A/N: For someone who has never had a real family of her own, she sure seems to know what she's doing, hmm?
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters or basic plot points, I do, however, own the words and storyline of this particular story, so don't sue me, Dick Wolf.
"This is nice," Kathleen sighed contentedly, lying back on a leather reclining chair with cucumbers covering her eyes. A woman in a pink apron was rubbing a mint-green colored goo onto her face.
"This is weird," Lizzie, the youngest Stabler girl, mumbled as another woman in pink massaged orange-scented oil into her hands and wrists.
Olivia chuckled, her own eyes and face covered in green mud and sliced vegetables. "Just relax, girls," she laughed.
Maureen, the oldest Stabler child, giggled from somewhere behind Olivia. "That tickles," she squealed with a laugh, peering down at the pink-clad woman sloughing her feet, part of a pampering pedicure.
Kathleen sighed again, her personal attendant starting to rub pleasantly scented cream into her neck and shoulders. "What gave you the idea for this, Liv?"
Olivia let out a slightly painful moan as her masseuse hit a still-healing and tender spot on her shoulder, remnants of a case she'd rather forget. "We all needed a break, I think. You've been through a lot in the last few weeks, on top of midterms at school, and your father has been..."
"Deliriously happy," Lizzie interrupted. "I don't get it. Liv, did he want Mom to leave? Because he..."
"Lizzie, you know he didn't," Maureen piped in, wiggling her freshly painted toes. "None of us did. Dad's being strong, for us, and because...well, it's calmer around the house, isn't it? Is that wrong to say?"
Kathleen let out another sigh, but this time it wasn't happy. "Not wrong, no," she said. "Just the painful truth. And there's another reason Dad's been so happy, in spite of what happened. A reason we...all...are."
Lizzie looked over at Olivia, who seemed to stiffen even though she was getting a deep-tissue massage. "Yeah," she said. "I just...what did we do? Did we not love her enough? Did she not love us enough?"
Olivia sat up suddenly, nearly elbowing her masseuse in the face, letting the cucumbers fall off of her face. "Your mother loves you, very much." She looked around at the two other girls. "All of you. She love your brother and she..." she felt a sharp pang in her chest as the words formed in the back of her mouth, tasted acrid on her tongue as she let them be born on her voice. "She loves your father. That's why she felt that leaving was right. She wasn't ignorant of how all of the fighting with Daddy affected you guys, and she knew it hurt your dad, too. She knew it wasn't healthy, and no one was happy, and she didn't want to put any of you through any more pain, so she left."
She reached over and brushed Lizzie's hair behind her ear, carefully avoiding the layer of facial mask on her cheek. "She loves you more than she could ever possibly tell you, which is why she made the choice to go. She didn't want to drag you and your dad through a painful situation, and she didn't want to stay in an environment that became toxic. It wasn't fair to any of you, including her, and she just...well, all of you deserve to be happy, and she took the first step toward making sure that happens. That happiness for all of you..." she stopped, choking back a sudden sob, and she smiled at Lizzie. "You look like a mud-monster," she laughed.
Lizzie giggled. "So do you!" she yelled, pointing to Olivia's green-crusted face.
"We all look...absolutely horrifying," Maureen said, and the fur of them burst out into genuine laughter.
"You be pretty when masks come off," one of the pink-wearing women laughed, her thick Russian accent hanging on every word. "You lay back now, Ilsa make you glow."
An hour and a half later, all four girls were definitely glowing, beaming smiles to math their perfected complexions. They each had several shopping bags in their hands, and they were all singing an off-key Christmas carol when they climbed the stairs to the house in Queens. Olivia opened the door and let the girls spill into the living room, their laughter filling the house.
"You had a good time, I take it?" Elliot asked, crossing his arms as he tried to hide the huge grin on his face.
"Liv took us to this French place for tea!" Lizzie exclaimed brightly.
Maureen tossed her bags over her shoulder and added, with wide eyes, "We got facials and mani-pedis, and Liv punched a Russian nun!"
"Hun, not nun!" Kathleen corrected. "She punched a Russian hun!"
Elliot guffawed and looked at Olivia with smiling eyes. "Liv did what, now?"
"She deserved it," Olivia defended innocently. She dropped her bags onto the dining room table and dug around inside one, looking for something. "We didn't forget about you." She handed him a box and winked at him.
"Yeah, we did," Maureen teased. "Just Liv didn't."
"Oh, nice," Elliot scoffed. "You three gowash up for dinner, and put all of thataway before I realize how much you spent."
"We didn't spend anything," Lizzie said with a shrug. She ran over and gave Olivia a hug, kissed her dad on the cheek, and ran up the stairs with her sisters.
Elliot's smile faded into confusion and he turned toward Olivia again. "You paid for everything? All those bags, that had to..."
"Everything was on sale, and half of it was free when you bought something else," she interrupted, not willing to let him make her feel guilty for spoiling the girls who, over the years, had come to feel like her own daughters. "Stop squinting at me and open that before I take it back," she said, pointing down to the box, still in his hands.
He narrowed his eyes, but he grinned at her. "What am I gonna do with you, Benson?"
A million answers she could give raced through her mind, but she settled on a simple, "Whatever you want, just open it."
"Don't leave it up to me," he said, a smokiness in his voice now. "We'd get ourselves into trouble." He licked his lips and finally tore the top off of the box she had given him. His eyes widened as he moved the black tissue paper, and he looked back up at her with a slack jaw. "Liv," he breathed.
"Don't say anything, just...take it out and put it on." She helped him peel it out of the box and off of the card backing. "This is the one, right?"
Dumbly nodding, he let her wrap the watch around his wrist and clasp it. "Why?" was all he could manage.
"I don't need a reason," she said, taking slight pride in the effect her gift had on him. She watched as he trailed one finger around the face of the watch, then brought it up to his ear. "It works, El," she said, rolling her eyes.
He laughed. "I know, I know, I just...I know what this watch costs, and it's not Christmas yet, so I..." he stopped, looking into her eyes he was taken aback by the light in them, the glow, the pure emotion swimming in them, knowing that the same exact things were mirrored in his, reflecting back at her. He moved first, allowing himself this moment, and he pulled her close to him. "Thank you," he whispered into her ear.
Her eyes closed. Her head fell to his shoulder as her arms wound around his body. "You're...you're welcome," she whispered, pushing any thought of this being more than a 'thank-you' out of her mind, but when she felt him squeeze a bit tighter, felt her body being moved by his, to and fro, she smiled. "Are we dancing, now?"
"Mmm hmm," he hummed affirmatively. "I don't know what I did to deserve this, to deserve...you." He blinked as he pushed her away slightly to look at her. "Do you think, um, maybe we..."
"Damn it," she spat, pulling her interrupting phone out of her pocket. She shot him an apologetic look as she answered with a short, "Benson," the annoyance clear. "Hello?" she asked again, her brow furrowing. "Who is this?"
Elliot grabbed the phone and tapped the speaker button, laying it out in the palm of his hand. He listened to the mechanical voice talk over a low, slow version of Silver Bells.
The bells won't be chiming much longer. Accept the gifts I've laid at your feet, stop wasting time. Tick, tock, Detective Benson, I warn you to heed this Yultide rhyme. Once the clock strikes midnight, on this year's Christmas Eve, your chances will be lost forever and the past will have its reprieve. Final warning, mark my words, do what this message tells. I've been patient, but time rings on, just like these Silver Bells.
The dial tone was sudden, sharp, and Olivia and Elliot stared at each other over the phone, still balanced on his splayed hand. "You don't think…" he began.
"What? No," she snapped, taking her phone back. "I have no idea who this is or what they want, I haven't been given…"
"Me, Liv," he whispered, interrupting her. "I think...Kathy knew how we...how I... feel. Maybe she left so we could...find out if…"
Before he could gather enough gusto to string together his full theory, his phone rang, a familiar ringtone.
"Cragen," Olivia said, happy to have staved off a life-altering conversation for a few moments more. She watched as Elliot jutted a thumb toward the coat rack and she knew the drill. She moved fast, yelling a maternal warning and a few "I love you"s up the stairs before grabbing the coats off the rack and opening the front door. "What now?"
Elliot took his coat from her as he said, "Two guys in Santa suits were found in an elevator downtown, in a...uh...compromising position." He shivered as he stepped out into the snowy evening. "Ho ho ho, huh?"
She rolled her eyes and laughed, following him to the SUV in the driveway. She inhaled sharply, trying to shirk the joy of the day spent with the girls and settle herself into a professional mode. But the one thing keeping her from focusing was Elliot's half-spoken thoughts, his explanation of her mystery texts and calls, and the heavyweight feeling that he was absolutely right.
A/N: We find out the truth, and if they take the chance, next!