A/N: Chapter 5 has arrived. This was hard, but good to write. Cathartic on a lot of levels - I hope it is for you readers, as well. Chapter 6 is already in the works. Your comments have been wonderful - keep them coming! Pairing is E/O
Rating: M for language, and mature themes
Spoilers: Very minor ones, for episodes from seasons 8, 11, and 17
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I just get bored.
Talisman: 5
Stay in this job long enough and all of your heroes die. - Amanda Rollins, "Collateral Damages"
Tucker's move to Convictions Integrity had resulted in a nicer office, in a newer wing of 1PP. Olivia had a pretty good idea that it had come with a nice bump in pay, too - but Ed had never liked to talk about money.
She had tossed and turned through the night, thinking of what Elliot had said, what he'd insinuated. Once Noah was dropped off to daycare the next morning, Liv had wasted no time in driving straight to Ed's office. He wasn't in yet for the day, so she'd commenced pacing the long hallway as she waited.
"Olivia?"
She turned to see him finally arriving, coffee cup in hand. "I wish you'd called - I woulda brought you a coffee."
Liv didn't respond, just followed behind him as he let himself in and turned on the light. She shut the door behind them and stood across from his desk. Once his keys and coffee cup had been set down, Tucker looked up to ask her to what he owed the pleasure . . . but stopped cold when he saw the gaze she'd fixed him with.
"Liv? You okay?"
Olivia was near to trembling from her rage, disbelief and the sheer indignation of having to be there. "Tucker -" He tilted his head at her use of his last name. Liv took a deep breath and let out a rueful chuckle.
"You know . . . I had to make peace with an awful lot in order to make sense of anything happening between us. I often wondered, why you were so eager to show me that you were a different man. But, after Lewis, I thought, well . . . people deserve that chance. To change. As it turns out, though, I'm just an amazing sucker for punishment."
"Liv -"
She held up a hand. "Oh, I'm not finished! Twelve. Years. Elliot and I worked together longer than you were married." Liv smirked at him. "Well, I guess I'm starting to put together why. Almost seven years now, I've been punishing myself - thinking that I'd failed somehow, in being there for my partner when it really mattered.
"Now, unfortunately for you, Elliot has shown back up. And he opened my eyes to your twisted plan."
"My plan." Tucker kept his voice neutral.
"Yes. All those years - you, conveniently showing up any time Elliot even wavered from the book. I mean, I knew you had it out for him, I just never fully knew why.
"Then, when Brady Harrison set me up, you were awfully quick to try and bury me. Yeah. Prying into my private affairs, threatening me with strip searches . . . trying to find all my triggers."
Olivia had started pacing the short length of Ed's office as she spoke, and was now nearly breathless with the pace of it. Facing him again, she stopped pacing. "Once I survived William Lewis, I told myself that I'd survived the worst thing that could happen to me. This many years on the job . . . shot, stabbed, abducted, physically and sexually assaulted, stalked - I mean, you name it.
"You bullied Elliot out of the NYPD, Tucker. You let me, and the squad, think for years that it was his choice to make. You are . . . an unimaginable bastard."
She expected him to explode, but instead, when he spoke, his voice was as calm as if they were discussing what movie to see. "He did have a choice. He chose to go home to the family he'd been neglecting for over a decade."
Liv snorted. "And I bet you don't know a thing about neglecting a marriage, wouldja?"
"I gave him the option of coming back to work," Ed said firmly. "You ever think maybe he just decided that it wasn't worth the trouble?"
"He decided you weren't worth the trouble!" she shouted. "Can ya blame him? After all the time you spent, crawling up his ass?!"
"Elliot Stabler was a loose cannon, who ignored the rules and ran out of free passes. Not everything is a vendetta, Liv. I should know. I did you, and your career, a favor."
Olivia stepped forward until her thighs bumped the edge of the desk, and jabbed her finger into the shiny wooden surface. "You listen to me carefully. The only favor you did anyone was yourself: trying to keep Elliot from coming back, because you knew as long as he did, there was never a chance in hell I would say yes to seeing you.
"Everything that's happened to my career, happened because I worked my ass off for it - so save me your ego-stroke."
After a beat, Tucker broke their gaze with a deep breath. He switched gears: "IAB had been on Stabler for a long time, Liv - longer than you know. It was no big secret that you two were too close. Did you really expect it to just go on forever?"
" 'Too close'?" Liv chuckled hollowly. "You mean, everyone thought we were having an affair."
"Your words - not mine."
"Mmm. Well - I've got a revelation for you, Tucker:" she leaned forward, across the desk slightly, "the only one who fucked me . . . is you. For more than 12 years, you fucked me. But you're done, now."
She didn't wait on a response, simply turned on her heel and swept out the door.
ii.
Elliot pushed out a sigh and tossed his binoculars to the car's passenger seat. He sipped his coffee and listened to his aging muscles protest as he stretched.
He had been casing his newest file's work location since the evening before, but without any luck. The hours had stretched long, and El ached to text Liv, but he knew she'd need space. He refused to fuck up again - right away, at least.
Instead, he had passed most of the night reminiscing. Old cases, old stakeouts . . . nights spent with Liv, sharing a drink after a hard case, or a big win. Stabler puzzled over when the scales had finally tipped, making Olivia the more important relationship in his life. He asked himself - to no avail - to recall when the tether had finally broken, between he and Kathy. Watching the sun rise, he tortured himself the most by speculating how things might have been different, if he hadn't been such a coward years ago, leaving Liv the way he had.
Finally, as the business he was watching began to open for the day, and his target was still nowhere in sight, El shifted into drive, preparing to head home. He stomped the brake as his cell buzzed before he could move.
I MISS YOU.
It was Liv. Elliot smiled, feeling the night wash off him, knowing now that when he got home, he would sleep.
iii.
Liv set down her cell as she hit 'send' and let her head drop into her hands. A knock came on the door, and Amanda Rollins let herself in.
"Hey, Liv -"
"Rollins. Is it too early for a drink?"
Amanda smirked. "I won't tell, if you won't. Rough mornin'?"
Liv snorted lightly. "Rough . . . something. That's for sure."
"You need'ta talk?"
"It can wait. What's up, Amanda?"
"Fin and I, we brought in that suspect I told you about - he's squawkin' about havin'ta go into work . . . I figured you'd wanna come watch the interview."
"Yeah." Olivia stood up. "Be right there."
iv.
Elliot's all-nighter caught up with him in the shower, where he found himself dozing, his head leaned against the warm tile. Shower dozing was an art that he'd perfected in the 1-6 over the years. Those stolen moments of sleep were sometimes all that stood between a detective and mania when on a 40-plus hour stretch.
Now, of course, El just chalked it up to being 51, and insisting on still working too much.
He dozed, and as he did, he dreamed of Olivia - something that was perfected moreso since exiting the 1-6. Her skin, that Elliot had used every excuse to get fleeting brushes of . . . her eyes that never failed to make his stomach burn as if he was still eighteen. The way his cock always reacted to thoughts of her, he could almost swear he'd be 18 forever.
Speaking of which . . . El let his hand drift to his groin, his head never leaving the tile. Yep - hard as a rock.
Almost lazily, he let himself stroke, thinking of what the taste of her might be, what the weight of the globes of her breasts would be in his hands. Elliot grunted, the low sound reverberating off the ceramic as he felt the tension start to coil in his belly. He shivered.
The door to the shower slid open, and El's eyes snapped to attention as he stood up straight. Kathy stepped into the shower behind him, splaying her cold hands against his back.
"Don't stop now," she whispered.
He swallowed, hard, frozen in place. It had been ages since anything physical had happened between them. He knew Kathy well enough to know that things between them nowadays came at a cost.
"Or, I can finish it for you . . . "
One of her hands started to slide for his crotch, but as it came around his side, Elliot met it, covering it with one of his own. "When'd you get home?" he asked her quietly.
He could feel her demeanour shift, solely from being questioned. She yanked her hand back, her voice petulant: "Since when do you care?"
He bit back a sigh. "Kath . . . "
"It's fine," she lied. The shower door slid open again, and she stepped out, yanking a towel around herself. Kathy's gaze was stormy as she watched him turn off the water and face her. "Doesn't look like I'd have been much help, anyway."
Elliot was a fool, with a flagging erection and a flagging marriage, who didn't understand anymore how they'd let things go this far. Picking up his own towel, he stepped out of the shower. "Why now?" he asked her.
"It shouldn't matter! You're my husband, for God's sake!"
He squeezed his eyes shut, still desperate for sleep. he thought of the text
(I MISS YOU)
and his bed with clean, cool sheets. "Kathy - you've been good for so long. We're both guilty of not noticing each other much. Did something happen?"
The tight line of Kathy's mouth trembled. "I just . . . got lonely." She spun on her heel and tried to busy herself at the vanity.
Elliot had wondered for some time, if Kathy had been having an affair. She'd been away from the house more, and they'd fought less. For the first time in years, she had seemed content - and in some strange way, El was happy for her. 'Don't ask, don't tell' was the only thing letting them still live peacefully under one roof.
Which meant he couldn't very well ask her if she'd ended something with someone. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said. It was sincere - and when she realized that, she stilled. Kathy met his reflection in the mirror from behind her. El thought of the things Kathleen had said. "I am, Kathy. You . . . deserve more than that. You should be happy."
She ran a brush angrily through her damp hair. "What are we doing, Elliot? God! Why couldn't you just have . . . given me my life back, ten years ago when I asked?!"
"I . . . " he opened his mouth, fully intending to insert an excuse. But then, he softened. "I should have. You're right."
Kathy's shoulders slumped as she deflated. "You look tired," she said flatly.
"I was staked out all night."
"You're too old for this shit, Elliot."
Maybe she meant his work. Maybe she meant their tenuous relationship. It was anyone's guess, really.
He chuckled. "You're probably right."
v.
The day had been long, and Olivia still hadn't gotten her drink. Not only that - she'd already called ahead to Lucy and asked her to stay late, since there seemed to be no end in sight.
Her squad had been investigating what was starting to look like a serial rapist. Most of the day - after they had been forced to let the perp go - was spent chasing details to make something stick.
She hadn't heard from Elliot since she had texted him that morning, and was becoming more paranoid as time passed that she'd overstepped. That ache, for the old days, was just under the surface, keeping her distracted.
"Liv? You with us?" Fin asked.
"Uh, yeah. Sorry." She turned back to the conference board. "So, how are we wanting to move forward?"
"I think we should try and catch him in the act," Rollins answered. "Y'know, we've got a solid idea what his M. O. looks like. He'll strike close to where he's comfortable . . . I say we be there when he does."
Liv nodded. "I think you're right. Rollins, Fin - let's get it rolling. I wanna be there, too." She grabbed her phone to call Lucy again as she stood up.
vi.
Stabler yawned and stretched, luxuriating in the cool sheets. Kathy had let him have the bed to himself - out of sympathy, maybe, over how tired he was. Not surprisingly, he found that a wet dream had taken care of his postponed orgasm. Peeling the sheet from his body, El scratched at his chest and grabbed his cell from the bedside table.
"Shit!"
He leapt from the bed as he realized the time, grabbing his towel from the floor to scrub come from his pelvis. Unknowingly, he'd slept most of the day away, when he had other work to do on his current assignment.
Swearing his way through getting dressed, he swiped up his cell again. He texted Liv: I MISS YOU TOO, and headed for his car.
vii.
Liv's phone went off, causing her to drop her gaze from their target. She smiled at Elliot's message, making Detective Rollins chuckle.
"I know what a smile like that means."
"Do you?" her Lieutenant grinned. "I'm not always sure I even know what that smile means, myself."
"Got it that bad, huh?" Rollins sipped her coffee, watching the street corner. "So what's the problem?"
Olivia let a long silence hang before responding. "He's uh . . . he's married."
It was enough to get Amanda to turn her head. Not so much the statement, but who she was talking to. She couldn't imagine many people who would peg her Lieutenant as the type.
"Married?" she frowned. "That's rough. I assume not happily?"
Liv shrugged. "I'm not sure. Not anymore, anyway. There was a time, when he was, but . . . that was," she sighed, "a long time ago." She scanned the corner they were watching, pushing herself to focus. But it felt really good to talk about it.
Intrigued, Rollins mulled over if it could be someone they mutually knew. It didn't feel right, to push, knowing that Liv was rarely forthcoming even of her own volition.
Eventually, Amanda spoke again: "Well. Life's too short t'wait around too long. My opinion, is all."
It was Liv's turn to chuckle, over how long ago that particular ship had probably sailed. "You know -"
"There's our guy," Rollins interrupted, sitting up straighter.
My old partner, the words never made it out of Olivia's mouth. She dropped her coffee into the cup holder. "Let's move." They started out of the car as Liv spoke into her wrist radio. "Fin, we're on the move."
At the corner bodega, a man who looked to be in his mid-to-late 20s was putting on an apron. Bruce Hewitt had been perfecting his act for weeks - picking his victims from the bodega customers. He'd hand out his number, ask the women to come back at close and meet him, to go out for drinks. Those drinks never came, of course - instead, Hewitt would drag the women into the first quiet alley and overpower them.
Liv and Rollins approached the bodega casually, splitting up to take separate sides. They watched Hewitt, chatting up his next target. She was a redhead, smiling brightly as he made smalltalk. Amanda flipped through a magazine.
"He's doing his thing, Fin," Liv said quietly, turning away from Hewitt as she lifted her wrist.
"Copy, Liv. Ready when you say the word," Fin came back.
Rollins nodded her chin toward Hewitt as she caught Liv's eye. He was writing on the girl's hand with a pen, and grinning. They waited for the woman to walk away before Rollins approached with Liv watching.
"Mr. Hewitt?" she flashed her badge. "May we have a word?"
Bruce threw the broom he had picked up, and then fled, past Amanda towards Olivia, who made an unsuccessful attempt to grab his shirt before he barrelled past. Liv wheeled and began pursuit as she heard Rollins radioing Fin.
Bruce Hewitt was not a small man, he'd ran track in high school, and put on speed easily. As soon as he could, he veered off into one of 'his'
alleys with Liv close behind.
"Give it up Hewitt!" she shouted as she rounded the same corner. "There's nowhere to go!"
He brought up against the side of a dumpster, grabbed the corner , vaulting himself around to the other side, reaching, reaching . . .
Olivia was stepping down the alley with her gun drawn. "C'mon, Hewitt! We figured out your game. If you come quietly, we can talk! We can . . . sort everything out," she tried.
Bruce stood up. "There's nothing to sort out." He levelled a handgun at Olivia. "Drop your gun."
Liv stopped walking.
viii.
The two eyed each other over the trash and puddle-filled alley. Liv was motionless as Hewitt came closer.
"Okay," Liv replied, lowering her voice. "You're the boss, Hewitt. Just take it easy." She wondered if Fin and Amanda had lost her in the chase. She lowered her gun. "Can we just talk?"
"Talk about what?" he scoffed. "Toss your gun this way."
"My name is Olivia -"
"Your gun!"
"Okay, okay." She skidded the gun as far as she could, watched Hewitt pick it up as she raised her other hand. "Tell me what you want."
He made it where she was standing, still aiming at her. "What I want, is for you to shut the hell up so I can think!"
As she fell silent, her breathing heavy, they heard another set of footsteps come into the alley. Liv waited, with relief, to hear Amanda or Fin's voice. Hopefully both.
Then Hewitt snatched Liv by the shoulder, spun her body into his. Olivia tensed as he turned her to face the entrance to the alley.
"Gotta tell ya, Hewitt - she doesn't respond very well to bein' told to shut up. Trust me - I know."
Olivia didn't know how, but it was Elliot she found herself gaping at. He was levelling a gun at Bruce Hewitt - who was now pointing his gun to Liv's temple.