A/N: You are the witness of change, And to counteract, We gotta take the power back. (Rage Against the Machine)
DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story, words, and dialogue are mine. © TStabler
It's been a little over half an hour since he's walked in, no one has noticed him. He stands in the back, unassuming, watching the sqaudroom from a vantage point he never usually gets. He's stunned at the way Elliot barks out orders, respectfully firm, and the way everyone nods and listens without argument. Fin even slaps him in the arm on his way out of the room, the younger detectives salute, the uniformed rookies nod and call him sir.
He notices almost immediately that Olivia hasn't moved, she's been handed a stack of files and she starts rifling through them immediately, knowing what she's looking for, but staying in the room to look for it. His head turns, then, and he takes in the fresh coat of paint, the slightly newer chairs, and he grins as he crosses his arms. His attention is drawn back to the front of the room, near the door to his office, and he waits for an explosion. He watches. He waits. It never comes.
Elliot's harsh but necessary scolding fills the air, and Cragen can tell that the kid messed up, it cost them a life, and he cringes as he braces himself for an avalanche of Stabler's rage. Again, it never comes, and what is witnessed is Elliot throwing an arm around the kid, bringing him to the back of the room, dropping him into a desk, and whispering, "We've all been where you are. Question is how are you gonna handle it?" Cragen smiles remembering the exact moment when he said those exact words to Elliot.
"Yeah," Elliot sighs, and he turns on his heels, finally facing the man behind him. He narrows his eyes, Cragen seems to have aged twenty years in the last three months. "I remember every piece of advice you've ever given me, and I hear myself spouting it out more often these days." He chuckles and scratches at the start of a Five O'Clock shadow. "Welcome home."
"Starting to think I shouldn't have come back," Cragen says, and he's serious. He uncrosses his arms to shake Elliot's offered hand. "You seem to have things running like a well-oiled machine, here."
"Today," Elliot scoffs. "Figures, I finally get a handle on this whole 'captain' thing the day you come back," he laughs. "Your office awaits." He slaps the man on the back as they walk. "I put all your stuff in boxes, so don't get scared when you walk in and see the desk bare. I didn't want anyone going through it, or…"
"That case CompStat slammed on you," Cragen interrupts. "That's my fault, they're bogging me down with the consequences for that, so you may be keeping your captain pants on for the next few days." He turns and smiles. "And you," he says to Olivia, "Are a sight for sore eyes."
She smiles and hugs him back when he moves in, the action shocking her but welcome nonetheless. "We missed you around here," she says, and then she folds her arms loosely, a file still in one hand. "Not sure how much more of Captain Stabler I can take." She laughs and then shoots Elliot a wink. "Kidding."
"Sure, sure," he gives her a flattened smile. "You find anything?" he asks as he takes the file out of her hand.
Cragen holds up a hand before she can speak. "Can we just...take five, here? The three of us?"
Olivia shoots Elliot a concerned look, then watches him nod. She follows as Elliot leads the way toward the office, hiding a smug grin as she remembers what had happened in the room a few hours ago. "What's up, Cap?"
Cragen looks around, noticing that except for the cleared-off desk, everything is exactly where he left it. "You really didn't…"
"Not my office," Elliot cuts him off with a shrug and purposely sits beside Olivia in one of the visitor chairs. "Never will be. I used it for meetings, private phone calls," he licks his lips and tugs on his blue and grey checkered tie as he gives Olivia a sideways glance. "Came in here to calm myself down a couple of times."
She elbows him, shaking her head at him, and then turns her attention back to Cragen. Absently, she yanks on the hem of her shirt, pulls at the sides of her jacket, and she clears her throat. "We in some kind of trouble?"
"No, no, the exact opposite," Crage smiles softly, leans back and grips the edge of his desk as he kicks one foot over the other. "I can't tell you where I was, or what I was doing, but know that I spent every free second thinking about the two of you, wondering how I was gonna handle this when I got back, if I'd make you choose, make the choice for you…"
Elliot tilts his head and speaks up. "Is that why you told me to ask her if…"
"Did you?" Cragen asks fast, interrupting him. His fingers pull at his silver cufflinks, his feet shuffle against the tiles. He exhales when he sees Elliot nod. "I'm assuming she said yes?"
"Every time," Elliot answers, and he leans back and reaches out a hand toward Olivia's neck, swiping his fingers under her chain. He toys with the pendant, the gold medallion that once gave him solace, a lucky charm, a reason to come home in one piece when he was in the service. Now, it means all of that and more. Olivia is his solace, his lucky charm, and his reason to come home every night, he promised to always be faithful to her, in every single way, for the rest of his life. The emblem on the gold disc is identical to the one etched into his skin with the exception of one small inked addition. He smiles at the thought of the olive branch now living happily in the mouth of his tattooed eagle. "Semper Fi," he whispers to her, letting the medal drop back to her skin.
She raises an eyebrow. "Ooh-rah," she intones back to him, and then notices the confused look on Cragen's face. "Oh," she breathes, "He asks me every morning, just to make sure I haven't changed my mind."
"No ring?" Cragen asks, and then he points to Elliot. "Are we talking about the same question, here?"
Elliot laughs loudly and says, "Cap, uh, I didn't really think…" he cracks his knuckles as he folds his hands in his lap. "For one thing, that medal around her neck is more expensive and more meaningful than any ring I could ever afford to get for her, and, uh, no one is supposed to know, so a ring would raise too many questions we can't answer."
"Gonna be raising a lot of questions anyway," she says, and she looks at him with a darkness in her eyes, severe desperation, pleading with him to tell Cragen what they've been waiting to tell someone, anyone, everyone.
Elliot holds her steady gaze, his fingers move toward her necklace again, and he remembers the backward way everything had happened. He'd asked her to move in, then she bought the house, he'd asked her to have his child, they'd tried like hell, and the night he'd officially asked her to be his wife, they found out they'd been trying for nothing. "She's pregnant," he says, and it sounds so absurd that he has to turn to Cragen and ask, "Did I say that out loud? I've been thinking it, ya know, over and over, so I don't know if I actually said it."
"You said it," Cragen states, there's an unexpected coldness in his voice. His eyes are wide, his hands are gripping the desk so tightly that his knuckles are white. He doesn't know whether to whoop and holler or slap them both silly. "She's…" he turns to her, refusing to talk about her and not to her. "You're...having a...and it's his…" he breathes deeply and pulls the knot of his tie loose. "You're not lying to me, you're…"
"Do you wanna see the tests?" Elliot asks, one brow arched and his hands clasped over Olivia's. "She took six. I have pictures of them, I have to keep looking at them to convince myself it's real." He shakes his head and chuckles at himself. "It's like holding a winning lottery ticket in your hand. You keep thinking you're reading it wrong until you get the check," he babbles, and he moves knowing it's safe to kiss her.
Cragen smiles as he sees Elliot's hands hook around Olivia's stomach, his palms spread over her lower body protectively. "So this is what Tucker meant," he points to them. "He told me you've been different. Calmer. Happier. This...this is why."
"And, uh, therapy," Elliot admits, and he holds up a hand. "Don't look at me like that, I don't have a choice, but it actually…" he swallows hard and says, "Skoda isn't such a whack job after the first eight conversations." He leans back and again his free hand moves to his tie. He tugs it slowly and says "I work out a lot, and, uh, vent...in other ways." He licks his lips and thinks about how he doesn't yell and punch things in the box because he screams and slaps all he wants when he gets home. He doesn't fill Cragen in on that bit of information, though, he simply moves his right hand back to Olivia's left.
Cragen gives him a firm nod. "Good," he says, "You'll need a level head with a wife you can actually let yourself go toe to toe with, four kids, and a baby in the house." He points a finger at Olivia. "Speaking of which, you are, as of this moment…"
"I already benched her," Elliot interjects, "Ya know, um, as acting captain, it was well within my rights. She's strictly in-house, and we've already filed for leave, so in a couple of months…"
"How many months?" Cragen asks, and he straightens up and looks around the office. The frames on the wall have less meaning now, the folded cot in the corner tells him that Elliot did what he never could after Marge; moved on, started over, learned to love again, found himself. "Well?" he spins back around and shoves his hands in his pockets.
"Four," Elliot sighs, rubbing the back of his left hand over his forehead. "She's taking two before, I'm out a month later, we're planning on coming back…"
"Take the max," Cragen affirms, and he catches Elliot's eyes. "After she has the baby, I don't want to see either of you in this building for a full twelve weeks, paid, unless you're bringing the kid to see me." He laughs and then sighs, an elongated breath. "You deserve that." He glances at Olivia. "Both of you." He checks his watch. "Tucker's gonna be up here in ten minutes, I expect he'll yell at me for a while and then suspend me or something, so you two, get out of here while you can. If I can talk my way outta this, I'll see you in the morning, if not...Tucker will call you when he's done with me and you'll have to march your ass back here." He holds out a hand and when Elliot takes it, he says, "Take care of her."
"Always," he promises, it's easy to make because he makes it every day. He rushes, then, past Olivia, toward their desks, and he grabs their coats and his keys. He takes her hand and pulls her into the hallway, but he stops in front of the stairs. With narrow eyes, he tugs on her again, heading down the corridor, around a corner. He punches open the door to the gym and waves between machines and punching bags until he gets her into the locker room. "Right here," he says, leading her across the concrete floor toward the line of lockers, one of which is still dented and mangled. "This spot, right here."
"What, when you almost broke your hand the first time?" she jokes, but she sees the look in his eyes and bites her lip. She knows what it means. What he wants. "I give," she says, and she looks over her shoulder to make sure no one else is taking their break with a workout.
He watches her as she turns back to him and when she looks at him, he asks her, "How long have we been partners?"
She smirks, remembering, and she checks her watch, the timer in the corner blinking at her. "Three years," she says, "Five months, twenty-one days, fourteen hours, twelve minutes, thirty-nine seconds," she blinks once. "Forty seconds."
He grabs for her, both of his large, rough hands come to cup her face, he pulls her close to him. "So almost ten months ago...I stood right here...and asked you to help me figure out a way to control...everything, my whole life was falling apart and you...you put it all back together." He slides his hands down her neck, her arms, her sides, and he loops one hand behind her at the small of her back while the other rests over her belly button. "You've given me more than I deserve."
She wipes the crescents under his eyes with her thumbs and moves in for a kiss. Once her lips leave his, she whispers, "We deserve this. Together. You and me."
He lets out a strangled laugh and nods as he sniffles. "Yeah, yeah we do, after all the bullshit…" he sniffles again. "I saw standing right here when I told you that no matter how angry I got, I never raised a hand to my wife or kids, and I swear…" he lifts his eyes from her stomach to her strong gaze. "I never will." He smirks then. "Unless you ask for it," he adds.
Whether it's the look in his eyes or the words from his lips, she can't be sure, but it mixes with her hormones and she moves into him again. Her mouth slants over his, she nips and bites at his lower lip, and she whispers, "Make it hurt."
"Fucking Christ," he mumbles against her lips, and suddenly his hands are working to get her pants down, he can feel her tugging on his, and he's trying like hell to back them into the corner so if anyone walks in they won't be seen. It's not fueled by rage, but it's something else he has found that he cannot control. "God, get this fucking thing off," he garbles, her lip in his mouth, as he fights with the clasp of her belt as his body finally hits the cinder blocks in the corner of the room.
When her belt finally gives, she hears him grunt and tug, her pants drop to her ankles. She moans and tosses her head back, the way his mouth seals around her neck at the same moment he thrusts into her sends shocks through her. "Elliot," she whimpers, rocking into him, "Oh, God." She meets his eager body as he moves, his back against the stone wall. Her forehead drops to his. "So fucking good," she whispers to him.
He grunts as he pulls out of her and turns her around, and as he pushes her forward into the wall, he wraps his right hand in her hair. "Tell me," he demands, the words hit the back of her neck and he yanks on her hair hard. The palm of his left hand caresses one beautiful cheek of her ass and he says it again. "Tell me," he barks, and his fingers hit against her skin hard. He smirks when she yelps. He spreads her legs a bit, squeezes and grips her ass, and he moves forward again, pushing into her.
She drops her head back, it falls against his chest. "I love you," she says, and she backs her ass up as he thrusts. A delicious moan escapes when he slaps her again, he pulls her hair a bit harder, her smile broadens.
"Say it again," he orders, and he moves faster, harder, slipping his left hand around her waist. His right tightens in her hair and he pulls her head up straight, drags it toward his mouth. "Baby, I need to hear you say it again," he whispers.
His hot breath hits right into her ear, chills run down her spine, and she moans as she trembles against him, on the brink already due to her overly sensitive body and raging hormones. "I love you," she whispers. Her right arm curls back to wrap around his head, her nails drag through his short hair.
"I love you," he returns, the fingers of his left hand draw circles over her stomach as he tugs her hair enough to gain access to her lips with his. He kisses her as he thrusts harder, but slower, savoring this, bringing them to the place everything began, the same room, the same promise. "I love you," he says against her lips, and he feels her tighten, her nails dig into his scalp, he twists her hair until she whimpers into his mouth and he knows she's cumming.
She rides it out, slowly rocking against him, and she feels his muscles clench as he loosens his grip on her hair and slips his hand down, around to the front of her, between her legs. "Oh, God," she exhales.
He slips his fingers through her wet heat, finds her clit with ease, and slowly teases it as he thrusts slowly, deeply, bringing her up higher, farther, so when she cums again she'll take him with her. He feels it happening before he's ready, but then again, he's never ready to end it with her. "Fuck," he spits out the moment his body siezes in hers. "God, Liv," he growls. He drops his head to her shoulder blade, bites the first bit of flesh he comes in contact with, and shoots into her in a new rhythm. He feels her pulsing around him and moans in time with it, as if playing percussion in a rock band. "Baby," he breathes, his hands still caressing their respective bits of skin.
She moans lowly as her head falls back again, landing on his shoulder. "Hmm," she intones. "We're having a baby."
He holds her tighter, and he stays in her for a moment, he slides his right hand up to her chest, keeping his left over her stomach, and he swears he can feel two heartbeats under his touch. He tilts his head and smiles when he sees that she's tracing his tattoo with her fingertips, her left index trailing over the still-sore etching of the olive branch, the part of her that's permanently under his skin.
She closes her eyes and sighs, feeling him deftly moving and dragging both pairs of pants up at the same time. She turns and helps him with his while he tries to figure out how to relatch the clasp of her pants and belt. When they're settled, she looks at him and takes both of her hands in his. "No limits, no safewords," she says softly, and she kisses him just once, right on the lips, almost delicately. "And we wouldn't have it any other way. Am I right?"
He kisses her again and backs her away from the wall, out through the locker room, into the gym. "Absofuckinglutely," he says with a chuckle before kissing her again. For so many years of his life, he's been raging against a machine, set to self-destruct because he didn't have anywhere to turn when things had grown too intense. Now, in his arms, he has the solution, his saving grace, his fail-safe. She's his guidepost when he feels lost, his safe-house when he needs to hide from the world. She's his outlet, she calms him down when he panics about his mother's illness, she's there when he gets caught up in thoughts about his father, and he tries like hell to be everything for her. He knows he is, she tells him every day, and he thanks God for it all. He opens his mouth to tell her something he thinks she needs to hear, but his phone rings.
She sighs as he presses his lips to her forehead and she watches him answer the call as they head down the hallway. She stops when he does, and she knows that they're turning around. "Lemme guess," she cracks, "You're back on duty, Captain Stabler?"
"For the rest of the week," he tells her and he swats her in the ass playfully. "Has its advantages, though, doesn't it?" He winks at her.
As she laughs and walks with him, she asks, "You sure you can handle it? You're not gonna lose it on Richardson, are you?"
"No, baby," he straightens out his tie and walks with a bit more swagger in his step. "Trust me. I got it all under control."
A/N: Sometimes when we least expect it, our emotions handle themselves. Thanks for hanging onto this one with me. The end.