Title: Rollercoaster, Favourite Ride
Author: ZombieJazz
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.
Summary: Elliot has left SVU - and it hits Olivia hard. His departure has some implications for her work life and her personal life. She tries to figure out what it means for her own identity, her new marriage, and her work situation. In the midst of it all, she's also having to navigate new squad members at work and still deal with being the mother of a sick child. This story takes place just several months after the conclusion of Undeserved in my AU series of stories.
Author's Notes: This AU series is for SVU fans and readers who want Olivia to have something that resembles a more normal life outside of work and a family of her own - hopefully somewhat realistically within the canon of SVU. My stories are not EO and never will be. You may want to read some of my other ones for context on the characters in this AU first - though, it's likely fairly self-explanatory on its own too.
WARNING: THIS STORY MIGHT KIND OF BE A SPOILER FOR READERS OF UNDESERVED.
Will poked his head out off the kitchen and gazed down the hall at her as soon as she got in the door.
"Hey babe," he called. "You just made it in time for dinner."
In a way she was almost hoping she would've missed dinner. She wasn't sure how she was going to make it through sitting at the table with her husband and son and pretending everything was OK. But she sure wasn't going to start talking about it - not until at least Noah was in bed. She wasn't even sure she wanted to think about it.
She was thinking about it, though. She couldn't stop thinking about it.
Elliot had handed in his papers. Elliot had retired. Elliot wasn't coming back. Elliot had abandoned her. Elliot had thrown their entire partnership away – their friendship – and he hadn't even given her the courtesy to give her a heads up. He wouldn't return any of her calls. He wouldn't return her emails. He wouldn't return her texts even. It was like everything they had, everything they'd been through, everything they'd done for each other – it just didn't count. She clearly didn't have any right to having opinions, say or even thoughts on the matter – not from his perspective. That's the message she was getting.
The whole thing just stung so badly. It had been a long and drawn out three months of wondering what the hell was going on, of hoping that he'd eventually get over it, maybe get some counseling - and he'd come back and they'd get back to work. But that wasn't happening. It was official now. He was gone.
She'd tried to hide her tears at work. She gave herself five minutes to go and breakdown privately. The weight of his decision, and the reality that the void that she'd felt for the past three months was now going to stay, hit her to the point it knocked the air from her lungs.
Elliot Stabler had been a rock in her life. The longest relationship she'd ever had with a man – even if it was technically professional and platonic; even if it had been confusing for her more than once with their connection and friendship stirring emotions so deeply in her. But no matter how she cut it, he'd been one of the only stable things in her adult life. He'd been there for guidance and friendship and support and advice – at work and in her personal life. He was her partner, her friend, a mentor, an older brother, a good man. He had played so many roles in her life. He'd helped her through so much. He knew more about her than she even wanted to admit. He knew things she wished he didn't know. He knew everything.
He'd listened to her when she talked about her mother and the rape and her father. He'd had her back when she tracked down her brother. He'd offered support after her assault – even though she didn't want him to even know. He'd offered support when she felt her biological clock ticking. He'd covered her ass more than once in more than one way. He'd stood up for her. He'd told her off when she needed it. He critiqued her boyfriends – usually harshly. He smiled when she was happy. He had her back when they were in the field – and in life, in general. He worried about her – sometimes in an overbearing and overprotective way that drove her insane but at the same time, she wasn't sure how'd she now function without having it there.
He'd been there when she was pregnant with Noah. He'd been there for her son's birth. He'd helped her while she was a single mother. He gave her permission to be in a relationship with Will and clearly told her to not fuck it up. He helped her see how much she loved Will and how much Will loved her. He'd given her support when Noah got sick. He'd convinced her more than once to stay with special victims. And, now he hadn't let her do the same for him. He'd shut her out – like he always did to the women in his life. He'd shut her out before when he was having problems at home, when he was separating from Kathy, even when he was getting back together with his wife. He'd kept it all as private from her as possible, in a way that she'd had to initiate and brow-beat him to get him to say much of anything. She shouldn't have been surprised he'd shut her out while he made this decision and while he coped with the aftermath of the shooting. But she still hadn't been expecting it. She didn't think it would all happen this way. It hurt.
She'd thought about calling Will after Cragen had told her. She thought about crying to him over the phone as she stood in the interrogation room and screamed out her silent sobs. But talking about any of it with Will had been hard enough. In typical Will form, he'd been understanding and patient. He knew how important Elliot was to her and the many roles he'd played in her life. But no matter how she cut it, Elliot was still the other man. She knew that that would always make Will uncomfortable on some level, even though she'd made clear to Will had Elliot was an assigned partner and he was her chosen life partner. They played very different – but still important roles in her life. Will understood that but she knew he still struggled with it. It wasn't that he didn't trust her. It wasn't that he even seemed suspicious of anything. It was just an insecurity and an inadequacy that she knew he'd likely always have – like he felt he was somehow always living in the shadow of Elliot Stabler, even though that's not the way she saw it at all. What Will saw, though was that Elliot had known her longer and knew more about what she saw and did at work – such an intimidate part of her life but one that she tried to shelter her family from.
Up to that point the conversations her and Will had about Elliot's situation, had been predominantly based on the impact it was having on her at work. Special victims was down a body and also now had a target on its back. It meant that even though she was still on a compassionate care leave contract with Noah being sick, she'd still been putting in a lot of extra time to make sure the slack was picked up. She owed that to everyone in the squad – especially Elliot, though. When they moved outside of that discussion, it had really only been some commentary about the IAB being the IAB and making Elliot's return more difficult. That was something Will understood – he'd watched her have to jump through hoops to keep com-care while Noah finished treatment; he'd seen her stressed about other interviews and interrogations that came up with the bureau that attacked her professionalism and integrity and put her career and pension on the line.
She'd talked to Will about how hoped Elliot was coping OK and how much she wished he'd turn her calls. But they hadn't talked about even the possibility that Elliot wouldn't be coming back. She wasn't really sure she'd even considered it – not until Fin had presented that as a possibility about a week ago.
So rather than call Will, she'd agreed to go out on the 10-34 on Waverly. She thought it would give her more time to process what had just happened and to figure out how she was going to deal with it – and how to go home to her family and try to smile, and how to even talk about it with her infuriatingly understanding husband. She'd hope by being late, she would've missed dinner and that Noah's bedtime routine would've started. That she would've been able to come home and bury herself in that and put off having to look at Will. He'd know something was wrong the moment they made actual eye contact.
She sighed as she slipped off her boots and put her keys away. She took her time securing her weapon and badge out of sight and reach. And she composed herself, taking a deep breath before wandering down the hall and towards the kitchen, coaching herself to put a smile on her face.
She could hear Will chattering at Noah as she got closer. The dining room table was already set – tortilla flatbreads sitting on a plate along side a dish of salsa. It told her all she needed to know – as she got wafts of the food she could hear sizzling from the kitchen.
She rubbed her son's cheek as she entered the room, where he was standing on his tippy-toes trying to reach where he had the cheese-grater set on the counter and manage to shred some cheese.
"Hi Mom," he greeted her between his efforts, his tongue hanging out of his mouth in concentration.
"That'd likely be easier at the table, sweets," she told him, leaning down to give him a kiss on his head and reached around him to move it back into the dining room for him. He followed after her and got up on his knees on one of the chairs and started going at it with better leverage. She watched for a moment and then stepped back into the kitchen.
Will gave her a little smile from where he was at the stove top, pushing a skillet full of chicken and onions and peppers around with a wooden spoon. She returned it and stepped towards him to give a small kiss on the cheek, caressing his other cheek lightly with her hand.
He turned his face and met her eyes as she pulled away. She could see the quizzical look in his eyes. He'd already picked up that she seemed a little off.
"Everything OK?" He asked, concern in his voice and creasing his brow.
"Just work," she said. "Tell you about it later." And she leaned forward again, this time catching his lips with hers, partially because she needed the contact and partially as a way to distract him from pressing forward with more questions.
She darted her tongue out a bit to caress his lips and he responded in kind, opening his mouth to her and allowing her to deepen the kiss. She needed those few minutes with him – and she ran her hands down his arms until she reached his waist. She tugged him to turn away from the stove and he complied again, and she pulled him firmly against her, letting her one hand find the back pocket of his plaid-printed shorts and the other rubbing the small of his back, just above his ass. He seemed content with the arrangement and ran his one hand up to tangle in her hair and angle her head a bit more to even give himself a bit better access to her mouth. She let herself enjoy it and feel the realness of it for a few minutes – to remind herself that she had this other stable, caring, reliable man in her life, who wasn't going anywhere. But then she pulled away a bit and broke it off – resting her forehead against his.
"You taste good," she told him quietly. She could see that got a little smile out of him. "What were you into?"
He rubbed his hands down her arms, squeezing them a bit. "Cherries."
"Mmm," she smiled and gave him a few short, closed-mouth pecks. "That's it. There any left?"
He nodded as she extracted herself from his embrace. "Yeah, in the fridge, but I'm not sure how well they'll go with fajitas."
She gave him another little smile, as she pulled open the door and examined what they had in their usually semi-empty but always health-conscious fridge. "Want me to make up some guac?" she offered.
He glanced at her and gave a smile. "That sounds fantastic."
She nodded and grabbed the ingredients and brought them over to the counter, pulling out a chopping board and a knife from their various locations in the kitchen. She washed the veggies at the sink.
"Are you going to want some tomato diced up for with your meal too?"
"Sure, I hear tomatoes go with everything," he said, and turned around to dance his sparkling grey eyes at her for a moment. "Endless possibilities."
She snorted and shook her head at him. It was a joke, from basically their first two weeks of knowing each other, that just wouldn't die. She was kind of glad it hadn't.
"Do you want lettuce for yours or anything else chopped?" she asked, as she started working away.
He shook his head. "Nah. I'm good."
She heard him click off the gas burner – she could tell that the food had almost been ready when she came in and she was kind of holding up the show now. But she liked getting some good oils and fats into her son – and she'd just prefer having some guac on her couple fajitas anyways.
He came over and leaned against the counter near her watching.
"You want me to help with anything?"
She shrugged. "You can chop the onion, if you want."
He nodded and grabbed another knife. He started to work next to her but still kept glancing at her sideways.
"I saw that signore futuro presidente only got caught on unlawful imprisonment."
She allowed him a small smile for his efforts at Italian but just nodded.
"Will he get much time for that?"
"Maybe a year – after the appeals game, if he gets time at all."
Will watched her again. "How'd your victim take it?"
"Hard."
"How are you taking it?"
Sometimes she wished Will didn't listen when she talked as much as he did – and that he didn't know her as well as he did.
"I'm OK, Will," she assured him.
He shook his head. "No, you aren't. Something's up."
She snorted at him. "Something is always up. That's just my job."
He scraped the diced onion into the bowl where she had mashed up the avocado – and looked at her again.
"Mmm. I don't get guacamole and mini make-out session when it was just a bad case or a crappy verdict. Usually I get the don't-touch-me body language."
She sighed and cut the lime in half, before squeezing it into the bowl with the homemade guac. She glanced at him as she did it.
"Elliot handed in his papers today," she said quietly, focusing on what she was doing instead of looking at him.
Silence hung in the air for a long time, to the point she had to glance at him to try to gauge what he was thinking. He looked confused and almost dazed about it. He shook his head at her as her eyes met his.
"What do you mean he handed in his papers? You saw him? He told you this – that he's leaving?"
"My captain told me. I didn't see him. It's final. He's retired from the Force. He's not coming back."
Will still seemed confused and kept opening his mouth like he was going to say something but apparently couldn't find words and closed it each time.
"Are you OK, Liv?" He finally managed to get out.
She allowed a thin smile at him at least being able to ask that and appreciating that he hadn't tried to say something else. But she shook her head, "No, I'm not, Will. Not really." She felt her eyes glassing again as she was forced to bring the hurt she was feeling back to the forefront of her mind.
Will looked down and rubbed at his temple – clearly still at a loss. But then he stepped forward and took the fork and bowl out of her hands, placing them on the counter, and then wrapped his strong arms around her. She let him and melted into his warmth for a moment, feeling his tight chest pressed against her, his arms protectively holding her close to him, and she rested her head on his shoulder though her face was turned towards his neck – and she breathed in his scent. She tried to let it all comfort her. It worked to an extent – yet it didn't. This wasn't something that just a hug could fix. She wasn't sure what could fix it.
Noah came back into the kitchen and held up a small hunk of cheese that was left from the full block he'd been working on grading when she'd first gotten home. She'd been so wrapped up in her own things she hadn't even been monitoring his efforts and her personal-distraction had clearly distracted Will as well.
"This part is too hard to shred," Noah declared.
She snorted against Will's shoulder and shook her head, letting go of him and taking the piece of cheddar, that had been so badly man-handled she wasn't sure any of them would really want to eat it, away from her son.
"I think we've got enough cheese, Noah," she told him. "Thank you for helping."
Noah glowed at the compliment and trotted back out to the table.
She glanced back at Will, who was still contemplating the floor, seemingly lost in thought. She wondered if that's what she looked like today to the rest of the squad room – or worse, if that's what she had looked like for the past three months.
"We can talk about it more later," she told him – and grabbed the bowl of guac and the small plate of diced tomatoes. "Com'on, put that filling in a serving dish. Let's eat."