During their ten minutes alone together, lingering awkwardly in her office after their joint task force debriefing, Olivia gently peppered him with questions. She's asked about his kids, his mom, Eli's move to California and how he's handling it all, and each question is making him more frustrated. It's all perfunctory, bullshit, one-sided small talk. This was never them, and other than a few emotional moments here and there since his return, one hug, two handholds, and an electrifying touch to his face, she's been a vault.
Elliot has tried to ask more about Noah, her squad, becoming Captain Benson; he has genuinely tried to ask about what has happened to her in his absence. He's desperate to atone for the complete ass he was when he was obsessed with justice and avoidance, however, Olivia has politely but firmly rebuffed him each time with short, non-specific answers. Since her friendship (for now) declaration almost a year ago, he feels like they've slipped backward; at this point, he's pretty sure her newest detectives know more about her life than he does.
She owes him nothing.
He knows he's a selfish prick, but he's missed her. Missed them.
And he knows they'll never move forward if he doesn't push.
"Christ," he murmurs, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.
"What?" Olivia frowns, and he knows with one mumble he's shifted the mood from polite to problematic.
"You've been so careful, Liv," he barks, surprising himself with the accusatory sound of his voice. "You tiptoe around me whenever we're alone, you're compassionate and worried and so damn quiet. You still won't let me just take you out for a damn cup of coffee so we can actually talk."
The shock is palpable on her face, and for a split second, he notices a streak of fear in her eyes before she settles back into her calm façade and emits a resigned sigh.
"What do you want from me, Elliot?"
"I want you to yell at me. I've been back for two years, and you still haven't yelled at me. I just want to see you. I want to see the fire back in your eyes. I want to see my partner."
"You want a lot for someone who left me for ten years," she snaps, and immediately bites her bottom lip and looks at her shoes, holding herself back from saying more.
Elliot takes a few cautious steps forward, moving toward her seat on the couch, desperate to finally get somewhere. "You're right. I'm asking for the world. I'm asking for everything I don't deserve."
"Don't say that word."
"Deserve? Why not, Liv? It's true, I deserve nothing from you, except for your hate and contempt."
Her voice is a broken whisper as her eyes reluctantly meet his. "I could never hate you."
"There it is again. Stop, Liv. Stop being so fucking kind. Stop giving me chances and telling me you could never hate me when I know there were days that you did. God, don't you want to slap me? Knee me in the balls? Ask me what I was thinking, how could I abandon you?"
That does it. For the first time, he sees a flash of fire. He wants it and craves it. Needs to fan the flames of her fury. She stands now, eye to eye, flustered and ferocious.
"Elliot, I don't know what kind of fantasy you conjured up in your head about how your grand return to my life would play out, but I can guarantee you're not the fucking hero of my story."
The realization of what she loudly just poked at, what his return ultimately cost him, dawns on her the moment the words fly out of her mouth, and he sees the fear again as she retreats into her shell. She turns away, hand to her mouth, looking mortified and apologetic, but he abruptly stops her. This moment has nothing to do with Kathy.
"Keep going. Say what's on your mind, Liv. Tell me how you feel."
Olivia's stubborn and speechless, which pisses him off even more. Her silence is devastating and heartbreaking. He needs her to react. They both need this: the inferno, the ashes. If he's lucky, a phoenix will emerge- something new and beautiful and hopeful.
He keeps pushing, stepping dangerously close to her, voice even and low.
"So you're going to sit here and keep pretending that my return hasn't affected you? That I haven't pissed you off, that you would rather I never came back?"
Her voice returns, shaky but strong. "Stop-"
He steps even closer. "We're never going to revisit what you said? That I was the single most important person in your life?"
"Stop-"
"-Or that I love you. Are you just going to keep ignoring it? Because I mean it, Liv, I love you. I've always loved you, and-"
"Stop, El, please. Enough. You don't get to…"
She trails off, and Elliot can tell she's breaking, stifling a sob. He doesn't want to make her cry- God, he knows she's cried enough because of him- but he needs to make her see that they're worth it. It's worth setting fire to the hurt and pain once and for all.
So he gambles, taking steps to leave. It's a bluff, they both know it. One of their interrogation tactics- walk out, but not before delivering a final blow. He turns, and stubbornly waits until Olivia meets his eyes.
"I know you've never needed me, Liv, but could you at least treat me like a goddamned adult and stop avoiding me?"
He's turning the handle when he hears her storming behind him. She whips him around before he can give the door a pull.
"Avoiding you? You've got a lot of nerve, Elliot. You avoided me for a decade. Your wife wrote me a fucking letter because you still couldn't face me properly, You've spent most of your time back here avoiding your feelings, or fucking them out with sex traffickers. Should I go on?"
"Olivia, I want to talk to you about everything-"
"-And I needed you! I needed you after Jenna and Sister Peg. I needed you when I got promoted, I needed you when a judge handed me a baby boy and I was so scared and had no clue what I was doing. I needed you when I was tortured for days, and I needed you when I went willingly the second time and put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger to spare a little girl's suffering. Don't tell me what I fucking needed, Elliot."
Other than heaving chests, they are both remarkably still, face-to-face, the weight of what she's confessed permeating the air around them. The thick smoke of a decade missed, the kindling doused with lighter fluid. His eyes are too honest, his lack of expected stunned shock that doesn't occur. They've been detectives for too damn long, and she knows.
He knows about Lewis.
All she can muster is, "When?"
He throws his arms up in frustration, pacing around her office, stoking the blaze. "Fuck, Liv, you sent me into the lion's den with a steak strapped to my neck. You think the Brotherhood was going to keep Lewis a secret, knowing I was your partner? It was my fucking initiation. And I think you did that on purpose."
"Excuse me?"
"You knew they were dirty. You knew they thrived on bar talk, the cop rumor mill. Was that my punishment, Liv? My purgatory? Let me find out on my own from those assholes?"
"What did you want me to do? Huh? You ditched me for ten years but wait, let me relive my trauma to stroke your precious ego. Let me guess, so you could tell me how fucking sorry you are, that you would have murdered him, that if you knew, you would have been here in a heartbeat? That you would have been my hero? My partner? Fuck you!"
Olivia's screaming now, and he regrets that he got his wish; maybe there's no coming back from this after all. However, now there's nothing to lose, so he grabs her shoulders to force her to look at him. He's practically shaking her, but he needs to make her see they are worth fighting for.
"Yes, I would have been here for you. I would have murdered him, Liv. I should have never left, and I'm so, so sorry. I was a fucking coward, and it almost cost you your life." Elliot leans in, his forehead brushing hers, his need for her proximity smothering the flames.
She shakes her head. "Even if you were here, it could have still happened."
Elliot doesn't know how to answer that. He knows it wouldn't have happened, that he would have refused to leave her alone. But he doesn't want to hypothesize over what ifs– nothing can change the past, and this is about moving forward. He slowly runs his hands down her arms until their fingers tangle together. He takes a chance and brings her knuckles to his lips, inhaling her warm olive skin, real, tangible and alive.
"You're the hero of your story, Liv. You survived and thrived, and you are the bravest person I know. I just… want to get to know you again. I want to be here for you and learn about what I missed. I want my friend back."
She's shaking her head again, and his shoulders fall dejectedly in misunderstanding. "I'm sorry, Liv. I'm selfish. I don't deserve-"
"Shhhhhh," Olivia chides softly, cupping his face in her hands. "I've missed you so much, El."
He's not expecting her next move, but when her lips fall upon his he forgets how to breathe. The kiss is slow and sweet, a quiet passion smoldering between them: the requited promise of a rekindled friendship. The phoenix rising from the ashes. She's ethereal, incandescent, and he knows this moment will be his altar to pray upon for the rest of his life.
He chases her with a couple of soft pecks to her cheek and temple, and his lips upturn into a shy smile. "So… Noah's adopted?"
She giggles, and it's the brightest sound he's ever heard. "C'mon, partner, I'll buy you a cup of coffee and tell you all about it."
"I'd love that."
It's a start. A hopeful opening to a future of possibilities. He knows there will be more shouting and tears, guilty confessions and forgiving of trespasses, showdowns and stories of a decade missed. But his hand is in hers as they make their way out of the empty squad room, and he's never felt more grateful, humble, and relieved.
Partners, for better or worse.