it was."
There are so many other, and better things he wants to say right now. Things he wants to ask her and tell her. But no words come as they finish the job of getting the rest of their clothes back on, and so he doesn't protest or even question it when she turns to open the door, signaling for him to leave.
Except-
"El-" She says, and his heart breaks a little then because her voice is all hoarse and frail, and he realizes that whatever he is feeling right now, she is feeling it too, times a million. "I don't-"
"I know." He says, cupping her face. Not really sure what he's agreeing to. So he kisses her, letting her know as best as he can, that they'll find their way. Somehow.
…
The thing is, in terms of being distracted, it should've been the memory. Finally being free and allowed to touch and love her like that. To show her just how much his body has been craving hers. But it all came crashing down when he saw that look in her eyes, and felt her body around his.
Fuck.
How much he hurt her. The way he left her. The years that followed and kept them apart. All that life he has missed by not being there. The family she has built in his absence.
It's been two weeks since that night, and by each passing day he finds himself more and more convinced that he simply does not deserve her.
"Stabler-" Ayanna says, her flat hand meeting the top of her desk. "Are you gonna get that?"
"Shit, sorry-" Clearing his throat, he fumbles for his phone, confused when he checks the caller ID.
"Carisi?"
"Stabler-"
He's up from his chair as soon as he hears the tone in the ADA's voice. It's not like he knows this man very well, but he knows him well enough to realize that something's up. Something bad.
"What happened?" He asks, signaling for Ayanna to get up too.
"It's Liv-" Carisi says. "It's a, there's a man with a gun inside the church-"
Before Carisi can continue, and before Elliot can ask any questions, he hears Amanda's voice in the background, demanding Carisi to give her the phone.
"Stabler, you need to-"
But that's as far as their non-conversation goes.
Silence first, and then Amanda's voice, "no, no, no-" And what follows next is just a mess of intelligible sounds and words, impossible to understand or give meaning to.
"What's going on?" Elliot asks, rushing through hallways and stairwells with Ayanna following close behind, moving as fast as they can to get to his car. "Someone talk to me-"
"Amanda-" Carisi says, the anger in his voice palpable, "she just, we heard a shot and she just ran, I tried holding her back, but-" He cuts himself off, another twenty seconds of silence as Elliot starts the car, tossing the radio over to Ayanna.
"Call for backup." He tells her, asking Carisi for their location a moment later.
"Stabler-" The ADA says, and his tone is pleading now, angry still, but pleading. "I can't-"
"I know." Elliot responds, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. "I know."
…
TBC.