Elliot's world had shrunk, pared down to the confines of Olivia's hospital room. The hum of machines, the occasional shuffle of nurses, and the relentless rhythm of the clock ticking forward became the soundtrack of his hours. Coffee cups collected on the small counter near the sink, untouched sandwiches in plastic wrap left to grow stale, all evidence of a man who refused to leave, who refused to think about anything beyond the woman lying in the bed before him.
The ice packs and adjustments to Olivia's medications had brought her fever down temporarily. She stirred fitfully in her sleep, her body still waging war against whatever infection had taken hold. Elliot watched her, feeling helpless but resolute. He held her hand often.
Twelve hours later, as the morning sunlight began to filter through the drawn blinds, the doctor arrived with new scans in hand. Elliot stood when the doctor entered, bracing himself for news he already suspected wasn't good.
"We've reviewed her latest bloodwork and imaging," the doctor began, her tone calm but serious. "The antibiotics haven't been as effective as we'd hoped. We need to take another look at the internal injuries. It's possible there's an abscess or some tissue that isn't healing properly."
Olivia stirred at the sound of voices, her eyes fluttering open. Elliot immediately moved to her side, his hand finding hers.
"What...what's happening?" she rasped, her voice hoarse from the fever.
Elliot knelt by the bed, his face level with hers. "The doctor thinks they need to check your injuries again," he said gently. "Just to make sure nothing's been missed."
For a moment, Olivia said nothing, her face pale and blank. Then, as the meaning of the words settled over her, her breathing hitched.
"No," Olivia whispered, shaking her head, her jaw tightening as her voice wavered. "I don't want to. I've done everything they've asked. I've been through enough."
Her words trembled, but there was a flicker of fire behind them—a desperate attempt to hold onto her resolve. Elliot leaned in, his hands resting gently on the edge of her bed.
"Liv," he said softly, his eyes locked on hers. "Be reasonable here. You have to get better."
She let out a shaky breath, her control slipping as tears welled in her eyes. "You don't get it, El," she said, her voice breaking. "It's not just the pain. It's...it's the fact that it keeps happening. They keep touching and prodding, and I feel like I'm falling apart all over again. I'm so damn tired of it."
Her shoulders began to shake as Olivia broke. "No," she whispered, shaking her head weakly. "No, I can't—" Tears began to spill down her cheeks. "I can't do it again. I can't."
Elliot's heart broke at the raw vulnerability in her voice. "Liv," he said softly, leaning closer, "I'll be right there the whole time."
But she wasn't listening, her tears turning into deep, wracking sobs. "I can't," she repeated, her body trembling. "Not again. I can't."
"Liv, listen to me," Elliot said, his voice low and steady as he climbed onto the bed beside her. The small hospital bed groaned under his weight, but he didn't care. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, his hand cradling the back of her head. Her skin was so, so hot. So clammy. "Let me be strong for you," he said, his tone fierce but tender. "Lean on me. We'll do this together. One step at a time. But you're not giving up. Not now, not ever."
Her sobs shook her entire body as she clung to him, her fingers gripping his shirt as if it were the only thing anchoring her. Elliot pressed his cheek against her hair, murmuring soothing words that he wasn't even sure she could hear.
Minutes passed, or maybe hours—time felt meaningless in the haze of her grief and his determination to hold her together. Eventually, her sobs subsided into quiet sniffles, her body going limp against his.
"I'm so tired," she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest.
"I know," he said, his own voice trembling slightly. "I know you are."
Elliot held Olivia close for a long while. When her breathing evened out, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and carefully slid off the bed. "I'll be right back, Liv," he promised, brushing his hand lightly over her shoulder. She nodded weakly, her gaze fixed on the wall.
Stepping into the hallway, Elliot spotted the doctor down the corridor and approached her with purposeful strides. "Doctor," he said, his voice low but firm, "does she have to be awake for this? Can't you put her under? She's barely holding it together."
The doctor's expression softened as she glanced toward Olivia's room. "I understand how difficult this is for her," she said gently. "If the procedure requires us to drain an abscess or surgically address the injury, she would absolutely be under general anesthesia. But first, we'll need to do some exploratory imaging and minimally invasive diagnostics to determine the source of the infection. Unfortunately, for those, she'll need to be conscious. We can administer medication to help her relax, but we can't put her fully under unless surgery is necessary."
Elliot's jaw tightened. "You're telling me there's no way to make this easier for her?"
The doctor hesitated before replying, "We'll do everything we can to minimize her discomfort, but we also have to ensure her safety during the process. I promise we'll be as gentle as possible."
Elliot exhaled heavily, nodding once before heading back into the room. Olivia looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with exhaustion.
"What did they say?" she asked softly, her voice brittle.
"They'll do everything they can to make it easier," Elliot said, crouching by her bed again. "If surgery's needed, you'll be put under. But for now, they need to figure out what's causing the infection, and that means you'll have to be awake for the initial tests."
Olivia let out a hollow laugh, though there was no humour in it. "Of course. Of course, I have to be awake for this."
"Liv," Elliot started, but she cut him off.
"No, El." Her voice cracked as tears welled in her eyes again. "I could handle it if it were my ankle. If it were a broken bone or something...normal. But this? It's too much. It's too...intimate. And it's not healing. What if it never heals? What if they keep having to..." She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
Elliot took her hands in his, his grip firm but comforting. "I get it," he said quietly. "I can't pretend to know exactly what you're feeling, but I know it's unfair and horrible, and you don't deserve any of it. But you're not alone, Liv. We'll face whatever happens together. You're not doing this by yourself."
Her lips trembled as she met his gaze. "I just want it to be over, El. All of it. I'm so tired."
"I know," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I know you are. But this is just one more step, Liv. Just one more, and then you can rest. I'll be right there with you, the whole time."
Olivia's fingers tightened weakly around his. She didn't respond, but the faint nod of her head was enough for now.
The imaging and diagnostics had been gruelling. Though they tried to keep Olivia as comfortable as possible, her fever added an extra layer of haze and exhaustion. Each moment stretched interminably as she lay on the cold table under the fluorescent lights. The technicians moved around her with quiet precision, explaining what they were doing in soft, detached tones she could barely register.
Despite the sedatives, every touch and prod sent shivers of unease through her. The pain wasn't unbearable, but the memories it dragged to the surface were. Her body felt like it wasn't hers anymore—a vessel being examined and measured, its autonomy stripped away.
When they returned her to her room, Elliot was there, as she had known he would be. He stood as she was wheeled in, his eyes scanning her for any sign of new distress. Her fever hadn't broken, though the ice packs and medication had lowered it slightly. She was conscious, but her thoughts felt sluggish, her head heavy.
"How'd it go?" Elliot asked softly as the nurse helped her transfer to the bed.
Olivia didn't answer immediately. She pressed her head back into the pillow and closed her eyes. "They think the infection is internal," she murmured finally.
Elliot's jaw tightened, and he nodded, though she couldn't see it. "Did they…?"
"They increased the antibiotics again," Olivia interrupted, her voice flat. "We'll see if it works."
Elliot sat back down in the chair by her bedside, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He wanted to ask more but could see that she didn't have the energy to talk. For now, he would wait.
The quiet was broken by a soft knock at the door.
"Come in," Elliot called, his voice low but wary.
The door opened to reveal Munch and Fin, both wearing expressions of cautious concern. Munch carried a paper bag, its contents obscured.
"Hey, Liv," Fin said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. He stepped inside, hesitating a moment before coming closer. "Figured you might need some cheering up, so we stopped by. Brought you something." He held up the bag with a small smile.
Olivia opened her eyes, blinking sluggishly at the two detectives. "Hey," she said faintly, her lips curling into a weak smile. "Thanks for coming."
Munch moved closer, pulling up a chair and settling into it with his usual quiet efficiency. "You look like hell, but I guess that's better than not looking at all," he said, humour in his voice.
A weak chuckle escaped Olivia's lips, though it quickly turned into a wince. Elliot frowned and shot Munch a look, but Olivia waved him off. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said softly.
Fin handed her the bag, and she peeked inside to find a small assortment of her favourite snacks and a paperback book she had mentioned enjoying once in passing.
"Thought you might want something to pass the time," Munch said.
"Thanks," Olivia murmured, touched by the gesture.
The warmth in the room was short-lived. Munch and Fin exchanged a glance, and Fin cleared his throat. "Listen, Liv…"
Elliot's eyes narrowed immediately, his instincts firing. "What is this?" he demanded, his tone sharp.
"We need to take her statement," Munch said bluntly, his gaze steady but not unkind.
Elliot was on his feet in an instant, his voice rising. "You've got to be kidding me. She just had another procedure. And you want her to relive everything now?"
"Elliot," Olivia said weakly, but he didn't hear her.
"This is insane," he continued, pacing now. "She needs rest. She needs to recover. You can't just barge in here and—"
"Whoa, hold up," Fin interrupted, his tone cool but sharp as he cut through Elliot's outburst. "Didn't seem to bother you when you were all fired up about her getting the rape kit done. You didn't exactly care about her needing rest then, did you?"
Elliot froze mid-step, his back to the group. The words landed like a slap, and Olivia blinked, startled as her gaze flickered between them. Her brow furrowed faintly, a flicker of something unreadable passing across her face.
"That's different," Elliot said quickly, turning around to face them. His voice softened, a touch defensive as he looked at Olivia. "That was about evidence. About making sure he couldn't—" He stopped himself, faltering as he caught the hint of hurt in her expression.
Fin scoffed. "Yeah, man, we all know what it was about. Just don't get righteous now like you're suddenly worried about her reliving it."
"Elliot." Olivia's voice was quiet but firm, drawing his attention. Her tired eyes searched his face, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, the air heavier. "It's okay."
He shook his head, frustration still lingering in his posture. "It's not," he muttered, his gaze softening as it landed on her. "I just—I don't want you to push yourself when you don't have to."
Her fingers twitched weakly against the blanket as she sighed, the faintest edge to her voice. "You didn't mind me pushing myself when it came to that kit."
Elliot winced, visibly caught off guard. "That's not—Liv, that's not fair. I wasn't trying to—" He stopped, exhaling hard. "I just didn't want him to get away with it. That's all that mattered to me then. I swear, I didn't mean for it to come at your expense."
She watched him for a beat, as if weighing his words, before her expression softened. "I know," she said quietly. "But you need to let me make this call. I need to do this—for me. For the case. This doesn't end until he's caught, and I need to help make that happen."
Elliot's throat tightened as he looked at her, shame flickering across his face before he sat back down, his voice gruff. "Fine. But I'm staying."
Fin, still leaning back in his chair, gave Elliot a pointed look. "Good. Maybe next time you'll think before you start flipping tables."
Elliot shot him a brief glare but didn't respond, his focus settling back on Olivia. Her fingers relaxed slightly against the blanket, and though her exhaustion was clear, there was something solid in the way she held herself. She was stronger than he'd ever given her credit for—and he wasn't about to forget it again.
"You don't have to stay," Olivia said, though her voice lacked conviction. "You're…you're not gonna want to."
"I'm staying," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for debate.
Munch and Fin nodded, pulling their chairs closer. As they prepared to begin, Elliot sat back, his heart pounding. He didn't want to hear what she'd been through, didn't want to imagine it, but he reminded himself that she had lived it. The least he could do was bear witness.