Convergence

Jezyk

Spoilers: I'll say anything through Pursuit, but yeah, not really. Fault though. Why are there always spoilers for Fault in my fics?

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Olivia didn't drive the cruiser often. Usually Elliot took the keys and it didn't bother her one bit. Traffic in New York was hell on a good day, although, as Olivia tried to maneuver the giant sedan through the bumper-to-bumper streets, she realized there really was no such thing as a good traffic day. But that particular day Elliot had been on the phone and trying to write something down, so she'd taken the keys from him and slid behind the wheel.

Unlike the colorful curses that Elliot liberally sprinkled around the city while he was driving, Olivia kept her thoughts regarding the other drivers and their parentage quiet. She figured Elliot, who appeared very much to be on a rather serious personal call, would appreciate her keeping her thoughts to herself.

She wished that she had the occasion to put on the lights and siren, giving her the opportunity to squeeze her way through what space she could find, but they were only going to talk to the boyfriend of a victim to get more information. Still, she was tempted, but she bit her lip and waited her turn instead.

In retrospect, the very fact that the afternoon seemed so mundane should have set off the alarm bells in her head. But at the time, it just seemed like a normal day. They arrived at the building, Elliot double checking the address as Olivia parked the car.

He winced in the bright sun, having left his sunglasses on his desk at the precinct. "Sixth floor walk-up."

Olivia shook her head. "Must be our lucky day."

Halfway up the steps, with her feet groaning in protests at the heels she was wearing, she leaned back against the wall. "I think I'm getting too old for this."

He smiled and elbowed her to start moving again. "At least you can skip the gym tonight, right?"

Elliot reached the door at the top of the steps a moment sooner, pulling it open and stepping through, then holding it open behind him for Olivia. He was distracted, waiting for her, and so it was only when they were side-by-side that they realized what was in front of them.

An angry man was cursing at his girlfriend, the terrified woman shrinking back against the wall, seemingly far more afraid than simply angry words would explain. Finally, though, the man revealed why she was so scared. He raised his hand, the left one that had been hidden behind his body, a gun in his hand.

He pointed it right at her head as she squealed in fear. "You shut up or I'm going to shut you up, bitch!"

Without needing to check if she was on the same page, Elliot drew his gun. "Police, freeze."

Olivia had her gun steadied with one hand and kept the other on her radio, ready to call it in.

"Shit!" The man glanced toward the interlopers, then turned back on his girlfriend as though she'd been responsible, bringing the gun down hard against her face despite the witnesses. And then, in keeping with the kind of luck she knew to expect, the bastard took off running.

Watching as Elliot shouted again and then took off running after the man, Olivia wished, not for the first time, that they were allowed to shoot sooner. Fuck waiting until they were fired on or someone else was in danger. They'd already announced themselves; it seemed like that ought to be enough of a warning.

Olivia called in the foot pursuit, barely pausing to check on the woman who was sobbing. She'd be fine, Olivia promised her, someone would be back to check on her. And then she took off running too, following the sounds of the chase that had already disappeared down the fire escape.

She was used to running in heels; however, the rickety fire escape had been more of challenge. By the time she'd reached the ground, she had already made a solemn promise to the cosmos she was never wearing them to work again. With her feet solidly on the ground, she gave chase, listening as she ran, waiting for the periodic clues Elliot would breathlessly call through the radio. She cursed herself for letting them go so far ahead of her that she couldn't get a visual on her partner.

It was difficult to cover her partner's back when she couldn't fucking see it.

And then she heard the sound she dreaded more than anything in the world. A gunshot. Loud and clear and echoing off all the buildings around her until it sounded like it was coming from every direction at once. Her heart seemed to stop beating in that second, until she heard his voice again.

More harried, more frightened. "Ten-thirteen, shots fired." And she could hear what he wasn't saying in those clipped words – where the hell is my partner.

Fear and guilt pumped adrenaline through her veins, propelling her faster than she'd thought possible.

It sounded again, another gunshot. Immediately followed by two more.

But no radio call, indicating that Elliot was ok, that he needed back up. Silence filled her ears. And still, she listened.

Unable to bear the pain of not knowing, and truly not caring who would hear the panic in her voice, she shouted into her radio. "Elliot!"

And still, no answer.

Tears pricked her eyes as she ran, desperate for the call through the radio that the perp was down, but it didn't come. She'd had the nightmare so many times that her terrified sprint seemed familiar. The only thing that she could think of was how she would find him. Would he be alive, gasping for breath, surviving long enough for her to get there and make empty promises about how he'd be fine? Would he already be dead when she got there, a lifeless corpse showing no hint of the spark that had always burned in his eyes? Would he be riddled with multiple bullets, his blood smeared all over the street?

Her heart was in her throat as she rounded the corner, the last hint of a location from him before he'd called in the 10-13. She was already panicking as she surveyed the scene, her heart beating so loudly she was sure everyone in a ten block radius could hear it. If he was dead, it would kill her as well. She had no question about that. Her palms were so sweaty she could barely keep her radio in her hand.

And then she saw him.

There he was, kneeling on the ground, his hands folded and applying pressure to the wound in the perp's shoulder. The perp's hands were cuffed and he was screaming about the pain.

It was an automatic response to lift her radio and call in the conclusion of the chase and request a bus.

Then she approached Elliot, her legs still shaky, and slugged him in the shoulder.

He looked up, baffled as to her response. "What the-"

Trying and failing to hold back tears of relief at seeing him alive and well, she walked away. She had to. She wanted to hit him again, harder, pound the crap out of him for scaring her like that. Son of a bitch must have taken ten years off her life.

There was always a lot to be done when an officer fired their gun. Elliot had to explain what had happened to at least five different people, including Captain Cragen and IAB. Olivia had to give her statement as well. The original victim had to be found and questioned as well. All in all, it seemed like days had gone by when Elliot finally approached her.

She was leaning against the wall at the entrance to the alley, having watched the arrival and eventual departure of everyone else. The two of them were all that remained and when she saw the expression on his face, she honestly wished she'd left him there and taken the cruiser back alone.

He was itching for a fight; it was obvious in the way he carried himself, all tensed muscles and anger dripping from his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. He was practically stalking her as he walked, reminding her very much of a lion about to pounce on its prey.

She was too tired to defend herself.

And she was too tired to run away.

So she stood there, resigned to defeat, only hoping his attack would be quick and merciless and burn out fast.

Finally he was within a few feet of her and he stopped walking, caging her with his furious stare as effectively as if he'd pinned her to the wall. "Would you like to explain to me exactly what the fuck that was about?" His voice was harsh, forced into a whisper and somehow more intimidating than a shout.

Fuck, she thought as she let out a sigh, he wasn't going to let her off easy. He wanted to play with her. He'd seen her panic, her fear, her tears.

The tears sprung up again, as her mind flashed to those moments when she'd been certain she was about to find her partner dead. And then the rage raced back in, crushing the fear and hurt, giving her the energy she'd lacked, lashing out at him. It was all she could do not to crack him one across the face. She snarled back. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You called in a damn ten-thirteen and then you didn't answer your radio!"

He stared at her for a long moment, sizing her up, deciding if there was more to her upset or not. Finally he reached for his pocket, pulling his radio free. He gave it a shake, letting her hear the telltale rattle of broken parts inside. "Son of a bitch opened fire as soon as he realized it was a dead end. I dropped it when I dove for cover."

Olivia noticed his clothes for the first time then, the streaks of grease and dirt on his sleeves, the tear on one of his knees. The idea that he'd broken his radio had never occurred to her; she'd been too busy panicking for rational explanations to cross her mind. She didn't know what to say in response. Instead she clenched her jaw to keep herself from crying again.

Elliot looked at her. Just looked at her. Almost like he was reading her mind.

She didn't like it one bit. Not when her mind was consumed with the idea that had just hit her. She was in love with the man. So fucking in love with him that she couldn't fathom living a single moment of her life without him.

Finally, a soft smile touched his lips, disappearing almost before she'd even seen it. "It's ok, Liv." He held her eyes as he spoke. "I know exactly how you feel."

With a dry laugh, she shook her head. "No, no you don't." She wanted nothing more than to be away from the man, at least until she could wrap her brain around the concept that she'd been in love with Elliot so long she wasn't sure she ever hadn't been.

"I do." His eyes held hers, refusing to give her even the semblance of privacy that averting his gaze would allow. "I saw someone cut your throat. I saw you fall."

She smiled and nodded, realizing he thought she'd simply been afraid of him getting hurt, taking the out his words offered. "Yeah, I guess you do." Stepping to the side, she turned and started toward the street. Her legs were still shaking.

But Elliot didn't move. "It hit me just as hard when I realized it."

He paused, and she could feel his eyes on her, willing her to look at him. She refused. Whatever he was talking about, it wasn't what she was thinking. She couldn't take the time to figure out what he was saying. She had to protect herself. She had to get away from him.

"I was sitting in that hallway, waiting to hear how Rebecca was doing, and trying to figure out why the hell I was so fucking angry at you for getting hurt."

Her heart fluttered in her chest at the mention of that night, the one night in all their nights together she'd honestly expected would end up with them sharing a bed. It had broken her heart though, the way he'd used their feelings to throw up a wall between them, doubly so when she'd initially thought he was extending an invitation for them to explore those feelings. It was that thought, the memory of how very crushed she'd been when he'd absolutely refused to consider it, which finally brought the tears back. She didn't understand how he could have acted like he had, hating her for being his weakness, she simply shook her head at the idea, trying to tell herself that it was only after several hours that he'd found the strength to do so. Maybe if she had a few hours to pull herself together she could figure it all out.

If he did understand, if he had realized he was in love with her, he'd pushed her away. She could do the same. She was certainly as strong as he was. She'd survived his rejection after all.

He kept talking, his voice calm and even as though he expected her to lose control at any moment. "I realized I couldn't do this without you." He stepped toward her.

Proud of herself for not revealing anything as soon as she realized he really was talking about her being injured, she sighed. She didn't want to keep talking about it. She didn't want him to keep talking about it. It hurt bad enough; there was no need to twist the knife.

She held onto the irritation, the hurt, knowing it made her sound angry. "Damn it, Elliot, I wasn't afraid you got hurt. Just leave me alone." She tried walking again, making it several feet away before his words stopped her in her tracks.

"It doesn't matter how far you go or how fast you run, Olivia; you're going to come back." He took a step toward her, hesitating, waiting to see how his words would be received, but he continued without the benefit of getting a response. "You're going to come back to me, so you may as well not go."

The fact that he said it, that it put it out there between them, that he'd breathed life into the words made her turn. She stared at him, blinking through her tears, biting her bottom lip, shaking her head as if such an action might clear up the possibility that she'd misheard him.

But all she could force out was a whisper. "No."

She was wrong. He couldn't have said what she'd heard. Because that would mean he'd been with her, in love with her, hoping that someday she would realize she was in love with him too for all those years.

He'd never looked so vulnerable as he did at that moment, love and fear and hope and desperation shining through his blue eyes. "I loved Kathy, I did. I still do, but I swear to god never like I love you, Liv."

His words wrenched a sob from her throat. She thought back to when she'd been running after him, wondering if she would ever get to hear his voice again. "I didn't know I could be that scared." That was why she'd wanted to slug him, why she'd been so damn pissed off. He'd scared her. The idea of him being hurt scared her.

He nodded, his furrowed brow revealing that he did know. He had understood, as he'd said, exactly how she felt. Holding out his hand, he took another step toward her. "Come here."

And she did, rushing toward him and squeezing him close as his arms folded around her. It didn't matter that he'd already said it. It didn't matter that he'd had to pull it out of her. All that mattered was that it was true and that she said it too.

She turned her face into his. "I love you, Elliot."

His arms tightened, pulling her harder against him, reassuring her that things were going to be different, better, from there on out.