Disclaimer:
Thanks for letting me play, Dick, it's been fun.
A/N: Okay, so here it is folks. Kinda moves around from Olivia and Elliot's points of view, so I hope it works. Again, I agonized over every word...this writing thing is exhausting :o) Apologies for the ending - they made me do it :o) Thanks to all of you who have taken time to review, your feedback is much appreciated:o) - That said, read on - I really hope it doesn't bite the big one, and that y'all enjoy it :o)
Manhattan
Olivia sits by his side as they drive to her apartment across town. Her eyes focus here and there on familiarities of the landscape as it passes by her window in a blur of color and light. The places are all known to her, yet it is as though she sees them for the first time.
Her gaze slides away from the window and towards her partner. Like a moth to a flame she is drawn to his strength, and although his face is impassive she is reminded of the emotion glittering in his eyes earlier tonight. Olivia looks at him every day, but it is the first time she has seen her partner in a long time and she realizes how much she has missed him.
She moves her eyes to the scenery once more, and the interior of the car is silent as it moves along the streets. Neither feels the need to speak, for both are lost in their own world of revelation. She doesn't notice the car slow or Elliot get out of the vehicle and so she jumps slightly in surprise as he opens her door. In normal circumstances she would have called him on such a gesture, however tonight she is grateful. Chivalry may be dead, but gallantry lives on in their slice of the world.
There is no need to ask him up. Even though he has not been her Elliot in a while, some things will never change. They climb the steps silently, and he waits as she fumbles inside her coat for her keys.
Olivia opens her apartment door and he holds it for her as she moves inside, following her before closing them off from the troubles of the world outside. She watches as he removes his coat and throws it haphazardly along the back of her sofa. She turns to him as he breaks the silence, and sees storm clouds brewing behind the crystal beauty of his eyes. Olivia sighs as he speaks, dropping into her couch and sinking into its comfortable embrace.
"Liv?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you tired?"
"No. I'm fine Elliot. Want a beer?"
Her tone tells him she speaks fallacy rather than fact, but he lets it slide for now. Instead, he nods a brief assent to her query observing as she moves towards her refrigerator in search of liquefied fortitude. As he watches, he finds himself wondering how she can make the most simplistic of actions seem so gracefully beautiful. He does not realize he is going to speak, but the words tumble from his lips before he even registers them in his consciousness . He is as surprised as she is at their presence in the darkened room.
"I mean, are you tired of me?"
It is an almost unexpected question, and she glances up at him in momentary bewilderment, tracing the lines of his face with her eyes before meeting his gaze with her own. Ambiguity floats in the sapphire sea of his eyes and she thinks how unlike it is for him to let her see his uncertainty. Like a sentinel standing watch over the castle of emotion, he does not often let his guard down for fear of attack. Olivia sees her brave soldier's momentary lapse in concentration, and so she seizes the chance to enter the fort hoping desperately that he will not turn her away.
"Why would you ask me that?"
He sighs at her enquiry, as though the thought of telling her is too much of a burden for him to bear. He knows that she has seen the uncertainty clouding his soul but he does not think he is ready to share his true weakness, for now he know he knows his weakness is her.
Olivia feels his metaphorical movement away from her, and although it is a familiar feeling, she is not willing to let him go this time. It is like a dance - a to and fro movement that has one over the precipice and the other on solid ground. The positions change, but the steps are the same. Like a waltz, she knows the moves like she understands her own heart and she knows how it ends. Yet this time it is different, for she will not let him teeter on the edge any longer.
"I should go."
She watches as he stands, pacing the room like a tiger inside a constricted cage before he turns towards the door as though the action will provide him with a means of escape from his tortured existence. She knows he wants to run, for she recognizes the gesture and lord knows Olivia has had much experience with that particular inclination. This time is different and so she stands her ground preparing herself for the impending battle.
He leans his head against the tired timber and he thinks the distance between them in this moment is like a gaping chasm of silent questions and unrequited emotions. Like a hammock in a hurricane, his soul is twisting precariously between security and oblivion and like their natural creator he knows only she has the power to halt the storm and bring calm to his world once more.
He hears the whisper of her feet on the polished wood as she comes to him, his angel of the earth and the only one who can bring clarity to his uncertain heart. He feels her warmth as she leans against him and the uncertainty drains from his body like water through a sieve. Her hands sit on his waist; as though the action will hold him still long enough to face his fears, before she trails her fingers down his arms to meet with his. He thinks the movement to be almost symbolic, a unification of sorts and he wonders why he had chosen to wander in a personal desert of despair when the oasis had been in front of him all along.
The room is silent save for their breathing, and the expected and habitual ticking of the clock. He does not resist as she tugs his hand gently pulling him away from exodus and towards endurance. He follows her willingly, for she knows he cannot refuse her anything.
They sink together, side by side into the relative comfort of her sofa, not breaking their physical bond but not complicating it either. There are a myriad of words and emotions whirling out of control inside her mind and the room is still while she waits for the internal storm to abate. She trusts her consciousness to form coherent sentences, for her heart is beating too fast to be of any help to her tonight. When she speaks, she is almost surprised at her choice of words but knows that he needs to hear her heart before he can give her his soul.
"Do you know what he said to me tonight?"
Elliot does not need to ask whom she is talking about, for he knows the troubles of Michael Thomas still weigh heavily in their hearts.
"What?"
"He asked me if I had ever loved someone so much that I would die for them."
"Jesus. What did you say?"
"Nothing. But I thought about it."
Elliot Stabler is fearful of only a handful of things in this world. Losing a child, losing Olivia and losing his mind. He has come close to all three in one way or another these past months, and he is terrified his next question will again bring fear to the forefront, but he asks the question all the same. He is a detective and he deals in facts and inferences every day. He has never before been scared of the answer but this is not a perp, this is his partner and this is not a case he is trying to solve. It is his future.
"Have you?"
"What?"
"Ever loved someone so much you'd die for them?"
Olivia lifts her eyes from their fascinated investigation of the cracks and marks of her living room wall. She drops her gaze and studies their linked fingers for a moment, knowing what it is he is asking, and wondering if the connection alone is enough to give her the courage to answer. She knows now what a moment of truth feels like, and she does not have the energy left to lie. She leans forward, resting her dark head against his chest, as though hearing the broken beating of his heart will give her the strength she needs to stand still long enough to forget her uncertainties and walk with him into the future. Olivia doesn't know what tomorrow will bring but she has been given the chance to save him and despite her own fears, save him she will. She knows that she has already fallen, and so she takes a deep breath and leaps off the metaphorical cliff of faith with a final, silent plea. Catch me Elliot.
"Yes, I have. I do. Every day."
With her words, Elliot feels his hollow heart turn over in his chest as it begins to beat in a cadence of hope once more. He tightens his arms around her, and catches her as she falls. And just like that, confusion and chaos exit the stage of his heart and clarity makes its grand entrance into the theatre. He wants to leap to his feet and give the performers a standing ovation, but he knows now is not the place. He twists slightly on the sofa, meeting her eyes with his and seeing the truth of her words reflected in her dark eyes. He wonders how he could have looked at her every day and tonight he thinks he sees her for the first time. He sees the lines on her face and the way her hands look like they were destined to link with his. He sees the chain on her neck proclaiming her lack of fear and the crimson stains marring the perfect periwinkle of her sweater. He is reminded of their mortality and how close he came to losing the center of his universe.
"I almost lost you today."
He whispers, afraid to speak the words out loud as though verbalization makes them the truth. Regardless of the volume, his words bring reality crashing into their fragile refuge like a wave to the shore. She can hear the desperation in his tone and feels hope enter her heart like a perfectly aimed arrow from Cupid's bow. She smiles into his chest, and feels him pull her closer in response. She knows he doesn't expect an answer, yet as always she feels the need to give him solace in any way she can.
"Elliot, you're not gonna lose me."
He sighs in a barely audible exhalation of relief as he hears her words. He had not realized he had been holding onto his breath, waiting to hear her tell him she will be by his side always and forever. He wonders when he had become so unsure of himself, whether it had been before his wife left him or after he does not know, but he realizes now that it has always been Olivia. Elliot knows that he has been a performer these past few months, hiding his hurt behind externalized calm and internalized rage. The anger dissipates like water in the sun as his spirit hears her words, and he squeezes her hand, running a thumb along the soft skin of her inner wrist. It is an absent-minded action and he questions whether the gesture is an affirmation of life or to remind himself that she is here with him unharmed. Perhaps it is both.
He does not know how many seconds pass by before she untangles her fingers from his, but he feels the loss like his soul has been split in two.
"I'm gonna go get changed."
He watches as she extricates herself from their labyrinth of hands and limbs on the sofa. He hears her bedroom door close quietly behind her and the room is silent once more. Like an anthology of stories, his mind is another tale altogether and his subconscious is screaming a litany of commands in his ear. He prays for the fortitude to tell his heart he is incomplete without her but like a child with stage fright at a school recital his conscious mind will not form the words. It his insentient mind that completes the task for him.
"I love you."
She doesn't know how long she has been watching the axis of her world battle with his demons on her sofa, but as she observes him from her place in the doorway, his words seep through her reverie and into her consciousness like a magical salve for the wounds of her heart. Like a knight in tarnished armor he may not be faultless, but he is hers and she thinks that she can see the shine begin to fight its way through the stain of despair that has kept his heart from her for so long.
"Elliot?"
He hadn't heard her emerge from her haven, nor had he realized the words had flowed from his consciousness and through his lips until he hears her voice permeate the opaque air, filling the room with hope and his soul with light. Like the lion in his children's favorite movie, it seems that his journey has ended and he has been granted the courage he wished for.
"Yeah?"
He ends the inspection of her coffee table and allows his eyes to meet hers in the semi-darkness. She does not speak for a moment, and he uses her silence to let his gaze traverse the nuances of her face, lingering here and there as though he is examining an impressionist's masterpiece. Elliot knows that neither Rembrandt nor Monet could have ever painted something so intrinsically flawless. To him, she is perfect.
"Get your punk ass over here and prove it."
Elliot Stabler is not one to leave a challenge unanswered, and so he is out of his seat and in her arms in less than a heartbeat. The distance from sofa to doorway takes but a second, but as he feels her arms close around him he can't help but think it has taken him a lifetime to get here. In that moment, Olivia knows that dawn has broken over his endless night and that he has come home to her. She sighs as he glances his lips over hers and it is a feather like touch, as though she is the most precious of china dolls and he is fearful of marring her with his sullied touch. Olivia refuses to allow him any such thoughts, and so she pulls him up and over his imaginary cliff away from oblivion, into the light and far away from the treacherous edge.
"That all you got?"
He smiles into her lips at her tone, and he knows she is attempting mirth to lighten the enormity of the events of this night. Her emotional moments are usually borne of turmoil and anguish and she is not one for sentimental dalliances. Such things make her uncomfortable and disturb her carefully controlled equilibrium. She has brought symmetry to his world more times than he can count and he knows it is her that he has to thank for his salvation, so he chooses to return the favor.
"Quiet, woman. I'm trying to prove something here."
Olivia wants to tell him he has already proven it to her, a million times over. She wants to tell him that it is in the smile he gives for no reason, the coffee he brings when he knows she is nearing exhaustion, and the way he always has her back. She wants him to know that he shows her love each and every day. Instead, she allows him the opportunity to attest to his declaration as she rests in his embrace. Like the hopeful heroine in a paperback novel she knows what a happy ending feels like. And, as he leans his head towards hers once more, prove it he does.
End :o)