Walking Seperate Paths - Chapter V

Title: Walking Separate Paths
Author: Tara
Rating: R/NC-17 (m/f, m/m)
Pairings: Benson/Stabler, Stabler/Beecher, Beecher/Keller, Keller/m
Summary: This is technically an AU: We know that OZ is definitely in NY, and Stabler’s wife Kathy hasn’t left yet. This is set around OZ Season 5. A child prostitution ring leaves Elliot with new answers to his own origins, and redefines a new meaning for family. I suck at writing Summaries, but this is one of my better pieces of fanfic, so enjoy.

CHAPTER V

484 Columbus Avenue and West 82nd 12:22 p.m.

Olivia was wrapping a towel around herself when she heard a knock at the door. She frowned. She very rarely had visitors, but when she did, it was almost always an inconvenience. Her hair dripped onto the floor as she made her way to the door. She peered through the peephole and was shocked to see Elliot, leaning on the wall opposite her door, his hands in his pockets, his head down.

Even as she began turning the locks to let him in, she was overwhelmed with the sensation of being sixteen again, terrified at the thought of her first date. Then reality smacked her in the face, and she was herself again. Come on, Benson, get a grip. It’s just Elliot.

She opened the door enough for him to see her face, and smiled.

“Hey, El, you ok? I thought you’d be heading home.”

“Hey Liv, I just…I just needed to be somewhere, you know? Somewhere that wasn’t home.”

“Sure, no problem, some on in, let me throw some clothes on.” She stepped back enough to let him in the front hall and locked the door behind him. She was aware suddenly that he was looking at her, standing there, in her towel, and she would have blushed if she’d known how. Yup, definitely, she was sixteen again.

She escaped to her room, double checking that the door was closed behind her, even as she said, loud enough for him to hear, “Just sit down anywhere. You can grab whatever’s in the fridge. I’ll be out in a second.” There was no acknowledgement, but she knew he must have heard her.

She scrambled around the room, grabbing and discarding clothes as she went, quickly running her hands through her damp hair. Finally, she settled on her second favorite pair of comfy clothes. The first pair was paint stained and full of holes, and she definitely wasn’t wearing it in front of company, even if it was Elliot.

Nope, the college shirt and sweat pants would have to do. Running a brush through her hair and putting on some gloss was the best she could do without seeing like she’d tried too hard or anything.

Her thoughts were all over the place. She knew why he hadn’t gone home. He hadn’t wanted to face his wife and his kids with horror behind his eyes of what he’d seen. She’d never known him to be anything less than a martyr for the cause, and she respected him for it, although she supposed that if she were his wife and not his partner it would probably drive her insane. She had no experience with kids, really, not for a parental view or anything, and she had now clue how they reacted when he came home, but she imagined that it was probably muted versions of their mother’s reaction.

Taking a last look at her reflection, she left her room in search of Elliot. She didn’t have far to go. He was sitting on her couch, staring into space. Even if she hadn’t seen the look I his eyes she would have known something was wrong just by body language alone. Elliot had very open body language, he didn’t sit in a chair, he sprawled in it. He didn’t recline on a couch, he claimed it, hands up over the back, legs splayed out in front of him. This time was different. His legs were tightly closed, and his hands remained clutched in his lap, his posture slightly hunched as she sat there, just staring.

She suddenly realized that he hadn’t even bothered to take off his coat. Turning, she went into the kitchen and pulled two beers out of the fridge. Popping the tops of both, she headed back in to Elliot, sitting next to him on the couch.

“El.” He looked up at her then, and she saw his mask drop into place. Typical. Now if he followed to pattern she was going to have to pry the information out of him. She touched his shoulder and handed him a beer.

“You know, you’re here. You might as well stay awhile.” He smirked, getting the hint, and shrugged out of his coat, dropping it on her desk chair before coming back to sit next to her. He took a pull on his beer and started rolling his cuffs.

“Elliot, why didn’t you go home? I’m sure that Kathy and the kids are going to worry when you don’t show up, and I know Cragen’s going to be pissed if he calls and you’re not there.”

He didn’t answer.

She tried again, softer this time, her hand touching his forearm. She was always surprised at the heat he gave off, really startling when you didn’t expect it. “Are you okay?”

He turned, so quickly that she was startled, and had to grab her beer to prevent its tumbling off the couch.

“Liv, I’m…not okay.” He voice seemed to be coming from a million miles away. “I can’t get that boy out of my mind. I keep seeing him, laying there, and I can only imagine what it must have been like for him, humiliated and abused for years, and I’m so sick inside that I’ve shut down. How could anyone do that to a child? That boy wasn’t even old enough to know what sex was, and he’d obviously been doing it for years. How could… how could…I don’t…”

The façade broke then, and she was shocked to see tears, even more surprised to feel herself crying with him, not audibly, just big silent tears making their way down each of their faces.

She turned into him, even as he turned to face her, and suddenly they were holding each other, and they were crying. They cried for that boy, and for each other, and for everything else that they’d seen that tore another little piece of their sanity away. She held him as tightly as he held her, and underneath it all, she could feel the tension in him, the anger at his own inadequacy.

His cheek was rough against the skin of her neck, and she shivered, just a bit. His breath was hot, and she didn’t want to let him go. Somewhere, in her mind, she battled with herself. She wasn’t a teenager, and she had self control. Elliot was married and he definitely wasn’t hers. He belonged to Kathy and his kids. He…

…pulled his face away from her neck and stared at her, his eyes as red as hers and his lips turned up in a half smile she knew and loved. “Please, Liv, I just need to forget. Please. I just need…”

Olivia’s body knew even if her mind didn’t. She moved into him, her lips meeting his softly at first, then harder. The pressure made her body writhe into him, and somehow the conscious part of her that could have prevented her from doing this sat back, and she was on autopilot.

His hands clawed up her back, and some part of her distantly realized that she was suddenly straddling him. <Wow, I definitely didn’t remember getting here. Here is good. Here is…oh my God.> Her brain shut down, indefinitely.

~~~

Elliot didn’t know why, and he didn’t know how, but he was here and she was here, and he was touching her skin, miles of skin under his hands, and her mouth was in his mouth, and she was saying his name, over and over again.

No. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t hurt her. He didn’t know why he was doing this or how it had started, but he was not going to let his cock claim the show. Then, Olivia’s nails clawed down his back, and his hands clawed up hers, and he realized that there was no turning back now. They were going to fuck, hard and fast, and they were going to hurt each other and he didn’t care. He just wanted to feel.

He laid her back on the couch, still attacking her mouth with his tongue. She tasted sweet, and like beer, her mouth matched his, biting at him back, her nails clawed up and down his back like he clawed up and down hers.

He sat up, just long enough to unbutton his shirt and throw it somewhere behind him. His undershirt followed, and he yelped for a moment as she attacked his nipple with her teeth. God, Liv, I never knew you had it in you.

The pain was good, and definitely welcome, and his hands moved up her back, pulling her shirt over her head. She stopped nipping at him long enough to pull the shirt over her head and moved to latch onto his other nipple. He felt hard enough to burst through his pants, and he hadn’t even really touched her yet. His eyes fell momentarily to his wedding band, shiny gold against her hair, and he thought of Kathy, of his kids, and he was done.

He ripped her off of him, tearing at her pants as he pushed her down with one hand. He didn’t even register her eyes widening a bit, in anticipation, and maybe a little bit of fear. She was wearing no underwear, a fact he deeply appreciated when he saw how wet she was already, and some deep dark part of him smirked.

Olivia clawed at his pants, panting like an animal, her legs wrapped around his waist tightly enough to bruise. He stood, long enough to drop his pants and underwear in one fluid movement. His cock was leaking against his belly, pushing up against his skin, and she knew another moment of fear.

“Stand up and bend over.” His voice was coming from somewhere else, and the man who was fisting his cock in front of her was not a man she knew. What frightened her more than anything else was that at this point, she didn’t fucking care. She wanted him to fuck her, wanted to feel the pain of it, and the pleasure of it.

She positioned herself over the arm of the couch, bracing her hands on the leather, and waited. His hesitation made her turn her head to stare.

He was looking at her, exposed and open, red and dripping as she pressed back towards him, pumping her hips at him.

“Come on, Elliot. You know you want to. Just fuck me already. You know I can take it.”

She almost fell forward at his first thrust in, and she vaguely registered the feel of a condom, the barrier between her and his skin small but significant. <He’d never be able to take me raw, he’s got kids, and the fucking wife, and the proverbial picket...fuck!> His hips were slamming into her and she bucked back to meet him.

She felt like an animal and she rutted like one, each thrust in pulling a grunt or gasp out of her, and when his thrusts turned erratic, she begged him to come. His hand slid around her hip to dip down to where they were joined, pinching and pulling on her clit. She was almost there. Almost…

~~~

<Fuck!> Liv was so tight around him, and she was so wet that she dripped down his thighs. His brain had shut down long ago, and when she started begging, her voice keening at him to let her come, he almost lost it there. They were both covered in sweat, and her breasts bounced against the couch with each thrust in. She started trembling and he fucker her harder, bending forward over her back.

One hand was worked her clit as his other reached up to pinch a nipple. She screamed his name as she came, and the feeling of her pulsing around him was more than enough to push him over, one last thrust in imbedding him as far as he could go. His mouth found the junction between shoulder and neck and bit down, pinning her like an animal as he spasmed inside.

He was on fire, and she was hot in his hands, around his cock, and she was screaming and he was screaming and they were…gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oswald Maximum Security Prison, Albany, 5:06 p.m.

Tim McManus was definitely going to hit something. He didn’t have time for this shit, and with the way things were going, he definitely wasn’t getting out of here any time soon. There had already been one knife fight, and he was definitely worried about the Aryans. Vern Schillinger seemed too complacent, as though he were biding his time waiting for…something. What that something was, of course was “privileged information,” and McManus knew that it was only a matter of patience, and strategy.

There were other little things that had ticked at his mind recently. Murphy had appraised him confidentially that Keller seemed to be having nightmares, and that Beecher had been waiting them out every night next to Keller’s bed.

Normally, this wouldn’t have even made it onto Tim’s top 10 list of things to think about, but there were circumstances that had made up his mind for him. Leo had called 15 minutes ago to let him know that he and Pete were expected in Conference 3, and that Keller’s personal dossier was needed. Things like this smacked of FBI interference, and Tim knew how much Leo hated the FBI.

Keller’s own personal insect, Special Agent Fuller, was almost certainly going to be there, and Tim didn’t have enough Tylenol in his desk to listen to more whining about murder and plea bargaining. Keller was in here for life, and that was enough to fuck up any man without the FBI adding to his constant stress load.

He buzzed down to Murphy. “Hey, Murphy, can you come up to my office for a second? I need to ask you something.” There was a crackle of static and a response in the affirmative as the connection closed out.

A few moments later the tapping on the glass outside signaled the C.O.’s arrival.

“Hey Tim, what’s going on?”

He tried in vain to open the Tylenol, childproof also apparently meant adult proof. He nodded to a chair, and Murphy sat, snagging the bottle from him as he did, deftly twisting it open and handing Tim two pills.

Tim swallowed them dry before starting. “Ok, listen I hate to call you up here when I know you’re needed on the floor so I’ll just make this short and sweet. Can you quickly brief me on what’s going on with Keller? I have to meet with Leo in about ten, and he told me to pull Keller’s case.”

Sean sat back in the chair and crossed his legs. “There’s not much to tell you, Tim. Keller’s been thrashing around a lot in his sleep for the past few weeks. He moans and stuff, but quiets down towards morning. Beecher’s been sitting up at night, reading, writing, and he’s been calming Keller down when he wakes up.” He paused.

“You know, I’ve been in this business a long time, Tim. I know when men are scared. I know what guilty men look like when they dream. If Keller’s dreaming I’d bet my pension that he’s not dreaming about anything he’s done. He’s in there curled into himself like a child. I caught Beecher in his bunk last night, rocking him to sleep like he was that man‘s father. I don’t even know if he knows what’s going on. His behavior’s not any different. But I’d like to know what is going on, because it is something.”

Tim’s brows rose. “Could it be something Schillinger’s done? I know Keller was his fuck-buddy when he was younger, long before Tobias Beecher ever entered the picture. Have you heard anything?”

Murphy shrugged. “Nope, although that man has been looking pretty smug the past few weeks. I wouldn’t be surprised if he does know something. But the best you can do is question him, although you don’t have any guarantee that you’ll get anywhere.”

Tim sighed. “I know, believe me, been there, done that. This is OZ, Sean, not show and tell.”

There was a knock on his door, and before he could rise, Pete’s head popped in. “You ready, Tim?”

“Maybe you’re in for just a little show and tell after all.” Murphy smirked.



TBC...,