A/N: This is part 1 of a probably 4 part fic. This fic takes place a month after Return of the Prodigal Son & What Happens in Puglia. There is violence in this story but not against either main character. It takes certain creative leaps because we have yet to see the episode, and was inspired by the route that I wanted OC to take, but I knew they wouldn't, if that makes sense. Enjoy and please let me know if you would like part 2!
There's a marked change in his demeanor.
She's not sure what she expected of him. In all honesty, she never thought the events of the past month would ever happen. Parts of it contain her worst nightmares, and other parts embody hopes she's held onto for a decade.
He came home. For the better part of a decade, he was all over Europe, mostly in Italy. He's told her pieces of their time apart over the dozens of times they've met since his return. Catching up never seemed to be the only reason for their interactions - mostly it was passing on information, unsettled arguments on rooftops, and that glimmer in his eyes that has only grown since the bombing.
She wasn't overly excited about the event that night. There had been an uneasy feeling in her stomach that grew the closer and closer she got to the ceremony. When she arrived, she couldn't help the breathlessness she experienced. She needed just a minute before going in, and she took it while her forehead was resting on the steering wheel of her SUV.
Ignoring her gut feeling, she soldiered on.
The next few hours were filled with the scent of gas, smoke, and the unmistakable hint of burned flesh.
She tries not to think about it. Her throat closes knowing what Elliot lost that night. Even if Kathy had survived the bombing, his entire life had irrevocably changed. The effects of their job had touched his personal life before but never to this degree. It wasn't fair, she thinks. He had just returned only for his life to be torn to shreds by some gang members with a vendetta.
Olivia periodically looks up from where she is leaned against a nearby tree to see Noah sledding. Over and over the young boy climbs the small hill with enthusiasm and endless energy, a wide smile gracing his features every time he lays down on the sled and begins his descent again.
The leaves in Gantry Plaza State Park have fallen and disappeared – replaced with a thick layer of snow and moisture. It's cold enough that the snow isn't threatening to melt, though it soaks her boots and she curses herself for not wearing something more weatherproof on her feet. It's easy for her nowadays to get caught up in motherhood, in the patterns and routines that parenting so easily creates.
Olivia catches herself falling into them sometimes and reminds herself of who she is and the power she yields. There can be deadly consequences if she lets her guard down as she has in the past. Switching routines, changing stores, never taking the same way home twice – it's all a way to protect herself and Noah.
And now Elliot as well.
She feels Elliot's presence before she sees him. He's coming from the north side of the park, but the man she knew ten years ago would've taken his time getting to her side. Today he walks in a straight line to meet her and she's grateful for the lack of opportunity for her nerves to rise up.
His eyes are dark and haunted when he looks at her. There is ten years of distance between them. Slowly the gap will close, she knows this. She feels closer to him every day. The new lines on his face and subtle lowering of his voice are changes she sees, though they pale in comparison to the things that both of them have lived through since they were partners.
She's spent a decade missing the hell out of him, and he's told her that he never stopped missing her.
We're best friends.
"Hey," she greets him, like a stranger or an old lover. It's a strained sort of thing - just another thought that she tells herself not to entertain. Too much lies in their midst for them to screw this up by being too afraid to give things a chance and let the cards fall where they may.
There's a ghost of a smile on his mouth. It's the quickest upturning of his lips, almost as if he's amused by the way she's bundled up against the cold. Then it's gone, and he's beside her looking out into the open field filled with children and parents alike.
"That's him, right?" Elliot gestures, pointing in Noah's direction. "Blue jacket and beanie?"
She nods. Perhaps she will introduce Elliot today if she can swallow the thickness in her throat. The young boy shakes the snow that's gathered on his jacket from his last trip down the small hill. He smiles over at them and dives into his sled yet again, and his soft laughter filters over to where they stand together.
Olivia lets herself think of the night they argued on the roof. How every light in the city seemed to be bouncing off of the random pools of water on the ground, how both of them fought off hot, angry tears that came and went anyways.
After a beat, she shakes off the emotion and hands him the plain blue bag in her hand. "This is what I was able to gather," she says lowly. "He's the last piece of the puzzle." She's careful not to say his name out loud – they can never be too cautious after everything that has happened.
Elliot looks quickly into the contents of the bag. There's only a burner phone and a folder with some key information on it, but she hopes it contains salvation for him. He may never forget the things he's lost, though this could be the start of his healing.
When he's finished reviewing the sparse articles in the bag, she's surprised that his eyes are even darker than before. She can see the wheels in his mind turning as if he's formulating some sort of plan. Elliot's forms of retribution or revenge have always been swift, rough – wicked.
"Thank you."
Her eyes catch his again, and she nearly forgot how much of a rush he gives her when his gaze lands on her mouth. It's wrong and all sorts of fucked up, but she craves the danger he brings between them. The adrenaline that seeps into her veins makes her a little short on breath.
"Elliot," she grates. "When you get him…" she catches herself, trying to restart a sentence she's scared to say out loud. "Is he making it back to the precinct?"
It's the stillness in his body that tells her the answer she already knows deep down.
He's lost too much to be reckless when it comes to this. He'll plan it out, execute it to perfection like she knows he can. There's no question in her mind of what is coming next. The way they used to be, the way he used to be, he would try to save her from the tailspin of his actions. Somehow, she can see in the unflinching hold his gaze has that they're beyond that. It's gone too far for too long.
"No."
No.
Would you like a Part 2? Let me know!