Inspired, clear to you if you're a Sara fan, by Sara Bareilles Manhattan.
There was just something about this song, and I couldn't figure out what exactly it was, besides the fact that it's Sara Bareilles so of course it's beautiful and genius and I'm obsessed, that kept drawing me back in. I kept listening to it, over and over, pretty much at least two or three times a day, till finally, literally one night lying in bed blogging about them pesky ole otps of mine, I realized that it reminded me of Liv and El. Obvious reason, Manhattan, less obvious but still really obvious reason is that if somehow some way both Liv and El ended up living in Manhattan, aka after that divorce he got after he left svu, even though that's so not where this is set, cause come on we all know Kath wouldn't be able to handle having him around that much, especially not with that not so well oiled, kinda not functioning so hot head of his you know he'd have, she's the one I saw leaving. After all, she's the runner. *Cough cough* Oregon.
Anyway, so I figure out it's them that keeps drawing me back, so, what else to do? But write this kinda half assed just cause it's not betaed and it kinda changes pov down there towards the end for a while and it's really probably not the best cause I kinda just wrote as it came and didn't really think about it, story. Yay, me!
Wow, a London Tipton moment. Low.
Okay, so back on track. It's set sometime season twelve, post season twelve but only if Jenna hadn't happened cause I ain't even trying deal with that cause this story's a hot mess all of its own, I don't know. Just, somewhere in their twelfth year of partnership cause that's just what came out and sadly, up until the end, was one of their less dramatic years. Now that's saying a lot. But its multi chapter, but as of now, I got no idea how many. Like a said, spur of the moment, mid lying in bed, mid blogging plot bunnie/song inspiration.
So yeah, now that I drug that out way too long, sorry, y'all, Enjoy!
R&R, babes, it's always appreciated.
Disclaimer: Nope.
Oh, btws, I do recommend at least listening to the song first, you don't have to listen to it while you read, cause the story is slightly, maybe a bit more than slightly, longer than the song. But give it a listen first, cause it'll give ya an idea of what's going on here.
You can have Manhattan, I know it's for the best.
I'll gather up the Avenues and leave them on your door step.
I'll tip toe away, so you don't have to say, you heard me leave.
The decision isn't one that she never saw herself making, it's just one that, in the early years, she couldn't fathom. Moving from the city that, even in its darkest hours, its cruelest days, its harshest nights, still somehow brought her joy. Taking every lesson she ever learned, every hard fall on her ass, and every triumph she was lucky enough to get, and pack them all up in her suit case and take off for sun, sand and warm air. And a coast that didn't contain him.
You can have Manhattan, I know it's what you want.
The bustle and the buildings, the weather in the fall.
And I'll bow out of place, to save you some space, for somebody new.
You can have Manhattan, cause I can't have you.
There was a time where even leaving Manhattan terrified her, because her love for it burrowed so deep. A time where not living 3 minutes from constant coffee or a terrible but convenient hotdog, or living in a place where you couldn't order Chinese at 3 in the morning, made her stomach churn. But she'll probably always say it, no matter what it is, or no matter what happens, he's always changed a situation. Any situation, every situation, his presence in her life and her mind has always altered and affected things. From day one. And it just got progressively worse over the years. Chronic reason number 4,000 why she's still, and mostly always has been for the last 12 years, single.
He met someone new. 6 months after his divorce was final, at a coffee shop, their coffee shop, before work one morning. Her names Amanda. She's a Vet. It makes her want to throw up.
They've lasted three months. Sometimes it really hurts her heart, and sometimes it makes her want to deck him in the face. Sometimes it makes her want to deck herself in the face.
You can have Manhattan, the one we used to share.
The one where we were laughing and, drunk on just being there.
Hang on to the reverie, could you do that for me?
Cause I'm just too sad to.
You can have Manhattan, cause I can't have you.
When he moved, he moved six blocks from her. It was nice, having her best friend in walking distance. It made getting that drink after work that they never used to actually get, a lot easier. Sometimes it made her feel guilty though, because she felt like he should be home calling his kids or doing something else Catholic that didn't feel so sinful. But sometimes she just enjoyed her best friend. And sometimes she waited for the other shoe to drop because it was all just too damn good to be true.
And so it goes, one foot after the other, til black and white begins to color in.
And I know, that holding us in place is simply fear, of what's already changed.
It shifted one day. It shifted and everything fell the hell apart. Her world spun around and knocked its self-off its axis, and everything started to hurt. He corned her in the locker room one day because she had been acting snippy and bitchy towards him all day and he 'wanted to know why, damn it.' She had no idea what to tell him. She knew why, and it was 5'2, tiny, blonde, so severely her partner's type that she couldn't take it, and had just been here to have lunch with him. He started naming all these things, all these things he thought it could be, asking her what he did wrong cause he was sick and damn tired of her attitude and he, oh so very Elliot like, wanted to fix what he wronged. She couldn't get the words to come out of her mouth quick enough to tell him before he guessed. She doesn't think she's ever looked so shocked or horrified in an unwork related social setting, ever. He saw the surprise flit onto her face, but he saw the guilt too. He knew he was right and it pissed her off and terrified her at the same time. She was busted and she had no way out, she was suffocating.
He tilted his head and squinted his eyes and did that thing he does when he's got her in his hands and he knows it, and he backed her further against the locker she was standing in front of when he busted in behind her.
"It's Amanda, isn't it?" He asked her, tilting his head even further, and raising his signature eyebrow.
"No, Elliot, it's not."
"Yes, it is."
"No."
"Don't lie to me, Olivia." She doesn't think she ever remembers his voice going that low. He takes two more steps, then makes another shuffle.
"What's so wrong with her, huh?"
"Nothing, El. Not a damn thing."
"No really, tell me. Is it cause she's happy and not so damn cynical all the damn time? Because she doesn't think the whole damn worlds so dark?"
"Talk about calling the damn kettle black." She mumbled.
"Or is it because she's with me?" Revise that earlier statement about a surprised look. This one takes the cake.
"You literally have to be kidding me."
"Yeah, Liv. Do I though?"
He's close enough now that she's pressed so hard against the locker that she can feel the combination lock digging into her ass.
But then he floors her again.
His hands come up beside her, one on each side of her head, and he leans in.
"Are you really that jealous? Or is there more?" Eyes squinting again.
Silence. She can hardly hear herself think above her heart beating so loud, let alone speak.
"Don't tell me it's because you always thought it would be you?" Head tilting again. He's got her now and she can see he knows it.
"You always thought you'd be my rebound."
Confusion, nervousness, hurt, fear. All swirling around in her head so fast she could hardly stand. She didn't know what to do, how to move, how to get away from him. How to bail before he saw through her last little bit of reverence she had left.
He locked eyes with her and she felt him slowly start to shift. The he was gone, standing a good 5 inches back from her. He started shaking his head and moving further away from her. Pulling a signature move and running his hand up over his face and back down the back of his head a few times.
"Un uh. I love you too damn much for that, Liv. Woulda thought you'd known better."
Her breath caught in her throat for a second, and she lost all ability to think at all, but when her cognizance returned to her, her brain grasped what he must mean. And she understood. Or so she thought.
"I love you too, El. But-"
"No."
"What?'
"No. I don't think you get it, Olivia."
"Sure I do, it's just-"
"No you don't." He moves back toward her and slams his hands back up beside her.
"Damn it, I'm in love with you Olivia and I don't know why the hell you refuse to fucking see that. But I'm tired of it. I'm tired of waiting for you to get it, or for you to get over the damn guilt I know you're feeling or to finally stop dancing around it and get to the fucking point."
"I waited because I know you're the runner and I wasn't going to scare off the only chance I might ever have but I got tired of waiting, Liv. I got tired of waiting so when Amanda asked for my number I thought what the hell, what could it hurt? But apparently I should have just told her that yes I was available, but no she couldn't have my number because I'm in love with my partner who refuses to acknowledge what's there between us. I don't really know, Liv. But I do know that I'm still tired of waiting and I'm not gonna wait anymore."
"So here's your chance now. Run." He stood back and opened up his arms, offering me an opening out. I didn't take it. Instead I just stood there looking dumb founded and confused. Maybe a little in love, too.
I guess my silence and my stillness gave him the answer he needed, because then he had me pressed hard against the locker again and his face was in front mine and his eyes were locking with mine and his head was leaning in closer, and closer, and closer, and my heart was beating faster, and faster, and faster, then he was kissing me. Passionate and fast and hard and wonderful and I don't think another kiss like that with anyone one else out there could ever exist.
You can have Manhattan, I'll settle for the beach.
And sunsets facing westward, with sand beneath my feet.
I'll wish this way, this missing of days, when I was one half of two.
You can have Manhattan, cause I can't have you.
Thinking back on that day, it makes it twice as hard leaving, and it makes it twice as easy. Never really definite, always somewhere in between there but with and undertone of gone. Like them, partners, and friends, but oh so much more. Something that started in her heart and that she could never quite put a label on. Something that pushed her and pulled her, rose her up and knocked her back down again. This ever persistent tugging at her heart that made he want to jump in the Hudson, just to take a swim sometimes. Her plan all along was to leave it all behind, forget about it, every single thing about it, about them, about all the hurt and love and anger and passion and just create this wonderful, or at least vaguely satisfying life that had nothing to do with, and nothing for the old one.
Of course though, that's not how it happened. She really should have known better though, she's smarter than that.
TBC