Title: The Well of Olivia
Author: mindy35
Rating: K+/T, sexual themes.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made or infringement intended.
Spoilers: Does the second episode count as a spoiler?
Pairing: Elliot/Olivia
Summary: Missing scene/post-ep for "A Single Life". Olivia is a well and Elliot's fallen in.
(A/N: For those who can't remember back this far, while on a case Benson and Stabler visit a friend of his at the New York Ledger who says that Elliot's new partner is a babe and a stone-cold fox but that their victim is "a deep, deep well you'd fall into"….)
"A deep, deep well you'd fall into?" Olivia pressed the button on the Ledger's elevator and watched the doors bump shut. "What does that even mean…?"
Her partner stood with his back against the rear wall. "It means…you know…a woman who can own your soul with a single look."
"Uh." She gave a nod of understanding then shot him a look from beneath her brows. "But I'm not a well?"
"Well…" He shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugged his shoulders, "that's a matter of opinion."
"So I am a well?" she murmured, looking more confused than pleased.
"From where I stand…?" Elliot bobbed his head at the scuffed carpet then lifted it to look at her, a small smile on his lips, "You are definite well material."
"But—" she held up a finger, gave a doubtful tsk, "see, am I deep well?"
"Oh. Profoundly," he deadpanned, straightening from the wall.
Olivia gave a soft snort and bowed her head. Elliot rocked on his heels for a blessedly brief a moment. Then the elevator doors opened and he waved an arm, ushering her out.
"And you're telling me," she went on, walking backwards across the threshold, "that this is a good thing?"
"For you," he said, stepping after her into the crowded foyer of the New York Ledger.
His partner shook her head and turned her back, moving on long, purposeful legs towards the revolving door that spilled out onto the street. Elliot followed, a few steps behind and smile fading. He couldn't help feeling that it wasn't such a great thing for him.
-x-
A few days later, they were treading a careful path down a narrow, slimy set of steps to view a body when, ahead of him, Olivia paused. She touched his arm, pointed her torch at a particularly crumbly step and warned in a low voice:
"Don't fall, okay?"
The moment the words were out of her mouth, Elliot knew. It was too late.
She may not have looked like a particularly deep well to his buddy at the Ledger, but Olivia Benson was his well. And he'd fallen. He didn't know how and he didn't know when. He just knew it was hard.
He could still remember the sinking sensation in his stomach when Captain Cragen first introduced them. She'd smiled a blindingly bright smile and clasped his hand in a tight shake. She was green and that annoyed him. She was beautiful – the kind of beautiful that could knock a grown man on his ass and have him scrambling just to form a sentence – and that annoyed him much more. It created a visceral response in him that he couldn't control. And Elliot Stabler didn't like things he couldn't control. But for the sake of the job he was so committed to, he reasoned himself into a grudging acceptance. After all, he'd worked with beautiful women before and it had never posed a problem. There were plenty of great looking women on the force and after a while, a good cop ceased to notice. They became just another boy in blue.
Why should Olivia Benson be any different?
That's what he told himself anyway – knowing full well that she was different. Not that he could figure out why exactly. She was not just a pretty face, that became clear within the first hour he worked with her. And though she was green, she was also tenacious, resourceful, scrupulous, passionate. She was his kind of cop and within weeks they were working together better than many of the duos who'd been partnered together years. Even so, he saw no reason why he should feel like his day hadn't begun until she entered the squad room and took her seat opposite him. He saw no reason why his heart should pick up its pace whenever she stood too close or if by accident one part of her body brushed one part of his. Or why he'd go out of his way to make it happen again, sidling in or leaning down just to re-experience that tremendous thump-thump-thump she triggered in his chest. He couldn't figure out why his ears instinctively perked up on detecting the slightest trace of her voice. Or why his eyes seemed so obsessed with mapping her face, memorizing the exact color of her eyes, the unique curve of her mouth, the sometimes unruly curl in her hair. He couldn't account for the fact that the syllables of her name had started to possess a strange sort of magic for him, whoever uttered them. Any more than he could he account for the dreams that thankfully only occurred when he slept alone in the crib at the stationhouse. Dreams of dusting naked, heated skin with his fingertips. Of palming the small of a back, stroking the swell of a stomach, exploring the softness of an inner thigh. Dreams of cupping one full breast with his hand while burying his face in the warm curve of a neck. Dreams of open mouths and closed eyes and desperate, heavy, hungry breaths...
He made sure to erase her face or any hint of her presence from the dreams the second that he woke. Made it easier when the images came back to him in snatches as they were pounding the streets or staking out a residence. Then, those images seemed more ridiculous and less dangerous. Then, he felt in control of the situation. Then, Elliot could believe he was a happily married man with four wonderful, healthy kids. And a new partner for whom he felt merely professional respect and platonic friendship.
He wasn't sure how long he could or would have to keep up this pattern of self-preserving denial. It was possible Benson wouldn't be able to stick it out in the Special Victims Unit. Her history, her passion, her inexperience were all checks against her. Two years was the usual tour at SVU and not many made it that long. He knew she'd give it her all and for her sake he hoped she made it work. For his own, he wasn't entirely sure if wanted her there or gone. With her there, work was exciting again. Life was exciting, surprising, fun even. Every day, he stood on the rim of that deep, deep well and told himself he could simply enjoy the view, sip the sparkling water and stay on the surface where it was safe. And every single day without fail, Elliot found himself plummeting into its depths before he even had the chance to stop himself from hurling in his heart, soul and self.
He hadn't reached the bottom of that well yet. Occasionally – when he absolutely couldn't avoid it – he wondered what would happen when he did. For the present, he was just in an endless, uncontrolled free-fall with no end in sight. He'd started falling the second she seized his hand and smiled that life-altering smile. And Elliot Stabler knew – he hadn't stopped falling since.
So when the torchlight bounced off those slick stone walls, highlighting the face he couldn't completely erase from his dreams no matter how hard he tried, when her voice uttered those three little words to him in the pitch dark – "Don't fall, okay?" – two words echoed back to him from deep in his gut.
Too late.
Too late.
Too late.
END.