He presses his head back against the pillow and breathes.
She is talking to him and if he closes his eyes he can picture her beside him. Her hair would be a stark contrast to the white pillowcase and he would prop himself up on his elbow to watch her face...
"How's the weather?" He asks her, holding his cell phone to his ear. "You snowed in yet?"
There is a pause during which he can hear the clink of silverware on ceramic dishes. He grins. "You having dinner with me, Benson?" He can almost see her dark eyes rolling at him endearingly.
He likes the idea that she's eating while listening to the sound of his voice.
"A girl's gotta eat, Stabler," she quips back at him and he turns his head to look at the clock on his bedside table.
10:43pm.
His chest aches for a moment and his ceaseless desire to look after her takes over.
"What time did you get home?" He asks, trying to keep his voice light, but dreading her answer. Late December evenings in Manhattan are bitter.
"I had a meeting with Capt," she says, circumnavigating his question.
"He giving you a promotion?" He inquires, teasing gently. She is quiet for a moment and when he hears her take a deep breath, he clutches the phone harder. "You oka-?" The words have barely left his lips when she is talking over him.
"Are you sitting down?" She asks and her question makes him swing his legs over the side of the bed and sit up. He knows he is being unrealistic, but if she thinks for one minute that this snow is going to keep him from driving overnight if she needs him-
"El?"
He hears her say his name and he realizes that he hasn't answered her.
"Yeah?"
"Are you sitting down?" She repeats and this time he can hear the slightest hint of amusement in her voice.
"I'm sitting," he replies and shakes his head at the incomprehensibility that is Olivia. He hears her take a second deep breath and he wills himself to stay silent, to give her a chance to speak. He can't help himself.
"Liv-" he starts, gently.
"I put in my papers," she informs him in a rush.
For an instant, he can't breathe. He is stunned. For all of the thousands of different things she could have just said to him, this is simultaneously the furthest one from his mind and the most welcome. He can't have heard her right.
He can't have.
"You what?" He demands incredulously and he thinks her resulting laughter is well-worth him sounding like an idiot.
"I did. I'm giving them six months," she elaborates and her voice sounds lighter.
Six months. He counts forward in his head and six months takes him to July.
July. The grass will blow in the mid-summer breeze. The afternoon sun will peek through the trees and dapple the light on the back porch. He sees her hair tied up in a ponytail, falling asleep in the hammock, her gorgeous skin warmed by the inviting air.
Six months.
July and she could be here.
She could be...he tries not to think: his.
He needs a moment so he bows his head and rubs his hand across his face. His throat is tight when he speaks. "Liv," he starts, because he has got to give her something. He can't just sit here and let himself cry on the phone with her. His vision is blurring...finally, he thinks. Finally. He's been waiting for this, for her.
"Liv," he says her name again and he wills her to hear the hope in his voice. He can't make his mind work fast enough. He has one million questions for her and he doesn't want to throw too many at her at once, but he prays that he could be her answer to all of them.
The words still aren't coming and when he hears the melody of her laugh, she absolves him for his lack of response. Her joy triggers his own and he feels himself laughing along with her.
"What are you gonna do?" He asks. "You gonna stay in the city?"
He hears her sigh.
"I haven't thought about it too much," she says and he is certain that she has just fibbed to him. If he knows anything about Olivia it is that she has thought every single one of her options over, weighed the pros and cons, and already has plans. She wouldn't resign if she didn't. He has to be patient and allow her to reveal the details to him in her own time.
"I'm not sure," she presses on, her voice taking on an entertaining cadence. "I keep thinking I might want to get out of here. At least for a little while."
He opens his mouth to interject, but she continues. "I know a guy who owns some land in Virginia."
His patience is rewarded.
"It's supposed to be a nice place, but I'll have to find out if my invitation still stands..."
He can't stop grinning and he wants to laugh in relief, but his lungs don't seem to be functioning properly.
She wants to come. She wants to spend time here. With him.
"Yeah. That sounds nice. You'll have to call him," Elliot says, playing along. He knows she can hear the amusement in his voice.
"Yeah, I'd better," Olivia chimes back in, "He might've changed his mind..."
Elliot jumps at the chance, "I don't think so. Doesn't sound like that kinda guy to me."
He can hear her resulting smile through the phone.
"You mean it?" She asks and the breathlessness in her voice sends him reeling.
"'Course," he answers, "You got a standing invitation. What's mine is yours, Liv."
Olivia gives a hum of gratitude in his ear and he wants to tell her that she just made his day, week, hell - she has made his whole year with this news. She says she is grateful, but the truth is that he is the one who has received a gift.
Then, tentatively and as if she is reading his mind..."Better late than never, right? Merry Christmas, El."