AN: Hi! Thank you SO much for all of the kind words on the little Prologue/Ch 1. I'm really excited to explore these two. I've…. never written fic before, so I love hearing your thoughts in the comments. Also, totally open to suggestions about situations you want to see here in this collection of one shots. Let me know!
-R
I'VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE: CH 2 / SOLACE
Olivia's shoulders slung and her gaze is cold as she walks out of the interrogation room. Her eyes are fixed on her office door, not even four feet away, her legs moving with unusual speed to get there. Breathe, Liv, breathe. The only noise she makes is a shaky exhale as she closes her door, and she is oblivious to the concern rising across her squad's faces as she passes them.
It's hours until she reemerges, only to refill her to-go coffee mug, her tote hiked up on her shoulder and wool coat over her arm. Her appearance isn't any better, perhaps it's worse. Fin glances up to read her, taking note of the warm-looking blotches beneath her eyes and the faint dampness along her hairline. "Hey, Liv, you okay?" he treads lightly. "I was watching through the one-way mirror, I saw—"
"—I'm fine, Fin." Her reply is quick and defensive. "Just something about that last perp… I think I'm going to head out early," her voice breaks slightly, but she takes a breath, closes her eyes for a split second and pulls it together. "Are you guys good for the night? Call if you need."
Olivia doesn't give him, or anyone, a chance to answer as she makes a beeline for the elevator.
The traffic up the West Side is slow moving, the universe granting her more unwanted time with her psyche. She's been so good for years, she thinks. It's almost a foreign feeling now, until it comes barreling through and it isn't anymore. It's achingly familiar, and perhaps it always will be. Later she'll make a call to Dr. Lindstrom to schedule an appointment for tomorrow, then force herself to eat dinner (her stomach churns at the thought) and maybe work on one of the coping techniques he'd taught her. But, right now, she needs to be home, she needs to feel safe.
She distracts herself with a New York Times podcast; she isn't necessarily interested, but she wants to listen to something that isn't her own mind racing. The latest news about global warming is fucking depressing though, and it only lasts her 3 traffic lights until the panic creeps back in and by the next red, she's regretfully remembering one of the last times this happened, about 5 years ago.
Olivia held her right hand up to her left eye, allowing the mascara wand to sweep over her lashes in the finishing touch to her simple makeup routine. She blinked once, twice, before starting to put her makeup bag back in its drawer next to her sink when she heard Ed pad through the hall, into her room, and stopping in the doorway to the bathroom. It was a perfectly normal morning, him leaning in to gently kiss her goodbye for the day, until the keys he was holding slipped from his grasp, hitting the marble countertop, and thudding to the floor.
Clink, clunk, splat.
Ed bent over, quickly retrieving his keys, and reaching back up to her in one motion, moving towards her cheek. "Bye, Liv, see ya later—"
Silence.
"Liv?"
Her eyes flickered around the room, backing up against the towel rack to ground herself. She wasn't focusing on him, or anything in particular.
"Liv? Olivia? What's wrong, what happened?"
More silence.
"Liv, I'm going to work, I just came in to say bye."
Deafening silence. Then stutters.
"I—"
Ed looked at her, then behind her, looked around to find anything out of the ordinary.
Her eyes stopped roaming, but her breathing was still heavy as her gaze finally landed on the keys he was still holding between his fingers. Her eyes shut and she tried to even her breathing.
She finally parallel parks, thanking god for the muscle memory, and heads toward her building. Two minutes, keep it together for two more minutes Liv, you're better than this. She hyper-fixates on the one, two, three, four, five, steps up to her front door, the chandelier hanging in her lobby, the green up arrow on the elevator button, the subtle ding, the number 5 she presses to illuminate for her floor, the florescent lights buzzing and lining the hallway, the familiar feel of her doormat bristles under her feet.
She winces, slightly, as she lifts her keys to the lock and lets herself in. She allows the door to slam behind her and then leans up against it, shutting her eyes and breathing deeply in a self-soothing pattern.
Footsteps.
Panic.
Familiar ones.
What?
"Liv – It's Elliot, I'm here. Fin called. I let myself in, I'm here and you're okay." He states softly and clearly, making his presence known, fully aware of what's going on. "Come here, I've got you, Liv. It's okay." He takes quiet, wide strides to get to her.
Her eyes snap open and she wants to scream. She wants to run, she can barely process. Her mind leaves her body and she can't think a single thought.
"I know you said to only use—um—only let myself in if there's an emergency, but I.. I think this qualifies. Come here."
He wants to help. He gets it. He's Elliot. Let him, Liv.
She exhales deeply and lets him hold her. She lets herself be comforted, lets herself trust him. He wraps one arm around her back and the other cradles her head, hand curving at the nape of her neck. If there wasn't panic in every nerve ending of her body, she'd remind herself how insane it is that Elliot Stabler can touch her like this, and she likes it.
"You're safe Liv, I've got you."
Christ.
She sobs. They're still for a few minutes as he holds her. The gravity of the situation isn't lost on either of them, and they sway together with a silent understanding of this. She's in one of the most vulnerable states she can be in, and she's trusting him, trusting her partner. Trusting Elliot, even after all of this time.
He's offering her comfort, solace he should have been there to give her 10 years ago. He's overcome with emotion, but this isn't about him. He follows her lead then as she pulls back slightly, and he looks at her searching eyes.
"Hey, hey, look at me. Eyes on me, Liv."
She grounds herself in his familiar eyes. She's thankful for them, for him.
"Elliot," she sighs, "this perp earlier, I was interrogating, and it was fine, and then he got angry and he—"
"—he stood up and threw the keys from his pocket across the room, I know. Fin told me, he.. I mean… he said something happened, that you didn't look okay when you came out, and I asked him to tell me what he saw through the one-way."
"And you knew when I saw—"
"—yeah, Liv. I figured."
This man.
It'd been a couple of months since she had told him about Lewis. They were curled up together on her couch, flirting and kissing and touching a little over a bottle of red. When she bit his ear, lingering, and asked him to stay the night, he jokingly said he couldn't leave if he tried anyway, because of the five separate locks she kept on her apartment door. The night took a turn then, and it was emotionally tumultuous for both of them, but it was necessary. If she's honest, it's what needed to happen for them to keep moving forward.
She was thankful it was out in the open then, and now, she's just overcome with feelings about Elliot—her partner Elliot, her friend Elliot, her *whatever they are now* Elliot—knowing what happened and knowing exactly how to be there for her. And of course, he knows. He's Elliot.
They stand, bodies attached, in her hallway breathing together for what could have been six minutes, or six hours, or six days. When he feels her heartbeat return to somewhat of a normal level, he lifts his face and presses small kisses to her hairline, humming.
"You okay?"
"I will be."
"Want to talk anymore about it?"
"No."
More kisses. She focuses on the feel of his lips against her face. He's keeping her here in this moment with him, which feels like a distant concept because she can't remember the last time she hasn't had to work through a panic attack alone. It should feel harder, she thinks, to give up control and let him lead her through it, but it doesn't. It feels natural, it feels good. It feels like… finally.
His lips come down her cheek, stopping briefly at her lips. She smiles slightly and beats him to it, pecking his lips quickly. Thank you.
He continues peppering the warm skin down her neck, over her shoulder, and then the length of her arm, through her coat. He quickens his pace, planting soft kisses until he reaches her hand and grasps it in his, leading her down the hallway.
"Alright, Benson, let's get you some dinner. God knows you need it."