AN: Hello – so sorry for the delay! I blame twitter, tumblr, a severe case of writers block and Christmas. A huge thank you to LeMiSo who urged me to continue and even sent me a list of possible scenarios when I was stuck in writersblock-rut-town. She also wins all the awards for fastest beta turn around in under two hours at 3am! She really is the shizz - especially when I start making up words like blazen.. ::crickets::
A huge thank you also to everyone who is along for this ride and all your insanely lovely comments, they really do inspire me to keep at it. Here is the next chapter and I promise I won't take as long with the next now that I'm back on track. Just as an FYI this story is set early to mid Season 12, before Pursuit, Bombshell, Smoked or any of that messed up crap took place.
He woke up to the sound of his cell phone piercing through his subconscious.
He could hear the ringing in the distance but it wasn't on the side table where he usually kept it. It wasn't even his side table he realized as he opened his eyes and the ringing was coming from somewhere on the floor.
Her floor.
He reached down and grasped at the leg of his jeans that were piled messily beside his shoes and jacket and tugged it towards him. He seized the phone from his pocket only to realize it was his preset alarm waking him from his slumber and not a phone call.
He clicked it off immediately and dropped it down on the ground with a sigh. He was exhausted having had barely slept a wink all night. How could he when Olivia lay in his arms, bottomless, twitching in her sleep, against him, her ass sporadically bumping against his unforgiving hard on. He nearly had to retreat to the bathroom a couple more times during the night but decided extracting his body from hers and methodically counting sheep would suffice.
It didn't help, even when he wasn't touching her he could still feel the heat from her body and hear the soft breaths beside him reminding him of just how real the situation was.
He had come to her for comfort. The moment Bennett came back into the precinct without her, he knew something was off. Cragen was in troubleshooting mode, Bennett looked like he'd seen a ghost and Fin was asking all the right questions. All Elliot could think about was Olivia and how this would be killing her right now. This didn't happen; they didn't lose often and after everything she had been through recently this would have been the straw that broke the camel's back. So he came to her - immediately, when he probably shouldn't have. He came to provide support, aid, a shoulder, a genuine platonic comfort from one friend to another in need.
Fuckhe was kidding himself; he lost the right to any platonic thoughts the moment he took her up against the alley wall. Or perhaps it was the moment she asked him to fuck her undercover - he wasn't sure. Either way his restraint last night should go down in the history books because the way her body was reacting to his touch made him throb with an overwhelming desire.
He was still hard he realized as he lay flat on his stomach, still unable to move since he'd tossed his phone. He could feel his morning erection pressing into the mattress below him and he closed his eyes willing his body to just turn the fuck off. He wasn't even touching her, or even aware of how close she was in bed and he wasn't game to turn his body to see just yet.
That's when he heard a noise from the bathroom and he turned quickly to realize she wasn't even in bed with him. Her side was empty and he could see the bathroom door slightly ajar. He heard some soft clinking and rubbed a hand over his face trying to figure out how he was going to conceal his obvious arousal. This was ridiculous, he was as horny as a teenager.
Then as if she knew he didn't want company, the bathroom door opened suddenly and he rolled onto his back dragging her comforter up his body in the process. She was fully dressed; black jeans, a navy v-neck sweater with immaculate hair and make up.
He still had sleep in his eyes.
She locked eyes with him as she made her way over to the bed and he gave her an attempt at a sleepy smile. She didn't return it and he could sense her hesitation as she approached him. She stopped just short of the bed and dipped down scooping up his jeans and holding them out to him.
"We should get going," she told him no longer looking him in the eye and his jaw twitched at her blatant dismissal.
He had an overwhelming urge to grasp her wrist instead of the pants, drag her back into bed and pull off those tight black jeans but somehow he refrained. She could be distant he decided; she was entitled. This was strange for the both of them having him wake in her bed so he needed to understand that she wasn't pushing him away - she was just trying to deal with it the best way she knew how.
Distance.
He didn't reach out for his jeans until she finally made eye contact with him, then he took them from her slowly and he was surprised when she didn't look away. Her mouth even made motions to say something before she stopped herself and he just lay there clutching his jeans, looking up at her - making no attempt to get dressed.
A few beats passed before she scratched her temple with her knuckle, a unique habit he'd noticed over the years when she was uncomfortable or contemplative. He wondered which one it was and assumed that perhaps in this case it was both.
The tension between them was escalating now and he needed to say something, anything to break the stony silence between them but it was one of those moments where his mind failed him and he couldn't think of a rational thing to say. Not when those piercing chocolate eyes were probing his so intently.
When it was clear he wasn't moving or speaking she exhaled heavily - almost angrily he noted, and he realized that it must have been his job to fill the silence or at least attempt to. It didn't matter now because he had waited a beat too long and she was turning, walking towards her bathroom leaving the disappointment to smother him.
She didn't shut the door but he heard the faucet go and the echoing sounds of her brushing her teeth. He tossed off the comforter and pulled his jeans on, thankful that things down south were slowly starting to calm down. He slipped on his shoes and leather jacket, shoved his cell phone into his pocket and somewhat hesitantly headed towards the bathroom.
He came up behind her in the bathroom and her eyes flicked to his in the reflection of the mirror as she brushed her teeth. He watched her for a brief moment before he moved forward and picked up the tube of toothpaste that was resting in the cup.
He squeezed a portion onto his finger and before he reached his mouth she grasped his wrist and pulled it slowly down. He was about to ask what she was doing when she opened the bathroom cabinet, seized a fresh toothbrush still in it's original packaging and started to tear away at the cardboard backing. He watched as her own toothbrush bobbed in her mouth, the froth of the paste lining her lips as she worked on the packaging.
She looked adorable and he tried not to smile.
When she finally got the brush free their eyes met when she handed it to him and she continued up the motions of brushing her own teeth. He waited a few beats, in awe of the gesture before him and spread the toothpaste from his finger onto the bristles. He eyed her curiously before he started up his own motions.
They stood then, side by side in front of the sink and brushed their teeth in silence. It was a bizarre, surreal moment and like none other he had experienced with her. He didn't let himself linger on the comfort of this personal moment for too long because he knew what this was - a morning where he had woken in her space after a night where she'd needed him. The problem was her need for him had always been sporadic and in the cold light of day he could already feel it fading.
She spat out the toothpaste and rinsed the brush under the tap before putting it back into the cup. He followed her motions, rinsing his brush and dropping absentmindedly in the cup next to hers.
He looked over at her then and watched the side of her face as she eyed their toothbrushes that now sat side-by-side and he knew what she was thinking. He could practically see the walls erecting before him. She wiped the corners of her mouth and finally she surrendered to his gaze and he saw the apprehension clear as day within those brown eyes.
It was as if the signal that toothbrush would have represented had just dawned on her and he knew that had never been her intention. It was just supposed to be an off the hand offer, not some expectation or promise for the future. He ignored the pang of disappointment because he needed to get that look off her face – now.
"Liv," he started and he saw her jaw clench at the thought of what he might say.
His mind ticked over and suddenly for her sake more than his he changed course.
"We should get going."
They arrived at the precinct separately which hadn't exactly been intentional but she was grateful.
Elliot had driven to his apartment first to get changed and she headed straight in to see Cragen. She had fled the scene last night after the incident and the last thing she needed was more doubt and uncertainty that she couldn't do her job. The case had hit her hard; they'd lost a child, but she knew what Cragen would be thinking – her capabilities were now halved without him.
Well screw that.
She'd survived without him before. Oregon, Computer Crimes, the odd case where he'd been tied up in court, out of town or on leave and she had done just fine. She was not going to let this beat her, she was strong enough on her own; a lesson she had learnt very early in life. It was just something about having him so close, yet so far that rattled her. He was still in her space but not by her side. He was adjacent to her desk but not opposite it. He was a constant, bitter reminder dangling in front of her of how things could be - or more to the point should be.
What scared her was that it would almost be easier if he weren't there at all - instead of quitting herhe should have quit. Period. Then maybe she'd have a chance at moving on and developing some sort of a bond or rhythm with Bennett because right now he was just a poor substitute.
She was angry, angry at his audacity to so selfishly change their path. Had he even considered his options? Her feelings or what this would do to them? She knew Sin would alter them considerably but she was too hell bent on saving his life to think too far into the future. She did what she had to do in the heat of the moment and had never expected it would result in him giving up on her - on them. He'd made the decision, taken away a part of her she'd never get back and replaced it with - she didn't even know. She wasn't even sure what they were doing and where it would lead and that was quite possibly what scared her the most. They'd given up their world, everything they had created together, the safety, the friendship, the team– the bond that would outlast life itself and for what?
Sex? A few explosive orgasms after a hard day at the office? She was well aware the effect he had on her body, it was like none other she had ever experienced, he was her yin to her yang but sex was at the end of the day – just sex.
She didn't even know the details of his family situation right now. He had moved out, his ring finger was bare, he had an apartment in the city she'd never seen and he'd signed the divorce papers but he hadn't talked about it. Not one word as to how he was taking the demise of his marriage; his high school sweetheart, the mother of his children and what's more - she didn't ask.
She felt like a bitch for brushing it under the rug but the truth is she didn't want to know. She didn't want to feel the guilt that used to seep into her during the darkest part of the night when her mind wandered to Elliot. His hands, his mouth, his scent. The look he gave her that day that lingered just a little too long - but that was it, just looks, she was entitled to that she determined, or at the very least a brief touch. They had been friends, they could touch, when the chips were down, they could touch goddamnit without her feeling like she was going straight to hell.
But damn, she wasn't going to lie. Last night had been phenomenal, there were no logical words she could process to describe the heat and pleasure she'd experienced when he touched her. Then his physical restraint at her attempt at reciprocation was excruciatingly noble. She wanted him so fucking badly but want and need were two very different things and she wasn't going to let herself rely on him. She just couldn't, she had done so in the past and had been burned - seared by his rejection and it nearly killed her.
She had been stand offish with him this morning because it had become all too much. The moment she woke up draped across the plains of his back the harsh reality hit her like a tone of bricks. She needed him; even in her subconscious sleep state she'd sought him out in her bed. He'd even turned away from her, lying flat on his stomach while she practically coated the side of his body with hers.
That wasn't her - she wasn't needy, she didn't pine, she didn't beg but she had done all those things and more last night. She'd temporarily lost her state of mind and now she had found herself marching into Cragen's office to get it back.
Elliot walked into the precinct and caught sight of the back of her head immediately. She was perched in the chair opposite Cragen's desk and he narrowed his eyes attempting to gauge the mood of the conversation.
Cragen seemed irritated which wasn't necessarily unusual but he would have expected compassion or empathy after the events of the Moore case or even a push for Huang maybe but not irritation. His jaw clicked as he imagined just what she was saying to piss him off.
Damn it Liv.
He heard the raised voices, the brief commotion and then she was up and out of her seat before he had a chance to tear his eyes away. She stormed out of Cragen's office - tension radiating off her body and he knew that don't fuck with me mood.
She made her way towards her desk without so much as a look in his direction and he made the mistake of reaching out and grasping her wrist halting her in her tracks. It was supposed to be innocent, just an attempt to stop her at his desk but he knew what she'd be thinking.
Don't touch me - not here.
She ripped her hand away from his immediately and his stomach dropped as her eyes shot daggers into his. His mouth opened and closed as he watched her, trying desperately to ascertain a way to fix his fuck up and quickly.
"Everything ok?" he mustered as casually as he could and she narrowed her eyes at him, still unable to get past his not so innocent touch. He could feel Bennett's eyes on them and she must have realized this wasn't the time or the place because her glare had softened slightly.
"It's fine," she managed, her voice a mixture of annoyance and disorder. He just nodded, not buying her token statement for a second but knowing he couldn't do a thing about it.
She moved then, back to her desk and he could see Bennett eyeing her curiously as she grabbed a few items from her desk.
"I've got an appointment," she told Bennett directly, her voice a fraction more forgiving when she spoke to him. "I'll be back around 11, I'm on my cell."
Bennett didn't ask for any more information than what she provided and it surprised Elliot. He was usually one to pry, overstep the partner boundary and it was only fitting that the one time Elliot wanted him to push her, he didn't.
"You look pissed Olivia."
Huang must have seen the storm in her eyes because there was no formal greeting or hello, he'd just cut right to the chase. Under any other circumstance she'd have rewarded his blunt statement with a knowing scoff or a sarcastic smile but not today.
She waspissed. Livid at the fact that Cragen had yet again insisted she be here to discuss how undeniably hopeless she was at her job. The tension ransacking her body had only increased on the ride over here and as hard as she tried she knew that in moments she would unload the brunt of it on Huang.
"How many times are we going to do this?" she expelled the words with distaste as she dropped down on the couch in frustration. Huang clicked the door shut tentatively and walked over to his seat, gauging her body language as he did so.
"Do what?" he posed the obvious question and she wanted to scoff - more games, she just wanted to get to the point so she could get back to the precinct.
"Waste a quarter of a tank so I can drive over here and discuss my feelings every time I scuff my knee." She wasn't holding back and was almost begging him to challenge her.
"Is that how you look at this?" Huang asked slowly. "A scuffed knee?" His concern for the situation was evident and she felt the overwhelming sense of guilt wash over her.
Emily.
'No.' She should have said, because it would have been her honest answer but instead -
"This isn't the first time I've lost," she reminded him, trying desperately to stifle the defensive flare in her tone. "I've been through the motions - this case is no different."
She thought if she vocalized it she would start to believe it but the lie made her throat constrict and the distant prod of tears began to overwhelm her. She narrowed her eyes trying to counteract their presence and for the time being she managed to succeed.
She was waiting for it, waiting for him to register what he'd just seen in her eyes and call her out on it. She had expected he would come back with the harsh truth. 'But this case wasdifferent Olivia,' or something along those lines, instead –
"You miss your partner," his voice had been so quiet it was almost a whisper.
The statement jarred her. There had been no sugar coating, no leisurely build up to the reasoning behind her demise, just the honest reality laid out bare-naked in front of them. He wasn't going to be patient with her she realized and she knew then that today all bets would be off. She narrowed her eyes at him, ready for a fight - ready to defend herself and begin her tired course of denial. Then it struck her that everyone still referenced Elliot as her partner, even after the fact. How was she meant to move on when even they couldn't? It helped, she realized, deep down she felt a small sense of solace at the recognition that a few months apart hadn't completely erased their 12 years. It was that moment that she felt she owed Huang something, even if just for that slight sense of reassurance. He had been frank and so would she.
"Everyday."
She'd said the word, her tone had been bitter but she knew he'd picked up on the weakness she was desperately trying to conceal. She was supposed to be defending herself, proving that she could functionally exist without him but there was something about Huang that temporarily disabled her defenses. Cragen had been different, she'd flared up, he'd flared up and they'd pushed and pulled their conversation like a tug-of-war until it landed her on Huang's couch. She had no one to blame but herself for being here, she knew what she could have said to avoid this. The truth was maybe she needed this - to talk about himwith someone as far removed as her situation allowed.
"Do you and Elliot talk?" Huang asked her.
The question slammed her back into reality and she held her breath. Fuck it, fuck what she had just said - she didn't want to talk about Elliot, because talking about Elliot these days was a whole different ball game. She didn't think she had the ability to hide the way she felt about him from Huang anymore – hell even Fin had picked up on it.
Her mouth made motions to talk and she felt the heat seeping into her chest, rising up her neck and flushing her cheeks. She prayed that Huang hadn't noticed her body practically ignite. She was trying to figure out how she was going to respond but any answer that came to mind could be potentially damaging. She had been silent for too long and the more she prolonged this the more suspicious he'd become.
"Sometimes," she answered and her voice had somehow miraculously been controlled. Then she realized her answer had just opened up the avenue to more questions and she knew what was coming next.
"What do you talk about?" he asked her curiously.
She felt cornered, she tried to think – she had no idea. They didn't talk really, they hadn't actually spoken about a damn thing that mattered since Sin. Fortune cookies were all that came to mind, fucking fortune cookies. She exhaled and threw her hands up a little in defeat realizing she had nothing.
"Nothing really," she voiced her realization. "Just small talk." She couldn't understand how they had become so close physically without so much as a conversation that hadn't involved ancient Chinese prophecies.
"Liv," Huang began and immediately Olivia felt the mood shift in the room, as if suddenly he was talking to her as a friend as opposed to a professional.
She clasped her hands before her as if she were bracing herself for a bombshell, something far worse than the forward questions he'd already dropped today. His mouth opened and she held her breath.
"You need to talk to him," he said it so casually it pained her, like it was that easy. It wasn't rocket science; you just pull him aside, you open your mouth and your heart and the words will come.
Her jaw clenched and she tightened her clasped hands - suddenly she wanted to hit something. There were no words of wisdom, she wasn't going to be struck with some profound epiphany – she was simply going to walk out of here just as irate as she'd entered. All he had given her was a captain obvious statement that Cragen could have thrown at her back at the precinct.
She'd dropped the eye contact and she was staring at the maroon swirls in the carpet, her fingers pressing into the flesh of her hands. She was just going to walk out she decided because she had nothing left to say and she was done discussing Elliot. Then as if Huang could sense she was nearing the end of her tether, he said the words that made her stomach drop a mile.
"He's not married anymore," he said quietly.
Her head shot up immediately and she locked eyes with him in utter shock that he'd actually dropped the motherload of all bombshells when she had been least prepared for it. Her mouth opened and then closed suddenly and she could hear her heartbeat slamming in her ears at Huang's blatant comment. She took a sharp intake of breath before responding.
"And that's relevant how?" she pressed before she mulled too long on her response. She had gone straight to pure, black and white denial. He considered her for a brief moment before answering.
"You tell me," he said knowingly and the pounding in her ears heightened considerably. In the 12 years that she'd known Huang, he had never been this direct with her, open and downright frank. She felt cornered, trapped and unbelievably tired of the constant need to defend and deny herself.
The pinpricks of tears were back, prodding at her stubborn eyes that remained locked with Huang's. She tried to figure out if this was the part where she would crack and let it all spill out or if she'd muster the last ounce of strength her fragile body would allow. She took the short sharp breaths that she could only just manage and because she was a fighter, she didn't go down that easy.
"I'm here to talk about Emily," she said deflecting his question entirely, the sour tone on her tongue clearly evident.
"No," Huang didn't miss a beat. "You're here to talk."
The authority in Huang's voice was foreign, it embodied strength she'd never been privy too and it was unnerving. She wondered if perhaps he was trying an alternate path with her because sympathy and compassion had only gotten him so far in the past. Or maybe Huang was just reaching the end of histether with her. Either way it had now dawned on her that Cragen hadn't sent her here to discuss the Moore case - she was here to talk about Elliot. She rubbed a hand over the front of her face from the sheer frustration of it all and let out the breath she was holding. She wasn't strong enough for this, she was crippling by the second, losing the merciless fight she'd spent 12 long years battling.
"What do you want me to say?" she expelled in a breath hoping he would pick up on the exhaustion in her voice and drop it but if he had, he certainly hadn't granted her any sympathy.
"I want you to be honest with yourself Olivia," he said and she picked up on the irritation from his end, as if he'd been waiting to speak to her like this for years.
The words ticked over in her mind. 'I want you to be honest with yourself'. Not with him or with Elliot – but herself. That quite possibly was the most terrifying of all because stifling, suppressing and dismissing was all she'd ever known from the moment her mother picked up that first bottle. She pressed her eyes closed and begged, pleaded with herself not to break, she had come so far and she wasn't going to do this in front of Huang. She'd cried in front of him before but that was for the victims, for the losses, for the toll it had taken on her mentality. This was hers, it was personal - her own weathered feelings for Elliot that she needed to sort out.
"Aren't you tired Liv?"
She must have been transparent as all hell she decided because he saw right through her every time and she realized then why she loathed coming here. Not because it made her feel any less capable as a detective, on the field, with the victims or her squad but because he was the only one who saw through the barriers. He had the ability to crack her stubborn shell and she could do nothing to stop the yolk of truth from oozing out.
She opened her eyes then and she knew, they were wet now and it would be minutes, seconds maybe until that first tear would circle the rim and fall from grace. The lump in her throat was now affecting her ability to respond verbally so she shook her head instead, hoping that he would fill the silence so she wouldn't have to. He just watched her, waiting for her to answer the question he'd posed but all she could focus on was her chest that was now begging for oxygen. Her mouth opened finally and when she tried to speak the sob overpowered anything coherent and that inevitable tear spilled down her cheek.
She dropped her face in her hands because she didn't want him to watch this, the breakdown she'd been suppressing since Sin, or if she was really honest with herself - well before Sin. She pressed her face into her palms while the sound of her sobs and her inability to breathe surrounded her being. Darkness was all she saw and it was the tiniest of comforts because it meant she wasn't looking into Huang's eyes.
She pressed her lips together, trying to control the unsavory sounds racking through her body but that only lessened her opportunity for a breath and suddenly she was gasping for air. She hated herself for this, loathed the pitiful puddle of weakness she'd become. She couldn't have waited until she got home tonight to unleash the floodgates, it just had to happen right now when Huang was diligently taking it all in only to report back to Cragen. She took a deep breath then, at that damaging reminder that this would go further than these four walls and somehow she managed to breathe again. She pulled her face out of her palms, ignored the inevitable mascara trails her breakdown would have left and looked Huang straight in the eyes – her expression suddenly void of emotion. When she finally reigned in her breathing, everything calmed inside her once more and she latched onto the one thing she knew how to do.
Walk away.
She didn't go back to the office and she was probably going to lose her job at this point but she just couldn't.
She couldn't deal with Bennett's questions, Elliot's unrelenting presence and Fin's knowing stares. She'd called Cragen and in the calmest voice she could muster requested the rest of the day off so she could get herself in check. She never did that, never freely admitted weakness and took an opportunity to skip work for her sanities sake but today she did.
She started to drive home intent on showering, taking a few sleeping pills and finally getting the rest her body so desperately craved but something pulled at her. When she saw the sign for the local bar she thought about the bottle of scotch that Elliot had so mercilessly tipped out as if he were suggesting she had a problem. She didn't – she knew her limits but every now and then she'd break, because she was only human. Sometimes all she needed was one drink, or a couple, but the differentiating factor that separated her from her mother was that it never truly allowed her escape. She could never completely mask the feelings like her mother could and she never woke up in a pool of her own vomit.
She started with a beer, because it was only just after midday and she didn't want the judgment, even if it would only be from the lone bar tender. It had been cold, refreshing and went down a little too easily so when she ordered her second she made a conscious effort to nurse it for longer.
The pub was nothing special and aspects of it reminded her of the Brewhouse in D.C. where she'd followed Silverman that night. She almost wished that he was here now, sitting beside her so they could both discuss how fucked up their worlds had become - only he would trump her every time because he'd lost his world when he fell in love with his partner. She pulled at her bottom lip with her finger, lingering on the memory and wondered if his partner was still out there and what damning hell she would be experiencing in the horrific confines of Iran. Her inability to help continued to gnaw at her and she took a long draw of her beer telling herself that she couldn't save the world. If she couldn't save Emily - she certainly couldn't save Silverman's partner.
She'd often thought about what it would be like to pursue a life in the bureau, the curiosity peaked her interest during her undercover stint with Dana and then rapidly inclined the day Porter and Terri dodged the bullet due to that heightened national security bull. The power, the control and the worth she'd encompass – she wouldn't have to watch Cragen bend over and take it when the feds slam their case to a screeching halt. She'd get to be the prick that waltzes in there and tells them theirhands are tied and that theirfeelings don't matter. Her whole world would be the job, even more so than it is now and she wouldn't have to focus on the insignificant things in life, like the way her married partner used to look at her for just that moment too long or how her flesh would ignite when his body accidently gazed past hers. She wouldn't have time to stop and assess how lonely and trivial her life had become because before she knew it, it would be over. Just like Porter's, just like Silverman's and then finally she'd get to fulfill that overwhelming urge to be free.
But this was reality she had to keep reminding herself and she what she did day-to-day did matter; the victim's needed her just as much as she needed the victims. Besides whose to say she'd find happiness in a corrupt, bureaucratic organization like the FBI anyway. She'd still feel the of weight of failure, that sharp tug of the reigns being tightened and if her partner was anything like Elliot, she was sure she'd still find time in the darkest part of the night to linger on the unattainable.
As she neared the end of her second beer she loathed herself for indulging in this pity party because it could have beenhershe kept reminding herself. It could have been her wagon, her fate, her life that had been cast to an eternity in Iran. She needed to appreciate that she still had her world, her freedom, her partner –damn it. Elliot, she still had Elliot in her life even if he wasn't her partner she still had him and last night she had him in her bed. Fuck.She still couldn't allow herself to believe it or mull on it too much, it was almost like a dream, a fantasy, her imagination. No – it had been real, no dream could make her body respond the way his hands could.
She thought about his hands then, those beautiful, strong, relentless hands that rendered her body completely submissive to him. He hadn't even kissed her last night, he kept his lips, his mouth, his tongue hostage making the urge only greater from the restraint. She could feel the alcohol settling into her system, relaxing her senses and she wanted to kiss him again. To feel his mouth pry hers open, his tongue sliding in and to hear that raspy grunt rip from the back of his throat as her tongue meets his. She wants him to kiss her, to touch her and fuckshe wants him naked because she hasn't even seen all of him yet. She wants the rough, firm and demanding man from the alley but she also wants the soft and attentive guy from last night. She wants so much from him it petrifies her because what she has to give in return pales in comparison.
She didn't order a third beer, instead she left the pub and walked the two streets until she hit the leafy greens of Central Park. She walked then, through the familiar cement walk ways, taking in the foliage, the fresh air, the children with their families, women jogging, allowing herself to experience the wonders of the park. Not as a detective who focused on the horrors it had previously encountered but as a woman on a quest to feel free.
When the sun began to set across the park she finally made her way back to her car. As she passed a row of restaurants and eateries she caught a whiff of the intertwined flavors and her stomach started to rumble. It was then that she realized in her daze that she hadn't actually eaten today.
She'd chose a modest Chinese restaurant where the patrons were so animated no one noticed her sitting quietly at her table for one. She ordered the mooshoo pork, a glass of red and tried to ignore the pang of disappointment that she wouldn't be able to trade half way with Elliot. She took her time, subtly observing the families and the couples enjoying their dinner conversation and wondered if she'd every feel that comfortable.
When she finally decided to call it a night the waiter brought the check over and placed it on her table with a polite smile. As she reached for her wallet her eyes couldn't help but settle on the small presumptuous cookie that sat idle in the tray.
It was late when she finally got home and her heart rate ascended when she saw him, sitting on her stoop – just waiting for her.
Ordinarily she'd be annoyed, shake her head at his inability to recognize when she needed space and honor it but she couldn't move past the fact that he had not only come for her, but that he'd waited.
His legs were braced on the steps below and his hands were clasped in his lap. He looked comfortable, like he'd happily wait all night for her. He didn't smile when he saw her but she registered the flicker his eyes made at her presence.
She approached him slowly, cautiously almost until finally she settled on perching herself on the steps. She purposefully left a body space between them and he'd noticed. She mirrored his stance with her hands clasped before her, forearms on her knees and suddenly it was four ears ago and he was telling her that he'd signed the divorce papers. The only thing missing was the coffee she'd brought him as a peace offering.
I'm the longest relationship you've ever had with a man.
She shivered at the memory because it still rang true and if she were honest with herself she knew that would be a constant in her life that would never change. That night she had asked him if they were ok and she had been petrified of the answer - now she got the overwhelming feeling that he was about to ask her the same thing.
A few moments ticked between them as she looked straight ahead at the passerby's who were ambling towards their building on the opposite side of the road.
"Where've you been?" he asked breaking the silence and there was no accusation there, just curiosity and a hint of concern.
Her gaze dropped down to her interlaced fingers and her thumbs wrestled against each other tirelessly. "Just out." She gave him, because the details of where weren't important. He was looking ahead and not at her and a part of her was thankful that she didn't have his gaze to deal with right now, just his questions.
"Everything ok?" he asked despite already knowing the answer and she closed her eyes, the lump in her throat immediately forming. No.
You need to talk to him.
It was Huang's voice in her head now and instead of her automatic response to suppress the honestly she somehow managed to vocalize the long overdue question that had kept her up for the past 7 months.
"What happened with Kathy El?" her voice had been quiet and although things were considerably different between them now she was still generally concerned for him as a friend. She just hated herself and her selfish reasons for not asking him sooner.
She heard the strained exhale beside her and knew he hadn't expected that nor did he want to talk about it. She wanted to tell him he wasn't alone, she didn't want to be discussing this either but if they didn't, it would only continue to gnaw at them.
"Liv," he began and immediately from the tone she knew he was on the defensive. "Don't."
Her eyes widened in surprise at his request for her to drop it. She'd wished Huang was here right now because this illustrated perfectly every reason why she didn't open up with Elliot - a little hard when the other party doesn't want to have a bar of. She pulled her bottom lip between hers and bit down slightly until she generated enough strength to try again.
"I need to know," she said slowly and even she was shocked by her candidness because it was an admission - for this to go any further she needed to know.
A painful silence invaded their moment and she wondered if he'd shoot her down again or if he'd actually give her something in return this time. The confusion was overwhelming and she couldn't understand why it was so hard for him. This wasn't new, four years ago he'd opened up to her about Kathy, about the reasons that pulled them apart, about his self-doubt as a husband.
That's why I signed the divorce papers, I didn't want Kathy to ever regret me.
Now however, she could feel something had changed significantly, something was off and it scared the hell out of her. He took long, drawn out, painful moments before he spoke.
"I just," he began and in the same breath, "couldn't do it anymore." It was a half assed response and he knew it, she felt cheated and dismissed by his response. He was a terrible liar when it came to his personal life and she deserved more than that.
"What couldn't you do anymore?" she pressed, because she knew it had to be something else, something other than dealing with the fighting, the job, the late nights, the kids.
He was running his hands up and down the thighs of his pant legs now and she could practically feel the tension that was tightening every muscle in his body. It overwhelmed her at how closed off he was right now and the body length between them didn't help.
"El?" She tried to nudge him gently with her voice but all she got in return was an exaggerated sigh.
Her thumbs stopped their frantic fidgeting and she felt the pull to touch him, to slide closer and grasp his forearm reassuringly as if that may somehow help him open up to her. Without a clear reason she didn't move or perhaps it was the risk he'd recoil from her touch that was too much to bear.
"Where did you go tonight?" he repeated his question from earlier and she scoffed under her breath, her short nails digging into the skin of her hands.
"Out Elliot - why won't you talk to me?" The frustration escaped through her gritted teeth and she turned, taking in the side of his face as he continued to stare ahead. When he didn't answer or even attempt to look her way, she shook her head moments from standing up because this was pointless. She had realized a world of change had happened in the past four years and now he was a solid brick wall.
"What is so different this time?" she practically yelled and she was gearing herself up for a fight because he didn't seem to be responding without one. She was still looking at the side of his face when he turned, their eyes locking in place. Her stomach dropped with what she saw in his eyes, a truth, thetruth about to be pummeled into her.
"You," he practically shouted and his response made her dizzy. He looked pissed, angry as all hell and it threw her through a loop, the confusion must have been clearly evident in her eyes because he was shaking his head at her. "Fuck Olivia," he yelled in frustration, "Do I have to spell it out?"
Her mouth parted and if she weren't so blindsided right now she would have abused him for speaking to her like that but she was trying to piece together what he was telling her. She wanted to look away because the way he was looking at her right now made it hard for her to catch her breath.
"It was different because of you Olivia," his voice was loud and she could see his fists clenching in his lap and the cynical part of her refused to believe what he appeared to be telling her.
"What did I do?" she yelled back in defense matching his aggravation and he laughed then, a sarcastic, cocky laugh before he looked away shaking his head.
"Nothing, Olivia, you did nothing," he mumbled as he continued to look out into the night, "and that was the problem." He was no longer yelling.
She was slowly getting it, her heart was thumping in her chest now and she still didn't want to believe it. Was he really telling her he wanted her to initiate something earlier, before Sin, before the divorce papers? Her mouth opened and then closed again as she tried to figure out what she was supposed to say to that. How the hell he expected her to respond to his blatant confession.
"What are you telling me Elliot?" she said with intense but controlled frustration because she still wasn't exactly sure. "In black and white," she demanded.
She noticed the way his muscles strained beneath his clothing at the lack of comprehension he was receiving from her but she wanted him to be clear, no more skirting around the issue - she wanted to hear it straight.
Without looking in her direction his mouth opened slowly and she tried desperately to calm her heart rate down because it was in her ears now and she needed to hear this.
"I tried with Eli, I really did," he began softly and the volume was a world away from the shouting match she'd just encountered. He still wasn't looking at her but it didn't matter because he was finally talking. "It was a second chance to go back and right some wrongs with Kathy, alleviate the guilt, start over, rekindle what we once had…" his voice trailed off and she pushed her hands between her knees and just listened, as hard as it was to hear, she was content that he was finally opening up to her.
"I got home for diaper duty, I avoided the late nights," he told her slowly. "I did everything a husband was supposed to do." He told her letting out a pained sigh. "But I guess... eventually I realized," he started, his voice suddenly decibels quieter, "the job was never the issue Liv."
She needed to breathe, just open her mouth so she could catch a breath because suddenly she felt faint. She watched the side of his face as he stared intently at his hands and all she wanted to do was look away because it was all too much. Her eyes had become fixated on the side of his face and out of pure necessity she allowed her chest to rise and her lungs to fill with much needed oxygen. She was still trying to figure out if she had this right, was he really telling her he'd left his wife of 20 plus years because of her. Seven whole months ago - without so much as a damn word about it.
"Say something," he said quietly. The nerves spread through her body like wildfire and despite the fact that it was warm out she shivered against the night air.
He'd just opened up to her, more than she'd ever expected he would have and suddenly she had been rendered mute. Her mouth opened a couple of times but dear God the words weren't forming and she didn't want to misstep in this moment. Instead she picked absently at her cuticles, searching for the words, all the while her eyes never leaving his face.
"That night with Bushido," he broke the silence and she was grateful that he was continuing because it meant she didn't have to. "Then watching you kiss Stuckey…" his words trailed off and she closed her eyes. "The moment Rojas had that gun to your head and that fuck Porter nearly cost me everything," he rubbed a hand over his face before he finally looked across at her. "All moments in time where I'd go home, have sex with my wife," his eyes dipped down to her lips, "and I'd think of..."
The pang of hurt sliced through her heart and she didn't want to hear this, or picture this or want this in her head. The more he told her, the less she wanted to hear and it was her own fault for forcing him to open up to her. She wondered if she stood up right now, walked into her apartment and left him on her stoop if he'd ever speak to her again.
She looked away, because she couldn't stand the eye contact he now seemed intent on holding and she focused instead on the scuffmarks on her shoes.
"I couldn't go on like that," he whispered. "It wasn't fair to anyone."
She was silent, still mute and she could tell he wasn't impressed by her lack of participation in this conversation but what the hell was she supposed to say to that? Telling her he'd pictured her while he was fucking his wife wasn't exactly a hallmark card.
"Say something Olivia," his voice was back to an increased volume and she rubbed the back of her neck anxiously before throwing her hands up in defeat.
"What do you want me to say?" she pressed defensively, still unable to move past the confession that produced all sorts of confusing and unwanted images.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he answered as if it were obvious, "tell me I wasn't alone."
That snapped her out of her daze and she turned to face him then, her eyes widening at his brash assumption but he was ready for it.
"You gonna deny it?" he said with an unconvinced look on his face. She could tell he knew she'd say something to belittle the situation and trivialize it into something a lot less easier to swallow but again he was ready.
"Olivia, I know you want me," he said with no cockiness whatsoever, just with cold, honest conviction. "You wanted me in your bed last night, in the alley that night, at Sin.." he reminded her as if she might have forgotten how all this had all started. "And I know you want me now."
Her heart thumped wildly and suddenly she was regretting the body space she'd left between them because it meant he couldn't reach out and touch her. All of his accusations rang true and there was no point in denying him. There was however that lingering question that would forever gnaw at her if she didn't voice it right now. She sucked in a breath before forming the words on her lips that he was still involuntarily staring at.
"Do you even miss your partner?" her voice had been soft but her words were laced in accusation, she couldn't hide the anguish at the thought that he could move on so easily.
His eyes flicked up to hers and his eyebrows drew together in confusion. At first she thought he was going to ask her to explain herself but his uncertainty was now morphing into a deep seeded irritation.
"Of course I do," he stabbed as if she were ridiculous for even proposing he didn't. That angered her because it damn well didn't feel like it.
"So it doesn't bother you that you choose sex over our partnership?" she stabbed back, knowing what that would do to him but still shaking her head at him in disbelief.
"You think this is just sex," he looked at her bewildered.
"I don't really know what this is," she told him honestly, the annoyance still evident. She had found her voice and was now going to make up for its absence. "It just would have been nice to have a say in the matter before you decided it was worth the trade." Her words riled him and she could see in his eyes that he was not going to take it lying down.
"Jesus Olivia, Imade the decision?" he half laughed out of shock. "After what went down at Sin, youmade that decision." He pushed the blame right back at her, refusing to budge on the issue. She was blinking at him rapidly now, the tension streaming into her fingertips, making them curl over in anger.
His eyes probed hers and his mouth parted, his voice now suddenly deeper and more controlled. "Why don't youstart being honest with me and tell me why you let things get so out of hand."
She cleared her throat. "I already told you, to save your-"
"Liv," he scoffed, cutting her off bitterly, "you were moaning, begging me to touch you," he reminded her before she got too far into her denial and she felt her cheeks flush involuntarily. She saw it then, something register in his eyes as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him and she held her breath. "Tell me something," he said with a knowing consideration that made her heart slam fiercely against her rib cage. "Would it have gone down differently had I been wearing my ring?"
Her eyes narrowed at him then and she lost her pitiful grasp on control. "Screw you," she breathed out and because she was weak and he was cruel she was going to walk away from this ambush. She stood up trying not to stumble in her footing but he was already vertical before she had time to create any distance.
When she started to move up the stairs he grabbed the lapel of her leather jacket and pulled her towards him, she jerked in his grasp crashing awkwardly into his chest. Her hands came up to steady herself against the plains of his chest and she pulled back immediately trying to obtain some distance.
"You can't have it all Olivia," he whispered, his lips dangerously close to hers as she swayed on the step, her heart thumping a mile. "So decide what it is you want from me." He rasped, his words full of irritation and underlying desire.
She finally managed to steady herself enough on the steps to jerk out of his grasp, yanking her jacket out of his hold. She dug her hand into her jean pocket and searched for the tiny piece of paper that she knew was about to seal their fate.
He watched her anxiously, tension radiating from his body as she pushed the strip of paper into his chest. As she let go he reached out and grasped it before it flittered to the ground, just watching her in confusion.
"Good night Elliot," she drawled the bitter words and he didn't stop her or even shift when she removed the few steps between him and her building door.
As the door to her building closed behind her she wondered if the message she left Elliot would crush him as hard as it crushed her. With each step a part of her broke until she reached her front door and she was a crumbling mess. Her back hit the solid wood of the door as she slid down into a crippling heap.
When she'd cracked that cookie on her drive home the message rang out to her loud and clear and the irrational part of her had chosen to believe it was fate.
Some stones are better left unturned.
TBC
