1The delivery boy has to get past the over-ambitious, ever-watchful rookie cop posted outside my door. I let Elliot pay him, without a fight, because he owes me, and bring down plates from the cupboard.
"Ya know what's scary?" I comment, swallowing a bite of egg roll.
My partner raises an eyebrow, because he's in the middle of chewing. He swallows and looks at me. "What?"
"I'm gonna be forty in about a year and a half. And I'm alone. When I see all these kids out there, wearing makeup and dressed like young hookers, I. . . . I'm sorry, but I was stuck in traffic the other morning, in front of a middle school and there was this group of girls - short skirts, or tight pants, tops that I wouldn't even define as shirts and way too much damned makeup on their faces - it makes me wonder what the hell this world's coming to. If I'd tried that, when I was young, my uncle and my grandfather would have both kicked my ass. Maybe I'm just old."
"That's what girls are taught, from watching TV. What's the point of going to school, if you can make a living off your body?" Elliot murmurs.
"Didn't Munch say something like that once?" I rub my eyes, trying to remember.
"Yeah. And you looked like you were gonna hit him for it."
"But seriously, when I see this world, the hell we're letting it go to, it makes me want to come back home and dig out all the old music I have, including some of my mother's old stuff on vinyl."
"You still have a working record player?" Elliot stares at me, startled.
"Un-huh. Picked it up off an old neighbor a few years back. I have all the old stuff - The Rolling Stones, The Beach Boys, The Eagles, The Beatles, Johnny Cash"-
He cuts me off. "You name off a bunch of rock 'n' roll legends, then you come out with Johnny Cash?"
"Mom loved his stuff. He was kind of bordering between country and rock, you know? Patsy Cline - I know most of the words to most of her songs, still. Tammy Wynette was another one she liked, too. Then there's the stuff she picked up in the '80's - George Strait, Randy Travis - guys in cowboy hats and jeans. Then there's a lot of my stuff - some of the rock 'n' roll from the late '70's, into the '80's - that was music. The stuff the kids listen to now - it's noise, if you ask me."
"Tell me about it." Elliot comments, dryly. "Between Kathleen and Maureen, when she was home - it made me want to lock myself in the car and find a half decent radio station."
"I'm old. Plain and simple. I mean, I can still remember where I was when John Lennon got shot by some psychopath outside a hotel."
"Where?"
"On my way home from school, on the train. I was fourteen. I mean, I can remember Reagan running for President, the HIV crisis, the Gulf War, O.J. going on trial - half of this stuff the kids wouldn't have a clue about." I shake my head. "Most of my friends are married with kids. And unless the right guy suddenly appears in the group of jerks and perverts that seem to make up most of the entire male population in this city, I'm still gonna be alone."
"You mostly date cops, don't you? Ever considered dating a civilian?" Elliot raises an eyebrow.
"Hey. I do date the occasional lawyer. They're not all cops. And civilian guys just do not get it. They don't like the job. They're either disgusted and duck out of the restaurant or bar to make a phone call and don't come back or they're way too interested, looking for every sick detail They ask me to quit, give up the hours - I fought tooth and nail for this job and I'm sure as hell not going to give it up for some guy. With a cop, they get why I do my job and don't ask me to quit. They don't wanna hear the details 'cause they know what we do."
"I don't know how you aren't the one with kids and a husband, Liv." Elliot shakes his head.
"Well, opening a dresser drawer and finding a .357 automatic isn't exactly something a guy wants to do when he's with his girlfriend." I lever myself up from the couch, deciding on water instead of another beer. I'll need a clear head if this guy really is after me, like my partner and boss are so convinced that he is.
"What?" Elliot looks at me, startled.
"I was dating this guy, a while back. I don't know why the hell he was in my dresser, but he was and he found my off-duty piece - .375 Magnum automatic. It was loaded and he nearly had a complete meltdown." I run my fingers through my hair.
"A Magnum. Jesus. I haven't heard tell of one of those since the Academy."
"Yeah. I know. It was my first piece. A girl with a gun - it freaks a lot of men out for some reason."
"You know how many gun permits the state must issue a year?" Elliot looks at me as I down my water and a couple of aspirin. After today, I have one hell of an evil headache. "And they can't possibly be all to men."
"Yeah. I know. But a woman who carries a gun day in and day out seems to unnerve guys a lot more than the one who stashes it in her bedside table when there's a psychopath on the loose."
"You don't scare me." He grins at me and downs his beer. "Underneath the hardass you pretend to be, there's a good girl. You're not all tough."
"You wanna test that theory?" I stand there, in my kitchen, silently, waiting for his response.
"Hey. I said you're a good girl under there. I never said I wanted to fight with you. You can kick my ass and you know it."
"You remember that the next time you piss me off." I reply, returning his grin and putting my empty glass in the sink. "Did you really come over to apologize or did you come over to watch me?"
I hear him get up, but he doesn't answer me. I twist the taps on and reach for the dish soap. I really need to do dishes. "So which one was it? Did you come over to babysit me and use the apology as an excuse?"
Before I can turn around, he's behind me, hands on my shoulders. "What do you think?"
"Knowing you, you came over here to babysit. Who sent you? Cragen?"
"No. I sent myself. And I didn't come over here to babysit. I just - I can't live in that - I can't live in that empty house, Liv."
I turn around to face him and sigh, turning off the water. Of course. Why the hell didn't I think of that? I'm used to being alone, so it's nothing out of the ordinary to me, but for him, it's a shock. I've been alone since childhood, but he's one of six kids, and then he got married and had his own - he's never been alone. "Twenty years and she just walked away. I don't know how the hell she can do that. How the hell do you do that!"
"I don't know. If there was something I could do, El, you know I would. I don't know how people just walk away from marriages like that. I've watched it happen to my friends, watched them get caught up in evil divorces and I kinda have to wonder - what happened to 'till death do us part'? But what the hell do I know? I'm a confirmed bachelorette and I'll probably stay that way."
His shoulders slump and he looks at me. "I know I was one evil son of a bitch to put up with, before Scarry opened her mouth - forgive me?"
"Maybe." I laugh, softly. "I'm kidding you. Consider it payback for all the times I was a bitch to be around. You know, my couch is open, anytime. I could rent a couple of movies - it's up to you."
He smiles at me, for one of the first times in a while. "But nothing you can ever do would add up to what I was like to put up with. Believe me. I've been kicking myself over it for a month or so now."
"Well, it's not just me you owe the apology." I murmur, arms crossed across my chest.
Elliot raises an eyebrow. "Who else ever put up with all the crap you did?"
"Let me see. There's Casey"-
"That's done. But I always butt heads with her, anyway."
"She's young. She's learning." I shrug. "There's Cragen"-
"The boss and I talked about that one, the other night."
"Donnelly, but I know you're not going to apologize to her. Huang."
"What the hell did I ever do to him?"
"Before this whole divorce thing came out - that Abraham Ophion/Eugene Hoff thing - I could hear you, sitting at my desk."
"Fine. I'll corner the doc and apologize. Happy?"
I roll my eyes at him. "Very funny. I'm just telling you - I'm not the only person you were a complete son of a bitch to."
"Since you're the only one I'm talking to"- Elliot reaches out for me and before I can protest, he's pulled me close. Damn it. I haven't had a date in a few months, now, and this just isn't fair. He's teasing me, holding me like this. I have had feelings for him, since the first day I met him, but I pushed them down. He was married and we had a job to do. I never wanted to get involved with a married man. Besides, he was my partner. I doubted he even noticed me. Then I started noticing the little things. The way he worries about me, even though I try to push him away. The comments - like when I show up to the squad, just off a date, he'll stop and tell me that I look good, or when I tell him about the disaster that turned out to be my date, he'll get pissed off, especially if the guy stood me up or left me in the place.
I don't know if it's friendship or something deeper, but I've been in love with the man for years. It makes it awkward as hell, to be around him sometimes. I like seeing a guy dressed up in a suit and tie, but my partner has the girls all over him, when he shows up, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. The desk sergeant in the precinct, brought his daughter to work with him one day - the girl was flirting with Elliot like mad, completely oblivious to the wedding band on his hand. I thought I was going to have to drag him off before she stopped.
He's warm, solid and close. I feel him slip a cupped hand under my chin, making me look at him. "Liv." He whispers, one hand slipping into my hair. We've never gotten this close - not when we we're both using our own identities. Undercover, yes, but not like this. Not when we're us, not some fictional people. His lips are inches from mine. I swallow, hard, so tempted. I can't.
He bends to kiss me and I sigh. I have no problem with making the first move, but I didn't want to, not when I wasn't sure what he wanted or what the hell he was doing. If I'm sure of a guy's feelings, or I have some idea, I'll make the first move, but he's always confused me. I cup the back of his head in my hands, as his tongue slips into my mouth. Fantasy, meet reality.
"On one hand I count the reasons I could stay with you and hold you close to me all night long. So many lovers' games I'd love to play with you. On that hand there's no reason why it's wrong. But on the other hand, there's a golden band, to remind me of someone who would not understand. On one hand I could stay and be your loving man, but the reason I must go is on the other hand."- 'On The Other Hand' - Randy Travis.
(A/n: I'm sorry about all the quotes from completely lame country songs - Randy Travis and George Strait have been my soundtracks for writing, lately.)
