Prompt #31: Bernie and the Stabler kids lock Liv and El together in a room to talk
Hidden Memories
~oOo~
The set-up begins innocuously enough that he doesn't suspect a thing, despite decades of being a detective. Or perhaps all of his training and experience is insufficient to prepare anyone for tackling the mastermind that is Bernie Stabler.
Elliot is splayed out on the couch, his head tilted back and his bare feet balanced inelegantly on the coffee table as he tries to find a way to relax. Sometimes, he senses he's getting too old for this job, and the aggressive take-down of a perp he carried out just hours earlier is now making itself known through the aches and pains radiating up and down his body. So when Bernie settles on the couch next to him, handing over a bottle of ice-cool beer in an attempt to revive him, he barely twitches an eyebrow.
"Still sore from earlier?" she asks sympathetically, and he grunts, draining half the beer in one go before sinking down onto the cushions with a mutter of thanks. She pats his arm kindly, leaning back alongside him where they sit in silence for a while, enjoying a peaceful mother-son moment.
"I was talking to Katie and Mo earlier," she finally breaks the peace. "They both mentioned how nice it would be to have Olivia over for brunch or dinner…it's been a long time since they last caught up. And I agree of course! Would love to meet her son, for a start."
He can sense her gaze on the side of his face, knows that she is very intently watching his reaction, but still cannot avoid the deep sigh that escapes from his lips.
"Mama, I don't think now is the right time to invite Olivia and Noah over," he says, gesturing to the ongoing renovation happening inside his apartment after half of it was destroyed as if that is the sole reason for his reluctance. The vague response is not enough to appease his mother, however, just as he had feared, and she merely shrugs.
"I hardly think Olivia is the type of person to have an issue with a bit of remodeling," she argues. "We can have a meal out on the patio if necessary, if it bothers you that much. Anyway, I don't think that's the real reason why you don't want to invite her over. You also didn't want the poor woman at your medal ceremony, of all things!"
He can hear the reproach in her voice and finally twists sideways so he can look her in the eye.
"Look Mama, my life is still a mess right now, alright? I just don't want to drag her into endless chaos when she deserves better, and I certainly can't believe she wants her son around all of this either."
Bernie looks back at him with a mutinous expression.
"You need to get your head out of your ass," she says primly and steals his beer to take her own sip. "Some things might slip my mind, but I haven't forgotten just how much Olivia made your problems her own anyway, with Katie back in the day. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't be impressed with you blocking her out of your life, because knowing you Elliot…there's still going to be chaos in your life two, three years from now. If you're not careful, you'll just be excluding her, not protecting her."
There's an unspoken 'like you did before' floating in the air between them, which Elliot doesn't want to deal with at the moment, so he reaches out to grasp his mother's hand gently, knowing the physical contact will calm her increasing judgment.
"Can we talk about this later?" he half-begs, and he can feel the second she relents, her shoulders dropping down and a pout flitting across her face before she nods in his direction. A small voice in the back of his mind ponders whether she gave up too easily, but he's tired enough to avoid dwelling on the topic altogether.
"Fine, fine," Bernie waves it away. "Forget listening to your mother's wisdom. On to another topic then, and I don't want to be a bother, but…do you think you can sort out some of those boxes in the closet this weekend? Only, Katie and I were going to go shopping, but I'm running out of anywhere to store my clothes."
The closet is something he's been reluctant to tackle for a while now. Out of sight, out of mind, and he's been grateful so far that all those boxes have been stored in his mother's large wardrobe rather than his own room, where he'd have to be confronted with them every day. He can hardly begrudge her wanting more space, however, and saying no to Bernie is always a challenge.
"Sure," he agrees, taking his beer back again to finish the dregs.
"This Saturday?" she checks, and when he nods in the affirmative, her smile is almost suspiciously bright.
~oOo~
When Saturday dawns, his mind registers two things almost simultaneously: firstly, that he's slept in later than his usual 'rise with the sun' routine, and secondly, that he can already hear the murmur of voices drifting into his bedroom from the kitchen.
Both things strike him as slightly odd because if there's one thing in common his mother and youngest child share, it's their love of sleep. In fact, it's generally a surprise if he sees Eli before midday during the weekend, unless he physically drags the boy out of bed, or bribes him with something more enticing for a teenager than hibernation — a difficult task at the best of times. If anyone ever thinks to ask, he'll never admit to moving extra fast through the shower that morning, but he's up, washed, dressed, and heading to the kitchen in an impressively short amount of time to go investigate what is happening.
When he stumbles into the room, three heads swivel towards him, and he realizes that not only are Bernie and Eli both awake and sitting at the table, hunched over a mug of coffee and a bowl of cereal respectively, but his home has been invaded by another one of his children.
"Morning dad," Kathleen announces breezily as she takes a large sip of her own coffee, the only one of the three who is a morning person like her father.
"Morning," he says, shuffling around to give her a kiss on the cheek. "What are you doing here? And how did you get these two out of bed so promptly?"
Bernie waggles her fingers vaguely in response to his line of questioning, but Eli only sinks further towards his cereal.
"Well, Grandma B and I have shopping plans," Kathleen replies, and for some reason, she's at least gifted with a sweet smile from Bernie, in a blatant display of favoritism. "So I hope you're doing some of that closet unpacking and sorting today, Dad. That stuff's been sitting there for years and years now, so surely you don't need most of it. You're lucky Mo was kind enough to store it at her house for so long."
It's true — most of these boxes have been packed up and collecting dust for over a decade now, memories of a life that seems both increasingly relevant, considering his work and the people around him right now, and yet so long ago also, as if they're abandoned relics of a different Elliot Stabler.
He had originally assumed it would be the items shipped back to the US from Italy that would cause him the most grief — clothes, jewelry, and other items belonging to Kathy that he thought would only serve as reminders of pain and loss. And yet surprisingly, he had found it cathartic to unpack everything, keeping a few treasured pieces himself, and passing the rest of it to his children, so they too could have keepsakes honoring their mother. Eli was happy to have all his own belongings back, and in the end, everything had been sorted out far more swiftly and easily than he had anticipated.
These boxes though…these are the ghosts of a life he had thought he'd left behind, never to return. The things that were too important to throw away, but not significant or necessary enough to take with them to Italy, that retain more sentimental value than practical use. These were the hardest things to unpack because they belong to a version of himself he has not made peace with yet, and isn't convinced he wants to confront any time soon.
But Kathleen is looking at him expectantly, so he forces a smile and nods.
"Yes, I'll get some of them sorted today so Mama has more space for her clothes," he agrees, and this appeases his daughter enough that she wanders off to get a refill of coffee.
"And you?" Elliot asks Eli suspiciously because he can't think of a valid reason for his youngest to be up and dressed already, especially considering how disgruntled he appears about being awake in the first place.
Bernie elbows Eli in the ribs when he doesn't respond to the question.
"Hmm?" Eli finally raises his head.
"Why are you up so early?" Elliot enunciates every word, so they can register in the teen's brain.
"Me and some friends are going to hang out at the mall, go to the cinema," he says, eyes shifting from Elliot to Bernie and back again. "And I agreed I would study with Sarah for our test next week too."
"Isn't it nice how diligent Eli is about his homework?" Kathleen coos, jumping back into the conversation as she attempts to direct Bernie up from the table and towards getting her jacket. "Or maybe he just thinks Sarah is cute."
Eli's awake enough to react to the teasing, and his grumpy explanation about how Sarah is 'Just A Friend' has Elliot smiling, before a knock at the door interrupts the flow of conversation.
"No no, don't worry…" he mutters, when no one else makes any indication of moving. "I'll just go answer it myself then."
He shuffles down the corridor, silently bemoaning the fact he hasn't even managed to get a cup of coffee yet, whilst also running through his mind who could be knocking. He's just settled on 'one of my children who has forgotten their key', when he swings open the door to find a person he hadn't even thought to expect.
"Hi!" Olivia says, waving her hand slightly.
"Hi?" he replies, but it comes out more as a question than a greeting because his brain is still trying to catch up with the fact that Olivia Benson is standing on his doorstep early on a Saturday morning, smiling up at him.
When he doesn't react further, she glances around quickly.
"Oh, is Maureen not here yet?" she asks as if that would explain everything.
"Maureen?" he echoes because he knows full well that Maureen is not about to show up. She's not even in the city — after finding out she was pregnant again, her, Carl, and the boys had gone away for a short holiday before their lives descended into the chaos that always comes with welcoming a new family member. So no, Maureen is not there yet because she's actually several hundred miles away.
His silence is making it awkward now, and he opens his mouth to say…something, when Liv beats him to it.
"Maureen asked me to come over and help her sort out a few boxes. Something about digging out old baby clothes and toys that she could use again? She said you'd be out, else I would have mentioned it, but…Well, nice to see you anyway."
It's unlike Maureen to forget about something as important as spending time with Liv, and there's a tiny voice in the back of his mind telling him that this whole morning has seemed slightly strange. But Olivia is looking the most relaxed and carefree that he's seen since his return, her face make-up free and devoid of the usual dark rings under her eyes, her lips quirked in a small smile. She's dressed casually too, in jeans that hug her figure wonderfully, a white t-shirt that promises to be soft to the touch if he dared reach out, and her hair pulled carelessly into a ponytail. There's something about this version of Liv that he desperately doesn't want to miss. Perhaps it's her outfit, which reminds him of their past in a way her stern blazers do not, or perhaps it's because she's exuding a relaxed air rather than having the weight of the world on her shoulders for once.
So, instead of simply telling her Maureen must have gotten the days mixed up, he breaks out a smile, stepping aside and ushering her forward.
"Sorry, haven't managed my first coffee of the morning yet," he excuses himself, his hand landing on the small of her back as he welcomes her into his home, and he was right — the t-shirt is just as soft as he had expected, even more so with the warmth of her skin radiating through the thin material. "Nice to see you Liv, been a while."
"Yeah, sorry about that," she says, but it's his fault as much as it's hers, so he waves away her words. "Elliot Stabler before his morning coffee? I didn't sign up for such a dangerous mission when I came here."
The teasing tone in her voice makes him want to keep all her attention on himself, to bask in the glory that is Liv at her cheeriest, the Liv who makes slightly inappropriate jokes and rolls her eyes at authority, who gives as good as she gets, the best partner in crime (or against crime) that he could ask for. He's not sure how much of that mischievous spark she still has, considering now she is the authority, but he knows her well enough to assume it's still there, no matter how old they get or how many years have passed, a fundamental part of her personality.
Unfortunately, he's unable to monopolize her time at all, because Bernie immediately pops her head around the kitchen door and greets Liv with a beaming smile.
"Olivia, dear! So nice to see you! Come in, come in."
"Hi, Liv!" Kathleen interjects, her own face appearing just above her grandmother's shoulder. Neither look surprised to see her, which makes Elliot wonder about what other conversations go on amongst his family without his knowledge.
"Hi, Bernie, Kathleen…Hi, Eli," Liv says, and Elliot can't help but hover right at her back, his hand no longer touching her, but unwilling to step away in case she suddenly disappears as quickly as she'd arrived on this strange Saturday morning. "I'm here to help Maureen with some unpacking. Trying to find some old baby items and get ready for your new niece or nephew."
Kathleen puts a hand up to her cheek, a shocked expression dawning.
"Oh, I'm so sorry Liv, she must have forgotten to tell you! Her and Carl took the boys away on a trip — short notice, you know, but soon she'll be unable to travel so easily so I guess they wanted to give Kieran and Seamus a fun vacation before their new sibling arrives."
"Ah," Liv says, and she steps back slightly, bumping into Elliot's chest as he realizes just how close he's truly standing. He doesn't move away, and she doesn't shift forward again, her muscles relaxing at their point of contact. "Sorry, in that case, I'm intruding on your Saturday for nothing."
"You aren't intruding," he says firmly, just as Kathleen shakes her head vigorously from side to side.
"Of course, you aren't intruding, Liv. In fact, Dad was just about to go sort those very boxes Maureen was talking about, so it would probably be reeeally useful if you stayed and found the things you and she had been discussing. I'd help, but Grandma B and I are going out in just a minute."
Bernie is bobbing her chin up and down in agreement.
"Yes, a very important appointment," she announces, and Elliot tries to remember exactly what appointment it's supposed to be because he's sure she isn't seeing the doctor until next week and wasn't Kathleen only taking her on a shopping trip? "Olivia, I'm sure Elliot would be delighted to have you help him too…You were always good at keeping him on track, no? We really need that closet sorted."
Elliot is now convinced that his mother and daughter are up to something, scheming in a way that makes him uncomfortable about getting Liv accidentally involved. But conversely, he isn't about to say he doesn't want her help, not if it means spending time together.
"I'd love your company," he manages to say, and even those few honest words feel as if they are revealing a little too much of his heart. "But I don't want to keep you if you're busy, or if you have Noah waiting, or you want to do anything else with your day off…"
He's giving her an out, but she turns and raises an eyebrow at him instead.
"Well, I'm not sure I was ever successful at keeping him on track," she tells his mother, her voice light. "More like, we both ran down the same side-track together at full speed. But considering I had planned to dig through boxes this morning anyway, I'm more than happy to help."
Elliot watches his mother grasp onto Liv's shoulders, pulling her closer to give a light kiss on each cheek, and he can't help but smirk when Liv sends him a slightly alarmed glance at the amount of affection Bernie is sending her way.
"Elliot, have some manners and show your lovely partner where everything is then," Bernie enthusiastically gestures onwards, and there's a sudden flurry of activity as his mother and daughter herd them towards Bernie's bedroom, where the aforementioned boxes reside. He hasn't even had a chance to check with Liv to see if she needs a drink, or if she's truly sure she wants to do such a menial task on her day off, but it feels as if he doesn't have a chance to even blink before they are both standing in front of the large wooden doors.
"Sorry," he says, not quite sure what he's apologizing for — perhaps the peculiar way in which his family appears to be behaving this morning, but she ignores his words anyway in favor of flinging open the doors and peering at the mess inside.
"Maureen wasn't joking when she said there was a lot to sort," she muses, and then jerks her chin towards him. "Come on El, what are you standing around for? Let's get sorting."
It feels slightly surreal, lifting down boxes with Liv by his side, and he's frantically running through long-ago memories to try and figure out what each one contains, just in case there are some filled with embarrassing items that he'd rather she not see. They work in silence for a short while, his tongue tied with all the things he wants to say, and yet doesn't want to say.
The Elliot Stabler who lived the life now packed away in this closet…he would have found the words. Back then, there was no such thing as awkward small talk with Liv. There were daily discussions, of course, on the most random topics, especially when they were trying to procrastinate over their paperwork, or feeling bored during long stakeouts. But there was never any awkwardness, not even after their more painful, personal fights, because back then they were in sync with each other, following a dance only the two of them knew.
It's something he wishes he could have again, a deep ache in his chest for that easy camaraderie and inexplicable ability to read each other without resorting to words. Now more than ever it burns, because he's had a taste of it when they were rescuing Santos' daughter — that instinct on the job, knowing how she'll react and where she'll be at all times, trusting his back is protected at all times. Professionally, it's almost as if he'd never left, with them slipping easily into the role of being each other's partner.
On a personal level, however, too many minefields and unspoken issues remain, and he's unsure how to even begin navigating the tricky route into openly communicating with Liv again. He knows he owes her more of an explanation as to why he left, and what he's done over these past ten years, just as he's aware that she's alluded to things happening to her over the decade, and not all of it will be as nice as Noah being born. He wants to encourage her to talk to him but doesn't want to push her, just as he knows she deserves his explanations, yet wishes to avoid talking about himself so much as to seem self-centered, considering all of his personal problems they've faced together recently. Instead, he just remains frozen in indecision, eyes darting sideways every couple of seconds to watch Liv categorizing boxes into different piles.
"Here are some snacks to help fuel your progress," Bernie interrupts his thoughts as she bustles into the room carrying a tray laden down with food and drinks. "Elliot didn't even have breakfast, and we don't want him getting grumpy with low sugar now!"
Liv immediately takes the tray from her hands, thanking her politely, and Elliot isn't sure why his mother thinks they need a veritable feast just for sorting out the closet.
"You're being very quiet in here," Bernie observes, hands on hips. "Anyway, I'm off to have a nice day of shopping with my granddaughter, so you kids behave."
And like that she's gone from the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.
Liv snorts.
"I haven't been called a 'kid' in a very long time," she says ruefully, blowing a puff of air upwards to push a strand of hair out of her face.
"Unfortunately, she calls me that quite often," he jokes. "Including one time in front of Bell and Jet, who were delighted."
He's rewarded with a genuine laugh from Liv, and this time when they start shifting items around, the atmosphere is more relaxed.
"Sorry about Maureen," he adds after a minute. "I'm sure she'd usually never forget organizing something like this with you. The holiday was a last-minute decision, and with the pregnancy and everything…must have slipped her mind. Was nice of you to agree to support her though."
Liv shoots a small smile his way.
"I was happy to help," she offers. "I figured it must be difficult, the first pregnancy without Kathy here. We've actually been having weekly 'tea' catch-ups for a while."
He nods, fully aware of the sadness his daughter must be feeling, but quietly relieved that she's reached out for Liv's help in the meantime.
"Thanks for being there, as always," he says.
She comes to stand next to him then, her shoulder nudging his slightly as she acknowledges his words, and then they both stare down at the box in front of him, covered in dust and tape.
"Time to open some and get sorting?" she asks, and he hums in agreement.
"Let me go get a knife to cut them open…quicker that way," he offers, more to protect her own skin against the adhesive than his, and he strides to the door, yanking on the door handle automatically.
It doesn't budge.
"Getting too old to open a door?" Liv teases from behind him, and he pulls on the handle again.
"It must be stuck somehow?" he reasons, releasing his hold only when she approaches and slips her own fingers over the handle to try a short tug.
"Feels more as if it's locked," she says, rattling it up and down for a minute. "Could it have happened accidentally?"
"It's never happened before," he begins, and then his voice trails away, as he starts to add up some of the unusual behavior over the morning. When it registers, he curses under his breath.
"El?"
"This is the only room in the house with a lock on it, besides the bathroom," he says slowly. "I think because it's supposed to be the master bedroom. And I'm pretty sure it can't lock on its own, but the only key is generally hidden away because I don't want Mama to get confused and locked into the room by herself."
"And who knows where the key is kept?" Liv asks, a strange tone to her voice.
He reflects for a minute and then bangs a fist against the door.
"Must have been Kathleen," he realizes and then hits the door several more times. There's no sound from the other side, and he has a horrible feeling there was a reason all three of his family members had decided to escape early this morning. "I think they set us up somehow."
No amount of rattling the door handle achieves freedom, and so he rams his shoulder hard against the door instead. Immediately, a sharp pain lances through him, causing him to gasp and stumble backward, clutching his arm.
"Hey, you alright?" Liv's hands are already touching his shoulder gently as she checks him over, and he doesn't find the strength to pull away.
"Yeah, just forgot I was carrying some bruises from the job," he admits, wincing as she touches a particularly sore spot. He glances down, and it's only because she's now standing so close to him that he notices how pale her own face has become, her fingers trembling slightly in their investigation. "Are you alright?"
Her movements still, palm flattened against his shoulder, and he slowly raises his own hand to cover hers while he waits for her response. She keeps her gaze low, staring at his chest rather than into his eyes.
"Sorry, I'm just not a fan of having my exit route blocked," she admits after a pause. "I get claustrophobic sometimes, and I can't really predict when it'll hit me."
In all their years working together, Liv had never shown any signs of claustrophobia, so he knows this is a more recent issue — and with that knowledge, comes a fear of what may have caused it. He's smart enough not to ask though, not now, so he simply continues to anchor her in place, his fingers tightening their grip, and he attempts to breathe at a steady pace in the hope that she'll follow his lead.
"Anything I can do to help?" he asks quietly instead, and she shakes her head. He takes it as a sign to just remain as they are, standing still for a moment while she adjusts. Finally, she lets out a deep sigh and steps back.
"Sorry, it's fine now," she says, and he's sad to see her carefree mood from earlier has dissipated. His family is going to be in serious trouble.
"Don't worry, I'll just break the door down," he promises, gearing up to attempt this time to kick the door, but she stops him with a hand on his forearm.
"No need to cause more damage to your house," she argues. "I'm fine, I promise. And it's not as if your family plans to leave us here forever. Why don't you just try calling one of them?"
He hunts around in his pocket for his cell phone, thankful for the fact he has his personal one shoved into a pocket and not left somewhere like the kitchen table, and tries dialing Kathleen first. The phone rings and rings until her voicemail kicks in, and so he then tries Bernie. No response.
He cycles through all of his children — Eli, Lizzie, Dickie, even Maureen despite knowing she's too far away to help. He has a sense now that her conveniently 'forgetting' to meet up with Olivia may actually be part of the whole setup, and he's less than pleased that even his eldest, supposedly most sensible child has been pulled into a plot no doubt instigated either by Bernie or Kathleen.
And what were they even thinking? That locking him and Liv in a room would result in them passionately making out? Not that he wouldn't enjoy that in his future, but right now they're more likely to get annoyed about being locked away in a room, than having any meaningful conversation. He isn't even sure Liv wants any of that.
Finally, he turns to the family group chat on his phone, texting out a demand that one of the kids responds to his call. And considering some of them practically live with a phone in their hand, he's finding it rather difficult to believe none of them are seeing his messages.
Eventually, he gives up and shoves his phone back in his pocket, rolling his neck around to relieve the tension.
"Appears as if all my family are magically out of contact right now," he says. "Maybe they'd answer if you called?"
"I doubt it," Liv says dryly, her arms crossed as she watches him. "I'm guessing this whole thing has been a setup from the start, so they won't back down now after all of this ridiculous planning to get us locked in the same room."
There's no chair in Bernie's bedroom, so they both perch awkwardly on the edge of her bed, staring at the locked door in contemplation.
"Noah?" he asks, pondering how long Liv has before she needs to be back with her son.
"At a sleepover for the weekend," she says, understanding what he's really trying to find out. "Don't worry, this little interlude isn't keeping me from anything."
They resume staring at the door for a moment, and Elliot is about to suggest kicking it down again, when Liv stands up, a business-like set to her shoulders, and reaches out towards him.
"Come one," she says, and they grasp onto each other's wrists as she pulls him upright. "If we're to be stuck here for a while, looks like we have a task to do, and food to keep us going. May as well try to achieve something."
There's something about Liv being in charge that he's always enjoyed watching, although he certainly isn't about to speculate why, and he follows her without complaint as she sets her Captain persona into tackling the mountain of boxes they haven't even begun to sort. He tears open the first one without too much difficulty, and they kneel side by side to dig around in the contents, unearthing a mix of old books and an assortment of random items that had previously adorned his living room all those years ago. It's almost a shock to see them again, relics of the past that he'd forgotten about until they're right in front of his eyes.
"Shall we make 'keep', 'donate', and 'maybe' piles?" Liv asks, hands already nimbly pulling out some of the items and unwrapping the ones covered by bubble wrap. "What about this?"
It's an unremarkable dish, which he vaguely remembers sitting on a bookshelf somewhere, but can't recall where it's from or why they owned it in the first place.
"Donate," he says firmly, and it's the first of many items he begins piling up for donation, moving swiftly through three boxes without any emotional need to hold on to much of the content within. It's a liberating feeling, clearing out his history in such a relaxed manner, that he can barely remember why he was so reluctant to do so before. There are no painful memories here, just mostly useless junk that was left behind in the States for a reason when they moved house — heavy books that probably won't be reread, old clothes that are wildly out of fashion now, and ancient technology that Eli would be aghast to see. Liv is having great fun teasing him about half the things they dig out, and the fact that he is rooting around in his own history with her by his side makes everything instantly easier.
"I know this is probably not what you really wanted to do on your day off," he says once they've placed aside a shirt which seems small enough that his arm muscles would rip the sleeves if he tried it on now. "But if I had to be locked in a room with anyone, I'm glad it's you."
Liv chuckles, the deep sound reverberating through his chest as he watches her smile.
"It's not like it's any different to being locked in a car with you for eight hours," she muses. "But yeah, you were always my best stakeout partner, you know."
"Did you have many other stakeout partners after me?" he asks, immediately regretting the words but unable to stop the spark of jealousy that burns through him.
Liv shoots him an unimpressed look.
"You know the job...stakeouts happen with a lot of people," she says nonchalantly. "If you're asking if I had any other partners after you, then yes, I did. His name was Nick Amaro. Was a great guy, good partner."
Elliot realizes he's paused all activity, hands buried in a box as he watches her face.
"And?" he says, able to read her well enough to know there are things unsaid.
"And he wasn't you, El. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Liv drops the book she's clutching, leaning back with frustration across her face. "What do you want me to say? You were the most important person in my life, and maybe it was unfair of me to place you in that position, knowing you had a wife and children and so many other responsibilities before me. But you were who I had, and no partner after that could take your place."
They're both surprised by her outburst, and Elliot can practically see her inner walls start to form around the otherwise causal 'Liv not Captain Benson' mood that she'd been enjoying all morning.
"I wanted to be," he blurts out, reaching out so his fingers hover above her forearm as she goes to pick up the book again. She pauses, sending him an unreadable look, but he's willing to be uncomfortably honest with her if only it means she goes back to being happy. "I wanted to be that person for you. It made me feel honored to play such an important role in your life, and I always felt jealous when I thought you'd placed someone else into that spot instead."
Liv doesn't respond, holding the book out for him to read the cover.
"Keep, donate, or maybe?" she asks, a small smile back on her face, and he's both relieved that the moment of tension is over, whilst slightly disappointed that she clearly doesn't want to tackle any of the more difficult conversations between the two of them. He may be severely annoyed at his family right now, but they're correct in one thing — that him and Liv being locked in a room together for a while is giving more opportunity to talk than they've had in the whole time he's been back.
He respects her lead however, pulling the book slowly out of her hands with a barely-there brush of fingers against her skin.
"Donate," he says, his tone challenging, as if the fact he is donating most of his past means something significant, although not even he could define what.
They work in tandem for a while longer, before Liv surprises him yet again.
"The claustrophobia…" she starts and then stops. "I went through a difficult time a few years ago. And I really do want to tell you about it, but not today. Today I'm in a good mood, despite being locked in a room by your mother, and I don't want to have to bring up that point of the past right now. I prefer these memories here."
She waves yet another old work shirt in his direction, and he nods in understanding.
"I'd like to hear what you have to say," he tells her sincerely, and while his mind is now racing with possibilities, each one worse than the last as he tries to imagine what a 'difficult time' means, he's willing to go at whatever pace she needs. "I want to learn all about your life. But we'll do it whenever you want."
"How about you come to my home on Tuesday after work?" she says. "We'll have dinner, and we'll talk."
"Olivia, my friend, I would like that very much."
He feels his cheek warm slightly, and he'd be more embarrassed about blushing except he can see Liv's cheeks have their own flush.
"And Noah?" he asks, curious as to whether she'll let him spend time with her son now, or if that carefully placed barrier is still in place.
"I'd like you to meet him properly," she reassures him. "For longer than a brief minute in the street. But he won't be there that evening, which is probably for the best all things considered. Staying over at Amanda's to spend time with the girls. I swear, he has a busier social schedule than I ever have."
It's a fitting topic because as he's laughing over that thought, he opens yet another box to find old children's stuffed toys and baby clothes.
"Ah, this must have been what Maureen was looking for," Liv says, pulling out a tiny onesie and holding it up. Elliot can't help the ache in his chest, realizing he's missed all those years of her finally being a mother and having her own child, just as she always wished.
"It's nice of you to step up and be there for Mo," he echoes his earlier thoughts, despite knowing this particular request from his daughter to Liv came with a room-locking agenda. "I do think it'll be difficult for her without Kathy around, and having your support I'm sure will help."
"In some odd way, I can imagine some of what she's going through," Liv admits, and putting aside the fact his family conspired against him, Elliot is actually enjoying this peaceful Saturday, these quiet confessional moments they appear to have found themselves sharing. "When I first brought Noah home, there were nights where I wished Serena was still around, just so I could ask her for advice. And it's not as if I would have trusted her advice anyway, considering how she raised me. Just…I suppose I missed having a mother around when I became one, even though she'd been gone for years at that point, so I can only imagine what it's like for Maureen."
Elliot can picture it now — Liv holding a tiny baby in her arms, desperate to be the best mother possible, learning everything there is to know about parenthood.
"I bet Cragen wanted you on nothing but desk duty during the pregnancy," he notes with a smile, but her startled expression makes him second guess, and he tries to do the approximate math in his mind. "Or was he already retired by then?"
"He was…" she begins, bringing up a hand as if to run it through her hair, before realizing she still has it in a ponytail. "Thing is, there was no pregnancy. Noah's adopted, El."
The first thing he feels is relief, as the faceless, nameless man in his mind he's been trying to envision for all these months as the father of Liv's child is wiped away.
The next thing he feels is deep shame, because he shouldn't be relieved that Liv didn't have her child with a loving partner, just to satisfy his own jealousy.
"That's…I didn't know," he admits, and he can see Liv smiling at him.
"Clearly," she says. "Jesus, your face went through a whole journey there."
He rubs the back of his neck self-consciously, trying to figure out how best to respond.
"I'm really glad you have him," he says eventually. "I told you they were wrong. I knew you were an amazing mom before I ever met Noah, and he looks like a great kid, from the brief moment we spent together."
It seems to be the perfect thing to say, because Liv's expression breaks out into a sunny smile as she thinks about her son.
"He really is," she agrees and then pushes the entire box across to him. "We should put all of this aside — Maureen can decide what she wants to keep or donate. Unless there's certain baby things you want to keep for sentimental reasons?"
He already knows he's put aside a few things from Eli's childhood, so he shakes his head, willing to let Maureen have the final say on these. Liv is dragging the next box over, on a roll as she kneels beside it and rips off the tape. But when she unfolds the top open and glances inside, she freezes, and then sinks back onto her heels.
"Oh," she says, and Elliot is concerned about its contents, shuffling forward to sit directly next to her and take a look himself.
Oh indeed.
On the top, there are a stack of old photographs, some loose and some in frames, but all with Liv and himself as the key central figures. He can already recall the rest of the items and is ashamed he didn't remember to hide it away from Liv before she discovered it.
Liv pulls out one of the framed photos, her fingers trailing over the glass as she absorbs the image. It's black and white, taken at an event from so long ago he can't even remember why they were there. It was during a brief phase of him attempting a goatee that didn't work as well as his facial hair from more recent years, and he's gazing off into the distance whilst a short-haired, smiling Liv has her arm thrown casually around his shoulder. He watches her place it to one side and then gently pick up the next frame.
This was always one of his most treasured photographs, taken in their first year working together. They're standing outside, the sun shining on them, and he's leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek, her face scrunched up but sporting a large smile. They're in their thirties in this photograph, but it seems a lifetime ago to Elliot, back when they were young and full of optimism. Just looking at the image has always made him smile, and it's doing the same for Liv now, as she revisits her own memories.
"Are these..?" she begins to question, and he interrupts her before she finishes.
"From the case where we pretended to be married?" he guesses her question. "Yeah, I stole the frames from the locker once we were done…they were going to be thrown out otherwise. Some of the other pictures I just liked to have."
And there are indeed a lot of photographs. There's one of them hugging each other closely, dressed in formal clothes from some policing black tie event, Olivia's hair done up in cute curls; another with him wearing a white t-shirt whilst Liv adorns black, captured at a retirement party for a detective long since gone from memory as they both smile sweetly at the camera. Yet another has them standing in a park together, the bright yellow of autumnal leaves shining behind their heads, taken so Munch could try out his new camera.
Liv looks at them all one by one, and then shuffles through the loose photographs. He had forgotten just how many there were, from different social events, for undercover missions, or because Munch enjoyed annoying people with a camera…Elliot can remember the day he packed up this box, how grateful he had been to have tangible images of his partnership with Liv, unsure if he would ever be with her again in person, and how he hadn't wanted Kathy to see. They had been too painful to take with him to Italy, but it had been even more painful to think of destroying them.
Underneath, there are additional trinkets from the office.
A nondescript plain mug, which looks like nothing special and yet had been a favorite for him to use because Liv had bought it cheap at a gas station once on a very long stakeout, wanting to share his thermos of soup. She had gifted it to him afterward, a cheeky smile on her face as she told him it was 'payment for the fuel'.
A red scarf which may or may not have originally belonged to Liv also, except they had been on duty one evening, going around knocking on door after door, and he had been so cold he was shivering in his large winter coat. She had sighed at his dramatic reaction, stomping back to their car to reach into the glove compartment, and had thrown the scarf at his face, already wrapped in a blue one of her own.
A stack of yellowing post-it notes, curling at the edges and filled with handwritten messages. "Cptn on warpath, hide in the crib and save yourself"; "Melinda came back with results + I was right. You owe me coffee"; "Lizzie called - dentist appointment at 3. Don't forget!"; "Gone for lunch, will get your usual"; "Munch has new theory on aliens, warning: don't engage, you don't want to know". Note after note, words scribbled down in messy handwriting, a whole narrative of their partnership over the years.
A mini fake Christmas tree that they used to sit on their shared desks; a card that they would exchange back and forth on birthdays, filling it up with cheesy or rude messages to each other; a poorly-made medal that they'd won at a department sports event. The keepsakes go on and on, and Elliot knows the simple fact he's clung to these objects all these years should tell Liv something.
"None of this was in your desk drawer," she says instead, and he tilts his head at her in confusion. "Cragen made me empty out your desk when you left, and obviously none of this was left."
"No," he admits slowly. "Most of this stuff I took home when we switched precinct buildings, and I just…kept it."
Liv is still searching through the box, discovering memory after memory, and he observes her expression closely.
"Why didn't you throw most of it out when you left?" she asks, a post-it note held tightly in her hand — a simple message reading "Finished your paperwork, you owe me. See you Monday!"
He doesn't want to answer that question; in fact, feels she should already know what he's thinking, and she's simply torturing him by making him say it out loud. But one look at her face, and he knows she truly isn't aware.
"Because I was in love with you," he confesses, and considering how difficult he had found speaking to her at the beginning of this morning, the words come far easier now than he had expected. "I am in love with you. And that's why I left without saying goodbye."
It's the most terrifying thing he's ever done, and he's the bravest he's ever been, as he waits for her response, for once knowing that she can't change the subject or disappear without a word.
"In love with me?" she questions, and he can see her grip tighten even more on the small piece of paper.
"Yes," he says, gently but firmly. "It's what I've been trying to tell you for a while now. I just…said it very poorly before."
"You mean, when you blurted it out in front of your children at an intervention?" she challenges, and he can't help but grimace slightly.
"As I said…not my finest attempt," he admits. "But I meant it then, and I mean it now."
His words may have just ruined 23 years of partnership and friendship and something deeper; or perhaps he's made a tentative step towards everything he could hope for right now. All he can do is watch as she lies the note back in the box, gently flattening out the creases she had made, and await her judgment.
She still doesn't say anything, turning slightly so that they're face to face, two grown adults sitting on the floor and staring at each other closely. His breath is frozen in his chest, not daring to move as her hand reaches out, fingers resting on his cheek as she cradles the side of his face.
"El," she whispers, and then her lips are on his, kissing him hard but also a little desperately, the momentum drawing him forwards until he clutches tightly onto her waist. As soon as his brain realizes what is happening, he rises up on his knees, bringing her with him so he can pull her close against his chest, one arm wrapped around her back whilst his other hand gently tugs on her ponytail until her hair tumbles down and he can sink his fingers into the strands.
When they break apart, they're both breathing heavily, and he rests his forehead against hers for a while before he can sense her start to shift away.
Whatever reaction he's expecting to see in her face, it's not the slight giggle she lets out, her nose scrunching up in amusement, and when he raises an eyebrow, she just shrugs.
"Amanda suggested we find a room and 'get it out of our systems'," she explains, and his eyes widen in surprise because he didn't even know Amanda Rollins approved of him in any way, let alone to the point where she's advocating for Liv to enjoy a fling with him.
"I hope you know, I'm not planning on getting it out of my system, ever," he tells hers, silencing her laughter with another kiss.
"I'm glad we're on the same page," Liv says breathlessly when they part once more. "But I was mainly thinking…well, I don't imagine Rollins meant your mother's bedroom when she suggested we find a room."
Elliot looks around and groans slightly. They're actually in the house alone, and he has Liv in his arms for the first time in 23 years, yet she's correct — being in his mother's room makes it infinitely more awkward.
"Shit, you're right," he says, collapsing backward and bringing her down with him in an ungraceful manner until they are both lying on the carpeted floor. Liv lets out a sound of discomfort as she stretches her legs out, one arm flung over his chest.
"I'm too old to have been kneeling for that long," she mutters, wiggling around slightly until she makes herself comfortable again.
She might be sensing her age, but he's feeling almost like a teenager again, lying on the floor in the family home with a beautiful woman in his arms, heart beating too fast in excitement and awe.
"Hi," Liv says, and she's suddenly peering down at him, propped up on an elbow. "I'm a Captain of the NYPD. You're a Detective. I figure at this point, we can probably figure out a way to escape this room without destroying the bedroom door, and then go find privacy elsewhere."
They still have so much to talk about and work through together. But she's currently smiling at him brightly, they have time set aside on Tuesday because she really does want to share her vulnerabilities, and he knows she wants him to spend time with Noah, the most important person in her life. For once, he is optimistic about their future.
"Deal," he tells her, rolling her off his chest before hauling himself to his feet. He reaches down, pulling her up to stand beside him. "Let's break out of this joint."
She doesn't let go of his hand as they approach the door once more.
"So," she says as he inspects the lock. "Are you going to admit to your family that their pitiful attempt at making us talk actually worked out?"
"Not at all," he growls. "They're all still in deep trouble."