L&O: SVU fic: Blank 2

[jezyk]

part 2...

Chapter Six

Judging from how tired she’d been in the cab, Olivia expected that she could use a good night’s sleep. Her mind kept returning to the grimy floor of the warehouse and the multitude of people who’d poked and prodded her, so she decided a hot shower was needed first. She didn’t think Elliot would come near her, but even so, she contemplated the lock on the bathroom door and wondered if Liv was the type who would lock it regardless of who was on the other side.

Olivia decided to leave it closed, but unlocked. Maybe she was wrong, but Elliot hadn’t struck her as the type to barge in on anyone, especially not her with the way he’d been berating himself for touching her. She started the water, turning the dial fully to hot and allowing steam to permeate both the bathroom and bedroom. There was a thick pink robe hanging on the back of the door next to a light blue nightshirt.

It struck her then, staring at two items that should have been intimately familiar, that she’d suffered a terrible loss. She’d spent the evening concentrating on understanding, on figuring out who she was, what she was like, but she hadn’t felt much of anything. There’d been fear, of course, a base instinctual reaction to her confusion. She was afraid of everything, not knowing what to say or do or how to act and constantly questioning if her decisions would have been the same had she had even an inkling of who she really was. However, because the fear was at the bottom of everything, she’d overlooked it. She’d accepted it logically as necessary for her survival.

But the loss was a new feeling, a hollow, painful hole in her soul. She sat down on the edge of the tub, trying to comprehend the full situation. She was no one. She had nothing. She didn’t know what her favorite color was. She didn’t know what she liked to eat. She didn’t know if she had a boyfriend. She couldn’t identify her first love, her own address, her parents’ faces, or even her pocketbook. As tears began to mingle with the steam collecting on her cheeks, she hated that she didn’t even know if she was to sort of woman who would cry at the drop of a hat or if she preferred to keep it all inside.

She wrapped her arms around her middle tightly to console herself. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, turn to Elliot. Because he honestly didn’t know her. He knew Liv, he cared about Liv, he was there waiting for Liv to reappear.

But she was Olivia. A blank slate. An empty page that she couldn’t write on.

Because if she were to make any decisions on her own, she knew they would only be temporary. At least, she could only expect them to be temporary - decisions that would be unmade and changed and erased as soon as Liv came back. Whenever that was.

And that knowledge, especially coupled with the idea that Olivia might live everyday of her life until the day she died waiting for someone who was never coming back, made her feel like shit. She was a person of no consequence. Someone who existed only to fill a void. Someone who would immediately disappear and never be remembered or missed.

She stayed there, long after the water had run cold and annihilated the warm, comforting fog that surrounded her, until she realized she had a new feeling. She hated Liv. Whoever that woman was whose mere existence threatened her own, Olivia hated her. She didn’t want to wear her clothes or sleep on her sheets or use her soap. Olivia wanted all new things. She wanted to go to a store and buy some clothes and toiletries and bedding. She wanted to start fresh. With a more defined purpose, she stood up, turned off the water, and walked toward the living room.

Having long since abandoned the ridiculous shoes the other woman chose, Olivia’s bare feet made no sound as she covered the tile floor. But she paused outside the kitchen, her ears pricking at the sound of Elliot’s voice, soft yet angry. She peeked over the breakfast bar, trying to determine if he was on the phone or if someone had stopped by. Seeing no one, she stayed where she was, not caring if Liv would have eavesdropped or not. Olivia wanted to know what was going on.

Of course, the moment she made that decision, he stopped saying much of anything.

“Yeah…It’ll be fine… I know… I’m sorry.”

There was quiet for a long time, but she didn’t move. She figured it would be more obvious when he actually hung up.

“Just tell Lizzie that I’m sorry.” His sigh was so loud she wondered if the neighbors heard it. “Damn it, put her on the phone and I’ll tell her myself then.” She watched in amazement as he picked up one of the catalogs that came with her mail and hurled it across the room. His head turned suddenly, as though he’d feared she might have heard it, and he watched the hallway. Olivia was glad she’d concealed herself in the kitchen.

Just in case, she grabbed a box from the cabinet and pretended to be fascinated with the ingredient list. It wouldn’t due to piss the man off, not when he obviously had issues controlling his temper.

“God damn it, Kathy! Olivia is hurt and I’m staying here.” Due to the volume of his phone that she’d noticed earlier, she could hear the noise of a woman yelling, although she couldn’t hear what was being said. “You know, I would have thought you of all people would understand someone not wanting to be alone when they’re injured.” Another catalog sailed through the air and Olivia idly hoped there was nothing fragile in the room for him to throw. “Fine. Do whatever you want. I’m not leaving her.” He stopped for a moment, leaving Olivia to think about how staunchly he was defending her need for him. “I’m not having this discus-“ His word cut off suddenly and Olivia froze, her eyes darting back to the box of crackers, hoping her presence hadn’t been the cause of his sudden silence.

But when he continued again, the hard edge to his voice actually sent chills through her. “Go to hell. I’ll see you in court then.”

Forgetting about the crackers, and the reasons she’d had for going out there in the first place, Olivia backed up, not stopping until she’d very carefully closed the bedroom door behind her. What she’d heard scared her. Scared her so much that she wondered if maybe some of that fear was coming from whatever of Liv was still buried inside her.

Because she was pretty certain that her friend-partner-maybe lover-whatever had just separated from his wife.

Because of her.

There were footsteps in the hall, sending Olivia into a full-on panic. She’d been standing there, thinking she’d found safety in her room, but she’d been wrong. Elliot was a detective, which meant he’d probably notice that her hair wasn’t wet from the shower and that she hadn’t changed her clothes and that her eyes were probably still red from crying. She dove for the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin and praying he hadn’t caught her spying.

She needn’t have been so scared because rather than striding into her room, he only knocked softly. She wanted to call out to him, to let him know she was there, to listen to whatever he wanted to tell her. But her voice wouldn’t respond and she angrily thought it preferred Liv’s commands to hers. The idea made her wonder, yet again, what Liv would have done in that situation. Knowing something she wasn’t supposed to know - would she have answered his attempt to seek comfort from her or would she have turned him away?

Something inside her told her that Liv would run and hide, something that told her that was clearly the case or she and Elliot certainly would have kissed in all the time they’d been together. Of course, his words could have been untrue, perhaps to spare him the discomfort of cheating on Liv with Olivia.

“Good night, Liv.” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, and the dejected tone told her she’d been right about the hiding. He didn’t seem surprised that she wouldn’t talk to him.

It about broke her heart and luckily, it also broke Liv’s strangle hold on Olivia’s ability to speak. “El?”

There was a pause, maybe as he questioned his luck, before he pushed open the door. Olivia sat up, trying to feign having just woken up. She smiled as she searched his face for any sign that he’d just had a marriage-ending argument with his wife.

“I just wanted to check on you.” Unlike the previous time, he stayed in the hall, not even opening the door fully. “See how you’re doing.”

She wished she could think of some way to get him to talk, to admit to her what she already knew, and then she thought better of it. Olivia was terribly curious to see how, if, his behavior with her would change. “I’m tired.”

He nodded, pulling the door closer to him. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It’s ok.” She was kind of hoping he was looking for somewhere to sleep. She wondered if she should invite him. But then she feared it would be too presumptuous, too obvious that she knew what had just happened.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

The wheels started to turn immediately as she tried to come up with a valid reason to need him. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think of anything.

“Go back to sleep. Night.” He pulled the door closed behind him without waiting for her response.

She was quite irritated with herself for having let him get away and she made a decision. Maybe Liv was happy with keeping their relationship the way it was. Maybe Liv was going to reappear at any moment. But until that happened, Olivia was going to make her own decisions.

And her first decision was that she was going after Elliot. No sense in giving him another opportunity to go back to his wife, the wife he’d admitted had tried to divorce him before. She wasn’t about to let him slip away without a fight.

Chapter Seven

She expected sleep would come quickly, the only real comfort she’d found had been the few minutes of rest in the cab with Elliot. But every time her body fully relaxed and her mind started to drift, something inside her would panic. It felt like she was forgetting something, an idea that caused her to snicker angrily. Of course she was forgetting something. She was forgetting everything.

Still, there was something about the darkness and the quiet that terrified her.

She switched on the lamp on her bedside table and settled back in bed. But then she felt stupid, trying to sleep fully dressed with the light on. If Elliot were to check on her again, he’d think she was a freak. So she got up, heading for the nightshirt in the bathroom. It fit her loosely, hanging down to almost her knees. She didn’t like it at all.

Tossing it on the floor, she started opening drawers until she found a tank top and pants. Comfortable enough to sleep in, she knew, and flattering enough, she thought with a grin, to catch Elliot’s attention in the morning. Determined not to give into her fears, she turned off the light and climbed back in bed.

But the shadows were still taunting her, whispering to her that there were plenty of things to be afraid of, if only she could remember them, promising her that they remembered her even if she didn’t remember them. She decided to open the bedroom door a bit, rationalizing that Elliot was there and would be easy enough to get to if she needed him.

Sleep did come eventually, her upset and confusion finally giving way to sheer exhaustion in the wee hours.

But there was little rest. What the head injury had blocked from her consciousness was still there, completely intact, hiding in the recesses of her brain, just waiting for the opportunity to spring forth. It was the same stuff that stopped Liv long before she got too drunk, that kept her from confiding in people, that prevented her from ever really processing all the horrors she saw in her life.

The images were dark and ugly and scary and angry and bloody and painful. She saw dead babies and hurt women and terrorized men. She saw monsters in the guise of normal people. She saw evil lurking in the most harmless of places. She felt hatred and violence and obsession directed at her. No one and nowhere and nothing was safe. Not ever. She couldn’t breathe, choking on sobs and fear, fighting past the threatening hands on her. She couldn’t move, her own terror working with the faceless shadows to keep her prisoner. Finally, she managed to take in a breath, only to have it escape in the most horrific scream she could imagine. She was in hell. Absolute hell. She wanted to die; she was that scared.

The hands continued to paw at her, never giving her a chance to escape, even if her shaking, sobbing body had been willing to cooperate. She heard a whimper, a terrified, traumatized whimper in a small, broken voice, and was horrified to realize it had come from her. With all her strength, she fought against the demons, willing her uncooperative body to follow her commands, demanding that she at least try to survive.

But it was useless, the grip was too tight, too strong, to escape and she felt her pathetic muscles giving out on her. Tears were pouring from her eyes when she gave in, realizing that she would never get free.

Rather than continuing to attack her, the arms were gentle, holding her softly, keeping her shuddering body cradled against something strong and warm. The hands were caressing her, lightly running over the bare skin of her arms and shoulders and back. The sounds that had been tormenting and inhuman were different, warm and soothing and so familiar. Her face instinctively moved toward them, finding his face next to hers, listening to the reassurances he was offering.

“Shush, it’s ok, baby. I’ve got you.”

She twisted toward him, fear still coursing through her, and wrapped her arms around him. If the move was unfamiliar to him, he gave no indication as he welcomed her touch. His hand cupped the back of her head, continuing to issue promises that she was safe, as she sobbed in his arms.

She didn’t know how long she stayed there, hysterical and crying and sniffling and hiccupping, but he didn’t try to move her. His hands moved over her, as comforting as his voice, with promises that her nightmares weren’t real, that it was all ok, that she was perfectly safe. Olivia relaxed against him, thinking the only sleep she would ever get would be while she was in his arms. The dreams, the nightmares, had been so bad that she never wanted to dare close her eyes alone again.

Her heart was still slamming into her chest and her body was still shivering. He’d settled himself against the headboard, keeping her in his lap and covering her with a blanket. Even as sleep began to over take him, even after his hands had stilled and his hold had loosened, his arms were still around her, his warmth promising to keep her safe.

She didn’t want to sleep, not even with him right there. She didn’t feel safe. She doubted she ever would again. She didn’t want him to sleep either. Turning her face up slightly from the protection of his neck, she whispered in his ear. “It was horrible.”

One of his hands rubbed over her back before settling at her waist again. “I know. It’s ok. Go back to sleep.”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid.” And she was, terrified of the ideas in her head, despising herself for dreaming them up.

“It was just a dream, Liv. Nothing’s going to hurt you.” His hold tightened again, pressing her into his chest. “I’m here, Liv. You can sleep.”

She shook her head again, more emphatic in her response. “No, no, you don’t understand.” A sob unexpectedly escaped, distorting her voice. “The things I saw the people the -oh, God, why did I think of that, of those horrible things-“ She could barely force out the words as the images came back unbidden. Death and rape and pain and hideous scenes painted with blood. “I can’t. I can’t. I don’t ever want to sleep.” She actually tried to push out of his arms, shaking her head in an attempt to rid herself of the ideas. “I want this stuff out of my head. What’s wrong with me?” She wanted a shower. She wanted to stand under the hot spray and scrub at her head until she was clean. Really clean, from the inside out.

His arms fought her, refusing to give her any space, pulling her closer than she had been, as though he was trying to fuse their bodies into one. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Liv.” He shook his head, tears forming in his eyes as he spoke. “You can’t get it out of your head. No one can. It’s just there.”

“No, no, people don’t think these things.” She began to rock back and forth, pulling him with her since he wouldn’t allow her any room. “Please make it stop.”

He finally released her, letting her sit back enough to look him in the eye. “I can’t.”

“What did I do? Did I do something awful? Why do I see this stuff?”

He shook his head and moved his hands to her face, letting them slip back to lace through her hair. “No, Liv, it’s just what we do.” His thumbs moved forward, brushing at her tears. “Don’t think about it. Just don’t. That’s all we can do.”

“What do you mean, it’s what we do?” A cold shiver of fear shook her. “I thought we were cops.”

He shook his head and averted his eyes. “It’s Special Victims, Liv. They don’t leave you. Ever.” When she tried to ask him what that meant, how that explained the repulsive things she saw, he refused to explain it. Instead his hands cupped her cheeks and he looked into her eyes. “You never let me protect you. This is my chance. Don’t think about it anymore. You’ll remember it soon enough. I’m not going to tell you about awful things, Liv.”

She couldn’t imagine the way she had to live, the things she had to see, the rules she must have to put around herself to keep from falling apart. Just like that, she didn’t hate Liv anymore, not with what she could see of the woman’s strength. But she sure as hell didn’t want to be her either.

She nodded, accepting his offer of whatever protection she could find. “I don’t want to remember.”

“You don’t have to.” There was something in his eyes, a promise, an oath, that he would stay with her, that he would still be her friend, that he would respect her, even if she never returned to the woman he knew. The love was so obvious in his gaze that she couldn’t believe there was really nothing between them. The way he was looking at her was practically an admission that something was going on.

And when he moved a moment later, covering her lips with his, she had all the proof she needed.

The kiss was like the first, the same unbelievable intensity, the same passionate response from his body. His hands wove through her hair, pinning her face to his. Her arms looped around him, not giving him any space to get away. She was in a much better position, she realized, because being in his lap gave her the control. Shifting her legs, she felt his burgeoning erection. She was killing two birds with one stone - keeping her mind occupied away from her dreams and scoring her man in the process.

Her hips’ realignment did not go unnoticed by Elliot. His hands released her hair and moved down to her waist, pulling her down while he thrust up.

It was the most perfectly wonderful feeling she’d ever felt.

Not that it was saying a lot, she knew, but she suspected she’d feel that way even if she had full command of her memories.

But just as quickly as she thought she was going to get what she wanted, his embrace turned cold. His mouth abandoned hers, his hands shoved her body off his. He didn’t even look at where she’d fallen when he sprung from the bed and tore through the door.

What the fuck.

Rubbing her hand over her sore hip where she’d hit the nightstand, due entirely to Elliot’s thoughtless actions, she wondered what she was supposed to do. He wanted her. Obviously. She wanted him. Obviously. His marriage was over. She had no idea what was stopping him, especially since her nightmares revealed that Liv was alive and well somewhere in there.

A few irate, silent minutes later, she made her way out of the bedroom. He was in the kitchen, a half drank glass of orange juice beside him on the counter. His chest was heaving and he looked angry. But the moment he noticed her, she watched his eyes widen, taking in her close-fitting clothing like he hadn’t been able to while she was under the covers. He no longer seemed at all angry when she stepped in front of him. His body betrayed him, his still hard length rubbing her as she closed the distance between them.

“Don’t run away from me, Elliot.” Then she took charge, grabbing his head and pulling it down to hers, her tongue invading his half-open mouth before he probably realized what she was doing.

The kiss was much shorter, but it ended much the same way, with his hands gripping her wrists, then shoving her harshly, violently away from him.

“Stop it.” His voice was loud and angry and she didn’t like that it was directed at her.

“Why?” Boldly she stepped forward, indicating the erection tenting his pants. “You don’t really want that and we both know it.”

Anger flashed in his eyes and he snarled. That was all the warning she got. The glass sailed past her head a moment later, raining juice and glass over her when it shattered against the cabinet behind her.

“Get the fuck away from me!”

She shrieked from the ferocity of his voice, from the intimidating way he stepped toward her.

The next thing she heard was the front door slamming behind him. She sank to her knees, amid the shards and liquid, wondering if he was ever coming back, unsure how she would face the dark without knowing he was there, wishing she could remember something that would fix what she’d just ruined.

And terrified that Elliot wasn’t as perfect as he’d seemed. She’d already witnessed his inability to control his temper several times that night. Overwhelming fear consumed her that some of the images in her nightmares were sparked by the furious brutality she suspected could stem from him. Perhaps that was the reason he didn’t want to tell her about them. Perhaps he was the reason she didn’t want to remember.

Chapter Eight

Shaking, she fought for the millionth time to find a memory. Was it possible that she was a battered woman? Could Elliot be one of those charming, handsome men who unleashed his demons on a smaller, weaker person?

She didn’t feel the cold liquid soaking her pants. She didn’t feel the pieces of glass cutting into her skin. She was busy, examining what she could see of her body. Her bare arms held some bruises, some new and purple, some old and brown. There were scars too, the ages of which she couldn’t even begin to guess, except for one. It ran along the length of her left forearm, the shiny, pink puckering terribly new against the tan of her skin. It was mostly straight, a bit jagged at the ends.

A knife. She somehow knew it, although she couldn’t say from instinct or recollection.

Failing to uncover any definitive memories, she tried to envision Elliot, as furious as she’d just seen him, coming at her with a knife, striking at her, tearing through her skin mercilessly.

But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t reconcile that idea with the sweet, tender caress of the man who’d comforted her after her nightmare. She could easily bring up pictures of him bringing her flowers or cooking her dinner or asking her to dance, but she couldn’t see him cutting her, drawing blood. She couldn’t force herself to see him hurting her in any way.

It brought her no comfort though, because she’d just seen him snap, roughly laying his hands on her to shove her away, throwing something at her, yelling at her.

She wanted to think he couldn’t hurt her. But she couldn’t quite convince herself it was true.

She felt weak. Her hands and arms were still shaking and the more she tried to stop it, the more parts of her seemed to tremble. Unsure of what else to do, she reached out, gathering the broken pieces of the glass towards her. The shards pierced her skin, the acid of the juice burning as it seeped into her cuts. She didn’t feel it. She just continued to collect the mess with her hands, sweeping it around her until she was surrounded by it, as though a mop and a broom might clean her up with the rest. Olivia couldn’t see through the tears or hear past her own silent screams.

She didn’t hear him come back. She didn’t hear his footsteps as he walked down the hall, searching for her first in her bedroom, then in the bathroom, not even once thinking she’d still be in the kitchen. She didn’t hear the gasp he let out when he finally found her, sobbing and shivering and bleeding on the floor, looking every bit as broken as the glass that had absorbed the brunt of his outburst. She didn’t hear the words he said as he tried to apologize.

But she did feel his hands, hands that were larger and stronger and more imposing than she’d realized, when they closed around her upper arms. Her legs were like jelly, loose and uncoordinated, but fear prompted her to struggle to her feet at his urging. Fear that he would be mad if she resisted. Fear that he’d be even angrier to find her still there. Fear that he was going to lash out again.

She didn’t even know what was going on as she sobbed hysterically, terrified that his hands were going to hurt her. He was all she had to hold onto and she didn’t know what to do if he turned against her. Her apology found its way from her quivering lips, begging forgiveness, promising she’d do whatever he asked, telling him over and over again that she’d do anything, absolutely anything, if he just wouldn’t leave her.

When her eyes cleared, the result of having cried until there were simply no more tears left, she found herself in the bathroom. She was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. Elliot was perched on the edge of the tub across from her, her legs resting across his lap, her pants pushed up above her knees. He was dabbing at the cuts with some liquid that stung more than the juice had, but she didn’t make a sound. She just stared, waiting for the other shoe to drop as he inspected her knees to make sure there were no bits of glass before he applied a few bandages.

He moved on to her hands then, after carefully fixing her pants, making sure to stretch them well over her knees so it wouldn’t hurt. She winced involuntarily as he prodded one of the cuts. He looked up to reach past her for the tweezers on the counter and she was shocked to see his eyes were red and swollen. She wasn’t the only one crying her eyes out, apparently. But neither said anything as he held her hand right up to his eyes to pick out the bit of glass with the tweezers. He treated her hands the same as he had her knees, cleaning and bandaging them for her.

Finished with his ministrations, he gently set her hands on her lap. She waited for him to tell her what to do. She’d learned her lesson well; she wasn’t going to do anything unless he asked her to. But he didn’t say a thing. He only stared at her, his face an unreadable mask.

What he did next scared her more than even his temper had, revealed more of him than she was willing to bet Liv had ever seen.

He slid forward from the tub, onto his knees in front of her, his face crumbling, his hands moving to support his head as it fell into her lap. He was shaking, sobbing, worse than she had been, his unrecognizable voice begging for her mercy, her forgiveness. She wasn’t even completely sure what he was saying besides that, only fully understanding that he was very, very sorry and that he’d never meant to scare her.

She’d thought there were no tears left inside her, but there were. They sprang forth in response to his pleas, condemning her for hurting him so terribly. She knew, somehow absolutely, that the man on his knees before her, beyond destroyed at the idea that he’d caused her physical pain, had never, ever hurt her. He’d never raised a hand to her; he never would. He’d been upset, his temper had raged, but he’d taken it out on a glass, never intending for her to be injured. He’d actually been looking for a way to expel his frustration on something besides her.

Slipping forward off the toilet, half in his lap and half on the floor, she wrapped her arms around him and held onto him for dear life.

The morning found her warm and safe, tucked into her bed with the shades drawn against the bright light of the sun. From the bed, she could see into the bathroom, the light still burning, displaying the box of bandages, the bottle of antiseptic, the tissues he’d been using to clean her wounds - all left on the floor by the tub. She sat up and stretched, feeling the torn skin of her knees and palms resisting the movement. Moving to remake the bed, she inspected the pillow she hadn’t been laying on, the wrinkled pattern on the sheets, and wondered if she’d spent the night there alone or if Elliot’s arms had held her close.

Sleep or not, she didn’t feel particularly rested. Her body moved slowly as she dressed, opting against a shower on the grounds that it would make a mess out of the care he’d taken of her cuts, and chose a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt. There was no point in trying to entice the man anymore. Whatever the hell their relationship was, it was a Pandora’s box that she wasn’t going to dare touch with a ten-foot pole. They’d start new, she decided. Their history was wiped clean, like her memory, and they’d resolve anything that needed resolving if and when she knew what she was getting into. She slipped on some thick socks and her running shoes, pretending she didn’t see pair after pair of high heeled black leather shoes in her closet, and headed into the bathroom.

She brushed her teeth first, still avoiding the mirror, as she prepared to take a good look. She suspected the damage from crying and getting hit in the head and sleeping in her makeup would render her unspeakably abhorrent, something from a horror movie. Taking a deep breath, she looked at herself for the first time. The requisite streaks of mascara and eye liner were there from crying. Her eyes were still tinged with red. The side of her temple was a discolored purple shade that extended into her hair, not looking anything like she expected, considering the blow had pretty much ruined her life, and quite possibly Elliot’s as well.

She poked through the medicine cabinet for some makeup remover and gently scrubbed away the face she didn’t remember putting on. Then she patted herself dry and ran her fingers through her hair. Without the dramatic black streaks stemming from her eyes, she doubted anyone would have an idea of the hell she’d been through. There were bags, deep, tired ones, under her eyes, which she immediately identified as being her price to pay for keeping those nightmares away. A few small creases around her mouth, as likely from smiling as from the tight way she’d pursed her lips while studied her reflection.

Objectively, as someone who really didn’t know Olivia Benson much besides the fact that she had a horrible job and a wonderful partner, Olivia decided she was pretty. She tried smiling, tried to convince herself she was happy, just to see what she looked like. She had a nice smile, straight, white teeth, full lips. She saw the faintest hint of a dimple if she smiled just so. Her cheekbones were high and defined, her eyes big and brown, a tiny furrow between her eyebrows that made her think she was never quite sure she believed what people were telling her. The only thing she didn’t like was her nose, so she didn’t dwell on it. She suspected that, with the addition of a little makeup, she could turn heads.

She had seen the drawers full of workout clothes, as well as the nearly worn-through soles of her sneakers, and took a step back to admire her figure in the mirror. She was tall and thin, and with a smirk, she bet there were quite a few women who hated her for that. Her eyes darted toward the door, paranoia poking through as she raised her shirt halfway to see her chiseled stomach. She used those clothes she’d found, probably worked the hell out of her body and mind, resulting in the reward of a great body and enough exhaustion to sleep.

A sudden thought of those dresses in her closet, coupled with the sculpted body she had, and the right shade of lipstick - forget turning heads. She could stop traffic.

It certainly gave her an idea of why Elliot’s body had been so quick to respond when she’d come onto him. Maybe their partnership was exactly what he’d claimed and nothing more. But what she’d felt, what he’d reacted to, were the undeniable sparks of attraction between them. They were like magnets, drawn inevitably toward one another.

Grinning at the thought, she went out to look for her partner.

Chapter Nine

She found him in the kitchen, leaning on the counter, with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. Her lips curved up involuntarily in an unconscious smile at the sight of him. His face mirrored hers immediately, offering her a warm smile.

It appeared to be instinct, his normal reaction to seeing her in the morning, because the smile vanished as quickly as it formed, a pained, sorrowful look taking its place as his eyes fell.

“That smells really good.” She didn’t want to bring the events back up from the night before. She’d made a terrible mistake in thinking he would hurt her and that reaction had hurt him. But they’d forgiven each other, in unspoken words, as far as she was concerned and it was over.

He looked uncertain, as though he thought it almost too good to be true that she might be willing to let it go. Setting his cup on the counter, he moved toward the stove. “The water’s still warm if you want me to make you some tea.”

She shook her head and motioned at his cup. “Some coffee sounds really good though.”

He smiled slightly. “You don’t drink coffee.”

“Then where did that come from?”

“You used to drink it.” He grinned and pointed to the side of the counter that she hadn’t noticed, where the contents of an entire cabinet had been dumped. “I knew you still had to have some in here somewhere. Not the freshest cup I’ve ever had, but…”

Laughing, she started pawing through other cabinets, looking for a mug. “I drink coffee now.” She finally found her mug and held it out to him as he spooned the powder in and chased it with water.

“Don’t tell me I didn’t try to stop you.”

She took a moment to savor the smell as the mug warmed her hands. Then she gulped it down, three large sips emptying half the mug. When she looked up, Elliot was smiling at her. “What?”

“Some things never change.” His voice was soft and wistful. He was clearly still nervous about where he stood.

“What does that mean?” She wanted to encourage him, keep him talking to her until he loosened up.

“You always did that with your coffee.”

She felt her brow furrow, remembering the lines in the mirror and realized she was making a face he probably saw all the time. “Did what with it?” As far as she knew, she was just drinking it. There was nothing out of the ordinary going on.

“You always smell it and hold it like that,” he demonstrated with his mug, cradling it in two hands and holding it to his nose. “Then you drink it straight down.” Shaking his head, he shrugged. “I wouldn’t think that the way you drink coffee would survive if you don’t even remember your name.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d know how I drink my coffee.” Despite the slightly odd feeling of someone knowing her so well when she didn’t know herself at all, it made her smile. At least someone knew her that well. And she imagined, if she did regain her memories, the idea would endear him to her a little more.

He finished his mug and set it in the sink. “I’ve been watching you inhale coffee for ten years. I know you better than anyone.”

“Even me, at the moment.”

His eyes found hers, staring intently at her for the first time that morning. “I think I always know you better than you do.” Before she could ask him what he meant, he grinned. “I see your quirks, your patterns, you know, the characteristics you don’t see. I honestly bet you never even realized you always drink your coffee the same way.”

“But you know.” She saw him nod. Then she grinned to let him know she was only kidding. “That’s kind of creepy.”

“Then I should let you know I can count on one hand the number of times in a decade that I’ve seen you like that.”

She looked down at the lilac t-shirt and faded jeans she’d chosen. The foot she’d crossed over the other started to bounce anxiously as she self-consciously pushed a piece of hair behind her ear. She didn’t think she looked particularly bad, but something was off. “Like what?”

“Relaxed. Casual. You always come to work dressed up with your hair and makeup all done and -“ He stepped right in front of her, conspicuously looking down at her with a grin. “Damn, you’re kind of short without heels.”

She slugged him in the stomach for his comment, even while she laughed. “I am not short.” But looking up at him, she had to admit she felt tiny next to his bulk. “You’re just a giant.”

His eyes found hers, the laughter dying away to a sweet, gentle look. “I like it. You look more human, approachable.”

She watched his eyes dart to her lips for a moment and she wondered if her clothing choices would have changed their relationship, if maybe he would have tried if she seemed more welcoming. But she didn’t give voice to the thoughts. She made a joke to lighten the mood and dispel the air that seemed to thicken almost imperceptibly until it was enough to choke her. “Do I look inhuman normally?” With the heat between them, she wondered how she ever managed to breathe.

“No, normally you’re super woman.”

She initially assumed it was a joke and smiled, but there was no mirth in his face. He was serious. It took her breath away to see the kind of reverence he had for her, the way he respected her.

Maybe it hadn’t been a two by four that caused her amnesia. Maybe it was lack of oxygen from not breathing in an attempt to deny the feelings between herself and her partner.

Fearing she was about to confess a love she suspected she’d long harbored in secret for the man, she looked away and quickly finished her coffee. “So what’s the plan for today?” She went to put her cup in the sink, noticing the sad, lonely way his mug looked until she set hers beside it. She wished she didn’t live alone, that he was always there in the morning to make sure her dishes had company.

“Well, in lieu of your memory coming back, I should probably get some clothes from home and change before I stink up the place.” He didn’t mention that he needed to get clothes because his wife had kicked him out and she didn’t think she should bring it up either. “Then I need to head into work for a few hours, finish some stuff up. You’re welcome to come with me.”

“Welcome?” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you mean I have to for fear I’ll burn the building down or something?” The doctor had been pretty emphatic that she not be left alone.

“I’m pretty sure you aren’t going to burn the place down, so it’s up to you. You want to stay here?”

She looked at him carefully, sizing him up, trying to read between the lines. She couldn’t swear he wasn’t trying to lose her for the day. She shrugged, hoping he was just trying to give her an option if she didn’t want to stay with him. “Wouldn’t want to make you a liar. You did promise not to take your eyes off me.”

A wry smile was spreading across his face as he led her to the door. “It’s not my eyes I’m having trouble keeping off you.”

Chapter Ten

Olivia sat at Liv’s desk, staring at the pile of papers and folders and notes and phone messages and bent paperclips, nearly bored out of her skull. She’d already had three more cups of coffee, surreptitiously poked through her drawers, contemplated the meaning behind the approximately sixty-five half eaten packs of breath mints she’d found during the search, gone through her locker, with Elliot’s help to open the lock whose combination she couldn’t remember, and made small talk with a few people. Mostly she’d stared at Elliot, because he was the most entertaining thing around, and waited for something to happen.

Elliot had pointed out a few people to her, including a couple he warned her not to dare engage because she couldn’t stand them and would never forgive him for allowing her to talk to. He’d spent the rest of the time working quietly on his computer, typing up some sort of report he’d explained was several weeks late. After a while, he’d taken the messages from her desk, sorted through them, and returned a few.

She tried not to eavesdrop on other detectives as they discussed cases, but it was too fascinating to ignore. Lake and Fin, who she determined she worked with the most besides Elliot simply because they’d been at the hospital, sat so close she couldn’t help but overhear. They were trading theories, trying to make sense of both a confusing witness statement, who they both suspected was lying about something, and a suspect’s shoddy alibi, which Fin assumed meant he was guilty while Lake preferred to think he was innocent, but covering something for the witness. Every once in a while they’d refer to the victim’s statement, which apparently Liv had taken, and quote it to prove their theory.

Olivia, who’d initially been rather disturbed to realize she listened to details of rape and child abuse day in and day out, couldn’t drag her eyes away when the two stood up, each passionately defending their own ideas while rudely dismissing the other. When Fin stepped forward, crowding the other man in an attempt to intimidate him, Olivia started to snicker. She felt like she was watching a movie, an intensely entertaining one, and wished she had popcorn.

Lake turned to her, his over-eager butt-kissing attitude from the day before apparently a thing of the past, and snarled. “What the hell are you laughing at?”

Fin actually stepped partially in front of Lake, coming between him and Olivia. “She’s laughing at your lame ass theory.”

Olivia noticed Elliot’s attention had finally turned from his computer as soon as the argument included her. “Leave Olivia out of it.” She smiled, proud that Elliot was coming to her defense.

Fin’s voice brought her attention back to the other set of partners. “Seriously, Liv, what’s got you in such a good mood?”

She felt her face color as she realized quite a few people were staring at her. Shrugging she tried to brush them off. “It’s just interesting to watch you guys fight.”

Lake began to laugh and Fin joined him a moment later.

“What?” She looked at Elliot, not getting the joke that he too was laughing about.

“They’re not fighting, Liv.”

Confused, she said nothing. If they weren’t fighting, that was the first evidence that she’d lost more than personal memories. If they weren’t arguing, she’d apparently lost command of language as well.

Fin was smiling as he pointed at her and Elliot. “We haven’t insulted each other’s heritage or said ‘fuck you’ once.”

Lake joined his partner. “We haven’t even thrown anything at each other.”

“Or had anyone threaten to lock them in a closet together until they resolve the tension.” The unfamiliar female voice caught Olivia’s attention, even as the meaning of her words made Olivia blush harder. “Seriously, Liv, you and Elliot have a corner on the market in fighting around here.”

Olivia sized the woman up, ignoring the fact that the woman was clearly insinuating something about Olivia and her partner’s relationship that Elliot had mislead her on. The woman was quite pretty, long strawberry blonde hair pinned up behind her ears. A navy blue suit with a knee-length skirt was buttoned at the waist, accenting the woman’s trim figure. Perfectly sensible pumps, exactly the kind that Liv had no interest in whatsoever, raised her a few inches and matched her suit perfectly.

As Olivia was looking at her, she stepped over and leaned against Liv’s desk, opening a drawer and snagging one of the million packs of mints. She shook one into her palm and replaced the container as if she owned the place, even though Olivia hadn’t dared take one herself. “You’ll be happy to know that Milton Stevens will be spending the next twenty-five to thirty in a cell.”

Olivia smiled, wondering both who Milton Stevens was and why she should be so happy to see him locked up. “Oh.”

The woman frowned at Olivia’s less than eager response and checked with Elliot as though Olivia had suddenly gone deaf. “Your partner certainly has a bug up her butt.”

Elliot glared at her. “Don’t even think I’m speaking to you after what you just said.”

“So you’re the only one allowed to talk about her butt?” The woman’s voice was muffled behind a giggle. Fin and Lake seemed to think it was thoroughly amusing too.

Mortified and unsure she even really knew what was going on, Olivia tried to sink down in her chair.

Cragen, at least, shared her unhappiness with the conversation, as he had emerged from his office in time to catch the redhead’s last remark. “As much fun as I’m sure it is to discuss everyone’s backsides, I’m going to have to butt in myself and ask that you all find something resembling work and start doing it. Elliot, I need to see you in my office. Casey, if you don’t have anything to do, go find somewhere else to be because my detectives are busy.”

Olivia watched with a smile as all the people who’d been laughing at her immediately settled down and started working.

Elliot stood up and nodded at Cragen to indicate that he was on his way. “Liv, this is Casey, our ADA.”

Olivia looked at Casey, who seemed amused to discover that Olivia didn’t know her name. Taking a page from her playbook, Olivia pretended Casey wasn’t there. “Do I like her?”

“Sometimes.” Elliot shrugged. “Especially when she drops by to tell you that Milton Stevens will be in prison until long after he’ll need to take a little blue pill to rape his granddaughter.” Then he headed for Cragen’s office.

Olivia didn’t get the little blue pill part, but the rest she understood perfectly. “Ew, gross.”

Casey moved from the edge of Liv’s desk and sat down in Elliot’s chair. “So it’s true.”

Olivia glared at the woman for stealing Elliot’s seat. “Aren’t you supposed to be finding somewhere else to be?”

Casey waved her hand dismissively. “He’s not my boss. Besides, technically, I need to know how useful you’ll be on the stand next week for the Ellison trial.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Because Olivia had no idea what the Ellison trial was nor what she had to do with it.

“So it’s true.”

“Didn’t you just say that?”

Casey smiled. “If I wasn’t going to have to beg Judge Greenburg for a continuance in light of the fact that the arresting officer doesn’t know what happened, this would be quite amusing.”

“I fail to see the humor myself.” Unconcerned with appearing rude, she looked past Casey to stare at Elliot’s outline in Cragen’s office. He was sitting in a chair, looking to be deeply involved in a discussion. She tried to will him to come back since he was the only person in Liv’s life that Olivia particularly wanted anything to do with.

“What’s it like?”

Olivia’s eyes darted back to Casey, who was doing something with Elliot’s computer. “Are you supposed to be doing that?”

“I’m just checking my mail.”

“On Elliot’s computer?”

Casey’s expression was alarmed when she turned to face Olivia. “You don’t remember a damn thing, do you?”

“What does that have to do with Elliot’s computer?”

“It must be fascinating. To be able to see everyone you know in an entirely new light, I mean.” Casey was staring and it bothered Olivia.

She looked down to discover herself twisting a paperclip unconsciously. Disgusted that her nervous quirks were intact, she threw the paperclip next to the others and folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t have anything to compare them to so it’s really not that interesting. It’s actually kind of nerve-wracking because I don’t want to upset anyone that Liv is friends with, even though I might not really like them.”

“Like me?” Casey was smiling, but only until Olivia didn’t say anything. “It’ll be neat when you get your memory back, though, right? To remember meeting people for the first time twice?”

Olivia shrugged. “I guess. I’d like to know if my perceptions change hers.”

“You’re talking about yourself in the third person.”

“I don’t fee like the same person.”

Casey shrugged. “Just thought I’d warn you because usually only crazy people do that.”

Olivia started to smile at the woman. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“I was wondering what you were doing here.” Smiling harder, she sat back in her chair and decided she enjoyed the woman’s candor. “So, what’s ‘our ADA’ mean?”

“I prosecute the bastards you arrest and send them to prison.” Casey’s words were quick and to the point. She didn’t mince words and there was something about the abundantly feminine way she looked that told Olivia she was really a hard ass.

“Ok, so maybe my taste in friends isn’t as bad as I thought.” Olivia’s eyes darted unconsciously past Casey again, locking on Elliot’s back.

Casey grinned, following her friend’s stare. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Between you and me, neither is your taste in men.”

Olivia felt her cheeks burning again, realizing that her attraction to her married partner was pretty widely known. But understanding that might mean someone besides Elliot could explain their relationship, she looked Casey in the eye. “He said we’re friends.”

Casey nodded. “Yeah, ok.”

Olivia narrowed her eyes. “Is that true?”

A noncommittal shrug was all she got in response as a teenaged couple interrupted them. “Hi, Liv. Is dad here?”

Olivia looked at the pair. The girl who’d spoken didn’t look even vaguely familiar, but the boy who stood beside her did. Although he was scrawny and his narrow shoulders revealed that he was a little on the slow side to hit puberty, his dark hair and intense eyes were painfully familiar. “Dad would be Elliot?” She watched them glance at one another before the boy nodded. She looked at Elliot who was just leaving Cragen’s office. “Fuck, Elliot, how many kids do you have?”

Casey, Fin, and Lake all started to laugh. The kids made faces at each other. Elliot tried to glare at all of them, Olivia, the kids, and his coworkers, simultaneously.

“All right, as fun as this is going to be, I better get out of here before Cragen realizes I completely ignored him.” Casey patted Elliot on the shoulder and pointed at Olivia. “Good luck with that one. She’s a trouble maker.”

Olivia narrowed her eyes at Casey and spoke up before the woman’s retreating figure made it out of earshot. “Casey thinks you’re hot.”

Two squeals answered her, from the girl and Casey, while the pretty much the rest of the room laughed. Elliot, however, stared at her, his cheeks turning various shades of red, and did not look happy. In fact, she was pretty sure he’d have killed her had there not been a room full of cops to witness it.

She grinned innocently in return. “I just call it like I see it.”

Casey, mortified or not, walked back to face Elliot. Olivia was happy to see that her assessment of the other woman had been accurate. “I told you she was a trouble maker.” Casey’s eyes darted to Olivia’s, an almost evil glee in them. Olivia’s heart stopped as she realized that Casey could do the same thing she had, inform a room full of coworkers that Olivia too was hot for Elliot. But Casey only let Olivia know she could, saying nothing of the sort to Elliot. “On that note, I’ll see everyone later.”

Elliot sat down in his chair, ignoring Olivia for the moment. “What’s up, guys?”

“We need money. Mom said to get it from you.” The boy looked bored, like his father should have known there was only one reason he’d dare be seen talking to him in public.

Sighing heavily, Elliot produced his wallet and handed them a credit card. “Should I bother to ask what it’s for?”

The boy shook his head. “Do you really want to know?”

Elliot grinned. “Probably not.”

The girl stepped closer to him, throwing her arm around his shoulders in an obvious display of affection. “Daddy?”

Elliot didn’t fall for her antics. “What, Elizabeth?”

“We need a car too.” The girl withdrew her arm, either embarrassed or irritated that her plan hadn’t worked.

Olivia grinned as Elliot worked one of the keys off his ring. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Elliot rolled his eyes at her. “Liv, these are the twins, Lizzie and Dickie.”

“Rick, Dad. It’s Rick.”

“I’ve been calling you Dickie since before you could talk.”

“And it’s Liz, Dad.” She sighed, in an accidentally exact copy of Elliot’s earlier action. “We’re not babies anymore.”

Dickie and or Rick spoke up again. “And we just saw Olivia at EJ’s christening a month ago. I think she remembers us.”

“Not necessarily.” Elliot opened his mouth to explain further, but Olivia cut him off.

“Who’s EJ?”

Lizzie answered her, in that obnoxious tone that only a teenager could muster up. “Dad, if she can’t keep track of the names of your kids after ten years, do you really think it was a good idea to make her EJ’s godmother?”

Elliot glared at his daughter. “Your mother and I are fighting, but that doesn’t give you the right to talk to me or Olivia like that.” He motioned at Olivia, who’d ducked down at the mention of the soon-to-end marriage. “She’s got amnesia and she doesn’t even remember her own name.”

With the full attention of the kids, Olivia looked up and smiled. “Hi, Rick and Liz or Dickie and Lizzie or whoever you are this week.”

Elliot grinned when the kids faces tinged red. “I seem to remember a period a few years back when Lizzie was spelled with two y’s.”

“Dad!” The girl buried her face in her hands, mumbling that he was embarrassing her.

“That’s what dads are for.”

Olivia laughed. “And credit cards.”

Dickie snagged the car key from the corner of Elliot’s desk. “And cars. Thanks, Dad. Later.”

Lizzie waved as she followed her brother. “It was nice re-meeting you, Liv.”

As soon as they were gone from sight, Olivia looked at Elliot and admired the warm smile he had staring after his kids. “Those were the little ones from the picture?”

“They got their licenses a few weeks ago.”

“So, I have a godson?”

Elliot nodded, adding a sly wink. “We might have forgotten to tell the priest you’re not Catholic.”

“Considering that I don’t know who the priest is, I’m not about to tell him.”

He turned one of the pictures around on his desk. “Here.”

She took the frame from him, seeing a large group of people surrounding herself and a man she didn’t recognize. The two of them were holding a baby between them. She spotted Elliot a few feet behind her. “Who’s that?” She pointed at the man, fearing for a moment that he was her boyfriend.

“That’s my brother-in-law, Joe.” His finger moved over others in the picture. “Elliot, Jr, of course, Kathy, my wife, Maureen, Kathleen, Dickie.”

“Don’t you mean Rick?”

He chuckled. “Lizzie, with two y’s.” She giggled and listened intently, trying to memorize the list of names he rattled off. “Don’t worry, you don’t know most of these people and will probably never see them again.”

“Oh, good.” She looked over the group of people, knowing she could probably label a third of them if her life depended on it. Elliot fixed the frame and turned back to work, but Olivia didn’t want to let him ignore her again. “I’m guessing this is my mom.” She pointed at the framed photo on her desk and watched Elliot nod. “I’ve seen a couple pictures of her, but there are none of my dad. Where’s he?”

Elliot’s face paled and Olivia noticed that her question had been overheard by Fin, who was staring with his mouth open.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Her eyes moved between the two men, noting that Lake seemed just as confused by their silence as she did.

Clearing his throat, Elliot looked away. “Your mother raised you. Your father wasn’t in the picture.”

“Oh, ok.” It didn’t seem that bad, not bad enough to merit the response. “Should I call her? Does she know I got hurt?”

Again, Elliot’s face looked like he would have rather been anywhere else. “She passed away a few years back, Liv.”

Olivia nodded, feeling a hurt she hadn’t expected. She didn’t have a father. Her mother was gone. If she’d had a boyfriend or children, Elliot would have mentioned them. And she hadn’t seen any other pictures. She lowered her voice so no one would overhear. “Do I have any siblings?”

Elliot shook his head, but then stopped suddenly. “Well, you have a half-brother, but you didn’t grow up with him. You actually just met him a little over a year ago.”

She couldn’t look at him. He had a family. He had a bunch of kids, a wife, for the time being at least, and all sorts of relatives he’d just shown her. She had no one. Her voice was choked with emotion, but she managed to keep her tears at bay. “So it’s just me.” She felt very small and lonely.

But Elliot’s foot tapped against hers and his smile warmed her. “You’ve got one hell of a partner.” He nodded at the picture he’d shown her. “And a godson too.”

Before she could answer, Cragen reappeared between the desks of the four detectives. “Uniforms just found Marks. He’s on his way up.” He reached over and grabbed several of the files on Elliot’s desk and tossed them on Lake’s. He held up his hand to stop Elliot’s objection. “Fin and Chester will handle this, Elliot.”

Olivia watched as Elliot nodded curtly, the fire in his eyes telling her that he wasn’t about to let it go. She had no idea what was going on and she was about to ask, as soon as the older man left.

But as soon as he did, two uniformed officers entered the room, dragging an unhappy, uncooperative, cuffed man with them. Fin and Lake stood up to replace the officers. Everyone was paying attention to the exchange and therefore, Olivia was the only one to notice that Elliot had stood too.

“You son of a bitch!” Elliot sprang forth, his fist making contact with the prisoner’s jaw. A loud crack sounded and the room descended into a flurry of activity.