Notes: Elliot and Olivia stuck in an elevator? Why the hell not?
Ames, thank you so much for tightening this chapter. And for discussing certain body parts with me (to the point I started a poll on twitter JUST BECAUSE). You are amazing. I love you.
This will be 2-3 chapters.
"Well, if that wasn't a waste of time." Elliot's stride is purposeful, the frustration in his voice thick like syrup as she comes to a halt and jams her finger against the call button.
"It was a long shot, Elliot." Olivia tries to be rational and shake off the coat of disappointment. The lead they've been following has run dry, so, this is it. The case is pretty much cold, their liaison cut short. "We gave it a shot," she offers as she hears the elevator humming on its way up.
"Bet that'll make your Chief happy. He still telling you to keep your distance?" He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his grey dress pants, giving off a casual vibe that's total bullshit. He's pissed that anyone, even Chief Garland, had the audacity to tell her to stay away, be it personally, or professionally. It's been months since she told Elliot that she was advised not to get involved with him, yet it bothers him no less, now.
With his eyes circling in on her, Olivia scoffs, shaking her head. "He wasn't impressed when Bell requested I take a look at what you've got, take that as you will." One thing is for sure, Stabler and Garland? That is never going to be a love story. Not by a long shot.
The elevator stops at their floor, announcing its arrival with a familiar 'ding' before the doors slide open. Olivia gets in first. Elliot follows, his steps heavy, his jaw set.
She pushes the 1st floor button, leans against the metal wall behind her. "How come it irks you so much?"
"It doesn't," he grumbles. The doors close, and with a small jolt, the elevator rumbles to life.
"Like hell," Olivia scoffs, one brow climbing up, defiantly.
He looks like he bit into a lemon now. She finds it highly amusing, especially because she clearly never kept her distance, against every word of advice, and what's worse, against her own better judgement. Staying away certainly would have been the more sensible option. It would make her life a hell of a lot less complicated, too. She believes that firmly. But Elliot is Elliot, and she could never stay away from him.
Never could, never will.
She feels, as always, compelled to help him, help fix him, his family, his life. She knows she can't but that doesn't mean it's going to stop her from trying. What's self-preservation compared to standing in his immediate proximity again, grasping at a hint of what had been?
They aren't what they used to be. Quite honestly, she has no idea what they are at this point. All she knows is that something always brings her back to him, to wanting to see him, be around him, make sure he's okay. It's far greater than her, than what she can grasp, or what she understands. Logic, when it comes to Elliot Stabler, goes uncompromisingly out the window.
Always has, always will.
She feels pathetic for it, that's for sure, but why fight something she cannot change? She's come to accept it, just as long as she can keep Noah out of it. There's a reason Elliot hasn't officially met her son.
Opposite her, Elliot frowns, but doesn't take the bait. Instead he mimics her, leans back, both of his hands encasing the grabrail. The lights flicker briefly, and simultaneously their gazes shoot upwards.
Strange, Olivia thinks, the corners of her mouth drooping unceremoniously.
Elliot's eyes jump left to right, still fixed on the ceiling and then there's an unwholesome, hollow sound as the elevator stumbles to an unexpected halt. Again the lights flicker. Olivia straightens, her eyes finding Elliot's.
For a few beats they wait with bated breaths, but nothing happens. Instead of the constant whirring they've heard before, deafening silence engulfs them now.
"You have to be fucking kidding me," Elliot grumbles, pushing off the wall.
Olivia swallows, realizing this isn't good. She looks at the door, as if she can will it open. They must be cursed, because the lights flicker out for good, leaving them in total darkness.
"Oh, come on," Olivia mutters. "Come back on," she pleads, refusing to accept that this is happening. They can't be stuck in an elevator at midsummer, no less. There's something about being stuck in a goddamn elevator that's giving her the creeps. The fact that they're standing in total darkness isn't helping. Her mind flashes to news she's heard of people being stuck for twenty-four or forty-two hours until someone got them out, and holy shit, that's a level of disaster she can't deal with.
"What do you think happened?" She wishes she could hide the quiver of fear in her voice. So much for staying calm in a crisis.
"I don't know." Elliot produces his phone, his lock screen illuminating the small space. She steps closer to him. "Shit. Can you get a signal?"
He turns on the flashlight and examines the elevator panel as Olivia fumbles for her phone. "Crap. No service."
Elliot presses the 'open door' button repeatedly.
"Try the call button," Olivia urges, running her hand through her hair. It's like ninety-five degrees outside, and it's already too damned hot in here with the ventilation off. They have no water. No food. And how long is the air gonna last between the two of them, anyway? Not exactly a rational thought, and yet it's right there, louder than anything else.
Elliot tries the alarm button next, expels a breath. She can see him shake his head and swallows hard. They could be anywhere between 42nd and the lobby.
"Look, I'm sure maintenance is working on it as we speak, that's what the call buttons are for," Elliot tells her when her breath comes a little harsher than before. "It's gonna be okay, Liv." He grabs her upper arm, squeezes. His warmth permeates her in an instant, grounds her as much as she can be grounded.
"I know," she says, as she rubs her forehead. "You think we should call for help?"
"I think we should just sit down, wait it out. They're gonna get us out of here in no time." She thinks she can see a smile tugging on his face in the dimly lit space. Elliot shrugs out of his jacket and discards it on the floor before rolling his shirt sleeves up.
"God, it's hot in here," she says. Following his lead, she takes off her blazer and sits down. Elliot does the same, propping his phone against the wall so the flashlight illuminates the confined space.
"Maybe turn off your phone, just in case."
"Just in case what?" she asks, pulling her legs up.
"In case it takes a while," offers Elliot cautiously.
He's right of course, they need to be smart about this, so she checks for a signal again, then turns it off. Olivia leans her head back, hugging her legs as she takes a few conscious breaths to calm herself down. For some reason, although Elliot's so close, he's still too far away. She wants him closer for comfort, the kind his touch provided a few moments ago.
"You ever been stuck in an elevator before?" Her gaze swipes the three walls surrounding her, right, the one he's sitting against, left. Slowly. Steadily.
"Nope. You?"
"God no," she chuckles, stretching her legs out again, her shod foot bumping against Elliot's. "Not necessarily an experience I wanted, either."
"And with me of all people, huh?" His nonchalance does nothing to soften the blow of the statement.
She scrunches her eyes together, cocks her head. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Means I bet you'd rather be stuck here with anyone else." His voice is wrapped in regret and hurt, making her wince.
"I'm not sure why you'd think that, Elliot." She inhales slowly, folding her hands in her lap. She knows she's been cautious and guarded, but she thought that is to be expected after he abandoned her. She set a few easy rules for how she'd allow him back into her life, and he has no idea that she's broken half of them already.
"You're still keeping your distance," he says, pointing between the two of them.
"In what?"
"In whatever this is. I have no idea, you tell me. What are we?"
"What are we?" she repeats, momentarily stunned.
Of course she's asking herself the same question, always coming up empty. Whatever they are these days, it defies clear definition. One brow crawls up, challengingly. "That's rich coming from you. So far you've told me to get lost twice." The accusation is dripping sarcasm. "And that's after 10 years of radio silence."
"That is not what I did, and you know it," he growls quietly. "Come on, Liv."
"I'm not sure how else 'Back off', and 'I didn't ask you to be here' can be interpreted, but try me. I'm all ears," she replies defensively.
"I wasn't in a good place then, Liv. I'm sorry. Wasn't right to say that, I just didn't know how to-," he shakes his head, works his jaw. "I didn't know how to talk to you, Liv. You were just too close, and my kids... It was all...too close."
It surprises her, his candidness, but the initial rejection still stings. She went out of her way to show him support, stretched herself thin for his family until it left her feeling empty and pathetic for even trying. He's so deeply ingrained in her, carved into her flesh and bones, there's no refusing him. He's where she begins, where she ends, and every nuance in between, whether she likes it or not.
He is better now, of course, and maybe that's the ostensible reason she hasn't given up on him, on them. They still work well together, like when his task force helped investigate Simon's death. It just reminded Olivia of what they used to be.
What she, against better judgement, hopes they can be again.
"I can't answer that. What we are. I don't know." Her face twists with the uncertainty between them. "I can tell you that I'm trying to figure that out." Across their feet their gazes meet and she shrugs, her lips a thin line. "I can also tell you that you're the only person I'd want to be trapped in an elevator with," she smiles crookedly. "I'm pretty sure if it was anybody else, I'd be freaking out right about now," admits Olivia, starting to unfold the origami of her emotions. "You still make me feel safe like no one else can, Elliot, and you don't even have to try. I don't understand it, but here we are." She nudges him with her foot and watches him expel a breath, processing that information.
"You're scared of stuck elevators?" He's hitting the brakes for the both of them and he'll never know the gratitude she feels for it.
"That's what you take from this?" she chuckles easily before blowing out a breath, her voice sedate. "I'm terrified."
"It's a building full of big shots, and suits, Liv. They're not taking the stairs. We'll be outta here soon." This time it's him nudging her foot, and it shouldn't rumble in her stomach like it does. "What are you scared of?"
"Both of our batteries dying. Sitting in total darkness," she admits, her hands sliding off her lap and stretching out across the cool tile floor.
"Since when does the dark bother you?" His brows fold in wonderment.
She'd never been squeamish about dark places, but spending an entire day in the trunk of a car, well… it changes things. That, however, is not a conversation to be had here and now.
"Not so much the darkness, more like the combination of darkness, confined spaces, heat, bad air," Olivia explains. "Long story." It sounds like it's not a big deal when it's huge, elemental even. She prays that the heat isn't going to get more suffocating than it already is, because she can feel the threat of panic deep in her bones, trying to claw its way to the surface.
"Should I ask?"
She wonders if he can read her, if he senses the reason she's anxious is so important, giving him a fair warning.
"I'd rather you wouldn't." She's not ready to have this conversation, to dive into what happened all these years ago. She may not ever be ready, but it's only a matter of time until Elliot finds out, one way or another. She wants it to come from her, and there's only so long she can delay the topic of William Lewis.
"Then I won't," says Elliot, simple.
Tension she hasn't even been aware of slips from her body and she inwardly sighs, relieved. "Thanks."
"Welcome, Liv."
XXXXXXXXXXX
"Two hours," Elliot announces wearily. She appreciates his effort to appear unworried, and for once she regrets knowing him so well.
"What?" she presses. "Tell me."
"I've got ten percent left."
"Great," Olivia groans, grabbing a fistful of her blouse, starting to fan herself with the thin silken material. She's completely unnerved by the fact that nothing has happened since the elevator jerked to an abrupt halt. No movement, no flicker of light, not even a moment of comfort the whirring sound would give her. Not a second of it. The small space is as hot as it is outside, so for the past thirty minutes, Olivia has been consciously reminding herself that everything is fine, and she can breathe, even though it feels like there's too little air.
"For fuck's sake, it's too hot in here," she hisses through her teeth, bumping the back of her head against the wall.
Elliot himself had loosened his tie a while ago, unbuttoned the upper buttons of his shirt.
"Can't be much longer now, Liv." He tries to sound reassuring, and it's all bullshit.
"You said that two hours ago," she mutters, disillusioned. She's exhausted, hot and thirsty, and she doesn't even want to think about his battery dying on them any minute now. If they're lucky she's got fifty percent left on her phone, wondering for how long the flashlight is going to last them before they'll sit in total darkness. "I can't deal with this heat."
Elliot moves now, scooting closers, taking hold of her foot. He takes off her boot, then slips the sock off her foot, leaving her flabbergasted. "What are you doing?"
"It's gonna help with the heat," he says, head cocked. "That all right?" His eyes lock with hers, anchor her. It does feel good, she has to admit.
"Yeah. Okay," she nods, allowing him to go ahead. He's gentle with her, removing her other boot and sock. One hand settles on her heel, his thumb swiping against the thin patch of skin across her ankle. His touch lingers for a few seconds longer than necessary, making her wonder if it's intentional, or accidental. Olivia wets her lips, holds his eye.
What the hell is he doing, she wonders. Better yet, what the hell is she doing, enjoying it? They touch these days, and it's not always brief, but it's nothing like this. This feels more intimate. Feet, she decides, are much more personal than hands, and while she wouldn't let anyone else near them, this feels oddly comfortable.
"There you go." Elliot's voice is thicker than the air in this goddamn metal box-Olivia could cut it with a knife if she tried. He slowly puts her foot down, pulls away. The lost contact makes her want to wince.
"Thanks," she whispers, throat bone-dry, scratchy. He pushes the boots aside, towards the wall to her right, his left.
Instead of moving back against the wall he sat up against before, he shifts his body towards her, coming so close, their arms bump. His sudden proximity goes to her head, her cheeks and ears burning up. He's so close, she'd only need to drop her right hand to touch him.
Olivia's head rolls to the side, and when she finds Elliot looking at her affectionately, she offers a small smile. It's tempting her, that look on his face. She's longing to touch him, and the sudden realization makes it hard to breathe. Now that he's closer she can see the sweat clinging to his forehead, the shadow of a stubble that has grown out over the day. He's all soft, his nose prominent in the dimly lit space. The urge, of wanting to touch him is not unknown, but right now it's bordering on unbearable. Instead of giving in, refusing to let herself be driven by her need for contact, Olivia pushes one hand between her thighs, the other grabbing her blouse. It doesn't seem to go unnoticed by Elliot, because his gaze shifts momentarily, following her movement.
"What?" he asks, and her eyes fall shut. It rattles her, how well he still knows her, that he can still read her like a book, and she wonders if he's aware of how much she wants to touch him. Jesus, if it was humanly possible, she'd crawl into him. He, his body, they have always meant safety.
"Nothing," she shakes her head. When she opens her eyes, he's staring at the wall across from them, his brows scrunched up in deep thought. "Do you really think they're going to get us out of here soon?" The grasp on her blouse loosens, her fist slides down her chest, her stomach, heavily landing in her lap.
"I sure hope so," Elliot sighs, kicking off his shoes, too.
Pulling her knees up, Olivia loosely puts her arms across her knees, hands dangling slightly. "Noah and I usually have our movie night on Fridays. Pizza, popcorn, ice-cream." Her lashes flutter as she purses her lips. "I couldn't for the past couple of weeks, and promised him today nothing would come up. I was gonna be there."
She can hardly imagine Noah's disappointment. Of course this is completely beyond Olivia's control, but for him it will be just another movie night missed. Even worse, she has no means to explain to him that nor why she's not going to make it. Lucy probably tried to contact her countless times by now, and Liv wonders if she's gotten in touch with her emergency contacts yet. It's possible that Noah is with either Fin, or Amanda by now, who will undoubtedly be out of their minds with worry.
"I'm sorry, Liv. That sucks. But he's going to understand. Probably think it's cool his mom was stuck in an elevator." He grins, not at her though, his eyes still glued to the wall. "He's a sweet kid."
"Yeah, he really is," she smirks.
"Can I ask?"
"Ask what?"
"'bout his father?" It's almost a gut punch. Not that he asks, but that he has to ask, the fact he doesn't know, chose not to know the moment he disappeared and never got in touch.
"There's no father," her voice bounces dully off the walls. She's got Elliot's full attention now, his head turned, eyes on her. "He's adopted, Elliot."
She can literally see the realization sink in, pinpoint the moment it clicks for him. Up until this moment he's been fully convinced this child was conceived by her and some other man, possibly the man Fin mentioned to him. She's gonna spare him and not, most definitely not, bring up Tucker.
"That's… that's wonderful, Liv. I'm sorry, I thought…"
"We found him when we worked a missing children's case, and didn't even have him on the radar. I guess you could say he was collateral damage. He was an infant, just a couple of months old. Trafficked. Tiny." she says quietly. "Luckily unharmed."
Elliot listens intently, absorbing the words. Talking is more comfortable than the silence, and she feels candid today, offering him more.
"He was placed with emergency foster care that same day, and went through five different homes within the next six months. He was a perfectly healthy baby, and nobody wanted him," she scoffs. "Can you believe that?"
The hurt and incomprehension is still a scar on her heart. She didn't understand how family court allowed an infant to be shuffled back and forth among homes, how there could be no match. Olivia always believed placing a healthy baby must be easy. How many childless couples in New York are there, just waiting to adopt a little boy? But maybe the circumstances of his discovery scared potential adoptive parents off. Maybe they didn't believe the boy wasn't sexually abused, permanently scarred before he could even crawl, or utter 'dada'.
"You applied then?
Olivia hangs her head, shakes it softly.
"I went to all the hearings. He's not the first abandoned baby we've found but something about him-" she shrugs, her nose twitching with emotion. "Six months in, the judge calls me out in court, says that I seemed to be the only person taking an interest in the baby, and asks if I want, by any chance, be a foster parent to him."
Sometimes she can't quite believe how it all happened, so suddenly, so unexpectedly. This beautiful child was literally dropped in her lap, and she didn't have to do anything more than say yes. Of course there were the home visits, but the adoption itself was fast tracked by Judge Linden. After the agencies had deemed her "not prime parenting material," suddenly adopting Noah had been staggeringly simple.
"Just like that." Astonishment and amusement is what his words are made of, and through the tears the memory conjured up, she smiles at him.
"Just like that."
"How old was he exactly?" There's nothing left of Elliot's frown, instead there's pure joy and pride reflecting in his eyes, not even the dim lighting can conceal it. He's interested in her journey to motherhood, and while she's been wary to let him meet Noah until now, she gladly shares what he missed out on.
"Just shy of nine months," she beams.
"How was that for you?" He's engrossed in her story, his tone holding desperation for more. "What did I miss?"
Of course he slices right through her, she should've seen it coming. Their history is a goddamn minefield, basically. It's impossible not to step on an explosive device. She wonders if they should lay in ashes, or if they should rise from them, march on, side by side, in sync.
All she ever wanted was for him to be around, by her side, to see her milestones, to celebrate them with her. He asks her what he missed, and the answer is as simple as it is devastating. Everything.
The atmosphere shifts from relaxed to awkward. He's probably aware of the answer that encompasses her truth, her hurt, the resentment that resides under her skin, sometimes.
"I'm sorry, that came out wrong."
"No, it's-" Olivia sighs, worrying her bottom lip as she glances at him. "It was gonna come up eventually. I'll just have to deal with it."
She blows out a breath, wiggling her toes briefly. She's not going to make this situation even harder by letting the awkwardness manifest, so she decides to answer him instead. The only way ahead is through, and maybe they'll come out stronger on the other side of this experience.
She talks about Noah, covering everything from when she first took him home, to
now, and Elliot listens, nods and laughs with her. There's an ease between them that hasn't been there in a very long time, and Elliot revels in what Olivia offers, absorbs every word like a sponge soaks up water. She talks and he listens until his phone dies, the light going out, leaving them in total darkness.
"My phone," mutters Olivia. "Where's my-"
She finds it in her back pocket of her pants, a little too fidgety, a little too nervous. It's too sudden, too hot, too dark, the air too still, too much like-oh, that goddamn trunk. If it's possible her hands get more clammy than they already were. She breaks out in a sweat, clutching her left hand to her face, rubbing it across her damp skin. Her thumb tries to locate the button to switch the iPhone on, but it slips from Olivia's grasp, hitting the floor with a clattering sound.
"Fuck, goddamn it," she hisses, her hands groping at the floor, desperately looking for the device. She's roaming, getting frantic when she doesn't find it immediately. Why, oh why, does this happen now, with Elliot around? Soon enough she'll be stripped of every last bit of self-control, anxiety taking over.
This can't be happening, and yet it's coming. Right here. Right now.
In her chest her heart pounds like a jackhammer, hard, loud and escalating. Her face twists as she fights it.
"Liv, it's okay. Easy," Elliot tells her, but his words aren't helping.
Olivia can feel her face start to tingle, her hands, her lips, and Jesus, she's not going to be able to avoid this, because here comes the telltale sign of a full blown panic attack: she can't fucking breathe.
"Don't tell me it's okay," she snaps, gasping for air. "Where's… my… where's… I need my phone." It's a demand and a plea, alike.
"Liv, listen to me. You need to calm down for me, okay? Can you take a breath for me?"
Elliot's voice is a monotone drone, washed out by the blood whooshing in her ears, the heat in her face, the lack of oxygen in her lungs. She stops frantically sweeping of the floor, hands spread out against the tiles, her torso bent forward as she's trying to suck in air.
"I… can't…" Do this. She can't do this. It's entirely too hot in here, she feels boxed in, can't breathe, can't grasp a rational thought. She's slipping away, trying to hold on to something, so she claws at the floor, desperately.
"Olivia," Elliot's voice cuts through the haze, a little louder, yet collected. "You're having a panic attack, and I need you to listen to me, now. I'm going to look for your phone. I might touch you, and I don't want to startle you. Okay?"
She's trembling, sweating, and her attempts at taking measured breaths are failing. Instead she's panting, trying to absorb the information Elliot is giving her.
"Can I touch you, Liv? Can you tell me yes, or no?" His tone is soft and soothing, anchoring her a little more.
"Okay," she manages.
"Okay," he repeats. "This is gonna pass, Liv. I promise. Can you just focus on my voice? Do you think you can do that?" She can hear and feel him move around, his flat hand bumping against her butt, sliding underneath the bridge her bent legs create.
She nods, although she's aware the dark conceals it, so instead she hums her agreement.
"Good. That's good Liv." it feels like an eternity of him scanning the floor, talking to her evenly, softly, before he announces: "I got you take a deep breath for me? Deep breath in… and out."
His left hand touches hers as he slips back into his spot next to her, and she grabs it without thinking. Wrapping his fingers around hers, he squeezes, and her eyes slip close at the reassuring gesture.
"You okay?" His voice is honey, sweet and thick, and just as soothing as his touch.
"I-," she swallows, exhales. "I've been better," drifts out breathlessly.
The familiar white apple logo appears on a black background until Olivia's lock screen shows up, a picture of a grinning Noah, eyes a bright, twinkling blue. It instantly alleviates some of her anxiety, allowing her lungs to expand as she draws in the next breath.
"What's your PIN?"
She exhales shakily, squeezing her eyes shut. "0207." Her birthday.
"And your passcode?"
Another wave of heat overcomes her, but for an entirely different reason. She focuses on taking a few conscious breaths, resting her head against the cool metal wall. This is going to be uncomfortable, but she can't keep on sitting in the dark without losing her goddamn mind to a hailstorm of flashbacks, and by God, she's going to have them, so she'd rather live with the embarrassment. Two options, and no good choice.
"Liv, your passcode," Elliot prods, his thumb swiping across the back of her hand.
"063130," she breathes the digits out in quick succession, pinching her nose.
"My badge number."