AN: As always it's been way too long, and this is way too short. But alas, here it is.
They had been stationary in his car for over 15 minutes without the engine going and she was starting to see her breath cloud in front of her. The night air had a chill to it that was already permeating through her jacket.
It had been 24 hours since she had been sitting across from him at a bar. Twenty four hours since he'd told her his daughter had tried to take her own life and now here they were parked outside their family home, Kathleen a resident within the walls once more.
"Thank you for doing this," Elliot whispers quietly, the sound getting trapped in the confines of the sedan as a roll of nausea passes through her stomach. She wasn't ready for this, she was barely ready to dredge up her own demons let alone guide Elliot's daughter through her own.
"I can't tell you how much this means," Elliot says, hurt threading through his voice but all it does is cause a surge of guilt to pulsate through her chest.
Olivia wades through the silence, she's still stuck on something that has been plaguing her the moment he had asked for her help. Her chest pounds at the concept of bringing it up, but she has to know before she enters that house.
"Elliot," she begins, her chest thudding with apprehension as she slowly turns to face him. "Are you asking me to speak to Kathleen as a detective.." she begins. "Or a.."
But she can't say it. Damn it. She's said the word countless times through the course of her healing and yet here in front of him she has no way of finishing her sentence without her throat closing up.
Victim.
She feels her eyes start to prick with tears.
"Or a what?" He watches her carefully, his face is deadpan, but she knows - there is no possible way that he didn't read it in the papers or hear it through the preverbal grapevine.
Welcome home Detective Benson.
"Or a lieutenant?" He questions deliberately, his face remaining steady and she wonders how he can do that. How he can sit there and spout a line of bullshit right to her face. If the news of her promotion travelled to his ears, then clearly so did her attack. She breathes through her nose, trying to figure out if she should push it or if she should just let it go.
But then it comes - ten fold - and it hits her like a wave.
"Or a mother?" he whispers quietly, his voice small.
Her mouth opens to respond but it closes just as quickly. He is staring at her intently, waiting for a response but she can't look at him anymore.
She moves her gaze straight ahead. Up until that point she had assumed he had no idea. And if he had dug that deep into her personal life, Lewis wouldn't have been hard to find.
"Liv," he whispers. "Or a what?" he repeats to her profile.
She wonders if the lie burns on his tongue but it doesn't make her angry. She never let him in when they were partners so why should she start now. She knows he wants her to say it, that word – and maybe if it were years ago and they still bared the connection they once had she might have succumbed.
But not here.
Not tonight.
"Just tell me what you want me to say Elliot," she sounds tired, worn out, weak.
He feels her shift immediately and allows her space to wade through the silence.
"Tell her it's going to be okay." His eyes moves off he profile and down the darkened street ahead of them. "That things will get better... that it just takes time." A wave of silence passes through them and she feels like he's reading a script, one that she's learnt first hand isn't so easy.
"All the things you've said to countless victims over the years," he reminds her.
To yourself.
She lets out the breath she is holding, her fingers tapping softly on the door handle before she's shaking her head with sadness because she knows no matter how many times she has said those words to herself, to the victims, she's still not entirely sure they are true.
She feels the weight of his stare, the desperation in his silence and the undeniable pull towards a connection they once had.
Her eyes prick with more tears, because she had pictured this - wondered countless times what it would be like to see him. How it would feel to hear his voice, to look into his eyes, to smell his scent - to just sit in the same space with him and be. But it feels different to how she expected, their edges seem jagged now, parts of a puzzle that no longer fit.
A pang of hurt passes through her at that point because despite the ghost of their history that currently surrounds them, she knows this can only ever be temporary. And that once she is done here, she will have no reason to stay.
TBC