A/N: Originally planned as one long chapter, now being split into two (this is part one of two) because I want to do the Elliot/Noah dynamic justice. Also, am I a monster for consistently triggering Olivia? Ugh I am, but I'm *such* a sucker for sweet Elliot I can't help it. I hope you enjoy!
TW: Mentions of past abuse, slightly more graphic than previous chapters.
Since their talk, things have been good between El and Liv—really good. It was painful to dredge up the past and awaken memories she'd rather keep dormant, but afterwards Olivia was flooded with relief. It feels like a weight has been lifted and a hurdle in their relationship overcome. As for Elliot, he's handling it okay, all things considered. He gets angry sometimes and lashes out when his guilt becomes too unbearable, but they're working through it. Therapy helps, and though not perfect, their communication is strong.
Their sex life, too, has gone from zero to sixty. That first time reignited Olivia's libido, and Elliot wonders if he's ever felt so attracted to another person. He suffers guilt over these thoughts because he loved Kathy. Of course, he did. She was the mother of his children, and he stayed faithful to her even when tempted to stray. He wasn't faultless, by any means, but he loved her—still loves her. A part of him always will, but it's different with Olivia. With her, there's the familiarity and comfort of a deep friendship but also the excitement and anticipation of discovering her for the first time. What he feels for her is so uniquely its own.
Elliot's making dinner tonight for her and Noah: meatballs and spaghetti using a sauce recipe that he claims to have learned in Italy. Olivia is leery of his cooking abilities, but honestly her kitchen appliances could use the exercise, so she humors him.
"You know," she calls from the living room where she's watching TV with Noah. "We've tried Carisi's family recipe. You've got a lot to live up to."
Olivia only recently warmed to the idea of Elliot spending more time with her son. She's been guarded; shielding Noah in case their relationship fails or he jumps ship. An outsider may view her as an overprotective parent, but it runs so much deeper than that. Noah is the center of her universe, occupying a space once reserved only for Elliot. She doesn't want him, for any reason, to feel like she did ten years ago: abandoned and discarded.
"Oh, please." He waves dismissively. "Guarantee mine's better."
"He's..." Noah wrinkles his brow, searching for the appropriate word.
"Overconfident?" She smirks, filling in the blank. "Yes, very."
"I can hear you, over there." Elliot mutters, draping a dish towel over his shoulder. "Apartment's not that big."
"Well," Olivia approaches him. "It certainly smells good. I'll give you that."
"You'll love it." He grins. "Trust me."
"You've never mentioned," she snakes her arms around his front, circling his waist and resting her cheek on his bicep. "That you're such a chef."
"You never asked." He quips. "Still a lot to learn about me." He keeps his tone playful but it's laced with desire. Elliot adores Noah and appreciates the opportunity to spend more time with him, but he also can't wait for the kid to go to bed. He wants Olivia in the worst way; would take her right now, against the kitchen counter, if he could. The thought makes him flush, so he blinks it away and tries focusing on dinner instead.
"Yeah, I'm figuring that out." Olivia presses her lips against his shoulder blade before moving to his side.
She peers over the simmering pot to get a whiff of this famous sauce he keeps bragging about. It looks fairly ordinary, she thinks, but doesn't say a word. She leans in further, not realizing quite how hot it is until it splashes up and a drop hits her square in the chest. She's startled by the burning sensation on her skin and jerks away, smothering the boiling liquid with the fabric of her t-shirt.
"Come on, you just said it smells good." Elliot teases, blissfully unaware.
Olivia backs against the fridge for support, but her knees feel weak and her chest burns inside and out. She attempts to center herself with a long exhale, but when she blinks she sees him: William Lewis. She's suddenly tied to that chair again. Struggling to breathe because of the duct tape sealed tightly over her lips. Unable to scream when he presses lit cigarettes against her flesh over and over again.
Elliot turns and she's clutching the neckline of her shirt, her knuckles white from the strong hold. "Hey." His gaze narrows as he delicately approaches her. "Liv," he says, but she's staring straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular. "Look at me?" He makes a feeble attempt to focus her eyes. "I need you to look at me." He reiterates but keeps his voice low, careful not to alarm Noah. He lightly brushes his thumb over her wrist and her eyes dart, then settle on his. She blinks rapidly and her lips part as she inhales sharply.
"Mom?" Her gasp catches Noah's attention.
"I'm okay." The childlike voice wrenches her out of the past and grounds her back in reality. "I'm fine, baby." She assures her son.
"Liv."
"I'm okay." She echoes, holding up a hand in protest.
His forehead creases. "Like hell." He smooths two fingers over her forearm, disappointed when she tenses under his touch.
"I'm—just leave it alone, El." Her tone is warning.
"Will you at least sit down?" Elliot implores, giving her some space.
She placates him by settling next to Noah on the sofa, pulling the boy tight against her chest and resting her head on his curls. Elliot keeps one eye on the stove and the other on Olivia, unsure what's upsetting her. She seems defeated and anxious and he doesn't understand why. He knows her triggers, so he would know if something set her off, wouldn't he?
"Are you okay?" Noah asks, keeping his eyes focused on the television.
"Yeah, why do you ask?"
"I don't know." He shrugs against her. "Your heart's beating super fast."
"Oh, I—" She stumbles over her words, struck with the realization that he's laying across her chest so, of course, he can feel her rapid heartbeat. "You know what?" Olivia shifts, moving off the couch and forcing a small smile. "Just give me five minutes, okay?"
"Oh...kay?" Noah cocks his brow but seems fairly unbothered.
She relocates to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Once she's hidden from Elliot and Noah's prying eyes, she pulls at the neckline of her top and studies her reflection. There's a small red welt on her chest and it's so embarrassing, she thinks, to be on the brink of a panic attack because of marinara. Of all things. To be a police captain losing it over a tiny splatter of sauce. Triggers are triggers, Lindstrom would tell her if he was with her now, somehow transported into her bathroom. Even if they appear small or insignificant, the memories they bring to light are anything but.
The burn isn't terrible and should fade in a couple of days. Still, it stings. It's also too damn close to her scars—to her actual burns. Olivia struggles to find her breath and presses her palms flat against the vanity to steady herself. The room seems impossibly small, like there isn't enough oxygen. She's getting dizzy but keeps her eyes open, willing herself to stay present and aware.
She turns on the tap in hopes that the sensation of cold water on her wrists will soothe her. It's a valiant effort and it does feel nice, but that's all it does. She can't focus because her mind keeps slipping between past and present. Between what was and what is. She has little awareness of how long she stands there, listening only to the sound of running water until there's a click of the door and Elliot in her peripheral vision.
"Jesus, Elliot." She snaps. "Fucking knock first." Her eyes bore into his, but he's unfazed and seemingly unwilling to move. "At least close the door, God." She turns off the faucet and dries her hands.
"What's going on with you?" He keeps his tone steady. "Talk to me."
"Nothing, I just," she sighs, exasperated. "Where's Noah?" It's desperate, the way she says it. "He can't—I don't want him seeing me like this." Despite her frenzied state and spiraling thoughts her biggest concern is him. Protecting her son is—since the day they found each other—her top priority.
"He's okay, Liv. Watching some obnoxious reality show."
"So You Think You Can Dance." She counters. "He loves that one." She massages her temples, allowing her eyes to close for a brief moment.
"Well, whatever it is." He shrugs. "He's into it, so he won't—I mean, he doesn't have to see you, okay?" Elliot assures her, tentatively wrapping an arm around her unsteady frame and leading her to sit on the edge of the tub.
"He can't." She repeats, clutching her shirt and balling her fist around the thin fabric. "I won't let him, he—"
"Olivia," He interrupts. "Noah's fine. It's just me and you." He softens, reaching for her hand. "Talk to me."
"I—" She starts, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.
"Mom?" They hear a small voice outside the door and Olivia buries her face in her palms.
"Fucking hell, Elliot." She whispers.
"Okay...okay." He speaks slowly, tracing circles on her back to offset her escalating agitation. "Just breathe."
"I can't—" She lowers her voice. "I can't just breathe. My son," she motions toward the door. "Is five feet away."
"Mom?" Noah repeats, knocking. At least he knocks, Olivia muses.
"One minute." She calls out to him and keeps her voice even, but her breath is becoming harder and harder to find. "El, I can't do this." She chokes back a sob because suddenly it's all too much and she's afraid she might break. "I can't."
"I know, it's okay. You don't have to." He soothes. "You don't have to do anything." He presses his forehead against hers. "I'll take care of it—of Noah—but I need to...Liv, can I leave you alone for a few minutes?"
"You left me for ten years." She scoffs. Her words are stemming from anxiety but she knows they hurt; she can tell by the way he stiffens when he hears them. "I'm sorry." She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to stop her tears with sheer will. "I'm sorry, El."
"It's alright." He's hurt but isn't looking to pick a fight. "I probably deserve that."
"I'm—you can go." She shakes her head. "I just need...I need a minute to—" Olivia exhales. "I'll be fine."
"Okay." Elliot kisses the top of her head, lingering there for a few seconds.
He understands that the best thing—the only thing—he can do for her is distract Noah while she finds her bearings. Still, he hates the idea of leaving her like this, when she's so vulnerable and sad and he doesn't know why. He wonders how many times she's been in this position over the last ten years. How many times he could have been her rock if only he'd stayed in New York. He doesn't want to leave, but her fear is so palpable, so painfully obvious, that he sees no alternative. She isn't necessarily afraid of Noah witnessing her pain, it's more that she has no explanation for it. Coming up with a 'why', he thinks, is the scary part.
"I love you." He lets out a deep sigh, gives her hand a gentle squeeze, and walks out the door.