A/N: Revelations and realizations.
She watches him pay for the pizza, wondering why he's chosen this particular combination of toppings. She meets his gaze as he walks back toward the couch, and the confessions he's made so far sing back through her mind, as if she can read them all again in his eyes.
He sits, plopping the two large boxes onto the coffee table between his beer and her tea, which he replaced with decaf hoping she wouldn't notice. He smirks as she sips, and he chuckles at her oblivion. "Eat," he says, pointing to the top box.
"Talk," she counters, flipping the lid to the pizza box. "The faster you get whatever this is out of your system, the sooner we can…"
"I'm talking," he says with a shrug. He lifts a slice of cheesy, peppery, pinappley pizza to his lips, and he bites. He is instantly taken back to the first moment he had such a slice, and his lips curl into a smile. "You remember the first…"
"Of course, I do," she interrupts with a laugh. "God, you thought I was crazy."
"Well, you didn't tell me you were pregnant," he says in his defense. "You ordered this and I thought, 'One too many shots to the head on the job, and this is what happens."
She grins. "I told you," she reminds him. "Well, actually, the pizza told you."
He smiles as he chews, remembering opening the box when the pizza arrived, seeing the words "Hi, Daddy," spelled out in bits of pepper. He swallows, and he's moved by his memory. He leans over and kisses her softly. "I love him, you know I do."
She narrows her eyes a bit at him. "I know you do," she says.
"I love his mother, too." He is looking into her eyes, so deeply he scares himself.
She takes a shaky breath, her heart almost stopping at his words. He's being more affectionate tonight than he has been in a long while, and she thinks she knows why, and she doesn't want to be right. She looks away from him and then clears her throat. "You, uh…you want to…"
He heaves a sigh and nods. "So, I told you about the thing with my history project, when he…"
"Yeah," she says, nodding, biting into the pizza. "The tree," she says, sipping her tea.
"I just let him hit me again," he says with a shake of his head. He takes another bite of his pizza, then he says, "The first day of high school. That was…that was when I really started fighting back."
She looks at him and tilts her head. "What happened?"
"See? My life story seems to be holding your attention," he jokes, and he takes a gulp of his beer. "Well, uh, he wanted me to try out for the basketball team."
"You did," she said, narrowing her eyes. "You were on the…"
"Yeah, but I didn't want to do it just because he told me to," he interrupts, as if that should have obvious. "I came home, and he asked me how my day was, and when I said nothing about signing up for tryouts, he yelled. I remember…he raised his hand to hit me and I punched him, right in the ribs," he recalls. He swipes his tongue along his teeth and chuckles. "I wish I could have taken a picture of his face. It was like…for the first time, he was afraid of me."
She chews quietly for a moment. "Empowering, isn't it?" she asks, biting her lip, remembering her own first small victory against her mother.
He nods at her, then he takes a bite of his pizza. "It is," he says. "Until…well, hitting him, showing him how strong I really was, it only made him hit me harder. It proved to him that I was tough enough to take even more, so…I missed basketball tryouts that year." He took another hard gulp of his beer. "He really broke my arm that time."
She huffs and throws her pizza down onto the box top. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish by telling me all of this?" she asks, running a hand through her hair. "All it's done is make me really glad the man is dead."
He grips her chin, then, with two fingers, pulling her toward him. He kisses her softly, and he whispers, "Calm down." He bends his head, looking up at her with seriousness in his eyes. "Okay? I'm not finished, and this is isn't just about him."
She breathes and nods. "Go on," she resigns, grabbing her tea again.
He hides the smirk as he watches her sip, and he wonders for a moment if the lack of caffeine is making her irritable. "Okay, so I was out for the whole season," he says, "I had to take an extra study hall because I was excused from gym. That's when I met…"
"Kathy," she says, figuring it out.
He shakes his head and he smiles. "No, Liv, that's when I met you."
She squints. "I didn't go to your high school," she says. "I think you're…"
"You came," he interrupts, "Every Thursday during that period. You were…"
"Tutoring," she says, remembering, realizing. "I…I have no idea why I don't remember meeting you."
He grins. "I didn't really introduce myself to you," he shrugs and bites into his pizza. With a mouthful he says, "I just watched you try to teach Mark Anderson how to solve for x, and I gotta say, that even back then, when I had no idea who the hell you were, I dreamed about you."
She chuckles and nudges him with her elbow. "So you fantasized about me in high school?"
"All the time," he says, rolling his eyes. "Well, until I really did meet Kathy." He lets his face fall into an expression of guilt, regret, and just a bit of happiness. "Sophomore year, football season, she was a cheerleader. We met at the first home game of the season. She was so pretty," he says. "Not beautiful. You…you're beautiful, she's pretty, there's a difference."
"On what planet?" she asks, chewing.
He laughs and says, "Mine." He takes a swallow of his beer and says, "She was the only girl who didn't look at me like she wanted to rip my clothes off. She was the only girl who talked to me like I was a real person, not just a jock."
"She had common sense," she says, grinning.
"She had morals," he retorts. "We had that in common. We started just hanging out, talking. We realized we wanted the same things out of life, and she…she gave me a reason to get up in the morning. It's funny…you did the same thing when I met you. She gave me a good reason to go to school, you gave me a good one to go to work."
She drops her gaze again, feeling the guilt that had long faded return to the surface. Talking about Kathy makes her realize how wrong their affair really was, and how much she hates the fact that she doesn't care.
He notices her shift in mood, and he clears his throat. "I have to tell you this, Liv, so please…"
"I'm listening," she says, scooting toward him. "I'm fine."
He nods and picks up another slice of pizza. "We dated. Really dated. Went out to eat, went to the movies, I didn't even kiss her until the fourth date." He shakes his head, as if he can't believe he's talking about himself. "Things moved so slowly with her."
"You were a good Catholic boy, El," she says, closing her eyes. She runs a hand down her face, feeling responsible for taking that away from him.
He laughs. "Catholic nothing, I was scared," he says. "She scared me the same way you did. The way you still do." He bites his lip and says, "I didn't want to fall in love with her, I was fifteen. I wanted to date other girls, I wanted to break hearts, I wanted to prove to my father that I could be just as much of an asshole as he was."
She shakes her head. "But you're not, El, you…"
"Exactly," he sighs. "I'm not. Which is why she was it for me. The only girl I dated in high school, and after a year and a half together, I slept with her." He closes his eyes and says, "I didn't get it. It wasn't fun, it was messy, I think I pulled something, actually fucking hurt myself…"
She laughs, runs a hand along his arm, and she says, "First times are awkward. You just needed practice."
He chuckles and looks up at her. "We practiced," he tells her with a raised eyebrow. "It still sucked. All my friends were talking about how great sex was, and I thought they were all crazy. Kathy..she just…I guess I didn't think it had to be fun, ya know? I just thought that as long as I loved her, I was doing it right." He sends her a narrow-eyed glance and smirks. "How wrong was I?"
She laughs softly and shakes her head. "You were right," she tells him. "Love is a huge factor."
"Yeah," he says. "But with you, it's also a shitload of fun. Anyway, right before midterms my Senior year, she comes up to me in the hallway, says we need to talk. I thought she was gonna break up with me because we were planning on going to different schools."
She grabs his hand. She knows where this is going.
"I was actually happy," he says, dropping his head back. "Can you believe that? I wanted her to break up with me." He swallows and says, "We found a quiet corner, and she looked at me with these big, pretty, wet eyes. She was crying. I told her I knew what she was gonna say, and that it was okay, and she didn't need to cry." He bites his lip and says, "She told me I didn't know what she was gonna say, and it wasn't okay. Then she told me she was pregnant."
There is a moment of silence and she sips her tea, watching him bite into his pizza.
He turns to her and he says, "I felt my entire world crash down on top of me. I almost passed out. I knew…I knew that I was done. UCLA was out, I had to turn down my scholarship, my chance to get away from my father, and I knew that I had to do the right thing. The last thing I needed on top of being the black sheep of my family was being a disgrace to hers."
She squeezes his hand. It's enough to give him the strength to go on.
"I cried, all night," he admits. "The next morning I picked her up early, I took her out for breakfast, and I proposed to her with a ring I found in my mother's jewelry box that probably cost, God, ten dollars?" He shakes his head and laughs. "Over pancakes. I asked her over pancakes! I didn't…I never told her shit about my life, she had only met my parents once, she'd never met my sisters, and I asked her to marry me."
"El," she says, leaning toward him, "You were being…"
"Stupid," he says. "I was being so stupid. But I loved her, I really did, and the more I thought about having a kid, the more I thought, 'Wow, here's my chance to prove that I'm better than him. To prove that I can be a father, the kind of father I always needed but never had."
She opens her mouth to speak and the wailing shriek of a two-year-old boy fills the room. "I'll get him," she says, moving to stand.
He pushes her back against the couch. "I got him," he tells her. "Finish eating." He kisses her quickly and gets up, heading toward his son's room.
She narrows her eyes and rises anyway, following him. She stops at the door, and she watches him lift the boy into his arms. And she listens.
"Hey, little man," he says, bouncing lightly. "What's the problem?"
Eli buries his head in his father's neck, sobbing. He mumbles something in his not-yet-understood language and wraps himself around his father tightly.
"Okay, big boy," he says, running a hand over his son's back. "Daddy's got you. You just…you let it out, buddy. You wanna cry, you go right ahead, but I'm here, and Mommy's…"
"Maa!" Eli shouts, waving his arms frantically behind Elliot.
"Yeah," Elliot says, spinning around. "We'll go see…" he stops, seeing Olivia in the doorway. "Mommy." He smiles at her, and he holds Eli tighter as the child attempts to leap into Olivia's arms.
She blinks and she moves toward him. She rests one hand on Eli's little arm, calming him, and one hand on Elliot's shoulder, squeezing. "You told him…"
"My son can cry all he wants," he interrupts. "If he's hurt, if he's sad, if he's angry…there's no shame in it." He kisses the top of Eli's head and says, "I told that to all of my kids, and…Liv, I'm not my father."
"You're not," she whispers. She kisses him, her lips lingering on his for a moment too long as Eli lets out a yell. He doesn't like being ignored. They pull apart and they look at him, and they laugh.
He lets his voice drop, and he looks at her as he says, "He wasn't a mistake, Liv."
She closes her eyes, and no matter how much evidence she has to the contrary, she believes him. "No, he wasn't." She opens her eyes and says, "Neither was Maureen."
He kisses Eli again, and the two turn, walking out of the youngster's bedroom and back into the living room. They sit, their son propped up in between them, and he says, "I know that. I wouldn't change anything, I love all my kids, I just…I'm not proud of how…" and a tear slips out of his left eye, the first tear he's let drop all night.
She feels her heart crack. "El, don't…I was just as responsible for everything as you were."
"You deserved better," he whispers, cutting her off. "You both did. I should have left her for good before getting involved with you. I should have waited until the divorce was final. Yeah, we were apart, but the separation meant nothing to anyone, people still looked at me like I was shit every time I so much as looked at you. I was selfish, and I was…"
"You were here," she tells him, cupping his face to get him to stop talking. "For every single moment, El. You were right here. I know it was wrong, but…we made it work…and she…she understood."
He scoffs. "Yeah, she did. She understood all the way to fucking Florida." He shakes his head and says, "I swore…the night you told me…with the pizza…I swore to myself that I wouldn't repeat my mistakes. I was gone for most of Kathy's pregnancy, ya know, the Marines…I missed the kicks and the cravings and the…" he blinks. "I promised I would be there for everything with you."
"You were," she says.
He nods and he looks at her, and he says, "Once he goes back to sleep…I have to finish telling you…"
"I know," she says, stopping him as her arm loops around him and the other snakes under her drifting-off son. "I know."
"It's serious," he tells her. "It's about…you always asked about the tattoo, the Marines, and I need you to promise me that no matter what you hear…I need you to promise me that you'll forgive me."
She narrows her eyes and takes a shallow breath. She nods. "Of course," she whispers to him.
She doesn't realize how difficult keeping that promise is going to be.
A/N: His explanations are raising more questions. What happened in the Marines? Will Olivia need to forgive him? And when did their affair start, how understanding was Kathy? Review here, or on Twitter.