Chapter 1
It'd been raining for days now
Olivia sat back in the driver seat of her Ford Explorer, watching as the droplets of water drummed on the windshield before being swept away. Every few minutes someone would pass by as they scurried their way into the precinct to escape the storm. Fin and Rollins would be in court all day, and the only thing waiting for her inside was a stack of paperwork that needed to be reviewed or signed off on. There was no rush.
She closed her eyes and listened to the lulling rhythm of the windshield wipers.
For a moment it was as if the city streets were silenced of horns and sirens; and all she could hear was the pitter-patter of the raindrops, followed by the whoosh of them being brushed off.
Her mind began to drift as she imagined being on a beach. Her body stretched comfortably over a lounge chair in the sand, blue skies mirroring turquoise waters, the warmth of the sunshine as it enveloped her body, her olive skin a few shades deeper. She could hear the waves crashing against the shore—and she found that similarly to the windshield wipers, the ocean also had its own rhythm.
She began to lose herself in reverie, visualizing every detail, every sound, every emotion. She thought about the cold cocktail she'd be gripping loosely in one hand and what book would be resting on her lap; probably something by Gloria Steinem or Roxane Gay.
In these moments of temporary escapism, she was never waiting for the next call, the next victim, the next perp.
She loved her job, and had wondered if she should feel guilty for needing to get away from the darkness that came with the territory of working SVU. She'd brought it up in therapy, and after a few sessions realized it was okay to need a break, even if only in her mind. It didn't mean she cared any less, or that it made her a bad cop, it only meant that she was human.
The deeper she drifted, the more she felt she was really there. The sound of kids laughing in the distance while they buried one another in the sand, the smell of the salty air, and the rustling of palm trees as the gentle ocean breeze danced all around them. Suddenly a hand would reach out and rest gently on her lap, she'd lift her head from the book for a moment, and in the chair next to hers would be a familiar face she'd memorized better than her own.
Elliot.
Olivia's eyes snapped open and her body jolted upright—her heart was racing and felt as if it might beat out of her chest. She took a few deep breaths, her arm cradling her head as it rested on the steering wheel.
This wasn't the first time it happened—in fact, almost all of her daydreams ended this way.
She'd work up all the details, big and small, and then just when everything felt like it was almost perfect, there he was. The missing piece.
And every time, the image of him would send a flood of adrenaline through her body.
No matter what she tried, that was always how it went. She didn't understand it, but she also wasn't ready to divulge it to her therapist yet.
On the surface, Olivia seemed like someone who'd untangled the web of emotions that consumed every part of her when he left; sadness, anger, betrayal, confusion, loss. And while she convinced the rest of the world that she'd moved on with her life, those emotions still lingered— and she knew they always would.
As the years passed and she worked through the stages of grief, she realized that out of all of them, anger was the most bearable. The most justifiable.
After twelve years of pouring yourself into someone that leaves one day without an explanation, without a goodbye, who wouldn't be angry? But as much as she'd felt angry with him, she was more angry with herself. In the beginning, she was angry with herself for being angry at him, for allowing herself to feel things for a man that would never be hers, for even fantasizing a parallel universe where it was just them.
Elliot and Olivia.
Time didn't stop or slow down when she was grieving. The days felt endless without him at first, but eventually she realized that the years were flying by, and her anger began to evolve.
It was there, but it'd shifted from rage and fury to disillusionment. Elliot's actions didn't align with the man she'd thought he was, there was no loyalty or honor in the way he'd left her, so she decided to put him in her "fuck you" file and leave it at that.
There were moments when the rage boiled up again and took over, usually preceded by a joyful moment.
Promotions, birthdays, all the things worth celebrating cut short when she realized he wasn't there to share them with her. The happiness would quickly fade and all she was left with was the raw reality that even after so much time she couldn't let him go.
It was infuriating that he got to strip her from that joy, and that no matter how much she tried to hate him, she couldn't.
A flash of lightning cut through the sky and broke her train of thought, bringing her back to reality.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror.
Her chestnut colored hair fell just below her shoulders, and the lines around her eyes had become harsher over the years. She wore the evidence of her aging as a badge of honor. She'd been on the force for more than two decades and didn't expect to be the same freshed-faced cop she once was.
The time on her dashboard read 8:34am.
She'd been in her own world for God knows how long, and decided it was time to head in and start the day.
She shut off the engine and gathered her belongings. She reached behind her seat to grab the umbrella that was still damp from the walk to her car earlier.
She braced herself and opened the door. The brisk October air chilled her body almost immediately.
As she made her way across the parking lot to the front entrance of the precinct, raindrops collected on the surface of her black boots, and periodically she would feel one land on her skin.
She tried to imagine they were droplets of water from the ocean mist, but a boom of thunder cut her short from entering another reality.
The doors to the precinct were old and heavy, causing her to struggle to keep the umbrella upright. She managed to snap it shut, and as she made her way to the elevators it dripped across the linoleum floor leaving behind a trail.
The squad room was fairly empty aside from a few unis. She let out a sigh of relief. It'd been a long weekend of working, and the thought of having to make small talk or niceties was far down on the list of things she wanted to do right now, but the thought of spending the day in her office alone with a stack of files didn't sound so bad.
She turned the corner towards her office and noticed the light was on.
Hadn't she turned it off when she left last night? She could've sworn she did. But then again, she had been in the office until nearly 1am trying to find similarities between their latest case and a series of rapes that went cold 10 years ago.
The same time she'd been navigating through the muddy waters of heartbreak over Elliot's departure.
The moments of her feeling like a bad cop were few and far between, but when she reflected on the first months of the post-Elliot era and how it affected her ability to be present and sharp, she knew she hadn't been the best detective. Victims and cases all blurred into one, perps set her off easier than ever before, and patience for team members was almost non-existent.
Pangs of guilt ran through her when she'd think back to that time. The grief had spilled into every corner of her life and other people were left to deal with repercussions of something they hadn't done. They weren't the ones that abandoned her.
He was.
She turned the metal handle to her office and the door creaked quietly as it opened.
There was someone there, their back facing the doorway as they admired the picture frames on a shelf. It only took a split second for her to realize.
The smell of his cologne permeated the air in the room, he still had the same broad shoulders and rigid posture. As the door shut behind her, he looked over his shoulder and immediately turned around.
He looked exactly as she'd remembered, and just like her, the lines and wrinkles were more visible.
He was wearing a dark blue suit that seemed as though it was custom made just for him. His hands rested in his pockets and the first few buttons of his white shirt were undone.
They locked eyes and stood there for what felt like an eternity before he broke the silence
"Hey, Captain."