Title: You Were Burned, About to Burn (You're Still on Fire).
Fandom: SVU.
Pairing: Elliot/Olivia.
Summary: Enter Jo Marlowe.
Warnings: Canon-typical themes; infidelity; discussion of (past, brief) Jo/Elliot & (unstable) Elliot/Kathy. The last chapter has a implied/non-explicit sex scene.

Notes: Okay, so. I've been rewatching season eleven and I just… had to. I actually love Jo, and I'm still glad canon didn't just use her as a tool to create tension between Liv and Elliot, but her character sets up too many good opportunities for E/O. So here we are.

Starts in 'Torch' and runs right through 'Ace' and 'Wannabe' to post 'Shattered.' Some dialogue taken directly from the episodes, but hopefully not too much. I'd recommend maybe watching the eps, but it's not necessary to understand what's going on (I don't think).

This is the first of three chapters (maybe four, depending on how long the last one is). It's mostly finished, so with a little luck it'll all be uploaded soon.

Title taken from Richard Siken's 'Straw House, Straw Dog.' Enjoy!


torch.

The crime scene is a whirlwind, the road and home barricaded, the air thick and heavy with smoke. Bodies litter the street: cops, firemen, medics. Innocent bystanders. A crowd is growing, everyone who heard the sirens out for a look, their eyes alight with curiosity, sorrow, easing adrenaline.

Olivia follows Elliot through the mess, toward their newly assigned ADA. His old partner.

She doesn't know how to feel.

"You never told me you worked with another woman," she says, and it's not quite accusatory, but it's not not, either. Like so much of them, it's an awful in between.

"What are you talking about?" he says, throws it over his shoulder. "I've been telling you Jo Marlowe stories for years."

"Except the one where Jo is actually a woman."

It's lighthearted—playful, almost. She has no real reason to be upset, she knows, and she isn't. Not really. It's just... something she'd have liked to know.

She doesn't ask herself why.

Jo turns around in the next second, catches Elliot's eye before looking to Olivia, too, and it's weird, Olivia thinks as she watches them. Surreal to see him like this with someone else.

Surreal, and yet she can't help but like her.

[]

Two days, two dead children, and now a perv with a fire fetish. Olivia misses the days where it would've surprised her.

She watches Elliot slip inside the interrogation room, sees him place the extinguisher on the floor near the door, hears his voice filter out to where she and Jo stand. She has no idea what his plan is, but she's hoping it'll work. Wants this to be over with sooner rather than later.

"Tell a story. Build empathy."

Murmured words: knowing, complacent. Olivia can't help but look toward Jo, can't pretend not to notice the ongoing commentary. The proof that she knows how Elliot works just as well as Olivia does.

"Use your family."

She wants to ignore it, to focus instead on what's playing out behind the window, on what Elliot is saying, but it's easier said than done. Olivia can't help it—the words crawl their way under her skin. Irk her in a way she can't describe.

It's like Jo is trying to prove something, like she's trying to showcase something. Like she wants everyone to know Elliot was her partner first; that she knows him. Had helped make him the detective he is today.

It's... tiring, more than anything. Her partnership with Elliot is in a good spot—has been for a while now. The last thing Olivia wants is to go back to questioning everything.

[]

They get the confession, for all the good it'll do them. Jo claims it'll be thrown out, and though she argues, part of Olivia believes her. She can see it, can practically hear the word coercion being thrown around. As if it matters when two children are dead. As if Elliot hasn't done worse.

"Cut the euphemisms, Olivia," Jo is saying, is looking at her like she already knows what she's thinking. The no-nonsense approach is something Olivia can at least appreciate.

"Just because you were a cop, doesn't mean that you're on our side."

She's been trying, because there's no reason not to and because Jo means something to Elliot, but the words are still true. The unit's been through enough ADAs that she knows better than to blindly trust one, no matter how much she trusts Elliot's judgement.

"I wasn't just a cop. I was Elliot's partner. I wouldn't betray him any more than you would."

Jo looks her in the eye when she speaks, and as the words leave her mouth, the picture inside Olivia's head falls into place; starts to make sense. She can't help the smile, the small tilt of her head.

"You transferred back here to work with him again."

There's a pause, and even as Jo denies it, Olivia doesn't quite believe her. There's something about her, about them. A certain vibe they radiate that makes Olivia's curiosity itch.

"Speaking of Elliot," Jo starts, and this time there's a smirk on her face, a glint in her eye. "You and he ever...?"

The question remains unfinished, but it doesn't need to be. Olivia's well aware of what comes next. Has been asked the question too many times to count.

"No," she says. Shakes her head. "He's married."

The quick, quiet laugh is unexpected; the sardonic undertone irritating. "Yeah," Jo says, and a hollow feeling sinks into Olivia's stomach. A whirlwind of emotions passing through too quick for her to catch.

One word, and a billion follow up questions.

She watches Jo turn, tries not to think of the implication. The lingering disbelief. "Where are you going?"

Jo turns back to her at the door. "To rescue our case against Pizzaface," she says. "You coming?"

[]

She doesn't talk to Elliot about it.

She should, she thinks—wants to, even. But she doesn't. Isn't sure how to bring it up. There are boundaries, things they talk about and things they don't. A potential affair falls into the latter.

Besides, she's not sure she wants to know.

"Want a lift?"

Elliot's voice cuts through her musings, draws her back to reality. They're in the bullpen, finishing up for the night. Almost everyone else has already left.

"It's late," she says, and what she means is you were due home hours ago, is my apartment's out of your way. She knows he knows. "You sure?"

"Yeah." He's leaning against her desk, bag in hand and jacket thrown over his arm. His gaze expectant as he looks at her.

"Alright," she says. "Give me a minute."

The car ride is quiet, the both of them exhausted. Overworked. Olivia doesn't understand why Elliot does this, why he chooses to drop her off instead of just going home. God knows he could use the extra sleep.

"You think he did it?" Elliot asks when they're halfway to her apartment. "Sullivan."

"I don't know," she tells him. Part of her still wants to believe in the good in people, still wants to think that a father could never willingly kill his children. The other part knows better. "You?"

Elliot shrugs, one shoulder lifting as they turn a corner. "He looks good for it," he says, but he doesn't sound a hundred percent certain.

Olivia hums. "Nice trick with the onions," she tells him, changes the topic. Her mouth twitches at the memory, the image of Jo's surprised expression. She wouldn't admit it, but she'd enjoyed watching Elliot in there. Had liked knowing something Jo didn't.

Elliot grins, quick and fleeting. "Too bad it didn't work," he says, and there is that, Olivia thinks, but she isn't too worried. This case is hardly their most complicated—they'll get it soon enough.

The rest of the drive is mostly silent, Olivia's gaze focused on the passing city. Part of her mind is still thinking about Jo. About Elliot. The questions she wants to ask sat somewhere at the back of her throat.

She doesn't say anything.

"Whose turn for coffee tomorrow?" Elliot asks as they pull up to her building.

"Yours," Olivia says with a smirk. She grabs her handbag from between her feet, pushes the car door open. "And I switched to tea."

Elliot groans. "Again?"

"Again."

"Great," he says, and Olivia laughs. Steps out of the car and shuts the door behind her.

"It's better for you," she tells him, but Elliot's only response is a disbelieving hum.

"Blink your lights," he calls out through the open window, and Olivia smiles at the concern. At their little tradition.

She lifts her hand in a half wave, turns on her heel, and disappears into the building.

[]

Not talking doesn't work. It very rarely does.

Olivia can feel Elliot staring at her from across the desk, knows he's confused about the tension that's started to develop between them—not too much, but enough to notice. The strain growing as the case develops. She waits, knows Elliot will bring it up sooner rather than later.

It's only minutes until he stands, disappears for a moment. Olivia keeps her head down, taps her pen against the paperwork she's trying to fill out and reads the same sentence for a third time. When Elliot returns, it's with tea. He places the steaming mug on her desk, turns so he's sat on the edge: ankles crossed, arms curled against his chest, body bent forward so they're close. So she's the only one who can hear him when he talks.

"Did I do something?" he asks, and Olivia drops her pen. Pushes her seat back slightly so she can lean back, look up at him.

"No," she says, because he hasn't. The expression he gives her makes it obvious he thinks she's bullshitting, and Olivia can't stop her sigh. "I don't know."

"You don't know," Elliot repeats. His confusion is obvious.

"I just..." Olivia starts, trails off. "Do you really think Sullivan didn't do it?"

Elliot arches a brow. Hadn't expected that to be her issue. "That's what Jo thinks."

"No, I—" Olivia stops, swallows. Tries again. "I know that's what Jo thinks," she says. "I'm asking what you think."

Elliot tilts his head. "It's plausible," he says. And then, "You don't trust her judgement?"

He almost sounds defensive, the way Olivia knew he would, and she wants to sigh again. It's not that she doesn't trust Jo, it's that she doesn't agree with how quick Elliot is to back her play. How willing he is to switch courses just because she said to. She knows Elliot—knows he wouldn't be half as amenable if they'd been assigned a random ADA, and it's bothering her. Nagging at her.

(She's not jealous. It's a reoccurring thought, something she keeps having to repeat to herself. She's not jealous—has no reason to be. No right to be.)

(And yet.)

"I just think you were a little quick to jump ship," she murmurs.

The furrow in Elliot's brow deepens. "You're the one who had doubts," he points out, and Olivia can feel a groan press at the back of her teeth.

"I know, but—"

"What's really bothering you?"

His voice cuts through her sentence, clear and conscious, and Olivia curses how well he can read her. Knows there's no point in trying to talk around it now.

She swallows, scans the room to see if anyone's listening, and asks, "Did anything happen between the two of you?"

The implication is clear. Elliot recoils, expression switching to one of shock. "What?"

"She just... said something," Olivia tells him. "Made it seem like maybe you had."

"I—" Elliot cuts himself off. Pauses. Emotion swirls in the pit of Olivia's stomach: a combination of panic and dread and fear. He should have denied it by now, she thinks. The silence speaks volumes.

"Okay," she says. Leans back, curls her hands around her armrests as if preparing to stand. "You don't have to expla—"

"Wait!" Elliot reaches out as Olivia gets up, curls a hand around the crook of her elbow so she can't walk away. He steps close, stands in her personal space and speaks in low tones so no one can overhear. "We didn't sleep together," he says. "Alright? It's nothing like that."

"But it's something."

Elliot's expression confirms her statement. "There was a case," he says. "An undercover gig. Things got out of control. We didn't. She wanted to, but—"

"Kathy," Olivia supplies, and Elliot sighs.

"Yeah."

Olivia stares, doesn't really know what to think. Truthfully, she's surprised Elliot's telling her anything at all. "Does Kathy know?" she asks, because it seems important, somehow. Because it's something to say.

"Yeah," Elliot says again, only this time there's an edge to it. Something that makes Olivia think the revelation didn't go over well. "She's not… the biggest fan of Jojo."

"Right."

Olivia's voice is flat, the silence that stretches awkward. They stand there, unmoving. A million thoughts running through both their minds.

Elliot's the first to break the silence. "What'd she say to you?" he asks.

"She asked me if we had," Olivia tells him, and Elliot nods like it should've been obvious. Takes the tiniest step back, his hand falling from Olivia's arm. Olivia pretends not to notice.

"Figures," he murmurs. Olivia arches a brow in question and Elliot shakes his head slightly. "She likes riling people up," he explains. "It's probably way…"

"She acts the way she does?"

"Yeah." Elliot smiles, but it fades a moment later. His expression serious as he stares at Olivia. "It didn't mean anything," he says. "I was young and she—"

"You don't have to explain," Olivia says again. It doesn't stop him.

"I want to," Elliot tells her. "I don't want you to think I'm the type of person who does… that."

Olivia's mouth twitches, the smile soft and short-lived. "I don't," she says, and means it. Sometimes she thinks it's the only thing she knows about him.

Elliot stares for a moment more before he nods again. Exhales. "So we're good?" he asks.

"We're good," Olivia tells him. She turns, happy for the conversation to be over, but stops at the buzz of her phone. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she grabs it. Unlocks it to reveal the text. Jo's contact flashes up at her, the message one that draws a sigh from her lips.

Elliot has already stepped away, back toward his desk, and Olivia has to reach out. Hook a finger in the cuff of his sleeve to stop him before he can sit down.

"Not so fast," she says, shows him the screen. "We have a man's innocence to prove."