A/N: I wanted to do a post-Underbelly, and after having some requests for a sequel to Postmarked Birmingham...I have decided to just do both. So, here it is. I got the idea from looking at some All American Rejects lyrcis.
He never meant to do it. Not really. It had been so long since he'd connected with anyone on any level. In the heat of the moment he'd let it happen and sitting there in his living room after having read the final letter, he wished to God it hadn't.
Two letters. Three words. It hit him harder than anything ever has. The last letter. So, he sits. Like he's been doing all night. Just sitting. The phone rests on the floor along with his stomach. He'd given up trying to muster the courage to call her hours ago. Wave upon wave of guilt washed over him until he was drowning; much like she most likely was. Drowning in the realization that things had changed while she was away. He'd let it change. He'd caused it to change.
He got the message when he got back to the precinct. The pink memo had been resting in the crack of his keyboard. He had thrown it away, much like their friendship. Tossed away to be dealt with once and for all. He didn't want it to be over, and as he read the last line over again, he knew he had to make it right.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he pounded down until his feet hit the bottom. He pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool air. He could see his breath as he made his way to his car. He rubbed his hands briskly a couple times before stopping. He didn't deserve to be warm. The car remained ice cold as he drove off into the night.
He arrived in record time. The one time he could use a red light or two to sort things out in his mind. He'd left the letter at home. He couldn't remember what the body had said, just that when he'd read the ending, he'd never felt like a bigger asshole.
He brought a hand up and hesitated before knocking three times. He stood back, giving her room to see who it was. Room to get a shot off if she wanted to.
The darkness of her apartment greeted him as the door opened. He rocked back on his heels when she left it open. The choice was his. He stepped over the threshold and kicked the door shut behind him. There was no going back.
"It's late." She turned the small knob twice and let the soft glow of the lamp light the room.
"You're up." It was a statement, rather than a question. She was upset. Hurt. Angry. All of the above. He knew she wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon.
"You knew I would be. You didn't leave her in the car, did you?" She resisted the urge to peer outside the window.
"She's not here. I don't know where she's at. Where's Fred?" He scanned the room. The coffee table was littered with the remnants of take out. From where he stood, the cartons looked full. The bag he'd given her lay by the couch, next to an accept pillow and her favorite throw. In the clutter of the room, he noticed the absence.
"Guest room." She plopped down on the couch and stared down at the patch of carpeting between her spread feet.
"Oh." He understood why she'd moved the glass bowl. How hard it was for her to look at the fish after her heart had been handed back to her. He hadn't been there when she'd stopped by, but just knowing she'd been there was enough. Enough for him to piece together what had been going through her mind. She knew.
"I guess you read it." She didn't have to ask. She knew the answer already. It wasn't as if she'd expected him to come running with open arms. She would have settled for a hug. A pat on the back. Anything.
"Yeah. I…I don't know what to say." He massaged the back of his neck. His hand was still cool but quickly warmed against the heat of his skin. He could feel his face grow red. He was ashamed of himself. Of the loss for words after she'd poured her heart and soul out to him. He'd waited two days to read it. Two days too late; that's what it was. It was too late, because he couldn't go back. He couldn't undo the hurt he'd caused his permanent partner by kissing his temporary one.
"You don't need to say anything, Elliot. I think I've said enough for the both of us." She shook her head, wishing she'd never put pen to paper. If only she could take the words away.
"I got a message you stopped by earlier." He went through the day's timeline. He could pinpoint when exactly she'd gotten there.
"I was going to ask for another week off. I thought if you weren't there, it'd be easier to do. Then I saw you and her and I…I asked for more time. I couldn't work with you if …if you…" Her voice trailed off. She didn't have to say it. She watched his head drop and heard him sigh.
"I'm so confused. I feel like I'm living someone else's life. Like this isn't happening. When did everything become so complicated?" He lifted his gaze and saw a small smile spread across her face.
"Stole my line." She raised her eyebrows and let looked at him expectantly.
"What now? If not next week, when?" He put the ball back into her court. It was up to her to decide when she was ready.
"I don't know. When I know that when I walk through those doors it isn't going to hurt like hell." She flipped through a few channels and settled on the news. She hoped to come across someone whose life was more screwed up than hers was.
"I kissed her. I don't know why, but damnit I kissed her." He didn't know why he said it. The timing couldn't have been worse. He saw something flash across her features before the mask went back on. His labored breaths filled the silence as he waited for her to speak. His palms were sweaty from his frayed nerves.
"Th…that's great." She nodded and turned her back to him. She cursed her inability to hide the small flicker of pain that she'd let show. She knew better than to assume he wouldn't notice.
"I'm so sorry, Liv. God, I…I'm just so sorry." He held his hands at his sides. All he wanted was to demand that she forgive him. Scream and shout until she believed that it was nothing more than the need to feel. The need to just…be.
"It's fine. Don't worry about it. I'm happy for you. I don't want to be, but I am. I am." She turned slightly, the light of the room giving away the tears that had started to fall. On a normal night, she'd brush them to the side. It wasn't an ordinary night, though.
"I went home and read your letter and I realized how far I'd pushed you away. I don't just mean Oregon. The past two days have been the hardest two days of my life. I knew you were back, but I guess in my head I couldn't accept that. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop." He patted his pockets for a tissue and came up empty. He was forced to watch the release of emotions as her breath hitched with each held sob.
"Yeah." She got it. Why he was waiting for her to leave again. He needed someone he knew would stick around. She'd have to accept that there was no more room for her. The force of the realization hit her, and she covered her mouth to muffle the sob before it had a chance to escape.
"Ca…can I hold you?" He inched closer. He couldn't bear to watch it any further. Standing there, she looked like a wounded animal.
"No." She shook her head, but didn't have the strength to fight him when he did, anyway.
"I know you're hurting and I know that I'm the reason. If I could take it back, I would. I can't, though. I can't." He kissed the top of her head and brought her face to rest against his chest.
"I'm sorry." She felt awful. The ache in her chest grew exponentially. She didn't want him to take back the one time in years that had made him happy.
"Don't be. You opened up to me. Don't be sorry for feeling that way. I'm not." It was true. He'd been more surprised than anything. He'd never expected the words, but it was as if he'd waited all his life to read them.
"But you…" She was confused. She didn't know which way was up. She just knew she was falling and she saw no end in sight to her plummet.
"I made a mistake, which I will regret for the rest of my life. But if you'll let me, I swear I'll live the rest of it trying to make this up to you." He gently pushed her back so that he could look at her face. He held her firmly by her arms and stared into her eyes.
"I…I don't know. I don't…I couldn't handle you being with her. I can't watch from the sidelines." She wondered when she lost the ability to understand what his every movement meant. A million things ran through her mind as he began to shake his head.
"No. God, no. I…I want you. I want you back, Liv. If you need time, then I'll give it, but I won't survive this. I won't." He squeezed the flesh of her arms just barely.
"I didn't have a backup. I never saw you after the day I gave it to you. I didn't have a Plan B. I just had that letter and I knew there was no doing it over." She squinted, wishing that what she was reading in his expression was all that she'd hoped to see. That, after reading how she felt, he'd still want her. As a partner. A friend. Anything.
"There are so many things I should say, but I can't think of them. I had it all rehearsed in the car." He let out a self-deprecating laugh.
"Yeah?" She looked at him, hopefully.
"Yeah." He held up a finger before getting up quickly.
"Wh…where the hell are you going?" She watched him leave and felt a sense of dread wash over her. He returned with the bowl in his hands.
"There." He set it on the table and wrapped his right arm around her. It felt like a drive-in movie, only his parents weren't waiting on him to return. He had nowhere to be.
"Thank you for coming." She rested her head on his shoulder and listened to his breathing. It faltered once. Twice. Then he spoke.
"Hey, Liv?"
"Yeah?"
"Me, too."