AN: Anything you see in bold is directly from the script and belongs to their respective writers. Without further ado, the story continues.
Olivia is just…full.
So overwhelmed with emotion is she, that her heart is breaking and she feels like imploding from trying to contain it all.
Her head is what hurts the most.
It always does when she tries to hold back tears. There's all this pressure and nowhere for it to go because she refused, outright refused to release them in front of anyone.
It's as if the people that care don't know what to expect from her anymore and it's understandable because neither does she.
"Let's get you home," Brian states and pauses to wait. When he sees her hesitation then, "Liv, are you comin'?"
"Yes. Can you just give me a minute?"
He agreed. He always just agrees these days to whatever she wants. And whatever she asks of him, he says yes.
He never argues just says, "Okay, Liv. Okay."
If she doesn't want to talk, it's okay.
If she just wants a hug, it's okay.
If she wants to spend her days off on the sofa, it's okay.
That's what she'd said when he asked her to get an apartment together.
"Okay."
Their relationship is okay.
Her job is okay.
She…is…okay!
But she's not. She's not and it's all coming back, came back.
This week, this day, on the stand with his spittle nearly hitting her in the face, everything's back. The darkness of her apartment that should've been the first freakin' alarm in her head, is back. After twenty years with a badge, a gun she never reached for…it's all come back.
She froze? She froze!
It's the overwhelming ache in her chest that has her nearly running out of the courtroom. She can't breathe.
She just…has to…slow down.
Has to…stop.
Olivia pushes through the cheap, brown, latex painted door, immediately greeted with a gust of cold, seemingly inherent of all government building stairways.
But breathing is possible again. Inhale. Exhale.
Just. Hold on.
She descends the steps with the full intent of simply avoiding the crowd that's waiting for an elevator.
But when she reaches the bottom landing, she stops and falls. Not physically but mentally.
She drops to sit on the bottom step, finally resting on the attempt to run away from herself.
It didn't work anyway. It never has.
Cold, dingy white walls, much like that of a prison, are the backdrop for the utter and complete self-destruction she has going on in her head and heart.
Olivia's never been closer to understanding her mother's romance with a bottle as she is now.
Everything's right at the surface.
The unforgiving duct tape that bound her arms and legs is there, its harsh adhesive pulling at the skin of her lips. The acrid smell of her own burning flesh as he seared Olivia with keys and a coat hanger before using her for an ashtray. The excruciating pain of the fists to her ribs, the backhand to her face. It all came back. She was completely alone with him at his mercy.
And so she lied.
No matter how he yelled, how he goaded, how he was allowed to treat her as a damn hostile witness, she did…not…waver.
But she lied.
Her body shakes with the force of her sobs. A tear for every untruth she's told and how often she's told it is streaming down her face in a torrent of anguish.
She compromised herself.
Her right hand grasps the railing as the emotional turmoil from betraying everything she believes in, balls her up from the inside out. The left hand resting on her stomach provides no relief.
She hears the door above her push open with such force that the gust of a wind it creates lifts the hair from her shoulders. Olivia slides on the frigid concrete step closer to the railing. She wants to let whoever's in such a hurry pass, so that she can continue with her decimation in peace.
As quickly as the person wanted to get to where they were going, their footfalls slow as they near her.
"Are you okay ma'am?"
He's the last person she expects.
"Elliot."
"Olivia?"
She tries in vain to swipe the moisture from her cheeks. But with pink irritated eyes and ruined mascara, there's no way he wouldn't notice.
He's wearing a gray suit and burgundy striped tie with his black overcoat. Perhaps the D.A.'s office has him researching one of their cold cases.
"What," she tries. "What are you doing here?" She asks, continuing to wipe her face.
"That's not important," he responds. "And I'm not gonna bother asking if you're okay because obviously you're not."
She quickly pulls up from the railing, nearly colliding with him and feels immediately dizzy. Between how hard she was crying and getting up too fast, Elliot has to stop her from nearly toppling over.
"Liv please," he begins. "I've never seen you like this."
"It's fine," she says, pulling out of his grasp. "I'm fine," she repeats unconvincingly.
"Hey," he starts again. "I know you'd rather it was anyone else," he begins. "But it's me okay and I just wanna help you."
Elliot had gotten a clue when she never bothered calling him. He'd gone about his life as if they hadn't reconciled, as if he hadn't kissed her. Something he thought if she ever allowed or he ever had the balls to attempt, he'd at least get to do more than once. Instead, he had to force himself to forget that his lips ever touched hers.
She's with Brian Cassidy now. Brian freakin' Cassidy and there's not a damn thing he can do about it.
He left her, so any reservation she has about him is his fault. If she would rather feign a life of normalcy with a fifteen year old one night stand because she lost part of herself to that freak William Lewis, he'll just have to deal.
He had such a high volume of crap to sort out after he shot and killed Jenna that he couldn't be bothered to check in on her. He couldn't simply see if she was okay. Elliot couldn't be hassled to return a call, send up a smoke signal or strap a note to the foot of a carrier pigeon, anything to let her know she still mattered to him.
The fact that she'd even given him more than the ten minutes he'd asked for is still a mystery to him. But he thinks maybe she'd done it for nostalgia's sake. Or maybe, out of sheer curiosity as to what his explanation for cutting her out of his life was.
In his mind sending her his mini badge was a peace offering, the extending of an olive branch. But in reality it was a piss poor 'I'm sorry for ignoring you after twelve years of partnership'.
Olivia has a life now that doesn't include him. He is no longer her constant. He is what was not what is.
The longest relationship she's ever had with a man ended three years ago with his abrupt departure. Now he understands how it feels to be sought out only when it suits another person, to be someone's afterthought instead of their first thought.
Elliot sabotaged any of her potential relationships at every turn. He retarded her forward progress. He made her feel like all she had, had been him, that all she needed was him when he so selfishly had someone to go home to every night.
Though it may not have been his intention, it happened none the less.
It was through him she learned that showing vulnerability was a weakness. The phrase "I'm fine", probably wasn't even in her vocabulary until the day he told her that there was no crying in baseball.
How wrong he was.
Twelve years and he'd only seen her shed tears once because while the NYPD said he had to have her back, her heart wasn't included in the regulations. And even if they were just friends, Olivia called him her best friend.
You're supposed to take care of your best friend's heart. But instead of doing that, he shattered it into a million tiny pieces. What he should've also confessed that day after he ran into her, was that keeping her at a distance was just as painful for him as it was for her.
And while he understands her desire to keep him at a distance, she needs someone right now even if it's him.
Olivia abandons her coat on the banister before taking two steps away from him, placing her back against the wall of the small landing. She doesn't know if she wants to let anyone in, especially Elliot.
She hasn't seen him since he ran into her at the market several weeks ago. And between dealing with Nick shooting a fourteen year-old boy, the fallout from that and running the unit after Cragen's departure, she hasn't made time to call him. Then again, she lives with Brian and they barely communicate.
These days Olivia hardly sees him.
Perhaps he's grown tired of her not wanting to share what's in her head. But Cassidy couldn't handle the victims and their stories during his short stint in SVU so she doesn't think he'd understand now that she's one of them. Not that he acknowledges that.
"I don't," she attempts. "I don't want you here," she manages before the tears begin again.
One hand is at her middle and the covers her mouth with the other trying to contain the sound of her sobs. She can't stand the fact that while he wasn't there for all the important stuff that he gets to watch her break down.
"I know," he tells her, stepping closer. "But I am Liv, I'm here and I'm not leaving you like this."
Elliot can't bear to watch her crumbling before him. He gently pulls her away from the wall, wordlessly wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She hesitates initially but brings both arms around his back, resting the smooth skin of her face against the beginning stubble of his.
Olivia carries the weight of the day on her back and somehow manages to resist the temptation of resting fully against him, trusting that he'll still prop her up.
His hold, his scent, the sound of his breathing near her ear, is absolute comfort and familiarity. God help her, she wishes she didn't have to let him go so she takes another minute but eventually pulls back.
Elliot rests his hands on her shoulders.
"Let me take you home Liv," he offers. "My car's in the parking garage."
"Not home," she says immediately, knowing Cassidy's waiting. "Not yet."
Brian can't handle the mental state she's in right now. He'll want her to talk, to tell him what's wrong. He's uncomfortable with silences, has to fill the spaces with words. He'll feel the need to do something, say something and she can't deal with it.
Elliot was always the polar opposite. He seemed to understand when to let her just breathe. And a moment to do just that is exactly what she needs right now.
He looks back and forth between her eyes, making sure he's reading her as he used to. Hoping that he is, he takes her sleeve and tugs on it, indicating that she follow him. And just as she has a million times before, she doesn't hesitate.
They navigate the streets of downtown Manhattan before taking the bridge over to Brooklyn.
The concrete jungle of high rises, skyscrapers and people that can't get to where they're going fast enough, slowly fades into tree lined streets, family owned markets, beautifully green parks and classic brownstones.
The inhabitants of Park Slope are taking advantage of the last minutes of daylight they have left on this late winter day.
A group of teenagers is playing flag football in grass stained covered sweats, thick hoodies under jerseys and fingerless gloves. Toddlers being closely monitored by their parents play on large, colorful jungle gyms in the shape of various zoo animals. A couple that looks to be in their seventies walks their golden retriever. They've probably been married for as long as Olivia's been alive.
She could cry again for the simplicity of it all.
Elliot parks parallel in front of one of the historic looking homes. It has a wide staircase leading up to a mocha colored exterior trimmed in dark stained oak.
There's a large three paned picture window with the drapes drawn. She can only imagine the warmth and light it must allow when opened to the sun's influence.
"Where are we?" She asks, eying the new and unfamiliar surroundings.
"Come on," he says, giving her a small grin. "I'll show you."
They get out and she follows him up the stairs to the tall double glass doors. They walk into a small foyer that ends in a polished oak staircase leading to a second level. To their right is a living room where the big window is located.
The walls are painted a rich gold color, the floors are hardwood and the drapes are a deep burgundy. There's a rustic looking brown leather sofa, accent chairs compliment the contrasting pillows and a steamer trunk coffee table sits across from the brick fireplace.
Olivia immediately feels at home. Above the fireplace is a large mirror. She already knows she has puffy eyes and ruined mascara, so she actively avoids looking at her reflection when she walks over to the picture frame cluttered mantle.
Elliot and his siblings are depicted in various stages, from children to adolescents to adults. She picks up the one of him dressed as a carrot. A smile graces her face just as it had the first time she'd seen it.
"You grew up here."
"I did," he nods, leaning casually against the entryway.
She continues along the mantle looking at his parents and siblings in various candid shots, holiday portraits, pageants and other special events.
"Can I take your coat?" Elliot asks after removing his own.
She hands it to him and he disappears back into the hallway to hang them in a nearby closet.
He's gone a few minutes longer than it should've taken and before she can start to wonder where he is, he reappears sans coat, suit jacket and tie with glass tumblers in each hand. They contain two fingers of an amber liquid.
"I figured you could use something stronger than wine," he explains. "And I could use something stronger than beer."
She hesitates only momentarily before reaching out to accept one of the glasses.
"Thanks," she says, taking a sip. "Jameson?"
"Yeah."
Olivia watches as he walks to the large windows to open the drapes. They're just in time to see the sun setting over the park.
"I love this time of day," Elliot comments.
She joins him. They stand shoulder to shoulder watching the football players waving goodbye to each other and the parents gathering their little ones to take home for dinner.
As she stuffs her left hand in her front pocket she brushes her arm against his. Neither of them bothers to move. Simultaneously she feels his body heat and the minimal warmth of the winter sun on her face.
She closes her eyes and just…breathes.
Olivia's so focused on the tranquil scene beyond the window that she doesn't notice when Elliot walks away. He starts a comfortable blaze in the fireplace and when she looks up he's bent over an old record player she hadn't noticed before.
The smooth sound of a horn fills the silence, complimented by a piano. As a professor, Serena exposed her to most liberal arts, literature and music especially.
She knows Coltrane when she hears it.
The classic jazz doesn't blare intrusively from the speakers. It simply floats out into the room like a cloud of smoke.
Elliot doesn't say anything. He merely walks to the sofa, removes his shoes and sits in front of the fire before taking a sip from his glass. She can almost see the tension flowing right out of him. It seems to be his routine and he's allowed her to share it today, possibly hoping it will give her the same peace.
It's a silent invitation.
She removes her cell phone to shoot Brian a quick text message. Just clearing my head…will be home in a couple of hours. Olivia doesn't want him worrying and she needs this, a break from her life.
When she's finished, her gaze returns to Elliot. She's just in time to catch him staring as if she's some type of mirage. She knows the feeling. Olivia had it when she saw him that day in the bodega. He gives her a small smile before returning his gaze to the fire.
She doesn't smile back. Instead she wonders why things are so easy with him, why she feels so relaxed by him when it's only the second time they've seen each other in a matter of years, especially when that first time was anything but smooth. There is something that has taken root rather quickly and Olivia's trying to ignore it, been ignoring since he kissed her goodbye.
But here she is.
Taking a seat in one of the accent chairs is an option but she thinks better of it and instead decides to join him. She sits in one corner of the worn leather sofa, leaving about a foot of space to separate them.
It's not enough. It's too much.
One hand is on her right thigh, the other is holding her drink. She lets her head fall against the back of the couch, closing her eyes.
"I committed perjury today," she says in a hushed tone. "For the last six months I've done everything I've told victims not to do."
This garners his immediate attention. It doesn't sound like the Olivia Benson he knew. Then again, so much has changed. They're both different people.
"I've blamed myself, second guessed my actions," she clarifies. "Then I did the biggest thing I told them never to do Elliot," she says pausing. "I lied."
She's swiping at another tear that's managed to escape and he refrains from reaching for her again. He knows that she didn't come back with him to be placated. He is hearing her confession just as if he was a priest. As such, Olivia knows she doesn't have to worry about him telling anyone else.
They've always kept each other's secrets.
"I lied to the ADA, the judge, the jury," she admits. "And that freak looked at me like he'd succeeded at turning me into someone like him."
"Never gonna happen," he says, adamantly.
"You…you don't know that Elliot," she responds, moving off the sofa to walk towards the fireplace. "He had me for four days. He tortured me mentally and physically," she adds, sparing him the details. "He wanted to humiliate me further by pleading guilty to multiple counts of rape and sodomy which he did not do," she insists. "As an attempt at a final, 'screw you'".
"You're not him," he tells her, shaking his head. "No matter what you did, you are not some raping, murdering, torturous son of a bitch."
She puts her glass on the mantle before resting both her palms there, continuing with her back to him.
"I beat him with a metal bar until he was bruised, bloodied and broken Elliot," she reminds him. "He's nearly blind in one eye, partially deaf in one ear, had to learn to walk again and a host of other injuries," she informs him. "I am no better than he is."
Elliot gets off the couch and goes to her. Seeing his reflection in the mirror, she attempts to look away. He lays a hand on her left cheek momentarily, returning her eyes to his.
"What about all of your injuries Olivia?" He asks, as she turns fully towards him. "You said yourself you were tortured," he begins. "No one could've taken that and come out the same," he tells her. "Or even alive for that matter," he adds. "He was gonna to kill you."
He takes a step closer to her.
"Listen to me," he begins. "When you're fighting for your life, no force is too excessive," he reasons. "You did what you had to do."
Olivia knows this in her head but her heart doesn't want to go along with the program.
"Short of him being put in a body bag, no matter how it happened, he deserves all he has coming to him and then some," he asserts, placing his hand on the nape of her neck. "Tell me you know that?"
Olivia remembers him touching her there years ago, 'Family is everything', he'd told her after she'd confessed that she'd always been alone. She hated feeling like she was whining. She'd thought for a while after that, that if they hadn't been interrupted by a radio call, he would've said something of more substance like, 'You have me' or 'You're my family too'.
"I know," she answers. "I do Elliot. It's just gonna take some time," she tells him. "And as much as I know he deserves it, I still hate that I compromised myself to put him there," she confesses. "I'm just…I'm tired."
Today of all days, she feels all her years, her job, her life.
"Are you ready to quit?" Elliot asks, sincerely.
"No," she contends. "Hell no."
"He deserves to spend the rest of his miserable life in prison no matter the circumstances," he contends. "And no one will tell you any different."
He refuses to let her wallow in guilt. Elliot knows her morals are eating her alive about how Lewis ended up in prison. But he won't let her beat herself up when the prick deserves to burn in hell.
"I look in the mirror sometimes and I don't recognize who I've become," she admits.
He responds a breath later without hesitation.
"It's the hair," he says, garnering an instant smirk from her. "I almost didn't recognize you either."
She shakes her head before taking her drink and returning to the sofa. The music is still going and she has to admit that the voice in her head has quieted. Olivia's only spent an hour in his company and she's calmer, feels better.
"I'm being serious," she tries again.
He sits down on the couch next to her.
"I know, I just wanted to see you smile," he admits.
She blushes mildly
at his words, unable to meet his eyes because she's not used to him talking so sweetly, not to her anyway.
"You're the most resilient person I've ever met Liv," he continues. "And you're a great cop so don't doubt yourself."
Olivia sips the last of her Jameson and places the glass on the coffee table. She sits back against the sofa, shutting her eyes momentarily.
"Can you just follow me around and repeat everything you've said to me in the last five minutes?" She asks.
"It'd only take you that long to get tired of hearing the sound of my voice," he teases.
"I've missed hearing the sound of your voice," she admits without her normal filter.
They're sitting shoulder to shoulder when he turns and smiles at her. Elliot threads his right hand through her short tresses. And though it's something he's never done, she doesn't bother to protest.
"You really did this huh?"
"After he…I just…I needed a change," she responds, shrugging her shoulders.
"Well change looks good on you," Elliot says, releasing her hair.
Olivia can see the reflection of the dancing flames in his blue eyes, the change in his facial expression and he looks as if his day was just as long. He faces forward again, mimicking her position letting his head fall back against the sofa.
"This is where I live now," he begins. "My mom never sold it, just rented it out while she stays at her place on the beach."
It's her turn to listen and she doesn't mind. She really has missed his voice, mostly because she didn't think she'd be hearing again.
"Said I was gonna get it in her will anyway so it was here if I needed it," he informs her. "I moved in after the legal separation started again," he tells her. "That's why I was at the courthouse today," he reveals. "We finalized the divorce and custody arrangements for Eli."
They sit in silence for a few moments, both seemingly giving the information time to sink in.
"That's why you were in such a hurry to leave," she recalls.
"Yeah," he answers. "I knew that Kathy and I couldn't work things out," he begins. "But it doesn't stop me from feeling like a failure."
"You guys made it past your silver anniversary Elliot," she offers. "That's not failure."
"Thanks," he says. "But I think between the two of us, the bad day award definitely goes to you," he responds. "And I'm sorry."
"For what?" She asks.
"Because despite Lewis and the fact that you've done just fine without me," he begins. "I can't help feeling like I left you to deal with everything alone," he admits. "So I don't blame you for returning the favor of not calling me."
Olivia mimics his position, turning towards the crackling blaze. Of course she knew he'd notice but it wasn't wholly intentional.
"That's only part of the reason I haven't," she admits.
"And the other part?"
"I honestly don't know where you'd fit into my life," she admits, turning to face him again. "I'm different now and yes some of it is because of what I went through over those four days…but the rest has to do with how you left," she continues, searching for the right words. "And all the adjustments I've had to make since."
She takes a couple of moments before starting again and he waits patiently for her to explain.
"I had to learn how to do my job in a new way," she goes on. "I figured out that vulnerability is okay with the right person," she adds, alluding to the fact that he wasn't that person.
Hurting Elliot isn't her aim but this complete honesty thing they've begun with one another is like some type of cathartic switch. She can't turn it off now and doesn't want to try.
"I've also had to learn how to trust again and that my unwillingness to do things another way was retarding my growth," she explains. "And your absence…
"Made it easier to figure all those things out," he finishes for her.
"Yes and no," she tells him. "On one hand, yes, your retiring was the reason I was forced to discover some things about myself," she acknowledges. "But on the other hand, if you hadn't left, I may have never learned those lessons," she adds. "I didn't realize that I had become so complacent with my life until your abrupt exit sort of…threw me off kilter," she says. "So I guess I owe you a bit of a thanks too."
Olivia watches him take in everything she's told him and process it. He looks distressed by all that she's revealed, like another apology is on the tip of his tongue.
"You don't owe me anything," he begins. "Least of all gratitude," he affirms. "I've only always wanted the best for you Liv and if that wasn't clear or I didn't make it easy for you to find happiness, then I'm sorry."
She knows this. But Olivia has never been stupid or naive. He may have wanted her to be happy but he also wanted her comfortably and complacently by his side.
"Let me ask you something," she says and Elliot instantly nods. "What was it about Dean Porter that you hated so much?" She asks. "The fact that he was a fed or that he was interested in me?"
Olivia's never had the courage or the desire to poke that particular hornet's nest with a stick, but she's always known it to be true. While they were partners, and he still married, it's simply something she would've avoided to keep the status quo.
Now, she has nothing to lose, nothing to risk. They have no relationship of any kind at this instant, good or bad. She finds it mildly amusing in watching him bother his lip for a moment, looking as if he's contemplating his answer.
"And before you respond," she warns. "Think about Claudia, Andy, Dana and all the other times we'd worked with feds over the years."
He looks down and away from her before meeting her eyes again.
"I didn't trust him Olivia," he admits. "So no, I didn't like that he was interested in you," he says honestly.
She can't hold his gaze. Elliot wants to say more but he's unsure of where they stand so he won't. Perhaps one day he'll be bold enough to tell her the rest of why he didn't like any of her romantic involvements.
He only hopes there is a "one day" for them.
"We've both changed," he begins. "And you won't get any argument from me about how leaving without explanation was screwed up so I won't bother asking your forgiveness," he continues. "But it stings to hear that you don't know where I'd fit in your life anymore."
Olivia considers this as she focuses on the flames in the fireplace, trying to put her thoughts into words.
"You offered your honesty to me when we ran into one another a few weeks ago," she tells him after a few minutes. "So I'll do the same for you now," she continues, turning to him again.
Elliot's almost scared to hear what she has to say.
"You've known me the longest," she begins. "You know about all of my demons and most of my skeletons," she acknowledges. "So…you've also always had the power to hurt me the worse."
"And that's exactly what I did," he realizes, leaning forward to place his face in his hands.
She would try to comfort him if not for the fact that he's caused her more than one night of tears.
"I don't know how soon I'll be able to say I forgive you Elliot," she says earnestly. "But I am less angry about things than I used to be."
He looks over his shoulder at her, taking in her weary eyes, recognizing he's not the first, last or only person to hurt her.
"Is there anything I can do?" He asks for the second time since running into her.
Olivia offers him a glimmer of hope in a small smile.
"Get me another drink?"
"I'll be right back," he says, getting up and disappearing again.
Her phone vibrates in her back pocket alerting her to the fact that she has a text message. When she pulls it out to check it, she sees it's from Brian.
Got called in. Chinese is in the fridge with both kinds of rice. Hope that's okay. It may be a late one, so don't wait up. ~ B.
'Okay'. There's that word again and she's starting to hate it.
Elliot returns to the room with the bottle just as Olivia's putting the phone back into her pocket.
"Is everything alright?" He asks.
"Yeah fine," she tells him. "Let me ask you another question El?"
"Shoot."
"What's my usual order from General Tao's?"
He cocks his head to the side, squints his eyes in question but doesn't hesitate to answer.
"Szechuan chicken with white rice, steamed veggies on the side why?"
She exhales and shakes her head at the fact that Brian can't seem to figure that out when Elliot had taken notice barely a month into their partnership.
"No reason," she tells him. "Start pouring."
Despite the fact that my life is about to get incredibly hectic again, don't worry, I won't be abandoning this story. The response to it has been a positive one. I try to respond to all reviews but FF doesn't allow me to respond to "guest" reviews because there's no account to send them to. But please don't let that deter you. I love knowing what you think and getting input whether you love it or hate it.
So do what you do and please review!
