Posted this and then deleted because my edit notes were still in here. Haha sorry about that!
This is pretty much just part 2 to chapter 7, not much going on at all as we wrap up rescue day. I appreciate the patience and all of you who have stuck around for this story despite several long delays. Thank you for all of the feedback - comments/reviews really do make this worth it!
Notes: I'm not a doctor, I google medical stuff and try to make it slightly realistic, but I'm not perfect and sometimes realism is boring.
Enjoy!
May 24th 2013 - Long Island Community Hospital, Long Island, New York - 6:35pm
A few eventful hours after arriving at the hospital, Olivia was retrieved from triage and taken to her private room on the general patient ward. It was much nicer than Elliot expected, located at the end of a hallway without a lot of hustle and bustle around to disturb Liv.
Elliot was by her side each step of the journey, watching intently as the staff moved her into her new bed, appreciating the careful way they handled her, how they spoke in soft tones, how they told her what they were going to do before they did anything, even the small things. They were cognizant of her trauma as well as her injuries, and he was relieved that she seemed to be in capable hands.
He was hovering a bit, and usually Liv hated that, but they seemed to have a fragile understanding that he was allowed to cling to her now, just for a little while. Maybe Liv needed it too, maybe she needed his overwhelming steady presence by her side as she was poked and prodded. It was familiar, he knew, if not a little infuriating to her the way that his eyes tracked her, tracked the nurses, scanned each space, took inventory of everyone and everything. Usually she'd snap at him for being so intense, tell him that she could take care of herself. And she could, he knew, but she shouldn't have to all the time.
Most importantly, Liv did not tell him to fuck off, so he would not. He would act as appointed bodyguard until she told him to stand down (and possibly even after, if he was being honest with himself).
It wasn't completely necessary in this instance, her team seemed to be competent enough. The senior nurse in charge of Liv's care was an older heavier-set woman with dark brown hair and baby blue scrubs and a smile that put him just a tiny bit more at ease the moment she'd introduced herself to them.
"Nurse Jillian, but you two can call me Jill."
It was immediately clear to Elliot that Jill was special, that she liked her job and her patients, took pride in her work, and had been tasked by someone much higher up than herself to oversee Liv's care. The hospital was pulling out all the stops for the injured cop, giving her the good nurses and the nice room, real VIP treatment for a little hospital on Long Island.
As they should, he thought, maybe they'll find some better food for her.
Jill hooked Liv up to a vital monitor machine as a male nurse hooked her up to an IV. Despite the constant movement and noise from her caregivers, Liv's eyes slipped shut every few seconds, and Jill would ask her questions to keep her awake.
Her answers were short, and a bit nonsensical at times, and he wished she would change her mind about the damned shower and let herself sleep because she clearly needed rest more. His instincts screamed at him to kick them all out, shut off the lights and make her close her eyes, but he knew how badly she needed to feel clean, how important it was for assault victims to wash away the feelings of their attack, and he knew that Jill was only keeping her awake so she could have that. The shower was a way for Liv to reclaim her power, so he stood by as they woke her up over and over again, and didn't say a word about it.
"How do you like the room, Olivia? We picked this one because this end of the hall is usually quieter, and it has the extra bed in case you want your husband to stay." Jill said with a wink as she fiddled with one of the machines at Liv's bedside.
The laugh that burst out of the other woman was louder than he thought her capable of in her sleepy, subdued state, and the volume of it made it feel more insulting to Elliot than she'd probably intended it to be.
"We're not married," she emphasized, looking at the nurse and, infuriatingly, not at Elliot, "we used to work together."
We used to work together.
That's how she was choosing to label him - a former coworker. Not her baby's father, not a friend, not her partner. He knew he was overly tired, too sensitive, not thinking clearly anymore, but it hurt his feelings that she'd diminished him to such a meaningless role in her life. Former coworkers were people you dreaded running into at the grocery store, not the people whose hands you grip onto when you're in the hospital, whose moods you can read with a simple glance, whose babies you choose to bring into the world. He was more than that to her, dammit. Much more, and he knew that she knew that.
He stood silently next to her, waiting for her to say something more, waiting for her to correct herself, to pull the knife out of his chest.
But Liv instead closed her eyes and started to drift off again.
"It's more than that." He insisted in an almost whiny tone that he hated. He was feeling uncharacteristically insecure, like he had to stake a claim on her, like everyone had to know that he was something to Olivia Benson, something significant, more than some lousy former cop she used to work with.
She laughed again, a harsh joyless laugh, and simply said, "Okay, Elliot."
Elliot. Not El. It was cold, and he surely deserved it, but something about that condescending "Elliot" pushed him off of the short cliff's edge he'd been hanging from since he'd almost kicked Cragen's ass in her triage room. The tension had built and built and built, and would now burst out of him in destructive little spurts until he lost. his. fucking. mind.
All of his effort to be sweet and loving and kind to Liv, to be the man that she needed for once, to stay calm, to let her get her digs in.. all of that flew out the window as he spat his next words out into the universe before he could think better of them.
"I put that baby in there."
Everyone in the room went quiet, and Elliot's stomach fell to the floor as he realized what he'd said.
Without missing a beat, Liv locked eyes with him and sneered, "yes, I remember that."
Fuck, he thought, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck is wrong with me?
For a second, just the briefest second, he'd let himself forget how that baby was really made. He was strutting around like a peacock for no reason, like he'd had her, like he'd given her a baby in a normal way, not during a fucked up life or death situation that they were both still traumatized from. He was sure Liv didn't want to be reminded of the fucking warehouse hours after she'd almost bled to death from another horror.
God, he was stupid, a stupid fucking bastard.
"Liv, I didn't-"
"-stop-"
"No, I'm sorry, I-"
"-Stop," she demanded, voice firmer than he'd heard all day, "I'm tired, you're tired, my nurses don't need to know all of our business. Just stop talking, Elliot."
He rubbed his face with both hands, pushing away tears as he mumbled, "Right, right. Sorry Liv, sorry."
He felt like a kicked dog at her admonishment, though he knew he deserved it (and more, so much more). The exhaustion, the comedown from finding her, the residual anxiety of almost losing her and the baby, it was making him crazy and moody and unbearable and stupid. He felt like he couldn't do right by her, like he'd just keep screwing up until she eventually told him to leave.
He hated himself.
But then, mere moments later, Liv's hand was reaching out to him, giving him an out, demonstrating the endless grace she had for him, grace he almost never deserved.
He took it without hesitation, and equilibrium was restored in his body with her touch. The small sigh she huffed out told him that he was on very thin ice.
Nurse Jill smiled at them and said, "You two are gonna keep me on my toes, aren't you?"
She fiddled with Liv's vital monitor one last time, then clapped her hands together and said, "Alright, how about we get some waterproof dressings on you, then we'll get you into a nice warm shower?"
Liv nodded, not resisting as the woman pulled her blankets down to her feet and exposed her bare legs to the air. Elliot felt her tense up and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand to sooth her. He tried not to look down, but could not help but notice that her gown was pulled up a bit, revealing several bandages on her inner thighs that he had not seen before. The wounds were alarmingly high up on her thighs, and he clenched his jaw tightly at the thought of Lewis placing the butt of a lit cigarette on such a private, sensitive part of Liv's body. He wanted to put his fist through a wall at the sight.
He looked away from them quickly and focused his attention back on Liv. There was a knowing look in her eyes. The ice was getting thinner.
She's about to kick me out, she thinks I can't handle this.
"El, why don't you go grab a coffee and call Kathy?"
Dammit.
"Fine right here, Liv." He replied gruffly.
She rolled her eyes at his indignant reply and opened her mouth to argue with him when one of her other nurses, a young man with a name tag reading "Darren," carried a tray of tools to her bedside and accidentally dropped them on her leg. Liv visibly flinched at the unexpected contact and instinctively raised their clasped hands up to her face in a guarding gesture. Her grip was tight, trembling. The heart rate monitor spiked and started to beep aggressively.
Elliot's shattered heart continued to fracture into smaller and smaller pieces somehow.
Darren immediately put his hands up, stepping away from the bed, and apologizing, "Detective Benson, I'm so sorry. My hand slipped."
Liv's breaths were shallow and ragged, and Elliot resisted the urge to pull his hand away from her so he could instead grab her face and make her look at him and tell her to breath, to let her know that she was as safe as she could ever be because he would never let anyone hurt her again.
Instead, he gave her a second to compose herself, watched as the monitors calmed, and her breathing slowed, and she eased their hands back down to her side. She offered a breathy, apologetic smile to Darren and said, "Doesn't take much to startle me these days. Don't worry about it," then turned to Elliot, cheeks flushed red in embarrassment and exhaustion, "You've seen enough today, El. Let me get cleaned up and you can come back to read me a bedtime story."
Elliot saw Jill smile at Liv's words, but he was not as amused by his partner's obvious avoidance tactic.
"I can handle it, Liv." He responded stubbornly, making no attempt to move from his place next to her bed. Their eyes locked and tension flowed between them as Elliot challenged her.
That was what he did - he challenged Liv when no one else had the balls to do it, always had. Sometimes it worked in his favor, sometimes it only served to piss her off more.
She squinted at him, cocking her head the slightest bit and raising a brow, challenging him back.
She may have been exhausted, but she wasn't turning down the fight. The ice cracked.
Elliot felt the assessing eyes of Jill and Darren watching them, waiting to see who would lay down their weapon first. When the silence stretched on and there was no sign that either of them would yield, Jill leaned close to Liv, mouthing something he couldn't hear.
Liv's nostrils flared slightly and she chuckled weakly before shaking her head.
"As much as I would love to see that, we're okay. Could we have the room for a minute?"
Jill regarded Elliot with a warning in her eyes while showing Liv the call button, "You press this and we'll be back in here in 10 seconds flat," then leveled him with another pointed look and motioned for Darren to follow her out.
When they were finally alone again, Liv's bravado faded. The weary way her shoulder's fell made her look tiny and helpless and his chest ached at the sight. Her eyes were more bloodshot than he'd ever seen them and the bags under them were almost black. There were bruises darkening on her face and neck, evidence of injuries he did not yet know about, and her skin was still a sickly pale color that was very unnatural on her. She looked defenseless and beaten down and he could see that the brave face she'd been putting on all day was starting to crack. He knew that he was one of very few people that she would allow to see even a little bit of her vulnerability, and he didn't take that for granted.
"She offered to call security and have them drag you out of here." She told him with a small laugh.
He sighed and gripped her hand tighter, feeling most grounded with the warmth of her skin on his own.
"You told her no." Not a question, but another challenge.
If you really wanted me to go, you could have told them to take me.
"I don't want them to kick you out for the night… I want you to come back." She said quietly, the tiniest twitch of her eye exposing how vulnerable the words made her feel.
He didn't take her candor lightly, offering some back. "I just wanna be here for you, Liv, that's all." He sighed, bringing their hands up to his mouth and kissing her broken knuckles. The gesture crossed some of their boundaries, but he found that he didn't care at that moment. He wanted her to see that the issue was important to him. He didn't want her to send him away to spare him from seeing her injuries because he needed her to know that he could handle all of it, that he would not run away from the hard stuff this time, especially now when everything was hard for Liv.
"I know, El. I know you can handle it," she admitted, voice thick with unshed tears, "but I can't. If you're in here with me, it's like I'm seeing it all through your eyes. It's too much. I just want to pretend I'm somewhere else for a little while, but I can't do that if you're standing here seeing everything he did to me."
He felt like she'd slapped him. He was prolonging her suffering because he was trying to prove something to her, but all she needed from him was a bit of space so she didn't have to see how much her injuries hurt him. He'd gone and made everything about himself again, not even realizing it because he was just inherently selfish when it came to her.
He sucked at being Liv's emotional support, and he added that to the ever growing list of reasons he hated himself.
WIthout further argument, Elliot reached over her and pressed the call button. Nurses Jill and Darren returned to the room in less than 10 seconds, just as promised, regarding him with thinly veiled suspicion as they entered.
Elliot ignored their scrutiny and placed his hand on Liv's shoulder gently, murmuring, "I'll come back at 8, have them page me if you need me before then, I'll be in the cafeteria."
"Thank you, El," She exhaled and leaned into his touch, then recoiled slightly and said, "When you get back, you can shower. You really stink."
–
He reached the cafeteria in less than 5 minutes. To his surprise, there was only one other occupant in the entire space - a man sitting alone, nursing a large cup and staring down at his phone blankly. Elliot grabbed himself a black coffee and sat down at the man's table.
"Why're you still here?" He asked before taking a long swig of the hot drink, burning off all of his taste buds in the process and praying that it would give him enough energy to stay awake until he could return to Liv.
Captain Cragen rubbed a tired hand over his 5 o'clock shadow and sighed. Elliot observed his slumped shoulders and worry-worn face, feeling a great deal of empathy for the man. Liv was like a daughter to him. Her abduction had put him through a Hell that would surely stay with him for the rest of his life.
"I know I should go home but-"
"-it's hard to leave her when she's like this." Elliot finished.
Cragen nodded and took a sip from his coffee before confessing, more to himself than to Elliot, "I sent her home for two damned days. Didn't want to disturb her rest so I didn't bother to call…God, that was stupid. So stupid... But she was running herself ragged on the Lewis case, and I've seen her like that before, you know how Liv can be, but she'd been better about taking care of herself since she found out about the baby... Not with this case though, she was barely sleeping, forgetting to eat until we put food right in front of her… She was too invested in it, Lewis was under her skin in a big way and she was stressed, exhausted, dehydrated. I was worried she would lose the baby if she didn't take it easy," He shook his head, defeated, "So I sent her home, for two days, and I didn't call, and I told Amaro not to bother her… so she could relax." He spit out the last word like it tasted bad on his tongue.
Elliot shifted in his chair uncomfortably. He hated thinking about her in those days without him - pregnant, exhausted, overwhelmed, being looked after by Cragen and the squad instead of him, the one who should have been feeding her and making her rest and keeping rapist scumbags away from her and their kid.
He tensed up at the thought. There was an unstable, violent, maniac inside of him that surfaced at the thought of William Lewis and he was too goddamn tired to keep that part of himself in check.
Cragen did not seem to notice his discomfort, and continued, "The whole time, that bastard had her. And God, we don't even know the extent of it yet."
Elliot clenched his hand around his cup and felt the styrofoam start to cave before he loosened the grip, "I wish he'd been alive when we found her. I wish-" He huffed and shook his head, pushing the words away and taking a deep breath, "When she said that he tried to…" Elliot swallowed hard, feeling a surge of rage and anguish that threatened to choke him, "cut the baby out of her, I almost lost my damned mind."
Cragen's haunted eyes met his, the heaviness of the words settling uneasily between them.
"We probably shouldn't talk about it here, not until after she gives her statement." Cragen declared, suddenly paranoid, glancing around the empty cafeteria. There was no one else in there, but Elliot was relieved to change the subject, fearful of what he might say or do when speaking about the man who'd taken Liv. Cragen lowered his voice and continued, "I'm meeting IAB up here at 3pm tomorrow to conduct a joint interview. Her union rep and Trevor Langan will be with us."
Elliot balked at the mention of the prestigious defense attorney, "Langan? Is that really necessary?"
Cragen shrugged, lowering his voice to an almost imperceptible volume which Elliot had to crane his neck to hear, "I hope not. The brass is lauding her a hero to the press. She took out the perp, saved herself and two civilians while pregnant and injured. It was good police work, I wouldn't be surprised if she ends up with a Combat Cross."
Elliot was confused, "Why hire Langan then?" he pressed, worried that Cragen knew of some greater threat lurking in the shadows.
"I want IAB to know that she has big guns behind her, just in case."
Elliot appreciated the sentiment. There was no way to know how an IAB interview would go until you were in the room. If things went south, if the rats started digging for cheese, Langan could stop the interview or interject on her behalf.
He hoped she wouldn't need his intervention, but it was better safe than sorry, since IAB were a slimy bunch of rat bastards.
Elliot thought back to the final night of the Compton UC and the last IAB interview he'd ever had the displeasure of partaking in - the scrutiny, the overly personal questions full of thinly veiled accusations, the reliving it all for the official record. He loathed the fact that Liv would be subjected to the bullshit after the horrors she'd already faced. She'd almost bled to death, for Christsakes. As far as Elliot was concerned, that fact alone was all the evidence they needed to justify the shooting of William Lewis.
The bastard was rotting in Hell where he belonged.
"They'll want to talk to you too, son." Cragen warned, though Elliot was already prepared for it, " You were first on the scene. When they ask you what you saw, don't spare them the gory details. They need to know that she fought for her life."
...and almost lost it.
Elliot shuddered. He felt suffocated when he thought about her in that tub - her shallow pants of agony, skin so pale it looked translucent, that bloody shirt pressed to her torn flesh. He knew that the details must be included in the official record, but he loathed putting them into words, like giving them life would somehow give them the power to hurt her more.
"I'll tell them." He promised. He would give them every graphic detail, anything to ensure that they would wrap up their investigation quickly and leave Olivia alone. She'd been through enough.
They two sat quietly together for a few more minutes until Cragen spoke again, "When you left that night, after your IAB interview, I didn't think we'd see you again. I can't imagine how you feel coming back to all of this."
Elliot laughed humorlessly, "It's surreal. This time last night, I was ordering pizza for my kids like everything was normal. All the while she…" He stopped. He couldn't say the words, couldn't think about it, couldn't stand one more second of the soul-crushing guilt, "... I can't."
He took a final swig from his coffee and rose from his chair. He gestured to Cragen's cup and the man pushed it toward him. Elliot grabbed both and motioned for Cragen to rise from the table before admitting, "I've thought about it enough for today. I'm sure you have too. It's time for you to go home, Don."
Cragen pulled himself up with a groan and sighed, "I booked a room at the Holiday Inn, too tired to make it back to Manhattan. What's your game plan? You need a ride somewhere?"
Elliot pulled his phone out of his pocket and flashed it at Cragen, "I'm going to turn this back on, see if my wife and kids are still speaking to me, then I'm going back to Liv's room at 8 and I'm gonna shower, pass out in her extra bed and sleep as long as she'll let me."
Cragen's brows lifted, though Elliot wasn't sure that he was surprised. Had anyone actually expected him to leave her all night?
"Does she know that you're staying in her room?" Cragen questioned, a hint of skeptical teasing in his voice.
Elliot half-laughed, "Not sure yet. If she doesn't want me in there, I'll camp out in the cafeteria 'til morning. I'm not leaving this hospital until Liv does."
Cragen placed a hand on his shoulder and shook it firmly, affectionately, "I'm glad you're here, son. I feel like I can leave knowing that she's in good hands. It's gonna be a hard recovery, she's gonna need you for this next part. Not just for the baby, but for herself too."
Elliot nodded solemnly, "I know. I'm not going anywhere."
They navigated through the hallway, following the hanging directional signs until they reached the main door. As the parking lot came into view, Elliot observed with great relief that there was not a single news van remaining.
Good riddance.
The closer they walked to Cragen's car, the more he could feel the other man's hesitation. He understood it, the gravitational pull of Olivia Benson, the need to be close to her, to see her living and breathing in order to keep your sanity.
Cragen grabbed the door handle to open his car, then stopped, turning to look at Elliot with a raw expression of regret, "I sent her home, Elliot. How do I live with that?"
Elliot sighed, leaning against Cragen's car, pausing to rub his palms on his thighs and confessing, "I don't know, Cap. I ask myself the same question, and we aren't the only ones. You saw Amaro, he's a wreck that he didn't check her apartment. Nobody is truly blameless here but Liv. You sent her home, I fucking abandoned her, a judge gave Lewis bail, that lawyer introduced him to her parents. We all had a part to play in the end result. I don't know how we begin to forgive ourselves," he waited for Cragen to argue, or interject, but the man said nothing so Elliot continued, "Problem is, our guilt does nothing to help Liv. If she sees that you're killing yourself over this, she will always try to carry your pain for you. It's in her nature, and it's so easy to just let her take your hurt away and put it on herself, I know that better than anyone. If she tries to do that now, if she tries to ease our guilt, she'll ruin herself, she'll spend all of the energy she should put into getting better into trying to fix us. We can't let her. We have to pull it together for her. You have to pull it together."
Cragen nodded, pulling his car open and plopping down into the seat with a tired 'oof', "You're right. I'll pull it together, she won't need to worry about me. Go get some rest, Elliot. You did good today."
Elliot waved goodbye as Cragen pulled away, then watched as the other man's car weaved through the parking lot, turned onto the main road and eventually drove out of sight.
The last precious drops of energy that Elliot had been milking for hours seemed to evaporate as he found himself alone for the first time in longer than he could remember. God, he was more than tired, more than drained. His body shook with the effort of standing, but he stood still in that spot for a long time as the winds of early summer whipped around his weary body, shadows dancing in his vision that he had a hard time distinguishing as real or not.
After a long minute of dissociation and fatigue, he finally turned to walk back to the hospital, bones crackling with the effort of each step. The smell of freshly cut grass on the breeze hit his nose, sending a wave of nostalgia through him and gooseflesh up his neck and arms.
The scent reminded him of summers at the Queen's house, back when his oldest 4 kids were still little, when there still were more 'tomorrows' than 'yesterdays', and everything in life felt like a possibility. For a split second, he could actually see his old home, see Lizzie and Dickie toddling through the yard with chubby grass-stained ankles, delighted giggles echoing through the neighborhood.
He was sure he was losing it then, the way the memory so vividly filled his head. Surely he was going crazy.
He found a bench by the hospital entrance and plopped down, struggling to keep his eyes open, frantically rubbing his face with his hands. His watch read 7:45pm.
Just a little more time.
He rested his head on the back of the bench and tried not to think about the miserable shower that Liv was taking, tried not to imagine that the pelting water felt like hail on her bruised and aching flesh. She'd been putting on a tough face, but it was clear to anyone with eyes that she was in excruciating pain. Broken arm, burns all over, that fucking gash on her belly, cuts and bruises galore. And no pain meds. She was suffering.
If there was true justice in the world, he thought, he would be allowed to somehow take her pain onto his own flesh and relieve her of her suffering. That would be a start, the first of many steps he would need to take to atone for the fact that he hadn't been there to prevent this, that he'd left her alone and nobody else had called to check on her for two days.
Two fucking days. He would never understand that part. She's fucking pregnant.
He would have called if he hadn't left, if he'd know that she was pregnant, and he would have been there. He would have been in contact with her every single day if he'd known she was pregnant with his baby. He would have been at her door in 30 minutes or less if she suddenly stopped answering his texts and calls. These were indisputable facts.
Maybe Lewis would have shot him dead when he showed up, but at least the gunshots would have alerted one of her neighbors and they would have called it in, and the dispatchers would have seen that it was a cop's address, and they would have sent heavy reinforcements and taken the bastard out before he had the chance to do the worst of it to her.
At least then there would have been a chance that she wasn't cut and burned and starved and tormented. That would have been worth dying for, he thought, well worth dying for.
He would have been there, except he wasn't. He wasn't there at all. He was busy signing a fucking lease on an apartment with Kathy in fucking Little Neck of all places and pretending that Liv never existed and pretending like she'd never meant a damned thing to him. He would pay his penance for that later, much later, when she was ready, when she could handle it, he would lay down at her feet and repent for all of the ways he'd failed her.
Until then, he'd just be there as long as she tolerated him. There wasn't any other option in Elliot's mind.
He glanced at his watch again, impatiently, it was 7:50pm.
Just a little longer.
He powered on his phone to quickly read the messages from his family, wanting to get the task over and done with so he wouldn't have to think about it for the rest of the night. They were either going to hate him or they weren't, waiting to read their messages would not change the outcome.
To his relief, they'd sent him nothing but unconditional love and support. He felt a twinge of guilt that he'd written them off so quickly. Kathy and his daughters were loving, nurturing, good-hearted women and they deserved more credit than he'd given them.
Kathleen - Thank god she's okay! The news said she was in critical condition.
Kathleen - Give her a hug from me please.
Kathy - Thank you for the update, we've been praying for her. Do either of you need anything?
Maureen - Can we send flowers to the hospital or something? Tell her we're glad she's okay.
Lizzie - I knew you'd find her. 3 Are you doing okay, dad?
He was relieved at the grace and kindness that his wife and daughters were showing him during such an impossibly difficult time. He hadn't realized how afraid he was of their responses until he saw that they didn't seem to hate him after all. He'd needed their support more than he'd let himself admit.
Or maybe they were hiding it well, he couldn't be sure. Dickie hadn't actually responded at all, so the jury was still out on him, too, but Elliot guessed he'd find out everyone's true feelings later once the dust settled. Until then, he could breathe a little easier that they weren't writing him off for good.
As he typed out a quick response, tears splashed from his eyes onto the screen and obscured his vision. He hadn't realized he was crying, his face was numb from exhaustion.
Not critical anymore but she has a long recovery ahead. You can send flowers if you want, Mo - I'm sure she would like them. She's in room 350. I can't think of anything we need right now. I'm doing okay, just need to sleep. Turning phone off, call hospital if you need me. Love you.
That would have to be enough for now, it was all he had to give.
–
As promised, he returned to Liv's room promptly at 8pm. He knocked twice, gently, waiting longer than he'd expected for someone to respond. When Jill finally opened the door, she slid out into the hallway with him rather than letting him inside. Concern filled his gut as she gave him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"What happened?" He whispered, tone laden with dread.
He knew he shouldn't have left.
Jill sighed, "The shower was very taxing on Olivia's body. She's okay now, but she did pass out while we were getting her back into bed. We've got her on oxygen. Her heart rate and blood pressure dropped, so we've put fetal monitors on her as well. The OBGYN is not necessarily worried about your daughter, but Olivia has not felt any movement since she was admitted, so we're just going to keep a closer eye on the baby out of an abundance of are all pretty common setbacks after blood loss and injuries like hers, we just didn't want to catch you off guard when you walk in there and see her hooked up to all of the machines. It can be a scary sight for a loved one. She's still doing remarkably well, all things considered."
The words bounced around in his head and he felt like he might scream. Despite the woman's professional competence and reassurance, panic gripped at him and his vision wavered for a second. Elliot grabbed onto the wall behind him, hands trembling slightly as he asked, as calm as he possibly could given the circumstance, "And why didn't anyone call me?"
"Honey, we paged you 15 minutes ago."
Fuck me.
The words were like a sucker punch to the gut. Elliot rubbed his face in frustration and confessed, "dammit, I walked her boss out and spent a few minutes outside. I'm sorry. God, that was stupid. I should have left my number."
His spiral of blame and self-hatred hit an all-time high, and he wondered how Liv could even stand the sight of him, why she was even entertaining his presence at her bedside. He'd let her down at every single turn.
Jill must have seen the way he was tearing himself apart and was taking pity on him. She shook her head and assured him, "You're only human, and she really is okay, she's been asking for you. I think she's waiting for that bedtime story, come on, put on a smile before you see her."
She led him back into the room, and his assessing eyes immediately landed on Liv. He first noticed her exposed belly with 2 thick bands wrapped around it, wires coming off of them leading to a large machine at her bedside - the fetal monitors, he knew, he'd seen those many times when Kathy was pregnant, but not usually until she was further along. Liv was only 25 weeks. He worried about their little girl, and wondered how much more the small baby could possibly endure while she was still tucked away in her mother's belly.
Under and around the bands were fresh bandages, including the big one. He knew it must be uncomfortable for her to have those bands over her wounds, but he knew Liv wouldn't complain no matter how bad it felt. Those monitors were for the baby, and Liv would do anything for the baby, she'd already proven that.
Her eyes were half open, hair was damp, clean and free of tangles, and she sported several new hospital bracelets including a bright yellow one that said "FALL RISK" in big letters. The haunting scent of cigarettes and vodka no longer lingered in the air around her, but she was paler than she'd been when he'd left the room, paler and more subdued.
She offered him a ghost of a smile, and he could have sworn that he saw her relax just a little that he was back in her space.
"Not as bad as it looks, I swear," she insisted unconvincingly, voice weak and crackly as she teased him, "and wasn't it worth it? I smell much better than you now."
The fact that she was awake and joking brought him so much relief he could have sobbed. He took the bait, did an exaggerated whiff of his armpit and replied, "it doesn't take much for that. I'm a little ripe."
She laughed, but her voice was so worn and scratchy that it was practically silent. He tried to laugh too but found that he couldn't. His mouth was stuck in a frown, his brow furrowed with concern that he could no longer mask. The worry he felt for her would put him in an early grave, he was sure of it.
He had to remind himself of the lecture he'd just given Cragen. His soul, selfish little thing it was, wanted to pour his grief into Liv, to just lay down next to her and bury his face in her hair and full body sob into her, to relieve himself from some of the fear and worry and guilt and pain and love that weighed on him so heavily that he felt he might break under it.
No, he wouldn't do that. He couldn't. He was going to be the strong one, he'd already promised himself.
"Go shower, El. Bathrooms all yours."
He shook his head and settled into the chair next to her, soothing, "I will in a minute. I wanna sit with you for a bit," he grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together, holding her one hand with both of his, "Shower was rough?"
She closed her eyes and a small moan escaped her lips as she nodded slightly, "A little… I just wanted to be clean."
Her voice was so weak, so soft. It disquieted his soul, reminded him of when he'd first found her in that bathtub.
"Do you feel better now?" He asked hopefully, "Was it worth it at least?"
Her heavy eyelids opened and she looked at him with a sleepy openness that felt very intimate for them, breathing out, "Yes. I needed to wash it away. And so do you," she thumbed his fingernails softly, "my blood's still in your nails. Go wash it away. You'll feel better too."
He hummed, "I'll sit here 'til you fall asleep, Liv. Then I will." He pressed his lips to her hand and rested it against his cheek.
"Mmm okay… sleep here after. I already warned Jill that you snore like a freight train. She's going to suffocate you with a pillow for me."
He laughed, her humor lifting some of the pressure from his chest. She was still Liv. She was still alive.
"Good, I don't want to disturb your beauty sleep."
She mumbled a few things he didn't understand, eyes closed, then he watched as her chest rose and fell, slower and slower, as she drifted into what he could only hope was a peaceful slumber.
Though he'd promised her that he would shower once she was asleep, he had a hard time walking away. Maybe he was delirious, but he couldn't stop looking at her like this, breathing and peaceful and safe and pregnant with his kid. She was beautiful.
He's always known that Liv was a beautiful woman, he wasn't blind. But he'd never let himself consider just how beautiful she was. As he sat at her bedside, he took her in like it was his first time really seeing her - the soft pout of her lips, how they frowned slightly as she slept; the hard angles of her jaw, the slight curl of her dark hair, the full lashes fanned out on her cheeks. She was the sum of all of the beautiful things he's ever seen, she was ethereal, she was the sun and the moon and the stars and the whole fucking sky.
And there was their baby, his and Liv's…God, he couldn't get enough of that thought.
He didn't give a fuck how that baby was made, it didn't matter. That was their baby, Liv was making that little girl for them, and she was perfect.
She was the answer to a prayer that Liv had been praying for as long as Elliot had known her.
He stared at the bump that wasn't yet huge but was definitely there, not mistakable for anything but a baby belly, and he pictured the resilient little being that survived being tortured before she was even born. He loved her. God, how he loved that little baby.
Eventually, when he'd nearly lost his battle with sleep, he peeled himself away from her bedside and climbed into the hottest shower he could stand. He scrubbed at his nails for a long time, not wanting Liv to have to see her blood in them again, and let the hot spray pound his flesh until he almost fell asleep while standing.
When he finally felt clean enough to be in Liv's presence again, he dressed himself in a pair of green scrub pants that Jill had left for him and snuck back into the room, falling into the extra bed, and was out before his head hit the pillow.
Well, May 24th is finally over. Thank goodness. I hope the slower pace of the story doesn't make anyone mad. She's going to be in the hospital a few days and I still plan to cover quite a bit for that time period.
If you're so inclined, please leave a comment. I love discussing the plot and the drama and the Bensler with you wonderful people. I'd also love to know what your favorite part of the chapter was to give me an idea of what works well in the story.
As always, thank you for the kudos, the comments, the reviews (if you're reading this on ), the follows, etc 3 much love until next time.