Rules and Ruins (MA) ~ SVU ~ Chap 9
So...at least it's only drifted to the second page of 'Most Recent'...yeah, just barely. Haha. You can thank my my neverending cold/flu and the fact that they asked me to go home from work with this update. Also the letter 'L'...I don't know why.
Only two chapters left.
Enjoy!
Chapter 9: Dull Gold Heart
Song: Dull Gold Heart by Band of Skulls
Click to viewShe’s in the middle of a dream, happily tripping through the surf in a surreal paradise. The birds are chittering loudly in the trees, the sand is soft and warm, and she just knows that she has no place to be. She looks both ways on the beach, seeing how isolated it is…trying to judge whether or not someone would see her if she took off her clothes and went in the water in her bra and panties. She doesn’t sense anyone for miles, and the water feels so cool on her bare feet.
Her shoulders bear the brunt of the sun that is shining steadily down on her, so she tries to maneuver herself into a position that will hide them, however momentarily, from the brutal noontime assault. One final look up and down the sand as far as she can see. Alone enough, she thinks. Her camisole comes first, fluttering lightly onto a towel she doesn’t remember putting down. Snoopy’s big head is featured front and center, and she wonders what would have compelled her to by such a silly beach accessory. She starts to pull down her shorts next, undoing the clasp without a care in the world. She knows she knows where she is, but she can’t quite put a name to the facts rattling around in the back of her mind.
“That’s far enough,” a hand clamps down on her shoulder, putting a stop to her forward progression.
She can’t turn, the grip on her like iron. She struggles a bit, but her efforts seem futile-her strength gone the way of her clothing, fallen forgotten on the beach. The hand that was just holding her in place is now clamped around her neck, pushing her forward until she’s on her knees in the surf.
“What the...?” Before she can finish the thought, her face is submerged in the harsh, gritty water; sand, froth and general debris are stinging her eyes and filling her mouth. She is pulled back out and sputters up the worst it, trying to push back at the hand around her throat.
Suddenly a form fills the sky, casting a shadow over the area around her. The grip on her loosens enough for her to look up and identify the shape as a helicopter. She wonders how she didn’t notice the noise of it before it was upon them, because now the sound is so loud she feels deaf to everything else. She tries to lean back and realizes the hand is gone; and a look behind her reveals that no one is even on the beach anymore.
She falls back on the sand, sprawled out, suddenly exhausted. She doesn’t feel curious about who was there, or about who is piloting the helicopter into her serene landscape; she just closes her eyes and refuses to let herself care what is happening. The heat from the sun is dissipating, her skin cooling as it rests, idle and lethargic on the large beach towel.
Beat, beat, beat. Beat, beat, beat. Beat, beat, beat. The sound seems to come from everywhere, pressing her into the sand. She warily opens her eyes and sees that the helicopter has almost reached its destination-which is apparently her small stake of beachfront property. She wants to move (she really does), but she can’t muster the energy. She just waits and watches as the landing skids get closer and closer; all the while, the beat of the blades makes her senses shut down, only responding to the annoying patter.
Beat, beat, beat.
“Liv!”
She feels the water lap quietly at her feet and the tickle of cool is almost more annoying than the loud rap of noise pressing down on her.
Beat, beat, beat.
“Liv!! Open the damn door.”
She comes awake then, suddenly, almost reeling with the loss of her stretch of beach. A shiver runs through her and she pulls the throw tighter around her shoulders.
“Fuck,” she says into the dark. Only one light is on in the corner of the kitchen nook and has the irresistible urge to run around the apartment turning on every one. She knows who is at her door, but she feels at a loss as to what to do, or what to feel. The hinges of her door rattle again with the continued assault and she rises stiffly, shuffling quietly towards the door. She has the urge to yell back, but when she opens her mouth, a scratchy moan comes out and she changes her mind.
“What the hell, asshole,” she chokes out as the door swings open, not quite with the power she wants behind the term of endearment. “Are you trying to get my neighbors to call the cops?”
“I’ve been knocking for ten goddamn minutes,” he huffs back, looking beyond her into the apartment.
She levels a glare at him and waits for him to meet her gaze again. “He’s not here.” He looks sheepish for a second, then smug. The urge to slug him is so strong she wraps her hand tighter around the blanket to keep from following through.
“You weren’t answering,” he says, trying to bring the focus back to her. “I was getting worried.”
“Bully for you. Don’t do it again.” She doesn’t let her glare recede.
He looks momentarily shocked, then amused. “You gonna invite me in?”
“What for?”
“Liv,” he leans into her space. “I’m in the hallway here. C’mon, let me in.”
“I’m tired, Elliot. Can we do this-whatever it is-tomorrow?”
“I just need a minute. I just…” he pauses then, noticing her neck when the blanket slips from her shoulders. “Jesus.” His fingers reach out and gently trace over the bruising he sees there.
She doesn’t flinch; doesn’t move her eyes from his face; doesn’t let him see how his touch is affecting her. She just stands and lets his fingers roam over the spot.
“I’m fine.” Her soft voice seems to break his spell.
“Always are,” he lets his hand drop away, but stays firmly in the doorway, not allowing her to close it on him.
“You gonna tell me you were just in the neighborhood?” Her eyebrow quirks, in that very Olivia way, and she finally breaks his gaze.
“’Course.”
She walks away from him and goes back over to the couch. He takes it as the most inviting gesture he’s likely to get, closes the door behind him and follows over to where she settles. Leaning slightly on the arm opposite her, Elliot watches Olivia try to ignore him as she watches TV. Some idiotic entertainment “news” show is on and the sound is almost down, so he knows she has no interest in anything but making him uncomfortable enough to leave.
She should know he isn’t afraid of their silences.
She glances his way from the corner of her eye and hesitates when she notices he is looking right at her. “What?” She fidgets under his scrutiny.
“You okay,” he asks quietly.
“Why are you here, Elliot?”
“Olivia…”
“No,” her voice is firm as she rises from the couch, “I’m done with this tonight. I’m fine. I just wanna get some sleep.”
“Liv.” He looks so vulnerable, she is thrown a little.
She takes a deep breath. “Look, I appreciate…”
“Fuck your appreciation, Liv,” he isn’t loud, and the quiet way he curses shocks her as much as anything. “Fuck pushing me away and telling me your fine.”
“Fuck you, too.” She isn’t looking at him, and her comeback seems petulant at best.
He takes a few steps forward. She doesn’t step back, but still won’t meet his eyes.
He gets a little further into her space. “I’m on your side, no matter what you think. I’m here even if you don’t want me.” He puts his hand on her arm. “I’m here.”
She feels the water starting to backlog behind her eyelids; and blinks several times, trying to keep things at bay. “Why isn’t me telling you ‘I’m fine’ enough?”
“It would be,” he rubs his palm up and down her arm, not letting her pull away-like he can feel she wants to do. “If you actually ever meant it as anything other than go away…it’d be enough.”
She swallows a gulp of air and pries his fingers from her. “Lock up on your way out.” She heads towards her bedroom.
“No.”
She rolls her eyes and stops in her tracks. She won’t turn around though; overly conscious of her desire to give him things when he asks like this, she can’t bring herself to give him the leverage of their eye contact.
“El, please.”
“No, I’ll let you get some sleep soon; but we’re gonna talk a minute first.”
“About what? What do you need to say? You can see that there’s nothing wrong with me that a little sleep and time won’t cure. You did your duty as my partner.” She turns but looks out the window, rather than at him. “Tom isn’t here, so you don’t have anyone to scare away.”
He smirks at that. “I’m not trying to scare ‘em away.” He pauses and the humor is gone from his face. “I just know they’re not right for you.”
“Why? How do you know they aren’t? You never even give them a chance.”
“I don’t need to.”
“That’s mature.” She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes again.
Elliot takes a breath and moves in on her again; screws his courage to whatever place he can find. “I don’t do it out of some misguided sense of partnerly duty; or because their bad guys; or because I think you can’t take care of yourself.”
She looks at him then, a plea in her eyes to just keep talking like this…to keep being honest with her. As much as she says she wants him to go and pushes him away when he asks about her, she’s burns with want for him to just keep talking to her like she matters. She’s never wanted to seem needy with him, but deep in her heart she feels the heady rush of being the center of his thoughts, no matter how long it lasts.
“And it’s not because of some overwhelming urge to be a dick to every guy who talks to you.” A laugh bubbles up and out before she can help it. “Although I do get that urge a lot.” He smiles then, too.
“It’s just...” he pauses and runs a hand over his hair. The last swirls of alcohol have left him, his energy walking here in the cold is fading in the heat of her apartment and he is starting to feel warm and sleepy and foolish. No. He can’t let himself slide out of this now. He knows what he wants and, God help him, how stupid he was to ever let fear make him falter. He won’t let another day go by without her knowing what he wants.
She moves a little closer, her posture loosening as she goes. “It’s just what?”
“That none of them are me.”
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tbc