Liv sits for a minute, filled with a separate kind of terror, the one she used to let consume her on the loneliest of days when she wondered and worried about Elliot Stabler. She lets the dust settle over Bernie's words, lets them sink in. "What do you mean, he collapsed? Bernie?"

"Honey, the day they found you... was the day Elliot died."

Chapter 4

Died? She doesn't realize she's whispered the word aloud, breathed life into something so torturous. He's here, alive, now. But what the fuck happened?

"His heart stopped. One minute he was with me, on the phone with your captain, getting ready to rush to wherever they needed him to be, and he just fell over. No prior warning, no dramatic clutching of the chest, just collapsed. I thought that was it."

"What?" Liv's reeling, voice cracking, unable to speak or think anything but these monosyllabic words. Died. Heart. How? Why?

Bernie allows Liv time to digest it all and encourages her to take a sip of tea, but Liv feels the bile rising in her chest. Dumbstruck and guilt-ridden, she realizes this is what Elliot tried to tell her. This is how Wheatley flipped the fucking script on their lives, how he made Elliot pay. And Elliot showed her grace, letting her stew in a rage that was misguided and incomplete.

"Olivia, do you believe in God?"

Liv looks at Bernie through blurry, pooled eyes. She cannot answer. Her relationship with any higher being is complicated. After her life circumstances: her mother, brother, people leaving her time and again, her job, Lewis: she isn't sure what to believe. Then Noah became hers, and it was as if she was blessed with a gift to make up for all of it. If she were honest, the only reason she got Noah baptized or went to church occasionally is due to Elliot's influence. But after all of this, how can she believe in anything?

"My Elliot, so devoted to his faith, even more so than his father or I ever were. So committed to truth, honor, living a righteous life. Always trying to do the right thing. Marrying Kathy as a teenager, raising his beautiful family, even returning to Kathy when he couldn't stomach a divorce and felt so lost and isolated."

Liv closes her eyes, remembering those awkward days of their partnership. Days where she wondered what if more times than she cared to admit, wondered why Elliot wandered in all directions but hers. Wondered if he strayed to her instead of back to his wife, what their lives would look like now. It's as if Bernie is a mindreader tonight because she continues with her elegiac take on times gone by.

"My Elliot never expected you, Olivia. I only met you once, and I knew. You were his soulmate. His guidepost. His calm in the storm. He never told me what happened, what forced him to walk away from his life's work, but I always knew it had something to do with you."

Gasping, she finds words. "Bernie, I never… we never…"

"Oh no, honey, that's not what I'm insinuating at all. What you and my son have is deeper than anything physical, no sins of the flesh. What you two have is sacred. Holy. Devout. And that's why that day, the day my son's heart stopped beating and you were rescued, is the day that I renewed my faith in God. Want to know why?"

The tears are flowing freely now, and Liv is again rendered speechless. How could Bernie believe in God as her son lay dying before her eyes?

"Sacrifice. My son prayed for you. I think of those moments often, what it must have been like for him, on hours worth of plane rides from halfway across the world, losing his mind with worry over you, trying to get here. Wrestling with regrets and guilt, struggling with the choices he made for the sake of everyone else. And the only thing I know he did, without a doubt, was pray." She pats Liv's hand, a slight laugh escaping her lips. "His first tattoo. I hated the darn thing when he got it, but Jesus on the cross- sacrificing his life for others. I know my son's prayer: Lord, take me instead. And the Lord listened."

Liv is unable to process any of this. Elliot came for her, collapsed and died, had to be brought back to life, and this all happened while she was in Lewis' grasp. It was more than a coincidence: it was fate, destiny, God? It was the invisible thread that always connected them, and the threat of it severed forever.

"My son prayed, his soul in exchange for yours, but I prayed harder. The Lord answered my prayers and kept you both alive. And that's when I renewed my relationship with God."

Liv bristles, thinking of what her prayers were that day. She prayed for strength, for peace, for rescue, for Elliot to appear. When none of those worked, she prayed for death. Somehow a glimmer of fierceness arrived when she needed it most, and now she doesn't have to question where that power came from anymore. She realizes now that she might not believe in God, but she believes in Elliot, wholeheartedly and without hesitation. He was with her in that beach house; his spirit helped her fight back. He saved her with his devotion, his faith strong enough for the both of them, even though it stopped his heart. "So, what happened? A heart attack?"

"He was unconscious for a week. None of the doctors could figure out what happened. They suspected a blood clot due to his long hours on a plane but never found one. But I know. It wasn't medical; it was divine. It couldn't be explained, because it was a solemn vow. A deal with God. His life for yours."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Olivia, when he woke up and learned you were alive, he sobbed. My sweet boy sobbed for hours. And then your friend came to visit him, Fin, and after, Elliot told all of us that he didn't want to add any more stress or pain to your life. He asked us to respect your privacy, let you heal in peace."

"I hate that decisions were made for me. Bernie, the only person I wanted to see, was him. He was the one I wished for when I thought I was dying."

"I can't explain away his years of silence, Olivia. That's something he needs to do if you are both ever in a place to discuss it. But, as I said before, I know my son's heart. A man's heart is complicated, especially one so closely bound to faith and a higher power. One that is so fragile, one that stopped when he faced the thought that you might already be dead. In his eyes, he failed you again, and that was his sin. His burden. His cross to bear."

She shakes her head, in sadness, in anger, in defeat. A person grazes Liv's thoughts, one not mentioned in the conversation yet, and she's almost afraid to ask. "Kathy…"

"Elliot should tell you that part of the story. He never told her he was coming to New York, so the whole week was pretty traumatizing for her. She flew here, but it was…"

"Complicated."

"Yes- complicated. She never hated you, Olivia. She was just scared of what you were to Elliot, the places you filled in his life. She didn't blame him for coming back here to you, but it wasn't easy. She let her faith guide her, and above all else, she loved my son."

"He's pretty easy to love." If she's going to admit this to anyone, might as well be his mother first. Not that it's a surprise, she's always loved this man.

"His devotion to Kathy is Biblical. His devotion to you is saintly. He honored Kathy; he worships you. Ah, to be a man so blessed and yet so cursed to have two loves of his life. Wanting to do right by both of you and feeling like he failed. Olivia, you have every right to be mad at him. At us. But please know that you were always in our hearts. We always prayed for you. And," Bernie whispers the next part reverently, "I don't think he knows about the second time. I think he did everything he could to put as much distance between himself and New York as possible after that. To let you live a good life, without him screwing it up. If he knew about the second time, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Liv understands the veiled meaning. Elliot wouldn't have survived learning about her second bout with the devil himself. No amount of prayers could stop that monster.

An hour passed, and both women settled into a comfortable dynamic at the table. The conversation shifted to more lighthearted talk, Liv sharing more about Noah, Bernie's take on Dickie's new girlfriend, and what it's like to live with her son again.

As they begin to clean up, Bernie's yawn an indicator that it might be way past her usual bedtime, she chuckles to herself. "When Elliot was a boy, do you know what I thought he would grow up to become?"

Liv ponders for a second. "Hmmm… a priest?"

"Close. A monk."

Liv's head whips up in shock, thinking of a specific moment from the past. "A monk!?"

"There was once a spiritual guide that would ask people what they thought the difference was between a prison and a monastery. Do you know what his answer was? 'Almost nothing. Both are filled with people alone in their cells all day, far from the world. The difference is that for the monks it is heaven; for the prisoners, it is hell."

"My son's childhood was a prison. It's true, and that is my sin to bear. I think he's spent his life chasing the heavens while feeling trapped in a cell. Marrying Kathy, he found heaven in being a husband and father, but he felt trapped in a life he was too young to know if he wanted. Enlisting in the Marines, he became a hero for countless civilians, giving his duty to his country. Becoming a police officer, he saved the survivors of unspeakable crimes and helped them find their heaven again, granting them justice. These life decisions are admirable, but they are all about serving others. Vows of obedience and virtue and love."

"And then, he met you, and you became his monastery, his place of safety, his refuge. When he's with you, he's found his heaven. You give him light and life and courage. You make him feel invincible. He's your monk, Olivia."

Liv bursts into tears again, only this time they are tinged with laughter. She knows she sounds psychotic, Bernie just shared this beautiful parable, and she's stifling laughter. "I'm sorry, it's just… the first month of our partnership, he called me a monkette."

Bernie pats her hand, a smile blooming her cheeks. "You see, my dear? Soulmates."


She's sitting in the garden, alone, tea exchanged for a tall glass of wine. Bernie insisted she stay the night and for once, Liv didn't hesitate the offer. She wants to be here, wants to feel surrounded by Elliot, surrounded by echoes of a family that never stopped caring, even from afar.

This space is lovely. Quiet. Long Island City still has a cadence to it at this hour, but the buzz seems to be drowned out by the lushness of her surroundings. It's dark except for the glow of string lights woven throughout the greenery. The heat has finally broken, and a warm breeze lightly peppers her skin with goosebumps. She's languid but restless, exhausted from the emotional events of the evening, yet her mind races with frenetic energy, memories darting like shooting stars across her temples.

She thinks back to their kidney conversation from years ago. Hell, she would have given her whole heart if she knew. It was useless to her then anyway.

Her phone is on the table, and she's picked it up a half dozen times. It's late in Rome, too late, but she's feeling needy and selfish. Too much wasted time, and she doesn't want to waste another second.

He answers on the second ring, a rugged, groggy voice filled with worry.

"Liv? You okay?"

Her throat constricts with emotion. Her first time hearing his voice in months, and it feels like that fateful night of the car bombing all over again.

"I'm fine," she strangles, knowing he already doesn't believe her. "I just wanted to say hello."

"What's going on? Talk to me, Liv."

"No, really, it's nothing. I… I'm still at your house. In the garden, actually."

"Ah. One of my favorite places to think."

"What do you think about?"

"The past. The present. You."

They sit in silence for a few seconds, listening to the stillness of their breaths commingling. She wonders if he's looking out at the stars, or if his sky has taken on a lighter hue as twilight becomes dawn.

"I had a conversation with your mom about the past."

She hears the hitch, the uptake of air in his quiet gasp. "She told you."

"Hm." She can't give him any more, afraid her voice will deceive her again.

"Liv, God, I'm so sor-"

"No, stop… please. Not tonight. I just… I just wanted to hear your voice." She's crying again, and she knows he hears her stuttering breaths.

"Sorry if it sounds a little ragged. Someone woke me up in the middle of the night."

She giggles through her tears, grateful for his humor. "I like this voice. Reminds me of stakeouts. Late-night interrogations."

"Cold takeout and Munch's 4 am conspiracy theories." They breathe in the familiarity of their shared past, slight snickers amid Liv's sniffles.

Another beat passes before she dips back into her anguish. "Fuck, Elliot, why didn't you tell me?"

The simplicity of his response jars her. "Because you asked me not to. I wanted to respect your wishes."

"Jesus Christ, this was a humongous exception. You should have shaken me, screamed at me to listen. Gave me another damn letter. Something!"

"You deserved to be angry, Liv. You didn't need me piling on more stress."

"More stress? I've been in agony for months, El. I didn't mean to shut you out. Every day I've wondered and worried about you."

"Oh, yeah? Every day, huh?" He's playful again, and she can hear the smile on his lips.

"Yes, you idiot. If you didn't realize it yet, I care about you. And I've missed you so much. And I'm so fucking tired of wasted time. Dammit, I love you."

She isn't expecting his laughter, a gruff chortle coming off as a flirty growl. "Twenty-three years, and you tell me that over the phone."

She grins. "What can I say, I'm a lot braver when you are thousands of miles away and I'm sitting on your patio getting drunk on your expensive Italian wine."

"You don't need to be brave for me, Liv. I'm going to need to hear that again in person, okay?"

"You got it, partner."

"Partners. For better or worse."

There's a comfortable silence as they both linger over that phrase, awash in warm memories.

"So…. Do you mind if I sleep in your bed tonight?"

"Benson, do you know what you're doing to me?"

"Mind if I borrow a tee shirt to sleep in? Or should I just sleep naked?"

"Now I know you know what you're doing to me."

"When are you back?"

"Tuesday. Not soon enough."

"Text me when you get in, okay?"

"I will. Goodnight, Liv."

"Night, El."

"Hey, Liv? I love you too. You have no idea how much."

"I know," she whispers. "I felt it then, and I feel it now."


She loves him. She knows they have so much more to talk about, so many years to unpack, still so many unanswered questions. But her love for him never wavered, even in those years apart. She loved him as her partner and best friend, and after tonight, she loves him more. For allowing her unlimited space, for fighting for her when she didn't realize it, for loving her in a way that was spiritual and celestial.

Throwing on one of his tees, she inhales the scent of him, keeping him close. Placing her wine glass on the nightstand, she fingers the books he has next to his bedside lamp. The Count of Monte Cristo. She smiles, thinking of Rita, how she knew that Elliot was still in there when he risked everything to rescue her. Curiously, she notices a book of poetry tucked underneath, an anthology of collected works. She settles into his pillows, book in hand, feeling a comfort envelope her soul. She feels at home here, in his house, his space, his bed, and she doesn't want to overanalyze that tonight. Instead, she lets the feeling nurture her, warm her from the inside out, and thumbs through the pages of familiar poems, many of which she can recite verbatim.

She pauses when she sees a familiar scrawl on the pages and smiles in surprise. She wasn't expecting to see annotations tonight, and it's a side to Elliot she never knew, the man that writes his thoughts in the margins of books. She feels a little intrusive and a lot like a detective, but now she's all in.

In the margins of "The Road Not Taken", he's written hope/regret, each path a fulfilling journey, wishful thinking, loss.

In the margins of "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening", he made a list of all the promises he intended to keep, making amends with his mother, his children, Olivia.

In the margins of "This Is Just to Say", he wrote, fun! Share with Eli.

In the margins of "Because I could not stop for Death", he circled two words, Immortality and Eternity, and wrote a paragraph about his relationship with God.

She skims through more pages, Plath and Poe and Hughes and Carroll, and admires it all. His unmistakable scribbles, familiar handwriting she's studied over years of paperwork, three words attached to a medallion, and one misguided letter. But here, he's freer, loopier, sharp edges curving as one thought blends into the next. Some are complete sentences, some just a word or two- thoughts to hang onto later, and it reminds her of their communication over the years, their verbal shorthand, their eyes, their frowns, their smiles. Sometimes one word was enough. If any.

And one word is what she finds when she turns to the next page.

She's landed on the beautiful e. e. cummings poem, "i carry your heart with me". At the top of the poem, in his stocky block letters, he's written only one word on the page: LIV.

Liv knows the poem but reads it again, over and over, as if it's the first time she's recognized its meaning, now with this newly discovered metaphor. Her. She's his fate, his world, his moon, his sun. His deepest secret. His tree of life. The wonder that's keeping the stars apart.

She doesn't realize she's crying again until a fat tear splatters the page, and she watches as the book absorbs these remnants of her soul. Her pieces are mending with each melodic line of verse and each note from Elliot's heart. His beautiful, strong, broken, healing heart.

She is starting to feel warm and sleepy, the effects of the rich wine and the evening's revelations making her fuzzy and disoriented. She turns, just one more page, and she stills. Dylan Thomas, one of her favorite poets, his most famous poem, and the two most popular lines underlined by Elliot:

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Underneath, he's written a simple, heartstopping message: Don't give up on me, Liv. Save our light.

She hugs the book to her chest, imagines she's hugging him through the pages. She wonders if one day he expected her to stumble across the words; if he left it there in hopes she wouldn't let a good poetry book go to waste sitting lonely by a lamp. Or maybe he's imagined what she's longed for: entwined together under crisp sheets and soft pillows, lazily reading together after a long night of passionate promises and a soulful surrender, leaving the message there for a time and place in the future when they rediscovered each other. Maybe he was just that hopeful, just that dedicated to giving time and distance to what they had, knowing they'd always drift back to one another.

She takes a risk and finds a pen in his side drawer. Underneath his words, she writes, Light breaks where no sun shines. You are always my light in the darkness. I love you.


NOTES: One more chapter to go, a little epilogue to bring them back together face to face. I hope you liked my little poetic journey here. I highly recommend reading all of the poems I featured!

"The Road Not Taken" and "Stopping By Woods On a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost

"This Is Just to Say" by William Carlos Williams

"Because I could not stop for Death" by Emily Dickinson

Mentions of Sylvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe, Langston Hughes, Lewis Carroll (had to get Jabberwocky in there somewhere!)

"i carry your heart with me" by e. e. cummings

Finally, "Do not go gentle into that good night", and "Light breaks where no sun shines" by Dylan Thomas.

Also, the spiritual healer mentioned is Ram Dass. Special shout out to Suleika Jaouad for the inspiration in her latest IG post.