Illicit Affairs | Bensler |

7 - I think I've seen this film before (and i didn't like the ending)

After Mike spoke those last cruel words, everything happened very quickly.

Before another thing could be uttered, two impossibly loud gunshots sounded behind him. Liv's ears shrieked at the sound which mingled with the shrill and horrified screams of Clara, who had scurried back into her corner in terror. Olivia, disoriented and confused due to her concussion, could only gasp in fear as Mike collapsed to the ground, roaring with agony.

For a moment, Liv was sure she must've been hallucinating. She watched in shock as Elliot emerged from the shadows, from a door she hadn't even noticed in the dim light.

She breathed a sob of relief at his face; he didn't even meet her desperate gaze as he advanced on Mike who lay writing in pain on the gritty floor.

"Mark my words, Micheal. Laying your filthy hands on that woman was the last mistake of your sorry life." Elliot said in a low, lethal tone. Mike gave a weak chuckle. "Detective Stabler. How many other dead little girls got you to that position, huh?" He asked with a proud smirk; one which was instantly wiped from his face by Elliot's fist.

Alternating hands, Elliot continued to beat, and beat, and beat, and beat... He felt himself give in to the darkest of urges that dwelled within him, the little voice nagging 'He doesn't deserve to live' which chorused in his head day to day dealing with the lowest forms of scum. Beat, beat, beat, beat... Mike was not laughing anymore, more like a halting raspy wheeze whenever he could catch a breath. El's fists thrummed with dull pain and blood had begun to splatter his face and hands... But, as quicky as he had found himself lost in that rage, he felt something tugging at his consciousness; a quiet, shivering sobbing with a weakness to it that disturbed him to his core. He stopped, knuckles bloodied and hands shaking, and looked up to where Olivia sat, her head hanging and shoulders heaving as she cried. Elliot felt his heart drop into his gut as the haunting sound of her defeated sobs and of Mike's struggling pants echoed and amplified tenfold in is eardrums.

"Liv..." He whispered, and all he received in response was an uncertain whimper. Now on his knees before her he quicky and delicately cut the duct tape from her wrists. The best Olivia could manage was to take quick, shivering breaths as her hands and legs were freed from their binds; she took a moment to quickly examine the injuries she'd sustained... On top on the splitting head ache and what she was certain was a broken rib from the car accident, she counted five cuts of varying lengths on her chest, legs, and arms; all superficial but bleeding nonetheless, and she couldn't begin to think about what he had said before Elliot took him down; every twisted thing she'd seen flashed before her eyes at the thought of the time, however long it was, she'd been unconscious.

El finished unwrapping the tape from her ankles and sat back on his heels, watching Olivia's shaking and impossibly small frame as she surveyed herself; her eyes distant and unfocused.

"Liv, come on," He spoke softly, practically whispering, and as he reached to lift her he made sure to keep his touch gentle and light; despite this she still flinched as his hands carefully bought her into his arms.

She managed to sling her arms around his neck with a gasp of pain, and then she tapped his shoulder rapidly.

"Wait--" Olivia groaned. El stopped, his jaw clenched as he gazed down at her tired face.

"Clara, can you walk?" She asked softly, craning her neck slightly toward the dark corner the young woman had retreated to. "You're safe, now. He can't get to you, but we both need to be in a hospital now." Liv urged. Clara's hollow face came into view, she stood shakily and after a sheepish glance down to where Micheal lay unconscious, she followed behind Elliot.

As the three of them emerged into the fading light of a winter afternoon, Liv and Clara both shielded their eyes.

Elliot carefully set Olivia in the passenger seat, and helped Clara into the back. As he sat behind the wheel he glanced over to where Liv had slumped against the window. She was in bad shape. When he was leaving Kathy's mother's house he had passed a car wreck; a feeling of pure dread unlike any he'd felt before washed over him as he realised it was Liv's car, and she was nowhere to be seen. He knew instantly she'd been taken, he was pretty sure by the same piece of dirt who'd beaten the woman who now sat in the backseat of his car into falsely accusing an NYPD detective. He had no idea the extent Liv had been hurt by the accident, but he could see on her body, and in her eyes, the amount that man had put her through in the time to track down Mike and his last known address. The guilt became a black hole in his heart; slowly engulfing every shred of his soul as it grew, and grew... He couldn't begin to imagine how she felt, all these years of working with victims of especially heinous crimes and yet he couldn't think of a single thing to say; it occurred to him that it was often Liv with the compassionate words of healing, and the void of sorrow within him grew again.