Disclaimer: All characters belong to Dick Wolf. I own nothing. I don't even have the time to be writing this…yet here I am.
A/N: As I have said before, I don't ship E/O. However, I love those little moments of them as friends and I know that those can be read both ways. Therefore I know my writing can be read both ways. So have fun. ;) Please forgive any typos, as I am typing this very fast scrambling to post before tomorrow's new episode (!!).
Her face is half-buried in the pillow so that he's not sure how she can breathe. Elliot leans against the top bunk until his partner, sensing his presence, rolls over and blinks up at him. "Hey," she yawns, sitting up, a tired smile growing on her lips. "You back?"
"Yep."
"For real, back?"
"Yeah, Cap'n might sit me at a desk for a while but – "
"But I'll take what I can get," Olivia finishes, grinning. "I'd be more excited, but I'm exhausted. You chose a hell of a time to come back. Right after we crack the case."
"I did that on purpose."
"I know you did." She pats the bed and he sits, obedient. "You talked to Fin?" she asks.
"No, I think he's catching his sleep at home. Why?"
"Because he told me he thinks you showed restraint. Said if it was his kid he'd've gone all the way."
Elliot is silent, thinking about this; and she lets him be, sits with her legs curled under the sheets, yawning.
"I'll let you go back to sleep," he says eventually.
"Wasn't sleeping," she sighs. "Can't."
"Right."
"No, really. I thought I was gonna crash, that's why I stayed, but I just can't."
"Liv…"
"Don't."
Of course she doesn't want to talk about it. If what's bothering her is what he's thinking of, then she's keeping it to herself because she's Olivia and she thinks she has to be strong and crap like that. Elliot stands. "At least lie down," he says, clapping the metal bedpost as though this is some kind of reassurance. He can feel her gaze follow him out the door.
Down in the bullpen he gathers the files from her desk and a few that have slipped onto his for lack of space. It's six in the morning and slow, a fact for which he is extremely grateful as he climbs again the stairs to the crib. Some hunting unearths a chair, which he tips back against the wall next to Olivia's bed. She opens her eyes to frown at him. "What are you doing?"
"I can't concentrate down there." He cracks open the first file to play catch-up.
Flat on her back, she stares, annoyed. "What the hell do you want me to say, El? That I see him every time I close my eyes? Well, fine. I do. I can't sleep because four fucking months ago I came this close to being raped. Happy?"
He's not. His chest aches; he has to force himself not to look at her. "I want you to say," he mutters, "that I can sit here and read the files."
He counts her ragged breaths, staring unseeing at the page before him. Three, four, five. It's like chasing a cat. He has to wait for her to come to him.
"I'm seeing someone," she finally murmurs. "I'm a cop. I'm perfectly capable, competent – "
"Good," he corrects without looking up.
"I'm good. I'm a detective. And I'm seeing a shrink."
Elliot lets himself look at her now, takes in her wide eyes and hands clutching the bedsheets. "Liv. That's okay. Actually that's great."
"No it's not." She avoids his eyes.
"Yes, it is. Look, I need about three hands to count all the crap you've been through in the past year. You're allowed to let it affect you. I certainly wouldn't want my partner to be anything other than human." He pauses to catch her small smile and continues, "Strength is knowing when to get help. Look at me, Liv." He wants her to believe this, so he waits until she brings her gaze to his. "I'm so proud of you."
They both turn red; Olivia punches his knee but can't keep the grin from her face. "I guess I'm proud of you too. For not killing him."
"Yeah. Thanks, by the way."
She doesn't have to ask what for. "Well," she says, and yawns. "Otherwise we would've lost you."
He can feel the red persist. "Shut up and go to sleep."
"Do your work downstairs," she counters.
"I like it up here. Quiet."
"Bastard."
"Good night."
He knows when she truly falls asleep and glances up from his third file to tug the sheet up over her and consider actually going downstairs. He should, he should help Munch out and be at his desk in case they catch anything, but at the same time he should stay right here, because he can guess how long it's been since Olivia slept properly. Conflicting responsibilities – he's done this before. Pick one, take the leap, hope like hell it was an okay choice , because there's simply no way to make the right choice.
He's supposed to be the one to catch her when she falls.
He stays where he is.
The morning rush of cops and administrators reaches his ears as a low babble. Olivia hears it too and begins to toss restlessly. In her dreams, he supposes, the chatter has become something much more sinister. A muted cry escapes her and he drags his chair forward so he can grab her hand. Two seconds later it occurs to him to wonder if this is a good idea, but it seems to help. Elliot rubs his thumb over the back of her hand and pretends to a nonexistent audience that he wants the peace for himself and not for her. It keep her from making weird noises, that's what he'll say if anyone questions his propriety; and if they matter they'll know what he means.
As it happens Fin is the first to wander up to the crib. He spots Elliot first and smiles hesitantly, then sees Olivia, nods in understanding, and leaves. Elliot watches his retreating back and squeezes Olivia's hand. I'm sorry, he says to her silently, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you but I'm here now.
When she finally starts to stir he flees so that she won't bite his head off. Fin enters the squad room just as Elliot does, tossing a wrapped sandwich to his seated partner. "Got some for you and Liv," he says, and drops the sack on their desk.
A peace offering? "Thanks, man," Elliot says, trying to make the words mean more than usual.
He's not sure he succeeded, but Fin gives him a small smile anyway and turns his attention to Olivia, who is padding down the stairs. "Hey, Liv."
"Hey."
"You were out for a while," Elliot notes noncommittally as she sinks down across the desk.
Olivia narrows her eyes at him but says only, "Some of us were just working about twenty-two hours straight."
"And these two?"
"Probably fell asleep hours before I did," she mutters warningly.
Since he knows what's good for him, he changes the subject. "You busy tonight?"
"Guess."
"Only 'cause, Kathy invited you over for dinner. You know, as a thank-you for helping me keep my job."
"Mm-hmm. And these two?"
"She likes you better."
"I see." Olivia reaches for the deli sack, inspects the sandwiches, and hands him the one without pickles.
C'mon, he thinks in exasperation. Sure, she senses ulterior motives, but he's actually telling the truth. "Liv, when you get invited to dinner you're supposed to be excited."
"Still too tired," she yawns. "This dinner party include the kids?"
"They have to eat at some point, yes."
"Then I'm in."
"Oh, I get it. You like my kids better than me."
"Who doesn't?"
Later Elliot and Kathy will both swear up and down that they did not keep her talking so late on purpose. Kathy will look very confused when Olivia suggests the possibility. Elliot will roll his eyes. Lizzie will maintain that neither of her parents prompted her to ask, "Hey, can Olivia sleep over?"
But for now Olivia curls against the back of the Stablers' couch, trying to feel indignant. She's been tricked – she thinks. She pulls the blanket Kathy gave her up to her chin and tries to prove it to herself, that Elliot meant for her to stay the night in the hopes that she would sleep. The fault in her logic is that he's generally not that bright. She just can't tell.
Around her the house settles. Olivia has slept on her own couch often enough to be used to the little light on the TV and the hum of the refrigerator, but it is something else to hear a child's footsteps patter down the hall, to know that in this space other human beings are breathing the same night air. She wants to be annoyed with her partner, just on general principles, but somehow she can't feel anything but safe.
It's the strangest thing she's felt in months.
A sharp cry issues from upstairs and she starts, alarmed, before realizing that it's only Eli. Olivia lies there and calms the thuds of her heart, listening to the wailing as it is gradually replaced by a low humming, almost inaudible over her own harsh breaths.
The stairs creak. She marks the progress of the humming footsteps, into the fridge, in circles around the kitchen, pausing in the door way of the living room to peek in on her. Feeling very much like an eight-year-old, she closes her eyes and pretends to be asleep. There is a slight sigh and then the humming resumes, tuneless, and fades away up the stairs.
Olivia doesn't bother to open her eyes again, only to see the empty room. Her last thought before drifting off is how best to tease Elliot for his lullabies.
-finis-
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