Disclaimer: Not mine.
FYI, the song this week is "Better Days" and is possibly the best song ever written. I highly recommend it. Hmm, there's an idea for next season's post-eps...
...And here we go!
So take these words and sing out loud
'Cause everyone is forgiven now
'Cause tonight's the night the world begins again
Goo Goo Dolls
Hmm, he thinks fuzzily. It's dark. That means it's not morning. That means he's not supposed to be awake yet….
Without the participation of his mind, his hand shoots out, presses a button on his phone and brings it to his ear. "Sta'ler," he mumbles.
Form far away, a familiar voice says something very fast. Elliot sits up and rubs his eyes. "Whoa. Liv? That you?"
"I woke you up," she says, instantly contrite. "I'm sorry – I didn't mean to, I didn't realize it was so late – "
From this he deduces that she isn't calling about work; he relaxes slightly and settles against his pillow. "It's twelve-thirty. Not that late."
"I'm sorry."
"Her voice is so small that he's starting to get concerned and his head isn't even free of sleep yet. "Hey," he says lightly. "I'm your partner. That means not only are you entitled to wake me up whenever you want, you're actually obligated to."
"Obligated," she repeats.
"Yeah. You need to keep me on my toes."
"Gotcha."
"Okay," he says, now that he's a little more awake. "What were you saying? More slowly this time."
"I… it's not important."
Like hell it's not. "You wouldn't call me at twelve-thirty in the morning unless it was important," he says patiently, even though the hesitations in her voice are all he really needs to know this.
She clears her throat. "I… I just, I had to tell you that… you do help me."
This is approximately the last thing he was expecting, and it's a statement so profound that he can't think of what to say.
"You said you just want to help me," she says hurriedly, "and I don't want you to think you don't…"
"I wasn't there for you," he says in protest.
"That's true," she says quietly.
Even though he was perfectly aware of the fact, hearing it in her voice still hits like a blow to the gut, so breathtaking that he can't manage the words I'm sorry.
"But you were there," she goes on, "you know, physically, there, and that… that's not nothing. It helps."
Her words have a challenge to them, a wanna-make-something-of-it? kind of tone. He's used to that from her, though, and he's busy concentrating on what she's actually saying. "Liv," he says, trying not to sound shocked. "That's not enough."
"Well," she says uncomfortably. "It's a lot to me."
He closes his eyes against the darkness, because this hurts, and he's trying to figure out how to convince her that she deserves so much better than that when it occurs to him to go in an entirely different direction. "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
In the code he cracked years ago, this means that she is very much not fine. And also she probably knows that he knows that.
He wonders when it became all about keeping up appearances.
"You want me to come over?"
"No!"
"All right," he says, taken aback by her vehemence. "Geez. I won't then. Can I ask why?"
He's not expecting an answer, but instead of changing the subject she hedges. "Well…"
"Well?"
"I'm kind of already in Queens."
He spends a moment trying to decode this one, then gives up and calls it a good thing, a step, an invitation. "Okay. Where are you?"
"Um. Some kind of trashy diner that's still open." She mumbles this information and the cross streets very quickly.
"Okay," he says again. He gets the feeling he'll be saying that a lot tonight. "You sit tight. I'll be there soon."
"Elliot," she says, in a last-ditch attempt to lock him out, "you don't have to – "
"Yes I do," he says clearly. "You're my partner."
While he drives he coaches himself. Patience, because this is incredibly difficult for her already. Compassion, duh, and that shouldn't be hard because this is his Olivia, his partner, and all he wants is for her to be herself again.
The tricky part is going to be balancing that with the fact that she is his partner, after all, and she's bound to get defensive and suspicious and will most likely hit him again if she thinks he's treating her like any other victim.
And she hits damn hard.
He nearly runs off the road because he's busy pounding the steering wheel in frustration. This shouldn't' be so complicated, taking care of her. It should be simple. It should be instinctive.
On the heels of that thought comes another: why not?
As he finally finds the diner and pulls into a parking space, he's telling himself a new line: he'll follow his instincts. And her. With luck he can handle this like they used to years ago.
He finds her hunched over a cup of coffee in a booth by the window; Elliot slides in next to her. "Hey."
Olivia regards him with amusement lurking in her eyes. "You know that's way number five to ruin a first date before it starts."
"What is?"
"Sitting on the same side of the table."
"Really? Number five?"
"I got about seventeen."
He doesn't ask if they're all from personal experience. "Well. Good thing this isn't a first date then." To prove it he slouches down and props his feet on the seat opposite.
"Making yourself comfortable?"
"You know it." A waitress approaches and he waves her off with a "Just coffee, thanks."
"She's really gonna hate us," Olivia murmurs.
"Why?"
"'Cause I've been sitting here for at least three hours going, 'Just coffee, thanks.'"
"Maybe I'll have to get some food then," he says speculatively, looking around for a menu.
"Pig."
He grins. She's calling him names; that's either a good sign or she's still trying to fight this. "How you doing?"
"I'm all right." She cups both hands around her coffee. "How are the kids?"
"Liv –"
"Elliot." She tips her head back to look him in the eye. "How are the kids? Tell me about them."
You owe me, her eyes say. Please. And since this small reprieve is within his power to grant, he thinks back to the stories the twins shared over dinner and he takes his coffee from the cross-looking waitress and he starts to talk.
He's not sure how long he goes on; thanks to an active one-year-old and two cases of teenage self-absorption his repository of stories is endless, most involving friend drama (Lizzie scorns it but knows all the details anyway), various attempts to pass the drivers' test, and Eli's discovery of worms (much to his mother's chagrin). Olivia listens and sips her coffee, unusually quiet. Another woman might not want to hear about such frivolous things right now, but she's never been like any other woman. She's more like him, finding these small things a welcome distraction, knowing from long experience that tragedy comes in large doses but happiness does not. So he talks while customers arrive and eat and leave around them, while the waitress's high heels click back and forth across the checkered floor, while outside the window the night deepens. He talks until something breaks in the kitchen and he accidentally brushes against her shoulder and realizes that she's shaking.
"Hey," he murmurs, cutting himself off midsentence. "You okay?"
She nods but keeps her lips pressed tightly together as though she's afraid of what might slip out.
"You wanna get out of here?"
After a moment of hesitation she looks up at him, then nods again, slowly.
"Okay," he says, then looks away so that he can wave at the waitress for their check. Olivia moves for her bag but he gets to it first, stashes it on his other side and pays himself.
"Can I have my bag back?" she asks waspishly when he stand to let her out of the booth.
"If you insist." That's the way to get actual words out of her, he notes: annoy her.
Neither of them seems to have anywhere in mind to go, so they just walk, silently at first because the darkness fills the space between them better than words ever could.
"I'm sorry," he says finally.
"For what?"
"Because I should have done this a long time ago."
"Oh? And what exactly are you doing?"
"I'm not exactly sure."
Apparently this is the right answer because she smiles a little and ducks her head. Heartened, he runs with it. "But whatever it… Liv. I should have been there for you all along."
"You keep saying that," she notes.
"Maybe because it's true." He pauses to consider the red light in front of them; there are no cars coming anywhere but they wait anyway and he kicks the pavement absently. "You know, this is the part where you're supposed to be furious with me."
"I'm not mad at you."
"No, really. I don't mind. I deserve it."
"Elliot." She shakes her hair back to look him in the eye. "I'm not. I'm not mad."
He can't help but gape at her. "Why the hell not?"
"It takes too much energy."
"Liar."
Caught, she breaks his gaze in favor of studying the sidewalk. "I…I was mad at you. For a long time. But, El, that was the easy way out. I'm not doing that anymore."
Before he can formulate a question she lifts her face to his once more. "You're here now," she says hesitantly.
"Yeah." He can't tell why there's fear in her eyes and then she looks to the traffic light, which has long since turned green. Without another word they cross.
TBC...
Pleeeeease review! Oh and a gold star to ally for being scarily perceptive.