Disclaimer: I do not own Law & Order: SVU or its characters.
A/N: Shout out to my girl Lauren #2, for editing this mess.
The picture he paints in his mind of Olivia as a child breaks his heart. She's thoughtful, yet so haunted by the consuming unknown with her life.
Breathing is a privilege, and right now, his lungs have revoked that right.
The small book quivers in his hands as he sits back, leaning on the wall for support. Elliot's legs have long ago gone numb from being in such an isolated position. He sighs into the musky, old air, but his lungs still feel constricted.
He continues his reading, never fully comprehending that this was his partner, many, many years ago.
She never tells me much about her life. I don't know who she talks to on the phone, or where she goes late at night. To be honest, I'm too scared to ask. But tonight she stayed in and got out the booze before calling up one of her drinking buddies. Maybe the person on the other end wasn't drunk. Like I said, I don't know. The person just listened to her rant.
Serena changes from her work facade to her real self at home, and it scares me.
I guess she thought I was asleep in my bedroom, because she started talking about stuff. Bad stuff. Things I'm not really sure of the meaning.
Then she started talking about my bio... biological father? I think that's how you spell it. She said he ruined her life, and that I did too. It didn't come as a big surprise; she'd said that before to me. But then she said these words, and the pieces started to fit together.
"He raped me, Janice. And now I've got Olivia."
Do you think if I disappeared she would really care?
Olivia's scroll gets too messy then, and the rest of the page is just scribbles and wrinkled paper from her teardrops. He'd always felt a guilt within him that was unexplainable because of her past. She'd get that pissed off look on her face if he ever told her that, he knows.
Then again, Olivia always was one to surprise the hell out of him in everything she did. Yet, their song and dance was always too familiar, too repetitive.
Oliver, after her father.
Over the years he's disgusted himself with the fucked up lies that have spewed from his lips.
He'd trapped himself, never being fully able to say what they both needed to hear. Instead, it all bubbled up until they fought, and all the anger inside of him boiled over – onto her. Because of her.
He blames her for everything and nothing at the same time.
If every aspect of her wasn't so brutally addicting, he wouldn't become so guarding of her. He wouldn't feel so compelled to protect her, even though she had always been fully capable of doing that herself. Because if he were being honest, he needs her.
He needs that push and pull of their relationship. He craves each argument, each flirty conversation – because it feeds that fire within them. They've gotten to the point where they were so in over their heads that they couldn't see the lines anymore. The boundaries were gone.
The second he felt them lift he could have had her. Instead, he pushed her away.
While he fills with guilt and remorse, Olivia's door opens.
She'd always had a respect for Olivia she couldn't quite put her finger on.
It wasn't as though she had romantic feelings for the woman – Olivia wasn't exactly her type.
The respect was something so much larger than that. Amanda closes the apartment door as soundlessly as she can, but it seems to echo off the walls. It penetrates the silence within all the rooms. She wonders if Olivia used to make it in here quietly.
Elliot remains within one of these rooms. She's started checking in on him more periodically, because she's not like Olivia. She cannot make a distinction between each of his emotions. It limits how much Amanda can assist him, but it's all so necessary.
She's frightened that he will stop breathing and not even notice. He is frozen within Olivia's grasp. She's suffocating him silently, without thought, without even being there in the flesh. On the inside, Amanda has become so very aware of the proximity in which Elliot and Olivia held each other.
At a dangerous level.
The coffee tray in her hand shakes with each measured step she takes towards Olivia's bedroom. She knows he's here; she can hear rustling of paper, a shaky sigh, his feet scraping along the floor.
There's always a sickening hush between her and Elliot. It's the pain that steals his words and it's her unspoken truth. A simple letter binds her tightly with Olivia and creates distance with Elliot.
There's a certain level of comfort in the silence between the two of them that she doesn't deserve. It's unlike Elliot and Olivia's, she's well aware. She'll never have with either of them what they have with each other. Because even now, when she pictures the two of them reuniting, all she hears is silence and palpating hearts.
In front of her is a miserable, self-destructing man who admittedly hasn't seen his children - in exception to his eldest child – for days. Her guilt keeps her here, looking at his somber face instead of an angry, hopeful one. If she spoke the truth, told him all of the things Olivia wishes he would never find out until she is ready, Amanda doesn't really know what he would be like.
This alone alarms her.
Elliot finally looks up at her. She expected the depression within his features, but not anger. Her breathing begins to deregulate and the panic courses through her veins. They haven't had a heavy caseload as of late, and it leaves all the more time for him to figure out what's really going on.
The letter Olivia had left in Amanda's desk is burned into her mind. Each line, each dotted "I" and crossed "T" that made her eyes water.
Don't show him this, no matter what you do, Amanda.
She pulls one of the cups from the tray and holds it out for him to grab, but his scowl only deepens. He takes it however, and replaces it with a simple piece of paper. It makes a slapping sound as it connects with her hand. He is no longer kind with her.
It's the familiar scrawl on the paper that catches her attention. When she looks down it's all she can do to not let her chin tremble, to not let the lump in the back of her throat take over and send a rush of tears to her eyes. Somewhere in these past weeks, Amanda has promised that she'll never let him see her break down. He needs stability.
The address on the note is incorrect. Although it is addressed to her, this isn't the real note. But Olivia knew that he would cling to this information. What she didn't know, was that his anger would bubble too. Since it was addressed to her, all of his anger was about to be directed at her.
"Why..." his voice cracks and dies out before he can get a second word in. She's used to his silence, now.
Amanda crosses her feet and sits on the floor, two feet in front of him. He leans against the wall heavily, his coffee sitting beside him. She says nothing, watching him fidget with the small book in his lap.
Elliot stares back, expecting something. Anything.
He asks a lot of her these days without even voicing it.
"What's your best memory with her?"
A small burst of laughter escapes from his lips. She's shocked; the sound of it being so foreign to her now. His eyes crinkle as she stares in awe, not of his looks, but of the way Olivia is thousands of miles away, and still releases a part of him he tries desperately to keep under wraps. His head raises from the supporting wall behind him and he stares at her with a sliver of respect.
He takes in a deep breath, and for the first time in nearly sixteen days, he speaks fluidly. "There's one night that stands out more than the rest," Elliot whispers, dropping his head back to the wall again. "We sat on my stoop for a few minutes while I tried to convince her that the job is good... That it's right."
His breathing gets a little shaky. She doesn't push, just lets him work it out of his system. A tear slides from the corner of his eye and he doesn't seem to notice. He doesn't seem to care, because he's trapped within this memory.
"She thought she messed everything up by putting Michael Gardener in jail. But she didn't. She looked perfect then, too." It's now that he cracks, pulling his knees up to his chest. He hugs himself, burying his head in the rough fabric of his dirty and faded jeans. The soft sobs that escape him are haunting. She'll remember this moment with him for a long time to come, just like the contents of Olivia's real letter.
She leans against the same wall he is now. Her arm stretches out as she cups his head with her right hand and pulls him into her. She's reckless in her want to comfort whatever he's feeling. In a way, she's feeding this pain and worsening it. His sobs rack through them both, and with his head on her shoulder, she lets the words come to the surface.
Amanda,
Usually, there's a time and a place for everything. But right now, there isn't. It's you I trust with this because Fin's too honest, and Munch couldn't handle a heart attack. And Elliot...
Don't show him this, no matter what you do.
Attached on the back of this is a slip of paper. Write the address down somewhere and get rid of it. Burn it if you have to, it doesn't matter. Just make sure he won't find it.
I know you've got questions, and I'm sorry I can't answer them right now. This is just easier. I need you to do one more thing for me.
Take care of Elliot.
I don't know what he's like without me, but I know him in a lot of other situations, and you have to ease his self-implosion. He's not an easy man to talk to, but give it your best shot. Maureen knows what's going on and she'll visit, but in between those times, you need to be there.
Best regards,
Olivia.
