AN: So this has been sitting around collecting dust on my computer for a while now.
Because we all want our two fave's to reunite.
I will try to post as often as I can, but some chapters are unfinished and others are just...well...shocking.
Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.
I apologise for any timeline/continuity mistakes.
Please read and review!
GB
xox
1
Sergeant Olivia Benson sat at the heavy walnut desk, a pen poised in her right hand, hovering, as she stared down at the blank, stark sheet that should have been filled with her messy scrawl by now, detailing and summarising the case they'd all been slogging their guts to build over the past three weeks.
She closed her eyes and leaned forward on her elbow, fingers pinching the bride of her nose as images of the beaten three year old flowed through her mind, haunting, torturing, leaving her name, Molly Baker, imprinted somewhere in her memory, etched into the deepest parts of her mind, scaring for life.
Everything, she decided, changes the moment you become a parent yourself.
Olivia inhaled deeply; an attempt at cleansing herself as the exhaustion that had been chasing her for the week finally begun to catch up with her, grabbing hold of her ageing body, sinking in bone deep and fogging her mind; an unneeded encumbrance as she tried to dredge a coherent thought from the depths of her brain. It was nights like these – when her body ached and she longed for a glass of wine, for a home cooked dinner and the comfort of her bed – that she missed being Detective Benson.
Olivia had been the commanding officer of the Special Victims Unit for few months, following Lieutenant Murphy's unforeseen departure, which wasn't very long in considering the span of her whole career, but it had been long enough for her to learn that the ever-growing mound of paperwork sitting on her desk never ceased to pile up, that the new role showed no leniency for an overworked, sleep deprived, single, new mother.
She sighed, dropping the pen down onto the awaiting form, and flexed her stiff fingers, before she reached up to rub softly at her tired eyes, smearing mascara and smudging eyeliner. She swiped a hand over her face as a haphazard attempt to correct the mess, and brought it down to settle over her mouth as she tried, and failed, to suppress a yawn.
The soft tap-tapping of knuckles against the wooden door frame nudges at Olivia's attention, and she lifted her head to bring pink-tinged, watery eyes up to meet Nick Amaro's.
"Hey," she greeted, stretching out her sore spine, then resting back in the large, office chair.
"Still here?" he asked rhetorically, stepping through into the office, one thumb hooked over the gun holstered at his hip, whilst the other scratched at his neck. Olivia offered a knowing smile and nodded lazily.
"Paperwork doesn't do itself." She gestured to the stack of forms spread in front of her, at the reports waiting for her to sign off.
"Anything I can help you with?" Amaro offered as he dropped into one of the visitors chairs, body slouching comfortably.
"Not tonight," Olivia declined as she glanced down at her watch, and then out into the dimly lit, quiet squad room. "The others head out?"
"Yeah, about an hour ago."
"We should probably follow suit," Benson sighed, because it was already past eight, her eyes were stinging and she felt the need for a long soak in a hot tub. "Don't you have Zara this weekend?"
"Maria cancelled," Nick said dismissively, as if it wasn't the third time this month. "Zara's got some party down in DC on Saturday that she can't miss."
"I'm sorry, Nick."
"It's okay," he replied, waving a hand through the air to dissolve Benson's sympathy as he threw a quick glance over his shoulder at the still open office door. He shifted a little in the seat, and Olivia's brow dipped a little, creasing her forehead, her eyes narrowed as she studied her partner, trying to get a read on his body language. He was tense, his hands fidgeted – fingers worked at a loose thread at the knee of his pants, nails scratched at his thick eyebrows, he rubbed at his eye, his nose. Olivia slipped the incomplete report into the manilla case file and added it to the top of the pile, before getting to her feet and moving around the large desk so she could lean against the front edge of it.
"Nick," she began, softly, encouragingly, as she folded her arms across her chest and dipped her head to catch his gaze, "Speak to me."
"Uh," he hesitated, "I don't know where to start." He ran a hand over his mouth – skin over day old stubble – and Olivia could see a silent war waging behind stormy pupils.
"The beginning is always a good place to start."
"Yeah," Amaro agreed. He got up and skirted around the chair, the soles of his shoes quiet as he moved to close the door for privacy, before stepping over to stand before the large window overlooking the still bull pen.
This is it, Olivia thought as she watched the Detective's back, his muscle tense under the cream button down shirt, this is what it's like to have someone quit on you.
Benson waited, patiently – a skill she'd learned well over the sixteen odd years of working with sex offenders, abusers and their victims—and she wondered if the unit could take another hit, could survive another loss, another change; if they could adjust to yet another modification to the structure of the team, or if this would would be their breaking point, enough to tip the barely balanced scales of Manhattan's SVU. She wondered if Amaro's resignation would result in the shattering of the squad – her squad – fragmenting the unit that had proven, over and over again, to work harder and better, than any other division in any other police department. Introducing Carisi to the mix had been hard enough, Olivia wasn't confident that they could all take the impact of Nick's sudden departure, too.
It only took a few moments of silence - a minute at most - and then Nick was taking a deep lungful of air and turning back to face her.
Four brown orbs locked onto each other.
"Okay," he sighed, breaking the silence. "So, uh, I know how you feel about this sort of thing; that personal lives should be kept personal; at home and out of the precinct. Which I get, by the way. It makes prefect sense; conflict of interest and all that." He paused his awkward rambling, eyeing her as if he's waiting for her approval to continue. She nodded once, a slow motion, as she tried to keep her brows from knitting together in confusion. Nick stalled, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, seemingly studying Benson's reaction to the information he still hadn't disclosed yet. He took another breath, and there was a swirling in the pit of Olivia's stomach as she watched the spark in Amaro's eyes dim, his shoulders square, jaw set determinedly, almost defiantly; a fast transition that she was used to seeing before he conducted an interrogation with a suspect.
"We have chemistry, right?" he questioned with a new confidence, steadiness, taking a small step closer as he pointed between their bodies.
"Well," Olivia began, slightly thrown by the question. Her arms unfolded, hands dropped to grip the edge of her desk.
"I know we've had a few minor, teething problems in the past, but I think we're okay now, right? We work well together, because we've...clicked," he continued, without giving her a chance to answer his seemingly rhetorical questions. "It's something that just happened, we had no control over it."
"Sure," she nodded, agreeing, albeit hesitantly.
"We're basically in a work marriage- at least, that's what Maria says – and she's not half wrong, because we know everything about each other. Well...almost everything," Nick said, and Olivia was starting to feel a little uncomfortable at the suggestion of their closeness. Maybe that was the point, maybe Amaro had decided they're too close, which was something that she'd tried to avoid, afraid of making the same mistake twice. Maybe he didn't want to quit, maybe he just wanted a new partner, and because she cared enough, understood, Olivia would have given that to him, should he ask.
"I'm also your boss, so if you're worried we're -"
"Exactly," he breathed, sounding relieved, "Which is why I thought we should wait-"
"We?"
"Yeah, Amanda wanted to tell you a few months ago -"
"Rollins?" She couldn't keep her brows from pulling together this time, as she tried to piece the puzzle together, match the small fragments of information together.
Suddenly, it all clicked into place.
She had suspected it for a few weeks now, but she hadn't said anything, brought it to the pair of Detectives, because it wasn't something she fancied bringing up at 1PP. And besides, though she didn't condone interoffice relationships – because they had never worked out for her in the past – what she didn't know (or in this case, have confirmed) couldn't hurt her.
Or them.
"Yeah, we've been -"
"Nick," she quickly cut him off, hands raised to halt him as she moved to stand before him. "Whatever you are about to tell me; don't."
"But -"
"No, listen to me," she commanded. "Whatever it is that you're dying to get off your chest, I don't want to know, okay? As long as whatever it is is kept out of the precinct, I don't care. Your personal life stays personal, got it?" She held his eyes for a moment, sternly, willing him to understand, for him to realise that she knew, that that is enough right now. A tongue flicked out and wiped across his lips, and then he was nodding, his posture softening, eyes warming again.
"Okay, Sarge. Got it."
Olivia breathed a sigh of relief, the corners of her mouth pulling upward slightly.
"Great," she said, "So if that was all, we should get out of here. If I'm lucky, I'll make it home for Noah's bath time." If she did, it would have been the first time that week.
Olivia crossed the office and unhooked her navy blue coat from the stand, draped it over her forearm and reached for the large black purse dangling on the hook below.
"How is the little bruiser?" Amaro asked, smiling, because he liked seeing Olivia's glow whenever the small, unexpected boy got mentioned; whenever she looked like a proud Mom.
"He's doing great," she beamed, as she opened her bag and plunged her hand into it, losing her arm up to her elbow, rummaging around as she searched for her keys. "Cutting a molar, but considering everything he's already been through, it's nothing he can't handle."
"Zara was a nightmare when she was teething," he chuckled fondly, eyes reflecting a distant memory. "I used to come to work just to get some sleep."
"It's not easy," Olivia agreed, pulling her hand from her purse, a mangle of metal and plastic clutched in her fist. "Do you need a ride?" She turned and started toward the door, swiping her glasses from the desk as she moved.
"No, I'm good, thanks."
"Okay," she said, reaching for the door handle, "Well, I'll see -" Her words came to an abrupt halt as she opened the office door. The blonde stood before her looked almost startled, her fist raised as if she was just about to knock, her eyes slightly wide, body angled back. Aquamarine orbs caught hold of Olivia's, the facets of the oceanic pupils sparking against the soft glow of the quiet squad room. Benson gripped her bunch of keys so tightly, she was sure the metal was cutting through the skin of her palm. It had been years since she'd last seen her – at least three or four – but there was absolutely no mistaking the identity of the woman standing before her, just shy of the threshold.
"Kathy."
It was hoarse, almost a whisper, because the shock of seeing the wife of her ex-partner was still squeezing her throat, pressing on her chest. There was a small, barely-there nod, as if she needed to confirm who she was, but it was not until Amaro stepped up beside Olivia, his arm brushing against hers, that she began to shake herself from the haze of surprise.
"Hey, everything okay?" he asked, and he sounded concerned enough, but Olivia had worked with him long enough to know when his mind was elsewhere. She looked at him, and he was watching her out of the corner of his eye, even as he addressed the middle-aged blonde blocking their exit.
"I need to speak with Olivia," Kathy replied, her eyes staying trained on Benson, and there was an intensity there that raised goosebumps across Olivia's skin.
Amaro turned to face her, his brow furrowed slightly, but even without the details, she knew his concern was misplaced.
"Liv?"
She cleared her throat, shook her head a little as she tried to silence the questions racing around her head; Why is she here? What's wrong? Is everything okay? Why me? What have I done? What has she done? Are the kids okay? Is she hurt? Is He hurt?
She shifted herself into her professional persona by way of self-preservation.
"Yeah," she answered Amaro, with a small head tilt, her gaze dropping as she scanned Kathy Stabler's body, searching for any indication of assault, whether sexual or otherwise. There was nothing; no torn clothing, no blood, no bruises, no cuts or grazes.
There was a silent sigh of relief.
"Kathy, what are you doing here?" she finally asked, her voice shaking only a little.
"Uh," she stalled, as if uncomfortable. "I need to speak with you."
"Okay," Olivia glanced around her office, as if checking for something, before stepping aside, leaving enough room for Kathy to pass between her and Amaro. Amaro took a small step back, widening the gap, his attention focused on Benson.
"Want me to stay?" he asked Olivia. She glanced at Kathy, noticed the way her shoulder tensed at the suggestion of the Detective baring witness to whatever it is that she wished to disclose to Benson, so she turned back to her partner, shook her head softly.
"No, it's okay, Nick. You can go home."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow," she dismissed, and it was almost more for her own sake than Kathy's that she didn't have him there. The smile she forced onto her mouth seemed to be just enough to convince him to leave her. "But, uh, can you do me a favour? Could you call Lucy -"
"Of course," Nick nods, before she could finish her request because he'd already planned to put the call in to Noah's nanny on Olivia's behalf.
"Thanks, Nick," she said appreciatively, and he nodded, accepting her gratitude silently, before stepping out of the office. She watched him for a second – just long enough to see him grab his coat from the back of his desk chair and pull his cellphone from his pants' pocket as he rounded the corner for the elevators.
She turned back to the room, to the woman she'd never expected to see again.
"Take a seat," Olivia said as she closed the door, before tossing her bag and coat on the couch under the interoffice window, and then moving over to join Kathy in one of the visitors chairs.
"I'm sorry," Kathy said, quietly, her hands fidgeting with the sleeve of her coat, "I know it's late and you were heading home."
"Don't apologise," Olivia hushed, and again, she was silently searching for traces of assault. "Did something happen? Has someone hurt you?"
"What?" The blonde's eyes widen. "No! God, no." She shook her head, brushed the loose strands of hair back from her face. "It's not...I'm not..." she hesitated, took a breath, and even though she was already sitting in the office, Olivia could see that Kathy was struggling with the decision to come here. "It's not me."
"Okay," Olivia nodded, straightening her back as she allowed herself to take in the woman before her. The last time she'd seen Kathy was at the Stabler home, on a hot July day, in 2011. She'd had to pick Elliot up for work, because his car was in the shop, and he'd overslept, and Eli was sick so Kathy had needed a ride to the doctor's office, too. It seemed a lifetime ago, but time had treated her well, because Kathy looked exactly the same as she did back then; her hair was shorter with a few more strands of silver, and she'd put on a couple of pounds, but she looked healthy, happy. At least, she would have if she wasn't chewing at the inside of her cheek, if her hands weren't fiddling in her lap, if her eyes weren't looking at everything but Olivia.
"You can tell me," Olivia prompted.
"Huh." Kathy released a huff of air, cleared her throat, and shifted in the chair to face Olivia, their eyes finally meeting. Her lower lip trembled slightly, chin wobbled and eyes glassed over as they filled with water that she tried to blink away. "It's Elliot, Liv. He's...gone."