They weren't supposed to meet this way. No. They weren't ever supposed to meet. Especially like this. She gasps a little as she soaks the scene in. As she thinks of the implications.
The glow from the marquee is just bright enough to her draw attention and shine in the corners of her startled eyes. The streets are slick from the rain and a steady stream of headlights file by them as they stand stricken on the sidewalk.
The air suddenly feels thicker in humidity and subway exhaust, and she struggles for a calming breath that does nothing to relieve the tightness in her chest. Her mouth is dry, or maybe too wet, and she thinks about the sticky air filling her lungs with every breath. Drowning maybe? Where is that damn oxygen? She could laugh. But she doesn't and before she can say any of the thousands of things she probably should, (I'll be back, allowing her to make a sweet escape before her presence is known, Don't say hello, Don't embarrass her, Just don't...), he's off with a firm smile and she doesn't follow right away, eyes unbelieving and stomach lying somewhere in the wetness below her feet. One word darts around her mind stubbornly. Awkward.
Really fucking awkward.
Nauseous suddenly, she swallows the acid burning upwards in her throat. Clears it. Slaps on a tight smile and realizes it's too late.
Today had been a good day by all accounts. Two collars, two men who wouldn't hurt their victims again. Men that would have an option of a fair trial, and most likely sent to prison for a decade or two. They had enough damning evidence that the cases may not even see the light of a court house. So a decade or two it was. Everyone of course wished it was for longer, but now it was out of their hands. Hard to believe the system sometimes. Half of their job rounding up wayward paroles. Hard habits to break, keeping their unit busy. Ensuring their pensions. Every day, breaking their hearts.
But today, the numbers went in their favor, solving two cases, only gaining one.
So they were meeting their colleagues at the bar on the corner. Olivia wishes she had not insisted on stopping by the bathroom on their way out. If they had been just 10 paces slower, 10 faster, this situation could have been avoided. And then realization dawns and she thinks, Thank god...
"Maureen!" she hears her partner yell, and she knows then, she's been spotted.
"Dad?" she squints in their direction.
Olivia could laugh at the start of her voice. She braves a glance at the man who has his arm around Maureen's shoulders and narrows her eyes in warning. He steps away and gives Olivia an acknowledging smile, eyebrows up. Olivia darts her eyes to Elliot, and relaxes the tiniest bit that he has not noticed. She takes a few brave steps forward, almost tripping over her intense desire to flee.
"Hey Dad," she hears Maureen say, almost embarrassed, definitely shocked.
Elliot sizes up the man next to her and then steps towards the building cocking his head for her to follow. She does, and they walk out of earshot. Olivia feels like they're interviewing victims, the way they wordlessly separate the two.
And then, the two of them alone, Olivia looks at the man standing there and watches as he breaks into a large grin. Broad shoulders, straight back, dark hair, and damn-those eyes. He stands confident and cocky and she wants to ask too many questions at once. The familiar smile that usually buckles her knees and warms her in comfort, does nothing but churn her stomach and the acid returns.
"Olivia," he says, smiling.
"Shhh," she warns. Her voice lowers considerably. "Please say you have not slept with her." The words send another shiver through her body, but there is no time to rid herself of this acid.
He laughs, and her eyes roam his face desperately. "No. No I haven't."
Small relief. "That's my partner's daughter," she says in a hushed panic. "She's 22."
He reaches for her arm, but she yanks it away, eyes going back to her partner and his daughter.
"For all intents and purposes, right now, we don't know each other," she says sternly, slowly calming.
"That's Elliot?" His eyes go where hers just were. He slowly smiles, nodding. "He is good looking. You're right."
Her eyes bore into him, unamused.
He relents and straightens. "Yes, this is awkward." His hands go back in his pockets and he lowers his voice comfortingly. "Don't worry, first date." He catches her eyes. "Last date," he says soothingly.
She shakes her head slowly, eyes closed. Sucking in a breath through her teeth. "Oh god..." she says.
"Olivia, it's okay. Nothing happened."
"Oh, but it could have. She's 22!"
He laughs and she considers taking him down right here. Sweeping her leg under his and knocking him on his ass. Knowing that would be hard to explain, she considers her options.
"I'm 30, Olivia. It's not a crime."
"It should be. Oh, man. It should be." She's swimming in nausea again.
"Yes, this is a little fucked up, but now we know. Ended before it started. Don't worry, last date," he reassures.
There's always been something about his voice that has settled her. Something that, on more occasions than she can count, has untangled the knots in her stomach.
He rocks forward, eyes grinning. "I love seeing you all strapped up, like a real time cop."
"I am a cop," she returns, annoyed.
"It's sexy," he states, raising his eyebrows.
She grimaces. "So not the time, Thomas."
He nods, straightening. "You're right. Sorry." After what passerby's would most likely assume was awkward silence, he asks quietly. "So what should I do?"
She takes a deep breath. "Take her home, give her the most platonic hug you can muster, tell her you had a great time. Leave."
He nods. "This is weird for me too you know."
She did. If there was one thing she could say about the man, it was his head was on straight.
"I didn't know she was 22," he continues. "I met her at a coffee shop. Don't even know her last name."
"Now you do."
He smiles again. "Yes, now I do. And god, that would have been weird."
She finally laughs, because really, what else can she do?
"There it is," he says, smiling.
"So weird," she confirms.
"Of all the girls in this damn city, I asked out your partner's daughter."
She hears the smile in his voice and she laughs again.
"You're an idiot, Thomas."
He cocks his head, and she knows he's about to say something inappropriate. "Don't," she gives him a hard stare. The beginnings of a smile, twitching at her lips.
"And they're coming back," he says softly, rocking on his heels.
She nods, returning her face to neutral. "Not a fucking word Martin."
He straightens his face, and says for the returning pair, "Nice to meet you, Olivia."
She's grateful for that because somehow the right words are escaping her. Elliot is eyeing him suspiciously, but she knows it's not on her behalf, but rather the young girl who's shoulder his hand rests heavy on.
"Thomas," he sticks his hand towards Elliot. "Thomas Martin."
Elliot looks at the hand and back at the man in front of him. Maureen sighs, and Olivia grimaces inwardly that Maureen is embarrassed. Maureen likes him. Confirming this, she shrugs her dad's hand off subtly. Thomas raises his eyebrows lowering his hand, and Olivia wants to laugh at the awkwardness.
"We should go," Elliot relents, turning slightly towards Olivia, still ignoring Thomas.
She knows Elliot is resisting the urge to put Maureen in a cab right then and there, and she's almost proud of him that he isn't. Or she would be if she wasn't fighting that same urge. But she knows Thomas well. Too well for the situation at hand. He would get her home safe. He would leave her at the door. After all, he was mostly a gentleman. Mostly, and she grimaces as images enter her head. That, she definitely could not think about right now. Him in his less-than-gentlemanly moments.
It's as if Thomas can read her mind, and while father says goodnight to daughter, he winks at her. She rolls her eyes, but is grateful at least, that she knows he'll stay true to his word.
______
As she and Elliot finally enter the bar, she relaxes fully for the first time in the last twenty minutes. She hears Elliot ordering them drinks, and she sighs. They had finally met, sized each other up. Her emotional relationship and her physical one. Certainly not the best circumstances, but somehow, she feels at ease. As Elliot hands her a drink, she suddenly realizes, that now, they could never truly meet. Not that she was planning for a get-together for the three of them anytime soon, but she couldn't deny she had always harbored a secret desire for them to be friends. As if that could somehow meld them into one person. Her perfect person. The physically available one, who could ease her with a kiss, and the man who she felt more emotionally connected with than anyone else in the world. She wonders if this was fate's way of punishing her for keeping her lives so separate.
"That guy was like 35!"
She is surprised it has taken him this long. Her words come up before she can stop them. "30."
He stops and looks at her, and as her stomach falls to her feet, she tries to recover.
"I asked."
He smiles, pausing. He lifts his drink to his lips. "You are something else, Detective."
She knows he's thinking that she's one hell of a friend. That for his sake, she had already questioned the suspect at hand on his behalf. She feels guilty. Guilty for keeping this from him. And she's suddenly overcome with a desire to ease his mind and ensure him his daughter was going home safe tonight. Alone. That Thomas is actually a good guy, and she should know.
Ridiculous, she knows. He can never know the truth. Especially now. In case the potential awkwardness wasn't enough to begin with. She lifts her own drink with a sigh.
"She's a good kid, Elliot." She not sure why she decides to tell him this now, but she thinks he may need to hear it.
"I know," he sighs.
Munch's hand falls on her shoulder. "Hey, guys." He nods towards a booth. "Over here."
____
She feels her phone vibrate in her bag and instantly knows who is on the other end. She scoots the to edge of the booth. Munch is saying something about a book that would most likely would be boring her if she was listening in the first place. Elliot's eyes are glazed over, but at her movement, he looks at her.
"Bathroom," she explains quietly, as to not disturb the story. She slyly takes her phone with her. She glances at the screen as she crosses the bar. Suspicions confirmed. She takes a peek behind her, and seeing the three men paying no attention to her, she ducks outside, pulling the phone to her cheek.
"You ever going to find someone your own age?"
"Now where's the fun in that?"
She smiles, just a little. "What's up Thomas?"
"Just thought you'd like to know Maureen Stabler is safely back home. I may have broken her heart a little though."
"You wish Martin."
"Seems her old man may think I'm a bit old for her anyway."
"Watch it with that 'old man' talk," she says warningly. "And you are."
He laughs. "So Detective Benson, it's been a while. That partner of yours finally figure out what he's missing?"
She scoffs. "I've just been busy with work."
"Ah, work. How goes it these days?"
"Still fifty percent heartbreaking, thirty percent rewarding."
"And the other twenty?"
She pauses. "It varies day to day."
"I see."
She can almost hear his frown and moves to change the subject quickly. "What about you?"
"Well, I closed a deal on a five-million dollar apartment three days ago that only had one bathroom and a shared laundry, but the tiny living room overlooks the park, so there you go. Hell of a deal if you ask me."
"How do you sleep at night?"
"Pretty lonely lately."
She cocks her head. "And it's going to stay that way until I get these unpleasant what-if scenarios out of my head. Which may be never."
"Well damn. You going to break my heart Liv?"
She rolls her eyes. "You'll find a warm body somewhere I'm sure."
He sighs. "Nothing happened Olivia."
"It could have, and then, by the way, there'd be no way we'd ever-"
"Liv?"
She turns around quickly at the voice, dropping her phone to her hip. "Oh, hey Elliot."
"Thought I saw you come out here."
She hears a disembodied voice and both she and Elliot look down at her phone. "Sorry, one sec."
She picks up the phone again. "Hey, I gotta go."
"Let's talk soon. I miss you. And give my best to my future father-in-"
She hangs up the phone quickly, holding back the groan of frustration.
"Sorry. Friend from college."
He nods, grinning. "You didn't have to hang up. I was just making sure you didn't leave."
She doesn't know why she's suddenly nervous. "No, no. No, didn't leave." She thinks those were the words she was looking for.
"Good." He nods. "One more drink and I'm going to call it a night. Coming back in?"
"Yep. Yes, that sounds good."
He cocks his head at her sudden strange behavior, but doesn't mention it. To her relief, he turns back towards the door and she rolls her eyes at her inability to form sentences suddenly. Deep breath.
His hand reaches for the door and stops, turning back to her. "Was that your boyfriend?"
She startles. "I don't know if that's any of your damn business."
He looks shocked at her sudden change of demeanor. He takes a deep breath. "Geez." He holds his hands up in surrender. "You're right, sorry."
She sighs. Ah, her defense mechanisms - pushing people away since puberty. "No, I'm sorry. Not a boyfriend. Just a friend." Walls firmly in place. She nods, confirming the statement once more, and giving her head time to slow down.
He accepts it and turns back towards the door. An easy escape, she figures. Back to the table where no such conversation can take place. Where words slip into the loud music and conversations drift from table to table.
_____
It was customary on nights like these, for him to drop her off at her apartment. She had insisted on taking the subway, but he was not to be swayed. "It's on my way. Get in," he had said.
They both knew that wasn't exactly true, but she got in nonetheless.
She didn't know why she decided to bring it up again. Maybe it was the guilt that had been eating away at her all night. Maybe it had finally started in on her brain. "Sorry for snapping earlier."
He glances at her shrugging. "No problem."
His indifference sends a familiar jab to her gut. "Oh. Okay." She bites her bottom lip, stirring uncomfortably in the silence. "If there was someone, I'd tell you." That is mostly a lie she decides, but she needs something more from him right now. The silence is deafening.
As they sit at the light, he turns towards her and pats her leg platonically. "Good."
Hmph. Good, she thinks. Good. She tries it out in her head a few times. Good. Nope, she doesn't like it. He's moved on and is intent on his destination so she drops it.
As they turn on her block, she sees a familiar outline on her stoop. "Oh no," she whispers.
Elliot turns to her. "What?"
Good, his eyes are off of the stoop. And also the road. Shit. He glances back to the street and before she can come up with an excuse, she knows she's too late. He stiffens slightly as the man stands slowly, looking at their car. He turns and starts walking in the opposite directly quickly.
Oh god no, she thinks as she watches Elliot's jaw tighten, eyes following the figure. She knows what's coming and isn't sure how to stop it. Don't run, don't run, don't run...
"What the hell?"
She watches as Thomas starts to run. Idiot. Of course, Elliot throws the car out of drive and double parks, throwing on the hazards, body already out of the door.
"Hey!" she hears him yell. "Stop! Police!"
"Elliot!" she yells, also jumping out of the car, but it's too late. He's out of the car in a foot pursuit with a harmless real estate agent, who, to the best of her knowledge, couldn't run all that fast. Perfect. This night was going just perfect.
She's sees them both go down seconds later and catches up to them just in time to see Elliot slapping cuffs on Thomas, face down on the sidewalk.
"Why'd you run you prick?" he huffs.
"Elliot stop." She grabs his elbow stopping him from closing the second cuff.
Elliot looks confused and down at the guy in question, who is obviously struggling to catch his breath.
"Who is this guy-" he stops short when Thomas rolls over, face torn from the sidewalk impact. "Wait a second. You're-" He looks back to Olivia. "He's-" He drops Thomas' arms. "What the hell is going on here?"
She looks conflicted and shakes her head.
"You okay?" she kneels beside Thomas on the sidewalk.
"Just a flesh wound," he says. She can't stop the laugh that escapes her lips. Elliot looks perplexed and she wishes she had a time machine.
She looks at Thomas. "You're an idiot, you know that?"
"So I've been told," he manages.
She puts her hand out and Elliot gives her a hard glare.
She sighs. "Keys please?"
He begrudgingly hands her the keys and she removes the other cuff and helps him up.
He groans a bit and wipes down his pants, finally standing, cowering a bit from Elliot.
"You know this guy?" he asks Olivia, mad.
She takes a deep breath. "Would you believe me if I said no?"
"I'd take his ass down to the station-"
She interrupts defeated, "Yes Elliot. I know him."
At this Elliot narrows his eyes. "How well?"
She knew it was coming, but it still throws her a bit. Somehow, even now, even in this impossible situation, he knows.
"We're friends," she answers sharply, and Elliot continues to glare.
She looks back at Thomas, who is looking quite sheepish. "Sorry," he says.
"You shouldn't of run," she says, exhaling.
The right side of his face is skinned from his forehead to his cheekbone and he reaches up and touches it, grimacing slightly. "Now you tell me."
"Let's get you cleaned up."
"Olivia-" Elliot starts.
"I've known him for four years Elliot. Thomas this is Elliot. Elliot does not like when people run from him." She smirks, "Elliot this is Thomas. Thomas is never, ever, ever dating Maureen again."
She figures that will do for now and turns towards her apartment building, hearing a limping Thomas and fuming Elliot close behind.
_________
TBC...