Our feelings don't matter.
The words cycled through her head now, an endless abyss of cynicism. It held her within its depths, entrapping a part of her that wanted and needed to believe in something more. She could feel it dragging her under as each syllable resonated deep within her.
Last time I was here...was under very different circumstances.
Olivia's hand was trembling as she held the stem of the glass in her hand under the running water. But no matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn't take any of it back.
You helped me out with that mess with my brother...and I think that it's time I properly thank you.
As the image in front of her began to blur, Olivia felt the glass slipping from her fingertips. She turned away abruptly, not even stopping to notice as it shattered into tiny shards. She pressed her back into the countertop, letting her fingers mold around the edge as she fought to steady her breath.
What the hell was wrong with her?
Olivia didn't do relationships. She didn't get attached. And she sure as hell didn't let her guard down. So why couldn't she shake this off? Why was she sitting here in her damn kitchen on the verge of tears over two wine glasses left over from an undercover assignment.
"Olivia."
A knock at the door shattered her reverie. Olivia's head snapped up and for a brief moment, a knot welled up in her throat until recognition took hold. Unconsciously, as if by habit, she turned off the still running faucet and hesitantly turned toward the door. Her footsteps were slow and deliberate as she crossed the kitchen into the front entryway. She felt her fingers curl around the knob as she slid the lock off.
She threw the door open before heading back into the kitchen and started to gather the shards of glass from the sink.
He stepped through the doorway cautiously, his eyes scanning the living room before settling back on her. Her back was to him, but she could still feel his piercing gaze. Damn him.
"Liv." He swallowed hard. "You okay?"
Her jaw tightened, her back stiffening ever so slightly, and she forced herself to take a deep breath before finally whipping around. "Why, El? You need another reason for interfering with my love life?"
"Liv, that's not what I..."
The glare she shot him could have frozen hell over. He snapped his mouth shut, his eyes scanning hers for some hint of what she was feeling.
She sighed, crossing the kitchen with long strides and taking a seat on one end of the couch. "I don't know which one of my neighbors keeps letting you in, but when I figure it out I swear..."
A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as he sat down beside her.
"Damn it, El. We are not doing this."
"Doing what?"
Olivia turned her glare back toward him. "This. I don't need you checking in on me. I'm fine."
Elliot nodded quietly. "Okay." He stood up abruptly and watched as her eyes followed him. He turned his back to her, walking over to the fridge. Pulling open the door, he took two bottles of beer out and tossed her one from across the room.
Her head shot up in surprise as she caught the bottle flying through the air. "What the hell was that?"
He smirked, sliding down next to her on the couch. "I wanted a beer."
She glared back at him, pushing the beer away from her and resting her bare feet on the edge of the coffee table. As she turned her gaze away from him and waited for him to answer, silence ensued. God damn him. Somehow the silence pissed her off even more than his self-righteous smirk. Olivia drew her lower lip in and finally reached for the beer in front of her. "I was just doing my job, El."
"Okay." His lips slid into a smile. "You know you can pretend it was just the job all you want, but it's not going to change the fact that you screwed up."
She sat upright, her feet planted on the floor and slammed the bottle in her hand on the coffee table so hard the liquid sloshed out from the top. "Excuse me?" she countered.
He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. "You screwed up, Olivia. You got too damn close."
"I got too damn close?" Olivia's voice was rising and she didn't care. She stood up, towering above him. "You're the one who couldn't stand to hand over a shred of evidence to the feds."
Elliot stood eye to eye with her. "Yeah, well maybe if you hadn't had blinders on every time Porter came within a five mile radius you might have noticed that there was a good reason not to hand over evidence to the feds."
Olivia's face paled. She swallowed hard. "Get out."
Elliot hesitated. "I'm sorry. That's not what I meant." He reached over for her arm as she started to back away from him.
"Get your hands off of me." Olivia staggered backward, throwing all of her weight against him.
His arms immediately dropped to his side in defeat. He swallowed hard. Somehow through the anger, he saw her. Saw her pain, saw her tears, saw the part of her that she would never admit to anyone else. And it broke his heart. "Olivia?" His voice was rough, broken.
She turned away from him, her shoulders trembling and stepped back further. "I'm not doing this, Elliot."
Her voice was strong, but he heard the weakness in it because he knew her. He knew her strength was held together by her anger-knew that she would never let him see her break down because she'd never admit to anyone else she was hurting. He knew that whatever happened with Porter went far beyond whatever she'd let him see. Into a chasm full of everything that she needed to keep hidden. There was a tenuous line he didn't dare cross because he was too afraid of the answer waiting for him on the other side. It was a crack in what had once seemed full of stability and strength. A crack that he didn't have the slightest clue where it began or ended, but the thought of it breaking was enough for him to tread lightly across it. It was a crack that he desperately wanted to understand because without understanding he knew he could never begin to repair it.
Olivia's eyes darted back and forth, her body tense, ready for flight. She watched him give in, watched his eyes soften with understanding and wondered how long it would be. How long before he gave up on letting her hold her secrets? How long before he finally realized the truth and what it had done to her? How long before he realized she would never be the same again? Olivia took a deep breath, silently moving across the room to take her seat again on the couch.
The room was filled with silence as he offered her the abandoned bottle of beer from the coffee table. She closed her eyes, tipping the bottle back and wishing that it might begin to drain away the remnants of images she couldn't seem to shake. And he sat beside her again.
Silent. Listening. Waiting. For the answers that would never come. For the beginnings of a conversation he didn't know how to begin, let alone end. For the support he didn't know how to give her. The same support he knew she didn't know how to accept.
"You only have two beers in the fridge." His words, when offered, were the unspoken opening he knew neither one would ever take. But it served as the apology that both were too stubborn to give. To accept. It served as the unspoken language that lived on when all else failed.
"Does that mean we're going out?" Olivia ventured quietly. She glanced over at him. The trembling had disappeared from her shoulders. The unshed tears gone before they ever were allowed forward. The fingers wrapped calmly around the single bottle in her hand.
"Are you buying?"
Olivia smirked back at Elliot, throwing back the rest of her drink. She stood up and snatched her jacket from the hook behind the door. "I already did…last two beers were on me. It's your turn now."