|Fire and Ice
Author: Ayshen PM
Series of unrelated EO one-shots/shorts. Eighth is, "We Are Broken" "It was under the black sky, no hint of stars that she understood the depths of her love for this man."Rated: Fiction M - English - Angst/Romance - E. Stabler & O. Benson - Chapters: 8 - Words: 15,367 - Reviews: 63 - Favs: 25 - Follows: 30 - Updated: 03-11-13 - Published: 01-17-12 - id: 7751504
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: This is sequel to, "God Damn Those Eyes." What the muse wants, the muse gets.
Six Months Later
I know that I'll never be alone
you will never let me go
you are my anchor
hold my hand
while I'm sinking in the sand
no one else could understand
(Anchor – Lifehouse)
"Good morning beautiful"
He whispers it at the nape of her neck, hot breath, prickly stubble dancing along her naked skin. She sighed, feeling the way his body curved protectively around her…her safe place, her armor.
"Morning" she murmurs back sleepily still not sure this isn't some dream she is going to wake up from, stuck in bed alone, that boulder crushing her lungs once again.
A kiss is placed on her temple, "I can hear you thinking"
Bastard doesn't have his memories back and still can read her like an open book he's thumbed through a thousand times.
"I love you Liv, no matter what, I love YOU" he annunciates the last word, letting it coat her skin like warm honey.
Closing her eyes she allows herself to get lost in the heat of his skin, the warmth he brings to her chilled bones, and she tries not to think about what happens if those lost memories come back, if he suddenly remembers the life he lived before this moment.
She's scared to lose him. She doesn't say it, but she doesn't need to. They can read each other; it was surreal to him at first, how she simply got him in a way that no one had since the accident. Looking into her eyes had been a homecoming, a rebirth of sorts and he couldn't fathom that any memory of the life he had before her could change that.
The truth was that for months after his accident, it was like walking dead. He felt nothing, darkness seeping into his skin, blood running like molasses through his veins every moment until he closed his eyes at night…until he allowed those orbs to come into view, center him, make him believe it wasn't the end.
It had been six months since that night…since the first time he touched her, laid hands upon her, claimed her as his own. She had tried to send him home that night as they raged together, cried together, came together again.
"Go home Elliot, please, just go home"
If he hadn't been looking into her eyes, seeing the amount of pain that filled them he would have been hurt. Instead he's angry, they've found each other. In a city of eight million pairs of eyes, he had found her again, and there was no way in hell he was letting her go.
His jaw clenches, fists balled up at his sides, "You mean the house in Queens? Cause, that's not home. Every time I'm there, I'm crawling out of my skin, everyone looking at me like some caged up zoo attraction. That's not a home Liv, a home is somewhere you feel at peace, where you feel you can rest your head…and the first time since I woke up in the hospital, I feel home, with you"
Tears escape her eyes and he steps forward grasping her arms gently, pulling her to him, resting his forehead against hers, "Please"
"I just don't want you to regret me…this" she lets choke out.
He doesn't know how he understands the depth of what she's saying, how he can understand things she hasn't told him about herself but it clenches his heart and he feels his own eyes pool with tears. His hands slide up her arms to cup her face, swiping the tears with his thumbs, "I will never regret you, no memory can ever make me regret this"
His fingers hook in the waistband of the NYPD sweats she wears slowly sliding them down her thighs, over her calves, pulling them off to toss across the room. His mouth touches her ankle and he can hear sigh as he begins to pepper kisses up her long bronzed legs. She's beautiful, it's undeniable, but it's so much more than physical, them together is akin to a religious experience, she is his salvation.
Gently he kisses up her thighs, across her hips, pushing the shirt up as he continues to paint her curves with his lips, stripping the tank over her head, leaving her bare for him. Her breasts are full, heavy in his hands and he leans down to pull the nipple between his lips, suckling gently, swirling his tongue over the pebbled nub until her nails are raking down his shorn head, scratching his scalp encouragingly.
Quickly he rids himself of his own pajama pants, making her whimper as he pulls away from bathing her nipple with his tongue, and grabs his length pointing it to her and pushing in with one long stroke. He buries himself, lost in the feel of her velvet walls clenching at him, a perfect fit, like two connecting puzzle pieces.
Slowly he begins to move inside of her, his hands snaking around her to pinch at her nipples, caress her breasts as he fills her, long, deep strokes, going almost torturously slow, his tongue and mouth running over her neck, kissing her shoulders.
"El" she moans and he knows what she needs as he begins to thrust harder, faster, their skins slapping together as he consumes her, her body arching to meet his, match the way he pumps inside of her.
She whimpers, moans as the orgasm ripples through her and he squeezes his eyes shut as he feels himself swell and coat her insides.
They both pant, breathless and he kisses the spot behind her ear and smiles, soft inside of her, "I love you Olivia"
His head throbs from the moment he slips out of bed. It's on his way to the kitchen that the barrage begins.
No, I wouldn't have. Did you really expect me to? Did you really expect me to cause your death, Elliot? What about your kids? What about me?
He grasps at his forehead beginning to stumble, trying to find the couch under his clouded vision.
You and this job are about the only things I've got anymore. I don't want to wreck that.
I'd give you a kidney.
If you can't trust your partner, Elliot, it's time to get a new one.
I sure as hell wouldn't drive all the way to Queens just to save you ass.
They come in rapid succession, like bullets to the chest and he can't breathe, his eyes blurred and he tries to focus, to see those cappuccino colored orbs as the blinding light consumes him.
Look, we both chose each other over the job. We can never let that happen again. Otherwise... we can't be partners.
Maybe God just remembered how cute you were as a carrot.
You're the longest relationship I've ever had with a man.
As his legs faltered it was like an outer body experience, watching his body fall as the darkness overwhelmed him, "Liv" falling from his lips like a sinner's prayer.
Her eyebrows furrow together the moment she steps out of the shower. She doesn't smell coffee, doesn't hear the buzz of the morning program. It's their routine but something feels off, like her world is tilting on the wrong side of the axis.
The moment she sees him on the floor, his body seizing, blue eyes rolled back in his head, she feels the terror course through her body and she practically dives down next to his side, "El, El, please" she begs grabbing his hand, reaching around for the house phone, trying to remember all the things she learned about emergency situations and faltering as she dials 911 practically sobbing in the operator's ear.
Numb…she feels nothing as she paces the hallways of the hospital. Kathy is there, still on record as his next of kin…still his wife. They don't speak but look at each other with the same kind of sadness. Its hours before they know anything of substance and then the doctor comes out and her world fades to shades of gray, "He's awake…and he's regained his memories"
His eyes blink rapidly, the nurse shining the light in them, "Welcome back Mr. Stabler" she says with a cheerful smile as she sticks a straw to his lips.
He doesn't realize how thirsty he is until he is sucking the cool liquid down his parched throat. He remembers…everything.
And he hates himself for it because the only thing he wants in that moment is the touch of her skin, for her to slide next to him and curl into his side like she was made to fit there.
"Your wife is outside, would you like to see her?"
Before he can think he's offering a terse shake of the head and the nurse nods understandingly and leaves the room. Running his hands over his face he fights the dread that fills him…she's going to run…and he has to stop her.
She lost him once and it almost broke her; she's not sure how to do it again this time. Not when her apartment smells like him, his sweats still on the floor of the bedroom, his coffee mug sitting next to hers on the shelf.
Sliding under the sheets they picked out she lets her hand run along the side he's claimed, the phantom pain of what she's lost pulling the sob from her gut.
Its three days before they'll release him. His wife had come in the first night, the sun dipping behind the trees and she looked at him and knew. There was some comfort in that; that they both accepted they had been living on the fumes of the life they thought they would have.
Olivia wouldn't answer his calls, and, more than once, he had tried to rip the IV from his arms and get to her but he knew that showing up and collapsing at her door step was probably not the wisest option. So he waited, called her, left her messages…some sad, some angry, some begging. He knew her well enough to know she probably hadn't listened, decided to fall on her own sword, walk away and make his decision easy.
It's the simple things, like the way she can feel his presence before his fist ever hits the door and she's not sure she's ready but she plasters on a pained smile and swings it open, "Hey" she answers trying her best to swallow the bile that rises in her throat.
He almost loses it at the way she says it, like they hadn't made love on that couch days before, like he didn't know where every scar and birthmark was on her body…like he hadn't been made to fit inside of her.
Waving her hand she avoids his eyes, "It's okay, I'm okay"
And he knows this is her version of running this time, of releasing him from the burden of herself and it crushes every inch of his heart and his legs move underneath him, arms wrapping around her tightly. She resists, pushing back, kicking her legs as his lips come to her ear, "I remember everything Liv" he whispers harshly, "Everything"
She stills against him, "El"
"I don't want to remember some of it" he whispers his own tears staining her shoulder, "Jenna, Gitano, you leaving…me walking away but the worst ones…they haven't happened yet because they're the thoughts of letting you go…of going back to some life I don't want anymore"
It's pained, a beg for mercy, but he's not letting her go…it's impossible now, even if he knew it mean impending death he'd hold onto her until his last breath, "It's you" he tells her harshly, "Fuck, it's you, don't tell me you don't feel it"
Her body goes limp in his arms, the struggle, the fight gone and she can't lie to him, even if she thinks it would spare him the pain they will go through later.
His mouth is on her neck, soft kisses, open, wet mouthed laid all over her skin and she's powerless against it, their connection overshadowing everything and when he turns her flush to him she can't help but look up into his eyes. They have deepened to a stunning cobalt shade, shimmering with unshed tears and she crashes her mouth upon his, winds her arms around his neck and she holds onto him because he is her anchor…he always has been.