Noon.
He ordered a cup of coffee for himself, despite the fact that he wouldn't be able to stomach it; American coffee was no longer appealing to him. He'd decided to show early - it wasn't like he had anywhere to be. It was Saturday, and he had the apartment to himself. It'd be better to get out and contribute something to society, even if it meant drinking half of a cup of coffee.
They hadn't seen each other since the evening spent together. He needed time to process; to understand how he could even begin to forgive himself. The jukebox rang out with a song he remembered, though not by choice. Must've been one of the kids, he thought.
Back to the street where we began
He looked out the window, brows furrowed whilst focusing on the people passing by. At one point, they were roaming the streets together - cleaning up Manhattan the best that they could. Their first real case together was one she took hard. She puked outside directly after questioning the victim's wife.
Into a place, where thoughts can bloom
Into a room where it's nine in the afternoon
The looks they exchange across the desks; so many gazes that spoke the depth of their emotions. Sympathy, anger, love, confusion, distress. Secrets silently shared, never uttered. She was the rollercoaster of emotions, the ride he never wanted to get off. (No pun intended u horny fucks). They had many nine in the afternoon days. Cases bled into the mornings, he spent more time at work than at home. He couldn't stay away.
And you know that you feel it too
They both confessed over the years. Their secret language was all they knew. He'd nearly died a few times during their partnership. She held him together. Although her encounters weren't as serious, it shared the shit out of him. Each time he thought he'd lost her, it provoked a fear that he'd never experienced before. He couldn't do it without her.
Your eyes are the size of the moon
Big, brown eyes. A woman with ambitions, a heart too big for her own good. She had a passion for justice; one that carried her up the ranks after his departure.
Back to the room where it all began
The origin of it all. I'm your partner, for better or worse. He meant it - if only she knew just how much he meant it. Twenty years ago she was the most remarkable woman he'd ever met.
Elliot believed in her, even when she couldn't find it in herself. They had each other's backs - through thick and thin, they were each other's rocks. Until they weren't. He left. Given an ultimatum, he had no choice. He couldn't risk his kids; he had vowed to be a better father than his ever was, to anchor them with the stability his mother couldn't.
The bitter caffeine kept him grounded. He smacked his lips in distaste, giving his watch a glance before clasping his hands together on the table in front of him.
—
Her.
She strode through the door with confidence that radiated pure sexiness. How she was the same emotional detective he met 20 years was no surprise to him, he always knew she would be this.
"Hey." He rose to greet her, motioning to the empty side of the booth he'd claimed.
"Elliot, I'm sorry I'm late. I got held up at work."
The boyish grin that played on his lips spoke for him. "No need to explain, Captain." He knew that it would lighten the mood.
"How are you?" She noted that the bags under his eyes weren't as prominent. He looked refreshed, for the most part. There was something off - something she couldn't pinpoint. It'll have to wait.
"I'm good. Coffee sucks, though."
"Yet this is where you bought coffee for me a few months ago."
"Uh…" His hand went to the nape of his neck, rubbing it while looking to the side.
"You don't drink coffee anymore, do you?" She paused. "You drank tea at my house."
"You should consider working in law enforcement." He wet his lips, looking at hers and then back to her eyes. "You'd make a great detective."
"I'll consider it."
Olivia's lips pursed. He was avoiding something; she knew him all too well. Ten years apart, and he still had the same tells. She smiled warmly, almost adoringly, at him. The background noise drowned out; it was just them again. Back in the precinct, young and naïve. "Talk to me." Her hand covered his, both smiled and looked down. The small touch sent a jolt of electricity through his body.
"It's okay." She gave his hand a squeeze, his eyes lowered as he breathed out - hand going to the side of his head. By now, she must've known that it was one of his ticks. He found comfort in his hand pressed against his temple; it was a barrier, with it there his thoughts wouldn't pour out.
"I've been working a case…" He began.
With a brow raised, she responded. "Kathy's case."
"Richard Wheatley. I think…"
Her free hand joined the other, now holding both of his hands. "What is it, Elliot?"
"I think he's responsible for Simon's death, too. There's too much here for it to be a coincidence, Liv."
She froze. Mouth slightly agape, a mixture of emotions washed over her. Even in death, Simon had found a way to surprise her. His passing never sat well with her; if there was a chance to find justice for her brother, now was the chance.
Olivia listened to his words intently, absorbing all of the information and possible links. She agreed - the parallels couldn't be denied. "I'm in." She said before he'd finished.
"Takes me back to when you first found him…" His words trailed off, almost in a daze while thinking of before. "Back then, it was only us."
"Yeah…" A sheepish smile matched the tone of her voice; she was taken back to where they were two decades ago. Young, in love. Neither would admit, nor deny. Too close. Emotional dependency.
"Look, I don't…"
His mouth went dry, palms sweaty. He pulled his hands away and wiped them on his jeans. "When I was in the evidence locker, I stumbled across….." Her hand reached across, heart in her throat, she held it up to signal to him. "I.."
Their eyes locked. He swallowed repeatedly, refusing to let the tears spill from his eyes. Her expression mirrored his. "I should've been there, Liv." His jaw tensed. Misty eyes, chest pounding. "I'm so fucking sorry." The conversation was inevitable, she knew that. She hadn't expected it to happen so soon, but it was in the open now. He knew.
Her eyes closed tightly; an attempt to fight off the emotions rising. "That's how you knew." He continued, "That's how you knew about my PTSD."
She nodded.
Her mouth opened, no words came out. Flashes of Lewis went through her mind - black and white stills of the torture. She needed Elliot. "I never thought I'd see you again." She laughed dryly. "He knew it, too."
"Thinking about someone you're never gonna see again?" Her eyes opened, rimmed with redness. "Someone who you would give anything to see just one more time." A single tear fell down her cheek, she quickly wiped it. "You're gonna cry his name out at some point. They always do." Her head was in her hands, applying pressure to her forehead. "That son of a bitch knew."
He didn't know what to say. She'd memorized what Lewis had taunted her with. He wanted to hold her, to let her know that it'd all be okay - she knew that. It's been years, he was reminded.
"You." She made sure that he was looking, "You were the reason I survived." More tears were shed, she found herself smiling through it. "You weren't physically there, but I felt you, El." Something took over her as she recited what she'd told him. "My old partner he'd know what to do. He wouldn't question himself after what you've done. He would kick your teeth in, break your legs, break your arms, break your back, break your face."
Elliot couldn't take it. He slid out of the booth and moved to hers, wrapping his arms around her in a strong embrace. "Strong doesn't begin to describe what you are - what you always have been." He kissed the top of her head, silently crying to himself. His jaw tensed as the tears ran down his face; his grip didn't loosen. She held him back, clinging to him as if he were her lifeline.
"I.. should've been here." His tone changed, stuffy from the regrets that rolled down his cheeks. Cheek rested atop her head, his eyes closed. "I meant what I said."
"Don't. It's okay." It wasn't really okay, but with time it had become okay. She accepted that it was part of her journey, part of her growth. As fucked as it was, she wouldn't have channeled that inner strength with him. "You were right. I did rely on you to look after me, but now…" She pulled back, their red eyes met. "I have my own back."
"And that's one of the reasons why I love you." He put emphasis on it; she needed to know that it wasn't just a fluke, he felt for her. Deeply, an unmoving force that drew him to her. He needed her, her love. Her all. Her.
—
This was a difficult one to write. I've always felt like their conversation won't be as emotional as others have envisioned, though I did add a bit of fluff given how emotionally raw Elliot is now. Hoping I did it justice!
Feedback/criticism is greatly appreciated!
Twitter: dunduneo