Archive of Our Own

The bathroom was a mess. 

She’d already answered all the questions she was asked, and now she could only stare, unable to move. It was as if her brain couldn’t process what had happened. She watched CSU working, and if it were a usual case she’d do something, except it wasn’t, and so she stared. And it seemed that the only thing she was aware of was the blood.

There was so much blood. 

Sonya’s blood. 

And the metallic smell of it filled all her senses. 

Her hand flew to her stomach.

The nausea had been lingering there for some time, sitting low and heavy inside her abdomen, but at that moment it surged upward with startling intensity. It rolled through her in waves, hot and suffocating, twisting her stomach so violently she thought she might collapse right there in the middle of the room. 

She pressed her palm harder against herself, trying to contain it, as though she could somehow hold the grief inside her body if she applied enough pressure.

The effort was useless, and it only made her chest feel impossibly tight.

Every breath seemed to stop halfway before reaching and filling her lungs. She tried inhaling slowly but the air still caught. She tried again, and achieved nothing except a sharp ache beneath her ribs. It felt as though there was an elastic band wrapped around her chest and was pulling tighter with every passing second, squeezing until there was no room left for air. 

Sonya was dead.

The words repeated endlessly in her head.

Dead.

She stared at the blood and the body — Sonya — on the floor. She still felt the desperate rush to reach her. The frantic hope that there was still time. The feeling of blood on her hands. Her last words. Every memory crashed together at once, overlapping causing a fresh wave of nausea to hit.

She turned sharply toward the nearest sink. Her hands gripped the edge so hard her knuckles immediately whitened. For several seconds she could do nothing except bow her head and fight to stay upright. Her breathing had become shallow and uneven, and the room felt too hot — she needed to get out. 

In the next second or two her hand was grabbing the knob of the door, and as she stepped out, the air in the hallway offered very little relief. She felt detached from all of it. As though she were watching the scene through thick glass. She felt she was trembling, the unpleasant feeling running through her arms and shoulders and legs.

She lowered her eyes to the floor as she walked. Until something made her look up, and there she saw him. 

Elliot.

Standing on the other end of the hallway. He looked exhausted and concerned, like he’d gotten there as quickly as humanly possible. And the second her eyes met his, the fragile control she’d been clinging to slipped. She saw the recognition cross his face immediately. Saw him take in the tears she hadn’t managed to stop. His expression changed immediately and he was already half-running towards her. She was doing practically the same, unable to endure the physical distance between them. 

“I'm really glad you’re back”

One second she was walking and the next she was against him, her hands clutching at the back of his coat as though she needed something solid to keep herself upright.

The scent of him reached her before his arms ever did. It wrapped around her with familiarity, warm and unmistakable, the same faint, clean scent of the 3-in-1 body wash he’d stubbornly used for years. She’d teased him about it more than once, but now understood she’d never want him to change it. Because it smelled like him. Like safety.

The impact of his body knocked the breath from her lungs, and she felt the way his arms came around her immediately. Firm and certain. One arm wrapped across her shoulders while the other settled against her back, pulling her fully into the shelter of his embrace. 

The moment he tightened his grip, something inside her finally broke. Her eyes squeezed shut and a small, wounded sound escaped her before she could stop it. Grief was finding a crack and forcing its way through. Her face pressed into the curve of his shoulder and her fingers twisted tighter in the fabric.

“I should’ve come back sooner.”

She could feel herself trembling and Elliot felt it too — she knew he did because his hold tightened and hand spread across her back.

Grounding.

His breathing was heavier than usual. She could feel it where they were pressed together. The expansion of his chest and the effort it was taking him to remain in control of his breathing. The fabric of his coat was warm beneath her cheek and she could hear the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat. 

The hollow feeling sat inside her like a physical thing — heavy and painful. Sonya was dead and no matter how many times her mind repeated the words, they still refused to feel real.

Eventually Olivia forced herself to pull back. The movement was reluctant but her hands loosened their grip on his coat and she took a small step backward. Immediately the loss of his warmth felt noticeable and she lowered her eyes.

“I’m fine.”

The lie sounded weak even to her own ears and Elliot didn’t answer right away. But when she looked up, she found him studying her face, then her shoulders and the trembling she clearly wasn’t hiding successfully.

“Yeah?” His voice was gentle as his gaze moved over her, taking in every detail she hadn’t even noticed herself. “Like hell you are.”

Her throat tightened as tears burned behind her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to force them back but it didn’t work.

“Liv.”

His expression changed instantly as he said her name and she followed his gaze. For a second she didn’t understand what he was looking at, until she saw her hands.

Blood.

There was dried blood across her fingers and along the side of her palm. It was Sonya’s, and the sight hit her like a punch and her stomach once again lurched violently — the nausea she’d been fighting surged back to life.

She froze, but then the trembling in her hands became even more visible. She was staring at her hands as if they weren’t hers. For one second she looked less like a detective and more like someone who was completely lost, disoriented and exhausted.

Elliot’s face softened, though it still had concern written over it. “C’mon.”

His hand settled lightly against her elbow, guiding her rather than pulling, and she didn’t argue even though she barely registered where they were going. Everything seemed to require more effort than she could manage, so she simply followed, allowing Elliot to lead.

The bathroom they entered was empty, and Elliot immediately guided her toward the sink.

For a moment she simply stood there staring, her hands hanging uselessly at her sides — shaking. Elliot stepped forward and turned on the faucet, causing the water to rush into the basin. The sound filled the silence between them and only then did she realize what he was doing. She watched numbly as he reached for her hand and guided them beneath the stream of warm water.

Everything felt fuzzy, but Elliot’s hands — they felt real.

His fingers wrapped carefully around hers, steadying them when another tremor passed through her. He wasn’t scrubbing or rushing, instead, his touch was patient and gentle. The pad of his thumb slid across her knuckles, washing away a dark stain caught in the creases of her skin. 

The warmth of the water soaked through cold fingers while he turned her hand over gently letting his fingers slide across her palm. The simple contact sent an unexpected ache through her chest —  because she couldn’t remember when somebody touched her like this. Not with urgency or desire, but pure care.

The realization caught her off guard. Because it was such a small and ordinary thing, and yet, it felt strangely intimate. Maybe it was because she knew those hands, because she knew the man to whom they belonged. She knew how gentle and affectionate they could be, in every sense of those words. 

The memory arrived before she could stop it.

A night, two months ago, that had started with grief and exhaustion but ended with every wall she’d spent years constructing finally giving way.

Calvin had been gone, the apartment had felt cold and empty and her inner state was no different. Elliot had come because he always came when she needed him, because neither of them knew how not to show up for the other. He was there purely to offer a shoulder to lean on. Someone sitting beside her in the silence.

But somehow, something had changed that night — or maybe it hadn’t changed, maybe something had simply stopped hiding.

Because ever since Kathy and he divorced four years ago, it had become impossible to ignore. Neither of them crossed the line completely, because every time one stepped forward, the other stepped back. Every time the tension became too obvious, they buried it beneath work and excuses. They never discussed or acknowledged it. But they both knew. They knew the truth that existed between them, long before either was brave enough to touch it.

And that night, two months ago, the weight of it became too much. It was inevitable. Because after twelve years of being each other’s partner, each other’s safe place, each other’s constant, it was inevitable that there would come a point of things boiling over. 

They had crossed every possible line neither of them could uncross, and instead of letting herself explore what that meant, she retreated. She told herself it was a one night thing, that it had happened because she was grieving, because emotions had gotten the better of them. It was not that she regretted that night — she didn’t —  because it was everything she yearned for for so many years. But she insisted they couldn’t risk destroying the partnership that had survived twelve years. 

And after that, they didn’t know how to move forward. Or rather, she didn’t. Elliot had reached a certainty that both comforted and terrified her. He was done pretending there wasn’t something real between them, done taking cautious steps. Even to the point that if choosing her meant requesting a transfer, leaving behind the partnership that had defined so much of his life, he would do it. 

He wanted a future that wasn’t hidden in stolen moments and almosts. He wanted mornings, ordinary days, coming home to each other after the job. He wanted all of it with her. And she knew that. She could see it every time he looked at her. But she had spent her entire life waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every good thing she had ever loved seemed to come with an expiration date, every happiness eventually followed by loss. 

It wasn’t that she doubted him — she doubted fate. She doubted that someone like her got to keep the things she wanted most. 

So while Elliot was ready to stop running, Olivia remained caught between longing and fear, wondering how badly it would hurt when everything they had disappeared.

But, despite the fear, as his hands moved so gently over hers, she found herself remembering the moment he showed her that same devotion and affection. 

She would be lying if she didn’t admit how often she thought about that night. About the passion and hunger they had due to all the years of buried longing. But also about how he poured affection into every touch, every lingering embrace, every quiet reassurance whispered against her skin. He had made her feel cared for in a way that went beyond physical attraction. He showered her with all the love he had in him before making her feel drunk from pleasure. 

And now, with everything shifting beneath her feet, with the brutal reminder that life could change in a single moment, she found herself questioning the fears she had clung to for so long. 

She had spent years convincing herself that wanting something wasn’t reason enough to reach for it, that hope was dangerous, that happiness was always temporary. But standing there beside him, feeling his reassuring presence, she wondered if she was simply tired. Tired of bracing for loss before it had even arrived. Tired of letting fear make decisions her heart never agreed with. 

Because for all the uncertainty that filled her life, for all the things she couldn’t predict or control, there was one truth she could no longer ignore: she loved him. And maybe that love was worth more than every worst-case scenario her mind could invent. 

Maybe her heart was finally exhausted from being overruled, from being told to let go of something beautiful simply because it might not last forever. 

For the first time, she found herself wondering if the real risk wasn’t loving him, but spending the rest of her life pretending she didn’t want everything he was offering her.

His thumb brushed lightly along the side of her hand, washing away another stubborn smear. The warmth of the water combined with the warmth of his skin until she could no longer tell where one ended and the other began. 

When the last trace of blood finally disappeared, he reached forward and turned off the faucet. Then he grabbed a paper towel and patted away the moisture from her skin, drying each finger, each knuckle. After he was done, he took the other hand and repeated the process.

He knew perfectly well that Olivia could have done this herself. She had spent her entire life doing things herself and for that, she was probably the strongest person he had ever known. If he had simply handed her a paper towel, she would have cleaned her own hands. But that wasn’t the point. 

Because he wanted to give her all of it. Every bit of comfort, every bit of care, every piece of himself he had spent years holding back. 

He knew she told him that she wasn’t ready, and he respected that. But that didn’t change how he felt. It didn’t lessen the certainty that settled in his chest every time he looked at her. And it didn’t change that she needed him right now. So if all she could accept right now was a hand on her back, a ride home, or drying her hands after a horrible event, then that would be enough. He would place everything he had at her feet and let her take whatever she wanted. 

He threw the paper towels in the trash and took a look at her. “Let’s get you home.”

But Olivia opened her mouth automatically. “No, I need—”

The sentence never finished and it looked like her knees weakened. She swayed, and immediately Elliot’s hands grabbed her. One arm coming around her waist while the other steadied her shoulder.

“Easy.”

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“I just—”

“Liv.” His voice was firm but still gentle.

She looked up.

“The only thing you need,” he said quietly, keeping one arm securely around her, “is to get home, lay down, maybe eat something and rest.”

For a moment she wanted to argue, wanted to insist she still had work to do — that she had to catch whoever killed Sonya. The protest rose but before the words could leave her mouth, her hand brushed absentmindedly across her stomach. The nausea that had been twisting her stomach all evening had slightly faded, replaced by a hollow ache she hadn’t noticed until now. Hunger. Her throat felt dry too, the kind of dryness that came from too many hours without water and too much adrenaline burning through her system. 

The realization caught her off guard. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten that day, or the last time she’d sat down. For hours she had been running on adrenaline, pushing her body forward without stopping to consider what it might need. 

She reminded herself that there were things beyond this night, beyond the endless cycle of loss and violence that had defined so much of her life.  She looked up at Elliot, and when saw the certainty in his eyes, she found she didn’t have the strength,  or perhaps the desire, to fight him on this. 

So instead of arguing, she simply nodded once and let him guide her toward the door.

By the time they reached her building, exhaustion had settled into every inch of her body. She fumbled slightly with her keys before finding the right one. The lock clicked open and she pushed the door inward.

The apartment greeted them with silence and she stepped inside first, dropping her purse onto the small table by the door before shrugging out of her coat. The heavy fabric slid from her shoulders and suddenly she felt colder than before. 

Elliot closed the door behind them and hung both coats on the rack, after which he moved further into the apartment. 

Olivia kicked off her shoes and made it as far as the couch. Her body was aching as the adrenaline wore off. Once she sat down, she simply sank onto the couch, her body finally surrendering to exhaustion. The soft fabric gave beneath her weight, she leaned back heavily and closed her eyes.

“Want something to drink?” Elliot’s voice broke the silence. “Something strong?”

“No. No, I think if I drink anything now, I’ll be sick all over again.” She didn’t even open her eyes but Elliot nodded.

“Maybe some coffee or tea then?”

Olivia managed a small nod. “Tea sounds good.”

The room fell quiet again, and a sudden shiver ran through her — sharp enough to make her shoulders tighten. She felt slightly cold, and another tremor followed. Then, the next thing she heard was movement beside her. When she opened her eyes Elliot was standing near the armchair, reaching for the blanket folded over the back.

And before she could say anything, he unfolded it and draped it carefully over her. The warmth settled around her instantly — soft and comforting. His hand lingered briefly on her shoulder after adjusting the blanket.

“You okay?”

“Mhm, just tired.” It was probably the most honest thing she’d said all night.

“You should lay down.”

“I’m fine like this.”

“You’ve been awake for almost twenty four hours, Liv.”

“I’ve done worse.”

“Yeah, that’s not the argument you think it is.”

Despite herself, she smiled. The blanket was warm, the couch soft. And suddenly the idea of laying down didn’t sound so bad. She watched him disappear into the kitchen as the sound of cupboards opening followed. Then running water.

The ordinary domestic noises should have felt strange, should have made her nervous — the way it did the morning after they spent the night together. But now — it soothed something inside her. She pulled the blanket a little tighter around herself and her eyes drifted closed again.

In the kitchen, Elliot busied himself with making tea. He filled the kettle and reached for the box of tea bags she always kept in the same cabinet. But his thoughts remained in the living room, on Olivia. They have been there a lot lately. 

Ever since two months ago, things between them had shifted in ways neither of them could undo. There was no awkwardness, if anything, being together felt more natural than he could have imagined. But beneath that ease, he could tell something was weighing on her. Especially this past two weeks. She’d been distracted, restless. Fidgeting during meetings. Losing her train of thought for a second before pulling herself back. He’d caught her staring off into space more than once, and every time she’d seemed almost startled when someone addressed her.

Around him, it was even more noticeable. There were moments when she looked like she wanted to tell him something, only to retreat behind a small smile or a quick change of subject. He knew better than to push — twelve years had taught him that much. She talked when she was ready and not a second sooner, while pressing her only made her dig her heels in deeper. 

Still, he worried. 

Not because he thought something was wrong, but because whatever she was carrying was weighing on her. And he asked himself, how much of that was because of what happened between them. 

The kettle began to hum softly on the stove and Elliot glanced toward the living room. Whatever was going on inside that head of hers, whatever fear or uncertainty she hadn’t found the words for yet, he would wait for her to bring it to him. He just hoped she knew she didn’t have to carry it by herself.

A few minutes later, he poured the hot water into a mug and carried it toward the living room.

The sight that greeted him made something in his chest soften immediately. Olivia had shifted further down into the couch as the blanket was wrapped tightly around her, cocooning her from shoulders to feet. Her eyes were closed, and for the first time all night some of the tension seemed to have left her face.

His gaze lingered for a moment before he noticed the way her arms were folded across her middle, her hands resting a little too tight against her beneath the blanket.

“Liv, you in pain?”

Olivia’s eyes opened immediately and for a second she looked disoriented, as though she’d forgotten where she was. 

“What?”

Her gaze followed his toward her hands.

“Oh. No, no.” Her hands moved to rub across the blanket. “My stomach’s just reminding me I haven’t eaten in...”

Elliot raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, I actually don’t know.”

“Shocking discovery.”

He handed her the tea, and she thanked him. 

“What do you want to eat?” He asked her. 

Her eyes drifted toward the ceiling, thinking. Then back to him. “Maybe some pasta.”

The answer surprised him. Usually she’d claim she wasn’t hungry and survive on crackers. But he was glad he wouldn’t have to argue with her for once. “Okay.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and while Olivia watched him over the rim of her tea mug, he ordered them food, then sat at the armchair and leaned back slightly, studying her for a moment.

“Tea helping?”

She took a small sip. “Yeah.”

The warmth of the mug felt good between her hands. She wrapped her fingers around it more tightly and sank further into the couch. For a few moments neither of them spoke. The apartment remained quiet except for the occasional sound of traffic outside and the soft hum of the heater.

She shifted beneath the blanket as her feet rubbed together, searching for warmth that didn’t seem to be there. The blanket helped, but she still couldn’t quite shake the chill that had settled into her bones.

“You cold?”

Olivia shook her head automatically. “It’s alright.”

“Mhm, sure.”

Before she could respond, he was already pushing himself to his feet.

“Elliot—”

He ignored her completely. “Your socks still in the top drawer?”

The question caught her off guard and for a second she just stared at him. “Yeah.” The answer came slowly. Partly because she was exhausted, partly because she was genuinely surprised he remembered.

Too tired to argue, she simply watched him disappear down the hallway. A minute later he returned carrying a thick pair of wool socks. She looked at them and then at him, expecting him to hand them over and tell her to put them on.

Instead Elliot crouched beside the couch and he pulled one of her feet from beneath the blanket. Before she could protest, he slipped the sock over her foot, over the existing sock. Adding another layer. More warmth and comfort.

Then he reached for the other foot. The whole thing should have felt ridiculous or a little embarrassing. Instead it made her chest ache. Something about watching this stubborn, infuriating man kneeling beside her couch after a bad night, focused entirely on making sure her feet weren’t cold.

His hands were warm against her ankle for a brief moment before he pulled away.

“There.”

Olivia looked down at her newly doubled socks and feet that didn’t feel cold at all anymore. Then at him. “Thank you.”

About forty-five minutes later, they sat across from each other at the coffee table, cartons and plates spread between them. Olivia hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she started eating. Now, each bite seemed to wake her body up a little more. The warmth of the pasta settled pleasantly in her stomach as the taste of gorgonzola filled her senses, grounding her in the present. 

For several minutes neither of them spoke much. Just ate. Until Olivia set her fork down. “In all the hurry, I forgot to ask. Did you check the security logs from Harding’s office?”

He looked up. “That’s why it took me so long to get there.”

He swallowed another bite before continuing. “I checked every male who signed in during the last six months.”

Olivia frowned slightly.

“One name rang a bell.”

“Whose?”

Elliot wiped his mouth with a napkin. “David Adams. But he doesn’t exist.”

Olivia blinked. “So who was the ghost there to see?”

“Alicia Harding’s assistant. Rachel Gray.”

Olivia stared at him.

“I already called Fin.”

Olivia immediately started shifting forward, ready to put the plate down and stand. “El, we need to—”

“Liv.”

The single word halted her making her look up.

“He is taking care of it. Said he’ll call with updates. Or if he needs help.”

She stared at him as she hated feeling helpless. And as if reading every thought crossing her face, Elliot leaned back slightly.

“You are in no shape right now.”

She gave him a dead stare. 

“You know what I mean Liv, you’ve been running on adrenaline for hours.”

She wanted to argue, and normally she would have — she would have insisted she was fine, insisted there was still work to do, anything to avoid acknowledging what her body had been trying to tell her for hours. But the truth was that she felt utterly drained. Even after eating, even after the warmth of the pasta had eased the hollow ache in her stomach, she still felt tired. 

It wasn’t just the case, although Sonya’s death weighed heavily on her chest. It was what she’d been carrying for weeks — it weighed heavier and heavier. Her thoughts felt sluggish, her limbs heavy, her heart begging for a moment where she let go and accepted the comfort. 

Because, for the first time in days, she didn’t feel like she was bracing for something. She was home. Not just inside the walls of her apartment, but home in the deeper sense — she was home because he was here. His presence filled the apartment in a way that made everything feel safer. And even more importantly, less lonely — because there was a lot of that feeling the past week. 

“C’mon,” Elliot said, pushing himself to his feet.

Olivia looked up, a small frown appearing between her brows. “What?”

“A hot shower.” He nodded toward the hallway. “I think it’ll do you good.”

Then he gestured toward the takeout containers, scattered across the coffee table. “In the meantime, I’ll deal with this.”

Before she could object, he extended a hand toward her and for a moment she simply stared at it. Under normal circumstances she probably would’ve rolled her eyes and told him to stop treating her like that, but tonight the fight just wasn’t there. The exhaustion sat too heavily inside her. 

With a quiet sigh, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her up. The movement made her realize just how tired she was — her shoulders sagged immediately, and standing on her legs felt like it required effort. 

“You can just leave it, you know,” she said. “I’ll clean it in the morning.”

He glanced at the table before looking back at her.

“Yeah… I don’t think I can sleep knowing all of that’s still sitting there.”

For a second she simply stared at him. “What?”

He shrugged as if this were the most reasonable thing he’d ever said and the disbelief on her face only deepened. “I’m staying here tonight.” The answer came with complete certainty. But, noticing the expression on her face, he quickly added, “On the couch.”

He wasn’t pushing for anything or expecting anything. He simply wasn’t leaving her alone after a night like this.

For a moment neither of them spoke and then Olivia looked away. The truth was she didn’t want him to leave. The apartment had felt too empty lately. And tonight, after everything that had happened, the thought of being alone felt strangely unbearable.

A small part of her wanted to ask him to stay somewhere other than the couch. Wanted to stop thinking about consequences and timing and all the reasons she kept holding herself back. Wanted to fall asleep and wake up beside him. Wanted, for once, to stop pretending she didn’t. But that would only complicate things, and they were already complicated enough.

So she swallowed the thought before it could become words. “Yeah,” she said softly. A small nod followed. “Okay.”

Something warm flickered across Elliot’s face — relief.

She gave him one last look before turning toward the hallway. Behind her, she could already hear him moving around the living room, gathering containers and stacking plates. She glanced over her shoulder before closing the bathroom door behind her. 

She found herself listening to those comforting sounds of him in her apartment, before reaching for the shower faucet.

Lying there in the darkness, even though drained, Olivia’s thoughts wouldn’t let her rest properly. She found herself wondering if she had been unfair to him. Actually, she wasn’t wondering, she knew she had been. 

For a long time she had kept Elliot at arm’s length whenever he got too close, and had taken a step back whenever he tried to step forward. Not because she didn’t want him there, but because letting him matter that deeply meant giving life another opportunity to hurt her. Yet through every hesitation and every wall she built, he had remained steady. 

Tonight had made it even more impossible to ignore. The way he had looked at her, taken care of her, understood what she needed before she could ask for it. He deserved more than the scraps she kept offering him. He deserved honesty and certainty. He deserved to be loved with the same intensity he gave her. And the truth was, she wanted that too. God, she wanted it, and maybe always had. 

The pull and desire had been living quietly inside her for years, buried beneath lines and fear, but ever since that night two months ago, it had become impossible to pretend otherwise. 

She had spent twelve years knowing Elliot as her partner, her best friend, the person who could read her silence. But that night had shown her the most vulnerable and intimate parts of him. And it made her want more. More moments like tonight, when he was only a few feet away and the apartment somehow felt safer because of it. 

She wanted to stop waiting for disaster or searching for reasons it wouldn’t work. Stop punishing both of them for losses that hadn’t happened. She wanted to surrender — not to fear, but to hope. 

Still, the other part of her, that one that still needed healing, stood under a dark cloud she couldn’t escape. It would creep of every thought, darkening even the moments that should have brought her comfort. Because for all there was to gain, there was just as much to lose. Maybe more. 

The possibility of a future with Elliot was no longer some distant fantasy she could lock away and pretend didn’t exist. It could be real now. It was so close she could touch it, feel it. And that made it terrifying because she wasn’t the only person involved in this. Every decision she made had consequences beyond herself. She couldn’t simply follow her heart without considering what it might mean for him. 

For them. 

And her uncertainty was becoming unbearable — it followed her everywhere, sat with her at work and kept her awake at night. Wrapped itself around every conversation she had with Elliot until she felt guilty for things she couldn’t say out loud. She was so tired of pretending everything was normal when her entire world felt as though it was shifting eneath her feet. Tired of carrying fears she couldn’t share with the one person she wanted to share everything with. 

The anxiety had become a constant companion, sitting low in her stomach and tightening around her chest whenever she allowed herself to think too far ahead. Sometimes she found herself wondering how much longer she could keep doing this, how much longer before the pressure finally became too much. Because there was no version of this where any of the things she carried stayed hidden forever. 

Eventually she would have to speak out. And after that there would be no taking it back. Everything would change. The thought alone made her heart race. What if it wasn’t what she imagined? What if the future she’d secretly begun allowing herself to want slipped through her fingers the moment she reached for it? What if she lost him? What if she lost everything? 

Her eyes closed against the darkness as another wave of unease settled over her. She felt trapped between two impossible choices — holding on and slowly suffocating beneath the weight of it, or letting go and risking the collapse she feared so much. 

Yet deep down she knew there wasn’t another way out. 

The walls she’d built were already cracking. Sooner or later everything would come crashing down around her. And lying there in the silence, she felt her body was too exhausted to continue this right now. The heaviness in her limbs returned first, then the familiar pull of sleep. And as exhaustion finally began to win, she surrendered to it, letting the darkness take her before her head truly did explode from thinking.

They were fragments.

The bathroom.

The smell hit her first — metallic.

Blood spread across the white tiles in impossible amounts, creeping into the grout lines and staining everything it touched.

Sonya was on the floor — pale and motionless.

Olivia dropped to her knees. “Sonya.” Blood coated her hands the moment she touched her.

“No, no, no…”

The words left her mouth automatically and she pressed harder. Tried to stop it, but the blood kept slipping through her fingers.

Then Sonya looked at her, and the bathroom was gone.

She was standing in a hallway, and she heard a distant sound — crying — it was becoming louder and louder and she moved into that direction. 

Fear twisted sharply in her chest and she started running, but the hallway stretched endlessly ahead of her.

Every time she thought she was getting closer, it grew longer. Her breath caught in her throat.

The floor beneath her shoes became slick.

She looked down.

Blood again. But this time fresh and bright. Her stomach dropped.

“No.”

She was in a hospital room. Everything was white — the walls, sheets, curtains that were moving gently despite the absence of any wind. The room looked empty at first, until she noticed the chair beside the bed.

A small blanket draped over it.

Pink and soft. The kind of blanket someone bought with hope. Relief flooded her chest and she stepped forward.

The blanket slipped from the chair and fell to the floor.

A red stain bloomed across the fabric. 

“No, no.”

The crying came once again, the sound tore through her chest. She reached for the blanket and the second her fingers touched it, the room seemed to twist around her.

She clutched the blanket, pulling it closer against her chest. “It’s okay.” Her voice trembled.

The crying continued but now it sounded weaker and further away.

“No.”

She tightened her hold, the pink fabric felt warm beneath her hands. Then wet.

She froze and looked down — it was covered in blood.

The floor seemed to disappear beneath her feet and the room twisted. Suddenly she wasn’t standing — she was falling.

“No!” The word left her lips again.

She jolted awake with a sharp breath. 

The first thing she felt was the dampness, and terror immediately seized her so completely that everything else disappeared. The nightmare was wrapped around her mind, the images refusing to loosen their grip — blood on the floor, blood on her hands, blood everywhere. 

She felt the ghost of someone's warm arms on her biceps. But her gaze dropped to her lap and a strangled sound escaped her throat as she threw the blankets away from her body with trembling hands. Her heart hammered violently against her ribs as she stared down at herself, her fingers immediately fumbling at the fabric of her pajama pants. 

She barely registered Elliot saying her name. Barely registered that he was sitting beside her. All she knew was that she had felt something wet and suddenly fear exploded to the surface at once. 

“No,” she whispered frantically, tears running freely down her face as her hands moved from her clothing to the sheets beneath her. 

“No, no, no…” She was searching desperately now, her eyes darting over the rumpled bedding, looking for something.  Her breathing had become ragged, almost frantic. Elliot was saying something, asking her what was wrong, trying to understand, but the words weren’t reaching her. 

She pushed at the sheets, her hands shaking so badly she could barely control them. 

“Liv, hey — talk to me.” His voice was closer now, more urgent. “What’s wrong?” 

She couldn’t answer. Her throat felt too tight. The panic and nightmare had swallowed every coherent thought. 

Elliot reached for her again as tears continued streaming down her face. “Liv, what are you looking for?”

“I can’t lose it,” she whispered. The words were barely audible, broken apart by uneven breaths and tears. Her eyes continued darting frantically across the mattress, searching the white sheets with her trembling hands. 

He leaned closer immediately, completely confused but also utterly scared. “Lose what?”

She didn’t answer, or maybe just didn’t hear him as she seemed completely trapped inside her own fear. “No…”

Her hands skimmed over the sheets again.

“Liv.” His voice sharpened with concern. “What are you talking about?”

Then the answer slipped out.

“The baby.” 

The words escaped her lips as naturally as breathing. Without thought, hesitation or any awareness of what she’d just said. Her paniced gaze remained fixed on the mattress.

For a second he simply stared at her. His mind stopped. “The —” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. Couldn’t process it.

Baby?

But Olivia cut him off before he could gather another thought. “The lights.” Her voice cracked. “Turn the light on.”

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “The lights, Elliot.”

His heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears.

Baby?

Light?

He was wondering what the hell was happening.  But her fear was so raw, so absolute, that instinct took over. Without another question he pushed himself off the bed and crossed the room in two quick strides. The light flooded the bedroom and Olivia brushed her hand over the sheets behind her while she was still shaking and crying. 

Elliot followed her gaze.

The mattress.

The sheets.

Her pajama pants.

But there was nothing — nothing except rumpled white sheets.

For a moment he just stared before he looked back at her, and the panic on her face was devastating — pure terror and heartbreak. 

“Liv…” The name left him in a slow breath.

And suddenly she went still. The nightmare was finally beginning to release its hold. The dampness, the wet fabric she felt — the one that terrified her — it was sweat. Reality came crashing back all at once. 

The bedroom. The light. Elliot. And the words she’d said.

The baby.

Her stomach dropped.

Oh God.

She had said it out loud and whatever strength had been holding her upright gave out — a sob broke free from her chest and her vision blurred completely. Then, before she could think, before she could apologize or explain or run, strong arms wrapped around her.

Elliot pulled her against him and she went willingly, burying her face against the curve of his neck. The familiar scent of him surrounded her instantly. His hand slid up and down her back in slow, steady motions.

“It’s okay.” His voice was soft against her hair. “I’ve got you.”

Another sob shook her shoulders. His lips pressed against the crown of her head. “Everything’s okay.” 

For several minutes neither of them spoke. The only sound in the room was her crying and his quiet reassurances whispered against her hair as his hands continued to softly and comfortingly move over her back. 

Gradually her breathing slowed, the panic loosened its grip and the nightmare faded a little. With that, she managed to pull back. Her eyes were red and her cheeks wet and she immediately wiped at them, unable to meet his gaze.

Meanwhile, he simply looked at her, trying to understand. Trying to fit together the pieces of what had just happened.

“Liv.”

She lowered her eyes further.

“Liv.”

When she still didn’t look up, he reached for her hand. His fingers wrapped gently around it. “Please.” His voice was quiet now. “Look at me.”

Slowly she did and the look in her eyes nearly broke his heart. She looked guilty. Ashamed. Like a child waiting to be punished for something she couldn’t take back. And suddenly Elliot wasn’t sure what hurt more, the panic he’d just witnessed or the fact that she seemed to expect something terrible from him now.

“Does it hurt anywhere?” His concern was immediate. Because none of this made much sense to him, except what she was obviously panicking about. 

She frowned slightly. “What?”

“Are you in pain? Do you wanna go to the hospital?” His eyes searched her face before dropping briefly to where she’d been frantically searching the sheets moments earlier.

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine… It was just a nightmare,” she whispered. Her voice sounded raw. “I…” She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing. “I thought I was bleeding.”

The confession came out small, fragile and terrified, making Elliot move closer on instinct. “It’s okay.” One hand settled gently on her arm. “There’s nothing there.” And then his eyes dropped for a second — to where her hand had unconsciously settled against her lower stomach.

His breath caught.

The baby.

The words echoed through his mind again, clear for the first time. But before he could dissect every thought rushing through his mind, she spoke. 

“I wanted to tell you, I swear I did.” The words tumbled out of her before she could stop them, her voice and body still shaking. 

“I just —“ She wiped at another tear, but it was immediately replaced by another. “Things are complicated and we — I don’t even know what we are and I truly, truly didn’t plan this.” 

Her voice broke.

“I’m sorry —,” a dry sob escaped her. 

Then he reached for her hands. Wrapped both of them inside his own and gave them a gentle squeeze. There was a moment of silence while both of them tried to calm their heart rate. Their eyes focus on the joined hands resting in her lap. 

His heartbeat pounded against his ribs as the last two weeks replayed itself in rapid succession. The coffee she’d barely touched. The nausea she’d tried to brush off. How distracted she’d been. The nervous glances she’d thought he hadn’t noticed. The way she’d pulled away every time it seemed like she was on the verge of saying something, only to change the subject at the last second.

She’d known… and she didn’t tell him, she carried it by herself.

Why?

He wasn’t angry, he understood her fear of the whole situation. Still, he was human and what settled in his chest was a quiet, aching hurt. “How long do you know?” He asked without accusation in a calm voice. 

“I found out two weeks ago.” She spoke, her voice was small, maybe even embarrassed. “And I really did plan on telling you. You have to believe me.”

He gave her hands another gentle squeeze.  “I do, Liv. I do.” 

Something in her face softened then — enough that he knew she believed him. But it only lasted a few seconds before her expression changed all of a sudden, her brow furrowed and one hand moved instinctively toward her stomach.

“Liv?”

She swallowed hard and the color drained from her face. The nausea hit like a wave and her hand flew over her mouth. She shot to her feet so fast the mattress dipped beneath her. She was already moving — half-running toward the bathroom, and he followed without hesitation. By the time he reached the doorway, she was on her knees in front of the toilet.

He settled beside her without a second thought, one hand gathering her hair away from her face while the other moved slowly up and down her back in steady circles. 

Every time another wave of nausea overtook her, his hand remained exactly where it was, grounding her through it. “Easy,” he murmured quietly, the words meant more to soothe than instruct. “I’ve got you.” 

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut as another miserable wave passed through her, and immediately she felt his hand shift slightly higher between her shoulders, firm and reassuring. “Just breathe, Liv.” 

The embarrassment that usually would’ve consumed her barely had room to exist beneath the exhaustion. And even after there was nothing left, her body still fought against itself. Her shoulders remained tense, tightening every few moments as if another wave was coming, her stomach twisting and cramping despite being empty. 

She knew this wasn’t just the pregnancy anymore. It was the panic. The secret she’d carried for two weeks. The fear that had been eating away at her day and night. Her body seemed unable to distinguish between physical sickness and emotional overload — responding to both the only way it knew how. 

Beside her, Elliot stayed exactly where he was on the cold bathroom floor. Occasionally his thumb brushed lightly against her shoulder when he felt her trembling. 

As another wave finally eased, she leaned back slightly, exhausted, and felt his hand remain there for a moment longer, making sure she was truly through the worst of it before letting her go. “You’re okay,” he said gently. 

The words were ridiculous considering she felt awful, yet somehow hearing them made her chest ache, because she wasn’t alone in this for a moment. 

He helped her up and to the bathroom sink to wash her face. After that, he motioned towards the door and led her back into the bedroom. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you to the hospital?” He asked as she sat on the bed. 

Olivia sighed. “I’m sure Elliot, it’s just pregnancy sickness. I’m okay.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, clearly unconvinced. “It’s just… you went through something stressful, and fifteen minutes ago you were in complete panic, maybe —”

“It was a nightmare. I got scared, that’s all.” She cut him off and the explanation did very little to reassure him. But Olivia looked exhausted enough that he decided not to push.

“And you are sure nothing hurts?”

She looked at him. “No, I would tell you if it did, okay?”

“Okay.” He didn’t sound convinced. “I’ll get you some water.”

Before she could say anything, he pushed himself off the bed and disappeared down the hallway. The apartment was quiet for the minute he was gone. When he returned, there was a glass of water in his hand, and she was still sitting exactly where he’d left her. He handed her the glass and watched as she drank nearly all of it in one go. When she was done, he took it and placed it on the nightstand. 

He sat beside her on the bed, their legs touching, and silence wrapped around them for a few minutes — both trying to think what to say next. 

Her hands were in her lap and within seconds her fingers started moving. Twisting together. Picking at one another. He saw it with the corner of his eyes and reached over, gently covering her hands with one of his own. The movement immediately stilled them — her fingers froze beneath his palm.

Slowly his thumb brushed across her knuckles. His gaze followed their hands as his fingertips moved over her palm before intertwining their fingers. He raised his gaze to her side and she turned her head — deep brown eyes looking into bright blue. 

“You are not alone in this,” he whispered. 

Olivia felt her throat tighten and she looked away, unable to withstand the intensity of his gaze for very long.

For a moment he thought she might pull her hand away. Thought she might retreat again, but instead, she shifted closer, until her head came to rest against his shoulder. She closed her eyes, allowing herself that moment. Allowing herself to take something he was offering. 

They sat like that for some time and he thought she might have fallen asleep, but she finally spoke. 

“I have a doctor's appointment this Saturday. If you want to…” she wasn’t sure whether to finish that sentence, because she didn’t even know what he thought about all of this. 

God, she really got pregnant from a one night thing they had. They weren’t even together and she kept pushing him away all this time, even though she wanted all he was offering. And he already had four grown kids he loved. He had already done the midnight feedings, the sleepless nights, the school plays and scraped knees. He had already raised a family. How could she ask him to start over? How could she place something this enormous in his hands after spending the last two months convincing him they needed distance?

“I’d love to come,” he said in a calm voice, and didn't give any of her doubts much space. And it calmed her nerves a bit, but there was still so much to talk about, to discuss, resolve and it all felt too overwhelming on top of her body being exhausted from the case. 

What bothered her the most was the fact that he was so calm and patient, when normally he was impulsive and vocal about his opinions. This gave her absolutely no clue in what he felt or thought honestly in the moment. 

“Say something.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Elliot was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to where their fingers were still intertwined. His thumb moved across the back of her hand as he searched for the right words, but the truth was he wasn’t sure there were any. 

Not because he didn’t know what he felt. If anything, that was the one thing he was certain about. He had been certain about it for a long time. The problem was that Olivia already knew — she knew because he’d told her. He’d told her when he’d stood in her apartment and admitted how he felt about her. 

Nothing about tonight changed any of that — if anything, it only intensified it. The idea of a future with her, something he’d spent years trying not to want too openly, suddenly felt tangible in a way that scared him. A child didn’t make him want less, didn’t make him hesitate or reconsider. It made him want all of it more. Her. Them. The child — their child. The life he’d quietly imagined and then pushed away because it felt impossible. 

And what unsettled him wasn’t the possibility of becoming a father again. It was the realization that she had been keeping this from him, carrying it alone. 

He understood why, better than anyone, perhaps. He knew how her mind worked. Knew that when she was frightened, her instinct wasn’t to reach for someone — it was to avoid. She had done it for years. She’d done it with relationships, with her childhood, with every wound she’d ever carried.

But knowing why didn’t make it hurt any less. For a brief moment, he felt the sting of it — that quiet ache of being kept outside a door he would have walked through without hesitation. But looking at her now, wrapped in a blanket, exhausted beyond words, her eyes still swollen from crying, he couldn’t bring himself to dwell too on his own hurt. There would be time for difficult conversations. Time to ask why she’d been so afraid. 

Tonight wasn’t about that.

So instead of getting too caught up in his hurt and feeling, he swallowed it all back. Because the last thing he wanted was to see her retreat behind those walls she’d spent years building between them. He’d watched her do it before, and tonight, of all nights, he couldn’t bear the thought of her doing it again. 

So when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet and careful. “I don’t know what to say, Liv. Not because I don’t have anything to say. It’s just…” He paused, exhaling slowly. “You already know what I want and feel. And none of this changes that. But, I’m trying really hard not to make tonight about what I want.” 

His eyes lifted to hers then, honest and vulnerable in a way she didn’t often see from him. “Because right now, I think you’re scared, overwhelmed and exhausted. So all the questions and discussions can wait because the only thing I’m worried about now is making sure you know you’re not carrying any of this alone.”

Olivia felt something tighten painfully inside her chest at his words. Her heart had been racing for most of the night, but now it seemed to find a completely different rhythm, one that made her pulse flutter beneath her skin and her stomach twist with something that had nothing to do with nausea. She stared at him, unable to look away, and for a moment all the noise in her head seemed to disappear. 

She didn’t know if it was the exhaustion, the emotional whiplash of the evening, the hormones, or simply Elliot being Elliot. Maybe it was all of it. Maybe it was the fact that after weeks of repressing everything she wanted and felt, pushing him away, he was still here. Sitting beside her. Holding her hand. Looking at her like nothing had changed except that now he wanted to protect her even more. 

The realization overwhelmed her. Before she could think herself out of it, before fear could interfere the way it always did, she moved. One hand came up to his jaw and she crashed her lips against his. 

The kiss was desperate at first, born from relief and feelings she had spent too long holding back. Elliot made a small sound of surprise but kissed her back almost immediately, his free hand finding her cheek as she leaned closer. It wasn’t careful or thought out. It was everything they hadn’t said to each other packed into a single moment. 

She could feel her heart hammering as she kissed him, could feel herself sinking into the familiarity of him, into the safety she’d tried to deny she wanted. For a few seconds the world narrowed down to nothing except his lips and the hand still holding hers and the warmth of him sitting impossibly close. 

Then Elliot gently pulled back. One hand came up between them and he rested his forehead briefly against hers as he created a few inches of distance. His breathing was uneven. His eyes were still closed for a second before he opened them and looked at her. 

There was so much affection there it almost hurt to see. “Liv,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “God, you know I want this — want you.” 

“But not like this.” The words were gentle and careful. He wasn’t rejecting her. If anything, it looked like it physically hurt him to stop. But he needed her to know the difference. “I don’t want us to do something in a moment,” he said quietly, searching her eyes. “I know, you are overwhelmed right now and exhausted, and your guard is down… so don’t do this now.”

Olivia closed her eyes the moment the words left his mouth because the worst part was that he was right. 

Tonight had been too much. The case, Sonya, the nightmare, the panic, finally telling him the truth — it had all cracked something open inside her. Her emotions were everywhere, raw and exposed, and she knew he wasn’t pushing her away. If anything, he was protecting both of them. Protecting the moment from becoming something she’d later question. Protecting her from making a decision in the middle of fear and exhaustion and relief. 

It wasn’t fair to him either. He deserved more than a kiss after pushing him away for the past two months. More than a moment she might later blame on hormones or grief or lack of sleep. He deserved certainty. 

Yet the thought of pulling away from him completely felt impossible. Slowly she leaned forward until her forehead rested against his again. She drew in a shaky breath and for a moment simply stayed there, letting herself exist in the space between them. 

Neither of them moved for some time as she kept her forehead resting against his. She could feel his breathing, and slowly her own began matching it. The frantic thoughts that filled her head all night finally started to quiet. 

Exhaustion settled heavily over her body now that adrenaline was finally leaving her system, and Elliot noticed it immediately. He felt the way her shoulders had relaxed, and the way her breaths were becoming slower and deeper. A small smile touched his lips as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You should get some rest,” he murmured. 

Carefully, he stood and adjusted the pillows behind her, making sure she was comfortable before gently guiding her down onto the mattress. 

Once she was settled, he pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, tucking it around her. “You need anything?” he asked quietly. “Another glass of water?” 

Olivia shook her head against the pillow. “No.” 

“Okay. I’ll be on the couch, call if you need anything.” 

He lingered there for another second, looking down at her. Her eyes were heavy now, exhaustion finally winning the battle. He lowered to kiss her forehead before he started to turn toward the door, already thinking about the couch and the long sleepless night ahead. He barely made it a step before he felt fingers close around his hand. He stopped immediately and looked back. 

Olivia was still lying there, staring up at him. Her grip wasn’t tight, but it was enough to keep him from taking another step. “Stay.” The word came out almost as a whisper. 

His heart clenched. “Liv…” 

But she shook her head slightly before he could say anything else. Her eyes never left his. “Just lay down with me.” 

For a moment he simply stared at her, his hand still wrapped in hers, and there wasn’t a single part of him that wanted to say no. Without another word, he moved around to the other side of the bed and climbed in beside her. The mattress shifted beneath his weight and she immediately felt some part of herself relax. She rolled onto her side, facing him, and for a few seconds neither of them seemed quite sure what to do with the intimacy of the moment.

Then, she simply moved closer and he met her halfway. One arm slid around her shoulders, drawing her against his chest, and she let herself settle there with a long breath. The steady thump of his heart beneath her ear was comforting. 

His chin rested lightly against the top of her head while his hand moved slowly up and down her arm in a soothing rhythm that made her eyelids feel heavier with every pass. Neither of them spoke, words seemed unnecessary. After everything that had happened that night, this felt like enough — it felt perfect. 

Their fingers found each other again somewhere between them, and he intertwined them gently. She looked down at them for a moment, her gaze lingering on their joined fingers before something inside her tightened with emotion. 

Quietly, she guided their hands downward until they came to rest over her lower stomach. The movement was small, but he understood immediately as their hands settled there. 

There wasn’t anything to feel yet, nothing that could possibly be seen, and still his hand remained there, protective over the life under their hands and impossibly gentle, as though he were already afraid of pressing too hard.

She could feel the warmth of his palm through her thin shirt, and could feel the gentle weight of it alongside her own hand. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling as Elliot’s thumb moved, brushing lightly against her hand. 

Exhaustion started to claim her, and the last thing she felt before sleep pulled her under was Elliot pressing a soft kiss against her temple while his hand remained exactly where she’d placed it.

In the quiet darkness of the room, three heartbeats carried on — one steady, one finally at peace, and one small, nestled safety between them.