Please come over as soon as you can.
That is the text Olivia receives from Elliot. That's what has her racing, whatever version of "racing" you can actually do in NYC traffic on a Saturday afternoon, to get to him. He hasn't given her any further details, nothing to indicate what happened for him to send this vague distress call in the form of eight words across a phone screen. But it never took many words exchanged between them for each to know exactly what the other means. And so here she is, on her way to him with only an I'll be right there as her reply.
Since his return, Elliot has tried to be careful about asking for much from Olivia. Yet they both know that when it comes to overwhelming moments, there's no one more meant for this. He feels guilty every time, even though they've already decided to move forward together, decided to give this, give them the chance that they had already missed out on for over twenty years. Elliot still feels guilty for needing her like this, because nothing will ever erase the memory of the look on Olivia's face as they sat in the hospital waiting area and she told him that he, the most — single most — important person in her life had just…disappeared.
Regardless of any conversations they'll have where Olivia will likely tell him that she does not want to hold on to the decade they lost, he can't help the self-loathing that creeps in every time he asks her to show up in his moments of turmoil. The irony is never lost on him, that he can always count on her to be there while he…he'd just left her. No warning, no final meeting to say goodbye, no communication for ten whole years. He's already decided that he will never tell her about all the times he dialed her number but did not press the call button. Or the arguments he'd had with Kathy while in Rome where she insisted that he must be talking to Olivia because she could tell that though he was there physically with her and Eli, he wasn't actually present sometimes. No; all of that would be his cross to carry, and he chose to protect Olivia's mental health from that information, knowing that his own would always be tainted with the toxic cocktail of the ways he had failed each woman more in the last decade than in the first twelve years that he'd tried to juggle his feelings, his duties, his need, for one or the other or both.
But now, since Kathy's death, he just can't help himself from acting upon every single time he has wanted Olivia's presence and knew he had access to it. When he was undercover, working to take down the Kosta Organization, it was much worse. The panic attacks were more intense, the insomnia sometimes put him in a state of delirium that coffee could only help so much. And he knew it was all because he could not call Olivia, couldn't risk asking her to meet him somewhere or to come to the Winnebago he'd pretended was a home. But from the moment Elliot heard her say she wanted him to come home, when she brought her hand to his face before removing it just as quick, when she spoke his full name and voiced her fear that he would lose the battle of identity with Eddie Wagner, then walked away, it all snapped him back to reality like an elastic band had been gripping his mind and Olivia had released it in that brief moment on his patio.
So when he finds himself today clean shaven and freaking out that there really is nothing else to keep him from his actual life, as he sits alone in the apartment he has refused to leave but insisted his family not let him ruin an outing together, he awaits Olivia's arrival after sending her that text. And though it's her, he can't help the social anxiety that builds for an impending interaction with another human, and he starts trying to plan out the dialogue he'll contribute to the conversation. Just as he stands, as if the radar of his body pinged her nearby, he hears a knock and "Elliot? It's me." That me needed no further explanation and he practically runs to his front door at the siren's call of his name from her.
"Liv!" he all but shrieks out as he opens the door, and he's reminded of when they'd met up in a parking garage after he learned who detonated the bomb that killed Kathy. Just like then, he knows it is Olivia, sees her with his own eyes, and still the need to say her name out loud in a moment of panic is something that he just can't stop doing these days. How he managed to keep it from happening during his time in Rome, he'll never know. He chooses not to delve into the implications of that, attempting to focus on the here and now because his mind can go a million different directions if he allows it to start that journey.
Olivia can see this all happening, and she immediately understands why he asked for her just by the myriad of expressions crossing his face in quick succession. But for just a moment, before she figures out what exactly has him so worked up, it's her turn for shock and awe. "Elliot…" is all she can manage when she actually takes a good look at him. The beard of Eddie Wagner is nonexistent for the first time since she saw him walk in telling her she wouldn't like what was going on with the Navarro case. She can't decide if she was more shook then or if she is now. But, as she did then, she recovers as best she can to get to the task at hand. She begins to step inside, and even with the state he's in, he keeps his manners in check for her and steps aside to let her in. "Thanks for coming. I…it's—" he starts to say as they walk in unison toward the living room, and of course he's forgotten the entire dialogue he had set up in his mind. He sinks onto the couch and the embarrassment of being unprepared to be social washes over him.
"Elliot." This time when Olivia says his name, it's not breathless and born of shock at the sight of him. Just like in the parking garage meeting, she knows this is a time for grounding, and again she pushes her own panic down because his is exponentially worse. "Elliot, look at me." There is authority in her voice now and in that moment he has never been more appreciative of her rank, because his instinct is to follow her direct order and it's then, when he looks up from having his face buried in his hands that he realizes that she's kneeling right in front of him.
It's a good thing he is already sitting or he'd have fallen over from the sight of Olivia knelt before him, looking him directly in the eye, her hands on the couch on either side of his legs. The multiple feelings rushing through him are calming and overwhelming at the same time. But he settles for guilt that this woman, of all people, felt the need to do this in an effort to anchor him. On the contrary, he knows that no one else who he has come across in this lifetime would be willing to do something like this for him, except Olivia. And though gratitude is one of the feelings bouncing off the walls of his mind, he doesn't want her to think this is a requirement to help get his anxiety in check.
In one move he is gripping her biceps, getting up from the couch, and lifting her from the floor and into an embrace. Olivia knows he's more than capable of doing all this, but still isn't prepared and she instinctually reaches out for his shirt. She clings to it as he moves them into a standing position and when he wraps his arms around her, her hands land against his chest. This…is the closest and most intimate hug of the very few they had shared in over two decades, and she immediately decides that it tops the list. For the first time ever, Elliot Stabler's arms are wrapped around her waist and her hands are flexed across his chiseled torso, his muscles tensing and relaxing underneath her as he breathes deeply. And she can tell that he's needed this as badly as she has. They needed it.
Elliot can't believe that all it took to finally have this after everything that had happened this year, was a simple text. He began to feel like the dumbest man on Earth that he had spent so much time trying to figure out how to get to this, realizing that it came down to just doing what Olivia had asked of him. She wanted him to come home and she did not want anything to do with Eddie Wagner. So he had completed the operation that kept him from home, and he had shaved the beard he was hiding behind…yet he could not figure out what that next step was to get them where they are right now. The frustration of being stuck at this hurdle had caused him to shut down, isolate, and resulted in the panic attack that led to his text. And he is sickeningly grateful for the mental health woes that he now realizes can be a blessing in the midst of a curse.
He begrudgingly pulls back from their embrace. He could've stood like that, holding Olivia like he'd never been able to before, like he'd longed to even when he'd decided he wasn't good enough to speak to her for a decade, forever. But he knew that even as his panic attack had rendered him mute, he had to give her something to let her know he was coming down and she was helping. They lock eyes and have an exchange in their super secret language. He lets her know that he feels the ground beneath them, she lets him know that she's about to bring her hands to his freshly bare face, and he gives her the green light to do so.
She will most definitely get back to touching his chest, because that was…well, she could go on and on about the thoughts she had just from only being able to look during their years as partners, and how his ability to improve his physique with age almost had her ready to say their time apart was worth it if she gets to have him like this. But she endeavors to keep all lustful thoughts in check because right now, they both need her to touch his face. The gentleness in her approach equates to someone trying to help an injured animal, careful not to scare it into jolting and hurting itself further. And he would chuckle at how ridiculously careful she's being if he weren't so frozen that there's just no way his lips could even curl or his lungs could produce the sound. Olivia's eyes only leave his to make sure the placement of her hands is exactly as she wants. She watches her hands shake slightly just as her fingertips land on his now smooth jawline. They both have to remember to actually breathe because they'll no longer be standing, and he would never forgive himself if her ankle injury that he had missed while undercover was reintroduced because of him.
Her fingers begin move up from his jawline and when her hands finally cup each side of his face, Elliot lets out the physical breath he'd been holding since this began. At the same time he releases everything he'd been holding mentally since the night their parallel universe crashed into the one he'd tried to keep in tact for so long. The one where he told himself that he could only be her partner on the job because he just had to be the family man his father never was. The one where he'd convinced himself that he was giving everyone just enough so he could have them all. He had been so tense, in body and mind, for so long. Resting his head in her hands, he closes his eyes and he can actually feel. Olivia had always been an expert in grounding him, she'd never failed, but there was something about this new method. He's already decided that this is the only one he wants her to use from now on.
Olivia watches him fully relax and she's admittedly more proud of herself than she is of him right now. She's glad that he contacted her, that he was able to reach out before this panic attack completely consumed him, glad that he'd allowed a vulnerability that she figured out he had been running from when he told her it felt good to not be him for a while. But her biggest source of pride in this moment is for herself and the fact that she is actually doing what she wants with who she wants. And when Elliot opens his eyes, she can see what he wants too. Elliot Stabler has never asked for a kiss in his entire life. He's never needed to. But if he weren't mute right now, he'd ask out loud for the first time ever. Lucky for him, he and Olivia have never needed words for even the most important of moments between them. In sync as ever, they break eye contact at the same time to glance down at each other's lips before inching closer to one another, her hands still on his face, his arms still wrapped around her.
When their lips finally touch, it's as if time stood still. Truly, they forget that there's over twenty years between when they first met and this moment right now. And for as much as they can respect the history, the foundation, the triumph and even the pain of it all, it's as if nothing else happened between the day their souls met in human form and this day when they crossed the boundary that they knew would never have stopped at just one kiss. But they'll talk about this first one for the rest of their lives, remember it like none other, hold it in a special place where nothing else can reside. Because this is the catalyst for everything they'll do after it.
Elliot is the first one to slowly, achingly break away. It isn't at all because he actually wants to. It's because that thought, of what this kiss will inevitably lead to, is starting to fuel a desire that he isn't sure he would be able to tame. And there is no way he'll ruin this moment by rushing Olivia and risking a rejection that his anxiety would make him pay for tenfold. When he opens his eyes, he sees that hers are still closed, and a stifled but definitely there smirk tugs at his lips. Even if she doesn't want to go further right now, he can tell the effect he has on her matches the one she has on him, and that's enough to carry him for however long it takes.
Olivia opens her eyes to the sight of Elliot looking down at her with the same yearning for her that she has for him. And since she's on a roll today of doing what she wants with who she wants, she decides that they're too grown and have gone through way too much to feel ashamed for skipping the traditional steps of an official first date. Attempting to get him talking, even if it's just a little, she asks, "so, you asked me to come over just for a kiss?" A smirk decorates her now flushed face.
Elliot huffs out a laugh. It is a genuine, unfiltered positive emotion for the first time today. In a while, really. And for just a few seconds Olivia forgets that this encounter happened because something is wrong, and that it's so traumatizing that he can't say what it is right now. She knows this feeling better than anyone, and she knows him better than anyone. So she doesn't push for the conversation that, of course, they will have. Instead, she reaches for his hand and starts to pull him toward the bathroom.
"Let's shower," she says and he starts to follow her lead. Just then, with the touch of her hand bringing him all the way back down, anchoring him, helping him find his voice, as she has more times than he can recall, he finally speaks again and says "I'd like that." They slowly stride to the bathroom, each a little more relieved than how they'd greeted one another. And they don't even need to express out loud that for each of them, this would not occur with anyone else.