A/N: Bring on the OOC fluff! (Is there really any kind?) Watch your blood sugar, everyone. Many thanks to Jill from saving this chapter from being even more OOC.
The Search Is Over
She feels vaguely ridiculous, being a bride at this age. Weddings were for glowing twenty-somethings, not a 45-year-old cop with a stubborn streak seven feet wide. She inspects the dress thrown over her bed, making sure that it hadn't magically gotten stained on its trip from the closet.
She hears a knock at the door, and after calling out a harried "come in," Casey walks into her bedroom.
"I like it," she says, nodding in approval.
"I know you do," says Olivia irritably. "You helped me pick it out, remember?"
Casey laughs, not easily offended. She has three sisters, after all, and is well acquainted with wedding day nerves. "You'd better get dressed, Liv; we've got pictures in an hour."
"Yeah, you're right," says Olivia distractedly. "Where's my pantyhose?"
Casey scoops it up from the floor and tosses it to her. Olivia kicks off her slippers and starts putting it on, and is hopping around the room with one foot in – fancy clothes had never been her strong suit – when Elliot walks in.
"Elliot!" cries Casey in dismay. "You're not supposed to see the bride yet!"
"Pictures," he points out.
"Oh, right," says Casey, abashed. "You guys don't much go for tradition, do you."
"Never have," says Olivia, smiling now, and thumps onto the bed in the temporary euphoria of having successfully put on the pantyhose.
"Makes more sense this way," says Elliot. "We can go straight from the ceremony to -"
Casey snorts. "I have to say, I'm glad you didn't take Cragen up on his offer."
"What, the station wouldn't have been a good place to hold the reception?" asks Elliot innocently.
"Not exact – oh no!"
Olivia looks at her nervously. "What?"
"You haven't got something old, new, borrowed, or blue!"
Elliot stares at her as if she is speaking a foreign language, possibly Martian.
"My dress is new," Olivia points out. "And my necklace is both borrowed and blue. And…I guess it's old?"
Casey bites her lip, unconvinced.
"Does it really matter?" asks Elliot, still mystified.
"I suppose not," says Casey with a sigh.
"Well, hang on," he says, putting an arm around Olivia's bare shoulders. "We're something old, right?"
She glares at him for the implication.
"I mean – not that you're old, of course. I mean us. Being a 'we.' We've never been singular, not since we met. We're old."
"True," Olivia concedes.
"And this," he continues, pausing to kiss her deeply and then pulling back to smile into her face, "is something relatively new."
"Relatively," says Olivia, but is grinning anyway.
"Ugh," says Casey, a hand over her eyes in mock disgust, "you guys aren't even married yet!"
Olivia gasps. "Elliot Stabler, I'm not that kind of girl!"
Casey dares to peek through her fingers. "Besides," she says, directing her lecture towards Elliot, "she still needs to get dressed! And you cannot see her put the dress on!"
"All right, all right," says Elliot, allowing himself to be shooed away, lest Casey turn her courtroom glare on him.
"It's so romantic," sighs Casey, once she is sure that any male is out of earshot.
"So you've said," says Olivia, holding up her dress and inspecting it once again.
"Well, it is," Casey defends herself. "And if you don't put that dress on, Olivia –"
"I'm putting in on!" says Olivia, unzipping the back and stepping into it.
Casey, surmising that her services were no longer needed, perched on the edge of Olivia's bed. "How did he propose?"
"I have told you at least a dozen times," says Olivia, slipping her arms through the appropriate places.
"One more time, Ma, please," begs Casey, and Olivia laughs despite herself.
"Well," she begins, "once upon a time –"
"In December," interrupts Casey.
"Yeah, December," continues Olivia, unabashed, and leaves the zipping of her dress for later. "He took me ice-skating, because I mentioned once that I'd never learned. I suspected at the time that he just wanted the entertainment value, but he promised to teach me, and I thought it was sweet."
"'Sweet' and 'Detective Stabler' are not generally used in the same sentence," muses Casey.
"So we got to the ice, and they had the tree up 'cause Christmas was in four days, and it was getting to be twilight so the lights were shining on the ice."
"So basically," interjects Casey, "it was all unbearably romantic."
"Yes, basically," says Olivia with a laugh. "I did manage to get my skates on, though! And so…we went."
Casey winces, knowing what is coming.
"And I fell on my butt the instant my skates hit the ice," says Olivia, "and he held out his hands to pull me up and said that if I'd held onto him, I wouldn't have fallen."
Casey sighs dramatically.
"Yeah, yeah, 'aww' and all that," says Olivia, pretending impatience. "So I held onto both his hands while he skated backwards, not showing off in the slightest, of course, and we made it all the way around the rink. And again, only holding onto one of his hands this time, but my skates hit a bump or a hole or something, and I tripped."
"But he caught you."
"He did," Olivia agrees, "and whispered that he would always, always catch me. And then he dropped to one knee." She looks over at Casey, who is beaming. "And he said he knew that at times, both of us would fall, and that he wanted to be with me forever, because he knew we would always hold each other up. And he pulled out the ring from his pocket." Olivia waves her hand in the air as evidence. "And he asked me to marry him."
"And then you fell into his arms."
"Quite literally; a four-year-old crashed into the back of my knees. And obviously I said yes, and that's all the information you need," says Olivia with no small degree of satisfaction.
"Rob is never going to propose," Casey says mournfully. "And it wouldn't live up to that, anyway."
"He will."
"How do you know?" asks Casey stubbornly.
"I'm psychic," whispers Olivia, but it was nothing close to ESP that saw Casey's boyfriend of two and a half years walk out of a jewelry store with a very small package and a very large smile last week.
"Here, let me zip you up," says Casey, suddenly business-like. Olivia turns obediently as Casey zips the back of her ivory dress closed. "You look beautiful," says Casey, beaming once more.
"I should," says Olivia, "I've been up since seven getting 'beautified.' I never knew it could take so much work to make my hair look exactly like it always does." But her expression as she catches a glimpse of herself in her full-length mirror belies her words.
"You're such a cop," says Casey, rolling her eyes.
"Can't help it," says Olivia. "It's in my – my heart." She knows nothing of her blood.
"Nope," says Casey, pretending not to notice the awkward pause. "Elliot's in your heart."
"You make it sound so sappy," groans Olivia. "Who knew you were such an incurable romantic?"
"Come on, you deserve a little romance." Olivia makes a non-committal noise in her throat. "What?"
"It's just – " She laughs then, at the absurdity of what she's doing. "I mean, look at me. What do I know about being married?"
Casey nods slowly, understanding unspoken fears. "You love each other," she says simply. "And that's what matters."
Olivia gives her a little half-smile. "I know."
Casey rubs her shoulder. "We need to go, Liv; traffic is awful." Olivia checks her reflection in the mirror once more, to Casey's exasperation. "Elliot is going to lose all power of coherent thought when he sees you," says Casey with so much satisfaction that it might have been entirely her doing. "Except to say 'I do.'"
…
Olivia waits in the back of the church, shifting from foot to foot with nerves, and occasionally peeking into the sanctuary to see how far along the service is going. It wasn't a strictly Catholic wedding, as certain circumstances made that a little tricky, but she still wasn't used to wooden pews and soaring ceilings and stories told in stained glass.
"Breathe," comes a voice from behind her, and Olivia turns to smile gratefully at her captain.
"I think I can handle that."
"I have no doubts whatsoever," he says.
"Did you ever think you'd see this day?" she asks with a grin.
"I have to say I wasn't exactly surprised," he admits. "It's not the first time this has happened on the force, but there were never partners like you two." He smiles fondly at her.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "For doing this."
"Detective Benson, I would have been offended if you'd asked anyone else. And that," he adds, hearing the opening strains of Pachelbel's Canon, "is our cue."
They link their arms together and begin to walk down the aisle.
Casey is waiting up at the front as her Maid of Honor, and Elliot's three daughters as bridesmaids, but as she walks, she does not see any of them. Her eyes find Elliot's immediately, and neither of them look away. She's struck with the odd feeling that she has been walking down this aisle throughout her entire life, and had simply never realized it before. Her heart pounds; she has always been walking towards him.
Captain Cragen leaves her at the front, taking the place in the pew where her father would have been. She steps up to her place next to Elliot, and can't help but feel that everything in her life has finally fallen into place.
When looking back, she would not remember the vows clearly, nor the exchange of rings, nor a great deal of what made up the quintessential wedding (though she had no doubt that she would remember that kiss). But she would remember Maureen tearing up and Casey bawling, and she would remember Dickie as the youngest best man she had ever seen trying to look cool and unaffected. She would remember joining hands at the end – "In front of God and everybody," Lizzie had said – and walking out of the church, whole.
They are transported to the reception in a police car bedecked with white ribbon and a "Just Married" sign; both of them laugh to see it.
"Never been in the back of one of these," says Olivia, clambering in.
"I should hope not."
Once inside, she turns to him and gently cups the side of his face. "I can hardly believe it. That – that we made it this far."
He covers her hand with his own. "I can."
A peculiar sort of fairy tale, but a happy ending nonetheless.
They arrive at the reception just as the bridal party is getting there; Olivia hugs each of her new stepdaughters, and Dickie solemnly shakes her hand. Their guests begin to file in, pink-cheeked with the sudden wind, but there was never a more beautiful September afternoon.
When everyone is seated, casting longing glances towards the cake, Dickie stands up to make a toast. "They never told me being the best man would be so much work," he says, to scattered laughter. "I mean, a suit and everything. But none of us would trade this day for anything in the world. Have you ever seen two people look so happy?" The crowd laughed again at the couple in question's broad grins. "It took them a while – I know Maureen had it figured out years ago – but they got there in the end, didn't they? On behalf of my sisters as well, we're glad it's you, Olivia. Congratulations to you both." He raises his glass, realizing belatedly that he'd forgotten half of his prepared speech, but deciding they'd gotten the gist of things. Everyone follows suit, murmuring their congratulations. Olivia, unable to contain herself any longer, stands up and hugs him.
"Cake time," says Elliot, taking her by the hand and walking to the table groaning under the weight. She casts a nervous glance at it, hoping it won't collapse. Their hands together hold the knife, neatly slicing out the first piece of cake. They feed bites of it to each other, then step back, allowing Maureen and Kathleen to take over the cake management.
Before the dancing begins, Olivia turns her back and closes her eyes. She and Elliot had previously decided that this was a much more logical time to throw the bouquet, so she flings it over her shoulder into the crowd of waiting girls and women. She's not surprised in the slightest to see that Casey, softball champion, has snagged it with the tips of her fingers. "Yes!" Casey cries, then blushes, embarrassed.
And then, in front of Elliot and Olivia and everyone else's shocked eyes, Rob walks over to her and kneels down. Olivia is too far away to hear the words, but there is no doubt what he's saying, and there's no doubt what her answer is as she flings her arms around his neck.
"Yes!" echoes Olivia, albeit more quietly than Casey had done, and the crowd bursts into applause.
"Hey, get your own wedding!" someone bellows, and they break apart, laughing.
Maureen had been put in charge of music, and she motions that it's time to start. When the first notes begin, Olivia and Elliot move to the dance floor. She will later dance with Cragen, with Aaron, even with Dickie, but this is the only dance that truly matters. He wraps his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, and the crowd clears a space for them as they dance. One step, another, perfectly in time.
The search is over – you were with me all the while.