Thanks to jenbachand for the beta.
Sometimes, all she wanted was the wet speed of a car over pavement at 3 AM. The slick, sweet sound rushing past her ears as she treaded just on the cusp of sleep. The sound of the machine against nature, the resonance of water on rubber on pavement; it made her forget that someone was driving the car, that there was someone manipulating the movement, the speed of the sound.
Sweet maple leaves, like sugar and old fire, the scent filled up her lungs and she held it there, deep, deep until her ribs felt like they might crack with the pressure of it. Only when a chilled breeze rolled over the sill did she release it, the curtains seeming to ruffle with the minute force of it.
Autumn, it always stung her in the very worst ways.
From her stomach to her back to her stomach once more. There was no finding comfort. There was nothing like the way cheap scotch settled in the pit of your stomach, slammed into your head, to make you reminisce... make you get bitter about it.
"I divorced her... she divorced me, I don't... Liv, she made me hate myself." He'd told her that, no prompting, nothing, just a warm car and tepid coffee on a cold night at a stakeout in Queens. "She made me fucking hate myself."
He'd made to go on but then she'd said-"That's our guy," and hopped from the car, masquerading the goose bumps on her arms as wind chill.
That's what she thought about as the curtains billowed around her open window. She should knew better, don't leave your window open, ever... but she liked the simple pleasures. Hiding beneath a mountain of blankets, her thoughts pillowing softly around her.
Cragen, "Doingthis makes you do things, Olivia, it makes you... makes you..." he told her over a low glass of chilled club soda. Eyeing her beer, he'd continued, "Don't... just..." and the low light of the bar caught his eye when he looked up at her. "Just think."
Tucking the cheap down and cotton under her chin, Olivia curled her legs beneath her, trying to drive the sudden seizing cold that infiltrated her bones. "Just think."
She didn't want to think, she didn't want to think about it, and so instead, she focused on the way her head felt (heavy) and the way her stomach felt (queasy) and the way her heart felt (she couldn't feel it; was she supposed to be able to?).
She focused her bleary, bloodshot eyes on the window treatment once more. Olivia willed her body to set and settle, calm and slumber. It did not come, not even the faint pulling of the eyes that generally manifested itself after an entire day spent awake.
A small, shrill cry and she thought it was from one of the anonymous cars outside, so she ignored it. Another tinny cry and Olivia twisted her frame around, tangling herself in the sheets, though making it to her phone.
"Hello?" she shoved the hair out of her eyes; it just felt like the thing to do.
"You aren't actually asleep, are you? It's barely three," came the voice from the other end of the line, gruff, tried, and hopeful.
Olivia was on her back again, clutching the phone to ear, as though it was about to fly away. "What?"
"Your lights are out. You're not sleeping… or you're somewhere else… not sleeping."
The flippant tone from him let her know that he hadn't been sleeping either. Legs scissor over one another, body rigid but malleable, she tries to figure out how to lay, whether to sit up at attention.
Back on the pillow, her head as unsteady as her thoughts, touching her phone too delicately, "Where are you?"
The other side of the line offered a pause, the man holding the other phone offering a cough, "In my car, outside. Couldn't sleep."
"You couldn't just call?" was her immediate question, and she regretted it almost as quickly as she'd said it.
The breeze that passed by her mouth was audible from his end of the line; sharing the same air. It seemed more tangible now. "I am calling."
"Yeah," she breathed, a hand passed over her eyes, skimming over her nose, scrubbing her mouth. "I'm coming down."
Olivia wasn't going to bother changing; there was no point. He'd seen her in less, in far worse. Sweatpants over shorts, a sweatshirt over a ratty tee-shirt, keys clutched in her sweaty hands, she walked solemnly down the stairs to him.
Upon thrusting the outer door open, the cold air hit her hard, parching her lungs, but she stepped out onto the stoop and waited for the door to 'click' shut behind her.
You could never be too careful…
In worn tennis shoes, she tread across the pavement towards him, arms across her chest as though to ward off the whip of winter; she wasn't cold, not really, not anymore. Shoes against the wet pavement, making no sound save for the occasional semi-crunch from the semi-dry leaf.
Fingers curled around the door handle, Olivia slammed her eyes shut and pulled, the door giving with a barely-audible 'click'. "Baby keeping you up?" she blew hot breath against her hands, then shoved them between her thighs to warm them.
Elliot stared out of the car; palms lay loosely on his thighs. "Yeah, something like… no, the baby, she doesn't… this one's not a crier. Kathleen was a crier…" His head fell back against the seat as he squeezed his eyes shut.
"Just think…"
"It's 3 am, you should be sleeping, I should be sleeping. Why… El…"
Blowing a hard breath out through chapped lips, Elliot rolled his head so that he faced her. "I drive over here when I can't sleep. Don't know why… don't really question it. I just, I… shit." The soft rain once again picked up, smattering against the windshield.
Plip, plop, plip, a sigh and more of the plip, plop, plip of water on thin glass.
Olivia wasn't sure there was much more to say, and the damp silence that fell between them made her feel the slightest bit uncomfortable; she squirmed and bit her lip, cast a sideways glance at her partner and reached for the handle. "We keep doing this, and not talking and… I should get to bed."
Intending to get out of the car, she opened the door, but was halted when he put his hand on hers. "Can I come up?"
The buzzing in her ears and the sound of downpour nearly drowned out her answer.