Chapter Two. Enjoy!

Don't go.

The words are internal.

She wants him to stay with her, she needs him to.

She wouldn't be able to survive if he doesn't.

He's the only one who is capable of picking up her broken pieces and gluing them back together, and she hopes he knows this.

He does. She knows he does.

If he didn't know how to fix her, she wouldn't be finishing the final bite of this hashbrown.

She swallows.

"Happy?" she asks.

He smiles warmly.

"I am. How about you make me even happier and go get some sleep?" he offers, throwing away the trash for her.

She glances to the room behind her.

It isn't inviting.

It's lonely.

It's dark.

She looks back to him, a pleading look in her eyes. Don't go.

Her voice is hushed. "And what will you do?"

She knows his answer.

He will leave. He will go home. This isn't home.

"Well, I should-"

"Stay," she interjects. "You should stay." It's a desperate plea. She doesn't want to be alone. Not now.

Not anymore.

He sees. He sees the vulnerability, the desperateness.

"Okay," he whispers, reaching over to softly stroke her hair. "I'll stay. Go get some rest."

She looks down to the counter as she nods.

Then she leaves him in the kitchen to go to her room.

She enters the doorway, but turns back to him.

"El," her voice cracks.

He doesn't say anything, but he understands by the way she spoke his name.

His hand grasps hers before following her over to her bed.

She flicks the lamp on beside her bed as Elliot pulls the covers down for her to slip into.

"Lie down, Liv."

She obliges and allows him to cover her with blankets.

She's not weak, she reminds herself.

She's not.

She's simply accepting his willingness to help her in a moment of... weakness.

She's not weak. Her brows furrow as she attempts to convince herself that.

Elliot has the capability of reading her like an open book.

He watches her carefully as she is deep in thought.

As he flicks her lamp off, he softly tells her, "It's okay not to be okay, you know."

She's quiet for a moment.

All she wants is to believe him.

"It is?" she asks softly.

She feels the bed dip as he carefully sits down.

"Of course it is. It's okay to need others to depend on. And it's okay for others to depend on you. You just can't lose yourself in the process of either."

Did she lose herself?

She tenses.

"But I know you, Olivia. Let me help you find yourself again."

In the dark, his hand gently caresses the side of her face.

She turns her head and relaxes into his touch.

Her lips brush against his palm.

"Okay."

His hand begins to softly stroke her hair.

The tender gesture soothes her.

"Go to sleep, Liv," he whispers in the quiet air.

He continues the placid strokes through her hair until he believes she has fallen asleep.

His movements slow.

Careful not to wake her, he stands up, barely rustling the covers.

"El," she mumbles.

He waits.

"Don't go," she protests tiredly.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right out there."

"Could you..."

"What do you need, Liv?" he asks.

"Could you...Do you want to...lie down in here?"

He doesn't respond right away.

"You want me to?" is all he manages. It's not smug, just reassurance.

"Mmm." He hears her shift in bed to create space for him.

He hesitates. But he accepts her offer and joins her.

Neither of them say anything.

They lie there in silence.

The sun should be rising soon, but her blinds and curtains block out any trespassing light.

Elliot stares at the ceiling.

Olivia stares at the back of her eyelids.

She still sees the memories that haunt her.

They terrorize her.

She can't forget.

She remembers the smell. Blood, alcohol, sweat.

It's vivid. It's seeping into her nose. It's here.

She feels the metal.

The metal gun tracing her cheekbone.

It's being forced into her mouth. Her tongue traces the muzzle, and she chokes...

She flinches, and her eyes shoot open.

It's dark.

It's her bedroom.

"El," she breathes. She reaches her hand out and finds his shoulder, gripping it.

"Liv, what's wrong?" He turns to his side and searches for her eyes in the shadows.

Her lips quiver.

She squeezes her eyes shut.

She doesn't trust her voice.

"I still have nightmares," she whispers.

He doesn't know whether he should ask about them or pull her into his arms to comfort her.

Option two.

"Come here," he orders quietly.

She doesn't hesitate.

Her head fits perfectly in the crook of his neck, and his chin rests on the top.

His strong arms give her a feeling of security she hasn't experienced in God knows how long.

She feels safe, protected, cared for.

Elliot holds her tightly and breathes in the aroma of her hair.

Having Olivia in his arms is something he never expected to experience.

He's more than grateful that he gets to now.

He might not let her go.

Ever.

"He broke into my apartment and pointed a gun to my forehead. I froze. I didn't know what to do."

Elliot's thumb brushes her arm in a slow, circular motion.

He knows what happened, but he doesn't know the details.

He didn't want to hear them from anyone but her when she was ready.

"He tied me up. Put duct tape over my mouth. He hurt me."

Her voice is robotic.

"I was forced to drink alcohol."

He feels moisture slide down his neck.

She's trying to hold back her tears, but failing.

"God, when he smashed the gun to my head..."

She winces.

"I still have the scar."

She finds one of his hands and leads it to her forehead. She uses his index finger to trace the scar.

He inhales sharply, feeling the mark. He uses the opportunity to trail his finger down and wipe away a couple tears.

"He's a monster," Elliot says.

"He's dead," she responds.

Another tear escapes.

"He's dead, but he's still alive. I close my eyes, and I'm back in the trunk. Or in the backseat of the car, hidden under the tarp, and he killed that innocent cop."

She clutches his t-shirt until her knuckles go white.

"Or I'm in that goddamned house, handcuffed the the bed. The blood and sweat. He taunted me. Telling me what he's gonna do. The gun was in my mouth when I talked back. One little movement of his finger is all it took. I just wanted to live...I just wanted to live..."

She makes a small whimpering sound.

Elliot can't stop the couple tears from pooling over.

He could've lost her, and he wasn't there to save her.

"Somehow I broke free. I don't know how. I just kept fighting. Then he was on the ground, and I realized I did that. And I was beating him, and he was taunting me. I didn't shoot him. I wanted to watch him suffer. He broke me. I was a monster too."

"No, Liv, don't say that about yourself."

She continues.

"He brought up my mother. He brought up you. I told him what you would've done. Broke him. Broke him in every possible way. But he broke me. And I keep having nightmares."

That's all she says.

The tears stop flowing.

She releases his shirt and cups his face.

Elliot.

She smiles. "You're real."

"Olivia, the nightmares will fade away. I won't. Never again," he promises.

And the sincerity in his voice makes her believe him.

"You're safe now." He holds her closer. "You're okay."

She nods her head against him and releases a long sigh.

His warm embrace comforts her.

She believes him.

She does.

In his arms, she can sleep.

She closes her eyes and sees no nightmares.

She sees a familiar face smiling back at her.

The smiling face of the man holding her.

It's one final thought before she falls asleep.

Don't go.

Review please(: I hope you are enjoying this-the style is different for me, so I really hope you like it! Let me know! (: