Partner, Come Home Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I do not own SVU or the characters associated with SVU.
It had been six weeks. Six weeks since she last saw her partner. Six weeks since they ignored the unspoken, yet understood need to keep touching to a minimal. However innocent, compromising personal space was clearly dangerous. There was a line, however fine it was, that she tried like hell to respect. Sometimes, that line didn't matter. Sometimes, they needed to ignore or even remove the line. Sometimes, no one else would do.
He had called her, finally. He said he would and he finally did. He asked her to come to him. He had left New York for what was supposed to be time away, time to regroup and make some decisions. He had left his family, his children. He couldn't stand straight in front of his children without feeling the punishing blows his conscious delivered. He needed to be alone and they said they understood. How could they? She did. She understood him all too well. She was the only one who did sometimes. Yet he shut her out, blocked her from his mind. He had to. It, she, life was too much. He left it with promises to return when he was ready. He called her and she was coming.
She relaxed back in the seat. Slight turbulence had disturbed her, or relieved her from her own tortuous thoughts. She missed him terribly. She worried constantly. She prayed continuously he would contact her, and finally he did. He asked her to come to Florida where he had retreated. He had wanted to get as far away from New York and all that was his life. She didn't hesitate in booking her flight. Getting time off wasn't a problem, especially after all they had been through. In fact, she had refused the time when it was originally offered. Scared to be idle, scared to be still within her head. Needed to work, needed to focus on something, anything other than the pain that came from losing. Losing her partner, her best friend, the only person who truly understood who she was. Now she would take the time. He had finally called for her and she wouldn't refuse him.
His hands gripped the steering wheel of the car he was renting. He found it ironic that he asked for the same make, model as their squad car. He felt comfortable in this particular car and that was more important than even he realized. He was heading to the airport to meet her when she arrived. He found himself excited to see her, yet scared to be with her. She represented so much that he was no longer. That he had given up. She made him want to come home. She made him need to stay away. How did she make him feel anything? How does she make him do anything? Damn Huang. He didn't miss him.
She hated that the look on his face was permanently etched into her mind. The look of shock, horror, disbelief and sorrow. The confidence that she relied on in him, gone in an instant. She wished she could help him, fix him, save him. She hated the helpless feeling that haunted her daily, since he wanted to leave. They shared a bond that many thought of was stronger than that of a husband and wife. A bond that came with a fine line that neither of them crossed. A bond constructed out of trust, loyalty, and yes, love. She loved him, definitely more than she was supposed to. She respected him, so she loved him alone. If he loved her the same, he would come to her. She respected his family, his marriage, him. She was scared to see what had become of him in the weeks since he left. She longed to see him, to put her mind to rest that he was indeed okay in his search.
He entered the airport and made his way to the gate. He checked the times and saw that the incoming from LaGuardia was on-time. Seeing New York on the screen made him homesick, made him angry, sad, and frustrated all at once. He had plenty of time before she would arrive, so he went in search of the airport bar. He wanted, no needed something to settle his nerves. She was the only person he used to feel totally at ease with. The only person that he felt he could be or feel whatever he wanted with, yet he was nervous. He ordered Whiskey as it had been his drink of choice over the last few weeks. He liked how it made him feel. He sat in the bar with his friend Jim Beam and waited. He knew better, but he let his mind carry him back to that day. That day in the squad room and that night in her apartment. He waited, he drank, and he remembered.
She glanced at her watch realizing she would see him soon. The past six weeks had been pure hell and he had abandoned her. It was his fight, but it was their hell. It was always shared between them, except for this time. They went at it alone, and she thought she should be angry with him for that. For abandoning her when she needed him. For leaving her when she knew he needed her. She finished off her own drink, finding it did nothing to tame the brewing fire that she identified as nerves. She so often stayed away from liquor, not trusting her genes. The ones she knew as well as the ones she didn't. There were times, though, that she didn't care. That were times that she envied her mother for being able to escape, even if just for a bit. She closed her eyes and punished herself by letting that day present itself in all it's horror to the forefront of her mind.
He had turned to her, his eyes finding hers immediately. She wasn't close by, but swore she could hear his breathing in the deathly quiet squad room. She was wrong as he wasn't breathing. His actions had taken the breath from him as he looked to her to save him. Nobody moved for fear of making the horrific scene a reality. Until she did. She slowly raised her hands from Sister Peg's chest where her attempts to stop the bleeding proved futile. She glanced down to the innocent and over to the guilty. A young traumatized girl who was a victim herself, yet guilty of murder. Her eyes made their way back to his as he never removed his stare from her, his partner, his life line. Movement caught her attention as officers began to access and process. She wanted to go to him, but found it impossible to move. Sister Peg had been standing only inches from her when the young shooter had fired at anybody and everybody. It wasn't her own survival she was questioning, but the survival of her partner. How would he survive this? How could he survive this.
He heard the gunfire and realized immediately the danger that presented itself. He watched the bullet enter Sister Peg and realized she was a child, nowhere near a sure shot. As officers and the intended fell, he grabbed his gun and scrambled for cover. He was hoping like hell that Olivia had found a way to protect herself as well. The young shooter had trusted Olivia however no one was safe from her grief. He called her name and felt at least a twinge of relief as her eyes found his. The shooting stopped as he desperately tried to talk her down. Her hand was shaking as she seemed to realize what her actions had caused. She turned to her initial target as he taunted her and aimed to kill. He had no choice as he fired to stop, fearing she would litter the precinct with bullets again. He hit her, he stopped her. He was immediately on his feet and had her in his arms as she managed a few words and a few last breaths. He killed her. A young grief-stricken girl about the same age as one of his own daughters. He held her head in his hands until she was gone and then slowly lowered it to the hard floor. He had shot a child because he had to. It wasn't okay. It would never be okay. He looked for her and found her. Her face frozen in horror as she watched the young teen die in her partner's arms. For all the conversation they were able to have through their eyes alone, there were no words.
She slowly made her way to him, wiping her bloodied hands on her pants as she crawled across the floor. Her heart was the only sound she was hearing as the squad room was suddenly filled with noise and movement. She reached him only to find him staring at her, but not seeing her. He was in shock, not unlike everyone else present, but the burden of his actions caused him to disappear. She called his name, desperately wanting him to acknowledge her, to just see her. That would be enough for right now. He did and she pulled his hands from the child in front of them. She held them until he stood pulling her to her full height along with him. He looked from her eyes to the victim; his victim. She moved them back away as the first EMT arrived. He told them what the already knew and moved on with his team to start accessing the wounded, pronouncing the dead.
She sat on his desk in front of him as he sat in his chair. She tried to block his view with her body, but he watched as the young girl was removed from the squad room. He could feel her legs against his and knew she was shaken. He wanted to calm her, but couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. What was she thinking of him right now. He shot and killed a kid. Her voice was of little comfort to him as she tried in vain to justify his actions. Yeah, she was out of control. Yeah, she could've and would've killed others had he not taken the shot. Yeah, she shot innocence in Sister Peg. And yeah, she may have fired at his partner as well, despite what she was to the young girl. She had lost her mind, and she wasn't skilled enough to not take out his partner, himself, or who knows how many others.
He watched as she was led away from him for questioning. IAB was on scene in no time and he quickly found himself isolated from her as they drilled him. He answered every question, no matter how many different ways they asked it, in a voice he didn't recognize. He shot a child. He killed a child. There was no mystery to solve. His chest was heavy and his head throbbed. He wanted to leave, but didn't want to go. He wanted to scream, but didn't want to make a sound. He wanted to see her, but was afraid of the shame he might find in her eyes. He asked about her, and was told she was being questioned as well. He knew that, he just wanted to know she was still there.
The voice of the pilot pulled her from her thoughts as she wiped the tears she didn't know had fallen down her cheeks. Her chest ached as she worked to pull herself together. She didn't want him to see that she wasn't handling things. She needed him to know she was there for him and that she was strong enough to help him. Strong enough to bring him home.
He had finished off yet another straight shot as the announcement was made that she would be in front of him soon. He stood, instantly feeling the effects of his poison and cursed himself for compromising their reunion. He needed to know that she was okay and he knew she wouldn't tell him if she wasn't. He would have to read her and he knew he would struggle with that now. Damn. He pushed himself toward the gate of the New York arrival. He watched as the plane slowly taxied to it's destination and felt his heart pick up it's pace. He hadn't seen his wife in the six weeks since he left. He had only spoken to her a handful of times, each conversation ending in him refusing to come home. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as he braced himself for his partner. She hadn't asked him to come home. He didn't give her the chance as he didn't want to risk talking to her. He missed her and he knew he would cave if she had asked him to return to New York.
She sat silently as she watched the other passengers gather their belongings. She would wait. Wait until she was the last one. She needed the time as she was unsure now as to why she came. She didn't hesitate when he asked, but now was wavering. Now that it was too late. She pushed herself to her feet and slung her carry-on over her shoulder. She carried her jacket, knowing she definitely wouldn't need it now. She masked her nerves with a smile toward the flight attendant as she made her way off the plane.
He stood next to the window away from the gathering at the gate. He watched as each person made their connection and smiles and hugs and kisses were shared. He couldn't stop the memory of the kiss he shared with her, before he walked away from her. He was in the wrong and he knew it but found himself defenseless to stop it. He saw the love in her eyes as she tried to help him when he arrived at her apartment that night. He had left the precinct and found a hidden, vacant bar and tried to drink away the day. He knew it wasn't the answer, but he didn't care. He didn't want to feel and aside from eating his gun, this was the only answer he could come up with. He was quite proud of himself as he managed to walk the fifteen blocks to her apartment building. It was well after midnight and he told his wife he would be home soon when she called six hours earlier. He had a rough day, she would just have to try to understand. He navigated his way up the stairs to her apartment, not remembering it ever being that difficult and knocked loudly on her door.
She answered the door quickly pulling him inside as to not disturb the neighbors. She had given up calling just an hour ago, stopped looking two hours ago. He was drunk off his ass as he let her jerk him around. She guided him to sit on her couch, but he found it amusing to accuse her of jerking him around. She sat down next to him without as much as a hello and waited. He studied her for a few minutes before he got angry with her. Who did she think she was? Judging him like so. She didn't just kill a kid. If she had, maybe she wouldn't be staring at him with such shame, guilt, pity. He yelled at her and she jumped, but she didn't move. She stood her ground. He always liked that about her. She stood up to him when he was an ass. She let him yell. She let him explain. She let him apologize.
Then he cried and she let him cry. He felt her hands on his face just before he felt her arms around his neck. She smelled so good, but he was only comforted; not aroused. He could smell the shampoo from her recent shower and the wine on her breath. He pulled her arms from him and held her at a distance. He studied her face and asked if she was okay and of course she said she was. He looked over and noticed the bottle of wine nearly empty and was instantly sorry for making her worry. He apologized and she accepted…again.
She settled in next to him on the couch and let him sit with his thoughts. The comfortable silence was all she could offer him in the way of healing. She could only imagine where his mind was for she knew her mind was all over the place. She listened to him when he talked, sat with him when he didn't. She touched him to settle him down when he vented and gave him space when he raged. She was his partner and she had his back. Whatever that meant she had to do. Right now it meant she just had to be and let him do what he had to do.
He watched her carefully as she watched him. Her expressions changed with his and he knew she was hurting too. He had killed that little girl that she had gotten close to. She was always good with children and this one was no exception. He wondered if she was even remotely angry with him. He didn't want to kill her. Hell, he didn't want to shoot her. He found himself watching her mouth as she spoke softly to him. She teased him just about every day, tempting him without trying. She didn't mean to; no she wouldn't disrespect his marriage that way. She wouldn't risk what they had. He was too important to her and he knew it. He never told her, in as many words, just what an honor it was that she thought of him the way she did. She never told him what he could read in her eyes, especially when it mattered. It mattered that she loved him and he hated that he couldn't share those feeling with her. Oh, he loved her, definitely way more than he should as well. He was married and he was catholic and he was forbidden to touch her, to want her, to kiss her. He was drunk and that was the excuse he would use to ease the guilt that would surely compound his current state.
His lips were on hers before he could talk himself out of it. She was surprised, he could sense it and he could feel her pull away from him. He wouldn't let her. He couldn't let her. He felt bad as he prevented her from pulling away from him, clearly she was trying to do the right thing. He was wrong, but right now he didn't care. She could eventually get away from him. She could hit him. Hell, she could even shoot him. Or, she could give in and open her mouth to him. She needed to taste him as much as he needed to feel her.
He crossed the line. He was wrong and he forced her to cross over with him. She didn't fight him too much, she normally didn't. She always had his back and he knew she would this time too. Just took a little convincing, and she was at his side. Loyalty. Partners. Bond. Yeah, he had to find a way to justify what he had just done. He had shot a child. He had ignored his wife. He had gotten drunk. He had kissed his partner. He continued to kiss his partner until she found the strength to stop him. He watched the guilt pass over her features and it transferred right to him. He was sorry. He was angry and he told her so. Made it her fault. Yelled at her and physically pulled her back for more.
She stood her ground. She stayed strong and refused him, with tears in her eyes. He cringed as her words slapped him. She had wanted this for so long, but it was all wrong. He was married. He was hurting. He was drunk. He released her from his grip and waited until the tears fell freely from her eyes before he found a way to transfer his pain to her. She panicked when he announced that he intended to leave. Not just the force, but the state. She pleaded with him to wait until he could think things through with a clear head. She begged him to talk to her. She watched him leave her apartment and hoped he would wake up in the morning sick as hell, but here.
It had been six weeks and she hadn't heard from him. Until he called and asked her to come. She hadn't been eating, she hadn't been sleeping. She was barely functioning. How could he do this to her? Who did he think he was? He didn't own her. He damn straight didn't control her. She sighed as she made her way into the airport knowing he did control her as she looked for him.
His breath caught as she appeared in his view. She hadn't spotted him yet and he knew that only gave him a few seconds to really look at her. How could he be so selfish? She didn't deserve to be treated the way he treated her, yet she always took it. He expected her to tell him to go to hell when he called, but she came. All the way to Florida, because he asked. Her eyes met his and his heart stopped.
She saw him and her breath caught as well. His hair had grown out and his beard was full. His eyes seemed lighter against the color now on his face. She slowly approached him as he carefully made his way to her. They stopped inches from each other and embraced the silence that followed. He slowly moved to pull her bag from her shoulder. He let it drop to the ground at their feet before he closed the distance between them. He tentatively pulled her into an embrace that seemed to instantly ease the pressure that was undeniably building.
He pulled back to look her directly in the eyes. "Why did you come?"
Her voice was a welcomed vice for him. "You asked me to."