Part Three

Exhaustion had taken a firm hold of Olivia somewhere during the short drive. She leaned on the wall just to the left of the stretcher Elliot was sitting on. He was sitting up and responding politely and calmly, trying to convince the hospital staff that he was fine. Olivia herself had only taken one punch, so while her cheek was throbbing, she wasn't nearly injured enough to need to convince anyone of anything, and therefore was leaning on the wall, hoping her legs would hold her up for a while longer.

Her damage was on the inside and she determined the sooner she got home and thus was able to pretend it hadn't happened, the better off she'd be. But, she couldn't leave her partner's side, not when he'd been beaten up, not while he was being checked over in the emergency room, not even with him being pissy. He was her partner after all.

She watched through half-closed eyes while the doctor examined Elliot, listening to the routine questions and irritated, yet compliant answers. Elliot quietly rattled off the date, the next holiday, the city, his address, even the more personal questions Olivia knew he'd prefer not to discuss, like that he was divorced and lived alone. She let her eyes slip closed completely while he was poked and prodded, taking heart in the diagnosis that Elliot was beat up and bruised, but more or less fine. Nothing broken, nothing that wouldn't heal. Just a concussion.

With a contented nod, the doctor apologized for having to keep Elliot overnight, except that Elliot had already revealed that there would be no one at his place to keep an eye on him. Elliot's good humor failed at that statement, groaning and trying to talk the doctor out of it. The doctor shook his head and remained steadfast, explaining that hospital policy was hospital policy.

Between the guilt she felt at the thought of Elliot having to spend the night in the hospital and the idea that she might fall asleep while waiting to see which of the men would win the argument, Olivia had to speak up. "He can stay with me."

Elliot's head snapped toward her and she could already hear the obnoxious way he'd insist that he'd rather stay in the hospital, but she didn't care. She suspected that having Elliot around would kill two birds with one stone – he wouldn't have to be hospitalized and she wouldn't have to be alone.

The doctor didn't bother to check if the plan was ok with Elliot. He simply nodded and promised he'd rush the paperwork for them to leave. As eager as she was to leave, she was sorry to see the doctor go. She'd already agreed to deal with Elliot, but she wasn't in any hurry for him to turn his anger on her as she knew he would. He always did. And she wasn't in the mood for it.

Elliot spoke, less than a second after the doctor left the room. "You don't have to do this. I can stay here."

Certain she'd misheard his soft voice, she forced her eyes to open. "What?"

He didn't look at her, staring instead at his lap. "I wasn't fishing for an invitation."

"I just want to get home before I fall asleep at the wheel. Offering my couch seemed like the fastest way out of here." She didn't know where the anger had gone and she wasn't sure it was going to stay there, so she didn't want to open up. If she was alone, she was guaranteed to have nightmares, to relive mixed up memories of Harris and Lewis, to feel ghosts of hands on her body. She knew she'd feel safe with Elliot there, even if he turned back into a jerk.

He shrugged, as though he didn't believe her honest answer for one second. "I can drive if you want."

She couldn't stop the laugh that spilled forth. "You're kidding, right? You have a head injury. You're not driving."

A little under a half hour later, Olivia pushed open the door to her apartment. Elliot silently slipped in behind her and sat down on the couch. He hadn't said another word since the hospital, but Olivia didn't press. She figured his bad mood was back and if he wanted to spend the night sulking, she wasn't about to interfere. She had bigger problems.

Like the fact that the urge to sleep was gone, leaving her wide awake and nervous.

Like the fact that her skin was crawling.

Every time she tried to tell herself that Lewis was locked up and that he hadn't gotten as far as he'd wanted, her mind readily called up the feeling of his hands on her body, her chest, and she had to force herself not to heave. Elliot could be a fucker when he was mad and she didn't want to expose the vulnerability she felt in front of him.

She didn't want to look at him, not since halfway home, when doing so suddenly threw her back into the horrible moments when she was being felt up by Lewis, holding Elliot's stare like a lifeline.

Unsure how much longer she would make it before she started to freak out regardless of the audience, Olivia nodded toward the hallway even though Elliot wasn't looking at her. "I'm going to take a shower. Make yourself at home."

He didn't respond; she didn't expect that he would. She took her time in the shower, turning the faucet to the hottest setting she could stand and scrubbing her skin mercilessly. Each time she soaped herself up and rinsed off, she thought she'd be ok, but every time she reached for the controls, she felt filthy and couldn't stop herself from washing off again.

She used up half her body wash before she gave up, mostly because her skin was raw from the scrubbing and not actually feeling clean. Rather than her regular shorts and shirt, she dug through her drawers for thick sweats, desperate for whatever added security she could find. Figuring Elliot was asleep already, she decided to check on him once before she tried to sleep, knowing that it wasn't going to happen no matter how hard she tried.

Surprisingly, Elliot was sitting on her sofa in the exact same position as when she'd left. She didn't have anything to say, but the despondence he'd been displaying was bothering her. Drawing her feet up under her, she settled into the cushions beside him. "I thought you'd be asleep."

"I'm not." He didn't look at her, and although she was trying not to look at him, she was still hurt by the way he stared in the other direction.

"We should probably get something to eat, you know? We never got dinner." Food was the absolute last thing on her mind. She simply needed something to say and food always seemed like a safe topic.

"Not hungry."

"Yeah, me either." Stifling her sigh, she stopped trying. Olivia had never been any good at drawing a sullen Elliot out. Besides, she figured, it was his turn.

Unfortunately, Elliot either didn't notice or didn't care that it was his turn. A few moments of quiet turned into a long, uncomfortable silence that allowed her mind to remember Lewis and Harris. Her skin, which had never stopped crawling, felt as filthy as ever. Unwilling to cry in front of the man that hadn't bothered to inquire if she was ok, she cleared her throat.

"I'm going to take another shower." Her words pulled a reaction from him, his head turning slightly toward her, but his eyes remained locked away. She was irritated, knowing he wasn't hurt bad enough to merit being such an ass to her. "My skin is crawling, so-" She leaned forward, unfolding her legs toward the floor.

And then he did look at her, his face lost and confused and scared and hurt. His hand moved to her cheek, his fingers lightly stroking her. "Don't."

The openness on his face threw her; she'd never seen her partner unsure. She chewed on her lip, telling herself not to lean into his hand, reminding herself that, after the night she'd had, a man's touch shouldn't bring her comfort. "I know it's not going to help." But really, hiding from Elliot suddenly seemed like a brilliant plan.

His eyes, his face, fell, leaving him staring at the couch, his hand retreating to his lap. And then he spoke again, his voice soft and choked with emotion. "I'm sorry, Liv."

For a moment, she didn't have any idea what had caused his unexpected apology. She had no clue what he was talking about. She watched as he moved his hands to his face, dropping his elbows to his knees to support him. He was sorry for touching her, she realized, he thought he'd made her uncomfortable. She reached out, the unfamiliarity of touching him making her shake as she put her hand on his back.

"Don't apologize, it's not you." She knew he wasn't listening, or at least, he wasn't going to believe her. "It was that prick Lewis, Elliot."

He shook his head. "I'm so, so sorry." Speaking seemed to take the rest of his energy, leaving him to drop his face further, his hands curling around the back of his head. His shoulders began to shake with the force of his sobs.

Seeing her partner double over in tears brought her own tears out as well. "Elliot, what are you-"

He looked up, shaking his head to stop her from asking. His eyes were full of tears, streaks making their way down his face. "You told me to stop." He paused long enough to take a breath as his body continued to shake. "It's my fault that bastard touched you, it's my fault he hurt you." He looked down again, shaking his head at himself. "You were assaulted because I didn't listen to you and I'll never forgive myself for that."

"Stop, Elliot, stop!" She could barely talk through her own tears, hell, she could barely breathe through the pain she felt that mirrored his. "No, it wasn't your fault." The pieces began to click, the anger, the way he'd tried to avoid her, the silence. He thought he'd brought it on her and she hated that he felt so guilty.

"No, Liv, you said to let it go and if I had, he never would have touched you."

She grabbed one of his hands, squeezing it between both of hers, trying to draw his eyes back to her. "Elliot, that bastard was ready to kill both of us over a fucking parking space. There's not a damn thing you could have done to anticipate that."

He shook his head, refusing to look at her. "I could have moved the damn car. What difference would it have made to me?"

"Elliot, look at me." When he didn't, she grabbed his chin, pulling his face level with hers. "Those fuckers are in prison where they belong and we helped put them there. With all the possible things that could have gone down tonight, I think we're pretty fucking lucky."

He said nothing, staring back at her for a long moment before ducking down to hide his face.

All of her energy abandoned her, leaving her as exhausted as she'd been at the hospital. "I give up. I'm going to bed." She stood up, hating that she was turning her back on her partner when he was so upset, but knowing there was nothing she could say to get through to him, not when he was so clearly determined to wallow in self-pity.

His hand closed around hers before she could take a step. He yanked, pulling her back onto the couch. A split second later, she was wrapped in his arms, his muscles squeezing her so hard it hurt. But she didn't care, not a bit, and returned the embrace, curling her arms around his back.

His face turned toward her, his breath spilling over her ear as he spoke, his voice giving away the fresh wave of tears she couldn't see. "I love you."

She was thankful just then that she was in his arms, allowing her the relative privacy to stare, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, in shock at his words. She didn't know what to say, how to respond. She couldn't quite believe what she'd heard.

He moved one of his hands up, sliding his fingers through her hair, still keeping her tight in his arms. "I just want you to know that in case we're not so lucky next time."

His words overwhelmed her. All she could do was hold him, unable to make sense of her own thoughts. It felt like forever before she realized she needed to say something, before she understood that he had to feel incredibly exposed having said something so personal and not hearing anything in return.

"I love you too, El." With a smile on her face, she turned toward him. "But my back is killing me right now." She expected that her admission and her complaint would combine to give him the courage to release her, to be able to look her in the eye again.

But rather than letting her go, he moved his arms, dropping them lower around her hips and pulling her body into his lap. Then he tightened his arms back around her and settled back against the couch.

She was so comfortable, so secure, so safe, that the phantom touches on her skin were erased from her mind, leaving her a peace of mind she'd never felt before. It wasn't long before her eyes slipped closed, his warmth lulling her to sleep.

She didn't know how long it took him to notice, but eventually she felt him shaking her gently. He was trying to pull her from the happy, protected place she was in and she didn't want to hear of it. "Tired."

"I know, you should go to bed." His arms were finally slack around her and when he placed a kiss on her cheek, she realized that was her cue.

As soon as she stood, she felt cold, immediately missing the soothing presence of his arms. With out his embrace, she feared the memories would be back and she didn't want to face the thought. Reaching out, she grabbed his hand. "Come on. You need sleep too."

She could see the question in his eyes, but he didn't give it voice. Instead, he followed her as she led the way to her room. He crawled in the bed beside her, pulling the covers up over her shoulders. More content than she had any right to be, she snuggled against him, sliding an arm across his waist and throwing one leg over his.

Peeking up at him one last time before closing her eyes, she smiled. "Remind me in the morning that I want to kiss you."

He smiled back, the same happiness and relief she felt reflected in his eyes. "I'll hold you to that."