Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s late when his phone vibrates nearly off the dresser, and he almost doesn’t answer because it’s the night of his not-wedding and he’s not on call. His woman is warm, and in his bed, and he’s exhausted. He glances at the display and frowns when he sees it reads Stabler.

He’s tempted to let it go to voicemail, but his gut tells him it’s important. The man wouldn’t be calling otherwise. He reaches for the cell and hits the green button. “This better be good, man,” he grumbles in greeting.

“Fin, Liv’s in trouble. There was a car following too closely behind her with their brights on and I told her to let them pass, but I think she must have gotten hit or something because the phone cut off abruptly and now, she’s not answering –”

“Elliot, take a breath, and tell me what you need me to do,” Fin interrupts, sensing a rising hysteria and trying to head it off at the pass.

Fin had left Liv and Elliot alone on the dance floor back at the reception, understanding the importance of their reconnection. They’d been fine. Carisi and Rollins had headed off to the courthouse. Liv was supposed to follow right behind, but she’d lingered and no one had the heart to call her out on the reason why. Not when that reason had her cradled securely in his arms, swaying them both softly. It'd been the happiest Fin had seen her in a long time.

Fast, heavy breathing answers him now, and Fin can practically feel the panic on the other end ratcheting up by the second. "That’s what I’m trying to tell you, ” Elliot grits out through what sounds like clenched teeth. “If she’s been hit, run off the road, it could be bad, Fin. We have to find her and her phone is going straight to voicemail.”

Fin rubs at his forehead, his own worry starting to take hold at the implications. “Ok, ok. We’ll track her phone and send a bus and a unit to the location.” He pauses, considering. “Don’t jump to worse case scenarios, man. Nothing good will come of it.” Fin tries to reassure himself as much as he tries to calm Elliot down on the other end of the line.

There’s a heartbreaking beat of silence and Fin thinks he might have hung up but then, Elliot speaks again, voice a brittle, tremulous thing. “I need her to be okay, Fin. Nothing can happen to her.” It’s an admission wrought with simmering grief. A man on the verge. And Fin knows. He knows what it must cost him to admit it aloud.

“You and me both,” Fin says, feeling the weight of the past heavy on his shoulders. History cannot repeat itself. Not again. They have to find her.

…

Fin’s mind is reeling as he climbs into his SUV and practically peels away from the curb. Liv was found semi-conscious in her vehicle on the side of the road. He was told what hospital she’s being taken to and now he has to let Elliot know without freaking him the hell out. Fuck. This is not how he saw this night going. The only saving grace is that Liv is pretty much alright. Banged up but okay.

With voice control, he tells Siri to make the call. “Elliot, hey,” he says when the phone clicks, quick and succinct. “Listen, Liv’s gonna be okay, but I got a call that she’s in route to the hospital. She sustained some minor injuries that they want to take a better look at. I’ll airdrop the address and meet you there.”

“ Jesus. I’m on my way,” Elliot responds, choked and rumbling into the receiver, both relieved and scared shitless. “Did they say how bad?”

“Minor head wound and an injured limb. EMT’s said she was awake and fairly lucid. A little confused but that could be from the head injury. The airbag took the brunt of it, sounds like. They’ll know more at the hospital.” He grips the phone tighter, eyebrows furrowing. “Drive safe, okay, man? Wrapping your car around a tree won’t help her.”

“I hear you,” Elliot murmurs roughly, the background noise suggesting he’s in his SUV too.

Fin hopes desperately that Elliot will be able to make it to the hospital in once piece and shit, he can’t even imagine how triggering this must be for him. If this is coordinated by Wheatley, he has a wicked sense of humor for using a car as his weapon of choice. Twice.

He prays this won’t be the thing that pushes Elliot over the edge.

…

Fin finds Elliot pacing the ER waiting area when he comes back from talking to the attending doctor in charge of Liv.

Elliot moves swiftly to meet him, hands unclenching and clenching at his sides. The new facial twitch is going haywire and his eyes are a little wild and bloodshot. It’s obvious he’s not doing so well. Fin doesn't blame him.

“Just spoke with Liv's doctor. No concussion. They can’t tell if the ankle is broken or just badly sprained. In typical fashion, our girl is refusing an MRI so they can’t be sure on the amount of damage. She wants to sign herself out.” Fin shakes his head in disbelief.

Elliot sucks in a sharp breath and his nostrils flare. “Damn it, Liv,” he mutters, raising a hand to his neck and rubbing irritably. “Can I see her? Maybe I can talk some sense into her.” It’s the poorly concealed desperation that nearly undoes Fin. The way Elliot's blue eyes shine.

“Have at it, but you know how she is when her mind is made up. She wants to head to the courthouse asap. McGrath’s been breathing down her neck over this case with the congressman. It’s really been taking a toll on her, the way she’s been trying to carry it,” Fin says, knowing how important it is that Elliot have this information, especially if Liv isn’t feeling up to sharing it with him.

Elliot nods brusquely and Fin can see the cogs already turning in his head. Probably thinking of all the ways that he can persuade her not to push herself too far. To let him take care of her.

“Thanks, Fin.” There’s so much behind the sentiment and nothing else needs to be said. Maybe Fin could ream Elliot for not being around when she needed him in the past, but he’s here now, looking for all the world like he can’t take much more. So, Fin decides to let it be, knowing Liv will give him hell when she’s good and ready.

“You go be with her. I’m gonna head to the scene and make sure they’re not screwing anything up,” Fin says.

Elliot’s eyes narrow and a muscle in his jaw ticks. “Keep me in the loop?”

Fin claps him on the shoulder as he passes by him to the sliding glass doors. “You know I will.”

“Good,” Elliot sniffs and glances away. He knows exactly the son of a bitch responsible for this and he plans on making him pay. That they can both agree on.

Both men go their separate ways.

…to be continued…

Chapter Text

Elliot finds her propped partially upright in the hospital bed, head back and eyes shut, but obviously awake judging by the tenseness of her shoulders and the wrinkle between her eyebrows. He can she’s in pain and trying to push through it even when there’s no one around to see it. As if anyone would think her weak for simply being human. He certainly doesn’t.

His knuckles rap gently against the cracked open door and then he’s stepping through just as her eyes flutter. “Hey,” he says gruffly and has to swallow the sudden lump in his throat.

For a while there, he thought the worst and now she’s in front of him, well and whole for the most part and shit, it’s making him even more of a wreck if that’s possible. There’s a goose egg on her head and her injured foot is propped up on a mound of pillows with an ice pack, and he doesn’t want to think about the ache she must feel in her chest from the seatbelt. The bruises that will surely form. Splotches of purple and black. A dark and angry map.

All he can think is thank God she’s okay. He doesn’t know what he’d do if she wasn’t.

“Elliot, what are you doing here?” Liv breathes out and it’s a jolt up his spine. Him wanting – no needing to check on her shouldn’t have come as a shock. Ever.

He can feel the tremble in his body, the twitch of his fingers that want nothing more than to reach for her. Hold her. Cradle her against his chest and never let her go again. And not think about how he could have lost her in almost the exact same way he lost Kathy. It’s enough to ignite his nervous tick to frightening heights. The nightmares will linger and shift and morph into a brand new monster, and he isn’t ready for that. His sanity can only take so much battering.

Losing her would be a fathomless pit he would never crawl out of. That is one thing he's sure of entirely.

“We were on the phone when you had the accident. You don’t remember?” And maybe what he’s really wondering is if she recalls how she was over an hour late to her meeting at the courthouse because they’d been together. Alone. Dancing. Neither of them wanting it to end, not wanting to leave each other’s presence.

He can still hear her rich, warm voice flowing over him like honey.

I didn’t know you could dance like this. She’d ribbed him, her smirk, making his own appear. He spun her around, and she laughed that full belly laugh that made his insides flutter.

His teasing response. You can always step on my feet if you can’t keep up. The way his hands tugged her closer and the way she came willingly. Fitting into his embrace perfectly.

The way she’d softened and pressed her cheek against the side of his head, a tender nudge that took him back to another lifetime. Her answer a distracting breathy caress across his skin. You lead and I’ll follow. Like it was that easy. And maybe it is. A dance they’d been doing for years, perfecting the old moves and learning new ones too. Taking it slow but never forgetting to always keep turning and never let go.

Liv’s eyebrows scrunch, and her voice brings him back. “I remember, everything’s just a little fuzzy.” She admits. “How’d you know to come here?”

“After our call went dead, I called Fin, asked him to ping your location and send a bus to you,” he says, drawing close but careful not to invade her personal space. “I – uh didn't know – I wanted to make sure you were okay.” More than anything. How does he explain to her when he barely understands how feels himself?

If he’d been in the proper frame of mind maybe he could have located her iPhone and called dispatch himself, but he’d been addled. His thoughts a scattered mess, gruesome images flooding and pushing out everything else. He’d been on the verge of a panic attack since the phone had gone dead. He doesn’t want anyone to know how much it had truly rattled him. The helplessness a grotesque reflection of how he’d felt seeing the car Kathy had been standing next to, completely engulfed in flames. Her body a broken doll on the unforgiving pavement. How he'd prayed a thousand times over for Liv to not meet the same fate.

His facial expression shudders and suddenly, he can’t not touch her, and his hand is reaching and clutching at hers like a lifeline. “And I am. Really, really glad you’re okay.” She doesn’t balk at the intensity of his words, his eyes, or all the things that are still going unsaid.

Liv simply tightens her hold on his hand and pulls at him until his legs bump up against the side of the bed. And then he’s looking down at her and she’s looking up at him. Heat and wetness pricks at the corner of his eyes and Jesus, she’s going to make him cry.

Elliot clears his throat, sucks in a sharp breath, and presses his lips together like the two of them weren’t just sharing a damn moment. By her gentle smirk, he knows she knows that he’s at his emotional brink. He doesn’t step away or loosen his hold though. “Fin is securing the scene. I’ll get my team working on finding out who hit you,” he says, his voice like crunching gravel.

She tilts her head up, arches an eyebrow. “You take that up with Bell already? Not exactly organized crime related.” He hears what she doesn’t voice. It’s not his call to make. He should be careful to know his place and not overstep. He's on thin ice with the higher ups already.

The vein in his neck pulses when he clenches his jaw and the rage swirling beneath the surface is an old friend. “When it involves Wheatley, it is.”

“You think he did this from inside a max-security prison? Seems like a lot of trouble.” For her is what she must mean.

His hip settles on the edge of her bed and he shakes his head. “He’ll do whatever he can to get to me.” He swallows hard, glances away. “Wheatley’s made it clear that he’s not done going after the people closest to me.” That includes you.

Her body stiffens. “El, your kids –”

“My kids are safe,” he assures her quickly. “It’s you he seems fixated on. He found out how close we were. How long we worked together. I don’t really know what all he knows or thinks he’s figured out, but I’m sure it’s nothing good.”

“So, I’m a target now?” she wonders quietly, and he can’t place her tone. Does it upset her? Is she surprised? Angry? He wonders when she became so good at hiding her feelings from him. And if there's a way he can attempt to remedy that now.

“There was no direct threat, and he didn’t mention you by name or anything,” he says truthfully because what else can he say that won’t royally fuck everything up.

“There were some heavy implications that I didn’t care for,” Elliot settles on. Like maybe he isn’t holding those precious cards as close to the vest as he thought. He tightens his grip on her hand and tugs enough to know he has her full attention. “I know you don’t need me to say it, but please be careful.”

She could fight him on this. Remind him of the ten years she didn’t have him there to say those words. The countless moments that she’d maybe needed him, and he hadn’t been there. She could tell him to leave, and he’d deserve it, but she doesn’t. Liv squeezes his hand back and nods as much as her head injury will allow. “I know, El.” It’s gentle, the way she says it almost like she can read the sticker that must be plastered across his chest. Fragile: handle with care.

After an agonizing minute, she glances away toward the still ajar door.

“I need to get out of here. Check on Noah. Call Carisi and see how much damage control I’m gonna have to do after missing that meeting,” she says, already moving like she might climb out of the bed at that precise moment. Her hand reluctantly pulls free of his, and he gets off the edge of the bed but stays at her side.

“What about your ankle?” Elliot asks, eyeing the limb in question.

She shrugs off his concern. “A sprain most likely. Nothing some Advil, ice, and rest won’t fix. I’ll be fine.” The idea that she’ll actually take the time to rest is almost laughable.

He can’t stop the frown from crossing his face. “Fin said the doctors wanted to do an MRI, but you refused,” he says carefully. “That you’ll be signing yourself out AMA.” Elliot knows that a decade apart hasn’t changed the fact that the more she’s pushed, the more she resists to be moved. Her inability to let anyone take care of her still very present in the determined lines of her face. Not when she’s gotten so good at doing it herself all her life. He has no right to question her on it now. He knows that. But still.

“I didn’t see the need. The pain isn’t too bad, and I can still walk on it. I don’t have a concussion or any other injuries. There’s no reason for me to stay here longer than necessary.” The argument sounds logical, but he knows how stubborn she can be. How she likes to downplay how she’s really feeling. If it’s something truly serious, he doesn’t want her brushing it off.

“Okay, but Liv, if that changes, if you feel worse, please tell someone. There’s no reason for you to be suffering in silence.” It’s probably the closest he’s come to pleading with her, and she must see it in his demeanor. How very close he came to losing his shit today.

“Fine,” Liv agrees, but it doesn’t sound mean. She’s humoring him and he’s grateful.

“I’ll grab a nurse so you can sign out,” he tells her.

She looks like she wants to say something more and he hesitates in turning away. Her mouth opens and closes and her fingers fiddle with the sheet at her waist. Her eyebrows draw together, and she bites her lip. “Elliot?”

“Hm?”

Liv takes a breath, looking uncertain. “Thanks.”

He can tell that isn’t originally what she’d planned to say, but he lets it go, trying not to decipher the sudden rather perplexed expression on her face. He wants to tell her that there’s no reason to thank him. Of course, he’d be there for her. For better or worse. But he knows instinctively that’d be completely the wrong thing to say to her now. It’s been too long and the last thing he wants to do is cause her more hurt.

So, he only nods and murmurs, “sure thing.” She smiles at him. It’s a small fleeting upward tilt of her mouth and it makes the sudden awkward pause less obvious.

He tries not to think about how he could have very easily never saw that smile again if tonight had gone any differently. Shaking himself clear of those violent thoughts, knowing they will lead him down a path nowhere good, he makes himself turn away.

Elliot takes one last look at her and thinks that love can be a dangerous thing. Maybe the most dangerous thing. But he’s always been known to be more than a little reckless.

end