Hello! Yes, it's here, I've finally updated! My apologies- I really didn't mean to leave this hanging like that for so long. But as many of you know, life intervened. I will try to be quicker next time, honestly!
Thank you to everyone for the millionth time...I've 'met' so many amazing people through this little story and the fandom in general, and I love you all more than I can say.
A/N: Now that the trial is over, things will be a bit less intense for a while (because I don't think anyone's heart can stand it anymore!). So this chapter has a few violent references, but generally it is sunshine and puppies and kittens compared to the last couple of installments :D Title and all quotes from high life by Counting Crows.
Coming up next week: why Nick is the best (or worst) roommate ever. But until then...
{all apologies, no apologies
this apology doesn't describe
the way it feels to feel for you}
"You're...why are you here?" you ask, because you can't think of anything else to say. You're pretty sure Elliot didn't come all this way to tell you to fuck off, but that's the same thing you told yourself the last time he called, and oh how wrong you were. "If Nick put you up to this, I swear to fuck..."
"Since when do I take orders from Junior?" You sit up straight, wiping at your eyes as he continues. "Look, I know you said...before...that you didn't want me to come here. But when I heard the verdict was in, I needed to- even if I didn't actually talk to you. And when I got here, you were with dumbass and the squad so-"
"What, you assumed I'd be all alone if it wasn't for you showing up? I think you were the one who told me I had dum- Brian so I'd be fine without you."
"That's not what I said. I...I didn't want to start shit for you in front of everyone so I hung back, but when I saw you go through the side door I knew this must be where you were headed."
"Nice detective work," you say almost to yourself, too exhausted and stunned to figure out exactly how you feel about him standing just feet away from you. "What happened to your hand?"
He grimaces, holding it up and looking at his swollen, discolored fingers. "Well, Kathy and I no longer have a TV in our room."
"Let me guess." You don't even have to explain what your guess is- what else could it be?
"Motherfucking..." It's a fortunate thing that none of the news reports were any more specific about the 'mentions of the victim's other sexual partners,' because then not only would the Stablers be missing a TV, but likely a wall or two as well. "That son of a bitch had no-"
"Elliot, I'm not really in the mood to rehash it all. I think I should go."
"That's not what I came here to tell you," he says in a rush. "Can I sit down?"
You look at the small amount of space between you and the wall and shake your head. " You can stand."
"But I feel like I'm looming over you this way. If we could just sit and talk..." He's been so obviously uncomfortable since the beginning of the conversation, his normal bravado diminished, and you tell yourself that's the only reason you're agreeing to hear him out despite his epically poor timing.
"You can stand."
He nods as you repeat yourself, scratching nervously at the back of his neck."Look, I made a promise to you that this time it'd be different, that I wasn't going to take off when shit got tough. And I broke that promise, which...I shouldn't have done that. I fucked up, and you were right. You don't abandon someone you love at the worst time in their life."
You close your eyes for a few seconds and sigh because you are so, so sick of that word and like everything else, it was pretty much all your fault to begin with. "You done?"
"No. I wanted you to know how sorry I am...even if it's not enough, even if you don't believe me." It's not, and you don't.
"So that's what you came here to tell me."
"Nah, I...my motives are a little more selfish than that," he admits, trying and failing to get a smile out of you.
"What a surprise."
"I'm...Jesus, Liv, I'm so fucking tired of missing you."
You open your mouth and then close it again, nodding. "And whose fault is that? Weren't you the one who said you had to...so did you figure your shit out yet?"
"Did you?"
"I've been a little busy these last few weeks, if you didn't know."
"I know, Liv. You know what else I know? When I walked out on you...I should've come right back, let you have it for being such a bitch- cause I know you'd get even angrier if you thought I was letting you off the hook out of pity- and then told you that you could say whatever the fuck you felt like, but I'm not letting you go."
"That's what you had to figure out? That you should've been a stubborn bastard and done the exact opposite of what I told you to do?"
"Isn't that you wanted?" and oh god, you want to kill him. You want to kill him so badly because he doesn't get to do this, break your heart and then come back three weeks later with the answer he should've had 19 days (a lifetime) ago.
Your phone buzzes. "Brian's wondering where I am. I need to leave."
"Tell him you need a few more minutes." You both stare at each other in a silent challenge, neither one moving for a long moment until you give in and do as he asked. "Thank you."
"Why should I forgive you, Elliot? Why, when I tried to apologize and you wouldn't even listen, let alone...why?"
His shoulders slump almost imperceptibly. "Yeah...you're right. Listen, I didn't come here to start a fight with you, not after all you've been through today. I just wanted you to know I was here and I'm sorry and- like I said, you're right, I don't have any of my shit figured out. So I'll go now but...if you change your mind, you'll know that door's always open."
It doesn't make sense because this is what you desperately wanted, to round the corner and find him waiting there, and now it's happening but you're letting him walk away. Once again your first instinct is to try to provoke him, to see how far you can push it so you know whether you're worth fighting for or not. Because right now it feels like he's giving up and you've had enough of trying to change his mind. But then you think about flowers and texted apologies and how he showed up here with no guarantee that you'd even look in his direction, how he was actually willing to admit he was an asshole and not demand anything in return. He's like you in that way. Neither of you are good at putting yourself out there for anything less than a sure bet, but he took a chance and now it's up to you...and you are so tired of playing games. You're tired, period.
"Hey." You stand up, leaning against the wall as he lets go of the door handle and turns back around. "Thanks. You know, for coming here and..."
He's not even finished nodding in reply before you've both closed the small distance between each other, and you wrap your arms around him as far as they can go as you let out a sob. "Hey. It's okay, it's over. You did it, it's all over," he keeps repeating, fingers stroking through your hair, and it might not be the movie you had in your head when you paced the halls with Nick, but it's pretty damn close and it's everything you need.
"I don't have to see him again," you say dazedly, voice muffled. His eyes had never left yours for the entire time you were on the stand, smirking like he couldn't be prouder of this show that he created playing out in front of him. You made the critical mistake of looking in his direction after you finished your recount of the events at the Mayers', trying to summon whatever composure you had left, and he just grinned and mouthed «you loved it». The same thing he had said to you back then...
"And you never will, because he lost. You won." You start shaking your head, trying to speak but not being able to force the words out. "Hey, no. What's wrong?"
"You were there, weren't you listening? Not guilty, not guilty, not guilty...how many was it? I stopped counting after three. You know what that means? I spent hours in front of a room full of strangers, going into graphic detail about the worst thing that ever happened to me, having to sit there and be deliberately humiliated- and for what? Not guilty. In other words, we don't believe you. They thought I wanted it, El..."
Part of you was waiting for him to ask what the hell you were expecting- after all, you knew better than anyone that the justice system doesn't always live up to its name. You were aware of all the possible outcomes, and yet nothing had prepared you to experience it yourself. You're not sure if that makes you naive or just stupid. "Liv. Look at me. Please?"
You raise your head up from where it had once again been resting on his shoulder. His eyes are red and glistening suspiciously and goddamnit, if he starts crying you really will have a meltdown right here in this stairwell.
"He's finally going to prison. He's going to die behind bars, and it's because of you, because you did something that no one else has been able to do." He reaches out, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb. "Cause ultimately, it was all up to you. You were the only one who could tell your story, and you did, and you won. Got it?"
Hearing him say that felt like letting out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. You're not sure that you really believe him, but now you knew he believed you. Believed in you. He didn't think you had failed. You still don't know what to say, so you just nod and press your lips to the corner of his mouth.
"He didn't break you. You're not broken."
You're not broken. You can feel his warm breath on your cheek when he says it, the words traveling underneath your skin layer by layer just like so many others that had come before it. Only this time, you're not left feeling like you're freezing from the inside out. You're not broken, and when he kisses you all the coldness starts melting away. It's hungry and urgent and you're reaching underneath his jacket to pull him closer when he growls into your mouth, trapping yourself between the chill of the wall and the warmth of his body pressed up against yours. Shutting out not guilty and you loved it and you wouldn't lie, would you? as he mouths at your neck and his hands travel up your sides.
"Fuck me," you hiss, still kissing him fiercely. Your thigh is wedged between both of his, grabbing onto his hips to hold him in place as you rock against him. "I mean it. Right here."
His response is muffled by your mouth, but his dick's clearly in favor. Everything's happening so fast and it feels like a freefall right down to the pounding of your heart. You don't care about where you are, who might walk in on you, anything beyond being fucked until all the ugliness of the past three weeks is forgotten.
"C'mon, El, I can be quick," you promise as he palms your breast through the fabric of your shirt. You bite at his bottom lip to try and get his attention, because he's so fucking hard and you're beyond ready for him to be screwing you senseless. "I'm telling you, just fuck me. Up against the wall."
He pulls back in surprise, like he's only now caught on to what you're asking. You're both wild eyed and short of breath and he rests his palm against the concrete to steady himself as if he's about to fall. "Wait, wait...stop. No."
"What the hell are you talking about? C'mon," you say, undeterred and still holding onto him around the waist.
"I'm saying I'm not gonna...I'm not doing this again," and oh godohgod what the fuck are you doing? Of course he wouldn't, not after how things ended last time, not after he all but admitted it'd been a mistake, and now here you are acting so goddamn needy...your face feels like it's on fire and your knees are about to buckle and you're not sure if you want to cry or scream or throw up, maybe you'd do all three if he would just fucking let you leave and stop blocking your escape route with his arm. "Liv. Hey. I didn't- will you stop? Listen for a second. Please, damn it...that's not what I meant."
You're not interested in hanging around to find out what he did mean. "I'm sorry, God, just let me go. I'm sorry," you mumble in a rush. «you dirty little slut.»
"Liv. Stop," he repeats, and when you pause for a fraction of a second he barrels on ahead. "Fuck, that came out wrong. Okay? I'm not saying...all I mean is, not right now. And not that I don't want to."
That wasn't exactly new information, not with the way his cock had been pressing insistently against your thigh up until a few moments ago. "Elliot."
"You're all over the place right now, whether you realize it or not, you're still in shock. And once you've had a chance to clear your head...I'm not gonna let you do something that you might regret."
"Like last time," you say as you stare down at the ground, bristling at his amateur analysis of your current mental state.
"No. Not like last- well, okay. I don't think last time was a mistake...but Liv, you have to admit that it was really shitty timing." He did have a point there, but you're not sure if there ever would've been a good time for you to fuck someone else's husband. "I don't want next time to be the same."
"You assume there'll be a next time," you say coolly, as if you hadn't been pleading with him to fuck you all of 30 seconds prior.
"Well, uh. Like I said...it's not that I don't want to."
"Mmhmm." You lean into him again, your cheek brushing his. "I miss you."
"Fuck, you have no idea."
"I have some idea."
"We're gonna figure this out, okay?" he promises. "Maybe not right this minute, but we will. Together."
"Together," you echo softly. This is real.
He turns his head and kisses your temple. "I'll let you go before someone comes looking for you." He must be able to tell that you're a little hesitant to let him out of your sight, because he adds "Get some sleep, okay? Eat something, rest...then call me when you're ready. Because I will answer."
"Okay. I'm...thank you. For being here and...thank you."
You squeeze his hand and start to walk up the stairs when he calls out after you. "Hey. Tell dumbass he better be taking good care of you."
"I'll make sure he gets the message."
"Oh, and Liv?" You stop again and look over your shoulder at him. "Before, when you called...I didn't say it back to you."
At first you don't get what he means by that, but then you remember the desperate last-second 'I love you' that you blurted out and how all you got back was a goodnight. "El...it's not. Don't..."
"I won't," he says, somehow having managed to decipher what you meant. "I won't say it. But just...I do too. Just know that."
{hey maybe ask yourself sometime
what you need to be forgiven
everything that you've ever done wrong
is the reason that I'm driven straight to you}
"I think I'm going to invite everyone over for dinner tomorrow," you announce.
Brian looks up from the TV, surprised to see you out of bed for the first time since you got home from the courthouse a day and a half ago. "Liv...don't you think you should hold off on that? What about next weekend?"
"You're acting like I'm sick or something, and I'm fine. Everyone's been so good to me and I want to thank them," you say, looking into the fridge to confirm that it was, in fact, empty.
"And that's great but...no one's expecting anything, babe, you don't have to prove to anyone that you're okay."
"I am okay."
"And they know that, because they know you- I just think it'd be better if you take it easy for a few days before you go back to work. It's been a hell of a last couple weeks."
You're aware. You were there for the whole thing. "I think maybe I'll go with some sort of fish."
As it was, you ended up being glad that you didn't abandon the idea simply on his account. You had just gotten back from the store (your first successful solo outing since your meltdown earlier that week) to find him heading off to...somewhere.
"I know, hon, I don't wanna leave but I've been stalling for time since Christmas and it can't wait anymore."
You suppose it shouldn't come as a shock that Tucker's patience wouldn't extend much longer after the verdict had been read. "How long are you gone for?"
"Dunno. Few days? A week, max."
You nod, starting to sort through all the food you've bought for tonight. You're not going to get upset, not like last time when you were crying and begging pathetically for him not to leave. You're not going to admit you're scared to be alone and you're not going to mention how you can tell something's been bothering him for days now, ever since the afternoon when you finished your first round on the stand. You're afraid of what he might have overheard from people who'd been in the courtroom, even though Nick says he was with Brian practically the entire time and he didn't hear a thing, but you're even more afraid to bring it up and find out the truth. So you say nothing, and you force a smile and kiss him goodbye and tell him to be careful. And then you're alone again.
Fortunately, that won't last for long. As you expected, Elliot doesn't want anything to do with your dinner party, but he promised he'd come over afterward so you could 'talk'. He said that was all he wanted, and you believed him. You had been texting back and forth for most of the day yesterday, generally just flirting and joking around, but the conversation had turned serious a few times. He had even confessed that you were, in fact, the only person he'd ever slept with other than Kathy- not that it was a big shock, but you were surprised that he admitted it. (And relieved, but you managed to keep that to yourself). So you weren't counting on anything happening, but you still spent extra time on shaving and moisturizing your legs, and then took a half hour to rummage through your underwear drawer before finally settling on something. You know. Just in case.
But it ended up being all in vain, because you had just said goodbye to everyone and were about to tell Elliot that the coast was clear- and then you got a call saying Nick had been involved in a shooting and you needed to get your ass down to the scene right away. By the time you got home hours later, you didn't even bother to check and see if Elliot would still be awake. You texted him to say you'd call sometime tomorrow and had just laid down on the couch with a drink when the prodigal boyfriend came walking through the door.
"You know, for someone who was supposed to be UC, you sure as hell showed up fast," you remark, not looking over at him. There could be any number of plausible explanations, of course, but you were too tired and worried and irritated at being cockblocked to consider any of them.
He eyes the glass in your hand like it's some sort of mangled animal carcass and shakes his head in self-righteous disapproval. "I'm not doing this with you, Liv, not tonight."
"I'm not drunk."
"I don't care. We shouldn't be talking about it."
"Oh, but when I don't want to talk about something, then suddenly it's-"
"I'm just trying to do my job," he says, and you're not sure who he picked up this smirk in his voice from, but you have your suspicions. "Not personal."
"But that's the thing, it is. You shouldn't be anywhere near this investigation, it's a massive conflict of interest and if Tucker was actually concerned with keeping everything by the book, he would see that. You would see that."
"And so you're suggesting I do...what, exactly?"
You finish the remaining liquid at the bottom of your glass and set it aside carelessly, not noticing how it almost falls off the edge of the table and onto the floor. "Well, the ethical thing to do would be to tell him you can't get involved."
"The ethical thing, huh?" he asks, arms crossed in front of him. "That's pretty good coming from you."
"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"
"You know what I'm talking about."
You're on your feet abruptly, a bit dizzy but ready for a fight, because you don't know what he's talking about but you're pretty sure committing perjury belongs in the 'unethical' category. As does attempted murder, or destroying evidence, or... "Fine, do whatever you want. You obviously don't care if it puts me right in the middle of something I don't wanna choose sides in, do you? So go on, be a good little lapdog. Have fun pretending you're someone important."
"Fuck you," he says wearily, shaking his head again like he can't be bothered to come up with anything else before he trudges down the hall to the bedroom. You know it was a low blow, but that's too bad because you hate this fucking job of his. You hate the hours, the secrecy, the leaving for days at a time, and you really fucking hate the part where his boss and some of his other cronies sat in that courtroom for a week and heard about every single disgusting thing that happened to you. Hell, they didn't just hear- they got to see it, too. You reflexively dig your nails into your arm when you remember the doctor taking the stand to detail the extent of your injuries, using the photos taken at the hospital as an especially attractive visual aid. Not that you were looking. You didn't need to. But maybe you should have, because then you might not have noticed the expression on his face...something just shy of pure ecstasy. «you're so pretty all spread out like that. you're just askin' for me to fuck that tight little pussy of yours, aren't you, sweetheart? you can't get enough...»
"NO," you say aloud, grabbing your empty glass and heading into the kitchen, trying to convince your invisible audience that you're braver than you feel.
It's over. drink.
He can't hurt you anymore. drink.
You're fine. drink.
You're moving on with your life. drink.
Really.
{the disappearing nature of the people we have been
we have begun to change
into the worst kind of people, so unkind}
You and Brian didn't speak to each other any more that night. The next day, other than a few words exchanged in passing while he was at the precinct, your only 'communication' was in the form of half a dozen unanswered messages that you left him when he didn't come home at night. It was under that delightful cloud of contention that you called to let him know you had made an executive decision.
"What? No."
"I wasn't asking your permission. What am I supposed to do? He can't stay there, it's not safe." and I can't be alone. by myself or with you- it's all the same. still alone.
"And Nick has no other friends besides you? Nowhere he can be other than my apartment?" he lied under oath for me, and that's the only reason why *I'm* not the one being busted for excessive force. so it's safe to say I've got his back whether or not you approve.
You close your eyes in frustration. "Please don't start this whole thing again. It's our place, and you're not the gatekeeper."
"But it's okay for you to turn it into an orphanage? Olivia Benson's Home For Wayward Boys?"
"Why do you even care? When are you ever here? You didn't even call to say you weren't coming home last night. I left messages, I waited up to hear from you, and nothing. I..." You shake your head even though he can't see it, falling silent to hide the crack in your voice.
"Liv...fuck, babe, I'm sorry. I mean it," he adds, tone softening. "I'll be home in a few hours, okay, I promise. I'll make it up to you then. I just...I didn't wanna get into it again last night, y'know?"
so instead you don't bother coming home, or even picking up the fucking phone? "Okay. We'll be here," you say, emphasizing the 'we'.
"Fine. But I'm only okay with this because I know you don't have a thing for him. Wait...do you have a thing for him?"
"I'll see you when you get home, Brian."
This was going to be interesting.