Bensler Oneshots

Poor Anger Management

"We find the defendant not guilty..."

Olivia was lost in her thoughts. She couldn't understand why Myra had lied to all of them, had lied to her.

Olivia had offered her support the entire way, and upon hearing the not guilty verdict, the younger woman had actually exhaled in relief.

"What's wrong, Myra?"

"I lied. He didn't rape me."

Afterwards, Olivia couldn't bear to watch as Elliot arrested Myra for making a false rape allegation. She had cost Ron Polikoff his job, his home, and all for what, revenge? The man was almost falsely convicted of violently raping her! Granted, he shouldn't be sleeping with his students in the first place, but what was new? The world was a very messed up place.

Mostly, Olivia felt used, and she was angry at Myra, but she was angry at Polikoff, too, and at Elliot.

Once they wrapped up their case paperwork, Cragen told her to take the next day, and Olivia had practically screamed at her boss when she realized Elliot wasn't going to be given the same order. In fact, she'd stormed right past her partner when he'd tried talking to her, knocking her shoulder into his hard enough to make him stumble backward.

She'd stormed straight on into the locker room, stopping in front of her locker. The handle dared to stick, and she punched the door once. It would've opened then, but Olivia hit it again for good measure. Surprised by how good it felt to let off a little steam, she took another swing, then another, hitting the metal door again and again. Everything else faded away as she beat the defenseless locker.

"Liv, Olivia! Stop it!" Elliot's voice broke through the sound of blood pounding in her ears.

The rest of the room came flooding back, and she twisted in his arms, which she found were wrapped tightly around hers, pinning her back against his chest.

"Let go of me!"

"Liv, please-"

"Dammit, get your hands off of me!"

When he didn't comply, she tried to kick him.

"Ouch! Stop, Liv!" he said, his grip getting tighter even as her heel connected with his ankle.

She huffed and hit the top of his legs where her fists could reach. "Let me go!"

"You're gonna hurt yourself. Stop! Stop it!"

Olivia stopped swinging a moment later, sucking in air to try and catch her breath. Elliot's arms around her went slack, but she still slumped against him as the fire went out of her.

"It's okay. You're okay. I've gotcha," he whispered.

Elliot lowered them both to the bench behind them, keeping an arm around her.

He tried to be careful as he lifted her hands, but she still hissed in pain as he inspected the bleeding cuts and the skin darkening into bruises.

"Damn," he cursed. "We should get these cleaned up."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, on the verge of tears both in embarrassment and from the pain.

"Hey, no, it's alright. How many times have I come in here and gone a few rounds with the locker after a tough case? The only thing that matters is that you're okay."

Olivia rolled her eyes and carefully swiped away a stray tear. "All this time, you'd think by now I'd know the locker always wins."

Elliot chuckled. "That you should."

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you about Polikoff. I was so sure."

"It's fine. I'm sorry I wouldn't see your side."

"But I was wrong."

Elliot shrugged. "You couldn't have known that. I was angry about the separation, and I took it out on you. It wasn't fair of me to treat you like that."

"Guess we both need to work on healthy outlets for our anger," Olivia said sheepishly.

He smiled. "I s'pose we do. Now, come on, partner, let's get your hands cleaned up. Nothing's broken, is it?"

Olivia shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

"Good."