Prompt #46: "Noah wants to be a carrot for Halloween. You know anything about that?"
The Carrot
~oOo~
"Is that you, El?" the boy asks.
Bernie sits in the garden sipping her tea as she watches her son and Noah flip through the pages of the album.
These days, memory is fickle. At times, it's the antique cup in her hand—solid, detailed, and rich with color, a relic withstanding the tests of age. But then, without warning, it's the one that slips from her grasp, shattering on the concrete; she searches for every piece, trying to make sense of what once had been.
This afternoon, though, it's the tea. It warms her, soothing every ache as pictures of the past fill her vision.
She sees Elliot as a child holding her hand as they walked through the store, letting go for just a moment to reach toward the fabric.
"This one, Mama."
She sees his partner, a dozen or so years ago, at a table by the ocean.
"He's a carrot."
Suddenly, her mind starts to paint the scene in front of her, Noah and Elliot sharing a bench on the patio. Everything that came before grows fuzzy and there's only this—two figures, two pairs of eyes, one shade of blue.
They fill the space around them like a tree and sapling rooted in the same earth, the elder carrying a silent promise to shield the younger from any passing storm.
"That's me," her son laughs softly, tracing a square around the photo.
Something orange, Bernie thinks as she leaves her memories.
The boy smiles.
She makes a new one.
~oOo~
At the kitchen counter, Elliot recalls one of the happier scenes from his childhood—falling asleep in the car on the way home from the beach house and waking up in a warm bed in Queens, wondering how he arrived.
It's the same feeling that rushes through him now, a sense of disbelief and comfort and home.
He tries to absorb the journey, grounding himself in what he knows, the turns he's taken, the route from Long Island City to Kathleen's apartment. He knows the sound of Bernie by his side and Noah in the backseat, their two voices humming along with the radio, coaxing him to join them for a chorus or two. He knows the look in his mother's eyes as she gives the boy a hug goodbye, the silent glance that tells him, you belong. And he knows the roads to Olivia's building. The walk by the glass windows. The doorman who greets him, along with Noah, by name. He knows the ride up the elevator. The hallway where he once stumbled. The door where he knocked and the key that now opens it.
Still, it strikes him—the fact that this, today, is his life. He considers all the times he's been beside himself in the past, stepping backward to witness his reality, anguish wrestling his body and soul. But in Olivia's apartment, he lets himself retreat, just a little, to watch happiness unfold instead.
He clears the table, three plates in hand, as Noah finishes a story about winning a cartwheel contest at recess.
Olivia smiles as she takes the last sip of her partner's coffee.
And Elliot starts washing the dishes, beside himself with joy.
They've only been dating for two months, though dating feels like an understatement. Ever since her lips brushed his for the first time, huddled under an umbrella as a late August storm passed overhead, it's been a whirlwind of firsts. A candlelit dinner, a Saturday in bed, soft "I love yous" as she wrapped her arms around him and he made her breakfast at 3pm. A drive together to pick Noah up from dance camp. Labor Day with the Stablers. Empty drawers for each other's clothes. Disclosures at 1PP. Occasional glances at real estate listings. Still, they struggle with a word for it, the perfect combination of letters to describe the totality of them. For now, partner will do.
It's getting close to Noah's bedtime and Elliot finds himself falling into their routine. He helps review the checklist for the morning—backpack, a charged Chromebook, and a trifold poster presentation on the phases of the moon.
"Night, El," the boy chimes on his way to brush his teeth. He starts toward the bathroom, hesitating with another thought before he turns, adding, "Thanks for today."
Elliot's voice catches as he tries to respond, words escaping him.
Something had shifted over the course of the afternoon; he had put Noah in charge of making plans that day while Olivia finished paperwork at the precinct, imagining that he would have asked for a trip to the theatre or a few hours of arcade games and ice cream sundaes. It had come as a surprise, then, when Noah had asked for a visit with Bernie, having only met her at the Labor Day party.
"I like her stories," Noah had explained, and an hour later, the three of them had made their way onto the patio after a quick stop at the bakery, swapping tales between bites of Bernie's favorite pumpkin pie. Elliot had apologized for the state of the garden, a tangle of weeds and exercise equipment, a few pieces of mismatched furniture pulled from storage.
"I don't know, Elliot," Bernie had mused, scanning the landscape in front of her. "Maybe all it needs is a set of fresh eyes. What do you think, Noah? What would you do with it?"
"It's not so bad," Noah had offered, pacing across the broken concrete, eyeing every inch of the space. "Just needs a little clean-up." He had stopped in the center, his imagination landing on an idea. "And a big table. Right here in the middle. You know, for dinners with your family and stuff."
Noah had looked up at Elliot, searching for an answer to an unspoken question. Patting the boy on the shoulder, Elliot had returned—
"So a table for twelve, right?"
"I think so," Noah had started, a slow grin forming as he counted the faces in his head—
Bernie, of course.
Maureen and Carl. Kieran and Seamus.
Kathleen. Lizzie. Dickie. Eli.
Elliot and Mom, side by side.
And rounding out the dozen, himself.
"Yeah," he had whispered. "Table for twelve."
~oOo~
"Noah wants to be a carrot for Halloween. You know anything about that?"
The dishes are done and Noah's asleep; Olivia and Elliot are cuddled together on the couch, catching up on the day.
"Ah," Elliot replies, still chuckling at Noah's surprised look as he spotted a familiar face sandwiched between a puffy orange triangle and a hat of leafy greens. "I might."
They've never really talked about it, Olivia's visit to Bernie all those years before. Still, Elliot's learned enough from Kathleen and his mother to have put the pieces together. He holds her closer, pressing a kiss to her neck, and they can feel themselves remembering. They're transported back to a day at the courthouse, his confusion, her gentle smirk—
"Maybe God remembered how cute you were as a carrot."
It's a chapter in their partnership that Elliot's been revisiting lately, those years before his absence when he and Olivia had settled so deeply into the comfort of the other, tethered by a nameless love that transcended any vow. He should have seen it then, he should have—
Olivia touches his face, reading him.
"Shh," she hushes, quieting the thoughts she somehow knows are starting to spiral inside his head. She brings him back, weaving their hands together. "He's already got a dragon costume anyway."
"Of course," Elliot remembers. "Glow-in-the-dark scales, right?
"Won't be able to miss him," she responds, resting her head on his chest. They're quiet for a few moments; she's starting to drift off to sleep when she murmurs, "Come trick-or-treating with us, El."
"Yeah? And what should I be?"
She laughs, her eyes darting to his crisp white shirt, his head shining in the lamplight.
"Liv, I love you, but please don't say Mr. Clean."
~oOo~
It's Halloween and Olivia's got an eye on the clock. She's in a meeting with McGrath that's run ten minutes over and she can already picture Noah waiting for her at the apartment, Lucy applying the final touches to his face paint. Elliot's probably on his way—they've decided to start the night collecting candy in Olivia's building before taking a ride to his place for pizza and caramel apples with his grandsons.
She must admit her partner's been a little out of sorts for the past few days. On Saturday, he had canceled out on plans to meet up for brunch, and when she had surprised him with a Sunday afternoon visit while Noah was at a birthday party, he had kept her waiting in the hallway while he grabbed his keys and suggested an impromptu coffee date.
Sitting at the café, she had called him out on it.
"Coffee's great, El, but I, uh, thought we could have used a little…alone time."
He had breathed a heavy sigh, silently cursing himself for the awkward, bumbling way he had shuttled his girlfriend away from his apartment, ratting off his thoughts on the differences between French presses and pour overs.
"I'm sorry, Liv, I— I'm a very stupid man. I just…my place is a mess right now. That's all."
She had leaned in, her dark eyes penetrating, searching for the truth.
"You're hiding something, Detective Stabler." Brushing her thumb across his knuckles, she had added, "But your poker face is terrible and you're holding back a smile, so I trust that it's something good."
"It is. And as for today…I promise I'll make it up to you."
"Oh, you will," she had teased. "Captain's orders."
"Captain—" McGrath interjects, clearing his throat. "You with me?"
Olivia snaps back to the present. McGrath's been droning on and on about the upcoming police banquet, rattling off his strategy for schmoozing, and she's officially done.
"Chief," she returns, shaking her head. "I'm actually not. It's Halloween and—"
"Halloween?" he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Seriously? Never cared for the holiday myself. I—"
She plants her hands on her desk and stands, halting him mid-sentence with an unblinking glare.
"Chief," she begins. "It's Halloween and my son…and my partner…are waiting for me. I've missed Christmas and Mother's Day and the Fourth of July, and as hard as that is, I can make peace with it because what I needed to do on those days was important and necessary and lives were saved. But this, with all due respect, is not important or necessary. And right now, I'm going home."
She doesn't wait for him to respond; she simply gathers her things and sidesteps him on her way to the door, biting her lip as she hears him quietly mutter—
"Happy Halloween, Captain."
~oOo~
When Olivia starts to open the door to her apartment, she can already tell they're up to something. She hears three voices—Noah and Lucy excitedly chattering, seemingly scurrying away, while Elliot's tries to stall.
"I think Mom's home," he bellows, rather obviously. "Let me see if she needs any help."
She turns the doorknob and there he is—white shirt, white pants, white eyebrows, a plastic pumpkin bowl in his hands.
"You didn't—" Olivia starts, covering her mouth in shock and amusement.
"I sure did," Mr. Clean replies with a wink. "Trick-or-treat."
"I thought that was my line."
"Then what'll it be?"
"Treat," she decides, greeting him with a slow kiss as she wipes a streak of paint that's somehow drifted to his temple. "Where are Noah and Lucy?"
"In the bathroom, cleaning up. Noah tried to paint his hands, too, which didn't exactly work out according to plan. Sorry about your towels."
"I can't wait to see him," she responds, setting her bag down on the chair. "By the way," she continues, smoothing her hand over his abs, "I'm not sure how you accomplished looking ridiculous and incredibly hot at the same time, but nice work."
Just then, they hear footsteps in the hallway.
"Oh boy," Olivia says loudly, switching gears. "I think I hear a dragon in my house!"
"Not a dragon…" Noah responds, hiding around the corner before jumping out, revealing his costume.
Olivia can't believe it.
She breathes, "He's a carrot…"
Careful not to smudge his orange face on her shirt, Noah runs into his mother's arms wearing the same costume from the picture—the soft, slightly-worn fabric covering the plush carrot suit, a tall hat of dark green strands.
"Elliot, you really…"
"Mama Bernie keeps everything," he says softly, joining them in their hug. "We got it all cleaned up. She even showed me how to mend a few of the ripped seams."
"Isn't Elliot the best?" Noah exclaims, the leaves on his head shaking as he breaks away and runs to the door. "Come on, let's go!"
"One second, Noah, let's help Lucy before we—"
"That's okay, Liv. You go have fun and I'll lock up."
They offer their thanks and close the door as Noah skips ahead to the elevator, his bright green sneakers squeaking the whole way. Olivia and Elliot follow behind, arms linked, hearts full.
"I can't believe…" she begins before her eyes start brimming with tears. She turns to Elliot, speechless, memories flickering, in awe of the journey they've made.
"Anything for your boy, Liv," he responds, gently kissing her hair.
And for the first time, Olivia thinks—
Our boy.
~oOo~
By the time they pull up to Elliot's apartment, Noah's already worked through a third of his Halloween candy. It's the kind of thing Olivia would have tried to limit in the past, but lately, she's been in a carpe diem phase, making space for whims and unexpected joys. She lets the laundry go another day. She stays up for the late movie. She stops saving clothes for something special.
"They should be in the garden," Elliot mentions as the three of them walk toward the gate. Olivia remembers the first time she and Elliot had stood here, her hand on his face, wanting him to come home.
God, she thinks, he really has. In every way, he resides in her and she, in him, their lives merging like two rooms that had always been connected, the adjoining door finally removed.
Olivia can't quite see inside yet, but she can hear conversation buzzing, more of a crowd than she imagined. As Elliot places his hand on the iron handle, he whispers, "Noah, close your eyes." His gaze shifts to her. "You, too, Olivia. This was the, uh, mess I've been cleaning up."
Elliot places his hands on their shoulders as they shuffle in past the gate and everything grows quiet except for the sound of a few crickets and the late October breeze.
"Can I look?" Noah asks, taking a few more steps forward, noting the smooth, clean flagstone beneath his feet.
"Go ahead," Elliot replies, giving his partner's hand a squeeze.
They open their eyes and Olivia has to catch her breath at the sight of it—a garden adorned with orange twinkle lights and glowing jack-o-lanterns, the entire Stabler family welcoming them inside.
Noah looks up at his mother, then Elliot, a single tear running through his face paint as he points to the biggest surprise of all—
In the center of the patio, a table set for twelve.
And smiling, the carrot takes his place in the garden.
Note: The author of this SVU: Fall in Love story will be revealed in November