Two years can do a lot to man, in my case transforming a guy stuck in his
late twenties to a forty five year old man, about eight years too soon. I
admit, I've become rather insensitive in the last few months. I'm still as
caring as I was before, but stupid shit doesn't make feel as sorry for
people anymore. Sometimes this is a bad thing.
For example, a girl, about nineteen years old, walked in last week saying her ex had raped her. Apparently, she had broken up with him, and admitted that she had teased him and attempted to make him jealous afterwards, and he snapped. Albeit, no rape is justified, but I didn't show her the same sympathy and caring as I would a woman who had been walking down the street and had the same happen to her. The whole 'rarely an innocent victim' thing coming back to haunt me.
It will be two years next month since Kathy left. Olivia and I had this huge case and we ended up working it for three days straight. No sleep, no showers, no trips home. This pissed Kathy off to no end. She was tired of me not being there; straw that breaks the camel's back. At the end of day two, she packed up and took off, taking the kids with her. And fuck, if she didn't leave me a damn note! No phone call, no face-to-face confrontation. That was the first time I've cried like that in nineteen years, since Maureen's birth. I've cried a little here and there, but not like that.
Olivia was there when I needed her. She helped me back on my feet. I eventually convinced her to move in with me, big house and no people there was a waste and she shouldn't be paying rent when I have adequate space. We've become very close best friends, and we've learned a lot from each other. I now understand why Ben and Jerry's is supported fully by upset women (my favorite is phish food), and now she appreciates some of the spicier scents on her more upbeat days as oppose to flowery perfumes. Sometimes she goes into work with my Adidas cologne on, and she even bought me a bottle to make up for any of mine she had used. But it was a little strange when I caught her putting on my old spice deodorant- she claimed she had run out and didn't feel like going to the store. So long as she doesn't start watching porn, I won't be too freaked out.
I've tried dating since about four months after it happened, but nothing has worked out. The only women I've loved in the last few years was my wife, my mother, my girls, and my partner- they say partners are like blood, and I cant help but agree. So last month Olivia dragged me to a single's bar. Oh, that was fun. Olivia and I, oh we stuck out. There couldn't have been anyone there above thirty- excluding us, of course. We ended up renting Moulin Rouge, because it was her turn to pick, and between us downed eleven Heinekens. And when the movie was over, we stayed up in a drunken state laughing about how pitiful it was for us two both be so old and still so single. God bless Friday nights.
I came home two weeks ago and found Brian Cassidy sitting on my couch, drinking my scotch (which she bought me some more to make up for it). Apparently they had a little thing going on. A few glances exchanged between her and I, a few seconds of the 'get lost' look, and I bolted. Went and got a drink, drove around for a while (let's not linger on my intoxicated driving). I came home around eleven, slightly drunk, and they were both gone. On the way to my room, I stopped in Maureen's room, and tears began to roll down my face. I knew what happened here that night, in my baby's bed. I respect Olivia, and I don't blame her for doing it, but this is my baby's bed. And its not even so much what happened, but my baby should be in that bed, not my best friend, who- let's not kid myself- is here to fill the hole because of my lack of kids.
"Elliot?"
I turned around abruptly, "Liv, I didn't here you come in."
She walked past me and ran a finger under my eye as she entered her room. She pointed the same finger at me, indicating. "Maybe you didn't realize you were sobbing," she plopped on the end of her bed and started to take off her shoes. "Wanna talk about it?"
I sat in the chair she has beside her door and ran my hands through what little hair I have, scratching my scalp, "Want to? No, not really. But it'd probably do me some good if I did. I miss my kids. Just knowing what happened in that bed tonight was a reality check is all. The bed is your's now, and it just tears me up knowing that my child will never sleep in it again."
"You don't know that. Close your eyes," and I did so without even thinking. I could hear her changing clothes. "Maybe it's just a hiatus."
"A two-year hiatus? No, I know they're gone for good. The divorce was finalized last month, remember?. I'm surprised she stayed as long as she did." I heard her sit on her bed so I opened my eyes. "But, hey, since I still have my house, you still have a home. There's good news," I laughed, softly but with a hysterical tone to it, and before I knew it, it was a sob.
"Ell..." she started to get up but I waved her off.
"I'm okay," I stood and turned to leave. "'night," I said over my shoulder and headed to my room.
"G'night. Elliot?"
I turned around and poked my head in her doorway. "Yeah?"
"Um, not to sound like a big softie, but I love you. You know that, right?"
"Yeah. I love you, too. Good night," and I retreated to my bed. ******** I wouldn't describe Olivia as a little sister, but I feel so much closer than just best friends. Ever since she moved in we've shared every intimate detail of our lives. Before, we rarely discussed personal issues unless I needed advice for one of the girls. Before all this, we were protective partners, but let a guy come in any contact that so much as smells bad with her now, and he's going down. I know she can hold her own, but I don't give her a chance to anymore. It's not instinct. I don't know what it is.
And on Monday, I found myself sliding up behind Brian at his desk and leaning down close enough so that only he could hear. "You do anything, I mean anything- breathe on her wrong- and I'll do more than kick your ass. I'll do so much it will require weeks of planning. They won't ID you because there'll be nothing left to identify, except that the victim suffered. That clear?"
"Uh, yeah. I'll keep that in mind," he sounded like he got the message.
"Keep what in mind?" Olivia walked up beside us, and handed me a cup of coffee.
"Oh, uh, I was just telling Brian here that you like Audioslave and Chunky Munkey, occasionally both at once."
"Oh, so you weren't doing the protective big brother stunt?"
Brian looked back down at his work, "No, it was more like the psychopathically protective father. But I don't have anything to worry about because I won't be doing anything to hurt the woman I care about."
"And when you stop caring? Love doesn't last forever." At least that's my experience.
"Well, not all marriages are doomed quite like your's was, Stabler. I know how to find time for those I love." He gives her this glance that really pisses me off.
I have never liked this guy. I started to go after him but Olivia grabbed me. She dragged me into the interrogation room and shut the door. "What was that about?"
"I was just asking." I paused. "He's such an assmunch."
"Elliot, you are thirty-eight. You should have quite saying 'assmunch' fifteen years ago. And what's wrong with him?"
"I just don't like the guy."
"That's not good enough. I know you just want to look out for me. But you can't do that to the guys I want to date."
"I'm sorry. I was out of line." I wasn't very sorry for doing it, but I was sorry that I upset her. Of course we made up by my buying her drinks that night.
But that was two weeks ago. Now we're in the car headed for the house. We just wrapped a case on this guy, Dickerson, who raped girls, then would stalk them, making them get paranoid and freaked out. When he realized that we were on to him, he began stalking Olivia. She played into it, helping us to nail him.
So now she sits there just staring out her window and I know something's up. "Olivia?" "Yeah?" she says it with a little bit of worry, I don't usually say her full first name unless I'm serious about something.
"What's wrong? You've been freakishly quiet. Is it Dickerson?"
"No."
"Ah." Pause. "Munch?" John had made some stupid comment that had pissed her off earlier.
"No. I don't take John's comments personally anymore."
"Oh." I pause again. "Cassidy?" She moves, and I can tell I struck the nerve. "Ah. Did he do anything? Because if he did, I swear I'll-"
"No, he didn't do anything, unfortunately," she puts her elbow on the door handle and puts her head on her hand.
"Unfortunately? You wanted him to do something wrong?" Now I'm just confused.
"No, but it'd make breaking up with him easier. I just don't feel like it's working. I know we'll never be more than we were when we first started dating. I could never love him. It's just pisses me off that I have to hurt him."
I grin at her like an idiot, "I'd be more than happy to hurt him for you."
She turns her head sharply at me, "What is it with you? Why do you hate him so much?"
"I don't hate him, I just dislike him quite a bit. Like I said, something about him I just don't like." By now we're parked at the curb, an I get out and walk around to the house. When I get to her side she's still just sitting there, so I open her door and extend my hand. "C'mon. Go to bed and I'll make breakfast in the morning."
She stares at my hand for a second. "Sausage or bacon?"
"Both. I know you'll want bacon, but I want some sausage."
She finally grabs my hand and I help her out. "Thanks. And cheesy scrambled eggs?"
I can't help but smile at her, the way its that good kind of childish, something every adult should indulge in every now and then. "Yes, cheesy scrambled eggs. And while I'm at it, Olly," I say it like it as if were a childish nickname, "would you like me to carry you bed then read you a story?"
"Please?" She grins stupidly at me, and it's a nice thing to see on her. "No." I walk to the front door and open it. When I turn around she's standing there, pouting, playing the spoiled brat who's just been told no.
"I'll throw a temper tantrum." She crosses her arms and stomps her foot.
I walk up and stand directly in front of her, trying to stare her down. We both know the long nights are making us insane, we're not usually this goofy. I grab her just enough to take her feet off the ground and haul her off to the house.
'Get off me!" she yells, but barely, though, through all the laughing she's doing. She slaps me on my shoulder.
I drop her on the couch in the living room. Seeing Olivia giggle is very strange. It's two-thirty now, so I just leave to go to bed. In my room, I put on the pajamas she bought me for Valentine's Day. Black silk. We agreed that since neither of us was seeing anyone, we'd do Valentine's gift exchange for each other. She got me silk pajamas and silk boxers- all black- and I got her a very expensive, very nice bubble bath. Thank God I have a bathroom adjacent to my bedroom, otherwise until April my only chance for a shower would have been at work.
I hear the pipes creak just as I slide into bed, and I know Olivia is taking a bath. Its one of the few things left in her life that help her relax. I honestly don't think she ever uses the shower.
God, I wanna sleep so damn bad, but all I can do is toss tor fifteen minutes, playing cot-contortionist. At some point I lost the top half of the PJ's, so I slide out of bed and slip it on over my shoulders. I figure I'll go see if Scifi is running any good oldies, like the stuff from when I was a kid. Maybe if I'm lucky the TV will relax me and I'll fall asleep.
I stop by the bathroom door. I hate Christmas songs, but I know she's humming something Christmas-y. I knock on the door. "Curtain," I say through the door. You know you've been living together too long when you can walk into the bathroom while you're completely plutonic heterosexual partner of the opposite sex is taking a bath. We've been living together way too long.
So when I hear the sound of the rings sliding on the metal rod, I open the door. She doesn't bother locking it. I feel trusted. She has the curtain up just enough so that I can still see her face. "Hey," she says.
"Hey," I hop up on the counter. I'm a fidgeter so the first thing I do is pick up one of those stupid decorator soaps, the kind that my wife just had to have, and I dig my nails into it, slowly picking it away.
She takes one good look at me and I'm found out. "What's up?"
"I dunno, Can't sleep is all."
"You should try taking bubble baths," she says, blowing some bubbles in my direction. They land a good foot and a half from me- bubbles aren't very aerodynamic.
"I'm manly. Bubble baths aren't my thing. I need a soft female body next to me," I sigh loudly. "I don't miss Kathy-the-person so much, but there's just so much that I grew to know, and now those things are gone. Such as another body in my bed. And the rarity when she wasn't there, such as when she went home for her father's funeral and the kids couldn't afford to miss school, one of the kids usually came in with his or her teddy bear and snuggled up with their dear old dad."
"Wow, Must've been nice," she says it with a hint of sadness and looks away.
"It was." Shit. I'm such a jack-ass. Here I am complaining about things I don't have anymore that she never had in the first place. It's as bad as a guy who hasn't had a meal in a day complaining to the corpse of the guy who just died of hunger.
We sit there in silence for a second, before I hop off the counter. "Okay, well I'm off to give sleep one more chance before I give up on it."
"Mmkay."
I'm tossing and turning for another good twenty minutes before she's in my doorway. "No luck?"
"No," I practically growl. My back is to her, and I feel the weight shift on the bed. She's getting in my bed. "What're you doing?" I roll over to face her.
"I can't sleep either. I don't need another body with me, but I figure if I can't sleep I'll at least try to help you sleep. So shutup before I change my mind."
I can't help but smile. "You're a true friend, Liv."
"Yeah, well. I sure as hell better get extra bacon in the morning."
"Sure thing." I don't even realize it, but just the heat off of another human body is soothing me. In no time, I can feel myself drifting into sleep.
********************
All I know is it just felt like blunt force was applied to my head, but soft blunt force- if there is such a thing. I'm sort of awake the second time it happens, so I can identify it better. A pillow. I roll over and stick my head under one of the remaining pillows.
"Get up! I'm hungry," she whines.
"Ung," is my only response. I try to ignore the pillow battering, then it stops. I poke my head out from under the pillow to see if she's gone, and she is, so I put my head back on top of my pillow and start to drift back to sleep. It's been a long time since I've had sleep that good. I would thank her for it, but she doesn't deserve it after the beating she just gave my head.
I'm dreaming about being in the rain. But oddly the only part of me getting wet is my head. "GAH!" I almost scream as I nearly jump out of my skin. "Evil bitch...." is all I manage to get out before I'm halfway down the hall chasing her through the house. We trample through her room and over her bed and run our way into the kitchen, she's on one side of the counter and I'm on the other.
"Oh, good. You're in the kitchen now. How about some food?" She grins at me like the cat that ate the canary, only she was proud of it. Poor bird.
"Fine. I give up. Go get ready for work and I'll have it ready in about a half." I hope she doesn't catch on to the suspiciousness that is my submission. "And change my sheets for me and put down a towel on my carpet!" I call after her.
She was back downstairs in almost exactly half an hour. I have her and my plates set out and she sits down to eat. "Looks good."
"Doesn't it always?"
"Yeah, sure." She picks up her fork and it takes everything in me not to lose it all right then. Let's see, there's a hint of chili powder, salt, some hot sauce, and sugar. All of it is safe, but combined in cheesy eggs it probably tastes really nasty. So the expression running her face right now is fucking hilarious. She swallows it hard and glares at me. "I hate you, Elliot Stabler."
By now, I'm probably turning purple. How I manage to stand is a mad feat. I walk over and open a cabinet, pulling out a plate of perfectly untampered eggs. "Here," I manage to get out between the gulps of air I'm attempting to take in, "It's completely safe."
She eyes it suspiciously before tasting it cautiously. "Mmmm. This is better than normal. What'd you do?"
"Well, I added extra cheese because what I did was the act of a true jerk." I know in the last few minutes that stupid grin hasn't left my face. ************************* Two days before Christmas
Olivia has no idea what's going on. All she knows is that Cragen and Munch have joined us for lunch- my homemade chicken soup. So here we all sit around eating and the boys and I keep glancing at each other suspiciously. Everyone is finishing up, so we begin to migrate to the living room. Don sits in the middle of the couch with john and Olivia on either side of him. I reach beside my chair and pull out a black box. "Olivia Benson, the three men before you now are cheap-ass bastards. We got your Christmas together. This is the first part, I'll take you to get the second part in a little while." I reach over and hand her the box, then sit impatiently as she slowly opens it.
In the box is a circular gold locket, On one side is an encrusted diamond and on the other side, engraved, is the number "16." Inside is a picture of all four of us, but it was cut in half to fit in both sides of the locket. One half is her and I and the other is Munch and Cragen. "It's beautiful," is all she manages to get out.
"Here," Don says, taking it from her hand. "Turn around," and he puts it on her. It's nice to see I'm not the only one in this group that has a stupid grin. She keeps her fingers on it, feeling the edges.
"Ready for the second part?" I ask, standing.
"Yeah."
"Good. Get your coat"
"Where're we going?" she asks, getting her coat.
"First we're going to get my present to myself, then we'll get your's."
"You got yourself a present? Isn't that cheating?" She cocks an eyebrow at me.
"What can I say, I like me."
***
I'm laying here in the chair at Harry's Tattoo Shop to get a star put on the inside of my right wrist. Jason, my artist is applying alcohol at the moment.
"So what else did you get me?"
"Not telling."
"Fine. By the way, why are you getting a star?"
"Because I was a punk rock kid and couldn't afford one then. I had forgotten about it until I found my old sketchbook a few months ago. And I think stars are cool. And I've wanted another tattoo for a while, It's been about four years since my last one. I contemplated getting a sketch-style of my badge, but it'd cost probably upwards of three or four hundred. Maybe I'll get it some other time."
"So you're a cop?" Jason asks, preparing the ink in the gun. "Yeah. We both are."
"He nods his head. "Okay, Mr. Stabler, you ready?"
"Yeah." I flinch as I feel the first few pricks. All I can think of is the time they asked me about my corps tattoo at work. Jefferies asking me if I got off on it. It's not quite like that girl that we found. It's mentally and spiritually arousing. That feeling puts you on a whole new plateau of consciousness. I know I've been silent for about five minutes now, and I intimately know every dot on the ceiling tile above me.
Okay, so it's the adrenaline and endorphins that give me that new level. Don't get me wrong, it does hurt. But I feel separated from the pain. My first tattoo, my jar-head pride, I didn't know how to enjoy it.
Forty minutes later, and I'm done. "Okay, Mr. Stabler, I'll be back in a few minutes with the bill."
"Alright," I roll my sleeve carefully down over the bandage and he leaves.
"Did it hurt?" she asks.
"No. I mean, it did, but... I can't explain it. You'll understand in a little while."
"What do you mean?" she knows what I mean, she's just playing dumb.
"You're getting one. The lizard you always wanted but were too scared to get, you're getting it now." She opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. "I just got one, and if it hurts, you can punch me. C'mon, Liv, you'll love it. I've even given him one of your sketches that he modified with color." I show her the drawing he's done.
She shakes her head in indecision. She stays quiet until Jason returns. "So are you getting one, Ms. Benson?" He knew she was still unsure, at least that's what I told him when I scheduled the appointment.
She sighs, "Yeah, I guess." She rolls up her left pant leg and shows him where on her inner calf it is she wants to get the gecko. She's always wanted a tattoo of a gecko running up her leg, but never had the balls to get it done. I don't think it's the pain- she took a bullet for me back in March. She was working a few days later and completely healed a few weeks later.
He's rubbing her leg with alcohol and I can hear her breathing change. So she is scared.
"Are you ready?" Jason says, as he finishes prepping the gun.
"As much as I ever could be." Even before the gun touches her skin, her knuckles are white from gripping the chair. I slide my chair closer to the chair she's in, and I slowly pull each finger from its grasp on the metal. "Liv, the chair hasn't done anything to warrant the pain you are inflicting on it." I put her hand in mine. "Squeeze," I say, and she doesn't hesitate. "Okay," I say to Jason, and he starts. She hisses, and closes her eyes at first, then she relaxes some.
"I hate needles," she says, smiling at me, "but it's not that bad."
"The death grip on my hand would say otherwise."
She laughs nervously and loosens her grasp. "Sorry about that."
"It's okay. You know, if you close your eyes and focus on the pain, you start to feel really good. It's the endorphins and adrenaline, but I feels indescribably good."
So she closes her eyes. I wish I'd had someone to tell me that when I got my first. She stays like that until she's done.
"Olivia?"
"Yeah?" she opens her eyes and looks down. "Oh, you done?"
Jason gives her a strange look. "Yeah, about five minutes now."
"Oh.." She looks down and frowns, because it's already bandaged. He hands me a box of bandages and two bars of undyed, unscented soap for us to clean them with.
"Remember, do not pick the scabs, or you'll be back here getting them redone. Okay, well I have another appointment, so I'll leave the bill with Megan at the desk."
I grab her coat and help her stand. She's dizzy from the chemicals rushing through her, and I can't help but smile. We walk out front and I pay.
On the way home, she won't stop fingering her new tattoo, even though it's through a bandage and her pants. We get to the house and the two others are standing outside waiting for us. She gets herself out of the car and looks at us. "Why do I get the feeling it isn't over, and you guys are planning something?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Cragen says.
She walks in the front door, looking suspiciously at us. Inside, a beautiful long black dress is hanging with a pair of black strappy shoes just below it. "Oh. My. God."
"You are the glue that holds all us together. John's partners come and go, as well as our ADA's. But our group has stood the longest. It's as if we feel the need to protect you, and in return you keep us sane. So tonight, we're going to make you feel special. The guys say that since I'm your best friend I should take you out, so I'll be back at seven, that gives you an hour." She's shocked, so she just nods.
Cragen, John, and I leave, and outside we all start laughing. "We finally did something to shock the infallible Olivia Benson." Cragen jokes.
"Yeah. Well, we got to get over to John's place and get my Tux." *********** She's looking in her mirror doing her makeup, and apparently she doesn't even notice me beside her. Must be in Olivia-land. "You don't need it," I say to her.
She looks up at me. "I know."
"Have you noticed yet that everything we've gotten you is something you wear? I just realized that. Here's the last bit of what we got you," I extend the little black box and she opens it. Inside is a pair of teardrop diamond earrings.
"You guys must be dirt poor now," she says, shocked, and starts to take out the ones she already put in an puts in the ones we got her. ******** Dinner was excellent, and now we're back home drinking wine and talking. We're both on our third glass, and she pulls out a small wrapped box with a bow on it. "Here. This isn't all I got you, but it's a start."
I unwrap the box, and I want to cry but I don't. It's a glass box with a bullet inside. On it is engraved: March 24, 2003 OUCH.
"Must've been fun saying, 'hey doc, can I get that in a take-out?'"
"I had to wait until the case was over, and annoy the guys down at evidence until one of them coughed it up- for a price. He made me pay for the bullet I had been shot with. Needless to say, I thought It was stupid, but I wanted to give you the bullet I took for you so I paid him ninety bucks for it."
"Damn. Don't worry, I know plenty of guys who would shoot you and let you keep the bullet for free," I pat her on the arm as I stand up to go into the kitchen, swaying. I open the refrigerator and can't find anything to snack on, but settle for grapes. I grab a bunch and walk back to the couch. She starts to pick some off and pop them in her mouth.
"Tasty," she says, eating another. She falls quiet and is giving me a strange feeling like something's up.
"Liv?" I ask her. She looks up at me like she wants to say something, but she doesn't. Something tells me not to push her, so I don't. "Okay, well, I'm tired. If you want me, you know where I'll be."
I go into my room and strip down to my undershirt and boxers. I lay there, staring at my ceiling for about a half an hour before she's in my doorway. "Can't sleep," she says before she slides in beside me, turning her back towards me. I roll over towards my side of the bed, trying to give her more room. I can feel her moving trying to get comfortable. Without any warning, she's curved against my back with her arm over me as if I'm her teddy bear. Her hand lands on a bare spot where my shirt has ridden up. I figure she's asleep and doesn't realize her position, until her fingers lightly draw unknown masterpieces on my skin.
"Olivia?"
"Hmm?" She is awake.
"You're drunk," I try to slide away but there's nowhere to slide to, so I take her hand and put it behind me, rolling onto my back.
"No, I'm not," she says, and we both know she's at least a little inebriated.
"You are."
"Okay, maybe I am. I don't care. I've wanted to do this for months," and her hand is back under my shirt and on my stomach. I should remove her hand, but I really don't want to. I remove it anyway.
"Good, if you've wanted to for so long, you'll still feel that way when you're sober. It isn't that I don't want to do this, but I would rather hear sober feelings than drunken ones. So if you still feel that way when you haven't been drinking, we'll talk." She sighs. A drunken annoyed Olivia Benson. All I can do is hope she doesn't hate me in the morning. She gets out of my bed and leaves, slamming my bedroom door behind her, making me jump.
Needless to say, I didn't sleep at all. I'd had the urge to think of her that way before, but I suppressed those thoughts every time. Partners. Best friends. I thought that was what we were meant to be. Now, I have at least twenty different thoughts raging through my head at once and I don't know what to do. So I just lay there. We're on call until the day after tomorrow, so we'll be in the house for the next two days.
At seven I decide I should get up, so I go into the kitchen to make some coffee, and there's already a pot made, with Olivia sitting at the counter drinking a cup. "Hey," I say.
"Hey," and immediately we fall into uncomfortable silence. I get myself a cup and doctor it to my liking. I can tell we both want to say something but neither of us wants an awkward situation. So it catches me by surprise when she's the bold one. "I just want you to know it wasn't the alcohol. I think you at least deserve to know the truth. I do have those fuzzy feelings for you." She's staring into the oblivion that is her coffee cup as if it will solve all the mysteries of the universe.
I don't say anything. I know that walking away without speaking is a real dick thing to do, but I need a shower. When I'm done, I throw on some comfortable jeans and a grey t-shirt, followed by a thin grey sweater. Now there's this feeling in the back of my skull that's building and, for the life of me, I can't identify it.
I go to the kitchen and she's sitting in the living room watching TV. I open the refrigerator and there's nothing to eat, so I slam the door. "God dammit! Do we not have anything to eat? Were we planning on doing dinner tomorrow night?!"
"Dinner's at John's house, remember?" she doesn't even look up from the TV. For some reason that really pisses me off.
"I'm going for a jog," I say, grabbing my coat.
"Ok."
It was more of a 'running for my life' type thing than it was a 'jog.' I get back to the house and race around to find her. "Olivia?" I call out.
"In here!" she calls. Her bedroom. The one place I wasn't looking... where's murphy when you need him (to hold still so you can punch him)? She's putting a CD in her stereo, and I grab her arm and swing her around, praying it wasn't to forceful. I back her against a wall, pissed.
"You can not do this shit to me. Not now. Not when my life is in order and finally back on track. I will not let you create new disorder!" I know it's coming out through my teeth, and there's a tiny hint of fear in her eyes.
"Who says it will be disorderly? Because I was expecting good things, not bad." I was wrong. She doesn't fear me, she understands that I'm just really fucking confused.
"The egg has to crack before the bird can fly. Something bad always happens whenever something good comes along," I say, calmer, and now I back off. I end up sitting on her bed and putting my head in my hands.
"Fine," she says, lifting my chin up and straddling me at the same time, "the bad came when you got divorced. Here is the good reward for that crisis." And she kisses me. I should really, really be trying to push her off me right now, but I'm not.
She starts to pull my shirt off, but I grab her hands and break away from her mouth. "Not yet." There's confusion in her eyes, so I kiss her. After a minute or so, I stop. "I need to... uh... do something else." I try to stand up and she takes the hint and gets off me. I try not to look at her, but I do anyway. She looks hurt. "It's not you," I say, kissing her. "I just don't want to get too deep right now."
She nods her understanding. "It's ok." she kisses me lightly, smiling, and I leave.
I go in my room and close my door. I lay down on the bed and think, staying there until five o'clock, at which point I get up and take a shower- another one. I just run the water really hot and lean against the back wall, occasionally hitting my head back against it.
What can I do? Like I said, I've suppressed those thoughts of her until now. This is going to change things. I mean, things are already changed. I can't go back to two days ago. We could pretend none of this happened, but neither of us are good liars.
I stay like that, thinking and hitting my head back against the wall, until the water runs cold. The knocking on the door is what stirs me. "Yeah?" I call out.
I hear the door open and she walks inside. "Hey," she playfully taps her fingers on the glass of the door.
"Hi"
"I haven't seen you in a few hours, I was making sure you didn't shrivel up and die."
I turn off the water and stick a hand out of the shower door. "Towel?" She hands me one, and I wrap it around my waist before I step out. I can feel her eyes boring holes in me. I grab another towel and start drying my torso before I look at her. She's got this ear-to-ear grin on her face. "What are you so happy about?" I run the towel quickly through my hair and toss on my t shirt, returning to look at her.
"Nothing. I just like looking at you is all," she leans up against me and kisses me.
"The feeling is mutual," I say when I pull back. "I like looking at me, too." She playfully smacks me. I walk into my room and grab my jeans. I turn around and she's standing in the bathroom doorway, still smiling. "You mind?"
"No, not at all," she motions for me to continue. So I turn my back and put my pants on under my towel. When I turn back around, she's pouting. "Cheater."
"I'm not known for playing fair," I walk past her, and grab her around her waist, taking her down on my bathroom floor, making her squeal. "That was a funny noise," I say, before dipping my head down to kiss her. The kiss gets deeper, and she slides her hands under my shirt and lays them just below my rib cage, gently scratching me. I pull back and lick my lips, my eyes half- open. "That feels good."
"Yeah? What about," she paused, scratching a bit harder right over my ribs, smiling, "this?"
"Mmmm, yeah. That feels good, too. Feeling playful, are we?" I play with a few strands of her hair.
"Not particularly. Just..." she trails off, thinking about something. I think she's focused on the spot on the ceiling just above of my head.
"I don't know about you, but everything about being around you makes me happier than I've been in-"
"Two years?" she cuts me off.
I nod, "yeah." I stand up, then help pull her up.
She touches my upper arm, "It's been longer for me. It's taken so much for me not to say anything until now. The alcohol did lower my inhibitions, and I'm glad it did. It was easier for me. But maybe it would help us if we actually talked about it. So far, all it's been is little kisses here and there over the course of an eighteen hour period."
"Okay. I'm scared out of my mind. Things were easy two days ago when you were my best friend. Now I don't know what we are and I don't know what I want to do. It's a decision between risking the best friend I've ever had for something more or forfeiting the chance to be something more to guarantee that friendship. But I don't think the latter is even an option anymore. I mean, what if things go sour? Brian has trouble talking to you and you only dated a little while. I love you and don't want to risk destroying what we have."
"I love you too. Way more than I should. That's why I'm willing to risk it, because I don't see it as a risk. And even so, it would be absolutely worth it," she says the last bit with a grin.
"I guess so." I step up to her and play with a piece of hair in front of her face, "I'm just kind of scared. But sometimes its good to take risks," I bend down and kiss her.
She pulls back after a few seconds of kissing and looks at me, "You sure? Because I don't want to drag you into anything you don't want to do."
I nod, "Yeah. Yeah, I really wanna do this," I motion a hand between us.
"Good, because I was gonna have to hurt you if you said otherwise," she smiles, and I'm not so scared anymore.
For example, a girl, about nineteen years old, walked in last week saying her ex had raped her. Apparently, she had broken up with him, and admitted that she had teased him and attempted to make him jealous afterwards, and he snapped. Albeit, no rape is justified, but I didn't show her the same sympathy and caring as I would a woman who had been walking down the street and had the same happen to her. The whole 'rarely an innocent victim' thing coming back to haunt me.
It will be two years next month since Kathy left. Olivia and I had this huge case and we ended up working it for three days straight. No sleep, no showers, no trips home. This pissed Kathy off to no end. She was tired of me not being there; straw that breaks the camel's back. At the end of day two, she packed up and took off, taking the kids with her. And fuck, if she didn't leave me a damn note! No phone call, no face-to-face confrontation. That was the first time I've cried like that in nineteen years, since Maureen's birth. I've cried a little here and there, but not like that.
Olivia was there when I needed her. She helped me back on my feet. I eventually convinced her to move in with me, big house and no people there was a waste and she shouldn't be paying rent when I have adequate space. We've become very close best friends, and we've learned a lot from each other. I now understand why Ben and Jerry's is supported fully by upset women (my favorite is phish food), and now she appreciates some of the spicier scents on her more upbeat days as oppose to flowery perfumes. Sometimes she goes into work with my Adidas cologne on, and she even bought me a bottle to make up for any of mine she had used. But it was a little strange when I caught her putting on my old spice deodorant- she claimed she had run out and didn't feel like going to the store. So long as she doesn't start watching porn, I won't be too freaked out.
I've tried dating since about four months after it happened, but nothing has worked out. The only women I've loved in the last few years was my wife, my mother, my girls, and my partner- they say partners are like blood, and I cant help but agree. So last month Olivia dragged me to a single's bar. Oh, that was fun. Olivia and I, oh we stuck out. There couldn't have been anyone there above thirty- excluding us, of course. We ended up renting Moulin Rouge, because it was her turn to pick, and between us downed eleven Heinekens. And when the movie was over, we stayed up in a drunken state laughing about how pitiful it was for us two both be so old and still so single. God bless Friday nights.
I came home two weeks ago and found Brian Cassidy sitting on my couch, drinking my scotch (which she bought me some more to make up for it). Apparently they had a little thing going on. A few glances exchanged between her and I, a few seconds of the 'get lost' look, and I bolted. Went and got a drink, drove around for a while (let's not linger on my intoxicated driving). I came home around eleven, slightly drunk, and they were both gone. On the way to my room, I stopped in Maureen's room, and tears began to roll down my face. I knew what happened here that night, in my baby's bed. I respect Olivia, and I don't blame her for doing it, but this is my baby's bed. And its not even so much what happened, but my baby should be in that bed, not my best friend, who- let's not kid myself- is here to fill the hole because of my lack of kids.
"Elliot?"
I turned around abruptly, "Liv, I didn't here you come in."
She walked past me and ran a finger under my eye as she entered her room. She pointed the same finger at me, indicating. "Maybe you didn't realize you were sobbing," she plopped on the end of her bed and started to take off her shoes. "Wanna talk about it?"
I sat in the chair she has beside her door and ran my hands through what little hair I have, scratching my scalp, "Want to? No, not really. But it'd probably do me some good if I did. I miss my kids. Just knowing what happened in that bed tonight was a reality check is all. The bed is your's now, and it just tears me up knowing that my child will never sleep in it again."
"You don't know that. Close your eyes," and I did so without even thinking. I could hear her changing clothes. "Maybe it's just a hiatus."
"A two-year hiatus? No, I know they're gone for good. The divorce was finalized last month, remember?. I'm surprised she stayed as long as she did." I heard her sit on her bed so I opened my eyes. "But, hey, since I still have my house, you still have a home. There's good news," I laughed, softly but with a hysterical tone to it, and before I knew it, it was a sob.
"Ell..." she started to get up but I waved her off.
"I'm okay," I stood and turned to leave. "'night," I said over my shoulder and headed to my room.
"G'night. Elliot?"
I turned around and poked my head in her doorway. "Yeah?"
"Um, not to sound like a big softie, but I love you. You know that, right?"
"Yeah. I love you, too. Good night," and I retreated to my bed. ******** I wouldn't describe Olivia as a little sister, but I feel so much closer than just best friends. Ever since she moved in we've shared every intimate detail of our lives. Before, we rarely discussed personal issues unless I needed advice for one of the girls. Before all this, we were protective partners, but let a guy come in any contact that so much as smells bad with her now, and he's going down. I know she can hold her own, but I don't give her a chance to anymore. It's not instinct. I don't know what it is.
And on Monday, I found myself sliding up behind Brian at his desk and leaning down close enough so that only he could hear. "You do anything, I mean anything- breathe on her wrong- and I'll do more than kick your ass. I'll do so much it will require weeks of planning. They won't ID you because there'll be nothing left to identify, except that the victim suffered. That clear?"
"Uh, yeah. I'll keep that in mind," he sounded like he got the message.
"Keep what in mind?" Olivia walked up beside us, and handed me a cup of coffee.
"Oh, uh, I was just telling Brian here that you like Audioslave and Chunky Munkey, occasionally both at once."
"Oh, so you weren't doing the protective big brother stunt?"
Brian looked back down at his work, "No, it was more like the psychopathically protective father. But I don't have anything to worry about because I won't be doing anything to hurt the woman I care about."
"And when you stop caring? Love doesn't last forever." At least that's my experience.
"Well, not all marriages are doomed quite like your's was, Stabler. I know how to find time for those I love." He gives her this glance that really pisses me off.
I have never liked this guy. I started to go after him but Olivia grabbed me. She dragged me into the interrogation room and shut the door. "What was that about?"
"I was just asking." I paused. "He's such an assmunch."
"Elliot, you are thirty-eight. You should have quite saying 'assmunch' fifteen years ago. And what's wrong with him?"
"I just don't like the guy."
"That's not good enough. I know you just want to look out for me. But you can't do that to the guys I want to date."
"I'm sorry. I was out of line." I wasn't very sorry for doing it, but I was sorry that I upset her. Of course we made up by my buying her drinks that night.
But that was two weeks ago. Now we're in the car headed for the house. We just wrapped a case on this guy, Dickerson, who raped girls, then would stalk them, making them get paranoid and freaked out. When he realized that we were on to him, he began stalking Olivia. She played into it, helping us to nail him.
So now she sits there just staring out her window and I know something's up. "Olivia?" "Yeah?" she says it with a little bit of worry, I don't usually say her full first name unless I'm serious about something.
"What's wrong? You've been freakishly quiet. Is it Dickerson?"
"No."
"Ah." Pause. "Munch?" John had made some stupid comment that had pissed her off earlier.
"No. I don't take John's comments personally anymore."
"Oh." I pause again. "Cassidy?" She moves, and I can tell I struck the nerve. "Ah. Did he do anything? Because if he did, I swear I'll-"
"No, he didn't do anything, unfortunately," she puts her elbow on the door handle and puts her head on her hand.
"Unfortunately? You wanted him to do something wrong?" Now I'm just confused.
"No, but it'd make breaking up with him easier. I just don't feel like it's working. I know we'll never be more than we were when we first started dating. I could never love him. It's just pisses me off that I have to hurt him."
I grin at her like an idiot, "I'd be more than happy to hurt him for you."
She turns her head sharply at me, "What is it with you? Why do you hate him so much?"
"I don't hate him, I just dislike him quite a bit. Like I said, something about him I just don't like." By now we're parked at the curb, an I get out and walk around to the house. When I get to her side she's still just sitting there, so I open her door and extend my hand. "C'mon. Go to bed and I'll make breakfast in the morning."
She stares at my hand for a second. "Sausage or bacon?"
"Both. I know you'll want bacon, but I want some sausage."
She finally grabs my hand and I help her out. "Thanks. And cheesy scrambled eggs?"
I can't help but smile at her, the way its that good kind of childish, something every adult should indulge in every now and then. "Yes, cheesy scrambled eggs. And while I'm at it, Olly," I say it like it as if were a childish nickname, "would you like me to carry you bed then read you a story?"
"Please?" She grins stupidly at me, and it's a nice thing to see on her. "No." I walk to the front door and open it. When I turn around she's standing there, pouting, playing the spoiled brat who's just been told no.
"I'll throw a temper tantrum." She crosses her arms and stomps her foot.
I walk up and stand directly in front of her, trying to stare her down. We both know the long nights are making us insane, we're not usually this goofy. I grab her just enough to take her feet off the ground and haul her off to the house.
'Get off me!" she yells, but barely, though, through all the laughing she's doing. She slaps me on my shoulder.
I drop her on the couch in the living room. Seeing Olivia giggle is very strange. It's two-thirty now, so I just leave to go to bed. In my room, I put on the pajamas she bought me for Valentine's Day. Black silk. We agreed that since neither of us was seeing anyone, we'd do Valentine's gift exchange for each other. She got me silk pajamas and silk boxers- all black- and I got her a very expensive, very nice bubble bath. Thank God I have a bathroom adjacent to my bedroom, otherwise until April my only chance for a shower would have been at work.
I hear the pipes creak just as I slide into bed, and I know Olivia is taking a bath. Its one of the few things left in her life that help her relax. I honestly don't think she ever uses the shower.
God, I wanna sleep so damn bad, but all I can do is toss tor fifteen minutes, playing cot-contortionist. At some point I lost the top half of the PJ's, so I slide out of bed and slip it on over my shoulders. I figure I'll go see if Scifi is running any good oldies, like the stuff from when I was a kid. Maybe if I'm lucky the TV will relax me and I'll fall asleep.
I stop by the bathroom door. I hate Christmas songs, but I know she's humming something Christmas-y. I knock on the door. "Curtain," I say through the door. You know you've been living together too long when you can walk into the bathroom while you're completely plutonic heterosexual partner of the opposite sex is taking a bath. We've been living together way too long.
So when I hear the sound of the rings sliding on the metal rod, I open the door. She doesn't bother locking it. I feel trusted. She has the curtain up just enough so that I can still see her face. "Hey," she says.
"Hey," I hop up on the counter. I'm a fidgeter so the first thing I do is pick up one of those stupid decorator soaps, the kind that my wife just had to have, and I dig my nails into it, slowly picking it away.
She takes one good look at me and I'm found out. "What's up?"
"I dunno, Can't sleep is all."
"You should try taking bubble baths," she says, blowing some bubbles in my direction. They land a good foot and a half from me- bubbles aren't very aerodynamic.
"I'm manly. Bubble baths aren't my thing. I need a soft female body next to me," I sigh loudly. "I don't miss Kathy-the-person so much, but there's just so much that I grew to know, and now those things are gone. Such as another body in my bed. And the rarity when she wasn't there, such as when she went home for her father's funeral and the kids couldn't afford to miss school, one of the kids usually came in with his or her teddy bear and snuggled up with their dear old dad."
"Wow, Must've been nice," she says it with a hint of sadness and looks away.
"It was." Shit. I'm such a jack-ass. Here I am complaining about things I don't have anymore that she never had in the first place. It's as bad as a guy who hasn't had a meal in a day complaining to the corpse of the guy who just died of hunger.
We sit there in silence for a second, before I hop off the counter. "Okay, well I'm off to give sleep one more chance before I give up on it."
"Mmkay."
I'm tossing and turning for another good twenty minutes before she's in my doorway. "No luck?"
"No," I practically growl. My back is to her, and I feel the weight shift on the bed. She's getting in my bed. "What're you doing?" I roll over to face her.
"I can't sleep either. I don't need another body with me, but I figure if I can't sleep I'll at least try to help you sleep. So shutup before I change my mind."
I can't help but smile. "You're a true friend, Liv."
"Yeah, well. I sure as hell better get extra bacon in the morning."
"Sure thing." I don't even realize it, but just the heat off of another human body is soothing me. In no time, I can feel myself drifting into sleep.
********************
All I know is it just felt like blunt force was applied to my head, but soft blunt force- if there is such a thing. I'm sort of awake the second time it happens, so I can identify it better. A pillow. I roll over and stick my head under one of the remaining pillows.
"Get up! I'm hungry," she whines.
"Ung," is my only response. I try to ignore the pillow battering, then it stops. I poke my head out from under the pillow to see if she's gone, and she is, so I put my head back on top of my pillow and start to drift back to sleep. It's been a long time since I've had sleep that good. I would thank her for it, but she doesn't deserve it after the beating she just gave my head.
I'm dreaming about being in the rain. But oddly the only part of me getting wet is my head. "GAH!" I almost scream as I nearly jump out of my skin. "Evil bitch...." is all I manage to get out before I'm halfway down the hall chasing her through the house. We trample through her room and over her bed and run our way into the kitchen, she's on one side of the counter and I'm on the other.
"Oh, good. You're in the kitchen now. How about some food?" She grins at me like the cat that ate the canary, only she was proud of it. Poor bird.
"Fine. I give up. Go get ready for work and I'll have it ready in about a half." I hope she doesn't catch on to the suspiciousness that is my submission. "And change my sheets for me and put down a towel on my carpet!" I call after her.
She was back downstairs in almost exactly half an hour. I have her and my plates set out and she sits down to eat. "Looks good."
"Doesn't it always?"
"Yeah, sure." She picks up her fork and it takes everything in me not to lose it all right then. Let's see, there's a hint of chili powder, salt, some hot sauce, and sugar. All of it is safe, but combined in cheesy eggs it probably tastes really nasty. So the expression running her face right now is fucking hilarious. She swallows it hard and glares at me. "I hate you, Elliot Stabler."
By now, I'm probably turning purple. How I manage to stand is a mad feat. I walk over and open a cabinet, pulling out a plate of perfectly untampered eggs. "Here," I manage to get out between the gulps of air I'm attempting to take in, "It's completely safe."
She eyes it suspiciously before tasting it cautiously. "Mmmm. This is better than normal. What'd you do?"
"Well, I added extra cheese because what I did was the act of a true jerk." I know in the last few minutes that stupid grin hasn't left my face. ************************* Two days before Christmas
Olivia has no idea what's going on. All she knows is that Cragen and Munch have joined us for lunch- my homemade chicken soup. So here we all sit around eating and the boys and I keep glancing at each other suspiciously. Everyone is finishing up, so we begin to migrate to the living room. Don sits in the middle of the couch with john and Olivia on either side of him. I reach beside my chair and pull out a black box. "Olivia Benson, the three men before you now are cheap-ass bastards. We got your Christmas together. This is the first part, I'll take you to get the second part in a little while." I reach over and hand her the box, then sit impatiently as she slowly opens it.
In the box is a circular gold locket, On one side is an encrusted diamond and on the other side, engraved, is the number "16." Inside is a picture of all four of us, but it was cut in half to fit in both sides of the locket. One half is her and I and the other is Munch and Cragen. "It's beautiful," is all she manages to get out.
"Here," Don says, taking it from her hand. "Turn around," and he puts it on her. It's nice to see I'm not the only one in this group that has a stupid grin. She keeps her fingers on it, feeling the edges.
"Ready for the second part?" I ask, standing.
"Yeah."
"Good. Get your coat"
"Where're we going?" she asks, getting her coat.
"First we're going to get my present to myself, then we'll get your's."
"You got yourself a present? Isn't that cheating?" She cocks an eyebrow at me.
"What can I say, I like me."
***
I'm laying here in the chair at Harry's Tattoo Shop to get a star put on the inside of my right wrist. Jason, my artist is applying alcohol at the moment.
"So what else did you get me?"
"Not telling."
"Fine. By the way, why are you getting a star?"
"Because I was a punk rock kid and couldn't afford one then. I had forgotten about it until I found my old sketchbook a few months ago. And I think stars are cool. And I've wanted another tattoo for a while, It's been about four years since my last one. I contemplated getting a sketch-style of my badge, but it'd cost probably upwards of three or four hundred. Maybe I'll get it some other time."
"So you're a cop?" Jason asks, preparing the ink in the gun. "Yeah. We both are."
"He nods his head. "Okay, Mr. Stabler, you ready?"
"Yeah." I flinch as I feel the first few pricks. All I can think of is the time they asked me about my corps tattoo at work. Jefferies asking me if I got off on it. It's not quite like that girl that we found. It's mentally and spiritually arousing. That feeling puts you on a whole new plateau of consciousness. I know I've been silent for about five minutes now, and I intimately know every dot on the ceiling tile above me.
Okay, so it's the adrenaline and endorphins that give me that new level. Don't get me wrong, it does hurt. But I feel separated from the pain. My first tattoo, my jar-head pride, I didn't know how to enjoy it.
Forty minutes later, and I'm done. "Okay, Mr. Stabler, I'll be back in a few minutes with the bill."
"Alright," I roll my sleeve carefully down over the bandage and he leaves.
"Did it hurt?" she asks.
"No. I mean, it did, but... I can't explain it. You'll understand in a little while."
"What do you mean?" she knows what I mean, she's just playing dumb.
"You're getting one. The lizard you always wanted but were too scared to get, you're getting it now." She opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. "I just got one, and if it hurts, you can punch me. C'mon, Liv, you'll love it. I've even given him one of your sketches that he modified with color." I show her the drawing he's done.
She shakes her head in indecision. She stays quiet until Jason returns. "So are you getting one, Ms. Benson?" He knew she was still unsure, at least that's what I told him when I scheduled the appointment.
She sighs, "Yeah, I guess." She rolls up her left pant leg and shows him where on her inner calf it is she wants to get the gecko. She's always wanted a tattoo of a gecko running up her leg, but never had the balls to get it done. I don't think it's the pain- she took a bullet for me back in March. She was working a few days later and completely healed a few weeks later.
He's rubbing her leg with alcohol and I can hear her breathing change. So she is scared.
"Are you ready?" Jason says, as he finishes prepping the gun.
"As much as I ever could be." Even before the gun touches her skin, her knuckles are white from gripping the chair. I slide my chair closer to the chair she's in, and I slowly pull each finger from its grasp on the metal. "Liv, the chair hasn't done anything to warrant the pain you are inflicting on it." I put her hand in mine. "Squeeze," I say, and she doesn't hesitate. "Okay," I say to Jason, and he starts. She hisses, and closes her eyes at first, then she relaxes some.
"I hate needles," she says, smiling at me, "but it's not that bad."
"The death grip on my hand would say otherwise."
She laughs nervously and loosens her grasp. "Sorry about that."
"It's okay. You know, if you close your eyes and focus on the pain, you start to feel really good. It's the endorphins and adrenaline, but I feels indescribably good."
So she closes her eyes. I wish I'd had someone to tell me that when I got my first. She stays like that until she's done.
"Olivia?"
"Yeah?" she opens her eyes and looks down. "Oh, you done?"
Jason gives her a strange look. "Yeah, about five minutes now."
"Oh.." She looks down and frowns, because it's already bandaged. He hands me a box of bandages and two bars of undyed, unscented soap for us to clean them with.
"Remember, do not pick the scabs, or you'll be back here getting them redone. Okay, well I have another appointment, so I'll leave the bill with Megan at the desk."
I grab her coat and help her stand. She's dizzy from the chemicals rushing through her, and I can't help but smile. We walk out front and I pay.
On the way home, she won't stop fingering her new tattoo, even though it's through a bandage and her pants. We get to the house and the two others are standing outside waiting for us. She gets herself out of the car and looks at us. "Why do I get the feeling it isn't over, and you guys are planning something?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Cragen says.
She walks in the front door, looking suspiciously at us. Inside, a beautiful long black dress is hanging with a pair of black strappy shoes just below it. "Oh. My. God."
"You are the glue that holds all us together. John's partners come and go, as well as our ADA's. But our group has stood the longest. It's as if we feel the need to protect you, and in return you keep us sane. So tonight, we're going to make you feel special. The guys say that since I'm your best friend I should take you out, so I'll be back at seven, that gives you an hour." She's shocked, so she just nods.
Cragen, John, and I leave, and outside we all start laughing. "We finally did something to shock the infallible Olivia Benson." Cragen jokes.
"Yeah. Well, we got to get over to John's place and get my Tux." *********** She's looking in her mirror doing her makeup, and apparently she doesn't even notice me beside her. Must be in Olivia-land. "You don't need it," I say to her.
She looks up at me. "I know."
"Have you noticed yet that everything we've gotten you is something you wear? I just realized that. Here's the last bit of what we got you," I extend the little black box and she opens it. Inside is a pair of teardrop diamond earrings.
"You guys must be dirt poor now," she says, shocked, and starts to take out the ones she already put in an puts in the ones we got her. ******** Dinner was excellent, and now we're back home drinking wine and talking. We're both on our third glass, and she pulls out a small wrapped box with a bow on it. "Here. This isn't all I got you, but it's a start."
I unwrap the box, and I want to cry but I don't. It's a glass box with a bullet inside. On it is engraved: March 24, 2003 OUCH.
"Must've been fun saying, 'hey doc, can I get that in a take-out?'"
"I had to wait until the case was over, and annoy the guys down at evidence until one of them coughed it up- for a price. He made me pay for the bullet I had been shot with. Needless to say, I thought It was stupid, but I wanted to give you the bullet I took for you so I paid him ninety bucks for it."
"Damn. Don't worry, I know plenty of guys who would shoot you and let you keep the bullet for free," I pat her on the arm as I stand up to go into the kitchen, swaying. I open the refrigerator and can't find anything to snack on, but settle for grapes. I grab a bunch and walk back to the couch. She starts to pick some off and pop them in her mouth.
"Tasty," she says, eating another. She falls quiet and is giving me a strange feeling like something's up.
"Liv?" I ask her. She looks up at me like she wants to say something, but she doesn't. Something tells me not to push her, so I don't. "Okay, well, I'm tired. If you want me, you know where I'll be."
I go into my room and strip down to my undershirt and boxers. I lay there, staring at my ceiling for about a half an hour before she's in my doorway. "Can't sleep," she says before she slides in beside me, turning her back towards me. I roll over towards my side of the bed, trying to give her more room. I can feel her moving trying to get comfortable. Without any warning, she's curved against my back with her arm over me as if I'm her teddy bear. Her hand lands on a bare spot where my shirt has ridden up. I figure she's asleep and doesn't realize her position, until her fingers lightly draw unknown masterpieces on my skin.
"Olivia?"
"Hmm?" She is awake.
"You're drunk," I try to slide away but there's nowhere to slide to, so I take her hand and put it behind me, rolling onto my back.
"No, I'm not," she says, and we both know she's at least a little inebriated.
"You are."
"Okay, maybe I am. I don't care. I've wanted to do this for months," and her hand is back under my shirt and on my stomach. I should remove her hand, but I really don't want to. I remove it anyway.
"Good, if you've wanted to for so long, you'll still feel that way when you're sober. It isn't that I don't want to do this, but I would rather hear sober feelings than drunken ones. So if you still feel that way when you haven't been drinking, we'll talk." She sighs. A drunken annoyed Olivia Benson. All I can do is hope she doesn't hate me in the morning. She gets out of my bed and leaves, slamming my bedroom door behind her, making me jump.
Needless to say, I didn't sleep at all. I'd had the urge to think of her that way before, but I suppressed those thoughts every time. Partners. Best friends. I thought that was what we were meant to be. Now, I have at least twenty different thoughts raging through my head at once and I don't know what to do. So I just lay there. We're on call until the day after tomorrow, so we'll be in the house for the next two days.
At seven I decide I should get up, so I go into the kitchen to make some coffee, and there's already a pot made, with Olivia sitting at the counter drinking a cup. "Hey," I say.
"Hey," and immediately we fall into uncomfortable silence. I get myself a cup and doctor it to my liking. I can tell we both want to say something but neither of us wants an awkward situation. So it catches me by surprise when she's the bold one. "I just want you to know it wasn't the alcohol. I think you at least deserve to know the truth. I do have those fuzzy feelings for you." She's staring into the oblivion that is her coffee cup as if it will solve all the mysteries of the universe.
I don't say anything. I know that walking away without speaking is a real dick thing to do, but I need a shower. When I'm done, I throw on some comfortable jeans and a grey t-shirt, followed by a thin grey sweater. Now there's this feeling in the back of my skull that's building and, for the life of me, I can't identify it.
I go to the kitchen and she's sitting in the living room watching TV. I open the refrigerator and there's nothing to eat, so I slam the door. "God dammit! Do we not have anything to eat? Were we planning on doing dinner tomorrow night?!"
"Dinner's at John's house, remember?" she doesn't even look up from the TV. For some reason that really pisses me off.
"I'm going for a jog," I say, grabbing my coat.
"Ok."
It was more of a 'running for my life' type thing than it was a 'jog.' I get back to the house and race around to find her. "Olivia?" I call out.
"In here!" she calls. Her bedroom. The one place I wasn't looking... where's murphy when you need him (to hold still so you can punch him)? She's putting a CD in her stereo, and I grab her arm and swing her around, praying it wasn't to forceful. I back her against a wall, pissed.
"You can not do this shit to me. Not now. Not when my life is in order and finally back on track. I will not let you create new disorder!" I know it's coming out through my teeth, and there's a tiny hint of fear in her eyes.
"Who says it will be disorderly? Because I was expecting good things, not bad." I was wrong. She doesn't fear me, she understands that I'm just really fucking confused.
"The egg has to crack before the bird can fly. Something bad always happens whenever something good comes along," I say, calmer, and now I back off. I end up sitting on her bed and putting my head in my hands.
"Fine," she says, lifting my chin up and straddling me at the same time, "the bad came when you got divorced. Here is the good reward for that crisis." And she kisses me. I should really, really be trying to push her off me right now, but I'm not.
She starts to pull my shirt off, but I grab her hands and break away from her mouth. "Not yet." There's confusion in her eyes, so I kiss her. After a minute or so, I stop. "I need to... uh... do something else." I try to stand up and she takes the hint and gets off me. I try not to look at her, but I do anyway. She looks hurt. "It's not you," I say, kissing her. "I just don't want to get too deep right now."
She nods her understanding. "It's ok." she kisses me lightly, smiling, and I leave.
I go in my room and close my door. I lay down on the bed and think, staying there until five o'clock, at which point I get up and take a shower- another one. I just run the water really hot and lean against the back wall, occasionally hitting my head back against it.
What can I do? Like I said, I've suppressed those thoughts of her until now. This is going to change things. I mean, things are already changed. I can't go back to two days ago. We could pretend none of this happened, but neither of us are good liars.
I stay like that, thinking and hitting my head back against the wall, until the water runs cold. The knocking on the door is what stirs me. "Yeah?" I call out.
I hear the door open and she walks inside. "Hey," she playfully taps her fingers on the glass of the door.
"Hi"
"I haven't seen you in a few hours, I was making sure you didn't shrivel up and die."
I turn off the water and stick a hand out of the shower door. "Towel?" She hands me one, and I wrap it around my waist before I step out. I can feel her eyes boring holes in me. I grab another towel and start drying my torso before I look at her. She's got this ear-to-ear grin on her face. "What are you so happy about?" I run the towel quickly through my hair and toss on my t shirt, returning to look at her.
"Nothing. I just like looking at you is all," she leans up against me and kisses me.
"The feeling is mutual," I say when I pull back. "I like looking at me, too." She playfully smacks me. I walk into my room and grab my jeans. I turn around and she's standing in the bathroom doorway, still smiling. "You mind?"
"No, not at all," she motions for me to continue. So I turn my back and put my pants on under my towel. When I turn back around, she's pouting. "Cheater."
"I'm not known for playing fair," I walk past her, and grab her around her waist, taking her down on my bathroom floor, making her squeal. "That was a funny noise," I say, before dipping my head down to kiss her. The kiss gets deeper, and she slides her hands under my shirt and lays them just below my rib cage, gently scratching me. I pull back and lick my lips, my eyes half- open. "That feels good."
"Yeah? What about," she paused, scratching a bit harder right over my ribs, smiling, "this?"
"Mmmm, yeah. That feels good, too. Feeling playful, are we?" I play with a few strands of her hair.
"Not particularly. Just..." she trails off, thinking about something. I think she's focused on the spot on the ceiling just above of my head.
"I don't know about you, but everything about being around you makes me happier than I've been in-"
"Two years?" she cuts me off.
I nod, "yeah." I stand up, then help pull her up.
She touches my upper arm, "It's been longer for me. It's taken so much for me not to say anything until now. The alcohol did lower my inhibitions, and I'm glad it did. It was easier for me. But maybe it would help us if we actually talked about it. So far, all it's been is little kisses here and there over the course of an eighteen hour period."
"Okay. I'm scared out of my mind. Things were easy two days ago when you were my best friend. Now I don't know what we are and I don't know what I want to do. It's a decision between risking the best friend I've ever had for something more or forfeiting the chance to be something more to guarantee that friendship. But I don't think the latter is even an option anymore. I mean, what if things go sour? Brian has trouble talking to you and you only dated a little while. I love you and don't want to risk destroying what we have."
"I love you too. Way more than I should. That's why I'm willing to risk it, because I don't see it as a risk. And even so, it would be absolutely worth it," she says the last bit with a grin.
"I guess so." I step up to her and play with a piece of hair in front of her face, "I'm just kind of scared. But sometimes its good to take risks," I bend down and kiss her.
She pulls back after a few seconds of kissing and looks at me, "You sure? Because I don't want to drag you into anything you don't want to do."
I nod, "Yeah. Yeah, I really wanna do this," I motion a hand between us.
"Good, because I was gonna have to hurt you if you said otherwise," she smiles, and I'm not so scared anymore.