Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.
Olivia looked around the bedroom, her lip bitten between her teeth and her arms folded over tightly, hugging herself as though keeping herself together. She took a hesitant step closer to the bed, trying to remember the last time she'd slept in it; sleeping in the same warm bed with Elliot was all she seemed to recall, nothing before, and she didn't want to imagine anything after. Though, eventually, she thought, she would have to. With a sigh, she sat on the edge of the bed and reached underneath it, pulling two flattened and folded duffel bags out into the middle of the carpet. Another sigh escaped, and she rose to her feet, heading for the dresser that remained half-filled with her clothes.
"What are you doing?"
She heard his voice ask the question, but her heart broke with the answer. "Packing," she barely whispered. She didn't turn around, she just kept moving forward, and both hands pulled on the brass knobs. His hands stopped hers, though, and her confused and shocked eyes darted upward, staring at him. Briefly, she wondered how he'd gotten to her so quickly, but she brushed the thought away with another heavy breath. She knew how fast he could run, especially when he was pissed.
"Don't," he said, more dominantly than he'd wanted, in an attempt to sound less needy.
She raised an eyebrow. "I kind of have to," she said, blinking once at him.
He tightened his grip on her hands. "Whatever it is, we can work it out, I mean, I don't even know what happened. If I upset you, or if it was the kids, we just need to..."
"Slow down," she said, pulling one hand away from his to press against his chest. "Jesus, calm down," she said, her eyes widening.
"You can;t do this," he said in return, one of his hands flying to cup over hers, pressing it further into his skin.
She smiled at him and tilted her head. "You really expect me to take my showers upstairs, then traipse around the house in a towel, come all the way down here to get my clothes..."
"Wait, what?" he asked, flustered.
She chuckled lightly. "We need to do laundry," she said, "And I need to bring the rest of my clothes upstairs." She shook her head then, noticing he didn't look any more relaxed or relieved at all. "What just happened? Talk to me?"
He shook his head fast and pulled on both of her hands, hard. He threw his arms around her and squeezed tightly, his heart beating a hard and fast rhythm against her chest now, clear through and beyond his own. "Don't do that to me." He trembled a bit as he held her, shaking his head again, more adamantly than he had before. "Please, just...don't...don't do that."
"I'm sorry," she tried to say, but her head was pressed so tightly into his body that it came out as more of a muffled and unintelligible noise. She twisted in his arms and unwedged herself enough to look up at him. "What the hell is the matter with..."
"I thought you were leaving," he said quickly, still panicked. "Because of what Cragen said when you told him you were staying..."
She snorted, cutting him off. "And where would I go, huh? I couldn't leave, even if I wanted to, which I don't." She ran her hands down his back, hoping to feel the knotted muscles loosen, but she only felt him stiffen. "As for what Cragen said, I told him I was staying with you for the kids. He knows they aren't exactly okay yet, especially Maureen. What he said was a little out of line, but it wasn't unexpected. And as long as he thinks he was wrong, we're okay." She squinted. "Breathe. What...you don't look...are you okay?"
He shook his head again and squeezed her tighter, burying his head into the crook of her neck.
She let her nails scratch up and down his back, over and over, as she tried to soothe him. "This happened this morning, too," she reminded him. "At the park, when we saw the vic in the..."
"I couldn't help it," he interrupted, taking a deep breath. "I don't know what's the matter with me, but I just...I took one look at her...the hair, the...I couldn't see her face but the way she was..." he closed his eyes and took another breath. "She looked like you."
Olivia's eyes narrowed, her hand moved, reaching slowly for his cheek, and she brushed the side of his face gently. "I'm not going anywhere," she said, holding his stare. "I'm not exactly sure what's going on here, with us, but if you think I'm giving up before we even round third base, you're crazier than I thought."
Finally, he smiled, giving in and laughing softly. He took another deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, I...I know that, I just..." he slid a hand down his face and cleared his throat. "Whenever I think of you leaving, my heart stops. I told you a long time ago, I don't know who I am without you, and it took...all of this bullshit...to make me realize just how much I meant it." He let his hand fall over hers, and he peeled it away from his face, linking their fingers. He tugged her toward the bed as he moved, turned, and sat on the corner. He looked up at her, expectantly. When she sat beside him, he exhaled slowly and looked into her eyes. "I've always known, since the day you walked into the unit, that I would never be able to work with another partner. Not well, anyway. But these last few months, living with you, letting myself really...feel...without worrying about consequences or fallout...something clicked." He blinked and breathed. "Losing Kathy...fucking sucked. But it wasn't...things with her weren't..."
"I know," she whispered, swiping the thumb of her left hand under his eye and over the apple of his cheek as her right hand squeezed his a bit. "You don't have to keep explaining that to me. I know."
He nodded. "Losing you, though...I would lose...I would lose everything. I'm not okay, my kids are a mess, Maureen has nightmares and Kathleen keeps finding her mother's clothes and shoes in her closet...the twins haven't really dealt with it as severely, but they're not old enough to fully realize..." he stopped, feeling hot tears fill his eyes. He swallowed the large lump that had formed in his throat and he tried to smile. "And then there's you," he whispered. "You run in when Maureen starts screaming, and you hold her, and she stops. You convince Kathleen that wearing those clothes and those shoes is okay, and it's a way to keep her mother with her. You try to tell the twins what's going on, and you told them all about Heaven and angels and things I didn't even say to them." He smiled again, bringing his free hand up to the side of her face, cupping her cheek slightly and pulling tenderly. "And you put me back together, rebuilt me, and now I can't breathe if I even think of a life without you in it, by my side, where you belong." He brushed his nose against hers. "I can't breathe when I think about losing you." He moved a bit closer to her, his lips moving against hers as he said, "I don't want to think about it anymore.:"
She shook her head, feeling his hot breath against her mouth, and she whispered, "Don't. Don't think about it. It's never gonna happen."
He nodded once and moved the final centimeter, pressing his lips to hers, kissing her. His hand wound around her neck, keeping her from pulling away until he was damn good and ready to stop kissing her, which wouldn't be for an eternity if he had his way.
She curled her fingers around his, their hands still clasped, as her other arm snaked around his neck. A soft moan escaped her lips, landing on his tongue, and it became the catalyst of a much deeper, much more intense kiss.
Voices broke through silence, moans and cries, whispers of each other's names and promises that weren't supposed to be made just yet. Heightened senses gave way to goose-bumps, hearts echoed rapid and thunderous kick-drum beats, and hands became travelers, marking territory and excavating new ground. It wasn't until a knock on the bedroom door hit his ears that he even realized where they were, what they were doing. He pulled back, away from her, quickly pulling his hand out from under her shirt and wiping the corners of his lips. "Yeah?"
The door creaked open. "Daddy? Is Liv in there with...oh, hi." Kathleen said, giving Olivia a small smile. "I thought you were staying upstairs, now."
"I am, I just...we were...I needed..." she pointed, brandishing her finger at the dresser.
"Oh, right," Kathleen said, nodding in understanding, though Olivia wasn't even sure what she had actually said to her. "If you're not busy, um, Maureen needs you." She looked at her father, and then back to Olivia. "Her English teacher gave her a poetry assignment, and she doesn't want to do it, and she won't stop crying. Dickie was trying to calm her down, and I think she tried to bite him."
"Oh, God," Olivia gasped, running passed Kathleen, out into the hallway and up the stairs to Maureen's bedroom.
Elliot tried to slow his breathing again, and he looked at his daughter. "What, um, what's the assignment?"
"She has to write a lyric poem. You know, it's one of those longish rhyming ones, like song lyrics?" She sat next to her father. "She said...the poem needs to be about our family. Our parents and stuff." She looked down into her lap as her feet swung, hitting the side of the bed. "The teacher told her that, with what happened, that maybe her poem should focus on Mom. Frankie Thompson told me she ran out of the class, and she spent the rest of the day in the nurse's office. Daddy, she's been crying since second period, and all she kept saying, over and over, is..."
"She wanted mommy," Elliot assumed, wrapping an arm around his daughter's shoulders.
"Well, yeah, she said that a few times, but...Daddy, she was asking for Liv." She looked up at her father and blinked once. "Liv is the only one who can get her to calm down, and she won't tell me why. Biting Dickie I can understand, I wouldn't want the muddy little worm touching me, either, but she...she wouldn't talk to me."
Elliot's lips curled under and he pulled Kathleen into a hug. "Honey, she will. Right now, she needs someone to tell her it's all gonna be all right. Someone that...she'll believe. Live just knows what to do, because she lost her mom, too, and she got through it. Maureen can't talk to you guys...or me, not yet, because we're still trying to figure out what happens next. Liv knows."
Kathleen let out an audible sigh and said, "I never thought of it that way. That's why she helps so much, isn't it? Because she knows what to do? What to say?" She looked up at her father and smiled. "And because she loves us, doesn't she, Dad?"
"Yeah, honey," he said, relaxing for the first time in a long while. "She loves us, very much."
"Yes, I do," Olivia said softly, coming back into the room. "She's asleep. I, uh, I think I need to have a conversation with that English teacher of hers. I have some poetry of my own that I think she'll really love."
"Okay, we're talking about that," Elliot said, suddenly realizing that maybe Kathleen didn't know the whole story.
Olivia brushed Kathleen's hair back and said, "It's gonna have to wait." She looked at Elliot. "We gotta go."
"Now?" he asked, annoyed.
Olivia nodded. "Now," she said, and then she kissed Kathleen's cheek. "You're in charge, go upstairs, monitor homework, make sure your brother..."
"Takes a bath and brushes his teeth," Kathleen said, nodding as she got off of the bed. "I'll make him use the stuff Dad washes the stove with. It cuts grease." She skipped out of the guest bedroom and set off to babysit.
"She was kidding," Olivia said, chuckling at the befuddled expression on Elliot's face. "I think."
"Where are we going?" he asked, scratching at his five-o'clock-shadow. He followed her out of the room and toward the front door, taking his jacket off of its hook.
She pulled her own leather coat on and said, "Central Park." She waited a beat as they stared at each other. "Again."
"Who?" Elliot questioned, his brow furrowed.
"Angela Dowers," she told him. "Plays our first vic's mother on the show. Someone's attacking the cast, one-by-one, and we have to..." Her words were stopped by his lips, a tender kiss that held more emotion in it that one would think possible.
He pulled away slowly, unhappily, wishing he could spend more time proving things to her, things he didn't know how to say, afraid to say them in the wrong way, at the wrong time.
"What was that for?" she asked, stunned. She licked her stinging lips, missing the feel of his mouth on hers. "Not that I'm complaining," she added, smirking now.
He smiled. "Don't know when this'll be over. And I told you, I need you to now that I'm..." he paused. He looked into her eyes, and he didn't need to say anything more. He could tell by look and the light glaring back at him, she already knew. "Let's go."
She smiled a bit broader and opened the door, giving him a playful shove onto the porch. Laughing, they poked and prodded each other the whole way down the steps and along the driveway, enjoying the ease and comfort of each other as they got into Elliot's car. They quietly snickered as they hooked into their seat belts, breaking into short bursts of hysterical laughter when certain words and thoughts popped into their heads.
"You really do know exactly what to do, and say," he told her softly, adjusting the rear-view mirror.
"I'm just doing something I haven't done in...years." She sighed and looked at him as he started the car.
"What's that?" he asked, curious, backing out of the driveway and turning onto the road.
She pressed her lips together, thinking. "Following my heart," she almost whispered. "Wherever it leads."
He kept his eyes on the road, stilling except for his wrists and hands as he drove. "And, uh, where...where is leading you?" He knew what he wanted her answer to be, and he prayed, hoping God would listen to him.
She smiled, reached across the console, and rested her hand over his on the gear shift. "Right to you," she said with a shrug, and when she saw the smile spread over his face, she knew he'd be right there, waiting and welcoming.
"When, uh, when we're done, I mean, really done, case closed," he started, turning the wheel and heading for the bridge, "I'm taking you to dinner."
"That's a good idea," she said, turning to look out the window. "The kids have been asking to go to Fiorello's and I don't think I know any more chicken recipes, so it might be a good..."
"Just you," he interrupted. "You and me. Um. Like...dinner," he tried to explain.
It hit her, and she felt suddenly breathless, freezing, her eyes losing focus as colors blurred and breezed by the window, not registering in her mind at all. Slowly, her lips twitched and curled, forming a genuinely happy smile. "Yeah," she said, nodding a single time and turning back to look at him. "Dinner."
Peace and Love
Jo
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