Chapter Text
The squad had been working tirelessly on the case for days. A brutal assault. A 14-year-old girl named Mia, found barely conscious and covered in bruises, abandoned in an alley in one of the roughest neighborhoods in the city. The details of the crime were horrific, but it wasn’t the brutality alone that gnawed at Olivia. It was the fact that every lead they had followed so far had come up empty.
Ryan Keene had been a name that lingered in the air, a shadow that seemed to loom over every aspect of the investigation, but until now, there had been no concrete proof to link him to the crime.
He was a man in his early thirties, with a history of targeting vulnerable young girls in low-income neighborhoods—a predator who preyed on those most desperate for help. But despite their best efforts, Keene had slipped through their fingers every time.
Mia hadn’t positively identified him yet, but there was something in her eyes when they spoke with her, a flicker of recognition that made Olivia trust her gut. Keene was manipulative, a liar, and a master at hiding his true nature. The way he spoke, the stories he spun—it was always the same pattern with him, preying on the vulnerable, grooming them like they were nothing more than pawns in his twisted game.
Earlier that morning, a witness had spotted Keene in a run-down apartment complex on the outskirts of Manhattan. Olivia, Velasco and Bruno immediately headed to the location. The building was a dilapidated, six-story structure, its once-vibrant brick façade now stained with grime and neglect. Rusted fire escapes clung to the sides of the building like skeletons, and the faint smell of decay lingered in the air. It was the kind of place that made Olivia’s instincts buzz. Too many corners to hide, too many risks for something to go wrong.
“Alright,” Olivia said, stepping out of the SUV and scanning the area. “We’ll do this by the book. Keene might be dangerous, and if he’s here, he knows we’re closing in. Velasco, take the back entrance. Bruno and I will handle the front. We box him in.”
Velasco nodded, already moving toward the narrow alley that led to the back of the building. Bruno adjusted his jacket, his hand instinctively brushing the holster at his side.
“We’re not letting him slip through our fingers, Captain.”
Olivia gave him a firm nod. They entered the building cautiously, the creak of the door echoing in the dimly lit hallway. The walls were lined with peeling wallpaper, and the air felt heavy, damp. They moved in silence, their footsteps muffled by the filthy carpet underfoot.
As they climbed the stairs to the second floor, Bruno spotted movement at the end of the corridor.
“There,” he hissed, gesturing toward a shadow slipping through a doorway.
Olivia was already moving, her adrenaline spiking, “NYPD! Ryan Keene, stop!”
But Keene was fast, too fast. The moment he heard her voice, he bolted, showing past a tenant who yelled in surprise and the chase was on.
“Shit!” Bruno yelled.
Keene burst out onto the fire escape, his boots clanging against the rusted metal as he leapt down the stairs two at a time. Olivia was right behind him, her determination outweighing her exhaustion. She could hear Velasco shouting from below, trying to cut Keene off, while Bruno followed just a few steps behind her.
The fire escape ended abruptly, forcing Keene to jump onto the roof of a parked van before hitting the pavement running. Olivia didn’t hesitate, she leapt after him, the impact jolting her knees but doing nothing to slow her down. The three police officers were now running after him.
“Keene, stop! You can’t outrun us!” She yelled, but the man didn’t even glance back.
The chase spilled out onto a busy street, where pedestrians scattered in confusion. Cars honked as Keene weaved through traffic, his desperation evident in the wild look on his face. Olivia pushed herself harder, her lungs burning as she gained on him.
He darted into an intersection without looking, narrowly avoiding a speeding cab. Olivia followed, her gaze locked on him, her mind racing with the need to bring him down. But in her tunnel vision, she didn’t see the sedan coming.
The car appeared out of nowhere, its horn blaring as the driver slammed on the brakes. Olivia had barely had time to turn before it hit her.
It wasn’t a full-speed collision, but the impact was enough to send her sprawling onto the hood. Her body rolled before hitting the pavement, a dull thud reverberating through the street.
“Captain!” Bruno, who was just following behind, sprinted toward her.
She laid there, stunned, her side screaming with pain. Every breath was a struggle, the taste of blood on her tongue. The world was spinning as she tried to process what had just happened.
Her detective was by her side in an instant, crouching down and scanning her for injuries. She struggled to sit up, her vision blurring for a moment.
“Stay down, Cap.” Bruno ordered.
She shook her head stubbornly. “I’m fine. Go. Don’t let him get away!”
“I’ve got him!” Velasco darting past to chase Keene.
“Detective, go!” She snapped.
Bruno hesitated, torn between his instinct to protect his Captain and the need to ensure the suspect didn’t escape. He then glanced at the cracked windshield of the sedan, then back at Olivia.
“You hit your head,” he said firmly, noting the daze look in her eyes. “And your side, you’re bleeding.”
Despite wearing a bullet-proof vest, she got injured in the opening of the vest on her right side.
“I’m fine,” she insisted again, through her wince as her breathing became more and more painful.
“You’re not walking this one off, Cap.”
Her frustration flared, but she lacked the strength to argue further. She allowed her detective to gently guide her to sit on the sidewalk while they waited for EMS. Her mind raced despite the throbbing pain her side.
Minutes later, the sound of sirens signaled the arrival of paramedics and the rest of her squad following in black SUV. Velasco had successfully apprehended Keene, who was now being loaded into a NYPD car. Olivia watched from the curb, her jaw tight despite the sharp ache in her ribs and the pounding in her head.
She hated this, being sidelined, feeling vulnerable. But as Fin hovered nearby, his worry etched on his face, she couldn’t ignore the weight of what had just happened.
“You okay, Liv?”
Olivia winced as the paramedic pressed his fingers in her side. “Guess, erh- I’m not as invincible as I thought.”
“No, you’re not.” He replied bluntly. “And it’s about time you stop actin’ like you are.”
She didn’t respond, her gaze drifting to where Keene was being driven away. The case wasn’t over, not by a long shot, but for now, at least, she knew they had him. And that, despite everything, was worth the pain.
“You probably have broken ribs.” The young paramedic snapped her out of her thoughts. “We'll take you for an X-ray. And you'll need stitches for the wound.”
“See you there, Captain.” Fin told her before heading back to his SUV.
* * *
The emergency room was a blur of activity, but Olivia remained composed, even as the doctor delivered his verdict: three broken ribs, seven stitches on her side and severe bruising.
“You’re lucky it wasn’t worse,” the doctor said, scribbling notes on his clipboard. “Your bullet-proof vest absorbed the shock. Otherwise, you would probably have suffered fractured ribs and risked a perforated lung. You don't have a concussion, but you'll probably have a headache for several days.”
He added, “you’ll need to take it easy: no strenuous activity, no work for at least a week.”
Olivia frowned, “that is not happening.”
“Yes, it is.” Another voice cut in, firm and familiar.
A she recognized him, Olivia cast a piercing, murderous glance at Fin, who was standing in the corner of the room. Her long-time friend, or so she thought, raised his hands in defeat. Of course, he called him.
She turned, her heart skipping at the sight of Elliot striding in. His expression was a mix of relief and frustration.
“What the hell happened?” He demanded, his voice tight.
Fin, leaning against the wall, smirked faintly. “She got hit by a car chasing a perp. Typical Benson.”
Elliot’s jaw clenched. “And you let her?”
Fin shrugged. “You try stopping her.”
Olivia closed her eyes, clearly annoyed by the exchange between the two men. Luckily for her, the doctor cleared his throat and regained their attention.
“I'll prescribe painkillers and antibiotics to prevent the wound from becoming infected. As it's still fresh, it may bleed profusely over the next few hours but don’t worry. Make sure you keep your bandage clean and, Captain…” He paused, “please get some rest, at least for a day or two.”
“Don’t worry about that, I’ll make sure of it.” Elliot stepped towards her.
The doctor nodded and left the room. Fin then approached his two friends as he laid a hand on Stabler’s shoulder.
“Amanda will pick up Noah from school and take care of him for tonight. I’ll keep an eye on the squad for you. Take the day off tomorrow.”
“Fin,” she warned him.
“It's non-negotiable, Liv. The perp ain’t goin’ anywhere, I’ll keep you updated.” He shared a look with Elliot before leaving the room.
The silence between them grew heavier as Elliot’s gaze lingered on Olivia. They were alone now, and the atmosphere in the room had become almost tangible, a mix of rekindled camaraderie and something harder to define—an unspoken attraction that seemed to grow stronger every day. Over the past few weeks, they had started talking more frequently, calling each other almost every day. These daily exchanges had reignited something between them, like a fire they thought had been extinguished but still smoldering beneath the surface.
Olivia attempted a weak smile to lighten the mood. “Guess I’m not as fast as I used to be.”
Elliot stepped closer; his gaze intense. He was close—too close—and Olivia could feel the intensity of his presence. He stood there, just inches away, the frustration that had gripped him moments earlier giving way to something deeper—concern, yes, but also something else, something harder to name.
“You’re scared the hell out of me, Liv” He replied, his voice low, almost a whisper.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, but her wince as she shifted to grab her jacket told another story.
Elliot sighed, his voice softening. “You don’t always have to be fine.”
He grabbed her jacket and helped her into it, his hands gentle but firm. The act was simple, but it carried a weight neither of them acknowledged aloud.
“Let’s get you out of here.”
“You don’t have to bring me home, El.”
“And you don’t get to argue with me.” He gathered her things and led her to the exit.
* * *
The silence in the car was heavy, the city lights casting fleeting shadows across their faces. Finally, Elliot spoke.
“You can’t keep doing this, Liv. Putting yourself in harm’s way like that.”
“Says the pot to the kettle.” She stared out the window, her voice quiet. “It’s our job, El.”
“It’s more than that”, he said, his tone low but intense. “You’ve got nothing to prove. Not to me, not to anyone.”
Her throat tightened, the unspoken emotions between them pressing against the silence. She turned to him, her eyes soft but guarded. “Thank you… for being here.”
Elliot glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Always.”
The car came to a smooth stop in front of Olivia’s building, the engine’s hum dying down as Elliot shifted the gear into park. The night air was crisp, the streetlights casting a soft glow over the sidewalk.
Elliot reached over, the motion instinctive, his hand brushing lightly against her arm as he opened the door. The brief contact sent a jolt through both of them. He wasn’t sure why it felt so charged, but there it was, that same unspoken thing between them that had grown over the past 25 years.
"Let me help you," he said gently, his voice warm but laced with something more—something deeper. He hadn’t meant to sound so intense, but the truth was, he wanted to be closer to her.
Olivia didn't have time to hesitate for long, as she watched Elliot walking around the front of the car. Her breath catching in her throat as she shifted to slide out of the car. She’d been trying to ignore the way her pulse raced every time he was near, but now, as she moved to exit, she felt the weight of his presence more than ever.
Elliot’s hand extended to her, his fingers brushing hers as she took it. The brief contact was almost too much, too electric, and she felt her breath hitch.
She pulled herself out of the car with his help, their hands lingering for just a second too long, and she couldn’t help but notice how close they were standing now. He was so near that she could feel the heat radiating off his body, the muscles in his arm flexing slightly as he supported her.
She took a step back so that he could close the door behind her. Without his hand leaving her lower back, he then led her to the entrance of the building. By the time they reached the top floor, Olivia could feel all the fatigue of the day crushing her body.
Elliot gently pushed the door to Olivia’s apartment open. She moved gingerly, each step a clear effort, but her stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to show just how much pain she was in. The silence between them was heavy, not awkward, but laden with all the things they felt and didn’t say.
She glanced at him over her shoulder, a tired but teasing look in her eyes.
“I told you, Stabler. You didn’t have to bring me home.”
“And I told you, Benson. You don’t get to argue with me tonight.”
Her lips twitched, an almost-smile, but the exhaustion in her expression was unmistakable. Without responding, she made her way toward the couch, lowering herself onto it with a pained groan. Every movement seemed to cost her, and Elliot stayed standing, watching her like a hawk, ready to step in if she faltered.
Finally seated, Olivia leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment before putting aside the flap of her jacket. She pulled up the hem of her t-shirt and froze when she saw the bandage on her side, darkened with blood, more than she’d expected.
Elliot’s sharp eyes caught it immediately. His jaw tightening as he walked in her kitchen and drop the medicine bag on her counter.
“Your bandage needs to be changed.”
“It’s just a little blood. I’ll handle it later.” She brushed him off.
“A little blood? Liv, your bandage looks like a crime scene.”
Her gaze snapped to his, her lips pressing together as if ready to argue. But she stopped herself, sighing instead.
“The supplies are in the bathroom.”
Without another word, Elliot turned and walked toward the bathroom. Olivia leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly. Her body ached, but it wasn’t just the pain. It was him. The way he always hovered, always worried, and yet the way his presence made her feel safe in a way no one else ever could.
She took her phone out of her coat pocket and unlocked the screen. She sent Amanda a message asking how her son was, and received a reply in the nick of time, reassuring her. Noah had shared a pizza party with the girls and was now sleeping like a log. Amanda promised to call her in the morning. Olivia hated being away from her son, but she knew he was in good hands with her friend. She thanked her and dropped her phone carelessly on the side of the sofa.
Elliot returned a moment later, a small first-aid kit in hand. He put the things down on the coffee table before leaning towards her.
“C’me here.” He grabbed the hem of her jacket and slid it off her shoulders, then helped her get out of it.
He carefully folded it and laid it on the couch next to her before kneeling in front of her. He opened the box and took out disinfectant, compresses and a bandage large enough to wrap the wound. His movements were purposeful, steady.
Olivia leaned on her side against a cushion and lifted up her shirt. Yet Elliot cleared his throat in embarrassment.
“You’re going to have to lift your shirt a little more so I can get to it.”
She hesitated, the intimacy of the request hanging in the air between them. It wasn’t as if they'd never nursed each other's wounds before, years of partnership had demanded that, but this felt different. More vulnerable.
Finally, she shifted forward, wincing, and pulled her shirt higher, revealing the soaked bandage and the dark, angry bruise already spreading across her ribs.
Elliot froze, his breath catching at the sight. His jaw tightened as he took in the swollen, purpling skin around the edge of the wound. For a moment, he didn’t move, his hand hovering as if he didn’t know where to start.
“Jesus, Liv…”
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Like hell, he thought. He shook his head, pushing down whatever emotions simmering beneath the surface, and carefully began peeling off the bloodied bandage.
His touch was delicate, almost reverent, as if he was afraid of hurting her more. Olivia’s eyes stayed on him, watching the way his brow furrowed in concentration, his hands moving with surprising tenderness.
“You know, being captain has its perks. Like not having to chase suspects anymore.”
“And you know I can’t stay out of the action. It’s not who I am.” A faint smile playing on her lips.
He paused, glancing up at her. His eyes softened, but there was still frustration there, too.
“Yeah. And one day, it’s going to get you killed.”
She didn’t answer, but her gaze softened, her lips parting slightly but her next words never came. He returned to his task, gently dabbing antiseptic on the wound. Olivia hissed through her teeth, her body tensing.
“I know it stings. Sorry, Liv.”
“Just get it over with, Stabler.” She greeted her teeth.
He smirked faintly at her tone but stayed focused, careful not to press too hard as he cleaned the area. His fingers occasionally brushed against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.
When he finally finished applying a fresh bandage, he sat back on his heels, his hands resting on his thighs. He looked up at her, his expression unreadable but intense.
“That should hold for the night.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. Olivia studied his face, noting the way his jaw clenched, the concern etched into his features.
“You’re good at this. You’ve got a gentle touch, years of practice with your children's boo-boos I guess.” She smiled.
“It’s easy when it’s someone I…” he trailed off, clearing his throat. “…someone I care about.”
Their eyes met, and the unspoken words hung heavily between them. Neither of them looked away, the air charged with years of stolen glances, of longing and restraint.
TO BE CONTINUED...