"Always did have bad timing," she remarks, and he laughs, because he knows she doesn't really mean it, and is just trying to find a way to deal with it, the same way he is. So he shakes his head at her, as they sit across from each other at their desks, alone in the squad room, because Munch and Fin are gone, and neither of them know where the hell the other two detectives went, and honestly, neither of them really care.
"I know," he says. "I just…it's strange, you know?"
She knows, but at the same time, she doesn't. She's never had children of her own, but he has, and she knows this, because she's known his kids for as long as she's known him. And she knows it's been fourteen years since the last two. If it's throwing her for a loop, it's gotta be throwing him for one.
"Yeah," she says, finally. "I know." And again, she does, but she doesn't. And she looks at her partner then, but he says nothing, and she can see something there that's been missing for quite a while. It's back again. She gives him a sideways look and he notices, looking back at her.
"Something wrong?" he asks, and she shakes her head.
"No," she says. "No, nothing's wrong."
And he wonders if she's lying, because it almost feels like she is, but then she grins at him, and goes on. "I'm not the one who's in for it later on."
He laughs, again, because she has a point, and he knows it. "Thanks, Liv," he says. "That really helps."
"Thought it might. Now do you mind doing your half of the paperwork? I'm not looking to live here for another six months."
He does it, because he's bored now, and because he doesn't want to stay there either. He wants to go home.
When the announcement is made to the squad, he notices her smirking, and rolls his eyes as the comments come, one by one. Most of them are congratulatory, others are more…inappropriate than anything else, but the squad is what the squad is, and he doesn't care.
"So," she says, once everything's been said and done, "How does it feel, knowing you're about to be a father, again?"
He doesn't know. Part of him is thrilled, but the other part is wondering what the hell they were thinking, five kids on a cop's paycheck and heaven only knows what can happen. He tells the other side to shut up, and for once it listens to him, unlike before.
"I'm not sure," he says, and really isn't. "I haven't had time to think about it yet."
They haven't, either, she muses, the squad's been running them all into the ground lately, the cases, and the victims, and everything in between, and now, this has come along, something wonderful in a world where everything else seems so awful.
"'Least you know this one will be raised by people who love him, or her," she remarks finally. He gives her an amused look.
"Would that I could say the same for every child born into this world," he says, and looks at the pen he's had in his mouth for the past few minutes. "Hand me another pen, will you?"
She's there when he starts doubting himself in the middle of the night, and shows up at her apartment, holding a bag, and a cup of coffee which he pushes at her as he walks inside.
"Figured it was the least I could do for waking you up," he mumbles, almost inaudibly. She takes the bag and peers inside. Chocolate. Her partner knows her too well.
"What's up?" she asks, though she has the feeling she already knows. He looks at her, and she can tell he hasn't been sleeping, the damn liar, he'd told her he was going up to the crib every day for the past five days, so he could catch an hour or two of sleep, but no. She pokes at him until he goes into the living room where he sits, and buries his face in his hands.
"I don't know if I can do this."
And she feels something inside her snap, then, because if Elliot Stabler can't handle a child, then she doesn't know who can.
"Look at me," she says, when she sits beside him, and he does. She offers up a faint smile and tears open the bag of candy, to share with him.
"You'll do fine."
He kicks her foot under the desk, and she kicks him back. They've been at it for the past few minutes. He's waiting for her to break and tell him to 'Cut it out, Stabler', like she normally does, but she's being stubborn, and so is he.
"I'm not giving you another pen, Elliot," she says, finally, not what he was expecting, but still.
"Why not?" he asks, because he can't find his, and needs one, and besides that, feels like being obnoxious. She glares at him, but the amused look he can see in her eyes tells him she doesn't really mean it. He smirks. She shakes her head.
"Because you chew them, and it's disgusting," she says, with a note of finality that tells him the debate is over, for the moment.
And then there is silence. He pushes at her foot. She pushes back.
A few minutes later, a pen misses his head by half an inch. He looks up, startled, and she laughs.
The call comes in the middle of the night. He answers, because it's her, and because it's work. And so he goes into Manhattan, and meets her.
"Should've called Munch or Fin," she says, which makes him wonder why.
"What've we got?" he asks, slowly. She motions towards the medical examiner.
"I don't think you're gonna want to…" she starts, but it is too late. He has already seen. And he looks away, because it upsets him and he feels her hand on his shoulder as he does.
"I'm sorry," she says, quietly, and he knows she means it. "I really should've called one of the other two."
And she feels awful because she didn't, because she'd known the minute she showed up that this isn't something that her partner needed to see. But she'd pressed the speed dial without thinking, like she always did, and now he's here, and there is no erasing the image in either of their heads.
"No," he says, finally, and she can tell it's all he can do to keep his voice from breaking. "No, it's…it's fine."
But it isn't, really, and both of them know it. They watch as the medical examiner kicks the cooler away from where they are, in a rare display of emotion on the scene.
And then they watch as she leaves, the body bag at least ten times too large for what it contains: a child, at best a few hours old, who will never have the chance to live.
He's moody, and she can't blame him. The case has gone nowhere. It's the four of them together, the two of them, and Munch and Fin, because things are slow for once, and none of them have anything else to do. She catches him staring at a picture of his children, but says nothing. And finally, he speaks.
"You know, we deal with stuff like this every damn day, and yet it still hurts." He's quiet, almost inaudible, and she has to lean in to hear him. She sighs.
"You said it yourself," she said. "When you get used to it, it's time to leave."
And he offers up a faint smile, because he knows he said that, and he's so used to her throwing his words back at him that sometimes, it's almost funny, but he can't really find anything to laugh at this time around. He thinks of his family, of the little one that will be here before the winter is over, and it isn't even winter yet.
"I'm not used to it yet," he says, and finds it a relief, because sixteen years in the same place, and he'd think that he'd be used to it, but something…something keeps it from happening.
She looks at him, and shakes her head. "Good," she says, and he gives her a startled look.
"Why's that?"
"I don't feel like breaking in a new partner."
She drags him out for a drink a few nights later, because it's early, and the captain's let them off, and they've found a lead, and it looks like this case is going to be headed to the courtroom and to Casey pretty soon. He pretends to fight her on it, but she knows he isn't really, and as they sit across from each other, there is silence between them, for a long, long moment.
"So, how's she doing?" she asks, and he knows she means Kathy, and so he smiles and leans back in the chair.
"Well, she's not in shock anymore," he says dryly, and both of them laugh, because it's oddly amusing, for reasons neither of them can figure out at the moment.
"That's good," she says. "And the kids?"
He makes a face, but laughs again, anyway. "They've all learned that they can beat me at poker. I'm not too sure that's a good thing."
"Never did have a good poker face when it comes to them," she says, and he rolls his eyes.
"Not in front of them, anyway," he replies. "I don't think I've laughed that hard in a while."
And she listens to this, and chuckles, because her partner is almost the way he was before the past two years, and it's a relief. She knows she's not the only one that's wished all the anger issues would go away, and while they're there under the surface, they're starting to become not as obvious.
"We should play sometime," she says, finally, smirking at him. "You and me, and Munch and Fin…maybe Casey…"
He shakes his head at her. "You're awful."