It's the Season of Possible Miracle Cures

by Special Fanfic Unit

Prompt #10: Elliot and Olivia surprise each other with gifts

Prompt #10: Elliot and Olivia surprise each other with gifts

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It's the Season of Possible Miracle Cures

~oOo~

And so this is Christmas.

Or rather, it's 11:13 AM on the Twenty-Fourth of December, and Olivia's getting ready to go to Sergeant Bell's celebratory luncheon after OC managed to successfully shut down the Kosta Organization.

It happened by chance, this event being scheduled so close to Christmas. Just a product of all of their very busy, very unpredictable lives. It was just her luck, too, because this unfortunate coincidence was the sole culprit for her insomniac status this past week. It's been over a decade since she attended anything that even resembled a festive function, and even back in the day she'd usually avoided it, always felt a little out of place.

If she were honest, she'd been about to say no to the invitation the week before, had an excuse about spending the day with Noah on the tip of her tongue when she remembered Amanda had offered to take him and the girls to see a Christmas play early today (Olivia was sure Carisi was joining them and that's why she wasn't invited — she'd have to confront those two about disclosing soon). But in the end she'd realized she wanted to go to this lunch. She misses Ayanna, even if things between them were left a bit strained after the Gabe Navarro operation. She'd had no qualms about asking her for help a mere two weeks after, but Olivia decided to take this invitation as an apology of sorts.

An apology Amanda made sure to point out she never really offered, by the way — a comment that, in retrospect, only left her feeling morose. As much as the betrayal hurt her, hurts her still, Olivia's come to the depressing realization that if she shuts out everyone who's ever gone behind her back in her line of work, she'd completely isolate herself. Besides, at the end of the day, the Sergeant isn't the one who's hurt her the most, nor are most of her squad. And if a decade worth of radio silence isn't enough for her to give up on the person who did...

This decision, however, has cost her greatly. Because he'd be there. He'd been the center of the operation, of course he'd be there. And that meant she had to get him a Christmas present. She'd already decided she'd get them all some nice chocolate from a fancy store and call it a day. But he was different. They'd spent seven Christmases together and six apart, back when they were partners, and even then only three had been spent in a celebratory fashion: one during their first year, when he still invited her over to his house, and two NYPD end of the year parties they quickly learned to avoid at all costs. Still, she can't quite remember when or how it came about — maybe after the second Secret Santa Fiasco in '99? — but they'd entered into a competition over who gave the best gifts, and they'd taken it very, very seriously.

So seriously, in fact, she'd spent the better part of a year working on his last gift, back in 2011. She'd been sure he wouldn't be able to beat her that year. Joke's on her, he wasn't even there to wish her Merry Christmas let alone give her a present. So naturally, she put it away with all the other mementos he'd left behind and refused to ever think about it again.

Until now.

I haven't thought about this silly tradition in ten years.

She realizes looking nostalgically in the mirror isn't going to take her anywhere, and lets out a frustrated breath. She only has her plain black underwear on because none of her clothes feel right this morning.

When did my wardrobe turn into a widow's?

It is now 11:17, and she still needs to stop by that chocolate shop.

Ding dong.

That should be Amanda. She's still looking for her robe when she hears her son walking to the door, so she calls out, "Noah, remember to check the—".

"Peephole, mom, I got it!" the smug little bastard replies, followed by the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. "Hey, guys!"

She half expects to see Carisi by the door, which prompts her to finally pull out some warm pants and a white blouse from her closet, telling herself she still has a red coat and some light makeup she can use for Christmas cheer. She moves quickly but by the time she manages to greet the joyful little group, they are all ready to go.

So she grabs the aforementioned coat and the purse she'd left by the door last night, his gift already inside. Lest she lose her nerve, or worse, Amanda dares to ask her about it.

~oOo~

For the most part, Elliot's been dreading Christmastime. And he has his reasons to.

The fact that it always brings the cold with it, even though he's no longer used to its bite.

The fact it'll bring Wheatley's trial.

The fact it'll be the first one since…

Yet, ever since Bell let it slip Olivia had accepted her invitation a couple of days ago, he'd had something to look forward to as well.

He knows the list of things he owes her for keeps growing with their every encounter, of course, he does, and that she deserves so much more than he'd ever be able to give her. He's also very aware of how much of a mess his life is, and he's been keeping it as distant from hers as he can manage without completely disappearing all over again. But this is different because, for the first in a very long time, she's choosing to be where he is, no big case or great tragedy compelling her. She's not going just to check that he's still alive or hasn't been completely obliterated by his UC alter ego.

She's just— going to be there.

And so will he.

It terrifies him, but it also makes him feel warm and hopeful and a lot of other feelings he'd long accepted belonged in his past.

Checking that he's got both his phone and his wallet, he walks into the living room and kneels down under the tree — a tree his mother kindly set up so Eli would have something akin to normalcy to cling to during the holidays — and looks for Olivia's present.

"Elliot, dear, have you spoken to Eli today?"

Speak of the Devil.

"Yes Mama, he's at Maureen's for the afternoon but I'll pick him up on my way back."

"Oh, good, good…"

She's been sounding increasingly sane lately and as much as it makes him happy, a part of him worries it's him who's been growing crazy instead. "Are Katie and the twins coming tonight?" Bernie insists.

"Kathleen said she'd be here, Dickie said he'd drop by after work because he drew the short end of the stick and got stuck in the offi—". He stops talking when he finally spots the medium-sized blue box hiding behind a bigger box containing the new easel he'd gotten Bernie. "Ok, found it," he mumbles to himself.

If he were looking he would have seen Bernie's eyebrow form an elegant arc in suspicion, but he was too busy searching for the smaller packets containing the earrings he'd bought for Bell and Jet (he didn't care much for the others, let alone Brewster, and was never one to kiss ass).

"Ok, that's everything," he breathes out as he stands up, "I'll see you later, Mama—"

"Elliot." She stops him by the door, suddenly serious, handing him a bag to put the packets in. He has this gnawing suspicion this isn't the real reason she called him though.

"Yeah?" He wonders if he'll ever stop being afraid her good days will transform into her worst, even when she's been taking her meds for a while now.

"What about Lizzie?"

"Oh," he lets out the breath he was holding, "she hasn't answered yet but you know how she is, she's probably distracted with her books and forgot to check her phone." He leaves the gift bag by his feet to wrap both hands around her shoulders in comfort. "She'll show up." And with a quick kiss dropped on her head, he takes the bag, turns on his heels, and rushes out checking his watch.

11:23. It's okay, he's got time.

"Oh, and Elliot?" Bernie calls back when he's already fifteen feet away.

"Yeah?"

"Tell Olivia I said Hi."

~oOo~

Captain Benson arrives precisely at noon, looking flawless with a red coat and perfectly styled hair. Denise hates to admit it but part of her is glad Ayanna no longer spends so much one on one time with her. She's just kidding, of course, even in thought. She trusts her wife completely, and with the few stories she's heard from her, it appears like the Captain and Stabler have some weird, unresolved tension between them.

She's not particularly fond of him, but...

"See what I told you, babe?" Ayanna asks, nodding toward the Captain, who appears to be scanning the room looking for something. Or someone.

She just smiles back.

This lunch is going to be interesting.

~oOo~

"Hey Liv, I'm so glad you could make it," Ayanna tells her from her spot beside her wife as soon as she walks over.

After a quick perusal, Olivia realizes she doesn't really know anyone else at the table, so she gives those men a quick nod and sits herself directly in front of Denise, right in the middle of the lined-up tables. It's still early, and there aren't many people there yet.

"So am I," she replies, honestly, but her voice must give some of her unease away. It's always harder to mask it when she's not working.

"So listen, about that case—" Bell starts softly.

"Don't worry about it, Ayanna, you were doing your job."

They both nod at each other in understanding, before Ayanna adds playfully, "Oh, I know that, Captain Benson, I just meant to ask if you knew about Stabler saving that Rita girl. Did he ever tell you he actually stole some poor cop's motorbike?"

Olivia bites her tongue before it betrays her and lets something like, 'since when does Stabler tell me anything?' slip out. As it is, she merely shakes her head in denial and prepares to hear the story.

~oOo~

She's already there when he arrives.

His hand feels sweaty where it wraps around the gift bag, so he dries it on his trousers.

They used to always know it when the other entered a room, used to anticipate each other's movements as if they were their own. He'd always attributed it to practice, to mere proximity growing into intimacy over time. But the way her back straightens up just as he passes the doorway makes him question his reasoning.

Everything that's happened since he came back has him questioning his old self. His beliefs, his truths, his choices…

He approaches the end of the table first, dutifully greeting Lieutenant Brewster, Moenning, Maldonado, and even Washburn, who had been transferred to another unit, before making his way to the center where she sat with his Sergeant.

"Hey Serg," he greets. "Liv."

He sits down on the empty seat next to her. He's thankful for more than one reason that this seat is empty. He can't look at her. These days, he's afraid if he so much as glances at her he'll give himself away, all his greedy thoughts of her made obvious to anyone with eyes.

"Hey Stabler, I was just here telling Liv about how you risked everything to save that girl, Rita... What did she call you again?"

He hates that Reggie let it slip when they had him in for questioning, this nickname she gave him. It'd been tender between them, nice even, but he didn't like how it exposed his heart in front of all of his coworkers. He was never going to live this down.

He tries to keep his face blank but when he feels his cheeks warm up without his permission, he lets a hand go up to rub his face in embarrassment.

I miss my beard.

"Officer Monte Cristo," comes the muffled reply.

"She downgraded you to an officer, Detective?" Ayanna jokes further. He hates it when she's in this sort of mood.

He's still covering his eyes when he feels a delicate hand rest on his arm and every last hair on his body stands to attention. He doesn't move for a long moment, afraid to scare her off, but curiosity wins out in the end and he drops it in order to look at her.

Olivia's staring straight at him with soft, beautiful, brown eyes and the tiniest smile gracing her lips, the ghost of her fingers still brushing his shirt. The last time she'd looked at him like this, proud and happy, he'd refused to let go of her hand for longer than was acceptable. But that interaction only lasted a couple of minutes. How is he supposed to survive for over an hour by her side today?

She finally looks away, letting her hand fall completely as she turns to his Sergeant to say confidently, "You should get used to it, Elliot always puts the victims first."

And the relief he feels just then, listening to her be so sure of her knowledge of him, of his worth, gives him back a part of himself he didn't know he was missing. It's so strong, in fact, his whole body relaxes for what feels like the first time in a decade.

~oOo~

"Jet!" Bell calls out to her. "What took you so long?"

"Life," is her noncommittal reply. "Have I missed the gift trading or...?"

"I'm afraid not."

Aw, shucks. So her plan to cut her social time down hadn't worked after all.

"We've only been talking while these two make eyes at each other," Bell adds, pointing to the couple in front of her.

This is weird, the Sergeant isn't usually this thoughtless with her words, and out of the corner of her eye, she can see both the Captain and Stabler shift awkwardly in their chair.

"Babe, how many beers have you had on an empty stomach?" she hears Mrs. Bell ask from her place at the woman's other side — God knows she sucks at remembering people's names.

"Denise, please! Don't be a spoilsport. You know I earned it." Oh, there it is, Denise.

"Alright, but let's order something already, I don't want you to be sick."

Jet just got here and she's already drained.

This lunch is gonna be long.

~oOo~

Ever since Ayanna had told her the little story about Elliot, Olivia's feelings have been all over the place (and his proximity wasn't helping matters any).

Her immediate reaction had been pride, of course. Relief that all her instincts to trust him had been right after all. But the longer she mulled over it, the more convoluted it all felt. For one, she felt guilty for having doubted him in the first place, for not defending him completely when Amanda insinuated maybe Olivia didn't know him as well as she'd thought anymore. Then she felt stupid for feeling this way, for forgiving so easily when it's clear she didn't know him at all, because her partner wouldn't have left her. Twice. At the very least he'd have come back when—

No, she shakes her head. Not going there today.

Truth be told, sometimes she feels like this man, this tall, strong man (even stronger than she remembered) wasn't Elliot at all. Because her Elliot — not her Elliot, the Elliot she knew — he didn't say things like, 'I love you' or, 'You mean the world to me'. Not while looking into her eyes. He also didn't give her heartbreaking letters just to recant them in the middle of the night when he was high as a kite. And for the life of her, Olivia has absolutely no frame of reference to compare the way he clung to her waist, knelt in front of her, and looked at her — touched her as if she was something holy — to any other experience in all the fifty-three years of her life. Let alone one that involved her old partner.

So, she decides, this impostor may look like him, sound like him, but it's definitely not him. Therefore she doesn't have to waste any more time worrying about this. Those were all just flukes, she just needs to forget them. Him. All of it. Just focus on the present.

Now, what should she order?

"Liv?" comes his ragged breath against her left cheek, startling her into looking at him. "How about I order the chicken? That way when you order the Caesar salad you'll have something to add to it, hmm?"

And then, sometimes, he's so much her partner — the one she was convinced she'd never see again — that she thinks she's going to cry.

"Yeah, Elliot," she answers, "we can share."

~oOo~

The first thing Fin sees when he gets there a whole half-hour late gives him a strong sense of deja vu.

Suddenly he's back in the 2000s, watching Benson and Stabler eat off each other's plates as if sharing food with your colleague was the most natural thing in the world.

When are these two gonna get their heads out of their asses?

It's even more jarring now, in the middle of a goddamned pandemic, but he's not gonna be the one to bring it up to them and by the way the rest of the table seems to be purposefully overlooking them, they wouldn't either.

Speaking of, the only free chair is the one next to Stabler — figures — and in front of that somber girl who looks too damn young to be working Organized Crime. Fin chuckles as he sits down, amused beyond measure that, even though Liv invited him so she wouldn't be the odd one out, neither she nor Elliot even seemed to register his presence.

"Hey," says the kid, looking up from her phone, "you work with Captain Benson, right?"

"Name's Fin." He nods.

"Cool," she replies, already looking back down at her screen before adding, "I'm not good with names." As if to inform him she's not here to people-please or kiss anyone's ass.

He likes her already.

"Me neither, kid."

She squeezes her eyes a bit, clearly upset at being called a kid the way only kids could be, before deciding that took too much of her energy by shrugging and informing him, "I'm Jet."

"A'ight, Jet, and why aren't you eating like everyone else here?"

She shrugs again. "I can't eat a whole dish by myself."

"Wanna share one?"

She pulls a face, uncomfortable, and shoots a fleeting look at the love birds to his right.

"Not like that." He laughs. "I just meant we could order one meal and ask for two plates. I'm not all that hungry either."

"Oh," she says, and if she was more expressive, he's sure she'd look relieved. "Okay... I have the online menu opened here somewhere."

Jet's a real quiet girl, so it surprises him when, after they settle on their order, she gives in and asks, "Are they always like this?"

Fin only leans back in his chair, amused.

"You try working with them for eleven years."

She scrunches her nose. "Ew."

~oOo~

Elliot is vaguely aware that Fin just pulled up the chair next to his and is now making conversation with Jet, but quite honestly, right now, he can't be bothered to turn around for any more empty chit chat. His chair is slightly turned toward hers, his left arm is unceremoniously draped around his plate so he can rest some of his weight on it with the way he's sitting almost sideways. Sometimes, when Olivia goes for another bite of his chicken, her hand will brush lightly against it which, combined with the scent of her perfume, is more than enough to convince him that being polite is highly overrated.

This feels both old and new, comforting and exciting. Elliot feels drunk on possibility, because when he's this close to her he can't remember all the reasons why they can't.

"You done?" she asks, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Huh?"

"Are you done eating?" she asks again, slowly, making fun of him as if she wasn't the one responsible for his inarticulate state.

"Nah, just got distracted," he tells her honestly and takes another bite of her salad.

"This is pretty good," she says about the food.

"It is," he agrees about everything else. "Though, to be fair, it's not that hard to beat the microwaved or even cold takeout we used to share."

He's pleased his attempt at humor relieved enough of the tension to allow her to smile.

"I didn't mind," she says, wistful.

Yeah, he didn't either. It's embarrassing how often he'd longed for said takeout when eating some delicious carbonara.

"At least with me gone, your precious cheesecakes were safe," he jokes because this isn't the time or place to get into the heavy stuff. Plus, he's enjoying this trip down memory lane too much to risk ruining it. It's exactly what he'd been hoping to achieve with his gift: he wanted to show her that, no matter what life may throw their way — no matter what that letter said — this right here, their connection, will stay the same.

"Speaking of dessert," she says, after she chews on the last of his chicken and lays her fork down, "I have something for you. Well, all of you." She circles a finger around and scrunches her nose when her eyes catch something behind him. "Fin's here."

"Yeah," he chuckles, "he's been here a while, Liv. I think your detective skills are getting rusty now that you're a Cap—" but he doesn't finish his sentence because her hand slaps his bicep. Hard. "Ow!"

"Watch it, Detective Stabler."

God, it's sinful how much he enjoys hearing her call him that in that low, silky voice of hers.

"You were saying you have something for me?" He nudges because he needs a distraction.

She rolls her eyes but acquiesces and reaches behind her chair for a brown, fancy bag.

"Here," she says, handing him a box of assorted peppermint chocolate truffles. They're his favorite, a special edition sold only during the holiday season, and he's touched. That is until she turns around and hands a similar box to Bell and another to her wife. When she gets up to do the same to Jet and Fin, he's downright pissed.

Why am I even angry? With everything I did to her, I'm lucky she even got me anything at all.

He pushes the disappointment down, wondering how he's going to give her his own gift. It feels way too intimate now. But there's no time to get her anything else, and he couldn't leave her thinking he didn't care enough to get her something.

"That box of chocolate do somethin' to you, Stabler?" Bell's voice snaps him out of it.

"Uh, no. These are my favorite, actually," he says, hating how petty it comes out. He hears a snicker — was it Fin? — but there's only one person's reaction he's worried about right now, and she's slowly making her way back to her chair.

Bell raises a single eyebrow, but the effect is more comical than inquiring. She really is on the wrong side of tipsy, so he hopes she'll just forget whatever it is she thinks she's figured out about him and his feelings.

"Hey, El, what's going on?" Liv asks, sitting back down beside him.

He's saved from both partners' curious eyes by the waiter, who asks if he can collect the dishes.

Phew.

~oOo~

Denise is going to kill her.

Now, Ayanna is not a heavy drinker. She's usually very responsible and perfectly in control.

She's not even really drunk, right now, she's just had a couple more drinks than usual. That, combined with her once empty stomach and the excitement of a successful operation were enough to leave her a bit too loose. She wants to be happy for her, tells herself she deserves to let go, with all the stress their whole family has been through lately.

But she herself is breastfeeding, which means she cannot partake in the same kind of letting go.

And it's enough to guarantee she won't wake up to help her when their baby wakes up at night, besides rendering her entirely useless as a source of information on Stabler and Captain... Benton? Bendon? Ugh—

She's stuck here, in front of them, beside her tipsy wife and the guy who's snatched said wife's promotion. She's bored out of her mind. She'd been so excited to spend a few hours as a full-functioning woman — not just a mother — and instead, she's stuck watching a movie that might have been interesting if only she hadn't caught it halfway through.

These two are ridiculous. She huffs, watching the detective's forlorn expression when the Captain gets up for a minute.

That gets Ayanna's attention.

"That box of chocolate do somethin' to you, Stabler?"

~oOo~

"This was very nice of her," Jet says, picking a truffle and bringing it to her mouth.

Fin laughs. "Don't let her hear you say that."

"What, she doesn't want to be nice?" she asks, puzzled.

"It's not that, just…" he furrows his brow, "she's got a tough persona to maintain these days…"

She glances at where the Captain is sitting, smiling at Stabler as he gives her one of his truffles and shrugs. "I don't see it."

Fin laughs even harder. "Guess even hardened Captains deserve a day off every now and again."

"Hmm," she agrees, looking around the table. Everyone seems to be having a good time. She hasn't been working with the NYPD very long but still, the amount of trauma and loss she's seen these people experience can't be healthy. It's nice to see them have fun for a change. As she looks ahead at her new friend, she adds, "and so do Sergeants."

He smiles, a genuine one.

This wasn't so bad.

She's glad she came.

~oOo~

Olivia's happy. For all the anticipation and fear she'd been battling about coming today, she'd never let herself hope for such a nice lunch. She doesn't know what it is, exactly, but it feels like an enormous weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

That's a lie.

She does know.

It feels like I've finally got my partner back.

Except this thought sets off all the alarms inside her head. She'd gone down that road before — about six months ago to be precise, and it was a mistake.

What the hell am I doing? Get a grip.

All at once, she feels her shoulders tense, her throat go dry. This is precisely what Amanda had been warning her about. Her stupid, masochist of a heart wants so badly to believe he cares about her. She can't allow it to keep fabricating these subliminal narratives where he feels the same things she does.

But in a parallel universe…

He'd said that.

…it will always be you and I.

He was high.

This is the kind of bullshit her therapist had pointed out to her the few times she'd dared to bring Elliot up. This is the old codependency talking, making her believe she needs him, needs this bond, when it's all false. Who knows if he even remembers having that conversation. He never came looking for her sober. In fact, he only ever comes looking for her when he's in trouble, when he's sober there's always someone else he prefers to spend his time with… (What's the name of the latest one, again, Flu-tu-ra?). She can't trust this — him — can't let herself feel safe in his company again just to have him take it away once more. A third time.

She swallows.

Reality crashes are never fun.

"Liv?" his soft voice murmurs, his hot breath close to her ear mixing with the warmth of his big palm on her back and making her shiver.

She closes her eyes tightly in embarrassment.

Dumb move, because now he's even more concerned, coming even further into her personal space, his left hand finding her chin to guide her face towards his. "What is it, Olivia?"

Her heart is beating twice as fast.

She doesn't know how much longer she can do this— this roller coaster of emotions he unknowingly rouses in her. He's been so erratic lately, so unpredictable, she'd had to be the strong one, the sane one.

But it's too much.

She's mortified when her eyes begin to burn, blinks them wildly, terrified a tear will fall and give her away.

"Olivia," he tries again, "look at me."

She does, instinctively, and it's a mistake.

She can't keep her guard up when she looks into his eyes but, god, she also can't let herself crumble here for all his squad to see.

"Excuse me," she's thankful that her voice comes out a whisper instead of a wet garbled mess, "I need to—"

She gets up on unsteady feet but just this little distance is enough for her to find her footing and it's only when she swallows her emotions that she remembers she can't leave the restaurant without paying.

She goes to the bathroom instead.

~oOo~

If Fin had a dollar for every time Stabler fucks up, he'd be a millionaire. He'd been actually enjoying himself until he saw Liv pass by him and rush to the bathroom. He didn't need anything else to know it was his doing.

Now he's pissed.

Without warning, he turns to Elliot, who still has his back to him, and pulls him to face him by the shoulder. "What the hell is your problem, Stabler?!"

"Wha—"

"What the fuck did you say to her?"

To his credit, the guy goes white as a sheet, wide eyes nothing but confused and sad.

"I know I'm a fuck up, but I swear I didn't—"

The bastard looks pitiful, all pale and sweaty, so he takes pity on him.

"A'ight, I believe you man, but why are you here?"

"Huh?"

"The Elliot I remember would've gone after his partner by now."

That does it. He jumps up from his chair and runs after her, as it should be.

Fin sighs.

He deserves an extra salary just for dealing with them. A therapist's salary.

~oOo~

To say Elliot's confused is an understatement.

He feels blindsided.

One minute Olivia's giving him a Christmas gift and they're happily sharing the peppermint truffles, and the next she's upset— no, she's heartbroken and running away from him as if he was the devil himself.

There must be an explanation for her erratic behavior. Olivia's not like this. She doesn't do public emotional breakdowns. Nor private ones, really.

Or does she?

What if something happened in the time he was gone to warrant such a reaction?

He reaches the bathroom door just as she's coming out, her face clean of the makeup it had sported, her eyes slightly red but otherwise just as gorgeous as she looked before. Maybe more so.

"Olivia, please, tell me what happened. Was it something I—"

She puts her hand on his chest to stop him, "Stop, El, I just…"

"You just?" he asks, softly.

"I was overwhelmed," she settles, a minute later.

He can understand that. He doesn't know the details or the reasons for her reaction but he certainly understands being overcome with emotion lately.

"I get that," he tells her.

She looks incredibly thankful that he's decided not to pry. He just wants to get her back to that cozy place they'd been in all day, so he swallows his own fears and says, "I still haven't given you my gift."

"Oh?" It comes out soft and hopeful, if a little sad. It only serves to make him even more eager to give it to her. He knows it will cheer her up.

"Come on, it's back at the table," he states the obvious, hoping it'll distract her from the fact he just took her hand in his.

If she notices, she doesn't complain as he leads her back to her chair.

~oOo~

Olivia doesn't know what it says about her that it's a surprise when Elliot tells her he's got her something for Christmas. Early this morning she'd been sure of it, sure their silly tradition would have survived their decade apart, just as his trust in her did. Hell, his trust more than survived, it transformed into a sort of blind faith that sometimes overwhelmed her with its intensity. She envies him for that trust, remembers how it used to feel, being able to trust someone so completely. But then again, she never left him, and now she's left with this fear instead. The one that was born from his abandonment but made stronger by every year he'd spent away, every trauma she'd survived without him, and every derisive comment she'd heard about him (thought about him). The fear rears its head sometimes, making her question all of her instincts, leaving her so unsettled all she wants is the safety and security of the life she's made without him.

His palm is sweaty in hers. How is he always so warm, even in December? She'd only grown colder with age.

He lets go when they reach their seats, reaching for the big bag hooked on the back of his chair.

"Oh, right," he mumbles, as if he'd just remembered something, "here." He finishes louder, taking a pretty white box and handing it to Ayanna.

"Thanks, Elliot," she says warmly, looking up from her conversation with her wife, before she blinks worried. "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't think to buy you anythi—"

"That's alright," he interrupts. "Between this lunch and all the messes you had to clean up, I think we're even."

"When you put it like that Stabler, I think you owe me a couple dozen gifts," she quips, a thankful smile still on her face.

He just nods and turns to get Jet's attention.

Is she laughing with Fin? He would have to ask the Sergeant what it was that had that usually stoic girl laughing like that, it must have been a really good joke.

"Oh," Jet startles when Elliot pushes an identical box toward her on the table, "thanks."

If she opens it, Olivia doesn't get to see it because Elliot's already turning to her, a much bigger box in his hands. She doesn't remember her heart beating this quickly the last time they'd swapped Christmas gifts.

Oh please, not shaky hands too.

She swallows, hiding her left hand between her legs and flattening the right one on the table before reaching for the box. As she looks up to him, though, she realizes she shouldn't have worried about him noticing, what with the way he's averting his eyes, all pink cheeks, and restless hands.

He's nervous too.

That's enough to give her courage, and she lifts the lid.

Oh.

Olivia swallows once more, overwhelmed yet again by a completely different feeling.

"El, is that?" she starts, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes.

"Yes!" he replies, a bit too anxiously, too loudly, so he clears his throat before continuing in a lower voice, "I— I mean, I don't know if you remember, we never really talked about it, but— do you remember back when we were partners, I think it was right after you came back from Oregon — or did it start before that? — I don't know..." he rambles, eyes darting wildly around the room.

She's perplexed...

I thought he hadn't even noticed.

Mesmerized…

So he took comfort in sharing it as well? It wasn't just me?

…quiet for way too long, apparently, because he grumbles out, "Please, don't leave me hanging any longer."

It's such a pitiful sound, it shakes her out of her stunned state.

"Elliot," she says reverently, taking the grey hoodie out of the box when something catches her eye. "El?"

She can't even admonish herself when she hears how weak her voice is, because right there, embroidered on the inner side of the hoodie's back seam, is 4015 6313. Their badge numbers from when they were partners, side by side. Just like they used to be.

When she looks up into his eyes now, he doesn't avoid it, looks back at her with the same intensity he used to reserve for intimidating perps and life or death situations only. Except he's neither angry nor scared when he says, "I had it with me the whole time."

"The hoodie?"

"Yes," he mumbles, "and I'm an asshole 'cause it was me who left, but I still couldn't part with it, leave it for you…"

She'd gotten her own, but she's not about to tell him that, so she just snorts in response, and a tear escapes her eyes unannounced. She quickly wipes it, before quipping, "What else is new?"

He chuckles while her thumb runs through the embroidery.

"This is."

"Huh?" Her brow furrows.

"That's new." He points to the numbers. "I found it a few months ago when I moved into the house, used to keep it in one of my drawers back in Rome."

There's no need for him to say it, Olivia knows. Knows he couldn't have kept it so close to him — to Kathy — if its meaning was made explicit by those numbers, not after that letter made it clear she wasn't oblivious to this connection between them.

"So, when?" she asks, breathless.

"That same week, right before I went undercover," he tells her earnestly. "I wanted to give it to you then, you know?"

Olivia gasps. Why didn't you?

As if he hears her, he responds, "But then I realized I had no right," accompanied by a self-deprecating laugh.

His cluelessness makes her angry. She's so tired of his misplaced nobility costing her everything.

"Oh, right," she snaps. "So you figured ghosting me was better since it worked out so well for you last time?"

His eyes widen comically. "Hey! That's not fair, I didn't— I sent you—"

She interrupts him in a derisive tone. "Do you mean to tell me sending a 'gone UC, talk to you when I can' at 2AM on a fucking Tuesday is better?" She hates how emotional she sounds, even if the emotion is mostly anger. "After," her voice hitches, "after I'd just been in that accident." She's so quiet she isn't sure he heard it. Isn't sure she wants him to hear it.

"God, Liv," he interjects, alarmed, "you gotta know I wanted to be there for you."

She feels her eyes grow wet and she hates him for still having that kind of power over her. "You say that now," she braves a look into his eyes, "but you also said it felt good, not being yourself for a while."

Not being with me, for a while.

It's implied.

Isn't a decade long enough?

His face falls at that and he just looks so… sad.

"I never wanted—" he tries, pauses, starts again in a small voice. "You did so well without me."

Olivia thinks he sounds resigned, but the noise inside her head is too loud for her to be sure.

He thinks she did well?

He doesn't know?

How could he not—

How could he know?

"Liv?" he calls her softly and she realizes she's been squeezing the hoodie tight in her fists.

She blinks up at him, trying to clear her head enough to reassure him, but it's hard. So many things she'd thought she knew about him — about them had shifted in the last hour. She felt she might as well be living inside one of his parallel universes. She closes her eyes, takes a deep, calming breath, and waits for her racing heart to calm down. Eventually, she feels his big warm hand wrap around hers on the hoodie.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Last time, she'd felt the need to ask him to clarify, felt the apology alone wasn't enough — didn't come close to being enough for all the heartache he'd put her through. Now, however, he'd given her proof that they'd been real, that however much she'd missed him when he left, he'd missed her too. Suddenly, all those words he'd been telling her — 'If I heard your voice I wouldn't have been able to leave', and 'You would have loved it' and so many others — they didn't sound so empty anymore. Didn't sound like excuses he might take back whenever he pleases.

When Olivia opens her eyes, a long minute later, she takes the first full breath since he came back into her life (since before he left it).

"Okay," she says calmly, "I forgive you."

~oOo~

Denise is even more pissed than she'd been earlier.

Not with Ayanna, though, she'd gotten more sober after all that chocolate — the power of sugar — and was now happily chatting with Jet and that other detective. Or at least she thinks he's a detective? That other cop…

No, she's pissed at this exasperating couple sitting in front of her. For starters, they are completely oblivious to their surroundings — which she thinks is incredibly dangerous in their line of work — making it impossible for her to start a conversation with either of them. And since it's been established she does not want to converse with the jerk who'd stolen her wife's job, that left her with very limited options. She'd briefly engaged in a rewarding conversation with Washburn in which he'd told her fun anecdotes of his time as Ayanna's partner, but good things don't seem to last at this table, and so he'd been distracted by one of the other detectives — Maldonado, was it?

So, you see, all she had left to chase away her boredom were these two. Except they weren't merely a semi-interesting movie she'd missed the beginning of, they were a silent movie. Okay, they talked sometimes, if you could call it that, but she could barely make out the words since they were mumbling into each other's faces. Mostly though, they just… stared? Really, really intensely. So maybe SciFi, for the mind-reading? Or fantasy…

Regardless of the genre, Denise was sure of one thing: this was a really, really odd movie to watch. She'd give it a 5 out of 10, just for the chemistry alone.

~oOo~

Elliot is feeling too much right now. Relief is certainly up there, but worry and heartbreak are too. He'd been telling himself, all this time, that he'd done the right thing in leaving her behind, that she'd been happier without him. It was the only thing that made him stay put, those first few years, and then eventually he'd started to believe it. It wasn't hard to do, not when he thought about all the times she'd been the one to leave, and how well she'd done for herself without him to pull her down. When he came back and saw she'd become a Captain, she'd had a son, it just proved to him his assumptions had been right. And while it broke his heart to have confirmation of his bad influence, it still made him proud to see her achieve so much. He figured a part of him would always feel possessive of his partner, the rookie with the heart of gold he'd trained for a year, until he realized she'd already surpassed him in every way that counted.

But her reaction today, when he'd dared to voice this to her — her eyes had briefly squeezed shut, transforming her face in a painting of despair, as did her hands around their hoodie. It told a completely different story. A story he was both desperate to hear and terrified of coming to know, in equal measure.

It's tragic, really, how she finally forgave him, just when he'd realized he'll never be able to forgive himself.

~oOo~

Bell is having fun.

Now that the alcohol isn't the only thing in her stomach she feels more in control, but the continuous beer consumption means that she's still pleasantly buzzed. And that means she has no trouble interrupting Sloot and Fin's chitty chat to get the intel she needs. After all, Stabler is her problem now.

"Okay, what's up with that?" she asks Fin, nodding toward the pair who had just sat back down after a rather dramatic departure.

They both laugh.

"What, did I say something funny?"

"Nah, I've just been telling my friend Jet here what it was like working with that for eleven years." He widens his arms for emphasis.

"And I'd thought Stabler alone was intense," Sloot mumbles quietly, but Fin must have caught it because he chuckles.

"You have no idea."

"Oh, really? Do tell," Bell asks, intrigued.

"I'm no gossip, but I figure, if you're the one cursed with workin' with the guy now..." Fin starts, clearly having fun at her expense.

"Spit it out Sergeant." She rolls her eyes.

"They were the problem children in the department, always getting in trouble and covering for each other. It would'a been sweet if we all didn't have to deal with the fallout." He stops and chuckles, clearly remembering something. "There was this time, I think it was around '06, '07… they actually skipped town and botched this whole other investigation on Olivia's brother—"

"Are you sure you wanna tell this story to his superior, right now?" Bell asks, pointedly.

"Nah, man, you're okay. He did go rogue for Liv a couple times, but they were right in the end, the cop had been trying to frame the guy."

"So they got lucky."

"I guess," he shrugs, "they were lucky for a long time, but it's 'cause their hearts were in the right place."

"Oh, really?" Her voice drips with irony.

It's hard to hear this, especially coming from a fellow black. Here she is, having closed this entire operation with few casualties, having been as successful as she'd been during all her years as a member of the NYPD, just to have her promotion given to the next white male. No one seemed to care much where her heart was when it came to Damon's lawsuit, and she wasn't even directly involved.

Fin gives her a look that could only come from someone too used to the double standard to give a shit anymore. The guy had been in the force since she was a kid but, god, she hopes she never grows used to this.

"Look, all I'm saying is not everyone is willing to mortgage their family's house to get a partner out of Rikers or put their own neck on the line just to help them when they need it. He had his issues but he always had her back..." His brow furrows. "That's what made it so odd, him leaving without a word to her."

Just as Fin says that — and only because she's sitting perfectly in front of Stabler — she can hear him apologizing to the Captain. Or rather, Elliot apologizing to Olivia. It pulls her in, the reverence of their moment. She notices the plain grey hoodie the woman is clutching on her lap as if it were her lifeline. Is that what Elliot had inside that big fancy packet he'd given her? Her own gift had been a pair of sensible but beautiful earrings, ones that she hadn't had the chance to thank him for because they'd already been back in their bubble by the time she'd opened it. Naturally, then, she'd expected something even nicer to come out of Olivia's pretty blue box. Ayanna's puzzled to say the least, so she's still looking at them when it happens.

Olivia Benson, the strong, hard as nails, perpetually burdened by all the tragedy she's accumulated over the years, Captain, her mentor, just... transformed, right in front of her eyes. Olivia opens her eyes and her whole demeanor is lighter, happy in a way Ayanna doesn't think she's ever seen. And when she hears the other woman say, 'Okay, I forgive you', she notices even her voice has changed.

Maybe, just maybe, she'd been wrong when she'd told Elliot to look for comfort elsewhere. Because from all she'd seen and heard here, today, she didn't think anyone could give either Elliot or Olivia what the other one could.

~oOo~

They'd all exchanged simple gifts by the time dessert came around, and since a lot of it was food-related, they'd collectively decided to ask for the bill. It's only 1:42PM, Olivia checks on her phone as she waits for the Valet to bring her car. Noah's probably just coming out of A Christmas Carol by now, and she's not supposed to pick him up before four so he can enjoy his time with Billie and Jesse. She loves how well they get along despite the age and gender differences.

It feels like a lifetime has passed since this morning.

She'd asked Elliot if he'd needed a ride. She knew he lived close by but she also wasn't ready for this easy feeling between them to end yet and she knew how worried he'd gotten about her. She desperately wants to reassure him the way he did her by giving her that hoodie, so any lingering doubt about whether or not she should go through with her plan to pick up where they left off in 2011 has flown out the window. She just hopes he'll get it. At first glance, her gift doesn't seem all that special, if anything, it actually looks outdated. But Elliot's a good detective, he'll figure it out.

"Hey Liv," Fin startles her out of her reverie, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "Merry Christmas."

It's Christmas.

It's Christmas and she just had a great lunch with Elliot, his squad, and Fin. Her son is healthy and happy with his friends — more like family, really — and to top it off she hasn't been called into work yet.

That's a real Christmas miracle.

It's silly, coming from someone who doesn't always believe in God, but she feels blessed. "Merry Christmas, Fin. I'm glad you came."

"Not that you would'a missed me," he taunts her, squeezing her shoulders.

She refuses to acknowledge his taunt — what would she even say? — and deflects expertly, "Where's Phoebe?"

"She's spending time with her sisters, I'm gonna meet her at Ken's later tonight." And then he shoots back, "Where's Elliot?", like he hadn't been sitting next to the man for the last two hours. As if he had the same place in her life as Phoebe did his. As if he'd been trying to summon him with his words, Elliot rounded the corner at that moment.

"Hey, Liv, Fin," he acknowledges the other man.

"Hey, man."

"All settled?" she asks him. He'd stayed behind to say his goodbyes to his squad and make some small talk he'd missed out on because he was too focused on her.

"Yeah," he says simply, "that your car?"

"Yes, finally."

~oOo~

Jee, could these two be any more married?

"You stealing my ride, Stabler?" Fin asks, just to rattle them. He'd forgotten how fun this was. It makes him miss Munch, at least then he had company being the third wheel. Or fourth.

"Huh?" The poor bastard looks nervous.

Olivia simply gives him a disapproving look, before turning to Elliot. "He's just messing with you, El."

If he didn't already know how much it means to her to have that bastard back into her life, this interaction right there would have told him. She sounds softer, like the Olivia from before. Before Lewis, before her Captaincy… before he left. For that alone, he forgives his absence too.

At least until he screws up again.

Buzz buzz

"That's my son, I gotta go," he says, even though he's not sure they're even listening anymore. "See ya later."

~oOo~

Olivia is… different.

He doesn't know what it is, but after she forgave him at the restaurant, she truly seems lighter. It pushes him back in time, these smiles she's been giving him. All the way back to that old precinct, with the jokes and the bad lighting and the terrible coffee. He wants to drown in these memories, wants to let himself get lost in the sheer familiarity of them right now.

But he can't.

Because he'd just seen a glimpse of how badly Olivia took his departure.

He'd erected this wall way up high inside of him and it had blocked all the guilt, had him convinced he'd done the right thing. But how could it be right when it felt so wrong? His choices were exactly what had gotten Kathy killed in the end. He just hurt all of them, and for what?

"El?" comes her sweet voice from the driver's seat and he feels like he'll suffocate on guilt alone.

He takes a deep breath. Just this once, he doesn't want to unload all of his anxieties on her. Not now she actually looks happy.

"It's nothin'," he says, gruffly.

She arches her brow. Finds a spot to park the car. They're near his place but not quite there yet. She's not letting this go.

And he's a weak motherfucker, because there he is again, spilling his guts out. "You may have forgiven me, Olivia, but I don't know that I'll ever forgive myself."

For a second, her eyes go wide. And then, because she'll only allow herself the briefest moments, her face turns into a picture of understanding.

It only makes him feel worse.

"Elliot—" she starts, but he interrupts her promptly.

"Don't, Olivia." He sounds frustrated with her when he's actually frustrated with himself. As always he's messing everything up, because she isn't smiling anymore.

"Oh no, you don't get to do that Stabler," she says, in a timbre so low it distracts him from his guilt for a second.

Not now.

When he's silent, she continues. "I just got my partner back, you don't get to take it away out of some— some last-minute sense of catholic guilt." She's resolute while he's petrified. "So you made a mistake? Okay, maybe you did." She stops, and it's only their twenty-year connection that allows him to see the sadness in her eyes. "What's done is done, no one can change the past, but I sure as hell don't deserve to be punished for it."

God, that's exactly what he'd meant to avoid.

She was smiling and now he made her sad.

Fuck.

"And maybe you didn't, maybe this is exactly where we're supposed to be, Elliot, you ever think about that?" she continues, because Olivia Benson is the kindest person on this goddamned Earth. "Maybe Eli deserved the version of you that could only exist in Rome, maybe you owed it to yourself, to Kathy…"

How can anyone be this selfless?

"Maybe she wouldn't be dead if I had let her go, the way I was supposed to all those years ago," he replies.

Her face is so compassionate in this moment, so familiar, he finds yet another new way to love her.

"Maybe. Or maybe not." She sighs. "Don't do this to yourself, El."

He swallows.

"What about you?" His voice comes out a mere whisper.

"What about me?" she asks, because it's never about her, is it?

He's so frustrated he feels like shaking her into recognizing her own suffering, his unforgivable sin.

"I saw it earlier, the way you flinched when I said you'd done well without me," he lets out, voice tight. "I know something happened, Olivia."

She just smiles.

"Well, Elliot, it's been a decade," she tells him humorously, almost as if she was talking to a child, "a lot has happened in that time, both good and bad."

He's startled, once again, by how different she is just now.

What changed?

It's one of those instances he swears she can read his mind, because she answers, "I guess I just… needed to know you would have been here if you'd known."

She sounds so peaceful and all the while he feels like he's gonna be sick.

Was it something he should have known about? Heard about?

How big was it?

What the fuck happened to her?

"I needed to know that you still cared," she confesses, the last nail in his coffin.

In a flash, he's out of the car and all that delicious food is wasted on the floor. He closes his eyes and tries to just breathe, his whole body straining against the unthinkable realization of just how much he'd broken when he decided to leave her behind.

Their partnership, he'd been willing to sacrifice for 'the greater good'.

Their friendship had been collateral damage.

But her trust in his devotion to her… that, he'd never realized he'd been risking.

Sure, he'd wanted her to be angry then, knew it was the only way they'd ever let each other go. But there were some things — the unspoken ones — he'd thought would be safe from the betrayal, somehow.

It was that certainty that allowed him to go through with it all, to send her his mini badge, his medal…

Semper Fidelis he'd sent her, and he'd meant it.

He realizes how ridiculous it all seems now. How could she know? Yeah, she'd known him better than anyone then, but how could he have expected that after his abandonment she wouldn't question everything?

He doesn't know how long it's been, but when he blinks, she's there, one hand on his back and another handing him some mint, just like he'd done for her when she was a rookie.

She's still here, despite it all, and he doesn't know what to do with himself. He doesn't, but he's determined not to screw it up any longer. He decides to follow her lead.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," she says simply. "You feeling well enough to get back in the car? I still need to give you my present." He can sense himself vaguely nodding and she's already rounding the vehicle to get to the driver's seat by the time he's out of his stupor.

She hadn't forgiven me yet, this morning, and she still got me a gift?

She'd been afraid he didn't care — God, how did they ever get to this point where she thought he didn't care for her when she'd easily become the most sacred thing in his life? — and she'd still gotten him something special?

His surprise must have shown on his face, because she stops looking through her purse to explain. "I wasn't sure I'd give you this, to be honest. I've had it for a long time, and it took me a few months to get it just right so… I figured 'better late than never, right?'"

What?

She finally finds what she's looking for, taking a thin, small, red box from her purse. "It's a bit outdated now, but it should still work…" She shrugs, flustered.

God, she's beautiful when she's flustered.

"I just couldn't let you win without a fight," she determines with a nod, before getting the car back in motion.

Oh.

Their Christmas competition. Of course.

Amidst his internal turmoil, it still warms his heart knowing she's chosen, even after all this time, to keep their tradition alive.

~oOo~

The first thing Amanda notices when she sees her Captain at the door is that she seems extremely happy. The second is that that simple hoodie decidedly doesn't go as well with her pretty outfit as the red overcoat she'd been wearing this morning.

"You going running in those heels?" she quips.

"Very funny, Rollins." She's sure it's meant to be ironic, but it doesn't quite land. "Did you guys enjoy the play?"

Oh no, Amanda had just gotten the kids to quiet down about it already, and now—

"Mom, It was so cool!"

There it is.

She lets Olivia in. This afternoon is far from over, and her plans to get in on the gossip have just been shattered by a nine-year-old.

Maybe Carisi could bring her some eggnog to get her through the day…

~oOo~

"Hey, Dad."

He'd been so absorbed in Olivia and possibility earlier, he'd completely forgotten he was supposed to get Eli back from Maureen's. Luckily, as soon as he'd spotted his car forgotten in his garage, he'd set himself in motion.

He doesn't think anyone noticed.

Unfortunately, that meant her gift would have to wait.

It is now safe and sound inside his glove compartment because he hadn't wanted to leave it behind at the house.

He should have known better.

~oOo~

Maureen's was fun, or as fun as a house with a three-year-old can be. It felt kinda off to Eli if he's being honest. He's used to being an only son, the baby in the family, even though he technically has four siblings, so seeing that young kid who still has everything he'd lost was… weird.

This country is weird.

But the food was good and it was the closest thing to a normal Christmas he'd have this year, so... it was fun.

And now dad's here, as unfamiliar without his beard as he'd been with it.

"Hey, Dad," he tries, but the old man just keeps brooding.

What else is new?

Eli sighs, decides to look for the comic he'd left inside the glove compartment last week, when his dad stops him.

"What are you doing?" Elliot sounds strained, his voice breaking in half.

Okay, now he's intrigued.

He looks around and finds this tiny box, takes it.

"What is this?"

His dad actually gulps.

"It's nothing."

"Oh, yeah?" Now, this is actually fun. "So you won't mind if I ope—"

"Don't." Elliot uses his right hand to quickly snatch it out of his grasp, but it falls open somewhere between Eli's own feet.

His father isn't always easy to read, but when he swallows hard like this, his neck growing red, Eli knows he's in trouble. "I'm sorry, Dad, I was just goofing around."

Now his old man's eyes keep switching between the road and the little box, still unceremoniously upside down on the floor. After last time, Eli's really afraid he'll get them in another accident, so he bows down to get it for him but—

"Leave it." Elliot sounds angry.

"I was just trying to help." And as he hears his own voice, he realizes he sounds scared.

He hates that this version of his dad has the power to scare him.

The car finally stops at a red light and his dad reaches for the little gift himself, making sure to take — wait, is that a pen drive?

The other side of the box still lingers by his right foot and he's sure dad won't be able to reach it, but he feels like he's glued to the seat by the man's unpredictableness.

But then, the strangest thing happens.

Right before the light turns green, Elliot takes one look at that simple, red pen drive, and chuckles, happy.

He breathes easier now that he realizes his father isn't lost to his anger or his PTSD or whatever else he's going through this week. And he's kinda curious.

"What's so funny?"

"Huh?"

Nice try, Dad. You think you're the only one who's tried the clueless card this week?

Eli just stares unimpressed.

"I'm sorry, Eli," he relents, two minutes into the uncomfortable silence. "I'm sorry I snapped earlier and got lost in thought just now, I—" He cuts himself off, before mumbling something under his breath which Eli swears sounds close to 'today's turning out to be apology day'.

"Hmm," he replies, not sure what to do with him. Dad's clearly not giving an inch, but right now he's just relieved to be pulling into the garage safely.

Man, he hates car rides.

~oOo~

The first thing Bernie notices when her son comes through the door is how content he seems, particularly because his demeanor has alternated between gloomy and broody all holiday season. Of course, she remembers how difficult her first Christmas without Joe had been — losing a spouse is never easy, regardless of how many problems said marriage has. But even if she disregards his grief, she could still count on one hand the number of Christmasses she's spent with her son in which he was happy, and those were mostly from his young childhood, from before their life got messy.

She got messy.

Bernie still hates how bored she gets with these pills she's been regularly taking, still misses the sheer joy she could find without them but… anyway, she's been talking to Kathleen about it, and her wise granddaughter has been giving her tips on how to defeat the emptiness. Hence all the decorating, and the cooking, and, yes, the meddling.

"Elliot, dear, did you remember to tell Olivia I said 'Hi'?" she asks as soon as he comes through the door, just to see him squirm. "Hi Eli, how was it at Maur's?"

Of course, her son ignores her question, but at least her grandson has manners.

"It was fine grandma, thanks for asking."

"Oh, good, good." She approaches to give Eli a kiss on the forehead before he slips away into his room. Kathleen has also been teaching her how to take notice of the good things in life, even when she doesn't exactly feel it, and that's how she reminds herself to be grateful he allows her affection.

Elliot certainly didn't, at fifteen.

Speaking of, her son has just left a delicious box of chocolate right there on the kitchen counter and is making a beeline toward his notebook, on the other side of the room.

Hmm.

Since he's happy to ignore her, she's gonna allow herself some of that chocolate, guilt-free.

"Mama?"

She startles, her hand freezes with a delicious truffle in its grasp.

"What?" she asks, cautiously.

"Have you seen my headphones?" his voice is distracted, his attention drawn back to his goddamned screen.

Bernie huffs, takes two more truffles, and takes her time tasting them, before she answers, "Isn't it in your bedroom drawer?"

She's guessing really, her memory's not her best asset and her son knows that. He must be really engrossed in whatever this is, to forget how much he doesn't like to rely on her.

It must have been a good guess, because he rushes in and out of his room with said headphones, and she decides she deserves another truffle. He's so focused, she takes a chance and approaches him from behind, but she can't make sense of whatever is on his screen.

She'd already cooked all the food for the Christmas dinner earlier in the day and her boredom is getting harder to manage. Quite frankly, she's tired of being ignored. It's Christmas, for Christ's sake.

She pulls the left side of the gadget to get his attention. "Elliot, when did you say Kathleen would be here?"

His eyes stay lost for a minute, and then he focuses on her,."Oh… uh, what time is it?"

And they insist she's the one who loses track of reality sometimes.

"It's a quarter to six," she tells him, glancing at the microwave.

"Then she should be here in fifteen…"

"Oh good, at least my grandchildren don't ignore me as much," she teases him.

He finally takes the headphones off and fully looks at her. "Sorry." He narrows his eyes and she knows she's been caught, raises her hands playfully in self-defense. "Mrs. Stabler, have you been stealing my truffles?"

"Who, me?"

"Your fingers are smudged brown, Mama."

"Oops?" She widens her eyes for effect.

He just laughs, tells her Olivia would have wanted her to have them anyway, and she thinks it might not be so bad, life on pills.

Not today, at least.

~oOo~

He's been all over the place today, and not just because of Olivia. It's easier, sometimes, to focus on just a piece of the puzzle in order to not get overwhelmed by the whole picture. What he feels for Olivia, for what he did to her, is all-consuming in its own right, but it's just one direction his grief can take him tonight. At least, one way or another, he's been grieving for what they had for a long time now. But sitting here, in this all new living room, with his all grown kids after a mostly silent Christmas dinner — their faces melancholy if not explicitly sad — he lets his heart touch the overbearing grief that's staring him in the face: the harsh reality of the first big holiday without Kathy.

He still remembers their first holiday together, both of them kids themselves, kissing sweetly under the mistletoe at her parents' house, her sister's mockery their only worry. They hadn't had to grow up yet, that day, and it sits immortalized in his memory as one of his happiest memories of them together. She'd been beautiful, all rosy cheeks and blonde hair and innocent blue eyes. Later his kids would follow, and he'd be a different kind of happy — it would come with the weight of responsibility, with the relief of having been able to support them. Later still he'd be broken in two, so his happiness would never again feel so complete, always tainted by the longing for the part of him he'd left behind… at the precinct, at some Manhattan apartment, in New York City, in the States…

His therapist had told him a big part of grieving was sharing the sadness and letting it bring people together. He'd laughed in her face, then, consumed by the rage and the fear and the visions, but he desperately wants to feel close to his kids tonight, and Kathy isn't here to build bridges anymore. So he clears his throat, tries to catch their attention, but they all sit as they are, scattered around the living room.

His mother looks up, smiles encouragingly, and something about the way they seem to be finding their footing together for the first time ever makes him believe. Maybe, just maybe, past the grief and the blame and the distance, they can all find some new way to come together as a family. Maybe only now that he's alone, truly on his own for the first time in all his fifty-plus years of life, can he finally learn to put more effort into building instead of breaking.

He remembers the way Olivia smiled at him, after he'd given her the hoodie, after he'd apologized. He was just being honest, doing what felt right without censoring himself, and it had worked wonders for their relationship. So maybe if he just stopped focusing on holding back, let the fear go for a bit, maybe…

"So, I was thinking," he starts, inserting himself between Lizzie and Kathleen and resting his back on the couch, "I was remembering... my favorite Christmas memory with your mother…"

Someone gasps, he thinks it's Lizzie.

They all look at each other, probably wondering who this stranger is, sitting in front of them.

His mom lays a hand on his shoulder for support.

Kathleen — of course, it's Kathleen — is the first to speak in a reverent voice. "What was it, dad?"

And he tells her, tells them. From the mistletoe to the mockery to the way he'd been scared their grandfather would eat him alive if he knew what they'd been doing in his car earlier that day. He'd told them about the song she used to sing all week during the holidays and about helping her mom with dinner for the first and only time, before she forbade him to set foot in her kitchen ever again. And somehow, by some Christmas miracle, it works and they're all swapping their favorite memories of Christmas past, of Kathy, of life and joy and family. Even Eli joins in, after a while, his eyes wet and his hands shaking, and all his siblings offer him a hug, tell him they're there for him, always.

God, he knows his family isn't perfect, but just tonight he feels like it's pretty close.

"Do you remember that time Dickie tricked you into eating all of his vegetables for a month because he convinced you your name would show up twice in Santa's list?" Kathleen is asking Lizzie, who has tears of laughter in her eyes, nodding.

"God, Dickie sounded so solemn when he said he didn't mind giving up his own gift for me," she agrees with an incredulous laugh.

"Hey, it's not my fault it took you so long to realize he wasn't real!" he defends himself while Eli just laughs.

If he weren't so peaceful right now, he'd add another sin to the grievances he feels guilty for: taking Eli away from the company of his siblings. But the sheer relief this moment brought him has him feeling forgiving of himself, just now. Who knows, maybe Olivia's right, and this is the best possible outcome.

Since everyone is so absorbed in conversation, he decides it's okay to go back to his notebook for a little while.

~oOo~

Lizzie had been dreading this dinner with everything she had. Truth is, without mom to bring them all together she's been feeling even more like she's the odd one out. Maureen has her own family now, Kathleen has taken the role of nurturer in mom's absence, Richard's… well he's a man and Eli's the one everyone's been worried about, he's always gonna be the baby of the family.

To be utterly frank, her parents have been away forever now, ever since she was a teenager in college and she'd gotten used to being on her own. Sure, they visited sometimes, but… without their home as a common ground, she'd drifted apart from her siblings. Part of her had been hungry for independence, being the fourth born and twin, so she'd taken full advantage of her newfound position as the owner of her own life.

She'd become used to the freedom being on her own allowed her, had thrived on the quiet she'd never known before, and discovered so much more about herself in those first few years than she had all her life in that noisy family house. She'd learned she enjoyed poetry, and soft music on rainy days, and sushi — which her dad would never let anyone order on his watch, said the smell made him sick even if she doesn't think it smelled like much. And she'd learned she preferred to date women rather than men. It might seem silly, in this day and age, to be scared to come out to her family, but too many Sunday sermons about the love between a man and a woman had her holding her tongue, and then too much time had passed and it was just easier to keep to herself.

Even if the other part of her had been terrified to be without them.

Much like she'd been terrified tonight to knock on the door.

Because it was so easy to pretend that nothing's changed when she's alone, so easy to pretend her parents are both safe and sound in Rome with Eli, just like they're supposed to be.

Lizzie had learned long ago that she's a dreamer, and sitting in this uncomfortable silence with the siblings she hardly sees and the father she barely recognizes has her yearning for a book faster than almost anything else.

Until Elliot starts talking about mom.

"So, I was thinking," he sits down beside her, one arm around her shoulders just like when she was little, "I was remembering... my favorite Christmas memory with your mother…"

And her rough-edged, messy, insensitive father works magic this Christmas Eve, and makes her feel like a part of the family for the first time in a decade. It feels so good to mourn together, sharing the good moments along with the bad. She's addicted to the feeling, tears of laughter gathering in her eyes with every old story one of them digs up next.

So, because of all of that, when there's a lull in the conversation and she catches a private moment between dad and Kathleen, she can't help but be generous with him the way he'd been with all of them. She can understand better than most how love can feel both right and wrong, all at once, how one's convictions can go against their innermost desires, and after the stories he'd just shared, she's sure of his love for mom, for all of them. But she's gone now, and there's no reason for him to feel so divided anymore.

~oOo~

He had barely been able to enjoy the playlist Olivia had made him earlier today because Bernie had been seeking his attention, and then Kathleen was there and before he knew it, it was dinner time. He's sitting on the empty couch because all the kids decided to take the floor to be closer together, so he lets his eyes roam freely, taking in each song she'd handpicked for him: With or Without You by U2, We Didn't Start the Fire by Billy Joel, Elton John's Rocket Man, Yesterday…

"What are you so focused on over there, dad?" Kathleen startles him, plopping down beside him.

"Uhh, it's—" he doesn't know why he feels guilty. He's done nothing wrong. Not today, at least.

Kathleen laughs.

He clears his throat. "It's a playlist."

She takes a look at the pen drive connected to the notebook on his lap. "Who still uses a pen drive to make a playlist? Dad, you're showing your age," she mocks him. "Here, let me introduce you to Spotify."

"No," he holds on to the computer, "it was a gift," he mumbles, hoping she'll let it go.

And now he's sweating again. What's wrong with him?

"Ooooh, okay," forget what he said earlier about a perfect family, "sorry, Dad."

Meddling little witch.

She gasps, looking fixedly at the screen.

"What?"

She clears her throat. "Who gave this to you, dad?"

He's even more puzzled, what is she getting at?

"Just… whoever did it is very clever," she tells him, and he can tell she's making an effort to keep a neutral expression.

"Wha— why do you say that?" He's losing his patience.

"I mean… they'd have to know your badge number, for one, and then go through a lot of trouble in order to get the time just right but—"

"What are you talking about, Kathleen?!" And he's lost it.

She just smiles. "You're telling me you haven't put it together, Detective Stabler?"

He huffs. "What haven't I put together, Katie?" He's trying to stay calm, but it's said from between his teeth.

"It's sixty-three minutes, thirteen songs," she points out, looking straight at his eyes.

He's so irritated it takes him a minute to process what she's saying.

"Oh," he sighs.

"Yeah." She looks so amused.

He'd been perfectly content thinking Olivia had taken time out of her day to assemble a playlist full of his favorite songs, but this… this is something else.

When did she even?

She'd said she's had it for a while and he'd assumed it was a few days but—

The pen drive, the old songs…

Has she been keeping it since before?

"Dad, close your mouth," his daughter deadpans.

He sits up straight, looks around until his eyes stop on her face. "Sorry."

"Look, I'm only going to say this once because I learned my lesson after that terrible intervention but…"

It's his turn to prod. "What is it?"

"I know it's too soon after…" she shakes her head, "it's complicated but… don't let her go again, okay?"

What?!

"Neither of you deserve that, so… hold on to her this time."

Is this a dream or a nightmare?

"Kathleen, stop speaking in code here, because—"

She bursts out laughing. "Dad, for a decorated detective you sure can be dense, huh?"

"She's talking about Olivia, Father," Lizzie jumps in, having quietly been paying attention from her spot on the floor.

He feels as trapped now as he did in that damned intervention, all those months ago.

The intervention where he'd blurted out he loved her in front of all of them.

Maybe he shouldn't be so surprised.

"Was it not her gift?" Kathleen asks, knowingly pointing toward the pen drive.

"Uh…" he can't bring himself to say it.

Why does this feel so surreal?

"Please, Elliot, give your kids some credit, they're not blind," Bernie joins in the attack from behind him.

Now it's a proper ambush. He feels sick.

"We never—" He scratches his forehead. "She wouldn't—" He blinks wildly. "I—"

"We know," Lizzie interrupts calmly, "we love you for it, but…"

"That doesn't mean there's nothing there," Kathleen adds, bravely.

"Yeah," Lizzie agrees, as his mother squeezes his shoulders supportively.

He's always felt torn up inside, always made sure to choose the right path for his family even when that meant giving up everything. Having said family tell him he actually could… It's incomprehensible, but it feels heavenly. Well, not his whole family, his sons are completely unaware of what just passed, looking at something in Eli's phone and talking quietly, while Maureen isn't even here.

But still. Maybe?

"Why don't you call and thank her?" Katie suggests, handing him his phone that had fallen from his pocket onto the couch's cushion. He reaches for it without even thinking.

She moves her hand back for a minute, "You have to be honest about who figured it out, though," before giving it back.

"I," he's still speechless, "thank you."

His girls just smile.

~oOo~

It's been easy tonight, putting Noah to bed after such a fulfilling day. Her precocious son had stated he was too old to believe in Santa Claus when he was only seven and that was that, no more sneaking around at night to try to catch him in the act. Still, Olivia makes sure to keep the fantasy alive for him anyway, wrapping his present in a pretty, festive paper and setting everything up perfectly while he's asleep.

It feels good, so why not do it?

She's throwing the scraps of the green wrapping paper in the trash when her cell phone rings.

This is odd, it's past midnight which makes it officially Christmas, who would be calling at this hour?

Please, not Velasco with an emergency, she thinks to herself, reaching for the phone on the kitchen counter.

"Benson," she says, not bothering to look at the caller ID and already bracing herself for something big if he's calling her on Christmas.

"Liv?"

That's not Velasco.

Her stupid heart starts racing just from hearing his voice, and she burrows her free hand inside their hoodie's pocket. "Hey," she answers quietly.

"Hi."

She waits, it was him who called after all.

He seems to realize she's not going to say anything more and continues, "Uh," he clears his throat, takes a calming breath, "Liv, I—"

His voice is muffled by a girl's squeal, and she thinks she can hear Bernie's 'shh' in response. Then it's silent for a few seconds while she assumes he's moving away from the noise.

"Sorry," he says finally, and she pictures him standing by himself outside of the house, the warm air condensing as soon as it leaves his mouth.

"That's okay," she tries to keep the expectation out of her voice.

"Merry Christmas." His is so soft she has to press the phone closer to her ear and close her eyes, just to hear him.

"Merry Christmas, El," she answers, remembering all the times she'd sent him those wishes in her head this past decade.

"I listened to the playlist," he says after a while and it's weird how comfortable they are in silence, even through the phone.

"Oh?"

Did he figure it out?

"No Queen?" he jokes, sighs... She can tell he's trying to break the tension, but he still sounds earnest when he continues. "I loved it."

She laughs. "Even with the lack of Freddie Mercury?"

"Well…" he teases.

"Shut up," she says and can't hold her curiosity back any longer, "did you figure it out?"

"Katie did," he deadpans and she lets out a full belly laugh.

Oh my God, how I missed this.

There are tears in her eyes now, and she can't tell whether they stem from laughter or just sheer relief at finally, finally, having this back.

"I thought you were the Detective?" she mocks.

"Guess I'm not as sharp as I used to be."

She mock gasps. "You coming to terms with your age, Stabler?"

"May I remind you I'm only two years older than you, Benson?"

Her cheeks hurt from smiling so wide. "Two very long years."

Olivia's been sitting quietly on her couch ever since she picked up, trying not to wake Noah up with all this nervous energy running through her tired limbs. She feels ridiculously like a schoolgirl and she would be embarrassed if she wasn't so freaking happy.

"Liv," he interrupts their banter, "are you busy tomorrow?"

Ah, there it is, another reality check.

"Elliot," she begins, regretfully, "it's Christmas."

Her plans don't go any further than spending time with Noah, maybe bake some cookies and take him to the park if it snows. The Twenty-Fifth had always been the hardest for Olivia before him, no parties or dinners to distract her from the fact that this is such a family-oriented holiday. She used to work any chance she got, back when she was a detective, and then she got Noah and swore she'd never ask for anything else. She'd long ago come to terms with the fact she'd never have the big family to celebrate with, and she hoped against hope that she'd be enough for him too.

But, sometimes, she still dreamed he could have more…

"Yeah, exactly," he brings her out of her daze.

"We can't," she starts, breathless, "your family—"

"Would love for you to be there." It's his turn to sound certain when she's in doubt.

This is why they work: one's always willing to hold down the fort when the other falters.

"I don't want to intrude," she whispers, "and there's Noah to think about, I—"

"Liv, me and my family would love nothing more than to have you and Noah over tomorrow." She closes her eyes at how smooth his voice sounds just now. "But it's your decision, I'm not gonna pressure you into it."

Who are you and what have you done with my partner?

Her heart is hammering in her chest, maybe from fear, maybe from something else. She's not sure of anything right this moment. "I... Thank you."

She swears she can hear his smile when he answers, "You're welcome."

"I'll talk to Noah," she adds, because she wants him to know she heard his invitation, that she's scared, yes, but she wants to not be, anymore.

"That's all I can ask of you."

And there it is again, the loud silence between them. In it she can hear everything that had gone unspoken for years. Words weren't needed when they had been so sure of themselves, their attachment to each other, what it all meant. But then he decided to pull the rug from under her by giving it a name, putting words to their connection. It figures they didn't need them when they'd both been secure in their partnership, that only after so much distance was put between them were words even necessary.

"Liv?" he whispers.

"Yeah?" she whispers back.

"When I said that I love you," he begins and her heart stops, "I think you know I meant it."

She does know.

She didn't when he first said it, wasn't sure of anything where he was concerned for a while… But sitting here, warm in their hoodie, looking at the twinkling lights Noah had helped put on the Christmas tree, she feels complete in a way she's never felt before.

"Yeah, I do," she tells him, because he's finally earned the right to know. "Me too."

And the relieved sigh he lets out has her giggling into the phone.

"Good."

"Yeah."

They hang up then, words no longer needed now that they have each other back.

~oOo~

Noah's only nine but he knows he's clever for his age. Precocious is what mom's always calling him. And so he knows what it means that his mom has never introduced him to any man in her life, and now they're here. It helps that she asked him first whether he wanted to come. Well, technically, she asked if he'd wanted to spend Christmas with him, but Noah had been excited to play with his new Lego set and since she's the best mom in the whole world, she'd respected his wishes. They'd built an entire Lego city in his bedroom that morning before having a snowball fight in the park. It was fun. Naturally, when she asked him again two days ago, he felt like he owed her and said yes…

It's now 11:56 PM on New Year's Eve, and they're at this man's house. Elliot's. Noah's not really sure how he feels about him yet. He's tall and incredibly strong for an older man. He's seen him before at the park, last winter, and he could tell Mom wasn't comfortable around him then.

She's definitely comfortable around him now though, so he's willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"You alright, Noah?" Eli asks, joining him on the couch.

That's the thing, this Elliot guy has five kids. Who has so many children in this century? Doesn't he know the world is suffering from overpopulation? That his kids are doomed to deal with serious issues like climate change and air pollution and endless health crises? Of course, he knows he has to deal with that as well, but that's not mom's fault. She adopted him, she didn't choose to bring him into this chaos. Obviously, his mom is a lot smarter than Elliot.

"Yeah," he replies, munching on some grapes.

"Aren't you supposed to wait till midnight to make a wish?" the teenager prods, but takes a few grapes for himself.

"I don't believe in wishes, I think we have to fight for the things we want," he offers, wisely.

Eli looks thoughtful for a minute, before replying somberly, "Some things you can't control."

He's looking at Elliot and Mom, standing close together by the patio glass door. Noah figures it must be even harder for him to see them together since his own mom died, while Noah never had a dad to begin with. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't jealous of the way Olivia's smiling at Elliot right now, completely absorbed by whatever he's saying — it's kinda nauseating, to be honest — but he's also happy. All his life, he worried that his mom didn't really have anyone, the way his friends' parents did. It's always been just him and, well, he's just a kid. Besides…

"At least they aren't kissing." Noah pulls a face, commiserating with the teen.

"Ugh, just wait a couple more minutes," Eli grumbles, averting his eyes to the clock.

It's 11:59 PM.

"Hmm," he agrees, because what else could he do? "Would you like to play Among Us?"

"Sure," Eli agrees, already reaching for his phone.

This certainly will be a good distraction from—

Ten, nine, eight—

Oh, he forgot about the TV…

"Seven, six, five—"

And now the blonde ladies have joined in the chanting…

"Four, three, two—"

Even the bearded guy and the old lady are into it now…

"One!" they all say in unison, and then suddenly the old lady is coming straight to him, hugging him a bit too close for his liking and kissing him noisily in the cheek, before moving on to do the same to Eli.

Just as she lets him go, he can see his mom and Elliot coming back from the patio.

When did they even leave?

But then he sees their linked hands, and mom is smiling her 'Elliot smile' — yes, he already recognizes she has a special smile for baldy, don't ask him about how that makes him feel — and he thinks he should thank the lady for blocking his view just in time.

"So, Among Us?" Eli asks once they're both free from all the hugs and kisses.

And when he wins as the impostor for the second time that night, Noah thinks maybe, all things considered, it might not be so bad, sharing mom with Elliot.