Title: If That's What it Takes

Rating: Everybody. No language, no sex, okay, maybe a little violence, but not much.

Pairing: Olivia/Elliot romance/angst

Notes: This is the sequel to 'Story of My Life', which I wrote yesterday. And I wrote all this today, and my fingers are screaming, but I couldn't leave this alone, I had to get this out. I've been typing since nine this morning, it's just after six pm my time (EST) but I'm happy with it, finally. It's a little long, just over 9,000 words, but you're not going to be disappointed when you read it. I think. I was crying through the second half of it; you'll understand why when you read it. Anyway, I'm happy with it, and that's what counts.

And yes, there's going to be another sequel to this, but I can't guarantee when you'll get it because I have six other projects I have to get done. I'll have to see where my creative muse takes me next.

Thanks loads to the guys at for your excellent work in keeping up with the breakneck pace of my writing! It can't be easy reading pages and pages of my stuff to validate, and if I start whining about how long it takes to validate please ignore me! I really do appreciate it! Thanks!

Thanks loads to everyone over at you guys are the greatest! Thanks to all my reviewers, and thanks loads to Deana (look! I remembered the a!) for beta-ing!

EDIT 2/19/14: Song title, artist and lyrics removed from Author's Note and chapter text to comply with content guidelines. May also change chapter title to remove any reference that said chapter was inspired or influenced by outside work.

If That's What It Takes

The loud knocking echoed through the apartment.

Olivia looked up from the book she was reading and blinked, looking at the clock automatically. Almost midnight. She'd been sitting there reading for the better part of an hour and a half, so engrossed she'd forgotten that she'd been planning to go to bed at eleven. Oh well. She put the book down and absently turned the stereo down (she liked light soft music when she was reading) and went to the door., Through the peephole in the door she saw Elliot's tall frame standing outside, and she yanked the door open quickly.

"My God, El, you look like hell." Not that she looked any better, but she didn't care about that now as she stepped back, a mute invitation for him to enter. He did. She knew something was wrong when he just stood awkwardly beside the door, not making a move toward the couch where he usually sat when he came over. "El. Sit down. Want some coffee?"

"No." He was staring at his shoes. "No. I—I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come."

"Yes you should." She took his shoulders and pulled his coat off, distantly noting it was soaked with rain from outside, and hung it on the back of her door to drip dry while she placed a hand on the middle of his back and steered him toward the couch. "Sit. El, what's wrong?" When he didn't say anything, she crouched in front of him and cupped his chin in her hands, forcing him to look at her, actually look, for the first time since he'd walked in. "Elliot. Talk to me. Please." There was so much pain in his eyes that she felt a lump rising into her throat, and had to swallow hard.

"Kathywantstomoveoutofstate."

The words tumbled out, as if Elliot had had to push them all out at once before he lost his nerve. Olivia's brain separated the words, and her lips parted in a silent gasp as she realized what he was saying. "El…what about the kids?"

"I—" He shrugged helplessly, and stared silently out her living room window. "They have to go with her, I guess…I can't take them, with the job…God, Liv, what do I do? I don't want to lose my kids!" he buried his face in his hands. "Kat said she wants to stay in the city; she's eighteen, she can do what she likes, and Maureen's in college…but Lizzie and Dickie have to stay with Kathy, and if she moves I won't see them…" he choked on the words.

Olivia couldn't think of a single thing to say. Elliot was trying so hard not to fall apart right now, but she sensed he needed to. He'd tried to be so strong through the divorce and custody proceedings, and in the last few months seemed to have leveled out a little bit, but he was still slightly unstable. And this had just pushed him closer to that edge. Unable to think of anything else to do, she sat on the couch next to him and wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm all right," he tried to push her arms away, off him.

She resisted, tightening her grip. "El. Ssh. Come on, let go. Just once. It's me, Olivia. You don't have to be strong with me." And that was it; her strong, silent partner fell apart in her arms, leaning against her, his shoulders shaking with the sobs that threatened to tear his body apart.

She sat there for the longest time with him in her arms, listening to him cry. She'd never seen him like this before, but in retrospect she should have expected it. George had told her, after all, that Elliot was under a lot of strain and that eventually he'd snap, and she'd known she'd have to be there for him, no matter what it took. Now she was glad for her resolution, and she cradled his head in her hands, pressed his face into her shoulder, and ran her fingers through his hair, hushing him, making meaningless comforting sounds. The soft music was a comforting counter to his sobs, and she focused on the song to keep herself from giving in to her own sobs. She wanted to cry for him, wanted to take his hurt and anguish and pain on herself so he wouldn't have to feel it, but she couldn't.

God, she hurt so much for him just then. Why, oh why did Kathy do this? Didn't she know or care what she was going to do to Elliot? Did she know or care what it was going to do to the kids? Olivia understood on an instinctive level why Kathy had divorced him; it was hard enough being married to Elliot without being married to the whole squad too. But the SVU was such an intrinsic part of Elliot too; if he left, it would make him less than what he was, and he'd never be entirely happy anywhere else. Olivia knew enough about Elliot to believe that he'd be miserable anywhere else. She ruthlessly tamped down the little nagging part of her mind that told her she was going to miss him, that if he left the SVU she would be less than what she was too. He was such an integral part of her life now she couldn't imagine life without him.

She pushed it aside, squashed it and her feeling of loss, buried the black hole that threatened to swallow her heart. This wasn't about her. This was never about her. This was about Elliot, her partner, her best friend. The first 'best friend' she'd ever had in her life. And because he was her best friend, she had to put her own feelings aside, had to be there for him and support him no matter what he decided. If he decided he had to leave her and the squad, then she'd support him even if it killed her.

He cried for what seemed like an eternity. Olivia didn't keep track of time; she didn't let her eyes wander to the clock. She'd always assumed that she'd have Elliot as her partner for years, and she had; eight years. She'd thought it could go on forever, that they'd retire together, and wind up sitting in each other's front porch swings reminiscing about the 'good old days' and poking fun at the 'youngsters' that would come after them and try to fill their shoes. Now she knew that her time with him was finite, that she would lose him, and every moment she had with him now was doubly precious. Because there was no question; if Kathy moved, Elliot would too. His kids were his life, his heart, his soul. He might regret leaving the SVU, but he'd do what he had to in order to be with them. Not her. She was a friend, a co-worker, a partner. He might regret not working with her anymore, but he'd move on. Losing her wouldn't take as big a chunk out of him as losing his kids would.

"Olivia…"

He already didn't sound like himself anymore. And Olivia had to force down a wave of hatred toward Kathy for doing this to him. To them. "Sssh," she said, leaning back against the arm of the couch, shifting him so that he sat between her thighs and pulled him back to recline against her chest. "Rest, El. It's been a long day. You've always been there for me; my turn to return the favor." He relaxed against her, and despite how torn he was, she couldn't help but feel strangely comforted for a moment. This felt right; him sitting here, needing her…it wouldn't last long, but she'd treasure this night for the rest of her life. Even if her heart was breaking at the thought of losing him. After all, would she really lose him? She could call. She could visit. She and Kathy had a somewhat guarded friendship, mostly because Elliot's kids adored her; they were a good excuse to pay him a visit. Just because she didn't see him at work every day didn't mean that she'd lose him completely.

She wasn't aware when they both fell asleep; one minute she was listening to the music and Elliot's ragged breathing, and the next moment sun was pouring in through the rain-spattered window, turning the thousand droplets of water clinging to the glass into thousands of tiny prisms. And what had woken her was Elliot, pushing himself up, off her. She didn't want to wake up yet; she wanted to stay in that blissful half-awake state for just a little longer, and drift, and she curled up on her side and closed her eyes with a little sigh.

Elliot looked down at her. She'd looked like she was going to wake up, and now she was going back to sleep. He reached for the throw lying across the back of the couch and draped it over her as she curled up, and she gave a little sigh that made him smile a bit. Knowing she wouldn't mind…and knowing that in about a half-hour they'd both have to get ready for work…he put on a pot of coffee and headed for her bathroom.

The splash of cold water across his body woke him completely as he stepped into her shower, and he stood there and took it in as the water gradually warmed up and became a very welcome hot shower. He washed quickly, not wanting to use up all the hot water if she wanted to shower too, and stepped out. As he toweled off, he thought about the night before.

He hadn't meant to barge in on her just like that. It looked like he'd interrupted a quiet evening with a book and soft music, but he'd been so miserable that he hadn't really thought about what he was doing. He'd just needed someone to talk to, some sympathy, and Olivia was, as always, a ready source of both. She listened and she sympathized; he didn't know what he'd do without her when he moved and transferred to—wherever it was that Kathy wanted to go.

That thought made him stop. Did he really want to leave the SVU? Did he really want to leave his job? It wasn't like he'd lose his kids; Kathy had said she was thinking of moving to south Jersey, and it was only about a two hour drive. He could still see Lizzie and Dickie when he wanted to. And Kat and Maureen had already told him they wanted to stay in the city; Kat said she wasn't sure she wanted to start college just yet. She said she wanted to work a little bit and figure out what she wanted to do with her life, so he'd offered her the spare bedroom of his apartment if Kathy wanted to sell the house. Maureen was in a dorm. Kathy knew how much he loved the kids and he could always call them. He didn't have to leave the job. Didn't have to leave Don and John and Fin and the city he loved…and the woman he was starting to realize he felt something more for than just simple friendship.

He hadn't said anything, but he'd been watching Olivia rather obsessively over the last week. Since the night in the bar when he'd run into Freeman, and the memories of Olivia telling him about her life resurfaced, he'd come to a startling realization that somewhere along the way he hadn't just started falling in love with her, he was already drowning in it. The morning after he'd told Fin about Freeman at the bar, he'd sat for a while staring across the ocean of paperwork spread out across his and her desks, watched her sit there and scribble reports, fill out paperwork, and argue with a uniform about something relating to a case, and realized he'd looked at her but never really seen her. He thought he knew her inside and out, but he didn't.

He knew her favorite eat-out and takeout places; knew her favorite color, favorite food. He knew that she loved that brown leather coat she wore so often that she'd recently had the lining replaced instead of getting a new one. He knew she liked her coffee slightly strong, two sugars, one cream. He knew she loved dark chocolate. Knew she kept an emergency chocolate bar in the second drawer of her desk under her blank D5's. He even knew that she kept her Academy piece in the bottom drawer of her desk, in case she needed it. He knew her home phone number, cell phone number, social security number and her badge number as well as he knew his own.

But there were things he'd never noticed. For instance, he'd never noticed that she pointed with her right pinky. He'd never noticed that when she was thinking really hard, her brow furrowed and her lips parted a tiny bit. He'd never noticed that when she slept in the crib, she always slept on the lower bunks, never the upper ones, and she always faced the door. He'd looked at her face so many times and never noticed that one eyebrow was a little higher than the other, and the inequality gave her a slightly skeptical look when she was frowning and an endearingly happy one when she smiled. Never noticed that as her hair had grown out she'd taken to blowing stray locks out of her eyes when they fell over her face as she sat at her desk. Or that she'd taken to tossing it absently when she was reading.

Knowing that the day was drawing closer when Kathy would decide whether she wanted to move to New Jersey or not, and that whatever she decided would force him to make a decision he still wasn't sure he could make was driving him crazy. If he chose to stay here, would Lizzie and Dickie think that meant he didn't care about them? Would Kathy think that meant he no longer cared about them, or her? Despite the fact that she'd left him, he still loved her; it was just a different kind of love than what he'd felt when they had gotten married. And now it was complicated by something else; he'd fallen in love with his partner somewhere along the way…he still couldn't pinpoint when. Would his kids think that he was trying to replace their mother with Olivia? They liked Olivia; they asked about her constantly; but would they accept that she was something more to their father than just a partner? Olivia loved them; he knew she looked on his family as a sort of surrogate family of her own.

And, the big question…would Olivia herself accept him? He'd been her partner for years; would she—could she—see him as something else? As a lover, a bedmate, something more permanent? Did she? And if she did, would she allow herself to be selfish for once, and reach out to take what he offered? Or would the specter of Kathy and the possible reactions of his kids drive her away, into herself, force her to put aside whatever she might feel for him in favor of what she perceived as the 'greater good'—i.e., his family and himself. Would she allow herself to be happy with him?

"If you think any harder I'll start seeing smoke coming out of your ears," came an amused voice, and he wrapped the towel around his waist and whirled, to see Olivia leaning against the doorframe, warm amusement tempered by something else, something unfamiliar, in her eyes. "Here." She held out a pair of pants and shirt and tie to him.

"How did you get my clothes?' he stared at her as if she'd suddenly grown a second head.

"I iron your shirts because you burn holes in them, remember? You asked?" She grinned mischievously at him as she closed the bathroom door. "Hurry and get dressed. We're going to be late as it is."

He gestured to the shower. "Do you want to—"

She shook her head. "I shower in the evening." And she was gone.

He emerged from the bathroom shortly thereafter, to find her dressed in a pair of black slacks and wine-colored shirt with a neck zip. He loved that shirt; the deep color brought out all the honey tones in her skin, and highlighted the lighter streaks in her hair. He slipped into the kitchen behind her and snagged the second glass of orange juice she was pouring. "Good morning."

"Good morning, sleepyhead." She teased lightly.

"Yeah, well, you were right, yesterday was a long day." He hesitated. "Liv, look, about last night…I'm sorry for just barging in on you like that…"

"Don't mention it, El." Her smile was warm and sympathetic. "It was an awful piece of news for you. I'm glad you came to me to talk about it. Do you know what you're going to do yet?"

"No." he was honest. "I want to be with my kids, as much as possible since the option of living with them was taken out of my hands…but I also can't see leaving the One-Six and the squad—" he hesitated; he wanted to say and you, but he refrained; he still didn't know what she felt for him. He didn't know if saying something at this point would destroy what they had, so he kept silent. "What do you think?" he asked her.

"You need to go where your heart calls you, Elliot. This job…it's just that, it's just a job. It will pass on someday too. But your family, and the people who are most important to you…if you don't hang on to them they'll pass too, and without them, life isn't worth living."

"What do you think?"

Oh, God. Olivia opened the fridge and put the orange juice inside, thankful that the action kept her form having to look Elliot in the eye as she firmly quashed the selfish voice in the back of her head. "El, this isn't about me. This is about you."

"I'd still like to know what you think. Would you miss me?"

"Didn't we have this conversation on April Fools day when Don gave me a fake set of transfer papers?"

"Olivia, please. I'm serious now. Would you miss me?"

She had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could answer, and when she did she was surprised at how steady her voice was, because her heart wasn't. "Yes, I would. I'd miss Fin or John or Don too, if any of them transferred." It wasn't the answer he was looking for, and she knew it, but she couldn't bring herself to say what she really thought. So she put on her professional mask and switched conversation topics. "So what's on the agenda today?"

"Are you doing anything important today?"

She sipped as she considered. "Well, I've actually cleared the last of my priority cases. There's the Gracie Horst case, but I think that's cold, as much as I hate to admit it. There's just a lot of paperwork from the Drew case and the playground rapist. Don actually told me yesterday that I could take today off if I wanted to, but I'd still like to come in. In case you guys need help."

"I really hated this working apart thing we've been doing recently, you know," he told her.

"I know. I hated it too," she said sincerely, taking a slice of toast out of her toaster and handing it to him before she took the other for herself. "But there weren't any other options. There were too many cases, more than two teams could handle, and four people working on six cases each separately can give each case more attention than two teams handling twelve cases each."

"Still didn't like it."

"Well, it seems like we're through the rocky bit. Could you use my help today with any of your open cases? How many do you have right now?"

"Five open." He grimaced; Olivia had closed five of her own. "I got a lead that the perp from the Frankle case is holed up a dive on the lower east side; Want to go with me and help me get his ass?"

"I'm game." Olivia took his empty juice glass from him and put it in her sink, followed by her own, and they both shrugged into their coats.

The conversation as they rode to the precinct stayed on work, by her choice; he kept trying to steer the conversation to the events of last night, and she kept deflecting him. He was frustrated by the time they got there, but he consoled himself with the thought that they would go out after lunch to the Eastside dive and pick up the pedophile who had raped five-year old Natalie Frankle. Not even Cragen's 'you're late, you two' could allay his pleasure at the prospect of having her by his side again, and he garnered a few suspicious looks from Fin and John by his apparent good mood. Not that he cared.

It started to rain as they headed out for a quick lunch before heading out to the lower east side. He gave her the casefile to look over as he finished his meal (she always ate quickly) and by the time he was done, she was fully briefed on the suspect. "Thank you, El."

"For what?" he asked as they left the diner and went out into the pouring rain.

"For letting me get your back." One last time, she wanted to add, but she squashed that firmly. Maybe he'd decide to stay, and then she'd feel bad for making him feel guilty enough to stay when he really wanted to go. She couldn't tell him how she felt until he'd made his choice and she could be sure she hadn't influenced him in any way; it was the only way to make sure her own conscience was clear. She couldn't keep him here if he wanted to go, for her own selfish reasons; she loved him too much to do that to him.

He opened his umbrella over her as he fiddled with the car door, then she held it for him as he climbed inside. She closed it as she rounded the back of the car, but it was raining so hard her hair was soaked when she climbed into the front passenger seat. She frowned as she dug through her coat pockets. 'I wish I'd brought an elastic."

"Why?"

"Get this mess out of my face. Sometimes I miss the short hair."

"I don't. You look good the way you are now."

She flashed him a bright smile. "Wow. I look good with dripping wet hair. Thanks."

"You know that's not what I meant—"

"Yes, El, I know!" She laughed at him. "God, you are so easy to tease."

He chuckled. "Almost as easy as you."

It was a short ride from the diner to the eastside address. Elliot looked up at it doubtfully as he got out. "Looks like it's mostly empty."

"Can you blame it? It's looks like it's ready to fall over at any moment." It was a dilapidated apartment building. "I doubt anyone lives here by choice…unless you're hiding from the police, that is. I don't think anyone would want to walk in there. It looks like a fire trap." She went to the front door, opened it. "Well, well. Guess someone had the same idea."

Elliot shook his head as he holstered his gun and inspected the sign hanging from the plastic yellow caution tape. "'Scheduled for demolition'. Well, I can't say as I blame whoever made that decision."

Olivia started up the stairs, gun at the ready. "Liv! It's scheduled for demolition. The building's unsound. Come down off there." She paused on the first floor landing and motioned to him for silence. And in the sudden quiet, devoid of their voices and footsteps, they heard someone moving, very quietly, somewhere above them.

As quietly as he could, Elliot took out his gun and started up the stairs. Ahead of him, Olivia moved just as quietly, catlike, her shoes somehow miraculously making little noise as she listened at the second floor landing, then started ascending the third. "Liv! Wait for me!" Elliot called up to her in a hissed voice just barely above a whisper, and she looked down at him, momentarily distracted, as he tried to free his sleeve from a nail that had snagged a button as he brushed against it.

A shot rang out, followed by a cry of pain, and Elliot looked up just in time to see Olivia drop her gun. It rattled to the floor as she flung herself around the edge of the staircase wall, a successful attempt to avoid the second bullet that bored into the wall against which she'd been standing. Her teeth gritted in pain as her left hand clutched at the spreading stain of blood on the joint of her uppe right arm and shoulder. "He shot at me. Son of a bitch shot at me." She cursed through gritted teeth. "Damn it, I was stupid." Above them, they heard the sound of footsteps, running up a flight of steps somewhere above them. "Elliot, he's getting away. Go!" He hesitated, and she snapped out, "I'll be fine! Go!" He took off.

The pounding footsteps made their way up the flights, and Elliot counted even as he pounded up the same steps. Fourth floor. Fifth floor. He was in the middle of the fifth when a third bullet zinged past his ear and buried itself in the soft stucco of the wall, and he looked up just long enough to catch a glimpse of a swarthy face and a black hooded sweatshirt disappear through the door to the roof. "He's on the roof!" he called down to Olivia, and then lunged for the door, bursting through it.

The suspect, Chris Smallwood, stood in the center of the roof, his gun pointed at Elliot's heart. "You ain't takin' me alive, cop," he ground out. "I got your partner, I can get you too."

Elliot stepped out onto the roof. Chris Smallwood was panting, so out of breath that the gun was wavering wildly up and down. He gauged the distance, the man's aim, the way his arm was shaking, and said coldly, "Chris Smallwood, you are under arrest for the rape of Natalie Frankle and resisting arrest. You have the right to remain silent—" He was watching the other man's eyes intently, so he saw the twitch of an eyelid right before the man pulled the trigger. He ducked as soon as he saw the twitch; the bullet flattened itself against the metal of the door. He advanced. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right—" Another twitch, another wasted bullet, and Elliot knew the revolver was empty. He holstered his gun as he lunged forward, and pinned the suspect against the dilapidated, shaky metal railing that framed the building's rooftop. "You have the right to an attorney—"

"Elliot!" he looked up, and saw Olivia striding toward him, still holding her arm but looking otherwise all right. "Are you okay? I heard a shot," she said, coming to a stop beside him.

"I got him, Liv—" he said, but just as her name left his lips the battered metal railing gave way under his and Chris Smallwood's combined weight. He had barely a second to realize he was falling, and a scream pierced his ears.

And then suddenly he stopped falling, with a jerk that yanked the breath completely out of his body, and he looked up to see Olivia, on her stomach at the edge of the roof, both hands wrapped around his right arm. Her face was twisted in an expression of incredible agony; Elliot tried to breathe, and couldn't, and looked down to see Chris Smallwood grabbing his ankles. He hadn't finished cuffing the guy.

Olivia was crying out in harsh, panting gasps, and he realized what the strain of supporting two men's weight was costing her, especially with one injured arm. Her blood slicked her fingers, and she was clawing for purchase on his rain-slippery-coated right arm. "Elliot…" it was a whimper of agony. "Grab my other arm…" He reached for her other arm, and hesitated. She was holding onto his right arm with her left, and if he grabbed her arm, he'd be putting intolerable strain on her wounded right arm. "Olivia," he said.

"Damn it, El, grab my arm!" She screamed at him, and he saw her face, wracked with agony but set in determination, and she grabbed his left arm herself with her injured right. The effort cost her, and she screamed aloud with the pain.

Oh my God. He couldn't do this to her. She was hurting…how bad had the bullet wound been? "Let me go, Olivia! Let me go!" he screamed at her, trying to will his fingers to let go of their death grip on her arms.

She looked back at him, agony written all over her face, and screamed, "No! I'm not losing you!" She seemed to be doing something with her lower half, probably trying to get a foot or kneehold on the wet roof to try and pull him up. And then Elliot felt the jerk on his body, and Olivia screamed in agony again even as she fell forward, her precarious foothold lost as Chris Smallwood started to crawl his way up Elliot's body.

No. Elliot saw it in a flash. Olivia wasn't going to let him go. If he went, she would go too. If Chris succeeded in reaching Olivia, he'd climb up over her and then send them both to the alley below, dead.

It was either Chris or Olivia. And there was no question whose life was worth saving.

So Elliot started kicking. Each frantic kick from his legs was costing Olivia; he could hear her agonized gasps above him, but it was serving its purpose because Chris was slipping down his soaked pant legs, losing ground. Suddenly, Elliot could breathe again, because Chris was no longer clinging to him, he was a corpse lying in the alley below, and Olivia was renewing her struggle to pull him to safety. He braced his feet against the side of the building, using her arms as a rappelling rope as he 'walked' up the side of the building. Every gasp, every moan, every whimper from her tore him apart, but her grip on him never faltered until he swung a knee up over the side of the roof and pulled himself up. And then crouched there for the longest moment, trying to get his breath back and blink the away the dark specks that swam in his peripheral vision and threatened to take away his consciousness.

He forced himself to move before he'd quite cleared his vision, because Olivia was crying only a few feet away from him. Lying flat on her back on the roof, half-screaming, half crying. He'd never heard her make sounds like that before, and they tore his heart apart even as he scrambled to her side, sick at the sight of the blood that ruined her favorite coat. There was a lot of it, and as he pushed her coat open, she screamed out, "Oh God Elliot no don't touch me please God…!" And he saw the terrible distortion in her shoulders under that dark-red top. She'd dislocated her shoulders when she caught them; and he realized that the scream as he fell hadn't been himself, it had been her. Despite the terrible pain of dislocated arms, she'd held on with superhuman strength, long enough to pull him to safety before she collapsed herself.

"Liv, Liv, oh God…" He wracked his brain, trying to remember…when he was in the Marines, one of his buddies had dislocated an arm in an accident, and the drill sergeant had snapped it back. The problem was, he couldn't remember how the man had done it. If he did it wrong, he could make things worse. He couldn't believe she was still conscious, because she was in so much pain, surely her body would have caused her to black out before this…and the bullet hole in her upper arm was spurting blood, oh sweet Jesus, it had to have hit an artery for her to be losing so much blood, how in God's name had she done it?

He pressed shaking hands to her arm even as he heard sirens scream into the alley below. Liv must have called for backup before she joined him on the roof; he heard the confused babble of voices below. He summed up all his breath to bellow "Help! Up here, officer down!" The door below slammed open, and he pressed her arm in an attempt to slow the bleeding. Her lips were moving; he leaned forward to hear her.

"Hurts oh God please hurts please God save him please I can't I'm not strong enough please…" She was delirious with the pain; she didn't even realize she'd saved him before she collapsed.

"Ssssh. Sssh, Liv. Stay with me, Liv, stay with me. You're gong to be okay, help's on the way…they're coming, Liv, they're coming right now. I'm okay, Liv, you saved me. I'm okay."

She didn't seem to have heard him; her eyes were rolling wildly, glazed with pain and anguish. She was too fargone in the hellish pain to hear him. "Elliot oh God please forgive me I love you don't leave me please survive the fall please God let him survive I can't live without him I need him…Elliot oh God please forgive me I wasn't strong enough I wasn't strong enough to save you this time…"

There were tears of pain and anguish coursing down her cheeks, and his own, but he didn't care about his as he desperately tried to get him to hear her. "Olivia, it's me, it's Elliot, please, God, be okay, Olivia, I'm okay, you saved me, please, baby, please, don't die, honey, sweetheart, please…"

And suddenly hands were on his shoulders, on his arm, pulling him away from her, and he struck out blindly, not caring who it was, until other hands captured his fists and a voice, harsh with tears, cried out in his ear, "Elliot, let the paramedics work…" and he looked around and realized that it was Cragen, and Fin held one arm and John held the other. There were tears on all their faces, and Elliot broke down and sank to his knees, dragging Don Cragen down to the rooftop with him.

He sobbed out in heartbreaking anguish. "I couldn't make my fingers let go I told her to let me go but she didn't…!"

And Don held him and let him cry on his shoulder as Fin and John watched him cry, and he didn't care who saw as he watched through tear blinded eyes while Olivia's still body was taken back through the rooftop door.

"I want to ride." HE struggled to his feet, and they let him go.

She was still crying in pain as the EMTs loaded her in, but it was muffled right now by the oxygen mask. She didn't care' all she was aware of was the pain in her body and the pain in her heart; \the one in her heart hurt the most, because she knew with sick certainty that it was never going to go away. Elliot was the first person in her life she'd ever truly loved, wholeheartedly, unreservedly, and she had let him die. And she didn't know how she'd live without him. Her body sucked in the oxygen from the mask even while her mind rebelled, screaming in anguish and rage at herself. She didn't deserve the oxygen. She didn't deserve their help. She didn't deserve to be saved. She didn't know how she'd live without him. She didn't know how she'd live with the knowledge that she'd killed him, that he'd died because she wasn't strong enough to save him. She kept trying to pull the mask off, and getting frustrated because every tiny movement of her arms brought incredible agony. She welcomed the pain; it was a welcome distraction from the pain in her heart, and again she managed to dislodge the mask.

"Liv. Stop. Leave it on. It will help." The voice cut through the haze of pain like a knife, and even as it spoke a sudden warmth began to spread from the inside of her left elbow and up through her body. The pain receded before it, and she suddenly realized the voice was familiar. She shook her head frantically, trying to dislodge the mask so that she could see the face that went with that voice, because it had to be a miracle, had he caught his fall and saved himself? The mask came off again, and she saw, through tear-blurred eyes, the concerned face of her partner, her friend, the man she loved. Elliot.

"El…" One syllable, in a weak voice; it was all she could manage, but somehow he heard her. He leaned in, and she saw tears in his eyes.

"It's okay, Liv. I'm here. I'm right here. You held on to me. You saved me. I won't leave you, Liv. I'll ever leave you. I love you too."

The pain subsided below her consciousness, and then her consciousness started to fade with it. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, too, and she'd never leave him, but a welcome, numbing darkness spread itself over her mind, and she drifted for a moment, or an eternity, she didn't know which, and in the darkness all she could hear was a song.