Oh, he was mad. More at himself than anything else. Call it good old Catholic guilt. Elliot paced around a grove of pine trees five times before he was ready to go back to Olivia. The calm air and the scent of the evergreens slowly cleared his head.
She could make him so mad sometimes with just the slightest sardonic twitch of an eyebrow. They often fought like three year olds in a playpen.
But God, he loved her. What Kathy lacked in personality, she made up for in loyalty. Olivia was a true character, more of a manipulator than Kathy and at times unpredictable, angry, stubborn and loving. She didn't race out of the truck after him because she knew that would make the situation worse. Olivia and Elliot were very much alike, but he marvelled at her compassion, just as many men marvelled at her tight t-shirts. Not that he minded those, really.
The thought made Elliot smile. He picked his way through the briars and back to the truck.
She was sitting in the passenger seat, dozing with head against the window. For some dumb reason she was listening to an oldies station, something she'd never admit to in her waking hours. He slid into the driver's seat quietly and prayed she wouldn't wake up. The Fifth Dimension played softly as he carefully put the Ford in gear and pulled back on the county road. The band was one of his pet peeves.
But if I could reach you, some way
If I knew the magic it would take...
Olivia stirred slightly, mumbling something. He reached over and brushed a piece of hair off her forehead.
Where would she go? Would they meet up again as acquaintances years down the road, or would they not even recognize each other twenty years from now, passing on the street? Those friends you were close to in elementary school...you sleep at their house, dig through their fridge, go to the pool...would you know them now? She'd be just another face in the crowd if things didn't change soon.
His prayers were answered because Olivia slept the whole way back to town. The state police barracks were homey, with the usual smells of coffee and industrial floor cleaner. He dragged Olivia in and she immediately went back to sleep on a vinyl couch in a waiting area.
"You wearing that girl out?" asked Sgt. Brown. He was leaning back in his chair, feet on his desk, eating a baloney sandwich and drinking an RC. Elliot just shook his head on concentrated on a bag of chips. "Pretty girl like that's got to have a boyfriend or something."
Or something. Yeah, she's got something alright, Elliot thought. "She dates a lot. I don't ask," he smiled. Brown just nodded and finished his sandwich. "I'm getting divorced, so she's kind of on the receiving end of everything from me lately," Elliot heard himself say. The words just kind of leapt from his mouth.
"Oh. Well, I'm on my third wife. This line of work is tough on relationships, I know that. I'm sure your wife wasn't real pleased to see you working with Olivia so much either," said Brown.
"No, not really. But our split was inevitable. I was worried about the kids, but they seem to be adjusting to it."
Brown leaned forward in his chair. "I'm retiring next year," he said, in a low tone. "My wife and I are sick of the whole damn thing. We bought some land and I think I'll get into carpentry or something."
"No way. That's not bad."
"I never thought I'd be almost sixty and still doing this. Best thing you could do is get out while you still can. Get out of police work and don't look back. Buy some land, have a farm, see your kids, travel, what have you. Maybe your friend in there would split it with you. Never know, do you?"
Brown was right. Elliot was burning out. Sometimes the thought of coming to work made him physically ill. Munch had his bar and Fin was so damn mysterious no one knew what he did but that was okay. Elliot had his kids and the job. Olivia had..the job, but she rarely complained. And if there really ever was something between them, one of them would have to give the job up. Olivia said she'd never marry a cop, ever.
My God, could he see himself marrying her now?
The coffee became bitter and he nearly spat it back into the cup. Brown now knew more about their relationship than anyone else. Okay, maybe Munch knew more.
"So you're divorced now,' Munch said, sipping a Coke. The leaves crunched underneath their feet that fall day.
"Yeah."
"Welcome to the club. Not that it's anything you ever wanted to join."
Elliot's breath hitched in his throat. He thought of the holes in the walls where he'd thrown the doors open, sending the knobs smashing through the drywall. The vase smashed on the floor. The red marks on Olivia's arms where he'd gripped her too hard, and how they faded away into vague brown bruises.
"I guess you and Olivia are on the outs, too."
He looked at Munch, startled. The other detective stared straight ahead.
"Nah, we're not on the outs. You and Fin don't always get along all the time," Elliot said, with a hint of finality in his voice. He wanted Munch to drop the subject.
Leave me alone, he had shouted. His hands dug into the pale flesh of her arms as the world swam in front of his eyes. When that cleared, he was able to see Olivia Benson., tears clouding her brown eyes. "Liv, I'm..."
"Save it," she said. He dropped his hands and she walked away briskly, rubbing her arms.
"Elliot, I know there's some unresolved issues between you and Liv. But I've seen the way she looks at you and it's different than the way she looks at anyone else," Munch shrugged. They had reached the precinct. "Don't let her leave you."
They were silent on the way back to their new hotel. The room was large and a bit more cheerful than their living quarters the night before. Elliot was famished again, so he immediatly dug into the styrofoam containers of food Sgt. Brown had picked up for them. Olivia picked at her chicken sandwich and moved restlessly, peering out the window at the water tower or trying to adjust her bandages.
"You gonna finish that shake?"
She pushed the tall cup toward him and laid down on the bed. Olivia was quiet for a long time, but spoke up just as Elliot was finishing his dinner. "You never answered me today when I asked about Kathy," she mumbled, almost pouting.
"Liv, what do you want me to say?"
"I just want the truth from you," she sighed, turning her back to him. Elliot settled next to her and flipped on the television. He knew Olivia well enough to know when she was extremely exasperated. She just seemed tired now. There was nothing to do but watch an old "Saturday Night Live" rerun and contemplate what he would say when the time came. When Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel began singing 'Scarborough Fair", he felt Olivia move. She hoisted herself to a sitting position and bent painfully towards the TV.
"If you listen close enough, there's pretty twisted stuff going on in the background of that song. When my mom used to play it, I'd cover my ears when it came to the killing part," Olivia said, tracing the design of the comforter with her fingertips.
"Do you feel sometimes like you're getting burnt out?" she asked suddenly.
Elliot sighed and moved beside her on the bed. "I feel that way all the time now," he said quietly. "Five kids dead...people getting raped, strangled, mutilated, beaten...guy gets a violin bow up his ass."
Paul Simon plucked out the last chords and Elliot clicked off the television. The room was dark. "I was talking about retirement today with Brown. Problem is, I don't know what the hell I'd do with my time," he said. Olivia laughed a little. "Maybe I'd move somewhere like this and just, I don't know, withdraw a bit."
"I'd go nuts in a small place like this," she said.
"You just have to adjust your thinking."
"Guess it's not going to storm tonight," Olivia yawned.
"Nope," Elliot said, taking off his shirt. Olivia was struggling with something; he imagined she was taking off her bra, doing the Houdini act under her shirt. She fell back on the the pillow, exhaling loudly. Elliot stared at the ceiling for awhile, then concentrated on the blinking red light on the television set. Olivia flopped around a little. He gathered his courage and pulled her close, so her chin rested on his collarbone and her hot breath warmed his neck.
She was still for a minute, then softly began running her knuckles up and down his chest. Shocked as he was, the action was soothing. He cupped her face in his free hand and stroked her hair. The movement on his chest slowed, then stilled, and her hand came to rest on his stomach.
"Hate to tell you this, but your suspect's home burned down last night. Looks deliberate, like they moved everything out and torched it," Sgt. Brown said, scratching his head.
Olivia reluctantly toed a charred stuffed animal. The remains of the shack smouldered in the misty daylight. A pair of coonhounds sniffed around in the weeds for clues, their handler trying to keep up with the lanky pace. Investigators snapped pictures, deputies unrolled crime tape and a helicopter buzzed overhead. Funny, it was almost comforting to Elliot because this was his realm. His ankle kept him from moving around the muddy yard very much, but Olivia was mixing and mingling in the crowd. One of the dogs lost interest in the search and bounded up to her, spraying slobber all over a five foot radius. Elliot struggled up as Olivia began to pet the dog.
"Hey. I see you made a new friend."
"I need all the friends I can get," she smiled. "Do we need to be here?"
"I think we can go home. These people are long gone, and with any luck, they'll be back on our turf soon," he said. Olivia said her goodbye to Sgt. Brown and headed back for the truck.
"Don't forget, my job's going to be open next year. You should put your hat in the ring, son. Bring her, too, so I can marry her," said Brown, gesturing in Olivia's direction. He burst out laughing at Elliot's shocked expression. "I'm just kidding. She's yours."
They shook hands and Elliot watched Brown walk away and start yelling at one of the local cops. Olivia said something over the din and his attention shifted to her. She looked so small and sick, her skin a ghastly pale against her yellow t-shirt.
"You feel okay to drive?" he asked.
"You look like hell, Elliot. I slept a lot yesterday, so I should be fine for awhile."
They pulled away, not taking a last glance at the crime scene. Elliot rested his head on the window and closed his eyes. He couldn't sleep, instead, his mind raced as all the things he wanted to say came tumbling together. The scenery whipped by. The freshly tilled fields of red clay, the small-town cemetaries...
"I'm going to buy Mildred a TV when we get back. For helping us, I mean, she had a twelve inch black and white," OIivia said.
"OK. I'll chip in on that," Elliot said, stretching out. They both stared straight ahead. The sky had turned a bruised gray and the wind was blowing.
"It was you."
Olivia's head snapped in his direction. For a moment, his words hung silently in the air, bouncing off the truck's interior.
"Kathy thought you and I were too close. The job she could handle. But the night we decided to split up, she told me that I'd changed too much since I met you. That my relationship with you was ruining my married life. But Liv, I told her we never..."
He stopped talking. Olivia pulled over and cut the truck off. She seemed stunned.
"Look, you asked me if I was burned out," he continued. "Sometimes it takes all my energy to show up at the precinct. "Things are so damn complicated right now. There's going to come a time when I can't handle it, when I'll put down my gun and badge forever and let someone else protect my friends and family. That time's coming soon, Liv, and I worry about you."
Olivia looked up. "Kathy thought we had a relationship? But she knew...we've never...," she sputtered.
"I told her we were professionals. Friends, maybe. But there was nothing between us."
Olivia put her hands over her eyes for a long minute. Then she bolted from the truck, as Elliot had the day before. He watched her retreat towards a tiny pond ringed with tall weeds that were weighed down by the dampness of the air. She disappeared around a cockeyed shed near the water's edge. The water lapped at the weedy banks, pushed by the winds.
He knew she needed to be alone, but there was still much to say. So he found her behind the shed, arms folded, looking at the sky. Tears ran down her cheeks. He stood beside her, staring at a ramshackle farmhouse across a field.
"Liv, whatever exists between you and me is no one's business except ours."
Their eyes met. "We shouldn't be talking about this," she said, in a hiccupping sob.
The wind was blowing steadily now. The sound of the water became more insistant. Elliot moved purposely into her space.
"I don't want us just to be faces on the street years down the road, always wondering why this couldn't happen. And if it didn't work, well, we'd know it wasn't meant to be," he said. His gaze returned to the little farmhouse. He could see it with a new coat of paint and the front door open, the lawn mowed and the summer air circulating through the living room as the TV droned in the kitchen. Elliot wanted this so badly.
"We can never...," Olivia said, her body shaking convulsively. "You've got anger issues, I've got anger issues...relationships aren't our strong point. We'd never work."
"We've worked this long."
"I can't, Elliot, I'm sorry," she said, and began walking away.
"Goddammit, Olivia, don't walk away from this!"
She stopped in her tracks but didn't look toward him. He wobbled to where she stood. A stinging rain was now falling. Elliot grabbed her wrists and held her arms to his chest. The weeds rippled like waves all around them.
She struggled to free herself. Olivia's watery eyes flashed viciously. "Let me go! Bastard!" she said.
Realizing what was happening, Elliot dropped her arms and hung his head. He couldn't look at her now. The wind blew cool on his back.
It felt like suspended animation. He expected her to turn around and go back to the car. But they just stood there as the rain fell harder. He was so intent on staring at the ground, Elliot jolted when he felt a hand on his cheek. It was Olivia. She wasn't crying anymore. Elliot wrapped his arms around her and she reciprocated.
"I dream about you sometimes," she said, in a whisper he could barely hear.
Their lips met. She tasted like the rain. It was a complicated, wonderful kiss. The weight of the past years began to lift away a little. Elliot felt her tongue against his, her body crushed against his body. When they finally pulled away, he looked over her shoulder at the little house across the field, standing resolute and lonely in the rain and wind.
"It's nobody's business," Elliot whispered in her ear. She nodded, pressing her face against his chest. Everything had narrowed down to this pinpoint in the universe.
He took her hand and led her into the shed. It was full of hay.
They stood facing each other, unable to say anything. She reached for him first.
He'd never forget the smell of the damp grass and the sound of the rain splattering on the surface of the little pond. He'd never forget the sound of her labored breathing in his ear or the love she finally gave so freely. And when they climbed back in the truck, Elliot took one long, last sad glance at the little farmhouse and decided they'd be back someday. Somehow.
It was a long drive back to New York. They talked the whole time, never realizing what implications their new lives would have, or how it would mean the end of a career fought for on so many occasions.
