Chapter Twenty-One

His words reminded her of what he'd said to her, when he'd been talking to her "twin," the announcement that had so shocked her that her memory had returned. He'd said she was the only partner he'd ever have, that he'd quit his job rather than work with someone else. And she couldn't help but wonder if that meant he'd prefer to stay friends, so that they might stay partners too. She swallowed hard and said nothing, hoping he'd fill the silence since she was too crushed to speak. Hell, it was hard enough to breathe.

"I know you, Liv. I know how you look at me. I know how you carry yourself which, believe it or not, was a physical difference between you now and you yesterday." He reached over, unfolding her hands so he could hold one of them. "I even know how your breath hitches when you're trying not to cry, even when I don't have any idea why you might since I'm not saying anything that should make you."

Shocked by his last statement, she met his eyes and let him see the moisture there. He was right, of course. But she mentally argued that it would hardly take a brain surgeon to know that he'd hurt her feelings, even if he was denying knowledge of it.

His fingers laced through hers, his warm skin pressing against hers. "I questioned it, especially when you didn't say anything. I thought maybe I was wrong." He cleared his throat and finally pulled his eyes away. "I didn't like thinking that I didn't know you that well after all." He leaned over, making sure not to jostle her sore leg, and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. "But I do."

She had to laugh at his omniscient tone. "Oh, yeah? You know me that well, huh?" He nodded, showing no embarrassment whatsoever for his newfound proclivity to kiss her. "So when did my memory come back?" She issued the challenge, figuring it would come across as flirting. In truth, she was terrified because she needed to know some of his romantic display had been when he knew she was the audience.

He grinned at her, taking his hand back to reach under the blanket and run it possessively along her leg. "Right after I told you I'd never work with anyone else."

She shivered, but it was likely as much from his hand teasing the edge of her dress further up as from his verbal accuracy. Damn if the man wasn't good.

"That's why you made a beeline for the bathroom." He held her eyes as his hand dared to slide higher, setting her heart to race because he had to be a scant few seconds from finding out she was wearing stockings. Which, she prayed, would be the end of the discussion. The spoken one, at least.

"You were so nervous and upset that I wasn't quite sure because I've never seen you like that." He shifted slightly in his seat and allowed his other hand to caress her lower leg. "You wouldn't look at me after that so I asked you to dance. I knew I'd be able to tell if I could touch you."

She was about to scream from the desire his hands had so quickly spooled in her body. She really wanted to moan and encourage him to hurry the hell up, spurred on by the idea that he was shifting around to either relieve pressure on or divert attention from the raging hard-on she was hoping he had. But his words managed to sink through her hazy brain and the bullshit of his answer irritated her, more so because his hands were so not irritating her. "Like you know how I dance. Right. Try something slightly more believable, El." She had to force herself to do it, but she snapped her legs shut, ignoring the pain in her ankle and her disappointment that she'd successfully gotten him to relocate both of his hands to outside the blanket.

She was even more disappointed when he sighed, lifting her legs up carefully to get out from under them.

"Oh, come on, Liv." He shook his head sadly as he knelt beside her. "You have more confidence than that."

She still refused to meet his eyes as she readied herself for the "your friendship means too much to me" speech. She suspected it would be a doozy.

He reached over, turning her face to meet his, staring at her with so much adoration that it nearly made her cry again. "I knew I was right because you were so damn tense when I put my arms around you. I thought you were going to jump out of your skin, which is the way I always expected you to be if I ever dared come on to you."

She swallowed hard, trying to quiet her fears, needing Elliot to help her. "And it didn't occur to you that maybe I was just nervous dancing in front of a crowd without ever having danced before?"

He shook his head. "No, not once." His smug, conceited look, the one he always got when a pretty girl smiled at him, was firmly entrenched on his face. "Perhaps you've forgotten, but Amnesiac Liv kind of liked being in my arms." His grin widened and she started to wonder if it might take over his whole face. He'd kind of deserve it for being a prick. "And in my lap."

She wanted to smack him. Instead she raised one eyebrow. "I don't seem to remember you having much of an issue with her being in your lap either."

"Like I was saying, she liked me and wasn't the slightest bit tense when I touched her." He reached out, tracing his finger over her lips, only stopping when she shivered. "See? You're so tense I could bounce a quarter off you."

She glared at him, refusing to concede the point. "The crunches might have something to do with that."

He didn't bother to acknowledge her joke. His fingers continued to move, slowly tracing over her face, setting her skin to tingle in their wake. "And the way you said my name when we were dancing, that was the last straw."

She was trying to think, but failing whenever her attention attempted to move beyond the feeling of his hand on her face. "How did your name give me away?"

"It was just the way you said it. I knew it was you. It was different before, when you had no memory." He shrugged. "I can't explain it, Liv, but I knew it was you and you really should stop arguing because we both know I'm right."

Batting his hand away, she cleared her throat and promised herself she wouldn't beg him to make love to her. At least not in the middle of a conversation. At least not until he gave some indication that he might be planning such a thing. More indication than pawing at her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She knew he could throw the words right back at her, demand to know why she hadn't told him, refuse to accept the answer she'd given him on the street.

"Sit up." He climbed to his feet, an embarrassed smile appearing when his knees cracked in protest of the length of time he'd been kneeling.

Grumbling and unhappy, she did so. She had to use her arms to keep steady since she had to keep one of her legs in the air. But Elliot reached for her, sliding his arm behind her back to support her as he sat down. Then he pulled her back across him, settling her upper body across his lap the same as her legs had been earlier.

One of his hands sought hers, the sheer size of it able to fold completely around hers. His other hand tangled in her hair, smoothing the short locks back from her face. "I didn't tell you for the same reason you didn't tell me. Because I wanted to tell you what I told you. I knew you'd have to listen without running away." He met her eyes for a beat while he worried his lip between his teeth. "It was easier to say it while we were both pretending, you know?"

She understood perfectly. She knew how much she'd wanted to hear those words, those words that she doubted would ever have been spoken if it hadn't been for the lack of inhibition of someone who didn't remember all the complications of their relationship. And stupid as she knew it was, she dissected his words until she could find something she knew he probably hadn't intended. She was used to running away and it was hard to resist her instinct. "It was easier to talk to me when I didn't remember."

He missed the imperceptible change in her mood. "You were different – innocent, kind of. The way I always imagined you would have been if you'd had a different set of circumstances."

Separating their hands, Olivia made a move to sit up, failing entirely when Elliot put his arm around her. She wasn't in the mood to snuggle, not with what she was hearing. It didn't even make any sense that he was trying, except that maybe he'd gotten so wound up on the dance floor that he fully expected she'd be resolving that situation. "You liked her better."

He laughed, assuming she was making a joke. "You and her are the same person, Liv."

"You just said she was different." She pulled his arm away from her, pushing herself into a sitting position. As much as she loved the feeling of leaning against him, she wasn't about to mislead him. And she wasn't about to have sex with him because he thought she owed him.

He let her sit up, but he reached for her, turning her chin to face him. "It was you. But you were coming on to me. You were flirting with me." He shrugged before he let go of her chin and dropped his eyes to stare at his lap. "I liked it, Liv."

His answer was exactly what she'd thought. He'd like her when she'd been different. When she thought about it, it was obvious. They'd been partners for ten years. He'd been separated from his wife for two of them. And he'd never once made a move on her or gave any indication that he'd appreciate her making a move on him. He was attracted to her physically, but that was where the attraction ended. "Because she wasn't like me."

"No, damn it!" He stood up suddenly, starting to pace the length of her living room. "Why are you doing this? Why are you picking this apart?" And then he was beside her again, sitting sideways to face her, holding her face between his hands, staring at her with tears welling in his eyes. "I wanted her because she was you, Liv. Because I want you. Because I love you."

Maybe it was hearing the words when he wasn't yelling at her. Maybe it was the honesty in his eyes. Maybe it was the fact that he'd laid it all out there twice for her without asking her to reveal anything of herself.

She'd never thought of Elliot as the more emotionally open of the pair. The idea brought a smile to her face. Because he'd known it all along. Because he'd done what he had to, opened himself up to her repeatedly, to get her to believe him.

She reached up, taking his hands in hers. "I'm not good with his stuff, El."

He smiled and squeezed her hands. "No shit, Sherlock."

"Neither are you, for the record."

Nodding, he settled back on the couch, using their joined hands to pull her against him once again. "Yeah, ok, so?"

"So what if we fuck this up?" She couldn't help but close her eyes, inhaling the scent of him deeply. A yawn forced its way out of her mouth, reminding her that the emotional roller coaster had been rather exhausting.

"We'll figure it out." He leaned down, kissing the top of her head. "Get some sleep, baby. We can talk about it in the morning."

She looked up at him, trying to smile seductively as another yawn spilled forth. "Sleep? You want to sleep?"

He chuckled, wrapping the blanket around them both. "That's all we're going to do until you're a hundred percent." He hugged her closer. "You're going to have to be able to stand up."

"Why? Horizontal works just fine."

He caught her hands again, lacing their fingers together. "If you can't stand on your own, I won't be able to tell when I make your knees give out."

His words sent a shiver through her. "And that's important?"

"Oh, yeah."

"You're still a tease." She grinned up at him.

"So are you." His arms formed the perfect cradle for her body as his breath fell across her neck.

"We'll see about that." She snuggled into him, deciding she never wanted to go to sleep any other way.

finis