The Night of the Storm (II)
Title: The Night of the Storm II
Author: Willima Tell and his Overture
Theme/set: SVU: 12 Ridicule
Rating: PG-13 (bad wordsies)
Claim + Additional characters: Olivia Benson + Elliot Stabler
Warning: There is no real warning, there are some naughty words, so be careful reading okay? Don't want you to get a potty mouth!
Summery: When we last left our dashing heroine, courageous, brave Olivia Benson was hunting down an illusive prey only to be caught unawares! (DUN DUN DUNNNNN) When she awakens she must deal with the consequences of her careless actions.
Canon Olivia re-emerges to stop a killer who kidnaps women during the wettest month in New York history. I have decided to stop being an asshat and finish
25_crimes. Suck it.
Word count: 988
When she awoke, she could hear people moving around her - voices over head, far away - talking probably about her. Was it vain to think like that? That she was the topic of conversation at hand, she contemplated it briefly before another stab of pain caused her to close her eyes and concentrate on not throwing up. Concentrating on anything but the heavy weight in her arms and the throbbing that shook her whole body. She refused to think of words like, pain, humiliation, throbbing, bruise, ache. Those words just pushed her back down toward the cold cement where she felt most comfortable.
She wasn't there long, not before Elliot was kneeling by her side and asking her questions, shaking her - Liv are you okay? Liv speak to me, how many fingers? What's the capital of Turkey? Fuck Elliot Stabler and his god damned questions. Keeping her eyes shut she felt sorry for herself for a long time, she figured from the sounds of the boats and the helicopters over head that she had been out for a good ten minutes - and that they probably didn't have the Perp in custody. Not if Elliot was there, kneeling, shaking, question asking, good old Elliot Stabler. Handsome Elliot, the angry one, the one who got her into trouble more times then she could count and then got her ass out of it just as many times - if not more. Right now, however Elliot Stabler was one shake away from loosing his fucking hand.
With a groan, she rolled on to her back, and took mental stock - she was dressed, she could see the lights around her, she could hear the rain pounding over head - the pounding that was, at one time, in time with her heart - had now switched to the pounding in her head. Everything was intact, and she waited until her eyes could focus on Elliot in front of her before she slowly sat up and gave him something of a half grin, half - snarl that surprised even him. He made a comment on that face, something about when she looked like she was going to kill something he knew she was okay. It was a false sort of comment though, something to say when one wanted to pretend that everything was okay - a little quip that said: Oh look, I can make a joke so everyone can lighten up now. Olivia Benson did not want to lighten up. She responded to his comment with a growl and used a wooden box to haul herself up.
The growl was as false as his joke, and both knew it - both stood and surveyed the scene in front of them, CSU and cops swarming what had once been an empty space. Rain was drown out by shouting of orders, rubber soled boots on cement floor, pounding out some sort of rhythm in the anarchy and chaos that came with police enforcement. Taking a deep breath, she watched the swarming sea of navy blue and put on her game face - she had worked with worse then a headache before and there was no way she was leaving her crime scene. Game face on, hands clenched at her sides she took a step forward and, whoops! Found that one of her legs didn't work - the world turned to the right, and as she started to fall she wondered what that was all about. Instead of hitting cement, she hit Elliot - who was just as solid, but a little more comfy then the cold floor.
Grabbing her shoulders, he righted her, and then quickly turned her around to start her toward the exit. It took her a good two minutes to realize that they were going the opposite way of where she wanted to go, and as soon as she opened her mouth her partner stopped her. Good old Elliot, tried, true Elliot. The work horse of SVU - some sort of angry 21st century Hercules striking back at the Gods of Pedophilia, rape, torture, domestic abuse. This titan walked his stupid, disheveled, lousy, worthless, knuckle head of a partner back out to the door before he pulled his rain jacket over both their heads and started out toward the waiting bus.
Poor, shaken Olivia Benson. Golden Child of SVU next to the strong man, sitting dejectedly in the ambulance like some scrawny kid that didn't get picked for kick ball. She would have liked to push back the feeling of paranoia in her stomach, the paranoia that someone had watched her screw up and was now quietly snickering to themselves or, at worse, more people - and soon it would spread like wild fire. Some dumb mutt got the jump on her. Scorn, mockery, some sort of department star fallen from grace - it made her tongue taste like ash, her throat closed and tightened and she sat silently as the EMT's took care of her.
In front of her, the only lead they had buzzed and swarmed with life - expanding and contracting in front of her eyes, while her stomach twisted and turned in knots she felt the second wave of nausea pass over her. Hyper salivating, she swallowed it down, breathing in through her nose - exhaling through her mouth. Stupid, waste of space Olivia Benson, with her stupid breathing exercises, sitting there like a piece of shit while people did work around her, while people combed for evidence, searched for foot prints, rolled out a stretcher covered with a white sheet.
The white set her off, and a clap of thunder hid the noise she made when she threw up next to the ambulance.
Author: Willima Tell and his Overture
Theme/set: SVU: 12 Ridicule
Rating: PG-13 (bad wordsies)
Claim + Additional characters: Olivia Benson + Elliot Stabler
Warning: There is no real warning, there are some naughty words, so be careful reading okay? Don't want you to get a potty mouth!
Summery: When we last left our dashing heroine, courageous, brave Olivia Benson was hunting down an illusive prey only to be caught unawares! (DUN DUN DUNNNNN) When she awakens she must deal with the consequences of her careless actions.
Canon Olivia re-emerges to stop a killer who kidnaps women during the wettest month in New York history. I have decided to stop being an asshat and finish
25_crimes. Suck it.
Word count: 988
When she awoke, she could hear people moving around her - voices over head, far away - talking probably about her. Was it vain to think like that? That she was the topic of conversation at hand, she contemplated it briefly before another stab of pain caused her to close her eyes and concentrate on not throwing up. Concentrating on anything but the heavy weight in her arms and the throbbing that shook her whole body. She refused to think of words like, pain, humiliation, throbbing, bruise, ache. Those words just pushed her back down toward the cold cement where she felt most comfortable.
She wasn't there long, not before Elliot was kneeling by her side and asking her questions, shaking her - Liv are you okay? Liv speak to me, how many fingers? What's the capital of Turkey? Fuck Elliot Stabler and his god damned questions. Keeping her eyes shut she felt sorry for herself for a long time, she figured from the sounds of the boats and the helicopters over head that she had been out for a good ten minutes - and that they probably didn't have the Perp in custody. Not if Elliot was there, kneeling, shaking, question asking, good old Elliot Stabler. Handsome Elliot, the angry one, the one who got her into trouble more times then she could count and then got her ass out of it just as many times - if not more. Right now, however Elliot Stabler was one shake away from loosing his fucking hand.
With a groan, she rolled on to her back, and took mental stock - she was dressed, she could see the lights around her, she could hear the rain pounding over head - the pounding that was, at one time, in time with her heart - had now switched to the pounding in her head. Everything was intact, and she waited until her eyes could focus on Elliot in front of her before she slowly sat up and gave him something of a half grin, half - snarl that surprised even him. He made a comment on that face, something about when she looked like she was going to kill something he knew she was okay. It was a false sort of comment though, something to say when one wanted to pretend that everything was okay - a little quip that said: Oh look, I can make a joke so everyone can lighten up now. Olivia Benson did not want to lighten up. She responded to his comment with a growl and used a wooden box to haul herself up.
The growl was as false as his joke, and both knew it - both stood and surveyed the scene in front of them, CSU and cops swarming what had once been an empty space. Rain was drown out by shouting of orders, rubber soled boots on cement floor, pounding out some sort of rhythm in the anarchy and chaos that came with police enforcement. Taking a deep breath, she watched the swarming sea of navy blue and put on her game face - she had worked with worse then a headache before and there was no way she was leaving her crime scene. Game face on, hands clenched at her sides she took a step forward and, whoops! Found that one of her legs didn't work - the world turned to the right, and as she started to fall she wondered what that was all about. Instead of hitting cement, she hit Elliot - who was just as solid, but a little more comfy then the cold floor.
Grabbing her shoulders, he righted her, and then quickly turned her around to start her toward the exit. It took her a good two minutes to realize that they were going the opposite way of where she wanted to go, and as soon as she opened her mouth her partner stopped her. Good old Elliot, tried, true Elliot. The work horse of SVU - some sort of angry 21st century Hercules striking back at the Gods of Pedophilia, rape, torture, domestic abuse. This titan walked his stupid, disheveled, lousy, worthless, knuckle head of a partner back out to the door before he pulled his rain jacket over both their heads and started out toward the waiting bus.
Poor, shaken Olivia Benson. Golden Child of SVU next to the strong man, sitting dejectedly in the ambulance like some scrawny kid that didn't get picked for kick ball. She would have liked to push back the feeling of paranoia in her stomach, the paranoia that someone had watched her screw up and was now quietly snickering to themselves or, at worse, more people - and soon it would spread like wild fire. Some dumb mutt got the jump on her. Scorn, mockery, some sort of department star fallen from grace - it made her tongue taste like ash, her throat closed and tightened and she sat silently as the EMT's took care of her.
In front of her, the only lead they had buzzed and swarmed with life - expanding and contracting in front of her eyes, while her stomach twisted and turned in knots she felt the second wave of nausea pass over her. Hyper salivating, she swallowed it down, breathing in through her nose - exhaling through her mouth. Stupid, waste of space Olivia Benson, with her stupid breathing exercises, sitting there like a piece of shit while people did work around her, while people combed for evidence, searched for foot prints, rolled out a stretcher covered with a white sheet.
The white set her off, and a clap of thunder hid the noise she made when she threw up next to the ambulance.