Disclaimer: I looked in the mirror this morning and was insanely shocked to find out I'm not Dick Wolfe. Go figure.
Rating is for angst, smutty smut, more angst, and the occasional (or not so occasional) naughty word that cops actually use and that I am so fond of writing.
Reviews: Please. I love you guys!
A/N: And now this is the sound of me relenting. I just couldn't follow through with my original plan for this snippet. Some angst remains in this, the final chapter, but not in the caliber I intended.
Chapter Four
"If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears."
- Lord Byron
Their flight landed at JFK at approximately 6:30 the next morning. The layover in Minneapolis lasted longer than expected, bringing them into NYC in the midst of Friday morning rush hour.
The plane ride had been one of the most oddly sobering experiences in Olivia's recent memory. The tickets Munch had purchased on such short notice had them seated in coach on a Northwest 737, little Elliot sitting between the two adults. With the guiltless conscience of most young children, he had spent the majority of the time sleeping, the last half of the flight leaning up against Munch, his tiny fingers curled tight at the lapel of the man's gray suit jacket.
Munch had stiffened at first when the boy had snuggled up against him in his sleep. It had taken several minutes, waiting cautiously to see if Elliot would wake, before Munch relaxed. He then reached out hesitantly, touching the still disheveled mop of dark hair. The gesture, though uncertain, was still so fatherly it tugged at her heart. Munch glanced at her, the look in his eyes questioning and at the same time, expressing a sadness she knew would be overwhelmingly more painful and significant in the blue eyes of her former partner.
It was a regret of all those lost years, tinged at the edges with wonderment at what could have been. Mr. Munch would have been Uncle Munch, maybe even Uncle John. There would have been picnics, maybe strolls through the park, perhaps birthday parties with Munch and Fin, Cragen showing up with a ghastly wrapped present, Casey cooing at a baby Elliot. Munch would have snickered, watching in amusement as Fin tried to change his first diaper, hissing expletives between soothing baby talk.
And then there would be Elliot. Elliot caressing her swollen belly, ripe with their child. Elliot holding his son for the first time, the warmth of love moistening his cool blue eyes. Elliot, watching her breastfeed. Elliot, helping her raise little Elliot, making her days bearable and her nights heaven.
The touch of fingertips on her hand pulled her out of the deep thoughts she had so desperately wished to be actual memories. Olivia watched Munch's hand slide into hers where it rested over her son's small knees. He gave her hand a firm squeeze and she looked up at him again.
"The past cannot be changed, Liv," he spoke softly, a gentle smile creasing his weathered face. "But it does not have to determine what we do with the future."
She had nodded in silent reply, biting her lower lip as she pondered his words. He stared at her a moment longer before turning back to gaze at the dark sky out the small plane window, his hand still holding hers. They remained that way the rest of the flight, the silence pregnant with unspoken questions and recollections.
After landing, they headed over to the baggage claim, weaving through rushing tourists and business travelers in terminal four. Munch seemed content to hold Elliot, who was still groggy from sleep, but slowly becoming aware of their new surroundings.
When the metal slats of the conveyor started moving after a groan of protest from the machine, Munch set Elliot down, seeing the obvious curiosity in his brown eyes and his need to explore. Still holding his tiny hand in his, he walked closer to Olivia; she was watching the various luggage from their flight appear on the metal slats from the plastic flaps covering the small baggage doorway at the front of the conveyor.
"You were so sure I was going to come back you didn't even bring a carryon?" Olivia asked, not looking up from the slow rotation of luggage in front of them.
"No. I really had no idea what to expect. But I had hopes that I could convince you. After all, I've had my share of successes in the interrogation room."
Olivia glanced at him in time to see the small grin. She shook her head, turning back to the machine.
"Dere, Mommy!"
Olivia followed the direction of Elliot's small pointed finger, seeing their two suitcases appear on the belt.
"Good eyes, sweetheart," Olivia praised him, reaching down to ruffle his hair. He smiled broadly in response, all but vibrating with pent-up energy from the long flight.
Olivia pulled the luggage from the belt, pushing her backpack to a more comfortable position as she extended the handles on both of the wheeled suitcases. She made a weak protest as Munch grabbed for one, knowing the whole process would go noticeably faster with his help.
A sea of yellow greeted them as they exited the terminal, and Olivia felt the pang of sadness of years of memories of her city in this one vivid visual. Holding Elliot's hand tightly, she followed Munch over to an empty taxi in a line of drivers waiting for fairs.
Munch paused, turning to stare at Olivia for a moment. She fidgeted a bit under the intense scrutiny, out of practice at holding her own under such a look. He was trying to read her, and it had been years since she played a one-on-one battle of wills with anyone other than a rambunctious four-year-old boy.
Munch smiled, his posture relaxing. He obviously had found the answers he had been looking for, nodding slightly to her before ducking his head into the open passenger side window to talk to the driver.
The yellow trunk popped open and Olivia wheeled the suitcase to the back of the taxi, Elliot almost skipping with his enthusiasm beside her. She slid the handle closed, heaving the bag into the back of the cab, joined by Munch moments later with the second suitcase.
"Come now, kid. I bet you've never been in an honest to God NYC cab before, hey?" Munch teased, his mood jovial as he took the boy's hand again. "You can sit by the window and see all the beauty of the city."
Olivia heard the note of good-humored sarcasm in his voice, but chose to ignore it. Even if they had to drive through the worst area of Queens, she knew Elliot would be excited by the new, strange view.
As promised, Elliot had a window seat as Olivia sat in the middle, Munch on her other side. Elliot chattered endlessly about the images streaming by the glass, the city becoming ever lighter under the rising sun. Of course, NYC was similar to Portland with its glass skyscrapers mingled with inner city businesses, but there was an older flavor here, a distinctive rhythm that thrummed through the streets, a staccato beat that called to the same one that pounded against her ribcage. It reminded her in not only the visual sense, but in the humid air that came through the open windows of the cab, and the taste of nearby Jamaica Bay on the wind, that she was back.
Olivia Benson had come home.
"Mommy, don't crwy."
Elliot was staring up at her, his tiny hands brushing the wetness on her cheeks. She smiled down at him reassuringly, kissing his forehead lightly to ease the look of fear and sadness her son held whenever he saw her cry.
"It's okay, sweetheart. They're happy tears, all right? I'm just happy to be here again," she spoke softly, soothingly.
"Are we going to see Mr. Stable?"
Olivia blinked at the question. Of course, it was the reason they were here; it was why for the second time in her life, she had quickly packed a suitcase and without a word to anyone, she had flown across the country, leaving everything behind.
But this time was different. Now she had a child, and she was returning to the scene of the one memory that weighed on her every move, and the one man that would haunt her the rest of her life.
Olivia glanced out the window in time to see their taxi leave 25 to connect with the Long Island expressway. She turned back to Munch, her lips parted, slightly breathless.
"Yes, we're going to see Mr. Stable," Munch answered for her, smiling at the child. Elliot grinned in response, turning back to the window, starting to sing as he tapped his small fingers against the glass.
Olivia felt the tremble start in her chest, moving into her thighs and arms. Munch nearly startled her when he squeezed her shoulder gently, the gesture comforting.
"Do…do you think he'll be there this early?" Her voice was nearly inaudible, her mouth suddenly dry. The thought of what she was doing, after all of these years, was finally becoming certain. The plane ride had been almost surreal, but the views outside of the cab and the abruptness of Munch's disclosure of their destination stripped her emotions raw.
She was going to see him again after nearly five years. He was going to see their son. She was going to break him all over again…
"The pain of seeing you again…I can't deal with it. There's nothing left of me to break."
She had broken him. She had promised, hadn't she, that she wouldn't do it again?
Olivia felt her chest constrict as her breathing hitched, a wide mix of emotions from fear to longing causing her body to shake.
"He'll be there, Liv," Munch replied, his tone low as he leaned closer to her. "Don't be scared."
She laughed, an unsteady, rough sound. "Easy for you to say. Oh, John, I don't know if I'm strong enough…"
"You're the strongest woman I know, Olivia," he cut her off, his tone unchanged. "Remember what I told you. All gospel, Liv."
She nodded silently, biting her lip, looking back at Elliot. Olivia tried to keep her focus on her son the rest of the drive, not wanting to think of the encounter that awaited her.
Too soon for her, the cab pulled up in front of the 16th Precinct. Olivia was frozen for a moment, staring at the gnarled stone façade of the place she had lived and breathed for nearly a decade. Seemingly unchanged, she wondered faintly if she would find its occupants the same way.
"Liv?"
She took Munch's hand, scooting the rest of the way across the tattered fabric of the back seat of the taxi, closing the yellow door behind her. She stood next to Munch, self-consciously brushing the front of her patterned sundress, wondering for the first time how she must look. She had been awake for nearly 24 hours now, was wearing minimal make-up, and her clothes were wrinkled from the flight.
Munch caught the look and squeezed her arm again. "You're beautiful. As always." He paused in the act of reaching for his wallet to pay the driver. "Why don't you go up? The kid and I will follow, okay?"
She glanced at her son, who was leaning against the side of the yellow taxi, squirming slightly, his eyes shifting over everything, taking in the busy Manhattan street.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
She looked up at the building again, moistening her lower lip unconsciously. "Okay. Don't take too long," she added, once again betraying her fear and apprehension to him.
He nodded silently, and she steeled herself against emotion, drawing on the strong Detective Benson persona she had long ago thought lost when she had left her life with such finality nearly five years ago.
She walked up the steps with as much confidence as she could, pushing through the front doors with a feeling of dread mixed with the relief of finally coming back to the one place she had felt most at home.
As it was still early, the precinct was rather quiet. Thankfully she didn't recognize any of the uniformed officers she passed on her way to the SVU; she didn't relish the thought of having to explain herself to anyone at this moment. Meeting Elliot after all of these years was going to take more than enough of her will power and energy.
She stood in the entryway of the squad room, trying to relieve the fine tremor of her body, to ease the quickened pace of her breathing. She couldn't remember ever feeling this terrified before, save the times she had been faced with the working end of a gun. Even then, she was certain this trumped it.
Olivia bit her lip on a sigh, dragging in one shuddery breath before walking into the SVU.
There were only two occupants in the dimly lit room at this time of the morning. Fin was sitting at his desk, his work illuminated by a green-capped lamp. The other man was turned from her, standing at the table they had always used for coffee and donuts, pouring himself a cup of the dark brew.
From his short-cropped hair, to his muscular back highlighted by the soft texture of the pale blue dress shirt he was wearing, she could tell the other man in the room was her former partner. There was suddenly a rather restrictive lump in her throat, and anything she thought to say at the moment instantly left her.
Fin gasped, a sound she had never heard before from the rough, assertive man. His eyes were large, staring at her in faint shock, his lips parted in surprised. His mouth closed, then opened again, but no words came.
Olivia gave him a small smile. She had wondered previously if Munch had told his partner that had taken a vacation day to meet up with her, after discovering her location several weeks prior. Obviously, Munch would later have hell to pay for leaving Fin in the dark like this.
Elliot turned, sighing, walking across the worn flooring of the squad while rubbing his bleary eyes with his free hand. His vision was blurred at first by the action, but then everything came into focus.
She was there, standing in the middle of the SVU. Her once short hair now fell in supple waves around her shoulders, shining in the soft light from Fin's desk lamp. Her face was relatively unchanged, save the look of fear in her glistening brown eyes. She was wearing a dress, a sleeveless shift in some sort of flowery pattern, the material cinched at her waist, but relatively free-flowing. It was rather feminine, but seemed out of place on a woman who he knew personally could face down the toughest, most vile of perpetrators with ease.
His hands suddenly shaking uncontrollably, the mug slipped from his fingers, the ceramic shattering when it hit the worn flooring, coffee streaming into grooves and pooling on the linoleum.
Olivia swallowed, swearing she could hear the sound of the tiny action in the unexpectedly breathless silence of the room. She stared at Elliot, taking in his appearance.
He was still muscularly lean, well-dressed in his everyday uniform of slacks, dress-shirt and tie. He had a few more lines to his face, each a testament to the horrors of the job. His skin had gone several shades paler, his blue eyes wide, his thin lips parted. Her gaze had traveled to his hands when he had dropped the coffee mug, and she was shocked to see they were visibly trembling.
"You're not here." His voice was rough, thick with emotion as he continued to stare at her as if she was a ghost. "You left."
Olivia moistened her lower lip, watching as his gaze flicked to her mouth. She hesitantly moved forward, walking over to Elliot until she was standing in front of him, careful of the shards of white ceramic at their feet. This close, she could see the raw shock on his face and hear the raggedness of his breathing.
"I'm here," she whispered. Her hands were clenched at her sides; she wanted desperately to reach out to him, to hold onto him and never let go. But she was frightened that if she touched him, it would all disappear. She would wake up alone, drenched in sweat, in her bed back in her tiny house in Portland. "I'm right here, El."
Her nickname for him caused a harsh sound at the back of his throat, similar to that of a strangled sob. His mouth closed, his lips pulling tight, and she could see the tremble in his lower lip. One hand reached out for her, uncertain.
"Liv? My God, Olivia?" His voice broke, and he touched her face, his thumb brushing against her mouth as his rough hand shakily traced across the warm skin of her cheek. Tears glistened in his ice blue eyes, threatening to spill over as he caressed her face reverently. "God, oh, God, it's you."
Elliot pulled her roughly into his arms, one hand at her back, the other at her waist as he held her tight, his hot face pressed against throat. She was crying openly now, tears streaming down her face as her shaking hands drew patterns on his back.
"I'm so sorry, El," Olivia whispered, her voice wavering. "I thought you never wanted to see me again…"
He grunted against her neck, his arms tightening as he rocked the both of them in a shaky rhythm. "My God, that couldn't be further from the truth." A sudden sob rumbled through his chest. "I need you. I need you more than anything. Please don't leave. Never leave again…"
"I didn't want to leave," Olivia whispered, her voice punctured by soft sobs. "But I didn't want to hurt you anymore. I didn't want to break…"
She felt him stiffen in her arms, his body suddenly ridged under her hands. She pulled back a little to look at his face; his eyes were wider, his face even paler than before.
Olivia turned slightly, seeing what Elliot had viewed through the veil of her hair.
Munch stood in the doorway of the squad room, the luggage behind him, little Elliot in his arms.
Elliot stared at his colleague, his blue gaze shifting from the weathered face of Munch to the young boy resting on his hip. There was something strikingly recognizable about the child, from his large, luminous brown eyes, to the shape of his nose; the boy was staring, a ghost of a smirk pulling at his tiny, full-lipped mouth, a gesture Elliot had seen before, something frighteningly familiar…
"Oh my God," Elliot gasped, everything clicking into place. His gazed jerked from the doorway to Olivia, who had shifted out of his embrace, standing still in front of him.
Olivia watched as the realization crossed her former partner's features. He knew. In that moment he knew that the child Munch held was his, and that one night nearly five years ago in this same squad room, Elliot had impregnated Olivia with a son. And then he told her he never wanted to see her again…
"Elliot." Her voice was soft, her breathing irregular. She grasped his arms, frightened by the glassiness of his blue eyes. He was shaking uncontrollably now, his face white. It was only moments away that his knees would give out, and he would collapse in front of them all.
"My God, Liv. Our son," he choked out, his tone a mix between horror and awe. He reached a trembling hand behind him to the closest desk, trying to stay steady on his feet.
Olivia kept her grip tight on his arm, reaching out with her free hand to grab a nearby chair, scraping the worn flooring in the process.
Elliot led her guide him into the wooden, straight back chair. Olivia, careful of the ceramic shards at their feet, knelt down in front of him, her hands on his knees as she lowered herself to eyelevel.
In a gesture parallel to his, she reached out to caress his cheek, rubbing her palm against the roughness of the stubble at his jaw, the pad of her thumb brushing against his lower lip. Even after all this time, even after his painful words had echoed in her thoughts over the long years, she loved him. Through out it all, this man had her heart. Everything else paled in comparison.
"Why?" Elliot whispered, the raw pain causing his voice to come out ragged. "Why did you run? I would have done anything, Liv, anything…"
"I thought it was what you wanted. That night, you said you never wanted to see me again, that I had broken you," Olivia replied softly. Her hands at his knees tightened as she stared at him, her brown eyes shining with unshed tears.
Elliot shook his head, his lips pulling out in a line before he spoke again. "I wanted you. And you left the squad and I fell apart. I needed you so much and you left."
She licked her lower lip, her right hand leaving one knee to trace his jaw again. "I'm sorry. El, I wish I could take it back. I thought," she paused, letting out a short, humorless laugh. "I thought it was best for us, for the job. I didn't want our partnership to cause problems, I didn't want the victims to suffer because of what we felt…"
"So you thought it better to throw it all away?" He finished for her, his tone gentle, betrayed only by the quavering in his chest.
She closed her eyes, sighing. She turned to glance back at her son and Munch in the doorway, granting them a small smile before looking back at Elliot.
"I loved you. God help me, I still do." His words, always his words would come back to her.
"I loved you, El. I still do," she whispered. Other than the minute flicker of an unreadable emotion in his eyes, he didn't react to her revelation. She let go of her pride and embraced her courage, facing down her greatest fear.
"I love you, Elliot Stabler. That night convinced me I would do anything for you. And if you never wanted to see me again, well then, so be it."
He was staring at her, the intensity of his icy blue gaze nearly scalding her. She ignored the erratic beat of her heart against her ribs and continued.
"I left for you. Broken for you. But there hasn't been a day, or a single night, that has gone by that I haven't thought of you and what we could have had." The tears were now spilling down the warm skin of her cheeks, and she let go of the basic impulse to rein in such a vulnerable emotion. In this moment, she wanted him to see. Olivia wanted him to understand how she felt, what she had given up for him.
A loud thud at the doorway caused both of them to turn. Young Elliot had pushed out of Munch's arms, landing on his feet, pausing for only a moment before he was racing across the squad room into the embrace of his mother.
Olivia pulled her son instinctively under her arm, close to her side. He was wide eyed, flushed with a silly smile on his small face as he stared up at his father.
Elliot reached down with uncertainty, his fingertips brushing against the soft skin of the small child's face. The boy looked up at him, his large, luminous brown eyes, so familiar as those of his mother, staring at him expectedly.
"You're Mommy's partner," he whispered with an awed reverence of discovering something hinted at, and now exposed in wondrous reality.
Elliot's gaze jerked from the boy to Olivia as he swallowed the sudden visceral emotion at the child's exclamation. "For life," he whispered.
Olivia's lower lip trembled, and she looked away, holding her son tighter as the tears continued to flow.
Elliot slid out of the chair slowly, kneeling among the ceramic shards and spilt coffee next to Olivia and their child.
"Mommy loves you vary much," the boy smiled, still holding tightly to his mother's side. One of his tiny hands reached out to touch Elliot, and the older man let the child trace his nose, and the planes of his face, trembling at the significance of the moment.
"And I love her."
Olivia turned back to him. Her eyes were shining in the dim light, her cheeks flushed and her mouth red from the continued assault of her teeth. She looked as if she had come straight from battle with one of their toughest assailants. In that moment, she had never appeared so beautiful to him.
"El?"
"I love you, Liv. God, wasn't it obvious, sweetheart?" He murmured, reaching out to hold her face between his large hands. She looked up at him, blinking, and he smiled in response.
"For years. Years. I can't even remember when I first started to feel it. And then you left and my entire world fell apart. I tried to forget you. I tried to forget how I felt, and then you showed up that night.
"I was terrified. I thought I would lose myself and expose my true feelings to you. So I tried to push you away. But you wouldn't leave. And I couldn't help myself. If I couldn't have you, I wanted something to remember you by. Just one night. One night to live on the rest of my life."
Olivia sobbed, overwhelmed at his words. Tears shone, deepening the blue of his eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.
"And you left again. In a way, I've been waiting for death ever since. It's only the thought of you that kept me going, the miracle that maybe, just maybe one day you'd come back…"
"El, I love you!"
Both still kneeling on the floor, Elliot pulled her against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her slender form. Their son was next to them, still half under his mother's embrace, but his free hand against his father's back.
Elliot was kissing Olivia's face, brushing his mouth against the tear-moistened flesh with devotion.
"I love you, Liv. Don't ever leave again, sweetheart. Please stay. Stay with me and let's be a family."
They made a perfect picture in the middle of the SVU squad room. Munch sighed from his position next to his partner, content to watch in peace the beautiful moment between two of his best friends.
"You owe me, Munch."
Munch turned to Fin, seeing the scowl tug harshly at his mouth.
"So I'll make it up to you. Pool, next time, I'll let you win."
Fin snorted. "Fuck. Liv's back. Neither of us is going to win again."
Munch leaned back on the edge of his desk, a slow smile spreading across his weathered face. He didn't mind that in the least.