Prompt #46: Olivia and Elliot go to Noah's Christmas play

Best Winter Holiday Extravaganza Ever

~oOo~

You have been invited to
the 2021 Wharton Primary School's
All-Inclusive Winter Holiday Extravaganza
Friday, December 17, 2021, 7 pm

Snacks will be provided.

The flier from Noah's school has been tacked to Olivia's fridge for weeks, ever since his teacher sent it home. In the corner, his teacher had written Noah Benson – gingerbread man. And now, it's only a few days away.

Last year, she'd had to miss Noah's performance as one of Santa's elves, because h/er case ran long, and she didn't get home until well after ten that evening, by which time her little elf was tucked safely in his bed, still wearing his jaunty green and red elf hat. She'd had to get a digital copy of it emailed to her by the teacher, and despite the fact that she knows the teachers and faculty all understand, and Noah definitely does, she's made a promise to herself that she'll be there this year, no matter what.

Noah deserves to be able to look into the audience and see someone besides Lucy that's there for him.

She smiles, looking at the brown mittens and sweatshirt she's bought for him, and the fabric paint to go with it. She might not be able to do a lot for her boy, not as much as she wants, but she's going to pull out every last creative bone in her body to decorate his costume for him.

That way, even if heaven forbid she's not there, a part of her will be on stage with him. And it's the parents' responsibility, after all, to make sure the kids have their costumes.

She turns on a Christmas playlist and hums merrily along with "Jingle Bell Rock," as she sets out the paints on the table and pours herself a glass of red wine, before settling down to begin the task of decorating.

It should be simple, but it's not; the paint doesn't seem to want to come out of its tubes, and it's a little spottier and more erratic than she originally envisioned. But she pushes on through, and eventually, though the red and green buttons are a little askew and the white puffy loops are a little less loopy than intended, she has them drying.

Her phone rings, and she sees Elliot's name on her screen. A smile creeps across her face; she's still getting the hang of this friends, for now business that they have going on, but the little impromptu Christmas get-together they'd had with his family the weekend before had gone well, and she's not unsurprised to hear from him now. "Hey there," she says.

"Hey." She can hear his pleasant rumble over the phone, and she realizes how much she's missed this. But they're in a different place now than they were even before he left, because it's more casual. Before, if she'd seen his name on her phone, she'd think they had a case to catch or there was some other urgent emergency.

Now, they can call only to chat. To be friends, for now, though, truthfully, she's still not sure how long the for now part will continue to apply.

"Any particular reason you called, or are you wanting to hear my voice?" she asks, and it's teasing, but she knows there's something about her voice that penetrates even through the thickest parts of his skull and resonates.

He laughs, and his laugh has the same effect on her; it makes her smile, actually genuinely smile, not something forced or contrived. There's a lightness, now, to her actions, almost as though someone has flipped a light switch on her life and illuminated the corners that had grown cobwebs in the dark all these years. "A little of both," he finally admits, and she can almost hear him rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. "Wanted to see how my favorite captain was doing, if you and Noah had any plans this weekend."

She looks down at the drying sweatshirt and makes a mental note to add a few final curlicues before calling it complete. "Oh, we're fine," she says, smoothing out a wrinkle from her pajama pants. "Noah has a Christmas thing at school on Friday, where he has to be a gingerbread man."

"I bet that'll be fun," he says. "I think that's probably better than the year I had to be a carrot for the Thanksgiving pageant."

"I don't know, the picture your mom showed me the other day definitely makes me think you were one of the cuter vegetables in the cornucopia that year," she says, and she loves this lighter side of them. She'd seen the picture long before, when she met Bernie Stabler for the first time to help Kathleen, but Bernie had shown it to her again when they were there for Christmas, and the novelty of a little Elliot with his bright orange felt triangle still tickled her. "I was actually finishing decorating his costume when you called."

"If you have to go–"

"No, no," she says, pouring the last of her bottle in her glass and making a mental note to swing by the liquor store on her way home from work tomorrow. "Actually, uh, I was thinking."

"Always a dangerous proposition with you, Benson." And it's true, it is, because while he's been overly honest in ways he never could be before, she keeps her cards close to her chest. Intentionally so. So, while she has a pretty solid idea on where he stands on a lot of things, he has little idea of her own opinions.

Probably why that friends, for now line works so well, actually, because it's some of the first actual definition they've had as to what they are in some time. Ever since sex crimes detectives who work as partners was no longer an accurate description.

"Yeah, well, I think you might like this thought," she says, and she swallows quickly. To think what she's about to say is one thing, to say it out loud is another thing entirely. "Noah's been talking about when he can see you and Eli again, and what if you two came to the show with me?"

"Oh." He almost sounds disappointed, because why would he want to come to a Christmas pageant – excuse me, winter holiday extravaganza – for a kid he only barely knows? It was stupid of her to ask, but before she can cut in with an interjection, he says, "Eli can't be there; one of his best friends from Italy is flying in for the holidays, and those two will be inseparable. But I can be there. What time?"

Her heart flutters, barely a fraction. "I'll send you the details," she says, and she's pretty sure he can hear the grin on her face. "It's Friday night at 7."

"I'll be there."

And not for the first time ever, but maybe the first time in a long while, she thinks she might truly believe him when he says that.

~oOo~

By some fluke of chance – she can hardly believe it herself, mostly – she's out of the office by 5:30 on Friday, and even after battling traffic, she's still able to swing by home long enough to change from her work clothes into something more casual.

Her red sweater and black jeans are casual enough to be a proud mom dressing up in festive colors, dressy enough to mean something more, if Elliot really does show up like he's said he would.

She didn't want to say anything to Noah, in case it falls through on Elliot's end and he doesn't show up, no matter what his intentions are. A part of her is still a little leery about letting Elliot into Noah's life, because the last thing she wants to do is to have Noah grow attached and then Elliot leaves again.

But, as she pulls into a parking spot at 6:53, she looks at herself in the rearview mirror and drags her hairbrush through her hair one last time, before she gives herself one last self-conscious fluff of the hair and a dab of clear lip gloss. Not that his attention should be on her lips, not tonight. Tonight is about Noah.

She sees a particularly harried older kid dressed as a candy cane running past her at full-speed, dragging a pigtailed kindergartener in a cardboard dreidel costume behind him.

"Hey." She hears him before she sees him, and she turns to see him looking at her with a broad grin on his face. He's holding what appears to be something on a stick, down by his side. "I wasn't sure if I was in the right place."

"Oh, you definitely are." She knows the smile on her face has to be at least half as wide as his. "It's good to see you made it." Not because she'd doubted him, but because every promise he makes to her and keeps is another time he inches closer to her heart.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," he says, taking her hand in his and squeezing gently, as they begin to walk toward the school building. "So, 'all-inclusive winter holiday extravaganza'?"

"They want everyone to feel included, so every winter holiday a family at the school celebrates, they include," she says. "And that way, the kids can learn about the different cultures too. Everyone gets to learn."

"Going to Catholic school, our only Christmas pageant was the traditional one," he says. "Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus, angels delivering the good news."

"Wait, wait, don't tell me." Her eyes glitter with laughter as she pretends to think it over. "Don't tell me you were also one of those angels. Elliot Stabler with a halo? This, I gotta see."

He laughs too, full of mirth and joy, and his hand slips closer against hers. There's a warmth coming from his hand that she finds herself instinctively craving, as they walk together. "I didn't know you'd ever talked to Father O'Malley, my childhood priest," he says, "because that's exactly why I was never given wings. I was usually one of the shepherds."

They've never needed actual physical contact to be close to each other; they've always found a way to walk through a hallway or a door simultaneously, but with their newfound permissions to touch – if even only holding hands – she finds that they're finding ways to get even closer.

She's going to take all the opportunities she can to enjoy it, because now that she knows what it's like to go without, she wants to remember it for all it's worth.

She can almost picture a younger Elliot, maybe a little older than the boy in the carrot photo, wearing his father's bathrobe, tied closed with a length of rope, and one of Bernie's towels fastened around his head. She can see him, sitting there in a nondescript church cobbled together from her memories of visiting churches over the years, his legs crossed under him as one of the angels – maybe one of his sisters, maybe Kathy, maybe someone else entirely, who knows – told the enraptured audience of shepherds about the marvelous news.

"That sounds like it was nice," she says. And she means it, because she's always envied those who can allow themselves to remain faithful, even when the world around them seems so cruel and unforgiving. She knows good people exist; one of the very best, she knows in her heart, is walking beside her and pushing the door to the auditorium open.

Oddly tinny festive music is piped in from somewhere unseen, and most of the adults and older siblings in attendance are milling around by the doors making awkward small talk.

"Yeah, the last year I did it, they made me Joseph," he says, smiling as if he's remembering some memory. "And then a few days before the pageant, Kathy told me she was pregnant, and I realized how Joseph must have felt. But though he was scared, he still did the right thing by Mary and by the baby, and if it was good enough for the man God trusted to raise His son? It was good enough for me, too."

She pauses, unsure of what she can say to that. The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, and he laughs to break the tension. "So, hey, did little Olivia ever get to be an angel herself?"

"Nah," she says, smiling. "My school did Christmas concerts every year, so we'd get up on a stage like that one," and she motions to the rising curtain that reveals a haphazardly glittery set piece that looks like the inside of a broken snowglobe. "And sing 'Up on the Housetop' and 'Jingle Bells' and songs like that."

"I didn't know you could sing." He looks amused at the idea of a younger Olivia, with her long braids slightly askew, warbling her way through the tales of Frosty or Rudolph's adventures.

She can still close her eyes and picture her old school auditorium, with the stark white walls that seemed to stretch upward forever, and the cold metal bleachers that hurt to stand on. "I can't!" she exclaims. "You've heard me in the car on stakeouts." They make their way to a pair of empty seats with a good view of the stage, and they sit down and watch as set pieces are quickly moved into place, as if the people coordinating it don't realize the curtain has risen. "I think there's some stray cats I need to apologize to."

"That's assuming there's even cats who can understand it," he says with a cheeky grin, and she shoots him a quick glare.

They're silenced by a frantic woman running out on stage; she's carrying a clipboard with pages flying all about, and while one pair of glasses rests on top of her head, another is perched precariously off her nose. "Hi! Hi! I'm Lynda, and welcome to the annual Wharton Primary School All-Inclusive Holiday Extravaganza! I'm so incredibly sorry, but there's been some reindeer-related delays backstage. I promise, your holiday fun will begin shortly! Until then, enjoy the music!"

As the tinny music from earlier turns back on, and Elliot and Olivia turn to face each other. "Reindeer-related delays?" he asks, one of his eyebrows shooting far up his forehead. "Do I even want to ask what kind of show this is?"

She laughs. "I missed last year when Noah's entire class were elves, but I saw a recording of it later. It's – it's something, that's for sure."

"I'll take your word for it." He settles back in the folding chair and groans; these chairs aren't made for adult men, especially not men of his particular stature, and Olivia can sense his discomfort.

"We don't have to keep sitting here," she says. "We can find another seat." She glances around, not seeing a lot of other open options that would allow them to sit by each other, but she doesn't want Elliot to be miserable.

Even if sitting in an uncomfortable chair is a small penance for him after ten years of silence, after frightening her in the middle of the night, after running off into undercover as soon as he got the chance. Even after all that, she doesn't want to see him go through any further misery. There's been enough misery, both short and long-term, in both of their lives, to last them multiple lifetimes.

He shakes his head. "No, I like the view fine from right here." He stretches out his legs, and his feet nearly jostle the chair in front of him; the person sitting in it turns around to see who did it, and he gives her a sheepish, contrite smile. "Sorry, ma'am," he says. "Won't happen again."

The lady clicks her tongue at him and turns back around with an annoyed hmph, and Olivia covers her hand with her mouth to suppress the giggles that threaten to erupt. "Oh my God, Elliot," she says, but the lights begin to go down and a crowd of giddy, flailing children file onto the stage before she can finish her thought.

She sees the pigtailed dreidel from earlier and a couple of her friends spinning around the stage happily, as one of the older children explains the symbolism of Hanukkah: the miracle of the eight days of oil, with the children dressed as menorah candles fidgeting with their yellow hats that represented the flames. And she knows that if Noah's observing this, he's likely going to ask her if they can have latkes too.

If she remembers right, Munch had always been team sour cream for his latkes, but Noah's mentioned that his friend Sammy prefers applesauce, so they might have to try both and see which one is more successful. She can't imagine that Uncle Munch wouldn't like to share a little bit of his culture with her and Noah, maybe after the insanity of the holidays died down after the new year.

The Hanukkah segment segues into some of the oldest children talking about the significance of the winter solstice, and how every one of the winter festivals is, at its core, about bringing light and hope into a world filled with darkness, as well as spending time with the ones you love.

And she thinks of the Christmas lights that hang on her and Noah's tree at home, and the candles that feature so prominently in both Hanukkah and Kwanzaa, and how, on a winter's night, walking through the darkness, she can see the transcendent appeal of warmth, togetherness, and light. Especially with those you love, those that are important – like Noah. Like Elliot.

There's a short segment that somehow combines St. Lucia — the bringer of light venerated by many in Scandinavia, wearing a long white dress, with a red sash and candles on her head – and Las Posadas, commemorating Mary and Joseph's frantic search for a room at the inn. There's even a version of the nativity story, and she looks to see the trace of a smile on Elliot's face as he watches the shepherds on stage, holding their stuffed lambs as the girl who played St. Lucia delivers the news.

It continues, with a group of students wearing red, green, and black cheerfully explaining Kwanzaa and its importance to the African-American community and those with African heritage, and what each of the seven principles means to the particular student speaking on them.

Elliot leans over to whisper in her ear as the students shuffle off the stage. "I see what they mean, now."

She laughs, nudges him with her elbow. "Noah should be coming up soon," she says, and his head snaps back to the stage as if he can't miss the very second her son steps foot onto the stage.

Or in his case, leaps, because it's quickly evident that the gingerbread people and candy canes are the students who are also dancers, serving as an intermission between the two separate acts. She watches as Noah and his fellow dancers make their best attempts at synchronization, and when the littlest peppermint swirl trips over her tap shoes and goes tumbling to the stage floor, Noah's right there to scoop her up and pat her gently on the head with his mitten before returning to his steps.

She can't stop watching, and she loves that his talents outside the classroom are being recognized by his school; she also loves that she's raising a boy with a good heart.

Sneaking another glance at Elliot, she sees that he's equally as captivated; his eyes follow Noah as he glides effortlessly across the stage — one of the better dancers in the group, despite being one of the younger ones. He's never seen her boy dance before, but she can see the glow of a pride that could almost be called fatherly flicker in the serenity of his gaze.

It does a lot to tamper any misgivings she might have had about this whole night, and they both wave happily to Noah as he makes eye contact with them before leaving the stage, the second act ready to commence.

~oOo~

The story for the second act doesn't quite make sense to her – it involves Santa Claus, who she knows better as the kindly librarian nearing his retirement, who encourages Noah to challenge himself and read above his reading level. And there's his elves, and the reindeer – who turn out to be eight vaguely annoyed students with antlers askew on their heads, and a ninth with a giant red clown nose attached to their face, which really makes Olivia wonder what their delay was – and various other festive winter friends trying to save the light that indicates the collective holiday spirit from being extinguished.

It's a little sloppily-written, but she grins as Noah and the rest of his gingerbread friends reappear to help provide moral support as the light on top of the tree in the center of the stage illuminates brightly for everyone to see.

Then, piano music echoes over the speakers, and all the children – whether they'd been in the first act, or the second, or the dancers in-between, rush out on stage and begin singing the words to "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," except the children were singing their own winter holiday in place of Christmas, as appropriate. She could even hear Feliz Navidad and Maligayang Pasko being said by a few students, along with some others she couldn't make out clearly, celebrating the countries of their birth.

She feels tears welling up in her eyes, and Elliot must hear her sniffles, because he turns to look at her. "Are you okay?" he mouths.

She nods, swallowing the lump that threatens to expand and feeling the cool rush of air enter her lungs. "I'll explain later," she mouths in reply, motioning to the kids swaying on stage as they sing about glad tidings they bring. Noah's next to the tiny peppermint swirl he'd helped earlier, and the dreidel with pigtails is on his other side, and St. Lucia and Santa Claus, Mary and Joseph, all the candles from the menorah and the kinara – everyone is singing in unison, filling the room with their holiday cheer.

Both Elliot and Olivia give them all a well-deserved standing ovation.

~oOo~

They're hanging back by the snack table after it's all done, and the kids are slowly filtering out from backstage, and Elliot pulls out the item he's been carrying around with him all night. "This is my little gift for Noah, I hope it's okay?" he asks, showing her the Santa face cookie on a stick. "I wanted to get him a little something, wasn't sure if he'd want flowers in front of all his classmates."

Wiping away a loose tear with her finger, she grins. "He's going to love it. Thank you for coming," she says. She takes a brownie from the table and drops a couple dollars in the parents' association donation box. "That song makes me emotional."

"Which song?" he asks, before the memory clicks. "Oh, 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas?'"

"Yeah, uh." She stops eating the brownie and motions for him to join her off to the side. "You know how I told you that my school always did Christmas concerts, not a play or anything like this?"

"Yeah." He's looking at her, taking a sip of the punch concoction that's on offer, and there's a measure of concern playing out across his features.

She clears her throat, scuffs the sole of her shoe across the floor. "That was always the song they'd end our concerts with, and I remember looking around at my school friends and classmates and thinking about the Merry Christmases they were going to have, and the Happy New Years, while my own mother was incredibly unpredictable, and I didn't even know if there'd be any presents for me to unwrap, or if I'd have to watch my mom drunkenly stumble through another day. And it," she sucks the top of her lower lip under her teeth and gnaws at it, a little. "It always stung, because I wanted that too, more than anything."

He draws her into an embrace, his arms wrapping around her, trying to give her comfort. "I got you, Olivia," he says, and he's rubbing circles with the flat palm of his hand against her back, and his breath pleasantly smells like the peppermint from the candy canes they've been handing out. She can't quite understand the whispered mumbling that he says under his breath, but it comforts her to hear it, nevertheless; she doesn't have to hear every single word he's saying to know how it makes her feel.

She could stay here, like this, with him holding her – reassuring her, with his words but more importantly his presence – all night, if not longer, but they're standing in a school auditorium, and he's holding a cup of lukewarm punch and a Santa cookie on a stick, and they're waiting for her son to come out so they can celebrate his awesome performance.

Finally, a group of giggling gingerbread people walk out from behind the stage, and Noah – the one with the curliest hair of them all – runs over to them, an excited grin on his face. "Did you see me dance, Mom?" He turns, and if it's possible, seeing Elliot standing there makes him grin even wider. "You came too, Mr. Elliot?!"

"Yeah, your mom told me all about your performance and suggested you might like it if I surprised you!" Elliot says, kneeling down so he's on eye level with Noah. "I brought you a little extra surprise, too." He extends his hand, holding out the Santa cookie to Noah.

Noah excitedly takes the cookie and flings his arms around Elliot in an impromptu, frenzied hug. "Thank you, Mr. Elliot." He turns and faces Olivia, and throws his arms around her too. "Did I do good, Mom?"

"You did so well!" she exclaims, ruffling his curls in her hand as she embraces her son. "I didn't know you were going to be dancing. You were the cutest dancing gingerbread man I've ever seen."

The tinges of a furious pink blush trace around his features, and though he ducks his head in seeming embarrassment, she can see the genuine smile on his face. "Thanks, Mom," he says, and she smiles back at him. Her precious boy is quickly growing up, and the memories that they make tonight will be the ones he looks back on one day with his own family, hopefully with fondness.

"There he is!" she hears a little girl's voice call out, and she sees the tiny tap-dancing peppermint swirl dragging a woman behind her, headed directly for him. "I told you that was Noah! And that's Noah's mom!"

"I'm Bree Charles," the woman says, holding out her hand to shake both Olivia's and Elliot's. "Madelyn here was insistent that she introduce me to the boy who helped her out when she tripped earlier."

"It's very nice to meet you both," Olivia says, solemnly taking her hand and shaking it, like she would an adult's. "You were very cute up there on that stage tonight, Madelyn."

"Noah helped me," she says, beaming at Noah. "Noah's my friend. Even though he's a boy, and he's older than me."

Noah shrugs his shoulders and laughs a little. "I didn't want you to get hurt up there," he says, looking at Madelyn, but nodding at her mother.

"Well, I wanted to thank you, Noah, for helping Madelyn. It was very sweet. And you've raised a very good boy, Ms. Benson."

Olivia grins. Any mother likes hearing praise about their children; for her, especially, considering the rocky road that eventually led to Noah becoming hers, it means all the more. "Thank you," she says, smiling softly. There's not much more than she can say than that. "Madelyn seems like a sweetheart too."

The smile she receives in return is the shared smile of mothers complimenting each other's children. "My boyfriend is getting off work and wants to see Madelyn before she goes to bed, but can we exchange numbers? We're new to the school and I don't know many parents here yet."

"Absolutely." Olivia digs in her purse and finds one of her business cards; she takes a pen and scrawls her personal number on the back. "Here's my card."

"Captain Olivia Benson, Manhattan Special Victims Unit?" Bree asks, her mouth agape as she looks at the official NYPD logo on the card. "And you. Are you Noah's dad?"

"I'm Olivia's–" And she can hear the catch in his voice, how he wants so badly to say they're something more than what they've defined themselves to be. And she does too, really and truly, but for now still exists. For now. "I'm Olivia's friend, Elliot," he finally settles with, looking to her with a tentative smile. "Also a cop, though."

"Okay, so I'm definitely keeping your card, Olivia, and I hope we'll run into the three of you again?" Bree says, raising her eyebrow in a suggestive arc, as she takes hold of Madelyn's hand. "Especially you, Elliot."

After Bree and Madelyn walk away, Olivia dissolves into a fit of giggles. "Well, you apparently have a fanbase with younger women," she says.

"She's younger than at least two of my daughters!"

Olivia looks at him and nods approvingly, the motion almost imperceptible except to her. And him, because he catches the nod and smirks, as if he can read her mind. Maybe he can, a little.

"You know, whenever my kids had a play or a concert or a game, or whatever, I'd always take them out for pizza afterward," Elliot says. "What do you think, you want to go have some pizza with me and your mom?"

"Pizza is always a yes!" Noah exclaims; he begins to run on ahead toward the parking area, before he halts and spins around on his foot. "Last one there is a rotten egg!"

They share a laugh, and his hand finds hers again. "Let him run on ahead and burn off some of his energy," Olivia says. "We'll be right behind him." She half-expects him to run on ahead to catch up with Noah, release some of his own energy, while she lags behind; maybe a younger Elliot, a brasher, more impulsive Elliot who hadn't seen as much of the dark side of life as this one has would have, but this one seems to be content to walk with her, by her side. Holding her hand.

And maybe he's the light to bring to all the darkest corners of her life, bringing hope for new beginnings to them both.

After all, a year ago at this time, she was watching a digital copy of that year's presentation on her tablet, wishing she could have been there, and Elliot was nothing more than someone she missed terribly but hadn't heard from in such a long time.

Now, a year later, she can hear Noah's laughter echoing not far off in the distance, as she walks back to her car hand-in-hand with Elliot. She's gotten to watch him perform, and she's also been able to spend the evening with Elliot.

"Before we get to the cars," Elliot says, and they stop right outside the building. "Thank you for letting me come tonight, Liv. It was great to see Noah again, and you, of course." His eyes flick down to her lips, and she knows what he's thinking. She can feel it in every fiber of her being, and her heart thrums at a rapid pace as she quickly analyzes all the options she has.

Before she knows it, though, she leans up on her tiptoes and plants a soft, tender kiss on the corner of his upturned mouth. "A promise, for now," she says, softly, and the way his clear eyes glitter in the reflection of the lights that punctuate the darkness around them makes her smile. "I don't want to keep Noah waiting, though."

He's standing there looking at her with an expression of marvel and wonder painted across his face, a goofy grin slipping across his features, and she knows the conversations they're still yet to have are far from over, but knowing that she has that kind of effect on him is empowering.

She begins to walk on ahead, their hands still connected by the loop of fingers holding onto each other; she tugs on his hand lightly. "You coming, Stabler?" she asks, laughter in her voice.

"Right behind you, Benson," he replies.

As they walk into the night holding hands, flush with newly-declared promises and the hopes of more to come, she rests her head against his shoulder and smiles, more to herself than anything else. The night is still somewhat young, and they're not saying good night, not yet – the lingering possibilities dangle in the air, but for now, she's content to be with Elliot and Noah, and see where the night goes.

All that said, this was truly the best winter holiday extravaganza ever.