A/N: SVU isn't mine, sadly. And just a slight warning, complete fluffapalooza. The title is a wonderful Blake Shelton song that I've wanted to write a fic to for forever. So, here it is.
"Man, you really need to change your answering machine," Fin informed his partner early one morning.
"And why's that?"
"It's sad, that's why. You're pathetic."
John shrugged and made another cup of tea.
He got home late that night and collapsed into bed without checking his messages. The next morning, as he set about making himself breakfast, he noticed there was a message. Pushing play, there was some crap message from Fin that he deleted halfway through and one message that was only a number. The voice sounded so damn familiar that he decided to call the number when he got home. If it wasn't too late.
He went home once in the next four days for a change of clothes, not long enough to even check the machine, let alone make a phone call. Besides, he was too exhausted, mentally and physically, to concentrate his energy on anything other than walking. Thank God he didn't need to think about breathing. When the case was closed and Cragen sent them all home, he slept and when he woke, remembered the number on his answering machine.
"Benson! Gibson wants to know when you're gonna get that report to him."
"I know, Lieu, I know. I've got it right here." She waved a random folder in the air and as soon as the lieutenant was gone, she started looking for the actual report. Crap, she hadn't lost it, had she? Damn it, damn it, damn it!
"Hey, Olivia, right here." She looked up at her partner.
"Thanks." Taking the proffered manila envelope, she checked inside and sighed in relief. "I owe you one, Tommy."
He smiled. He looked just like Elliot when he did that. The way it never quite reached his eyes too. The phone rang, thankfully interrupting her thoughts. "Benson. Homicide."
She got home on time for once and as soon as she stepped foot into her apartment, her phone rang. Checking the caller ID, she leaned against the wall for support before answering in as strong a voice as she could muster.
"If you're callin' about my heart, it's still yours. I should have listened to it a little more. Then it wouldn't have taken me so long to know where I belong. And by the way, John, this is no machine you're talkin' to. Can't you tell? It's me, Olivia. And I still love you."
His hand relaxed suddenly without his permission and the phone almost fell to the floor, which he was sure would not have been good. "Liv?"
"Yeah."
"I thought..."
"Last week, I called. You weren't home."
Red creeped up his cheeks. "You heard."
"I didn't realize... I'm sorry."
"You..." He fought to find his voice. "You doing okay?"
A smile. "Yeah. Yourself?"
He let out a strangled laugh. "About ten times better right now."
Her eyes slipped shut. "I wanna see you."
"Oh, God, Liv." His eyes closed as well. "How long has it been?"
"You know better than I do."
"Thirteen months," he whispered. "I love you."
"I love you, too."