A/N: Kinetic, the energy expended when parts move in any direction at any speed, as long as the motion is continuous.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the show or the characters, but, oh, how I wish I did.
March 19th, 10:41 PM
"Don't you think you should slow down?"
Olivia gave a short scoff as she signaled the bartender, the way her fingers curled inward as if she was saying Bring it on. "Have a day like I had," she spat, "And then criticize my drinking habits." She nodded politely at the dark-haired man as he swapped out her empty glass for a full one. She took a long sip, grimaced slightly, and then took a good look around.
The people in the stools, hunched over the marble with their feet propped up on a brass rail, had identical expressions of dejection on their faces. Couples at tables shared flirtatious glances and took turns sipping from the same margarita glass. She shook her head and tilted it toward the pretty redhead next to her in the booth. "She was my age, Casey," she breathed, keeping emotion buried under the bourbon. "Only a few months younger than me."
Casey Novak rolled her eyes and stirred the straw around her gin and tonic. "And she was also dating a psycho," she said flatly. "I know she was your friend, but she was held captive by a lunatic for months, there's nothing you could have…"
"I should have known," Olivia interrupted harshly. "When she didn't answer me, I should have known something was wrong, she always…"
"Mm, no," Casey screwed up her face and shook her head, and then dropped a finger to the screen of Olivia's phone. "The only person who always answers you is Elliot. How many times have I ignored your messages, huh?"
Olivia leaned over, silently telling Casey she was just proving her point. "And what if one of those times something was…" she stopped herself. Her stomach churned as she inhaled, the stench of cheap cologne and expensive perfume, an overwhelming top note of lemon-lime, the delicate blend of hot wings and nachos, all mixed together and settled like an anvil in her chest. "Forget it," she sighed.
Casey watched silently as her friend downed half of her drink, then suddenly realized what could cause such a spiral. "I know you've been through a lot, the past couple of weeks...fucking sucked, but let's be real, Benson. You didn't ask me to come watch you drink away the stink of that safehouse or salve the scars from Sealview." She reached across the splintering tabletop and grabbed Olivia's wrist before it could bring the glass up any higher. "Where is he, tonight?"
Narrowing her eyes, Olivia yanked free from Casey's grip and gulped down the rest of her amber liquor. She swallowed twice, the burn of straight alcohol doing little to disinfect her mouth and throat. Her fourth glass, and still all she tasted was Elliot. "What do you mean?" she asked, assuming playing dumb was a safe bet, at least until she was too drunk to prevent honesty.
With a shake of her head and a click of her tongue, Casey flicked her perfectly manicured nail against her glass. "Stabler," she said his name the way a snake might hiss. "Last time you had me out all night, you drank yourself into oblivion to forget the fact that, instead of going to dinner with you, he went home to his…" she sat back, her hands flopped limply onto the table, and her eyes glazed over in realization. "Fuck, is that where he is? You're drinking yourself stupid because he…"
"Can we not talk about it?" she shook her head and pushed her empty glass away.
"You have got to stop making yourself miserable over him," Casey proffered, with a slight growl in the demand. "Codependency is not attractive!"
Olivia's eyes widened. "Excuse me? Codependency?" She shifted in her seat, the squeak of her pants against the leather was loud and clear. "I am absolutely not codep…"
"Like Hell you're not!" Casey barked. She chuckled, then, and folded her arms. "The two of you, fully and completely reliant on each other, and God forbid you're out of each other's sight for more than five seconds, one of you has a nervous breakdown."
Olivia backed up slightly so the bartender could drop fresh drinks in front of her and Casey, then in an irritated whisper, started to defend herself. "Codependency requires one or both of the people involved to have a severe illness or…"
"Addiction!" Casey snarled as she balled a fist and slammed it down on the table, some of her tonic spilled over the side of her glass. . "You are fucking addicted to him, Olivia, and I wish I could understand why, but you are missing countless chances to be happy, and why? So you can sulk while he spends time with his perfect wife and Norman Rockwell family, and you find comfort at the bottom of a bottle just like your…"
"Novak, I've never hit a woman, but you finish that sentence and I swear on my life, I will make an exception!" Elliot stared at the redhead, his nostrils flaring, the telltale vein in his neck pulsing and throbbing. He bowed his head in Olivia's direction. "Move over," he gruffed, then added, "Please."
Olivia slid to the side, letting Elliot sit right next to her, and she gasped slightly when his hand fell into her lap. His fingers curled around her thigh, moving higher, grip tightening. She swallowed back hard and watched as he moved his other hand to her glass, his knuckles whitening as he raised it to his lips. "I guess I don't need to ask you how…"
"Didn't even go home, yet," he interrupted with a breath. He licked his lips, dropped the glass and said, "Gimme a minute." He shot a narrowly pointed glare at Casey and gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching as he spat out, "Me and Liv have what other people only dream of ever having, it's not codependency it's a fucking bond that means...fuck, everything! And she is fucking nothing like her mother, I think she deserves a couple drinks after the shit we had to deal with...and after what she's been through!" He smirked, wrapped his fingers around Olivia's glass again, and leaned back more as he added, "Or is the fact that you thought I was going home to Kathy instead of coming to you, huh, Novak?"
"Oh, your ego has its own fucking atmosphere, doesn't it?" Casey shook her head at him and then looked at Olivia. "I guess since he's here, I can go home." She sighed, closed her eyes for a moment, and then whispered, "Sorry about...before, I just...I can't stand to see you hurting, or upset, and if it's all because something did or didn't happen with this guy, it's my job as the best friend with boobs to talk you out of it." She shared a small smile with Olivia, shot a lewd gesture toward Elliot, and then tossed a few ten dollar bills on the table as she got up and walked away.
Once she was out of view, Elliot whipped his head toward Olivia, one hand at the back of her neck and the other still gripping her thigh. He leaned closer, knowing she could feel his hot bourbon scented breath on her lips. "You tell her? About us? That why she was so pissy?" He rubbed his nose against hers.
"No, I…" she cleared her throat and tried to pretend that he wasn't making every single nerve in her body burn. "I told her you went home, because I thought that…" she blinked and suddenly was staring into his stunning blue eyes, practically kissing him. "Why didn't you?"
He inhaled once and then pressed his lips firmly to hers, only for the briefest of moments. When he pulled away he let his head drop to the cushioned back of the booth. "I got halfway over the bridge and realized...I can't do it. Not by myself. I knew you were coming here, so I...I came to get you, hoping you'd take the ride with me, be there when I completely lost my shit. Also, I, uh, kind of hoped you'd drive us back to your place, um, ya know, after I put the final nail in the coffin of my dead marriage."
"So, what, I'm your getaway driver?" she retorted, raising one brow. She looked at him, her heart giving a swift kick against her ribs, and she couldn't help but think, at that moment, that Casey had been right. She had a bonafide addiction to this man.
He grinned back at her and gave her thigh another squeeze. "Exactly," he nodded once. "You can sober up in the car."
"But I'm not…"
"I kissed you, in a crowded bar, odds are we know a good chunk of the swigbacks in here, and you didn't even try to stop me," he interrupted, holding up a finger. "You had a few too many." He scooted over and got to his feet, then held out his hand.
Whether it was the results of her slight inebriation or the whiff of his scent, something made her put her hand into his, grip it, and rise. The last thing she wanted to do was witness what would certainly be the reconciliation of the century, but she couldn't say no to him. Couldn't refuse him anything. Fuck. Codependency, after all.
She followed him, her hand still in his, through the seedy bar. The sticky floorboards were more obvious in her haste to keep up with him, and they breezed through the stench of stale beer and fried foods to get to the door.
"I'm not…" he pulled her closer to him, and in the cool night air, he could only smell two things - the chance of rain, and her. "I mean everything I said to you, the last couple days...last night…" he exhaled and chewed on his lip for a moment. "I'm tossing a coin in the air, here, and I'm not sure if I'm gonna land heads up, but what i do know is that I want you with me, however it turns out. You, okay?" He waited, hoping for a word or two, but he got a slight nod instead. Taking it for what it was, he guided her toward his car, opened the door for her, and settled her in for a tense, silent ride to Queens.
The only sounds between them as they drove were heavy breaths, the cracking of Elliot's knuckles, and after some time, the falling rain against the metal roof and swishing windshield wipers. It wasn't until they'd turned onto Elliot's street that Olivia spoke. "You don't need me to come in with you, do you?"
He turned the key, killing the engine, and looked over at her. He shook his head and unbuckled his seat belt. "Just promise me…" he leaned closer, gently kissed her cheek, and whispered, "You'll be waiting for me, right here, when I get out." He pressed his forehead to hers. "Because I'm coming back out." He kissed her forehead as she nodded, and then he took another deep breath and got out of the car.
He pulled on his tie as he walked with more purpose and pressure, heading up the steps to his front door. He reached for the knob, but stopped once he saw the peeling paint on the wood. His brow furrowed, and he wondered why he'd never noticed it before, why he hadn't bothered to look. He turned the knob, feeling it give at his command, and he braced himself for impact. "Kathy," he said calmly, seeing the woman he once loved sitting on the sofa. "Let's not make this any harder than it has to be, huh? You know why I'm here."
Kathy flipped up her blonde ponytail and relaxed against the back of the couch. "I packed you a bag, it's by the door. I already told you, I really was expecting you to come home, I thought you were just being…"
"Come on," he complained. He loosened his tie and took off his jacket, then plopped into the chair across from his wife. "Not about your unwarranted phone call to Liv, we need to talk about...what's happening here." He scrubbed a hand down his face, scratched at his chin. And hung his head. "Stop acting like it bothers you."
"Bothers me?" Kathy repeated, an accusation hidden in her voice. "Of course, it bothers me, Elliot! My entire adult life, my husband, the father of my children...has one foot out the door," she threw an arm out to her side. "The reason why is waiting in the fucking car, don't think I don't know that!" She held up both hands and spoke quickly. "Before you even say it, I know she isn't the only reason, but she's a pretty big one." Her palms dropped to her lap, she plucked at a few errant threads of her satin pajama pants. "Before you left...before you got involved with your case and were," she paused and sighed. "In trouble...one of the last things you said was that you didn't know when this became so hard."
He gave a silent snort of accordance, nodding at her once with his lip curled between his teeth.
"Maybe it was around the same time you found someone who made you realize how easy it's supposed to be," Kathy gave. She pulled one knee up to her chest and dropped her chin onto it, then toyed with the lace cuff of her lavender-colored pants. "We got into this way too young, you and I. We had Maureen before we were even ready to drive on the highway by ourselves." She smiled when he laughed. "It's always been hard, Elliot. But it's because we weren't the full versions of ourselves, and when we grew up, it hit us. Like you said, we have been working way too hard to stay inside this carved out little life that...neither of us really fits into anymore."
He looked up, feeling pain behind his eyes and again, he cracked his knuckles. "How come it's so easy for us to say that?" he asked on a breath. "How can we be sitting here, at the root of our dissolution, and just…" he licked his lips and twisted himself in the chair, feeling his back bend and pop. "I'm actually...I'm upset that you aren't more upset. What have the last twenty years meant to you?"
"Oh, Elliot," Kathy exhaled. "The same thing they meant to you. Growth, four beautiful babies, a lot of mistakes made with the best person to make them with, and a safety net because we were always both too afraid to find out what happened if we jumped without one."
He was silent, broodingly so, until he smiled. "We did make four beautiful babies." He looked around at the living room, the memories flooding back to him. Quiet Christmas mornings, adorable Halloween parties, sweet moments with his kids and horrendous arguments with his wife, and he looked back at Kathy. "I put in an offer on a place in Midtown. Not gonna get it, but I wanted you to know... I think we should sell this place. As much as it'll kill me to know someone else lives here, it'd hurt more if you and the kids were here without me."
"It would," she agreed, and she ran her hands up and down her leg. "The lawyers will settle everything, right? This...doesn't need to be messy."
He looked at her again, for a moment seeing the seventeen year old cheerleader that tried too hard to get his attention and succeeded. He blinked and she faded into the thirty-seven year old woman he couldn't seem to feel much more than friendship for, and that's when he knew. He got up, walked over to her, and kissed her cheek. "Messy means we're angry," he shrugged. "I don't think we're angry."
"No." Kathy peered up at him. "We're not angry. We're…" a tear rolled down her cheek. "Over." She watched as he tossed his jacket back on, grabbed the handles of his duffel, and looked back at her. "Go. Jump without a net." She sniffled. "Olivia'll catch you."
"Shit," he chuckled. "No, she won't. She's jumping with me." He looked toward the stairs. "Tell them I love them, I will be there to pick them up after school." He turned, wrapped his hand around the knob, and blew out hard and fast. He let go of the anger and resentment, and he turned one last time and stared at the door. He frowned a bit. He couldn't find the crack in the paint anymore.
A/N: Next? A glimpse into a new case, and the closing of an old one.