L&O: SVU fic: Blank 1
Ok, last one for now, but sorry it's a long one...
Blank
Jezyk
Spoilers: Anything through season 9 is fair game.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, I’d still be writing and they’d still be getting paid. Doesn’t sound so bad now, does it?
Chapter One
She could hear nothing beside the sound of her own breath, coming in hard pants. Her lungs were crying out for her to stop running, but she ignored them. She had no choice. Concentrating on her aching legs took her mind off her pained lungs. No matter what kind of shape she was in, a twenty minute sprint after a man with several inches on her took everything she had to give.
She would have happily abandoned her pursuit, turned her lead over to another detective for a few minutes while she recovered. But she’d lost Elliot at the last turn, several blocks back - the perp was a skinny, weasley, wiry sort of guy who’d shimmied through a chained fence just a second before Elliot would have caught him. Elliot was without question the faster of the partners, but Olivia was skinnier and had no trouble continuing the chase when Elliot looked for another way around, since the barbed wire prevented even his second choice of scaling it.
Olivia was also perfectly willing to forever give up any notion of fashion, swearing off ever wearing heels again, regardless of how Elliot would tower over her, provided her feet would stop screaming in pain with each pounding stride.
None of her physical pain really mattered, she reasoned. She’d be able to stop soon enough. She’d get a few gulps of air and have a nice long ride back to the precinct in the cruiser with her shoes off while she ignored Elliot’s cracks about how jeans and sneakers were a much better choice.
She was only a few feet behind the perp, a disgusting, perverted, sicko with a penchant for handcuffs and toddlers. She even told herself it was better that she apprehend him than Elliot because Elliot’s rage tended to get the better of him when kids were involved and she really wasn’t in the mood to get a lecture about police brutality from Cragen.
She was in excellent shape, prided herself on being so, because of that very situation. Because deep down she resented that Elliot was taller and faster and stronger simply because he was a man. And she suspected that she would let a bit of that fury out on the perp as soon as she caught him. She was sure to catch him too, she knew, because after such a long, unforgiving pace, he’d darted into a building on the riverfront, a sure sign he was getting tired.
Her adrenaline would carry her through to the end, allowing her the last bit of strength to prevail when the creep’s own strength would leave him.
She lifted her radio, breathlessly spitting out the best directions she could to Elliot and the uniforms who were trying to locate them. She could hear their sirens getting closer in response to her words as she slowed her steps. Her boots were nearly silent on the concrete when she crept through the door into the dark building. She knew she needed to be careful, following blind and without immediate backup. But he had only had a few seconds head start on her and she expected he would be looking to hide and recover from the run rather than start a fist fight with her.
She thought wrong.
For a moment it seemed the darkness of the warehouse suddenly reached out to grab her. It was in slow motion as she heard a rush of wind by her right ear. And then something big and hard and unyielding slammed into her head.
She didn’t feel it when she hit the ground, but she knew she had. There was utter darkness around her, so complete that she couldn’t even tell if her eyes were opened or closed. An unmerciful throbbing pain in her head brought tears to her eyes. Despite her wounded condition and the exhaustion, she tried to get her bearings.
She heard nothing. Nothing at all.
Nothing to tell her what was going on.
Nothing to tell her where she was.
She allowed herself a moment of silent panic, eventually hearing the sirens which revealed the police presence close by. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to scream. She was going to keep herself under control.
It was only a moment later when the darkness was invaded by sunlight. The volume of the sirens grew by leaps and bounds as the doors were propped opened by the uniformed officers. She watched them from her position on the floor as one of them turned to call to someone she couldn’t see.
“She’s here, Detective.”
A moment later, a dark shadow filled the doorway. “Liv?”
She realized she should get up and started to lift herself off the ground. By the time she’d made it to her elbows, the shadow was beside her.
His hand settled against her back, helping her to a sitting position. “What happened?”
Shaking her head only made it hurt, she discovered. “Got hit with something.” The wooden beam next to her appeared to be the culprit; the blood smeared along the side was the dead giveaway.
“Let’s get you up.” He turned away, motioning to one of the crowds of officers milling around. “Radio for a bus.”
The younger man nodded. “Already done. They’re on the way.”
He turned back to her. “Need help?” His face was slightly suspicious when she nodded, but he offered his hands to her anyway.
She smiled gratefully, letting him support a good portion of her weight. “Thanks.” Immediately on standing, she swayed a little.
“You ok there?” His hand pressed against her back, helping to steady her.
“I’m a little dizzy, actually. I’d like to sit down.” She expected her words would be met with sympathy or support or at least agreement.
Instead, he stared at her. “What?”
“Never mind. It’s ok.” She went to take a step, found that it was more difficult than she’d expected, and reached out to grab hold of the closest officer.
But his hands closed around her waist, keeping her on her feet. “Hey, I’ve got you.”
Irritated, but dependent on him to stand, she reluctantly tried to smile. “Thanks.”
He led her to the steps by the door, lowering her to rest on the top one. “The bus’ll be here in a minute, Liv.” She looked at him to nod and his eyes caught on something. His hand grazed her chin, slowly reaching up to the side of her head. “Damn, he nailed you, didn’t he?”
She winced when his fingers found what she knew was probably a nasty lump. “Apparently.”
“It’s probably just a concussion. We’ll get you looked at and then get you home.” He stayed beside her, his shoulder pressing against hers. “Ok?”
She nodded, knowing it was a lie. She felt guilty for it as soon as she did. He was being nice to her, taking care of her and she was repaying him by lying. Her face turned toward him, carefully studying his until he turned to look at her. “Sorry.”
He smiled, a warmth coming to his incredibly bright eyes. “For what?”
She met his stare, feeling a frightening unfamiliarity and emptiness when she did. “Who are you?”
Chapter Two
She had no idea silence could be so loud.
The man who’d been so kind and helpful to her said nothing. He just stared at her.
She sighed, suspecting he wasn’t just some cop who’d come looking for her. Not that it would have made sense, considering that she really had no idea what she was doing that had resulted in her getting hit with a piece of wood.
His shock wore off, his face twisting between concern and anger. “You’re kidding, right? Tell me you’re kidding.”
She didn’t know what to say. She looked down, noticing the shiny badge clipped to her waist for the first time. Pulling it loose, she held it up and ran her fingers over it. “So I guess I know you, huh?”
“Please tell me this is the most un-amusing joke you’ve ever played on me.” His eyes searched hers. “I swear to God if this is a joke, I’m going to hurt you.”
She was mesmerized by his face, watching emotions dance across it. He was attractive, very much so, and she was glad that she knew him well enough for him to be worried. Shaking her head, she averted her eyes. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to stare at him, even if he was handsome.
His hand touched her chin, tilting her face up towards his again. “You’re dead serious, aren’t you?”
She nodded, reaching up to move his hand. Seeing a ring on his left hand and none on her own, she realized it wouldn’t be right to let him touch her like that. A siren called her attention away and she looked up to see an ambulance pulling up among the police cars. “That’s for me, right?”
He nodded, automatically reaching to help her. A tight, uncomfortable smile locked in place when she tripped and fell against his chest. “Are you still dizzy or did you forget how to walk?”
She grumbled at herself, embarrassed for needing so much help with something so simple. “I can walk just fine. It’s the damn ground that keeps spinning.”
The tight smile spread suddenly into a full, genuine one. “That sounds like my Liv.”
Her brow furrowed and she stumbled again. “Your Liv?” If that were the case, she was the other woman. She had no idea what sort of person she was, but she already didn’t like herself.
He looked uncomfortable as he scanned the area for any possible witnesses. “I - uh - I meant -“ He stopped and cleared his throat as though that might hide how flustered he was. “You’re my partner. That’s what I meant.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Uh huh. Sure. Whatever you say.” She didn’t know what to make of the distress on his face, so she ignored it. He was too protective, too worried, too entrenched in her personal space for partnership to cover it. She filed it away to take up with him when she got her memory back.
As they approached the ambulance crew, one of the men stepped forward. “We got a call about an injured officer?”
Liv raised her hand uncomfortably. “Somebody hit me with something.”
Her partner took out his phone and started to dial, even while helping her into the ambulance. “Something being a two by four. And she neglected to mention that she can’t remember anything.”
The phone in his hand connected and the other man’s voice was so loud everyone in the bus could hear it. “What’s the problem? Do you have him in custody?”
Grimacing, he looked at Liv. “No, cap, he attacked Liv, knocked her out.”
His voice was softer, but Olivia could still hear every word. She wondered why she hadn’t ever mentioned to him that none of his conversations were private, but she thought it might have something to do with the woman she was the other woman to. Maybe Liv liked to listen in. She was sickened by the thought, but she listened to the other man’s words anyway. “Is she ok?”
He grimaced again. “No. She doesn’t know who I am.”
There was another period of dead silence, something Olivia was beginning to suspect meant no one believed her. Maybe Liv was a liar too. “Is this some kind of a joke?”
“No, cap, seriously, she has amnesia or something. The bus just got here. I’ll keep you posted.” He closed the phone and tuned back into the conversation between Olivia and the medic.
“So you have amnesia?”
Olivia shrugged. “It would appear that way.”
“But you know what amnesia is?”
Olivia glared at her partner, somehow instinctively knowing she did not like medics talking to her. “I’m injured, not retarded.” He snickered, alerting Olivia to the fact that a lot of her personality was clearly inherent rather than learned.
“I’ve never worked with amnesia before. Despite what the soaps would have you believe, it’s really very uncommon.”
Olivia tried to smile. “Lucky me.”
“Do you know your name?”
She jerked her thumb at her partner. “He called me Liv.”
The medic nodded. “How about your last name?”
She shrugged. “Not a clue.”
“What’s his name?”
Olivia shrugged. “He’s my partner.”
The medic looked intrigued. “Do you remember that or did he tell you?”
Her eyes darted toward her partner, still curious as to his name, but thinking she might be able to put one over on him. His eyes were locked on hers and his head slowly nodded. Nope, he wasn’t a sucker, that was for sure. Reluctantly, she told the truth. “He told me.”
“Do you know the date?” When his question was meant with another shrug, the young man tried again. “The year? Month? Anything?”
She rolled her eyes and turned away, watching the handsome face of the man beside her contort with worry. She reached out and took his hand. “It’s ok. I’m fine.”
He shook his head. “You’re not fine, Liv.”
“Sure I am. I just can’t remember anything.”
“And you can’t walk either.”
She grinned, amazed that her grin spread immediately onto his face. “I told you I can walk.”
He nodded, unable to wipe the smile off. “Right, it’s the ground that’s spinning.”
Clearing his throat, the medic insinuated himself back in the conversation. “Can you give me any biographical info? Your age, birthday, where you were born, your mother’s name?”
She tried for a long moment, but came up with nothing. “No, nothing, but yes, I do know what biographical means. Don’t ask me how cause I don’t remember that either.”
He moved on then, examining her and prodding the painful lump on the side of her head. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but the ER docs can tell you for sure.”
She shook her head, almost sick at the throbbing that accompanied the movement. “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I just want to go home.”
The medic smiled, a condescending, conceited smile. “Do you know where home is?”
Her face fell and she swallowed hard. “No.” She looked at her partner. “But you probably know, right?”
He shook his head. “Don’t even try it with me. You’re going to the hospital.”
“I know I don’t like hospitals. Does that count?” She didn’t know him well enough to not be hopeful.
“No, it doesn’t because no one likes hospitals.”
“I don’t like you either.” She turned away, crossing her arms over her chest.
He leaned over, snagging her hand and squeezing it. “You’re going to be fine, Liv.”
Comforted by the gesture, she left her hand resting in his. “Whatever you say.” She found herself searching for his eyes, feeling a connection there that she didn’t remember and couldn’t explain. It brought a smile to her face. “I’m glad you’re my partner.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you’re mine.”
“But I still don’t know your name.”
He moved closer once again, that time pressing a kiss against her temple. “I’m Elliot.”
His kiss made her giggle. She glanced at the medic who was filling out paperwork as they rode to the hospital. Then she looked at Elliot. “And we’re just friends, right?”
Something sparked in his eyes, something so strong she could almost feel the heat. “No, we’re not friends. We’re partners.”
“And what does that mean?” She really had nothing to go on, but her relationship with the man seemed terribly familiar and intimate. Then again, it was the only relationship she had and it had lasted all of five minutes.
“It means we’re partners.” He shrugged.
She nodded. “Yeah, that’s helpful.” They lapsed into silence for the remainder of the ride, each lost in their own thoughts and drawing strength from their entwined hands.
Chapter Three
The medic hadn’t been joking about the rarity of amnesia. Olivia didn’t catch on immediately, however, when the fifth doctor popped his head in to ‘examine’ her, she realized that she’d become a curiosity. It wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed and it wasn’t an experience she was going to put up with either.
She carefully lowered herself from the bed, tentatively finding her balance. The dizziness wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been, but she was still a little shaky. She gripped the doorway for extra support and leaned her head out, searching for the only thing she knew. Conveniently, she decided it was also the only thing that would help her since the hospital staff clearly wasn’t going to.
She spied him not ten feet away, pacing nervously. Tall, hot, and far too worried about her to be just friends. Amnesia or not, she was a lucky girl. She smiled to herself.
Before she was able to call him, another man stepped in front of her. He, as opposed to Elliot, was not attractive. Or welcome. She pulled back slightly as she studied him. His little boy hair-cut. His slightly stupid smile. His eager face. He was gullible. She could tell. He was also an ass-kisser. She knew that much just looking at him.
“Hi, Olivia. I’m Chester Lake. We work in the same unit. Or do you remember that?”
Hearing that she worked with him, she tried to hide her grimace, but she was fairly certain that she failed entirely. “No, I don’t.”
His smile didn’t fade as she thought it should have. It was kind of like hearing someone really was paralyzed. There should have been a dent in his glee. “It would be kind of nice having to start all over. Forget lots of things you don’t want to remember, right?”
She kind of wanted to smack him, but she wasn’t sure if he was a superior in some way and therefore was afraid to take any such action.
Another man stepped up, saving Olivia from having to respond. “Damn, Lake, back up. Give the woman some room.” The man, whose tough appearance probably scared a lot of people, turned a kind smile in her direction. “Don’t pay attention to him, Olivia.” He offered his hand. “Friends call me Fin.”
“You mean like a fish?” She hadn’t expected that and a frown crossed her face. “Are you sure they’re friends?”
He grinned, his hand moving to wrap around her shoulders, hugging her against his side. His attention went to Elliot and the man sitting close by. “You hear that? She’s still in there. I think our girl just wanted a few vacation days.”
She didn’t know Fin, not anymore than she knew Elliot, but she decided she could trust him. Mostly because Elliot saw Fin’s arm around her and didn’t get mad. She smiled at him, not expecting the rush of warmth when his eyes met hers after so short a time apart. It made her tingle.
“What did the doctor say?” Elliot moved to her side, replacing Fin, but his arms didn’t move from his side. Whatever they were to each other, she suspected their coworkers weren’t privy to the information either. The only one who knew was Elliot and he didn’t appear to be explaining.
She shrugged. “Nothing. He said he’d be back, but then about a hundred of his friends came in and asked me stupid questions. I think I’m their entertainment for the evening.”
The bald man joined in the conversation. “What sort of questions?”
“Oh, sorry, Liv, this is Don Cragen.” Elliot motioned at the man who politely offered his hand to shake. “He’s our captain.”
The man’s concern was obvious as he smiled at her and shook his head. “You don’t remember any of us?” She shook her head, hoping it wouldn’t have an impact on the career she hoped she liked. “Not even him?” His finger pointed at Elliot, a hint of a snicker in his voice.
She shook her head again and found her hands clinging to Elliot’s arm suddenly. “No, but I like him.”
Cragen didn’t bother to hold back the snicker then; neither did Fin, who apparently found the comment hilarious.
Olivia looked at Elliot. He shrugged. She felt she needed to defend herself. “It’s probably because he was the first person who talked to me when I woke up. It probably happens to everyone, except the doctors are too busy asking me who the president is to give me any valuable information.”
Her last comment got Elliot’s full attention. “And the answer to that would be?”
“Nope, not a clue, and yet I know that the president is the head of the executive branch of the government. And I know the other two branches are the legislative and the judicial, but don’t ask me anyone in those branches.” She really wished someone could explain to her why she knew everything she’d learned in school, but she couldn’t remember where or when she’d gone to school.
Cragen seemed as amused by her as everyone else. “That’s bizarre. It’s just personal information you can’t remember?”
Her hold on Elliot’s arm tightened. “I really want to go home.”
The arm she was attached to moved suddenly, folding around her waist protectively. “Why don’t we go find the doctor and see what he can tell us?” He led her away from her coworkers. “Sorry.”
“For what?” She was just thankful he’d separated her from people with whom she no longer had anything in common.
“If I’d known you were finished, I would have kept them away from you.” He glanced over his shoulder at them. “Nosy bunch, aren’t they?”
“I wasn’t exactly finished.” She avoided the accusing stare he turned her way. “They were making me uncomfortable.”
His eyes darkened. “Who was? How? Did they touch you?”
Putting her hands on his chest to settle him, she laughed. “Down boy. They were just fascinated by me. That’s all.” She marveled at his overreaction. “What’s with you?”
Sighing, he put his hands in his pockets. “I should probably tell you that we work special victims.”
She imagined in her short circuited brain somewhere that meant something. But until she could access that, which she didn’t know would ever happen, she had to rely on Elliot to tell her what she needed to know, especially since she hadn’t yet met a single person she felt like she could really trust besides him. “What sort of special victims?”
He looked pained for a moment. “It’s not really important, let’s find the doctor.”
“Ok.” She really wanted to know, but she wasn’t going to press him. Trust or not, she didn’t really know how he would react to her demanding to know. If he got mad and left, she’d be on her own. She much preferred having someone around to help her. She smiled at him, letting her hand find his. “Lead the way.”
His eyes widened as they moved to their connected hands. After a moment, he nodded and mumbled something under his breath. “Yeah, ok.”
The doctor was less than helpful. Olivia imagined that had she needed those stitches, he might have been slightly more useful. Instead he gave them a lot of nonsense, basically saying that amnesia was an uncommon result from a head injury and that she had a 50-50 chance of regaining her memories and that there was nothing he could do to help the process. He suggested a psychological consult, which Olivia flat refused. She didn’t know what was in her head, but she knew she didn’t want someone else poking around in there. The doctor wanted to admit her and run more tests, but Olivia begged.
And begged and begged and begged.
Finally, Elliot relented and agreed to stay with her at the doctor’s insistence. According to the doctor, she needed some supervision until they verified the knowledge that she seemed to have retained. There was no way to be sure where her memories stopped. She could leave the gas on, he suggested, or touch a hot stove or walk into traffic. It irritated Olivia that the doctor spoke to Elliot like she wasn’t there, but she swallowed the hurt pride down. She was happy to have Elliot staying with her, so she could put up with it for the time being. With a promise that he would bring her back if she showed any other symptoms, Elliot was allowed to take her home. Olivia listened while he arranged for someone to take over their work for the day.
The taxi was taking forever and Olivia was exhausted. She couldn’t say what she’d been doing that day that exhausted her, but then again, she couldn’t say what her last name was either. Her eyes fell on the plastic bracelet the nurse had fastened around her wrist.
Benson, Olivia. 11/04/69.
So she had her name and birthday. If she could only find out what year it was, she’d know how old she was too.
Since they were stuck in traffic and Elliot gave every impression that he was resigned to a long cab ride, she figured she should do the same. Yawning, she leaned her head on his shoulder. She felt him start, surprise tensing his muscles under her. He said nothing.
Still she felt she should explain herself as it was rapidly becoming clear that touching him wasn’t something she usually did. Strange, considering what information she had on their relationship and the way he tried to take care of her. “I’m tired.”
There was a smile in his voice as his arm moved around her shoulders, nestling her closer to his side. “I guess the amnesia didn’t make your body forget about your little marathon this afternoon.”
“Huh?” She was too tired to look up, but she felt a slight pressure on the top of her head. She wanted to believe it was a kiss, but it could just as well have been his chin coming to rest on her head. Either way, she smiled. He might not be used to her touching him, but he didn’t mind it. She decided she’d keep being affectionate and encouraging him to be the same way. Eventually he’d have to give her more details about them. Or they’d wind up in bed. She wouldn’t mind both.
“Nothing. Get some rest. I’ll wake you when we get there.”
She fell asleep listening to the impatient sounds of traffic and the steady beating of his heart.
Chapter Four
She awoke to a gentle shaking of her shoulder. There was a disconcerting moment of blind panic she would soon learn to recognize upon waking with amnesia.
But just as quickly, there was a soothing voice and a warm smile and a friendly pair of eyes. “It’s ok, Liv. It’s just me. You’re home.”
Her heart was still racing and, after a few deep breaths, she realized she was still clutching his shirt in terror. Smoothing out the wrinkles she’d made in his blue dress shirt, she tried to hide her fear behind a smile. “I guess I’m a little jumpy.”
His own fear reflected for a moment. “You know who I am, right?”
Her eyes narrowed and she thought maybe she had forgotten again. She didn’t know if it was really possible to wind up in a repetitive loop of wiping the slate clean, but maybe it was. Maybe every time she woke up, she would think she’d only been asleep for a short time when that wasn’t really the case. Panic overtook her and she gripped his shirt again, so tightly she heard a hiss as her nails caught skin.
“What did I forget this time?” Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him.
He winced as he looked at the cab driver. “I’m hoping you only forgot that you don’t like to embarrass yourself in public.”
She looked around and saw the thoroughly amused cabbie flashing her a toothless grin. Her stomach flipped over and she thought she might be sick. “You’re Elliot, right? My partner. That’s all I remember you telling me. Please don’t tell me there was more!”
The cabbie’s smile widened as he leered at her. “Hey, sweetheart, you must have forgot I’m your husband. Come on up here with me. I’ll help you remember.”
As she whimpered, she saw a wad of bills smack into the divider. “Asshole!” Elliot grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the cab.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t any less confused or afraid as she stared at Elliot. Tears were making their way down her face and she wanted nothing more than to bury herself in his arms until she felt better. But his eyes were still flashing with fire and she didn’t know if he was mad at her or not.
His hand stayed locked around her wrist while the other moved up to cup her cheek. “Sorry. I figured I didn’t stand a chance of solving both problems at once.” He wiped at the tears that weren’t stopping. “You knew a lot more than my name this morning, but as far as I can tell, you’re only suffering from one bout of amnesia.” He offered her a smile and turned away, seeming to believe that his vague reassurance was going to help.
Words were not going to fix the frightened way her heart continued to pound. Nor would it fix the way her whole body was trembling. She dove at him head first, trying to burrow her face into his neck as the rest of her body melded into his.
It felt like forever before his arms folded around her, pulling her across whatever fraction of measurable distance there was left between them. His face tucked down next to her ear as he rubbed her back. “I’m sorry, Liv. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s ok. You’re safe.” He held her for a long moment before he pulled back to smile at her. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Drawing in a shaky breath, she nodded. “I thought I’d forgotten everything again.” Her words were soft as she allowed him to lead her to the stairs.
He stopped about halfway there. “We should probably check your mail, right? I don’t want to be responsible for your electric getting shut off.”
She remained mute while he picked through what were apparently her keys, looking for the one to her mailbox. She watched while he gathered up a few envelopes and a couple of catalogs. She followed him back to the stairs.
As he was pushing open the door, he looked down at her feet. “What do you say we take the elevator tonight?”
She nodded. Her feet hurt terribly and she wondered what had possessed her to participate in that marathon he’d mentioned while she was wearing four inch heels. His fingers pressed the button for the fifth floor and she turned back to him. “I live on the fifth floor?” He nodded. “And I normally take the stairs?” He nodded again. “And I run in these shoes?” He looked at her feet again before nodding a third time. “Do I have any sense at all?”
He chuckled and passed through the open doors towards her apartment. “First of all, I’m pretty sure you wear those shoes just so you can stare me down. Besides that, yes, you do have sense. You’re usually far more sensible than I am.” He shrugged at her and unlocked her door. “You like to problem solve whereas I like to use my fists to solve problems.” He put his arm across the doorjamb, blocking her entrance and catching her eye. “And when you get your memory back, I fully expect you’ll pretend to forget that I ever admitted that.”
She nodded and ducked under his arm, taking in her apartment for the first time. It was furnished, but not decorated. “How long have I lived here?” She was expecting an answer in months, possibly weeks. There had to be unpacked boxes where she kept her personal things, things she hadn’t found time to arrange yet.
He was closing and locking the door and therefore missed the displeasure written on her face. “You’ve been here as long as I’ve known you. I don’t know how long before that.”
She sat down gingerly on the couch, which she found was far more comfortable than she would have thought. “And how long have I known you?” If she’d only been in her apartment for a few weeks, that would explain a lot. But it wouldn’t explain the closeness with Elliot.
He smiled, certainly far more comfortable than she was when he went into the kitchen, grabbed two beers, and plopped down beside her with his feet propped up on the coffee table. “A decade, give or take.”
She bit her lip and sighed before she leaned back to settle next to him. “I have no memory, no sense and no decorating skills. Is there anything I’m good at?”
It could have been the dim glow of the only light he’d turned on. It could have been the remnants of sleep clinging to her brain. It could have been the head injury itself.
But she was sure she saw him wink.
And his voice was at least an octave lower when he let a sexy grin spread across his face. “You’re good at a lot of things, Liv.”
Somehow, she suspected they weren’t things she could list on a resume.
She was trembling a moment later when she stood up, shakily stepping toward the kitchen. “Can I get a glass of water?”
“Damn, how did I forget your head? I’ll just have to drink both of these.” He motioned at the beers.
She doubted he’d have much of a problem finishing two since he downed half the first one in one gulp. But as sexy as the man was, he sure was good at being completely distracted from her. “Elliot?” He looked at her inquisitively. “Water?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
“I meant for me. Can I get some?”
He was quiet, like he was trying to decide if it was a trick question. “This is your apartment.”
She nodded. “Right, but at the moment, you know me better than I do. Would I want a stranger going through my stuff?”
“You’re not a stranger, Liv.” Perplexed though he was, he stood up and followed her to the kitchen. “You’d die before you’d drink tap water.” He pulled open the fridge and handed her a bottle of water. “Why don’t you go look around? Maybe something will jog your memory.”
He retreated to the living room. The monotone drone of the newscasters filled the silence, leaving her with no option of replying. She held tight to the bottle of water, holding it like a tether to Elliot, as she started poking around her own unfamiliar place. The first door she tried was a closet, brimming with coats and boots. A hundred different colors of hats and gloves filled the shelf and she shook her head, wondering why she had so many. Probably a different set to go with each coat, she decided adding a checkmark next to anal retentive in her personality inventory. Elliot liked her and Elliot was a decent guy. Still, Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if she would really like herself. She decided to give Elliot the benefit of the doubt and continued her exploration.
Her bathroom was pretty simple, beige tiles, blue mat, blue towels and a beige shower curtain decorated with seashells. The towels were neatly folded. The cord to her blow-dryer was untangled. The counter by the sink was clean and orderly, except for the unzipped makeup bag. She must have been in a hurry that morning because the mascara wasn’t quite sealed. Olivia tightened the cap, put it in the bag, and zipped it up. She inspected the tub, the inside of the shower curtain, and the corner behind the toilet. Checking the cabinet under the sink, she found a half-used box of tampons, a mostly empty spray bottle of multi-surface cleaner, and a pair of stained sponges, but there was no dust or dirty fingerprints or cobwebs. Happy to discover that she was adept at cleaning, she moved on to the bedroom through the second door in the bathroom.
Having seen the arranged bathroom, she determined she’d really been in a hurry that morning because the bed lay unmade. The comforter was soft and thick, boasting a pale rose color that immediately rubbed Olivia the wrong way. The sheets were stripped white and matching rose. She switched on the lamp and looked around. There was a small pile of clothes that all appeared to be jackets or pants. Probably dry cleaning - a quick check of the tag revealed her assessment was right. Her bureau housed a picture frame, a faded picture of a little girl holding a small gray kitten with two white feet. Curious, she slid the picture out to look at the back. ‘Olivia, age 3, and Mittens.’ The handwriting was neat and loopy. She decided it was her mother’s writing and replaced the picture carefully.
She opened the drawers, one at a time, investigating the contents. The first drawer was lingerie, tossed in a messy heap. Grinning, she unchecked anal retentive from her list. The next two drawers held t-shirts and some tops, less than neatly folded. The other two drawers were filled with exercise clothes - sports bras and shorts and pants. The top of the dresser held a small wooden jewelry box, holding a meager amount of jewelry, mostly plain gold or silver earrings and necklaces and one ring with a small yellowish stone. She held it up to look for an inscription. It was mostly worn off, but it appeared to be for a sixteenth something. She imagined it was her birthstone and frowned, wishing it had been something prettier, maybe blue to match a lot of the clothes she’d found. Closing the box, she inspected the only other thing on the dresser - a bottle of perfume. It was mostly gone and she was delighted to recognize the scent when she held it to her nose. The glee didn’t last long enough for her to call Elliot before she realized the smell was coming from her shirt. So much for jogging a memory.
She moved to the closet, finding mostly black suits, some sweaters, and a few pairs of slacks in other colors. Digging in the back, she came up with three dresses. One was fire engine red, full length, with a slit up to somewhere Olivia couldn’t imagine would be appropriate in public. She laughed, wondering what Elliot would think of it. Maybe she’d model it for him later. The other two dresses were black. One was knee length, with no sleeves and a round neckline, and she suspected one of the multitude of black blazers went with it. The other was certainly above the knee on her, made of something stretchy and clingy. The long sleeves were a nod to modesty, but the lack of a back and deep dip in the front erased any idea of modesty in the same breath. On the opposite side of her closet she found a zipped garment bag and she nearly squealed. A wedding dress, perhaps a prom dress, could even be her mother’s wedding gown. She was grinning when she unzipped the bag. She was utterly disappointed to find it only held a dress police uniform with patches and pins and insignia she didn’t recognize. Frustrated, she put it back and closed the door.
Purposely avoiding the mirror above the dresser, she sat down on the bed to examine the contents of the nightstands. The drawer in the first one she checked was boring. It held a small notebook with some numbers scribbled on it, a pen, and some lip balm. The only thing on top was an alarm clock, which revealed that she opted to wake at quarter after five. Checking her wrist watch and finding that it was almost seven, she was no longer even the least bit ashamed at having fallen asleep in the cab. Not with the hours she kept.
The other nightstand was slightly more interesting. The drawer was so full she could barely get it open, loaded with all sorts of crap. Her junk drawer apparently. She was mortified to identify the top item, the one closest to the front and most likely to have been accessed recently, as a box of condoms. Afraid that Elliot would appear and either want to use them or not, she slammed the drawer closed and looked at the framed photos lining the top instead. The first one made her smile, a teenage girl in a school uniform, clutching a fat gray cat to her chest. She slipped the picture loose to check and found a sloppy scrawl that read ‘Me + Mittens, 1986.’ She set that picture back and picked up the next, an older woman who had the same dark eyes, half smiling, holding a glass of wine in a toast to the photographer, in front of a crooked Christmas tree. When she pulled it loose, it had only been labeled with ‘1997’ and a question mark. She wondered why she couldn’t accurately date the photo that she assumed was of her mother.
There were two more pictures in a larger frame that was hinged in the center. Both pictures were remarkably alike for pictures that were obviously years apart. The one on the left was of her and Elliot, except that he looked a lot younger. Her hair was almost shoulder length, the same dark brown that was almost black she’d seen in the other pictures of herself. They were sitting next to each other at a picnic table, his hand just peeking around the far side of her waist. Her head was angled toward his. They both had huge grins on their faces, probably due to the laughing kids in their laps - a boy in hers, a girl in his. Again, there was no label and she wondered who the kids were. On the right side picture, they were next to each other, standing instead. Her arm was around his waist; his was around her shoulders. They’d both leaned toward each other so that his cheek was resting on her head, which she saw was topped with an odd tanish-brown bleach job and a cut that made Marines look rather lenient with the shears. Again, there were kids in the picture, but they were grinning blonde girls who could easily have been late teens or early twenties. There were many more lines on both hers and Elliot’s faces in the second picture, but what caught her eye was that it was Elliot’s left arm that was draped over her shoulder, his left hand falling forward on her chest. The left hand that wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Thoroughly confused, she checked the back and found nothing.
She was making a mental note to start labeling her pictures when she realized she wasn’t alone. Elliot was standing in the doorway. His suit coat was gone, as was his tie, the top three buttons of his shirt were undone, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to the elbows. A beer dangled from his fingers.
“It got quiet out there. Whacha up to?” He approached and sat down beside her on the bed.
“I was just looking at these pictures. Besides you, no one seems familiar.”
He motioned at the one of her as a teenager. “Not even you?”
She shook her head. “Haven’t looked in the mirror yet.”
“That must be weird. Not recognizing yourself.” His eyes were intent on hers and she felt a blush spring up in response.
“I’m afraid to look.” She tugged at the plastic bracelet she hadn’t taken off. “I know I was born in 1969, but I don’t know how long ago that was.”
Pulling his keys from his pocket, he held one of them against the thin edge of the plastic and jerked. The only piece of identification she could swear was her own fell to the floor. “I hate those things.” She watched him replace the keys and thus missed his other hand moving until he pushed her hair back from her face. “There’s no reason to be afraid of the mirror, Liv. You’re absolutely beautiful.” His eyes held hers, imprisoning her with his stare and his proximity and his scent.
Embarrassed and unnerved by the intensity she saw in his eyes, she offered him the joined frames. “When are these from?”
It took him a minute to refocus, but he did, a smile warming his face. “I didn’t know you had these.” He pointed at the first one, tracing his fingers over the children’s faces. “This was a Fourth of July picnic, nine years ago, I think. You came with Kathy and me and the kids.” He pointed at each of the kids in turn. “These are two of my kids. Dickie and his twin sister Lizzie. They’re sixteen now.”
She marveled at the young faces. “Wow. We have known each other a long time.”
He nodded. “And this one was probably two years ago?” He didn’t sound sure. “That’s Kathleen and Maureen, two more of my kids.” He thought about it for a minute. “Yeah, it would have to be two years ago - your hair was a lot longer last year.”
She didn’t even have time to wonder why he paid enough attention to her hair to be able to use it to date photos. Or to wonder just how many kids the man had.
His hand was back on her, combing through her hair. “It was weird seeing you with it long. You looked so different. I didn’t like it at the time. It reminded me that you and I were-“ His eyes fell from hers and he pulled his hand away, replacing the frame on the nightstand. “Never mind, it’s not important.”
She caught his hand, thinking he was hiding something that she needed to know. “No, what?” He looked at her and she could see his indecision. “Please? I have nothing unless you give it to me.”
He nodded slowly, taking a deep breath and then smiling at her. “We were going through a rough patch. We kind of grew apart there.” He shrugged and she noticed he was so close that she felt his shrug more than saw it. “I’m pretty sure it was all my fault. I was being a shit when Kathy was divorcing me.” She saw the way he twisted the wedding ring on his finger. “But everything’s back to normal now and,” he paused to look back at her, his fingers finding their way back into her hair, “and now I kind of miss it being long.”
“I’m sure there’s a reason I keep it short.” The conversation seemed to be heading into dangerous territory, although the only clue she had was the pounding of her heart.
His eyes were sliding all over her face and his hand hadn’t moved from where it just barely cupped the back of her head. He didn’t look like he’d heard her.
She noticed when his eyes stilled, finally coming to rest on her lips. Her mouth dropped open, in shock rather than invitation, but she realized he probably didn’t know the difference.
Because his face was moving closer and his hand was holding her still.
And before she could even form the thought that she, the new she who had only existed for a few hours, had never been kissed, his lips pressed against hers. His mouth was hungry and his tongue insistent. She didn’t have a chance to be nervous or scared as she opened her mouth fully to his, allowing his tongue to probe against her own.
She had only instinct to go on and all of her instincts told her to trust him.
So she offered no resistance when she felt his weight shifting, pushing her down on the bed.
Chapter Five
She felt like she imagined teenagers might feel, fumbling around for the first time. Terrified. Turned on. Emotional. Confused. She didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t know if she was kissing right. She didn’t know if she’d been with him in such a position before; she didn’t know if he noticed or cared about a difference in her response. But her body seemed to know what it was doing without her conscious input. Her hands roamed freely over his back, feeling the thick muscles moving under his skin as he supported himself above her. His whole body was pressing against hers, allowing her to feel how very much he wanted her. She had no experience, none that she could recall at least, but it seemed that he’d reacted to the contact so fast that he must have been anticipating it, or perhaps simply wanting it for a very long time.
His mouth held hers for what seemed like forever, convincing her that whatever she was doing was fine by him. His lips slowly moved away from hers, grazing her cheek and chin before settling in for a more determined examination of her neck. She felt him nip at the base of her throat, at the tender skin along the exposed portion of her collarbone. She barely noticed his balance shift to one arm or when he tugged her shirt loose from her pants, but she definitely felt it when he slipped under her shirt to caress the skin of her stomach and side. Her legs moved on their own, shifting her hips against his and drawing a gasp from both of them as his erection pressed hard against her. It felt so good that her fingers curled tightly, nails digging into his flesh right through his shirt.
Or maybe that was from the way his teeth had latched onto her earlobe as he sucked on it.
Just friends my ass, she thought.
She thought about the condoms too, the ones she’d just found in the drawer of her nightstand. She wondered if he was the reason she kept them. She wondered if she should mention that she had them. She wondered when was the appropriate time to mention such a thing.
She wondered why his mouth, which had been doing unspeakably glorious things to her body, was hovering several inches above her. It was hanging open and he was staring at her. Deciding she must have done something wrong, missed some cue as to what she was supposed to do, she attempted to make up for it. She lifted her head, closing the distance between them and claiming his lips.
He responded immediately, lowering his head back down to continue the kiss. She congratulated herself for getting it right.
But then he pulled back again, straightening his arms as he pushed himself further away. He was shaking his head and his mouth was moving. He was mumbling something, but she couldn’t understand him. She didn’t want to. She only wanted to figure out how to reattach his lips to her skin. He had moved back to a sitting position. She followed, doing her best to lessen the space between them. She’d much preferred it when his body had been resting on hers, keeping the maximum amount of contact possible while they were still clothed. She reached for him, trying to get a hold on his shirt to pull him back to her.
He caught her hands before she succeeded in grabbing him, holding her wrists gently but firmly away from him. Her eyes darted to his, trying to read him, trying to figure out what she’d done. He gave nothing away except that he was clearly upset, horrified actually, by something.
She couldn’t believe she’d screwed up so badly. Her chin started to tremble, fearing he was so upset that he would leave her completely alone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean it. Just tell me what happened and I’ll-“
He put a finger to her lips to silence her. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His head ducked down and she could see that he was trembling when he took a breath. He continued without looking at her and she hated that he wouldn’t give her the comfort of eye contact. “I’m sorry, Liv. I’m so, so sorry.” He stood up, shaking his head, as his face crumbled. “Please forgive me for that.”
Then he was gone, disappearing from her room so quickly she questioned for a moment if the whole thing had happened or if she’d simply imagined the interlude. Her own legs were shaky as she gave chase. She had to stop him before he abandoned her. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts, the thoughts that would fixate on what awful thing she’d done that had sent him scurrying from her when his body so clearly wanted to stay. She felt tears forming, knowing that whatever she’d done must have been truly hideous to merit such a reaction from him.
She found him on the couch with his face in his hands. “Elliot?” She stood in the hall, leaning in the doorway. She didn’t want to crowd him for fear he’d run further.
He was still mumbling and shaking his head, but she got the distinct impression he wasn’t talking to anyone, except possibly god. He did look up, indicating that he’d heard her, but he didn’t say a word, at least not to her.
“I’m sorry. I really don’t know what I did.” She looked down, feeling her cheeks burning in embarrassment. “I don’t remember anything, Elliot, I didn’t know what I was doing.” It was a hard thing to admit because she had the sense to know that she should have known, that any other day, she would have known. She stared at the carpeting and wondered how long it would take him to answer. It took much longer than she expected and finally, she looked up when the curiosity outweighed the anxiety.
He was staring at her, his face scrunched and twisted in visible hurt. His mouth worked and moved, but no sound came out. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He closed his eyes and finally croaked out words. “It’s not you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Trusting his words, she felt more comfortable going into the living room to sit beside him. “Then what happened?”
He turned away to stare straight ahead, shaking his head again. “I forgot for a moment.” He winced, his unhappiness with someone considerably more obvious than the source. And then his hand covered hers, his warmth infusing her with heat once again. A rueful smile formed on his lips as he half glanced at her. “For a minute there, it was just you and me and none of the other bullshit, you know?” His hand released hers. “I wasn’t thinking that you didn’t remember me. Or us.”
She smiled, not fully comprehending what he was trying to tell her. “I thought there was no us.”
His eyes darted to hers and she knew he expected they would dart away just as quickly. Instead, the moment his eyes found hers, a startling, irresistible heat filled the air between them, holding them hostage with its searing grasp. Rather than the response he’d planned, Elliot could only stare at her. He wanted to kiss her again, she could read that much even in a face that was technically unfamiliar to her.
What she hadn’t anticipated was her own reaction to him, even having experienced the brief exchange in the bedroom. She could feel her body’s reaction to him, to his stare, to his desire. Her body was drawn to his, yearning for his touch, as though it remembered a nexus that her mind did not. It seemed there was a magnetic force pulling her into his arms and it took all of her strength to resist it.
She could hardly blame him for having kissed her; she wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d given into the pull himself and kissed her again. In fact, she kind of hoped he would.
Eventually, he managed to drag his eyes away, clearing his throat and pressing his fists into his thighs. “You might look at me and see a stranger, Liv, but when I look at you, I don’t. I see you, the same as you always have been.” He shook his head. “But different. Open. Willing. Like you wanted me to kiss you. I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”
It hit her like a ton of bricks. What he was trying to tell her, what he’d been struggling with when he ran from her, was simply that he didn’t like her. Well, he didn’t like her as much as he liked the woman he knew. Who, evidently, she only sort of resembled. She took a breath, fighting to get it past the painful clenching in her chest. She nodded, wondering if her voice would reveal the way she was aching. “Right, ok. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-“
“Shhh.” He reached out for her hand again. His eyes moved toward her, but they stopped a little shy of meeting hers. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Liv. I mean that. I never should have touched you. I should have remembered that you’re not really you.” His fingers traced lightly over her palm. She wondered if he felt the shudder that ran through her. If he did, he didn’t give any indication.
“You weren’t wrong either.” Her voice was stronger, but still soft. Her chest was still constricted with the pain of rejection. “I did want you to kiss me.”
“But it’s not your body. You can’t consent to anything unless you remember your life. You might as well be drunk.” He pulled his hand back, letting a frustrated sigh explain why he’d cut short the contact she was reveling in. “It’s worse than being drunk. At least when you’re drunk you still have some concept of who you are.” He stood up suddenly, disappearing into the kitchen while Olivia stared after him. He returned quickly, holding another beer which was already half gone. “I’m a fucking monster. Jumping you when you have no one else to turn to.” He dropped into the arm chair on the other side of the table. “As soon as you get your memory back, I want you to press charges. I had no right and I’m sorry and I promise I won’t deny it.”
She wanted to argue, scream that it was her body, even if she had no idea what she would normally do with it, but there was no point. Elliot wasn’t about to change his mind. The fact was that he wouldn’t listen to a word she said, not really. He’d given that much away with his words - no matter what she said, he wouldn’t believe any of it until she was back to normal. The whole idea was crushingly painful, but she refused to think about it until she was alone. She wanted to argue, to tell him that she did know him, to explain how her body recognized him, to demand to know why he was the only thing she felt any connection to when she didn’t even recognize herself.
Standing up, she stepped next to him and waited until he looked at her. As much as she knew it was pointless to fight, she couldn’t resist it. “It is my body. I did want you to kiss me. That’s all there is to it.”
He looked up at her, his eyes hooded with guilt and self-reproach. “If you did, it only proves my point. If I’d kissed you any other day, you would have shot me. And as soon as you get your memory back you probably will.” He looked down at his hands twisting in his lap.
“I can tell you right now that is categorically untrue.” She squatted down to get his attention, demanding that he look at her by leaning in until he did. “That’s one thing I’m certain of, Elliot.” And she was. Because the attraction, the familiarity, the emotional entanglement between them had survived the amnesia that had stolen everything else from her. Whatever they shared, it existed on an inherent, intrinsic, instinctive level. It wasn’t something that could be denied.
“If you wanted me to kiss you so bad, don’t you think it would have happened by now?” His eyes were all over, like he knew he’d kiss her again given a chance and he didn’t have a clue what to do about it.
“Honestly, with what I feel, I don’t know how it hasn’t happened by now.” And it was true. She had been attracted to him the moment she saw him. She couldn’t imagine the blinding desire to touch him ever fading away. But when she thought about his words, he’d given her part of the answer she’d been questioning about their relationship. “We’ve really never kissed before?”
He shook his head slowly before dropping it into his hands. “Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?”
She knew he was dead serious, convinced he’d done something wrong, but she didn’t know what to do to diffuse that situation. So she reached for one of his wrists, pulling his hand away until she could see his face. She grinned. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I guess it’s a good thing I lost my memory or you never would have made a move.”
His initial response was a smile, a faint hint of a laugh as he met her gaze. But it was gone that fast and she realized he’d done it again, in that one second, forgotten that she wasn’t the woman he knew. And for a moment, she felt terribly sorry for him. It wasn’t confusing to her - she didn’t have another version of Elliot with whom to confuse him.
His hand moved to her face, only barely making contact with her cheek. “I’m sorry, Liv. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never meant to take advantage of you. Please remember that when you come back, ok?”
She stood up, hating that he was talking to her like she was her own damn secretary. “What if she’s not coming back?” It was a possibility the doctor had mentioned, one that he’d only vaguely glossed over because, Olivia figured, spending more time on it might make people like Elliot very angry.
Figuring her mention of such bad news would have the same effect on him, she didn’t wait around to hear his answer. She walked away and closed her bedroom door behind her, knowing Elliot wasn’t going to come anywhere near her for the rest of the night.
Blank
Jezyk
Spoilers: Anything through season 9 is fair game.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, I’d still be writing and they’d still be getting paid. Doesn’t sound so bad now, does it?
Chapter One
She could hear nothing beside the sound of her own breath, coming in hard pants. Her lungs were crying out for her to stop running, but she ignored them. She had no choice. Concentrating on her aching legs took her mind off her pained lungs. No matter what kind of shape she was in, a twenty minute sprint after a man with several inches on her took everything she had to give.
She would have happily abandoned her pursuit, turned her lead over to another detective for a few minutes while she recovered. But she’d lost Elliot at the last turn, several blocks back - the perp was a skinny, weasley, wiry sort of guy who’d shimmied through a chained fence just a second before Elliot would have caught him. Elliot was without question the faster of the partners, but Olivia was skinnier and had no trouble continuing the chase when Elliot looked for another way around, since the barbed wire prevented even his second choice of scaling it.
Olivia was also perfectly willing to forever give up any notion of fashion, swearing off ever wearing heels again, regardless of how Elliot would tower over her, provided her feet would stop screaming in pain with each pounding stride.
None of her physical pain really mattered, she reasoned. She’d be able to stop soon enough. She’d get a few gulps of air and have a nice long ride back to the precinct in the cruiser with her shoes off while she ignored Elliot’s cracks about how jeans and sneakers were a much better choice.
She was only a few feet behind the perp, a disgusting, perverted, sicko with a penchant for handcuffs and toddlers. She even told herself it was better that she apprehend him than Elliot because Elliot’s rage tended to get the better of him when kids were involved and she really wasn’t in the mood to get a lecture about police brutality from Cragen.
She was in excellent shape, prided herself on being so, because of that very situation. Because deep down she resented that Elliot was taller and faster and stronger simply because he was a man. And she suspected that she would let a bit of that fury out on the perp as soon as she caught him. She was sure to catch him too, she knew, because after such a long, unforgiving pace, he’d darted into a building on the riverfront, a sure sign he was getting tired.
Her adrenaline would carry her through to the end, allowing her the last bit of strength to prevail when the creep’s own strength would leave him.
She lifted her radio, breathlessly spitting out the best directions she could to Elliot and the uniforms who were trying to locate them. She could hear their sirens getting closer in response to her words as she slowed her steps. Her boots were nearly silent on the concrete when she crept through the door into the dark building. She knew she needed to be careful, following blind and without immediate backup. But he had only had a few seconds head start on her and she expected he would be looking to hide and recover from the run rather than start a fist fight with her.
She thought wrong.
For a moment it seemed the darkness of the warehouse suddenly reached out to grab her. It was in slow motion as she heard a rush of wind by her right ear. And then something big and hard and unyielding slammed into her head.
She didn’t feel it when she hit the ground, but she knew she had. There was utter darkness around her, so complete that she couldn’t even tell if her eyes were opened or closed. An unmerciful throbbing pain in her head brought tears to her eyes. Despite her wounded condition and the exhaustion, she tried to get her bearings.
She heard nothing. Nothing at all.
Nothing to tell her what was going on.
Nothing to tell her where she was.
She allowed herself a moment of silent panic, eventually hearing the sirens which revealed the police presence close by. She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t going to scream. She was going to keep herself under control.
It was only a moment later when the darkness was invaded by sunlight. The volume of the sirens grew by leaps and bounds as the doors were propped opened by the uniformed officers. She watched them from her position on the floor as one of them turned to call to someone she couldn’t see.
“She’s here, Detective.”
A moment later, a dark shadow filled the doorway. “Liv?”
She realized she should get up and started to lift herself off the ground. By the time she’d made it to her elbows, the shadow was beside her.
His hand settled against her back, helping her to a sitting position. “What happened?”
Shaking her head only made it hurt, she discovered. “Got hit with something.” The wooden beam next to her appeared to be the culprit; the blood smeared along the side was the dead giveaway.
“Let’s get you up.” He turned away, motioning to one of the crowds of officers milling around. “Radio for a bus.”
The younger man nodded. “Already done. They’re on the way.”
He turned back to her. “Need help?” His face was slightly suspicious when she nodded, but he offered his hands to her anyway.
She smiled gratefully, letting him support a good portion of her weight. “Thanks.” Immediately on standing, she swayed a little.
“You ok there?” His hand pressed against her back, helping to steady her.
“I’m a little dizzy, actually. I’d like to sit down.” She expected her words would be met with sympathy or support or at least agreement.
Instead, he stared at her. “What?”
“Never mind. It’s ok.” She went to take a step, found that it was more difficult than she’d expected, and reached out to grab hold of the closest officer.
But his hands closed around her waist, keeping her on her feet. “Hey, I’ve got you.”
Irritated, but dependent on him to stand, she reluctantly tried to smile. “Thanks.”
He led her to the steps by the door, lowering her to rest on the top one. “The bus’ll be here in a minute, Liv.” She looked at him to nod and his eyes caught on something. His hand grazed her chin, slowly reaching up to the side of her head. “Damn, he nailed you, didn’t he?”
She winced when his fingers found what she knew was probably a nasty lump. “Apparently.”
“It’s probably just a concussion. We’ll get you looked at and then get you home.” He stayed beside her, his shoulder pressing against hers. “Ok?”
She nodded, knowing it was a lie. She felt guilty for it as soon as she did. He was being nice to her, taking care of her and she was repaying him by lying. Her face turned toward him, carefully studying his until he turned to look at her. “Sorry.”
He smiled, a warmth coming to his incredibly bright eyes. “For what?”
She met his stare, feeling a frightening unfamiliarity and emptiness when she did. “Who are you?”
Chapter Two
She had no idea silence could be so loud.
The man who’d been so kind and helpful to her said nothing. He just stared at her.
She sighed, suspecting he wasn’t just some cop who’d come looking for her. Not that it would have made sense, considering that she really had no idea what she was doing that had resulted in her getting hit with a piece of wood.
His shock wore off, his face twisting between concern and anger. “You’re kidding, right? Tell me you’re kidding.”
She didn’t know what to say. She looked down, noticing the shiny badge clipped to her waist for the first time. Pulling it loose, she held it up and ran her fingers over it. “So I guess I know you, huh?”
“Please tell me this is the most un-amusing joke you’ve ever played on me.” His eyes searched hers. “I swear to God if this is a joke, I’m going to hurt you.”
She was mesmerized by his face, watching emotions dance across it. He was attractive, very much so, and she was glad that she knew him well enough for him to be worried. Shaking her head, she averted her eyes. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to stare at him, even if he was handsome.
His hand touched her chin, tilting her face up towards his again. “You’re dead serious, aren’t you?”
She nodded, reaching up to move his hand. Seeing a ring on his left hand and none on her own, she realized it wouldn’t be right to let him touch her like that. A siren called her attention away and she looked up to see an ambulance pulling up among the police cars. “That’s for me, right?”
He nodded, automatically reaching to help her. A tight, uncomfortable smile locked in place when she tripped and fell against his chest. “Are you still dizzy or did you forget how to walk?”
She grumbled at herself, embarrassed for needing so much help with something so simple. “I can walk just fine. It’s the damn ground that keeps spinning.”
The tight smile spread suddenly into a full, genuine one. “That sounds like my Liv.”
Her brow furrowed and she stumbled again. “Your Liv?” If that were the case, she was the other woman. She had no idea what sort of person she was, but she already didn’t like herself.
He looked uncomfortable as he scanned the area for any possible witnesses. “I - uh - I meant -“ He stopped and cleared his throat as though that might hide how flustered he was. “You’re my partner. That’s what I meant.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Uh huh. Sure. Whatever you say.” She didn’t know what to make of the distress on his face, so she ignored it. He was too protective, too worried, too entrenched in her personal space for partnership to cover it. She filed it away to take up with him when she got her memory back.
As they approached the ambulance crew, one of the men stepped forward. “We got a call about an injured officer?”
Liv raised her hand uncomfortably. “Somebody hit me with something.”
Her partner took out his phone and started to dial, even while helping her into the ambulance. “Something being a two by four. And she neglected to mention that she can’t remember anything.”
The phone in his hand connected and the other man’s voice was so loud everyone in the bus could hear it. “What’s the problem? Do you have him in custody?”
Grimacing, he looked at Liv. “No, cap, he attacked Liv, knocked her out.”
His voice was softer, but Olivia could still hear every word. She wondered why she hadn’t ever mentioned to him that none of his conversations were private, but she thought it might have something to do with the woman she was the other woman to. Maybe Liv liked to listen in. She was sickened by the thought, but she listened to the other man’s words anyway. “Is she ok?”
He grimaced again. “No. She doesn’t know who I am.”
There was another period of dead silence, something Olivia was beginning to suspect meant no one believed her. Maybe Liv was a liar too. “Is this some kind of a joke?”
“No, cap, seriously, she has amnesia or something. The bus just got here. I’ll keep you posted.” He closed the phone and tuned back into the conversation between Olivia and the medic.
“So you have amnesia?”
Olivia shrugged. “It would appear that way.”
“But you know what amnesia is?”
Olivia glared at her partner, somehow instinctively knowing she did not like medics talking to her. “I’m injured, not retarded.” He snickered, alerting Olivia to the fact that a lot of her personality was clearly inherent rather than learned.
“I’ve never worked with amnesia before. Despite what the soaps would have you believe, it’s really very uncommon.”
Olivia tried to smile. “Lucky me.”
“Do you know your name?”
She jerked her thumb at her partner. “He called me Liv.”
The medic nodded. “How about your last name?”
She shrugged. “Not a clue.”
“What’s his name?”
Olivia shrugged. “He’s my partner.”
The medic looked intrigued. “Do you remember that or did he tell you?”
Her eyes darted toward her partner, still curious as to his name, but thinking she might be able to put one over on him. His eyes were locked on hers and his head slowly nodded. Nope, he wasn’t a sucker, that was for sure. Reluctantly, she told the truth. “He told me.”
“Do you know the date?” When his question was meant with another shrug, the young man tried again. “The year? Month? Anything?”
She rolled her eyes and turned away, watching the handsome face of the man beside her contort with worry. She reached out and took his hand. “It’s ok. I’m fine.”
He shook his head. “You’re not fine, Liv.”
“Sure I am. I just can’t remember anything.”
“And you can’t walk either.”
She grinned, amazed that her grin spread immediately onto his face. “I told you I can walk.”
He nodded, unable to wipe the smile off. “Right, it’s the ground that’s spinning.”
Clearing his throat, the medic insinuated himself back in the conversation. “Can you give me any biographical info? Your age, birthday, where you were born, your mother’s name?”
She tried for a long moment, but came up with nothing. “No, nothing, but yes, I do know what biographical means. Don’t ask me how cause I don’t remember that either.”
He moved on then, examining her and prodding the painful lump on the side of her head. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but the ER docs can tell you for sure.”
She shook her head, almost sick at the throbbing that accompanied the movement. “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I just want to go home.”
The medic smiled, a condescending, conceited smile. “Do you know where home is?”
Her face fell and she swallowed hard. “No.” She looked at her partner. “But you probably know, right?”
He shook his head. “Don’t even try it with me. You’re going to the hospital.”
“I know I don’t like hospitals. Does that count?” She didn’t know him well enough to not be hopeful.
“No, it doesn’t because no one likes hospitals.”
“I don’t like you either.” She turned away, crossing her arms over her chest.
He leaned over, snagging her hand and squeezing it. “You’re going to be fine, Liv.”
Comforted by the gesture, she left her hand resting in his. “Whatever you say.” She found herself searching for his eyes, feeling a connection there that she didn’t remember and couldn’t explain. It brought a smile to her face. “I’m glad you’re my partner.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you’re mine.”
“But I still don’t know your name.”
He moved closer once again, that time pressing a kiss against her temple. “I’m Elliot.”
His kiss made her giggle. She glanced at the medic who was filling out paperwork as they rode to the hospital. Then she looked at Elliot. “And we’re just friends, right?”
Something sparked in his eyes, something so strong she could almost feel the heat. “No, we’re not friends. We’re partners.”
“And what does that mean?” She really had nothing to go on, but her relationship with the man seemed terribly familiar and intimate. Then again, it was the only relationship she had and it had lasted all of five minutes.
“It means we’re partners.” He shrugged.
She nodded. “Yeah, that’s helpful.” They lapsed into silence for the remainder of the ride, each lost in their own thoughts and drawing strength from their entwined hands.
Chapter Three
The medic hadn’t been joking about the rarity of amnesia. Olivia didn’t catch on immediately, however, when the fifth doctor popped his head in to ‘examine’ her, she realized that she’d become a curiosity. It wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed and it wasn’t an experience she was going to put up with either.
She carefully lowered herself from the bed, tentatively finding her balance. The dizziness wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been, but she was still a little shaky. She gripped the doorway for extra support and leaned her head out, searching for the only thing she knew. Conveniently, she decided it was also the only thing that would help her since the hospital staff clearly wasn’t going to.
She spied him not ten feet away, pacing nervously. Tall, hot, and far too worried about her to be just friends. Amnesia or not, she was a lucky girl. She smiled to herself.
Before she was able to call him, another man stepped in front of her. He, as opposed to Elliot, was not attractive. Or welcome. She pulled back slightly as she studied him. His little boy hair-cut. His slightly stupid smile. His eager face. He was gullible. She could tell. He was also an ass-kisser. She knew that much just looking at him.
“Hi, Olivia. I’m Chester Lake. We work in the same unit. Or do you remember that?”
Hearing that she worked with him, she tried to hide her grimace, but she was fairly certain that she failed entirely. “No, I don’t.”
His smile didn’t fade as she thought it should have. It was kind of like hearing someone really was paralyzed. There should have been a dent in his glee. “It would be kind of nice having to start all over. Forget lots of things you don’t want to remember, right?”
She kind of wanted to smack him, but she wasn’t sure if he was a superior in some way and therefore was afraid to take any such action.
Another man stepped up, saving Olivia from having to respond. “Damn, Lake, back up. Give the woman some room.” The man, whose tough appearance probably scared a lot of people, turned a kind smile in her direction. “Don’t pay attention to him, Olivia.” He offered his hand. “Friends call me Fin.”
“You mean like a fish?” She hadn’t expected that and a frown crossed her face. “Are you sure they’re friends?”
He grinned, his hand moving to wrap around her shoulders, hugging her against his side. His attention went to Elliot and the man sitting close by. “You hear that? She’s still in there. I think our girl just wanted a few vacation days.”
She didn’t know Fin, not anymore than she knew Elliot, but she decided she could trust him. Mostly because Elliot saw Fin’s arm around her and didn’t get mad. She smiled at him, not expecting the rush of warmth when his eyes met hers after so short a time apart. It made her tingle.
“What did the doctor say?” Elliot moved to her side, replacing Fin, but his arms didn’t move from his side. Whatever they were to each other, she suspected their coworkers weren’t privy to the information either. The only one who knew was Elliot and he didn’t appear to be explaining.
She shrugged. “Nothing. He said he’d be back, but then about a hundred of his friends came in and asked me stupid questions. I think I’m their entertainment for the evening.”
The bald man joined in the conversation. “What sort of questions?”
“Oh, sorry, Liv, this is Don Cragen.” Elliot motioned at the man who politely offered his hand to shake. “He’s our captain.”
The man’s concern was obvious as he smiled at her and shook his head. “You don’t remember any of us?” She shook her head, hoping it wouldn’t have an impact on the career she hoped she liked. “Not even him?” His finger pointed at Elliot, a hint of a snicker in his voice.
She shook her head again and found her hands clinging to Elliot’s arm suddenly. “No, but I like him.”
Cragen didn’t bother to hold back the snicker then; neither did Fin, who apparently found the comment hilarious.
Olivia looked at Elliot. He shrugged. She felt she needed to defend herself. “It’s probably because he was the first person who talked to me when I woke up. It probably happens to everyone, except the doctors are too busy asking me who the president is to give me any valuable information.”
Her last comment got Elliot’s full attention. “And the answer to that would be?”
“Nope, not a clue, and yet I know that the president is the head of the executive branch of the government. And I know the other two branches are the legislative and the judicial, but don’t ask me anyone in those branches.” She really wished someone could explain to her why she knew everything she’d learned in school, but she couldn’t remember where or when she’d gone to school.
Cragen seemed as amused by her as everyone else. “That’s bizarre. It’s just personal information you can’t remember?”
Her hold on Elliot’s arm tightened. “I really want to go home.”
The arm she was attached to moved suddenly, folding around her waist protectively. “Why don’t we go find the doctor and see what he can tell us?” He led her away from her coworkers. “Sorry.”
“For what?” She was just thankful he’d separated her from people with whom she no longer had anything in common.
“If I’d known you were finished, I would have kept them away from you.” He glanced over his shoulder at them. “Nosy bunch, aren’t they?”
“I wasn’t exactly finished.” She avoided the accusing stare he turned her way. “They were making me uncomfortable.”
His eyes darkened. “Who was? How? Did they touch you?”
Putting her hands on his chest to settle him, she laughed. “Down boy. They were just fascinated by me. That’s all.” She marveled at his overreaction. “What’s with you?”
Sighing, he put his hands in his pockets. “I should probably tell you that we work special victims.”
She imagined in her short circuited brain somewhere that meant something. But until she could access that, which she didn’t know would ever happen, she had to rely on Elliot to tell her what she needed to know, especially since she hadn’t yet met a single person she felt like she could really trust besides him. “What sort of special victims?”
He looked pained for a moment. “It’s not really important, let’s find the doctor.”
“Ok.” She really wanted to know, but she wasn’t going to press him. Trust or not, she didn’t really know how he would react to her demanding to know. If he got mad and left, she’d be on her own. She much preferred having someone around to help her. She smiled at him, letting her hand find his. “Lead the way.”
His eyes widened as they moved to their connected hands. After a moment, he nodded and mumbled something under his breath. “Yeah, ok.”
The doctor was less than helpful. Olivia imagined that had she needed those stitches, he might have been slightly more useful. Instead he gave them a lot of nonsense, basically saying that amnesia was an uncommon result from a head injury and that she had a 50-50 chance of regaining her memories and that there was nothing he could do to help the process. He suggested a psychological consult, which Olivia flat refused. She didn’t know what was in her head, but she knew she didn’t want someone else poking around in there. The doctor wanted to admit her and run more tests, but Olivia begged.
And begged and begged and begged.
Finally, Elliot relented and agreed to stay with her at the doctor’s insistence. According to the doctor, she needed some supervision until they verified the knowledge that she seemed to have retained. There was no way to be sure where her memories stopped. She could leave the gas on, he suggested, or touch a hot stove or walk into traffic. It irritated Olivia that the doctor spoke to Elliot like she wasn’t there, but she swallowed the hurt pride down. She was happy to have Elliot staying with her, so she could put up with it for the time being. With a promise that he would bring her back if she showed any other symptoms, Elliot was allowed to take her home. Olivia listened while he arranged for someone to take over their work for the day.
The taxi was taking forever and Olivia was exhausted. She couldn’t say what she’d been doing that day that exhausted her, but then again, she couldn’t say what her last name was either. Her eyes fell on the plastic bracelet the nurse had fastened around her wrist.
Benson, Olivia. 11/04/69.
So she had her name and birthday. If she could only find out what year it was, she’d know how old she was too.
Since they were stuck in traffic and Elliot gave every impression that he was resigned to a long cab ride, she figured she should do the same. Yawning, she leaned her head on his shoulder. She felt him start, surprise tensing his muscles under her. He said nothing.
Still she felt she should explain herself as it was rapidly becoming clear that touching him wasn’t something she usually did. Strange, considering what information she had on their relationship and the way he tried to take care of her. “I’m tired.”
There was a smile in his voice as his arm moved around her shoulders, nestling her closer to his side. “I guess the amnesia didn’t make your body forget about your little marathon this afternoon.”
“Huh?” She was too tired to look up, but she felt a slight pressure on the top of her head. She wanted to believe it was a kiss, but it could just as well have been his chin coming to rest on her head. Either way, she smiled. He might not be used to her touching him, but he didn’t mind it. She decided she’d keep being affectionate and encouraging him to be the same way. Eventually he’d have to give her more details about them. Or they’d wind up in bed. She wouldn’t mind both.
“Nothing. Get some rest. I’ll wake you when we get there.”
She fell asleep listening to the impatient sounds of traffic and the steady beating of his heart.
Chapter Four
She awoke to a gentle shaking of her shoulder. There was a disconcerting moment of blind panic she would soon learn to recognize upon waking with amnesia.
But just as quickly, there was a soothing voice and a warm smile and a friendly pair of eyes. “It’s ok, Liv. It’s just me. You’re home.”
Her heart was still racing and, after a few deep breaths, she realized she was still clutching his shirt in terror. Smoothing out the wrinkles she’d made in his blue dress shirt, she tried to hide her fear behind a smile. “I guess I’m a little jumpy.”
His own fear reflected for a moment. “You know who I am, right?”
Her eyes narrowed and she thought maybe she had forgotten again. She didn’t know if it was really possible to wind up in a repetitive loop of wiping the slate clean, but maybe it was. Maybe every time she woke up, she would think she’d only been asleep for a short time when that wasn’t really the case. Panic overtook her and she gripped his shirt again, so tightly she heard a hiss as her nails caught skin.
“What did I forget this time?” Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him.
He winced as he looked at the cab driver. “I’m hoping you only forgot that you don’t like to embarrass yourself in public.”
She looked around and saw the thoroughly amused cabbie flashing her a toothless grin. Her stomach flipped over and she thought she might be sick. “You’re Elliot, right? My partner. That’s all I remember you telling me. Please don’t tell me there was more!”
The cabbie’s smile widened as he leered at her. “Hey, sweetheart, you must have forgot I’m your husband. Come on up here with me. I’ll help you remember.”
As she whimpered, she saw a wad of bills smack into the divider. “Asshole!” Elliot grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the cab.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t any less confused or afraid as she stared at Elliot. Tears were making their way down her face and she wanted nothing more than to bury herself in his arms until she felt better. But his eyes were still flashing with fire and she didn’t know if he was mad at her or not.
His hand stayed locked around her wrist while the other moved up to cup her cheek. “Sorry. I figured I didn’t stand a chance of solving both problems at once.” He wiped at the tears that weren’t stopping. “You knew a lot more than my name this morning, but as far as I can tell, you’re only suffering from one bout of amnesia.” He offered her a smile and turned away, seeming to believe that his vague reassurance was going to help.
Words were not going to fix the frightened way her heart continued to pound. Nor would it fix the way her whole body was trembling. She dove at him head first, trying to burrow her face into his neck as the rest of her body melded into his.
It felt like forever before his arms folded around her, pulling her across whatever fraction of measurable distance there was left between them. His face tucked down next to her ear as he rubbed her back. “I’m sorry, Liv. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s ok. You’re safe.” He held her for a long moment before he pulled back to smile at her. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Drawing in a shaky breath, she nodded. “I thought I’d forgotten everything again.” Her words were soft as she allowed him to lead her to the stairs.
He stopped about halfway there. “We should probably check your mail, right? I don’t want to be responsible for your electric getting shut off.”
She remained mute while he picked through what were apparently her keys, looking for the one to her mailbox. She watched while he gathered up a few envelopes and a couple of catalogs. She followed him back to the stairs.
As he was pushing open the door, he looked down at her feet. “What do you say we take the elevator tonight?”
She nodded. Her feet hurt terribly and she wondered what had possessed her to participate in that marathon he’d mentioned while she was wearing four inch heels. His fingers pressed the button for the fifth floor and she turned back to him. “I live on the fifth floor?” He nodded. “And I normally take the stairs?” He nodded again. “And I run in these shoes?” He looked at her feet again before nodding a third time. “Do I have any sense at all?”
He chuckled and passed through the open doors towards her apartment. “First of all, I’m pretty sure you wear those shoes just so you can stare me down. Besides that, yes, you do have sense. You’re usually far more sensible than I am.” He shrugged at her and unlocked her door. “You like to problem solve whereas I like to use my fists to solve problems.” He put his arm across the doorjamb, blocking her entrance and catching her eye. “And when you get your memory back, I fully expect you’ll pretend to forget that I ever admitted that.”
She nodded and ducked under his arm, taking in her apartment for the first time. It was furnished, but not decorated. “How long have I lived here?” She was expecting an answer in months, possibly weeks. There had to be unpacked boxes where she kept her personal things, things she hadn’t found time to arrange yet.
He was closing and locking the door and therefore missed the displeasure written on her face. “You’ve been here as long as I’ve known you. I don’t know how long before that.”
She sat down gingerly on the couch, which she found was far more comfortable than she would have thought. “And how long have I known you?” If she’d only been in her apartment for a few weeks, that would explain a lot. But it wouldn’t explain the closeness with Elliot.
He smiled, certainly far more comfortable than she was when he went into the kitchen, grabbed two beers, and plopped down beside her with his feet propped up on the coffee table. “A decade, give or take.”
She bit her lip and sighed before she leaned back to settle next to him. “I have no memory, no sense and no decorating skills. Is there anything I’m good at?”
It could have been the dim glow of the only light he’d turned on. It could have been the remnants of sleep clinging to her brain. It could have been the head injury itself.
But she was sure she saw him wink.
And his voice was at least an octave lower when he let a sexy grin spread across his face. “You’re good at a lot of things, Liv.”
Somehow, she suspected they weren’t things she could list on a resume.
She was trembling a moment later when she stood up, shakily stepping toward the kitchen. “Can I get a glass of water?”
“Damn, how did I forget your head? I’ll just have to drink both of these.” He motioned at the beers.
She doubted he’d have much of a problem finishing two since he downed half the first one in one gulp. But as sexy as the man was, he sure was good at being completely distracted from her. “Elliot?” He looked at her inquisitively. “Water?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
“I meant for me. Can I get some?”
He was quiet, like he was trying to decide if it was a trick question. “This is your apartment.”
She nodded. “Right, but at the moment, you know me better than I do. Would I want a stranger going through my stuff?”
“You’re not a stranger, Liv.” Perplexed though he was, he stood up and followed her to the kitchen. “You’d die before you’d drink tap water.” He pulled open the fridge and handed her a bottle of water. “Why don’t you go look around? Maybe something will jog your memory.”
He retreated to the living room. The monotone drone of the newscasters filled the silence, leaving her with no option of replying. She held tight to the bottle of water, holding it like a tether to Elliot, as she started poking around her own unfamiliar place. The first door she tried was a closet, brimming with coats and boots. A hundred different colors of hats and gloves filled the shelf and she shook her head, wondering why she had so many. Probably a different set to go with each coat, she decided adding a checkmark next to anal retentive in her personality inventory. Elliot liked her and Elliot was a decent guy. Still, Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if she would really like herself. She decided to give Elliot the benefit of the doubt and continued her exploration.
Her bathroom was pretty simple, beige tiles, blue mat, blue towels and a beige shower curtain decorated with seashells. The towels were neatly folded. The cord to her blow-dryer was untangled. The counter by the sink was clean and orderly, except for the unzipped makeup bag. She must have been in a hurry that morning because the mascara wasn’t quite sealed. Olivia tightened the cap, put it in the bag, and zipped it up. She inspected the tub, the inside of the shower curtain, and the corner behind the toilet. Checking the cabinet under the sink, she found a half-used box of tampons, a mostly empty spray bottle of multi-surface cleaner, and a pair of stained sponges, but there was no dust or dirty fingerprints or cobwebs. Happy to discover that she was adept at cleaning, she moved on to the bedroom through the second door in the bathroom.
Having seen the arranged bathroom, she determined she’d really been in a hurry that morning because the bed lay unmade. The comforter was soft and thick, boasting a pale rose color that immediately rubbed Olivia the wrong way. The sheets were stripped white and matching rose. She switched on the lamp and looked around. There was a small pile of clothes that all appeared to be jackets or pants. Probably dry cleaning - a quick check of the tag revealed her assessment was right. Her bureau housed a picture frame, a faded picture of a little girl holding a small gray kitten with two white feet. Curious, she slid the picture out to look at the back. ‘Olivia, age 3, and Mittens.’ The handwriting was neat and loopy. She decided it was her mother’s writing and replaced the picture carefully.
She opened the drawers, one at a time, investigating the contents. The first drawer was lingerie, tossed in a messy heap. Grinning, she unchecked anal retentive from her list. The next two drawers held t-shirts and some tops, less than neatly folded. The other two drawers were filled with exercise clothes - sports bras and shorts and pants. The top of the dresser held a small wooden jewelry box, holding a meager amount of jewelry, mostly plain gold or silver earrings and necklaces and one ring with a small yellowish stone. She held it up to look for an inscription. It was mostly worn off, but it appeared to be for a sixteenth something. She imagined it was her birthstone and frowned, wishing it had been something prettier, maybe blue to match a lot of the clothes she’d found. Closing the box, she inspected the only other thing on the dresser - a bottle of perfume. It was mostly gone and she was delighted to recognize the scent when she held it to her nose. The glee didn’t last long enough for her to call Elliot before she realized the smell was coming from her shirt. So much for jogging a memory.
She moved to the closet, finding mostly black suits, some sweaters, and a few pairs of slacks in other colors. Digging in the back, she came up with three dresses. One was fire engine red, full length, with a slit up to somewhere Olivia couldn’t imagine would be appropriate in public. She laughed, wondering what Elliot would think of it. Maybe she’d model it for him later. The other two dresses were black. One was knee length, with no sleeves and a round neckline, and she suspected one of the multitude of black blazers went with it. The other was certainly above the knee on her, made of something stretchy and clingy. The long sleeves were a nod to modesty, but the lack of a back and deep dip in the front erased any idea of modesty in the same breath. On the opposite side of her closet she found a zipped garment bag and she nearly squealed. A wedding dress, perhaps a prom dress, could even be her mother’s wedding gown. She was grinning when she unzipped the bag. She was utterly disappointed to find it only held a dress police uniform with patches and pins and insignia she didn’t recognize. Frustrated, she put it back and closed the door.
Purposely avoiding the mirror above the dresser, she sat down on the bed to examine the contents of the nightstands. The drawer in the first one she checked was boring. It held a small notebook with some numbers scribbled on it, a pen, and some lip balm. The only thing on top was an alarm clock, which revealed that she opted to wake at quarter after five. Checking her wrist watch and finding that it was almost seven, she was no longer even the least bit ashamed at having fallen asleep in the cab. Not with the hours she kept.
The other nightstand was slightly more interesting. The drawer was so full she could barely get it open, loaded with all sorts of crap. Her junk drawer apparently. She was mortified to identify the top item, the one closest to the front and most likely to have been accessed recently, as a box of condoms. Afraid that Elliot would appear and either want to use them or not, she slammed the drawer closed and looked at the framed photos lining the top instead. The first one made her smile, a teenage girl in a school uniform, clutching a fat gray cat to her chest. She slipped the picture loose to check and found a sloppy scrawl that read ‘Me + Mittens, 1986.’ She set that picture back and picked up the next, an older woman who had the same dark eyes, half smiling, holding a glass of wine in a toast to the photographer, in front of a crooked Christmas tree. When she pulled it loose, it had only been labeled with ‘1997’ and a question mark. She wondered why she couldn’t accurately date the photo that she assumed was of her mother.
There were two more pictures in a larger frame that was hinged in the center. Both pictures were remarkably alike for pictures that were obviously years apart. The one on the left was of her and Elliot, except that he looked a lot younger. Her hair was almost shoulder length, the same dark brown that was almost black she’d seen in the other pictures of herself. They were sitting next to each other at a picnic table, his hand just peeking around the far side of her waist. Her head was angled toward his. They both had huge grins on their faces, probably due to the laughing kids in their laps - a boy in hers, a girl in his. Again, there was no label and she wondered who the kids were. On the right side picture, they were next to each other, standing instead. Her arm was around his waist; his was around her shoulders. They’d both leaned toward each other so that his cheek was resting on her head, which she saw was topped with an odd tanish-brown bleach job and a cut that made Marines look rather lenient with the shears. Again, there were kids in the picture, but they were grinning blonde girls who could easily have been late teens or early twenties. There were many more lines on both hers and Elliot’s faces in the second picture, but what caught her eye was that it was Elliot’s left arm that was draped over her shoulder, his left hand falling forward on her chest. The left hand that wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Thoroughly confused, she checked the back and found nothing.
She was making a mental note to start labeling her pictures when she realized she wasn’t alone. Elliot was standing in the doorway. His suit coat was gone, as was his tie, the top three buttons of his shirt were undone, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to the elbows. A beer dangled from his fingers.
“It got quiet out there. Whacha up to?” He approached and sat down beside her on the bed.
“I was just looking at these pictures. Besides you, no one seems familiar.”
He motioned at the one of her as a teenager. “Not even you?”
She shook her head. “Haven’t looked in the mirror yet.”
“That must be weird. Not recognizing yourself.” His eyes were intent on hers and she felt a blush spring up in response.
“I’m afraid to look.” She tugged at the plastic bracelet she hadn’t taken off. “I know I was born in 1969, but I don’t know how long ago that was.”
Pulling his keys from his pocket, he held one of them against the thin edge of the plastic and jerked. The only piece of identification she could swear was her own fell to the floor. “I hate those things.” She watched him replace the keys and thus missed his other hand moving until he pushed her hair back from her face. “There’s no reason to be afraid of the mirror, Liv. You’re absolutely beautiful.” His eyes held hers, imprisoning her with his stare and his proximity and his scent.
Embarrassed and unnerved by the intensity she saw in his eyes, she offered him the joined frames. “When are these from?”
It took him a minute to refocus, but he did, a smile warming his face. “I didn’t know you had these.” He pointed at the first one, tracing his fingers over the children’s faces. “This was a Fourth of July picnic, nine years ago, I think. You came with Kathy and me and the kids.” He pointed at each of the kids in turn. “These are two of my kids. Dickie and his twin sister Lizzie. They’re sixteen now.”
She marveled at the young faces. “Wow. We have known each other a long time.”
He nodded. “And this one was probably two years ago?” He didn’t sound sure. “That’s Kathleen and Maureen, two more of my kids.” He thought about it for a minute. “Yeah, it would have to be two years ago - your hair was a lot longer last year.”
She didn’t even have time to wonder why he paid enough attention to her hair to be able to use it to date photos. Or to wonder just how many kids the man had.
His hand was back on her, combing through her hair. “It was weird seeing you with it long. You looked so different. I didn’t like it at the time. It reminded me that you and I were-“ His eyes fell from hers and he pulled his hand away, replacing the frame on the nightstand. “Never mind, it’s not important.”
She caught his hand, thinking he was hiding something that she needed to know. “No, what?” He looked at her and she could see his indecision. “Please? I have nothing unless you give it to me.”
He nodded slowly, taking a deep breath and then smiling at her. “We were going through a rough patch. We kind of grew apart there.” He shrugged and she noticed he was so close that she felt his shrug more than saw it. “I’m pretty sure it was all my fault. I was being a shit when Kathy was divorcing me.” She saw the way he twisted the wedding ring on his finger. “But everything’s back to normal now and,” he paused to look back at her, his fingers finding their way back into her hair, “and now I kind of miss it being long.”
“I’m sure there’s a reason I keep it short.” The conversation seemed to be heading into dangerous territory, although the only clue she had was the pounding of her heart.
His eyes were sliding all over her face and his hand hadn’t moved from where it just barely cupped the back of her head. He didn’t look like he’d heard her.
She noticed when his eyes stilled, finally coming to rest on her lips. Her mouth dropped open, in shock rather than invitation, but she realized he probably didn’t know the difference.
Because his face was moving closer and his hand was holding her still.
And before she could even form the thought that she, the new she who had only existed for a few hours, had never been kissed, his lips pressed against hers. His mouth was hungry and his tongue insistent. She didn’t have a chance to be nervous or scared as she opened her mouth fully to his, allowing his tongue to probe against her own.
She had only instinct to go on and all of her instincts told her to trust him.
So she offered no resistance when she felt his weight shifting, pushing her down on the bed.
Chapter Five
She felt like she imagined teenagers might feel, fumbling around for the first time. Terrified. Turned on. Emotional. Confused. She didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t know if she was kissing right. She didn’t know if she’d been with him in such a position before; she didn’t know if he noticed or cared about a difference in her response. But her body seemed to know what it was doing without her conscious input. Her hands roamed freely over his back, feeling the thick muscles moving under his skin as he supported himself above her. His whole body was pressing against hers, allowing her to feel how very much he wanted her. She had no experience, none that she could recall at least, but it seemed that he’d reacted to the contact so fast that he must have been anticipating it, or perhaps simply wanting it for a very long time.
His mouth held hers for what seemed like forever, convincing her that whatever she was doing was fine by him. His lips slowly moved away from hers, grazing her cheek and chin before settling in for a more determined examination of her neck. She felt him nip at the base of her throat, at the tender skin along the exposed portion of her collarbone. She barely noticed his balance shift to one arm or when he tugged her shirt loose from her pants, but she definitely felt it when he slipped under her shirt to caress the skin of her stomach and side. Her legs moved on their own, shifting her hips against his and drawing a gasp from both of them as his erection pressed hard against her. It felt so good that her fingers curled tightly, nails digging into his flesh right through his shirt.
Or maybe that was from the way his teeth had latched onto her earlobe as he sucked on it.
Just friends my ass, she thought.
She thought about the condoms too, the ones she’d just found in the drawer of her nightstand. She wondered if he was the reason she kept them. She wondered if she should mention that she had them. She wondered when was the appropriate time to mention such a thing.
She wondered why his mouth, which had been doing unspeakably glorious things to her body, was hovering several inches above her. It was hanging open and he was staring at her. Deciding she must have done something wrong, missed some cue as to what she was supposed to do, she attempted to make up for it. She lifted her head, closing the distance between them and claiming his lips.
He responded immediately, lowering his head back down to continue the kiss. She congratulated herself for getting it right.
But then he pulled back again, straightening his arms as he pushed himself further away. He was shaking his head and his mouth was moving. He was mumbling something, but she couldn’t understand him. She didn’t want to. She only wanted to figure out how to reattach his lips to her skin. He had moved back to a sitting position. She followed, doing her best to lessen the space between them. She’d much preferred it when his body had been resting on hers, keeping the maximum amount of contact possible while they were still clothed. She reached for him, trying to get a hold on his shirt to pull him back to her.
He caught her hands before she succeeded in grabbing him, holding her wrists gently but firmly away from him. Her eyes darted to his, trying to read him, trying to figure out what she’d done. He gave nothing away except that he was clearly upset, horrified actually, by something.
She couldn’t believe she’d screwed up so badly. Her chin started to tremble, fearing he was so upset that he would leave her completely alone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean it. Just tell me what happened and I’ll-“
He put a finger to her lips to silence her. “I shouldn’t have done that.” His head ducked down and she could see that he was trembling when he took a breath. He continued without looking at her and she hated that he wouldn’t give her the comfort of eye contact. “I’m sorry, Liv. I’m so, so sorry.” He stood up, shaking his head, as his face crumbled. “Please forgive me for that.”
Then he was gone, disappearing from her room so quickly she questioned for a moment if the whole thing had happened or if she’d simply imagined the interlude. Her own legs were shaky as she gave chase. She had to stop him before he abandoned her. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts, the thoughts that would fixate on what awful thing she’d done that had sent him scurrying from her when his body so clearly wanted to stay. She felt tears forming, knowing that whatever she’d done must have been truly hideous to merit such a reaction from him.
She found him on the couch with his face in his hands. “Elliot?” She stood in the hall, leaning in the doorway. She didn’t want to crowd him for fear he’d run further.
He was still mumbling and shaking his head, but she got the distinct impression he wasn’t talking to anyone, except possibly god. He did look up, indicating that he’d heard her, but he didn’t say a word, at least not to her.
“I’m sorry. I really don’t know what I did.” She looked down, feeling her cheeks burning in embarrassment. “I don’t remember anything, Elliot, I didn’t know what I was doing.” It was a hard thing to admit because she had the sense to know that she should have known, that any other day, she would have known. She stared at the carpeting and wondered how long it would take him to answer. It took much longer than she expected and finally, she looked up when the curiosity outweighed the anxiety.
He was staring at her, his face scrunched and twisted in visible hurt. His mouth worked and moved, but no sound came out. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He closed his eyes and finally croaked out words. “It’s not you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Trusting his words, she felt more comfortable going into the living room to sit beside him. “Then what happened?”
He turned away to stare straight ahead, shaking his head again. “I forgot for a moment.” He winced, his unhappiness with someone considerably more obvious than the source. And then his hand covered hers, his warmth infusing her with heat once again. A rueful smile formed on his lips as he half glanced at her. “For a minute there, it was just you and me and none of the other bullshit, you know?” His hand released hers. “I wasn’t thinking that you didn’t remember me. Or us.”
She smiled, not fully comprehending what he was trying to tell her. “I thought there was no us.”
His eyes darted to hers and she knew he expected they would dart away just as quickly. Instead, the moment his eyes found hers, a startling, irresistible heat filled the air between them, holding them hostage with its searing grasp. Rather than the response he’d planned, Elliot could only stare at her. He wanted to kiss her again, she could read that much even in a face that was technically unfamiliar to her.
What she hadn’t anticipated was her own reaction to him, even having experienced the brief exchange in the bedroom. She could feel her body’s reaction to him, to his stare, to his desire. Her body was drawn to his, yearning for his touch, as though it remembered a nexus that her mind did not. It seemed there was a magnetic force pulling her into his arms and it took all of her strength to resist it.
She could hardly blame him for having kissed her; she wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d given into the pull himself and kissed her again. In fact, she kind of hoped he would.
Eventually, he managed to drag his eyes away, clearing his throat and pressing his fists into his thighs. “You might look at me and see a stranger, Liv, but when I look at you, I don’t. I see you, the same as you always have been.” He shook his head. “But different. Open. Willing. Like you wanted me to kiss you. I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”
It hit her like a ton of bricks. What he was trying to tell her, what he’d been struggling with when he ran from her, was simply that he didn’t like her. Well, he didn’t like her as much as he liked the woman he knew. Who, evidently, she only sort of resembled. She took a breath, fighting to get it past the painful clenching in her chest. She nodded, wondering if her voice would reveal the way she was aching. “Right, ok. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-“
“Shhh.” He reached out for her hand again. His eyes moved toward her, but they stopped a little shy of meeting hers. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Liv. I mean that. I never should have touched you. I should have remembered that you’re not really you.” His fingers traced lightly over her palm. She wondered if he felt the shudder that ran through her. If he did, he didn’t give any indication.
“You weren’t wrong either.” Her voice was stronger, but still soft. Her chest was still constricted with the pain of rejection. “I did want you to kiss me.”
“But it’s not your body. You can’t consent to anything unless you remember your life. You might as well be drunk.” He pulled his hand back, letting a frustrated sigh explain why he’d cut short the contact she was reveling in. “It’s worse than being drunk. At least when you’re drunk you still have some concept of who you are.” He stood up suddenly, disappearing into the kitchen while Olivia stared after him. He returned quickly, holding another beer which was already half gone. “I’m a fucking monster. Jumping you when you have no one else to turn to.” He dropped into the arm chair on the other side of the table. “As soon as you get your memory back, I want you to press charges. I had no right and I’m sorry and I promise I won’t deny it.”
She wanted to argue, scream that it was her body, even if she had no idea what she would normally do with it, but there was no point. Elliot wasn’t about to change his mind. The fact was that he wouldn’t listen to a word she said, not really. He’d given that much away with his words - no matter what she said, he wouldn’t believe any of it until she was back to normal. The whole idea was crushingly painful, but she refused to think about it until she was alone. She wanted to argue, to tell him that she did know him, to explain how her body recognized him, to demand to know why he was the only thing she felt any connection to when she didn’t even recognize herself.
Standing up, she stepped next to him and waited until he looked at her. As much as she knew it was pointless to fight, she couldn’t resist it. “It is my body. I did want you to kiss me. That’s all there is to it.”
He looked up at her, his eyes hooded with guilt and self-reproach. “If you did, it only proves my point. If I’d kissed you any other day, you would have shot me. And as soon as you get your memory back you probably will.” He looked down at his hands twisting in his lap.
“I can tell you right now that is categorically untrue.” She squatted down to get his attention, demanding that he look at her by leaning in until he did. “That’s one thing I’m certain of, Elliot.” And she was. Because the attraction, the familiarity, the emotional entanglement between them had survived the amnesia that had stolen everything else from her. Whatever they shared, it existed on an inherent, intrinsic, instinctive level. It wasn’t something that could be denied.
“If you wanted me to kiss you so bad, don’t you think it would have happened by now?” His eyes were all over, like he knew he’d kiss her again given a chance and he didn’t have a clue what to do about it.
“Honestly, with what I feel, I don’t know how it hasn’t happened by now.” And it was true. She had been attracted to him the moment she saw him. She couldn’t imagine the blinding desire to touch him ever fading away. But when she thought about his words, he’d given her part of the answer she’d been questioning about their relationship. “We’ve really never kissed before?”
He shook his head slowly before dropping it into his hands. “Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?”
She knew he was dead serious, convinced he’d done something wrong, but she didn’t know what to do to diffuse that situation. So she reached for one of his wrists, pulling his hand away until she could see his face. She grinned. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I guess it’s a good thing I lost my memory or you never would have made a move.”
His initial response was a smile, a faint hint of a laugh as he met her gaze. But it was gone that fast and she realized he’d done it again, in that one second, forgotten that she wasn’t the woman he knew. And for a moment, she felt terribly sorry for him. It wasn’t confusing to her - she didn’t have another version of Elliot with whom to confuse him.
His hand moved to her face, only barely making contact with her cheek. “I’m sorry, Liv. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never meant to take advantage of you. Please remember that when you come back, ok?”
She stood up, hating that he was talking to her like she was her own damn secretary. “What if she’s not coming back?” It was a possibility the doctor had mentioned, one that he’d only vaguely glossed over because, Olivia figured, spending more time on it might make people like Elliot very angry.
Figuring her mention of such bad news would have the same effect on him, she didn’t wait around to hear his answer. She walked away and closed her bedroom door behind her, knowing Elliot wasn’t going to come anywhere near her for the rest of the night.