Disclaimer: I didn't invent any of these characters and I bow to the God of the Great Dick Wolf.
Please review this, even if you just say "Bleh." I'm new to fan fic and very insecure.
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Olivia knocked impatiently on the door, angry at herself for being there in the first place. It didn't help that no one answered. She knocked again and was about to leave when she heard several locks tumbling, and the door finally opened.
"Thanks for coming," Elliot said, staring at the wall about six inches to the right of Olivia's head. "Come in," he added, which she didn't.
"You're blocking the doorway," Olivia said, half angry and half concerned. She'd known Elliot to enjoy an occasional beer before, but his breath smelled as if he'd been at a bar all day.
Elliot moved aside. Olivia hoped he'd sway a bit, but she had to admit that he didn't seem particularly drunk. He looked more frightening than impaired. He didn't have enough hair for it to be disheveled, but somehow his entire face looked slightly out of whack. His clothes were a total mess for Elliot standards; button-down shirt open at the collar, no tie, and unevenly tucked in. She hated to admit it, but she was worried.
"Do you mind talking outside?" Elliot asked, locking his door and walking toward a flight of stairs at the end of the hallway. "I try to spend as little time inside as possible." Olivia followed him up a dark flight of stairs, lit by a single uncovered bulb. She'd visited Elliot and Kathy countless times over the years, and it hurt her to see her partner living like this. Olivia's shoes stuck to the steps in places. But when they got to the roof and went outside, the rickety walk was worth it. Elliot might live in a dump, Olivia thought, but the view of the city is fantastic. It was starting to get dark out and the lights looked like surreal Christmas decorations.
"I spend a lot of time out here," Elliot said, pulling over a beat-up lawn chair. "Nicer view than inside." He lifted a ratty cushion from the chair, shook it off, and put it back down, motioning for Olivia to sit.
"I'd rather stand," she said.
"Listen," Elliot started. He'd rehearsed this conversation a hundred times in his head, and realized that there was no way he could possibly say what he really meant, let alone make up for damage done. He kicked a pebble on the roof and forced himself to look Olivia in the eyes. It was easier outside, in the fading light. "I was an asshole yesterday. I was angry. It came out all wrong," he said, knowing that it was coming out wrong again.
"You're right. You were an asshole. I don't care if you were angry, and I think your message came out loud and clear. The only reason I'm here now is that I'd hate to see seven years of partnership end on such a sour note, so I thought I'd give you the chance to apologize," Olivia said, her voice rising as she spoke.
Elliot fought the urge to butt in with a "Hey! You've got some apologizing to do, too," and managed to hold his temper. This is how you got in trouble in the first place, he thought.
"Here's how I see it," Elliot said, taking a swig from the beer in his hand, annoyed that there were only a few drops left. He set it on the edge of the roof wall behind him, and leaned back against the ledge. "We both took an oath to serve and protect. We both broke that oath yesterday, and—"
"Like Hell I did!" Olivia shouted, starting to get up from the chair.
"Ok, ok. I broke that oath yesterday and it scared the shit out of me. A little boy died because I was scared of losing you. I don't know if I can do my job if it means having to decide between protecting you and little kids." He looked away, scanning the view from the rooftop. "You're all I've got," he added, barely audibly.
"I'd be in just as much danger if I were someone else's partner," Olivia said. "Even more, if they wouldn't look out for me," she added, still seething.
Elliott turned around, put his hands on the ledge, and leaned over. It barely reached halfway up his thighs, and most of his tall body cantilevered over the building.
"Elliot!" Olivia shouted, running over to him despite her anger. "Watch out! That looks dangerous."
Elliot's shoulder froze where Olivia touched it. Damn it, he thought. All he really wanted to do was turn around and grab her into his arms, but his body was apparently sending its off back-off signals without his permission. He half-heartedly wished that she'd accidentally jostle him and he'd lose his balance and fall. Not that he'd ever wish that guilt on Olivia, and of course suicide was a sin. But death by misadventure… Stop it, he told himself again. This isn't why you asked her here.
Elliot turned around and faced Olivia. "I'm sorry," he said. "I was scared. I was angry. I took it out on you. You did nothing wrong. It was my fault. Totally mine. I've fucked this up just the way I've fucked things up with Kathy and the kids and every other goddamn person I've ever cared about." He broke eye contact, picked up his empty beer bottle and just managed to stop himself from smashing it on the ground and covering his own rooftop with shards of glass. "It's getting cold out," he said, instinctively draping his free arm around Olivia. She didn't shove him away as they walked back downstairs to his apartment.
The front door opened onto a small kitchen/dining room. Olivia sat down on a ripped vinyl chair next to a Formica table, brushing off the seat first and surprising herself at finding it clean.
Elliot opened the fridge and took out another beer. "Want one?" he asked, opening his with his pocket knife.
"Sure," Olivia answered, "especially because there doesn't seem to be much else in there. Do you always drink this much now that you and Kathy have split up?"
"Only when my partner wants to split up too," Elliot answered, handing her a beer. They drank in non-companionable silence. "I have some crackers and cheese if you want some," Elliot said.
"Actually I've starving," Olivia answered, quickly followed by, "nevermind," as a cockroach ran out of the cupboard door.
"You try paying for mortgage and four daughters and rent on a cop's salary," Elliot snapped, immediately regretting it.
"Hey, it's ok. I'm sorry," Olivia said. "I mean it. I'm sorry you have to live…" She stopped, afraid of insulting her partner. Her ex-partner. How did things suddenly get so complicated? she thought.
"In a cockroach-infested dump," Elliot finished for her. They met each others' eyes, and smiled for the first time. "I've got some bread behind the beer," he said, opening the fridge again. "Don't worry, bought it yesterday around the corner. Panne. It's good." He took a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese out of the refrigerator, looked around, then put them back when he realized there was no place else to put them. He opened several cupboards until he found a single plate, which he washed, dried with paper towels, and set on the kitchen table. By now he'd finished his beer, so he set the empty bottle in the sink, along with quite a few others, opened the fridge again, and put the bread and cheese on the plate. He got himself another beer and asked Olivia if she'd like one.
"Why not?" she asked.
Elliot set the beers on the table and sat in the only other chair. He opened the beers with his pocket knife again, got up and wiped it on a paper towel, and used it to cut up several slices of cheese. Olivia wondered if that knife was the only kitchen utensil he owned. She tried to stay angry at him, but he looked so dejected. She began to have a better idea of why he'd been so short-tempered lately. And he did apologize, she reminded herself. She took a small bite of bread and cheese. It was actually good. Maybe I am underestimating him, she thought.
"So," Elliot said, taking a gulp of beer.
"So," Olivia answered, a small smile returning to her face. Damn it, she thought. He doesn't seem slightly phased and he must have drunk a six-pack by now, and I'm getting giddy on one and a half beers. Or relief? a small voice said in her head. Or something else?
---to be continued sometime soon, with the more mature part included---
---to be continued sometime soon, with the more mature part included---
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