Reprieve

Fleeterberry

Spoilers: pure speculation for season 23x09/OC 02x09 crossover eps

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

TW: mention of suicidal ideation

He's distracted from the testimony by his phone, namely the silence from Eli, but honestly, anything is more interesting than Angela Wheatley's melodrama at this point. He tries to appear uninterested because she's making quite the production out of looking at him every other question and Wheatley keeps looking over his shoulder with an irrepressible grin and Elliot can't help but feel that this whole fucking trial is a damn performance, from him hiring Liv's friend as his attorney to Angela's agreement to testify to the two women on the jury who can't seem to stop licking their lips when they look at the defendant.

He's aware of Liv every minute and he knows better than to be anywhere near her during this fiasco and still he can't help but wish he were sitting beside her because he feels like he can take anything so long as he's close to her.

He's more annoyed than embarrassed when Angela casually lets it slip that she's in love with him, mostly because it's preposterous, but also because it's purely theatrical and he knows if anyone thought about it they'd arrive at the same conclusion, but no one thinks anymore, they just react and so there's a whole fucking courtroom full of shocked gasps and then a million eyes on him and he's clenching his jaw and squeezing his phone in his fist so hard he's afraid he'll break the damn thing and he wishes he could slip through the floor and just fucking disappear but he can't so he just glares at nothing and wills everyone to look at someone besides him and eventually they do and that's when he finally dares to look at Olivia. He's hoping for understanding because he's seen her checking her phone throughout the afternoon and so he knows she's getting his messages about how Eli didn't show up at school and isn't answering and Bernie swears he left for school hours ago and Jet said he disabled the tracker that had been installed on his phone after he got caught stealing Bernie's pills and somehow instead of appropriately worried and concerned and supportive, Olivia looks irritated and bored, at least, to anyone who doesn't know her like he does. To him, irritated and bored means she's really fucking pissed off and is holding back her anger because she's not in a place where she can safely let it out.

He hopes it's because she can feel the case falling apart the same as he can. That much is clear, really, because Carisi is working with one hand tied behind his back since the judge's rulings are all suspiciously coming in favor of Wheatley and Barba is one slick motherfucker and as obvious as it is to everyone that he doesn't like Wheatley, he's eviscerating everyone who testifies against him and shredding all evidence against the fucker and the jury is so excited to be close to such a famous man that there's no way they're going to be impartial and even Elliot recognizes the fact that, although he knows Wheatley is guilty of Kathy's murder, the evidence doesn't prove it.

Something tells him that Olivia's anger is with him though. Maybe because she is now the only one in the whole room who isn't sneaking glances in his direction. Maybe because she stopped responding to his texts five texts ago. Maybe because she stopped checking them three texts ago.

Probably because he knows he deserves it since Angela Wheatley has just deliberately misrepresented the night he kissed her to make it sound like something far, far more intimate existed between them and he's so fucking furious he could fucking strangle her except he'd rather cut off his own hands than ever touch her again. It's not even the idea that everything is going to hell and that this woman is perjuring herself to send it there and most of his children are sitting there listening to someone implying he fucked the woman who was partially responsible for their mother's murder that's got him fuming. No, it's the idea that he's blown his one chance to have Olivia Benson back in his life.

And knowing that there was a chance she'd let him back in her life is why he's fucking survived the last year.

The judge finally dismisses the circus for the day and Elliot remains glued to his place against the wall as people exit and he can feel their eyes on him as they go and the weight of the stares of the people who haven't left yet and Kathleen is worried about him and about Eli and Maureen is so furious she can't look at him and the twins are having one of their silent conversations and he wants to hug everyone and tell them it's going to be ok, except they're not looking for comfort from him and so he looks at them and tells them that Angela Wheatley is a fucking liar and he's not a bit sure they believe him.

He watches as they go and he's still waiting because he expects that he and Liv will be the last ones to file out the door and of course they'll be shoulder to shoulder when they go and so he'll have her support as they wade through the curious crowd and nosy reporters along with the protection of the cops who will escort them as far as the door of the courthouse and he knows she's good and angry and he's giving her some time to calm down so she can look at him without shooting him and they can go the fuck home for the night.

But as he looks around, he realizes he had miscalculated just how fucking angry she is with him. The room is empty. Olivia left with the crowd. Olivia left him. He can't say that he blames her, but he's still surprised she finally did.

He swallows hard and feels very much alone as the reporters are swarming him and the cops seem to be doing very little to protect him from being attacked by busybodies and he wishes he had stayed in the courtroom for a while longer and hid until they all went home for the night.

Someone shoves a microphone in his face and asks if it's true he's having an affair with the ex-wife of his wife's killer and he wishes for the energy he had as a far younger man when he would have grabbed the asshole by the throat and threatened him until Olivia stepped in to talk him down. Instead he says nothing and stares straight ahead and wonders howthe fuck he missed Angela's blatant involvement in her husband's crime empire except he was out of his fucking mind at the time and has been for years and probably still is.

He sees her as soon as he walks outside and his heart soars at the idea that she didn't really leave him. She's mad, he knows that, and she left him to face the reporters alone, he knows he deserved that, but she's still here and she's leaning against the wall and obviously waiting for him. As he approaches, though, he sees her expression and he suddenly wishes she had left because she's really fucking mad and she's really fucking mad at him and it's clearly not the sort of anger that will just go away if she heads home for the night has a few glasses of wine and so she's waiting to have it out with him and he fucking dreads it because while they disagree all the time, real, actual fights with Olivia are rare and fucking gut him every time.

Rather than raising her voice in anger, it's soft and controlled and somehow more threatening. "Jesus fucking Christ, Elliot, what where you thinking?"

"I wasn't." He stares at the ground because he can't face the angry glare and he knows he doesn't deserve mercy and he's not going to get it if even he can't come up with a good reason for her to show him any. "I'm sorry."

He waits for her response and it doesn't come and so he takes the chance and looks up and he sees the way she's staring off into space and the anger is gone and he can feel her pulling away from him, can see her pulling away from him, and he is watching the inroads he's been working on towards friendship and trust and maybe something more with her all disappearing behind a brick fucking wall of disinterest as though she's finally learned her lesson that he's an undeserving asshole and he really hates that it's happening now, when he needs her more than he's ever needed her.

"Liv, please," he whispers, desperately missing the anger because at least anger is an emotion and that would mean she still cares.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath and when she opens her them again and looks at him, it's the hardened Captain Benson staring him down. Olivia is gone. She shakes her head in disappointment, but when she speaks, he realizes that the disappointment is in herself. "I should have had you pulled off Kathy's case, Elliot. It was a mistake to think you could handle it, I knew it, and so this clusterfuck is on me. This is my fault. I could have prevented this and I should have."

He understands where she's coming from, that it's ingrained in her that the higher ups in an organization have a responsibility to foresee disasters like this case, but he disagrees because he wouldn't have stayed away anyhow, which is likely why she had gone against her better judgement in the first place, and because Richard Wheatley is a fucking snake in the grass who would have exploited justice no matter who worked the damn case.

So he knows why she's trying to take the blame, but he can't let her because he knows it's his fault - the fucked up case, Kathy's death, his missing kid, all of it, and he feels horrible for it, but the thing he feels most guilty over is that he manipulated Olivia. She would have pulled him off the fucking case and he knew she would have and he made promises he had no intention of keeping and mislead her and lied to her goddamn face so she wouldn't and that's not on her, it's on him because he knows, he's always known, that as strong as Olivia Benson is, she can't say no to him.

"Liv-" He wants to confess to her, to tell her everything he's ever done wrong, to her and everyone else, and beg for her forgiveness, but her name barely escapes his lips.

She shakes her head again and holds up her hand like she did that night at the hospital when he was trying to force the issue of how he left and his absence of ten years because he was so fucking numb from the adrenaline in his veins that he couldn't quite recognize how much pain she was in because of him. But it's different this time and she's not willing to listen and she's closing herself off and he can see it happening before his fucking eyes and there's nothing he can do. He had a second fucking chance that he absolutely didn't deserve and he fucking blew it over Angela fucking Wheatley.

"You're not ok, Elliot, you're not thinking clearly. You might be able to fool everyone else, but I know you. I know this calm, rational act is bullshit. This isn't you. I can't be responsible for something happening to you or to the people around you. I won't be."

He's actually shocked. He just stares at her for a long time, trying to understand her words, her threat. He knows her as well as she knows him and he expected personal, a plea for their friendship, for the kids, for Kathy's memory, fuck, if she really wanted to play hardball, for her. Except maybe she really is done and he really has fucking blown up the memory of their friendship and she's not going to appeal to him on a personal level anymore because she doesn't see him on a personal level anymore. He's just a detective now and she's a fucking captain and she knows he's off his fucking rocker and he can't use their fucking friendship to manipulate her anymore because there is no friendship and he feels like there's knife sticking through his fucking heart.

He has to say something, has to try, because he'll fucking die if she actually turns her back on him, but he can't speak and there are tears welling up in his eyes because he can see the writing on the wall and he can't dispute it and he can't fucking stand the idea that he finally pushed her too far and what's worse is that he did it almost a fucking year ago and didn't realize it because she only found out about it today.

"I can't keep coming to the rescue."

Her words are another direct hit and he feels them like a blow because he remembers throwing something similar to them at her so many years ago and now he understands how fucking much they hurt and while they weren't true of her at the time, but he suspects they are true of him now.

He chokes back the lump in his throat and tries to make his voice sound normal despite the tears that are starting to break free and spill down his face and he's glad she's looking away because she'd probably feel bad for breaking him like this. "I'm fine now, Olivia. I wasn't then, I know that, you know that now, my wife had just been murdered and I wasn't thinking clearly, but that was a year ago."

"And what about a month ago, Elliot? Were you thinking clearly then?" Her eyes lock on his and her expression has always been soft when she looks at him, but it's not now. It's hard and angry and truly pissed the fuck off.

He doesn't understand and blinks back at her. "What are you talking about?"

She huffs out a completely humorless laugh. "How many mob bosses wives are you going to fuck before you realize you're not ok? Or are you trying to get one of them to kill you?"

He doesn't know what to say. He didn't know she'd even known about Flutura, but she apparently does and he realizes she's fucking right. Of course she is because she's always fucking right. His life has been spiraling out of control for years now and no one had fucking noticed, not his bosses, not his wife, not his kids, no one. Yet she'd taken one fucking look at him and had known he wasn't ok. She always knew when he needed help. And he really fucking wished he didn't always have to be falling apart so he could be there to notice when she needed him. He's just looking at her and trying to think of what to say and how to defend himself and knowing that she's still talking to him so there must be some way to fix this mess because if she were really done, she'd just go and so there's only one thing he thinks of that might help.

"I didn't fuck Angela." He knows as soon as he says it that it was the wrong thing because though that would have been thoroughly stupid, it would have been understandable or forgivable or something because Kathy had just died but by denying one and not the other it only served to highlight how grossly impaired his judgement still is and that it obviously isn't heading in the right direction.

She closes her eyes and sighs, then stares off over his shoulder with a sad, distant look and her gaze doesn't turn in his direction again. She's done. Really fucking done. Probably, he realizes, because he just confirmed something she'd suspected but had no proof of and was hoping he'd refute it which would give her an excuse to forgive him.

She's slipping away and maybe she's already gone, but he can't stand it and he can't admit it and he can't accept it and he knows it's cruel to try to use their connection to control her right now when she's so fucking raw from realizing how fucking many times he's done so, but he can't let her go, he can't stand to have a life without her in it, not again.

HIs hand moves to her face, his thumb stroking her cheek, desperation obvious in his touch, in his voice. "Liv, I lo-"

She looks at him then, pushing his hand away, her eyes so sharp his words die on his lips, and when she's satisfied he's not going to finish the declaration, she makes a valid point. "This isn't how you treat someone you love."

He swallows hard and tries to hold her eyes because even if she's cold as fucking ice right now he's certain he can win her back if she'll just keep looking at him because so fucking much of their relationship was just looking at one another. And he realizes, although it very much looks like he doesn't care, this truly is how he treats the people he loves. He pushes and mistreats and ignores and abandons and uses them because his father was an abuser and his mother is nuts and he doesn't fucking know how to treat people right, how to take care of them, how to put them first in the way they want and need to be put first, but he knows how to love and he does fucking love her, but he knows she'll never believe that because as fucked up as her life has been, she's never treated anyone the way he treats her.

The tears are back in his eyes and he feels numb and cold and he is honestly very worried that he'll have nothing to live for if she leaves him and he wants to die, he wants to eat his fucking gun right there in front of her but she'd probably think he was just trying to manipulate her and he can't fucking stand it because he thinks she's slipping away but he knows she's already gone.

"Liv, I need you."

She lets him say it, probably because she believes this one, probably because she believes this statement is true. "I'll help you find Eli, Elliot."

His heart soars again, like it did when he first saw her standing there waiting for him, and he thinks maybe he's got another chance to prove that he's not a complete fuck up, to prove that he does love her and he can change and he can be the sort of person she's not embarrassed to know. But then she continues and he knows there's no fucking third chance for him.

"After that, you need to take some time, think about things, get your shit together, you can't stay on the job like this." She's looking down at the ground and her hands are stuffed in her coat pockets and she's deliberately keeping her glance where he can't possibly catch it and he knows she's hurting too, probably as much as he is, and she's trying to keep herself from getting sucked into his empty promises because she's tired of going around and around and around and always winding up in the same place.

And he still thinks that must mean there's some way to repair the damage here, something that will break down those walls he just watched her build, some way to get them moving forward like he's thought they've been moving for a year, and he's trying to figure out what magic combination of words will get her to let him try just one more fucking time. "Tell me what you want me to do." He's staring at her, desperate for some hint, some clue, something he can run with.

"Take care of yourself, ok? Take care of your family." Her whisper is soft, but firm and she's forcing space there, leaving herself out of it because she doesn't count herself among his family anymore and chasm between them is so fucking wide her words echo across the distance.

"No, please, Liv-"

She holds up her hand and her eyes move to his and there's nothing there, no interest, no more concern than she'd have for a stranger. She doesn't want to hear him beg because she's made her decision and nothing he says will make her change her mind. "I can't do this. Not with you, not again."

"What does that mean, Olivia?" It sounds ominous to him, but it can't be because he can't accept that she's done with him because he'll fucking die right there on the spot if he does.

She reaches out and touches his forearm and he feels the pressure of her light squeeze. "It means exactly what you think it means."

And he doesn't understand that it's over because it's never been over and she's never said no to him and he's still convinced there's something he can say or do or both that will get her to forgive him, but he needs something to go on, some fucking suggestion from her and it feels like he was just thinking the same thing and he realizes, once again, that she's right and they have been going around in circles and he desperately wants off the fucking merry-go-round, but he wants off it with her, not left to ride it while she disappears off into the distance.

"Liv, please-" He tries again because she's not bending and he's breaking and he feels like he has to keep saying her name as though he'll never get the chance to say it again once this conversation ends.

"Don't." She steps away and nods toward the parking garage. "Let's go find Eli."

They make it as far as the car before he tries again, insisting on opening the passenger door of his car for her, as though treating her like a fucking lady for once in his fucking life will make up for all the times he's shat on her. Rather than letting him, her body blocks the door even as he's holding the handle, expecting that she'll move to the side, and he's staring at her and waiting for her to move because she said she would help him find Eli and she walked to the car with him and he doesn't understand why she's glaring at him when all he's trying to do is open her damn door and he realizes as she frowns at him and shoots daggers from her eyes that she doesn't need him to open fucking doors for her, she needs him to stop fucking whoring around and actually pay some fucking attention to her and he's still staring and wondering how the fuck he ever worked with her because she's so fucking beautiful he can't stop staring and he wonders if she was always this beautiful and he knows she was and he just never let himself see it or notice it because he's pretty sure he fucking loved her from the first time he looked at her and it was very important to everyone involved that he pretend he didn't.

Except maybe he should have admitted it and showed her how he felt and actually made a fucking move on her because maybe she couldn't read his fucking mind for all those years when he was sitting across from her and trying to stare hard enough for her to hear that he loved her and also probably had no idea that he thought of her so fucking much for the past ten years that he almost believed she was still next to him and all the things he thought were so blatant maybe weren't and he probably should have made sure she knew all the things he thought she knew.

Like the fact that she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen and he loves her so much it hurts and he hates being away from her but he has to stay away from her sometimes because being close to her hurts too.

And she's still staring at him and scowling and he's still gripping the door handle and he doesn't even know what he's doing, but his other hand is on her cheek again and he's leaning in and he doesn't even know what happened, but his cheek is burning and he can hear the crack echoing through the garage.

Ok, so maybe trying to kiss her right now was a bad idea and he totally deserved that slap.

He gives up and walks around the car, trying not to bristle that she absolutely would not let him open the damn door for her while simultaneously not being the least bit slighted that she just cracked him across the face when he tried to kiss her.

He doesn't even know what he's doing or where he's going but Jet told him the last time Eli's phone pinged he seemed to be heading south on the Jersey Turnpike and so Elliot is trying to fight his way through traffic to get to the interstate and Olivia is typing on her phone and his cheek is still burning, but she's sitting beside him still and he finds himself wondering if maybe they could strike a deal where she slaps him every time he does or says something stupid and thus vastly improving their communication skills.

He's silently cursing the traffic and he doesn't bother to say it aloud because he's really not going anywhere specific anyway and grumbling about traffic would just be too fucking dumb, even for him, and so he concentrates on trying to stay calm and not worry about his son or his crumbling relationship with the woman beside him or about the fact that as far as she's concerned the relationship has long since disintegrated beyond salvation and while he's breathing slowly and carefully to keep himself from having a fucking panic attack over his sudden realization that absolutely nothing in his life is under control anymore and he notices that Olivia's typing has sped up and she's sitting up straighter and staring at her phone intently and then she's lifting it to her ear and demanding confirmation from someone about something and he's absolutely terrified that she's about to say she has somewhere else to be that's infinitely more important than him and his problems. When she hangs up, she goes back to typing for a minute.

Then she puts the phone down and he's trying to pretend he's concentrating on merging onto the freeway and he feels her stare and her discomfort and his anxiety ratchets up another ten points and he'd really like the indulgence of a panic attack but he can't because he's merging onto the road at ninety and he can't possibly be the reason Olivia is in fucking car accident again.

He's moving into the left hand lane so he can take out his frustrations on the accelerator when the speaker on her phone pipes up and demands he use the right two lanes to take the next exit. He turns to glance at her and her face is drawn and worried and her lips are pressed together in a thin line and she's staring at the map on her screen and not looking at him and he knows she's not telling him something and he can hardly blame her because he doesn't take bad news well and he fears that's what it is because she's not fucking lecturing him about the way he just nearly drove a car off the road in his haste to follow the directions.

The silence is thick and stifling between them as the voice guides them onto a state route in Newark and then informs him that he's got at least twenty-six miles before he inevitably finds out what she's keeping from him and he can't fucking take that.

"Liv-" His voice sounds thick and choked and broken and unused and he thinks maybe it should stay that way because it'll be much harder to shove his foot in his mouth if he keeps the damn thing closed.

She sighs as though she really wants to go back to the silence. "He's in St. Luke's ER, being held for observation until they can reach a parent." She holds up a hand to stop anything he might have to say. "He's ok, that's all I know."

The statement calms his racing heart and he takes a deep breath. He wants to thank her for her help because it would have taken him a hell of a lot longer to get any news because he would have been screaming and threatening and no one would have been willing to help him but instead they're actually on their way toward his missing son after she's worked on it for twenty minutes and she fucking amazes him and he can't even tell her that because she won't believe him.

He can feel the tears threatening again, partially in relief that his son is ok, partially because there's maybe a foot between him and the woman next to him and he's never felt so fucking far away from her, not even when he was in a different fucking country and he knows she's mad as hell, but he knows he can change and he can treat her right and he just has to earn one more goddamn chance from her and he'll die if he can't have it.

He scrubs his hand down his face and tightens his fists around the wheel and he feels like his whole life is this car, speeding down a road in the dark except there's no steering wheel and no brakes and he's just watching everything slide away from him. He swallows hard and forces the lump of sobs out of his throat and scrapes out a low whisper.

"Thank you."

He's sitting there, staring out the windshield and he can see her reach for him and he can feel her skin on his and she's pulling his hand off the wheel so she can wrap her fingers around it and he can't fucking believe she's doing this and he can't understand what it means, but he thinks it means something good and he wants to speak again, to thank her again, to promise her he really won't fuck up this time if she's really willing to give him this chance that he's so desperate for, but the lump is back and the tears are falling and so he rubs his thumb over her fingers and hopes this intimacy that they've never shared before tells her what he means to say and what she needs to hear.

He glances down because he needs to reassure himself this is happening, that this is real, that this is not one of those fucking fantasies he had in Rome that was so fucking vivid he couldn't believe she wasn't there with him, but unlike all those times in Rome, when he looks down, her hand is still there, still holding his, still letting him caress her skin.

He's not surprised when her grip loosens and he knows he should take what she gave him and be happy with it, but he's a greedy, starving bastard and he needs her more than he needs air and so he grips tighter, clinging to the two fingers of hers he has in his grasp like she's his fucking lifeline because she is his fucking lifeline.

"I'll do whatever it takes, Liv. I'll go back to therapy. I'll take a leave of absence. I'll quit. Whatever you want. I want to fix this. I want to fix us." His voice is soft and shaky and he's terrified that he's going to say the wrong thing and he's aware he's revealing the big fucking secret that he had this whole fucking delusion going on about them being something more most of the time they worked together and he always thought she felt the same but he's never as good at reading her as he thinks he is, but he hopes she hears the conviction and the determination and the intent, which is pure, and he never said these things to Kathy no matter how much she probably deserved to hear them too, but he'll say them to Liv because she's fucking Olivia and he cannot live without her and he'll do absolutely anything to make it better.

"Not now, Elliot." He hears her sigh and he realizes how fucking tired she must be of worrying about him and his mistakes and his children and all the things he should be taking care of while she's trying to deal with her own life too. But she's not pulling her hand away anymore, so there's that.

Although, that might have to do with the vise grip he has on her.

And so he releases her, leaving his hand under hers and his fingers lightly curled around hers and hopes like hell she doesn't pull away and recognizing, not for the first time, that refusing to let go of things might not be the best way to keep them close. He waits for what feels like forever and when she doesn't move her hand, he decides that's a positive sign. Maybe he's capable of learning. Maybe she's really willing to give him another try.

He swallows hard and he knows he shouldn't, but he knows she doesn't believe it and he wants to keep telling her until she knows it's true. "I love you."

He can feel the shudder run through her, right into the hand that's still resting on his and she didn't cut him off and she still isn't pulling away either. "You need to deal with all this shit, Elliot. You can't keep doing this to me."

He holds his breath and waits for her to pull away, to jump out of the car, to run away from having said something so personal to him, especially when she's so angry at him, but she doesn't and he realizes that's because she's a fucking grownup and she wants him to be one too. So he nods and makes a promise he actually intends to keep. "I swear to you, Liv, I can change." He wants to look at her and read her expression but he's barrelling down a state highway in the dark and it would really suck to lose control of the car when he believes they're finally getting somewhere, no, really this time. And so he puts himself out on a limb, somehow moreso than when he confessed his love, maybe because he's told a lot of people he loves them in his life, but has never been able to promise anyone that he would change. "If you give me one more fucking chance, I will never hurt you again."

He's terrified, admitting that he knows he's hurt her and that he can change and that maybe the only reason he hasn't changed is because he's not convinced it will make a difference to her. Her hand is still resting on his and he wants to squeeze it, to somehow underscore his point that he needs something back from her, he needs a fucking goal and if he has one, he can fucking achieve it, but he doesn't tighten his grip because he doesn't want to force her to pull away and he's scared that she will if he tries to ask any more of her.

But her hand stays still and her voice sounds different, less defeated, less angry than it had at the courthouse. "This is your last warning. I mean it, Elliot."

And he knows she does and he means it too, both that he will fix this and that he loves her and right now he thinks maybe, just maybe, she believes him and that this evening was enough tough love to actually scare him straight, He worries his bottom lip between his teeth and makes a decision, takes another chance, turns his hand over underneath hers, spreading his fingers apart and issuing the invitation.

A long, heartstopping eternity of fear later, he feels her fingers lace through his and he knows he could conquer the world right now as long as their palms stay pressed together.