A/N: Thank you so much for your kind words and feedback. I truly appreciate it! This will have one more chapter after this. Thank you for reading!
Finally, in the comfort of her own home, Olivia settles on the couch next to Noah. He's watching cartoons, paying little attention to her. She wraps an arm protectively around him, resting her head against his. It's calming just to feel his presence.
"You look sad." He comments, though his eyes stay focused on the TV.
"I'm—" fine, she wants to say; shield her son from any negativity. Olivia wants to be strong for him—protect him—but she's conflicted. Noah needs to know that it's okay to have feelings, good or bad. That it's a sign of strength to show vulnerability.
"I guess I am, a little bit." She admits, pulling him closer.
"Why?" He asks, glancing up at her.
"It's…" she searches. "Grown up stuff."
Noah groans, clearly unsatisfied with her answer. Olivia remembers that he's not a baby anymore. Still a child, of course, but she doesn't want him to feel like she's hiding things.
"I got into an argument with a good friend today." She smoothes his curls. "You remember Elliot?"
"He was there when we built our snowman."
"Yeah, he was." She recalls the tension between them that day, too. There has been a lot—too much—tension between them.
"What did he do?"
"Well, he found out some secrets." Olivia sighs, knowing full well that she can't tell Noah that part of the story.
"What kind of secrets?" He's intrigued now.
"That's not important." She doesn't humor his curiosity. "What's important is that I wanted to be the one to share them, because they're my secrets to tell."
"So, he ruined your surprise." Noah states this as fact.
Olivia shrugs. "That's one way of putting it, sure."
"Do you think he'll say sorry?"
"I think so." She smiles, touched by his concern. "He already has, a couple times."
"But you didn't forgive him." He looks up at her, perplexed.
"Not yet, no." She explains. "He hurt my feelings, Noah. I need some time to…deal with that…before I can forgive him."
"But you will."
"Of course, I will." Olivia's response is automatic which actually surprises her. Prior to this moment she wasn't entirely sure how she felt, but somehow this simple conversation with her son is providing clarity. "I realize you barely know him, but Elliot was a very important part of my life when I was younger."
"What, like…your boyfriend?" Noah's eyes widen. He's clearly horrified by the thought.
"No." She laughs, playfully pushing him away. "And hey, none of your business." She tussles his hair.
"Gross." He mumbles.
"Okay, enough." She rolls her eyes, though still smiling. "It's clearly past your bedtime."
Once Noah is asleep, Olivia settles back on the couch with a glass of water. While she'd prefer wine, what she needs is to rehydrate. She starts to nod off when her phone buzzes. Sleepily, she reaches for it, relieved when Stabler flashes across the screen because at least it's not a new case.
She ignores his call, but no less than five minutes later he calls again. Fucking stubborn, she thinks, echoing her earlier sentiments as she flips over the phone. He calls a few more times, and she debates answering but ultimately decides against it.
Eventually her phone stops buzzing, but then she hears a faint knock. Olivia groans, shuffling over to the peephole.
"Really, Elliot." She swings open the door.
"You weren't answering my calls."
"No, I wasn't." She's leaning up against the door frame, arms crossed defensively.
"Yeah, well. I didn't know where you went—got worried."
Elliot tries to act nonchalant, like he hasn't spent the past few hours agonizing over his decision to see her. Like he doesn't notice her eyes: puffy, red and glassy because she's obviously been crying. Because of me, he thinks. This is my fault.
"Bit rich, coming from you." Olivia bites.
"The hell does that mean?" His eyes narrow.
"It means," She reacts, her fingers raking through her hair. "You left. For ten years—"
She hasn't brought up his absence much lately. Not because she isn't thinking about it. She is—quite often, actually—wondering if she'll always hold a grudge; if she'll ever stop wondering what if he'd stayed? But she keeps it to herself because he can't handle it and she doesn't want to push. Now, though? She's too tired and hurt to be considerate: all bets are off.
"—so, if I want to disappear for a night I'd say I've earned that." She keeps her voice low, trying to be considerate of her neighbors.
"You're mad. I get it."
"No, you don't." She's exasperated, unsure how to get through to him. "Or you wouldn't be here
expecting…what, exactly?" She sneers, "What do you want."
"What do I—" He's a getting riled up now, too. "Christ, Liv, I don't want anything."
"Then why are you here." She demands.
"I don't know." He admits, running his palm across his face. "I don't fucking know."
Elliot knows Olivia is angry, but he's angry too. Not at her, necessarily, just in general. It takes very little to set him off.
"Bullshit." She snarls, seeing the fire in his eyes.
"This was a mistake." Elliot whispers, turning away and pacing down the hall. If she keeps pressing him he worries he may say something—well, something else—he regrets.
"Try not to punch a hole in the wall." She keeps her tone casual which, of course, only further infuriates him. "My landlord just redid the wallpaper."
"Stop it right fucking now, Liv." He cautions, his face reddening as he approaches her. He hates that she knows all the right buttons to push. If it were anyone else he'd have them pinned against the wall by now.
"Or what." She challenges, not at all intimidated by his temper.
The silence hangs between them, Elliot's ragged breath the only audible sound.
"What do you want me to say." He finally speaks, though voice comes out far more broken than he intended.
"The truth."
"I just—God, I just needed to see you. Needed to see if you were okay—"
"I'm not." She chides, not entirely sure where this bitterness is coming from. It's probably because she's so damn tired and doesn't know what to make of all of this.
"—needed to see how much you hate me." He continues, admitting the truth she had been seeking. He's not proud—quite the opposite—but it's his honest answer.
She blinks, surprised by his admission. Hate? That word has never been in her vocabulary when it comes to their relationship. She can think of an entire shopping list of other words she's felt over the past ten years, but never hate.
"Come in." She sighs, widening the door. He hesitates, but she encourages him by stepping in first. "Just," she places her finger over her lip, shushing him. "Noah's asleep, so—"
Elliot nods, taking off his coat and tossing it over a chair. He eyes the couch, but paces; unsure
where to put himself.
"Sit." She leaves space for him on the couch. "I can't talk to you while you're pacing. Makes me nervous."
He obliges, keeping as much distance as possible on her small sofa.
"I don't hate you." Olivia pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. "El, I could never." She softens, lowering her gaze to search for his eyes. "Believe me, I've tried." She half-smiles, but the hurt is evident.
"Thank you for saying that." Elliot clears his throat. Tears sting but forces them down, knowing she'll comfort him if he gives her the chance. That's just who she is, and he doesn't want it—doesn't deserve it. "It means—" the world to me. "—a lot."
"I'm mad at you." She shrugs. "And I don't know…I don't know if it's because you read my file or because you didn't think to talk to me first. I—God, I wish you would have talked to me first so I could have," She shakes her head. "I don't know. Prepared?"
"I understand." He hangs his head.
"But you can't go around thinking I hate you, okay?" They lock eyes. "Promise me you won't."
"I won't." He keeps his response short and to the point; afraid of saying too much. "I won't." He affirms, sensing her doubt.
"Good." She gives that same half-smile again. "I'm so tired, Elliot." She rests her head in her hands.
"Me too." He almost reaches out to touch her, but thinks better of it.
"Did you honestly think that we would talk about this tonight? With my kid sleeping ten feet away?"
"It was selfish, Liv. I don't know what I thought."
"Look, I know we need to talk about it. I would prefer…not to, but I know." she trails. "I know we do." She lifts her head. "But I can't right now." Her eyes plead, hoping not to repeat their earlier antics. "I can't and I need you to respect that."
"Hey," He does reach for her now, his palm tentatively rests on her shoulder. She doesn't flinch, she he adds a bit of pressure. "I respect the hell out of you. I know I've been," he gestures vaguely. "Not right. But you gotta know I respect you more than anyone else on this entire fucking planet." He asserts, wanting to be sure she hears him—really hears him. "I shouldn't have come. Don't really know why I did, but we don't ever have to talk about it if you don't want to." He slowly rises from the couch, reaching for his coat. "I mean that." He turns back to her before reaching the door.
"Elliot, wait." She calls after him, mindful to keep her voice down. "Noah…" She glances toward his room. "He has a birthday party Sunday afternoon." She sees his eyes light up, even if just for a split-second. "I'll have a couple hours free if you want to —"
"I do." He interrupts; afraid she'll change her mind.
"Okay." She agrees. "We'll talk then?" She notices the guilt creeping into his features. "I want to." She doesn't, but it's necessary if they're ever going to move past this.
"You sure?" He asks, his tone as gentle as he's capable.
"I'm sure."
"Okay." A sad smile forming on his lips.
"But for now, you'll go home?" She questions, a hint of concern in her tone. "You're not gonna, I don't know, sleep outside my door or do something weird and illegal? Make me arrest you?" She teases, a small grin appearing.
"Nah, not tonight." Elliot smiles too, relieved to hear her joking in any capacity. "I'll go home." He turns from her and heads down the hallway. "Night, Liv. I'll see you Sunday."
"Sunday." She nods.