Ok, I finally got off my butt and finished something. Well, a chapter at least. Forgive any errors, as I'm too impatient to wait for a real beta before posting. Thank you Kait for reading and encouraging. :)
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Olivia steps out of the bath, wrapping a towel around herself with her still shaky hands. The day had been too much for one person to handle. She not only survived a near fatal car crash, she saved her partner's ex-wife and their new son.
Wife, she reminds herself. Wife, not ex. There's nothing ex about someone who just gave birth to a fifth child in a twenty-two year marriage.
She wipes the fog off her mirror, taking in her appearance. She spies the mascara tracks, and she decides to swear off makeup. What's the point? Who are you gonna impress? Munch?
She allows herself a slight smile, but that's all. This is no time for happiness. That time might never come again.
The bruise on her shoulder is purple and deep. She imagines that it looks something like her heart. She touches it gently, wishing for physical pain to mask that which she cannot handle.
Her thoughts travel back to that afternoon, that fateful hospital hallway. She'd stood for nearly an hour, waiting for Elliot. Although, if she were honest with herself, it was as much about Elliot as it was about avoiding Kathy and the awkward adoration she was doling out.
When he'd just brushed past her, an impressive feat considering she'd all but blocked his way, her heart had dropped to her stomach. She'd spent the whole time he was in with Kathy thinking he blamed her. But he'd come out, all smiles, and she couldn't help but grin back. Always a proud papa.
Olivia had tried for a business-as-usual approach, but he shot that all to hell. When he spun her around, and held her...
No. Do not go there, Benson.
Unfortunately that was the only place her mind wanted to go. The warmth of his embrace, his smell, the safety she had felt. She shakes her head to rid her mind of those thoughts. Get a grip.
As she brushes her teeth, her mind starts to wander back down its forbidden path. What the hell. Might as well savor it, 'cause it will never happen again. His strong hold on her seemed to suggest a bond stronger than partnership, but she would never dare herself to hope. She was a woman destined to be alone.
Besides, they still had a good, five, ten years as partners?
Suddenly, she was back on the side of the road, cradling him. Comforting him. Fast forward to that same hospital, to the fear that she had lost him in every way that counted.
That thought had her wanting to punch something. Maybe she was more like Elliot than she thought.
At least there's a sliver lining. Elliot hasn't come to break down my door and force me to talk. Although, why would he? He has a newborn son and a recuperating wife, thanks to me.
All she wants is to crawl under the covers and sleep until Monday. Cragen had given her a long weekend, and she'd be damned if she didn't take advantage of it. However, sleep would not come to her. She tosses and turns, fluffed pillows, but nothing helped.
She comes to the conclusion that her queen-sized bed is just too big for her tonight. Tonight, she was lonely. Longing for a life she'd never have. No amount of blanket-hogging was going to fix that. Olivia grabbed her pillow and trudged to the couch. Perfect fit for a single.
She snuggles her back into the leather, burrowing underneath layers of blankets, hoping to feel even a shred of the warmth that Elliot's grasp had given her. It wasn't loving, it wasn't even comforting, but it would have to do.
Olivia Benson. Bedding for one.
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He'd never really given a shit one way or another about his partners. Maybe it's because he'd always been the junior to a grumpy old man. The second Olivia Benson had wandered into his life, he felt a slight shift. Nothing earth-shattering, just an innate knowledge that this woman was going to change his world someday. Someday soon.
In all honesty, he hadn't expected her to become all that she was to him now. He thought that maybe, they would be friends outside of work. He hadn't expected to learn about her through their cases, in half-truths spoken over cold Chinese late into the night. And he certainly hadn't expected the bits and pieces of her existence to fill up the crevices of his mind, the cracks in his heart, until all he could think and feel was tied up in her.
They used to be so in tune, that when he had a headache, she took the pills. Lately, he'd done all he could to disconnect himself from her, because he was trying to work things out with the mother of his children. He didn't call Kathy his wife anymore, not in his head. Not when someone else had filled that role far better the past few years, in everything but name.
He wonders why he'd gone willingly back into hell right when he'd worked up the nerve to confess his feelings. Tough case, my ass. Olivia was the one who knew how to handle him after a tough case, not Kathy.
The more he thought about it, the more obvious the conclusion became. The frustrating, irritating, dooming conclusion.
He'd sabotaged himself.
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It had been 3 weeks since she'd delivered his baby. Three weeks of her coming into work late, leaving early, and attempting to ignore Elliot's obvious gratitude for saving his wife and child. There wasn't an hour that went by that he didn't plunk down a fresh tea on her desk. Before the accident, she didn't think he even knew what kind of tea she preferred.
She felt ridiculous, pining after him in a way that should only appear in a Jane Austen novel, but there was nothing she could do. She'd tried alcohol, but that was a bust. She could never let herself drink too much. It only brought back more memories better left hidden.
She'd tried watching comedy shows, hoping the laugh tracks would teach her how to be normal again. Not that she'd ever been normal. But she thought that maybe she could learn something from the six friends that spent the majority of their lives in a coffee shop.
She'd even tried bringing a guy home. She'd gone to the bar, had enough wine to look as though she should be drunk, and picked up a decent looking guy who was far more intoxicated than herself. They'd fumbled around in the back of the cab, but the sweaty palms of an investment banker would never be the callused hands that had imprinted themselves on her soul. He said all the right things, touched her in most of the right ways, but she knew instinctively she could never come for him. Once he got to her door, she kissed him soundly on the cheek and thanked him for bringing her home.
She'd walked up her stairs, feeling for all the world as if she'd cheated on Elliot.
She wonders if she had.
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It had been three weeks since she'd delivered his baby. Two weeks and 5 days since he realized he was living a lie. He'd tried to come over and talk to his partner, but something always got in the way. A late night call from the precinct, Kathleen's flat tire.
And that sonofabitch who had his sloppy hands all over her.
At the memories of that night last week, his fists clenched and his eyes squeezed tight. There he was, that Wall Street asshole who was living proof that Olivia would never want a guy like him. She could have anyone she wanted, so why a washed up, married father of five?
He knows that she would never want him the way he wants her. And he thinks that's okay, maybe, if he can just have her in this way for as long as possible. They could be partners for a long time still, and he wants to make sure he doesn't screw that up. So he'd made sure to learn her preferred choice of tea, and made a cup for her as soon as she neared the bottom of her last.
It was vanilla in the morning, sweetened with sugar and a dash of milk. But in the afternoon, (and he'd only picked up on this Saturday when she'd come in on her day off) she preferred plain green tea. He'd been pissed at himself for not noticing, but swore to do it right from now on.
He thought if he could take care of the little things, she wouldn't leave him for someone who could take care of it all.
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He is standing outside her door, trying to work up the nerve to knock. It's his partner, for God's sake. His best friend of nine years. It had taken four swigs of whiskey just to get him here.
He doesn't know how much he'll need after.
Elliot pounds on her door, three quick motions. He never was one for doing things halfway.
Nearly a minute passes, and irrationality begins. She's not here. (You followed her home.) She's asleep. (It's only 9:30.) She's not alone.
It is this last thought that put a lump in his throat.
So when the door swings open to reveal a sleepy-eyed Olivia with damp, curling hair, his face breaks into a shit-eating grin.
"Hey Liv." She wordlessly steps aside, allowing him entrance. Her apartment is the same as he'd last seen it...a year ago? Shit. Had it been that long since he'd paid her a visit?
"So, ah, um..." he stutters. God, could you be a little less like Dickie?
"What's up, Elliot?" she asks tiredly.
"Nothin'. I just wanted to come by and see you." She bites her lip, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
"Elliot. You see me twelve hours a day, isn't that enough?" No.
"I just wanted to check up on you. You seem tired lately."
"I am tired. So fucking tired of this shit, El. Sometimes I wish I wouldn't wake up."
"Liv-" his voice breaks.
"Look, just...forget it. This isn't what you came for," she stares at him, willing him to forget her honesty. "Do you need to tell me something, or can it wait until tomorrow?" She looks down and away from his eyes, but not before he saw the raw edge to her pain.
He needs to go for broke.
"I made a mistake."
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