I had planned to finish this one-shot for Ashley's birthday, but I wasn't able to.
Here it is, a little late. Sorry Ashley but thanks for being Beta
I LOVE the idea of Hank and Elliot meeting, and a meeting that surfaces a Jelliot would be fantastic.
Please let me know what you think 3
Olivia can feel the cold sweat breaking out across her brow. She has no reason to be nervous and holding her breath, but yet, here she is, sat behind her office desk gripping the edge of the table in front of her until her knuckles are white.
'It'll all be fine,' she says to herself, because of course it will. Neither man knows of the other; she hasn't seen or spoken to Hank for a good few years, and until recently the same previously had been said about Elliot.
She exhales, stretches her fingers out from their position of clasping the desk, and checks her watch.
Hank's flight was due in 45 minutes ago, and Elliot had texted Olivia and informed her he was heading over 35 minutes ago.
What could possibly go wrong?
Two men, similar temperaments, comparable style and entirely the same bleeding heart, both in the same room, working the same case, together.
No problem.
'It'll be fine,' she reminds herself, unsure as to whether she's using the optimistic version of the expression or the version she's regularly adopted her own approach on 'unexpressed internal feelings.'
Sure, both were different in some ways, but in others they were all too similar. Elliot and Hank both knew where the professional line was laid and both had a history of crossing over it.
"It will all be ok," she monologues, vocally reminding herself in an attempt to keep the rising anxiety at bay. As long as they stay in their own lanes, it will all be ok.
She anxiously checks her phone hoping for some indication as to who it may be that arrives first.
No messages.
No calls.
Placing it on the desk, she leans into the backrest of the chair and pinches the bridge of nose, bracing and preparing herself for the rapidly impending arrival of her visitors.
She flashes her eyes open when a gentle tap at the door gains her attention. Dropping her tensed form, she shuffles, adjusting her position into a more approachable, welcoming demeanour.
"Hey," Elliot greets, as he enters her office. A simple head nod is all he offers before burrowing his gaze back into his cell phone.
"Hey," she replies to the top of his head, breathing out a sigh of relief, grateful that he's too distracted to notice her obvious relief that it is him that's walked through the door first.
She watches him stroll through her office, take a seat on the couch opposite her desk, lean back, and loosen his jacket.
No matter how many years have passed, what has been said, what hasn't been said between them, he is still the one person who, in situations like this, behaves as if they haven't lost a minute of time, sitting back, making himself comfortable.
"Was this here the last time?" he suddenly announces, finally peering up from his cell and tapping his hand against the couch.
She squints her eyes as she attempts to remember when they forced the new minimalistic design on her office. "I think so," she finally replies. "They did move the couch for a bit but I moved it back. I like it there."
"Me too," he nods, not offering any form of elaboration. She considers adding that she doubts he noticed the layout of her office from the last time he was here, but she thinks better of it. It is probably best not to bring that up; no need to resurface the memory of her throwing herself against him in the interrogation room during what was a very tragic time.
After all the warnings she had received not to entangle herself with Elliot, she was taking a big risk bringing him back into SVU. Not only by asking him to consult on a case but on a case led by Hank Voight.
Elliot leans forward, digging his fingers into his pocket. She raises her eyebrows as she observes his apparent desperate struggle to retrieve a second phone from the pocket of his pants, and after a painfully long minute of observing his efforts, he eventually breaks it free and settles back, deeper into the couch.
"I'm pleased you've made yourself at home," she sarcastically jokes, allowing him to realise his own lack of communication.
His gaze flickers over the top of the phone towards her before she hears a click and he places it on the couch next to him.
"Eli," he wearily responds, shaking his head. "Making sure he's in school, or that he hasn't switched the tracking app off," he confirms.
Brushing her palms together, she nods before bowing her head down. Although things had improved recently, he didn't seem as chaotic, Eli had settled down and he appeared to be getting himself into a good mental space, she knew he was still struggling with some inner demons.
"So," he draws out as he looks around her office, taking everything in from the decor on the walls to the photographs on her desk. "It's different."
Following the trail of his gaze, memories she has of this office begin to resurface.
Captain Cragen sat behind the big chair, he was a superior stand-in parent to both of them, regularly having their backs but simultaneously letting them know when they had disappointed him. He would dispel their arguments; send them away to have time outs and sometimes offer his words of wisdom to bring them back together.
In that moment she thought of them and how they had never let each other down, always had each other's back no matter what the cost, and that everyone had heard of the Benson and Stabler duo.
Then he left, and she had her own memories, the times she had to make it on her own, created new partnerships that became friendships, found her own family, became lieutenant, fought through her own horrific time in her life, and came out strong enough to live the life she had dreamt, with her son. She had climbed the career ladder and was now, she was sat behind this desk, as Captain.
"This office has been through a lot," she says, bringing her thoughts back to the present. Lifting her thick-rimmed glasses from the table, she pushes them through her hair to sit on her head.
He blows out his cheeks as he begins to smirk, and she recognizes that smile. It's a one of mischief, a familiar one that always shows his hand, a symbol to everyone watching that he's going to ask something he feels really awkward about or he's going to make a playful quip.
"Remember that time you killed the biker?" he deadpans.
Voila. A random ice breaking quip.
Although he meant it to be funny and purposefully said it to make her laugh, she finds herself biting her bottom lip, weighing the complexity of his random outburst. Although he said it to ease the tension, the swift change caught her off guard. He knows she didn't kill the biker, but the irony of him bringing up that specific case to lighten the mood was even funnier than the wisecrack itself. She laughs because this could be an opportunity to bring up Ed, a very good opportunity to elaborate on the specific Ed she had referred to in hospital.
But, that's a big conversation and not one for now, so instead she chuckles, shaking her head from side to side.
"All the cases, over all of the years and that's the one you think about?"
"Well, it may not in your highlight reel but I put my whole house on the line for you." He inches himself forward on the couch. "For all I knew, you could have taken off and fled the country, living it up somewhere."
She laughs, biting her tongue for a short while before hitting him with, "Yeah, but, I left leaving to you." She winks at the end, letting him know she is playing.
"Ouch," he hisses in jest, throwing himself back against the couch.
She has missed this; she's missed the light-hearted playfulness and the momentary instances of fun. They used to have this before he left, before everything got so serious, sad, and awkward, and then when he returned, he was grieving and putting his life back together, and the entire time she supported him she just wanted to scream where have you been for ten years?
"You suit glasses." He takes a left turn, surprising her, again.
"Hhmmm," she flatly replies, subconsciously removing the glasses from her head and twiddling the arms of the frames on the desk in front of her.
Olivia has no notable reason as to why she feels embarrassed by his unexpected compliment. Perhaps it's the new awareness it brings to her age and the physical changes which are now obvious between them both.
"Liv." His voice has a patch of seriousness thrown into it, and she darts her eyes up to meet his gaze. He leans forward stroking the bottom of his chin. "You look great."
Looking away, she folds the glasses onto itself and leans down the desk to place them into her bag. Finally having a reason to like how big and bulky this desk is, she hides her flushed face.
"You know Olivia," She hears him mumble from her new hiding place. "If you wanted to see me, you could have just asked. You didn't need to make up a case for me to consult on."
"Ha," she loudly bellows as she swiftly lifts herself up. "You should be so lucky."
"Yeah, I would be," he confirms, his eyes briefly locking into hers. She lets her gaze linger for longer than she usually would, the moment quickly becoming the most intimate they have had since his return.
She quickly re-focuses her attentions elsewhere, hoping the heated flush she feels spreading across her face isn't visible to Elliot.
"You didn't come for Christmas," he unexpectedly states. There is no disappointment or questioning in his voice. It's matter of fact.
"I know," she murmurs under her breath.
"You didn't text me back," he hinted, probing her to open up more to the conversation.
"I know," she whispers again, bowing her head towards the table.
She checks the doorway, hopeful that Hank will arrive and reprieve her from having to give Elliot the explanation she owes him. Well, she doesn't owe him anything; he forfeited that when he left without a trace, but she wants to give him a reason. She wants him to understand that, on that day, she had wanted more than anything to be with Elliot, introduce her son to him and the other Stablers, meet his grandchildren, but when it came to it, she couldn't do it. She had panicked, freaked out, and had a huge rush of latent abandonment issues flood through her mind.
This new journey, development, friendship, whatever it is they were on was too fragile, raw.
When it was about the job, she could put all her feelings aside, allow Elliot to hide and mask his own in any way he wanted, but outside of a work environment, they had barely had a discussion since he was back. There were a few tense moments where they each revealed deep painful emotions, but as it always was with them, it wasn't mentioned again.
Christmas was special. It was a sacred time for her and Noah, and although she had to work many Christmas days over the years, she always made sure she had her time with her sweet boy.
Making the decision not to go had been difficult, but Elliot had not pushed her. He texted a couple of days later letting her know they all had missed them there, but he had never asked why.
They were making progress, painfully slow progress, but it was progress. They still had a lot to discuss, almost of decade of mystery to share with one another, and once they have more stable footing, that's when she wants to bring in Noah, when the past is finally behind them and they are moving towards a new direction, a new territory, together.
"Liv." Elliot tilts his head towards her, and she realises she's been silently staring through him for the past few seconds.
"Did you hear what I said?" he asks, and she knows he's smiling that cocky smile because she knows, he knows, that she has absolutely no idea whatever it was he said.
Drumming her fingers against the table, she moves her head from side to side in confession. Olivia likes this playful side to Elliot; it reminds her of when they were partners. "Sorry," she eventually admits. "I was thinking about something," she replies as she rolls her eyes towards him. "Tell me again?"
"Doesn't matter, what were you thinking about?"
"Elliot," she cautions, shooting him a look of warning. "Not today."
"Ok," he accepts easily, standing up from the couch and straightening himself up. "This him?" He gestures towards the office door just as it opens.
"Yes," she replies, standing up to join him but also simultaneously hanging back. Not that she would need to; Hank is just as brazen as Olivia.
"Olivia," Voight's deep husky voice calls out as he moves directly towards her desk. He's the same as he was the last time she saw him, self-confident, relaxed, shoulders back, head high, the staple leather jacket, the determined look in his eye.
"Hank," she greets as she manoeuvres herself from behind the desk. Olivia is unsure if it is the length of time since she last saw Hank or if her clumsiness is because she knows Elliot is watching on. But when she approaches Hank, she falters directly in front of him, raising her hand in the air for a shake but then immediately dropping it back down because that's a little too casual for old friends?
Overhearing Elliot's small chuckle at her mishap altercation is not helping, and she diverts the attention onto Elliot.
"Hank, this is Detective Stabler." She gestures towards Elliot. "He's the one who is helping out from organized crime."
Hank nods, offering his hand. The two men subtly look each other up and down.
It's the most testosterone this office has experienced.
Olivia cautiously watches the introduction unfold in front of her, and as tense as it is, it's brief because Hank takes his hand away from Elliot and turns to Olivia.
"How's Noah?"
Surprised, and needing a second to adjust to the quick change in direction, Olivia stutters, "He's good, he's really good, thanks for asking."
Elliot's in the corner of her eye and he's puffed out his chest, looking rigid.
"It's been so long, is he still into that dance thing?" Hank asks, genuinely interested, and she glances at Elliot again who hangs his head down, slightly.
She nods, wanting to engage in further conversation but conscious of what incorrect dots are connecting in Elliot's head so she swiftly moves on.
"So." She makes her way towards the office door. "Everyone is waiting in here for you Hank, if you want to get started," and she points to the large video board in the middle of the room facing the squad.
As the two men follow closely behind her, Hank leans forward, his voice barely audible to Olivia and hopefully, entirely inaudible to Elliot and says, "Remember that time you said you had a partner that used to work like that, you know, rough, outside the lines?" Hank nods his head to the left toward Elliot. "This him?"
She doesn't answer, just smiles, and as Hank makes his way towards the front of the room, she perches herself on the table at the very back, followed by Elliot.
As Hank is showing the squad the latest information on the case, Elliot leans in closer to her. She can feel his eyes burning into her, and as she turns to look at him, she can see that familiar glint and that very charming smile, the same one he had at the hospital, when he had the balls to ask her 'how many?' and then laugh to himself at her evasive response to her dating history.
"You used to talk about me," he smugly mutters under his breath as he leans back into the table, crossing his arms over his chest.
She takes a minute to observe the people around her, making sure the briefing is still in full flow before she leans back herself, closing the gap between them. "I wouldn't smile El. It wasn't good," she teasingly jabs back at him, mimicking his tone.
"Ohh," he laughs as he shakes his head. "I suppose I deserve that."
"And so much more." She smiles; she was half joking. She did want to have it all out with him, the big discussion, answer the big question he put before her of wanting to know everything he had missed from the last ten years, but for now, she was really enjoying this version of Elliot.
"You know, I'd ask you out for a drink after this, but I doubt you'd accept?" He's looking at her lips as he speaks and this is so typical of him.
"Captain Benson," Hank calls from the front of the room, and she almost hops immediately off the desk in an attempt to hide what wasn't going on in front of everyone.
"I am going into interrogation with Detective Rollins. You'll be outside?"
She notices they've gained the attentions of the others around them.
"We'll be watching," Olivia re-confirms as she watches him walk through into the interrogation room with Rollins.
"So what's his story?" Elliot inquires, as they walk and stop at the one way glass in her office.
"We've worked the odd case over the years. They've been here, we've been there, and we've been undercover once." She turns her face away and concentrates on observing the questioning happening through the glass.
There's silence for a few seconds and even though there looks to be some form of intense questioning happening on the other side, her concentration is on Elliot's slightly awkward movements.
She can feel him swaying, almost rocking backwards and forwards and from the corner of her eye, she notices he has his hands in his pockets. She's telling herself not to goad him, to let the moment that is causing whatever it is that's making him desperate to say or ask something to just pass by.
But, she can't, because she really has missed this. It reminds her of how they used to be. It reminds her of how he was when Porter was around and his complete inability to hide his protectiveness, hide his jealousy.
"What is it Elliot?" she asks and as she turns herself back towards him, slowly running her hand through her hair. She is surprised when she catches him watching her movements, following the flow of her hand threading loosely through the waves before her fingers twirl the end.
"You ok?" she asks with both curiosity and surprise, and as she narrows her eyes, he smirks in response.
"Yeah, sure," he's teasing her, pulling his attention away and pretending to fixate on the interrogation.
"Tell me." she can hear her own pitch heightening as she continues to probe him.
"I'm just wondering 'bout something," he says, not removing his eye line from Voight in the other room. His stance, his manner, his whole entire demeanour is so cocky right now, and she knows he's baiting her. Drawing her in, trying to make her bite.
"Ok," she flatlines, pretending to have zero interest. She knows he will break first; he always breaks first. Well, he always used to anyway.
He tilts his head to face her and drags his tooth over his lip. "Was he one of them?"
Olivia knows what he's asking, what he's referring to, but after so many years of radio silence, she can make him work for it.
Internally swallowing her smile, she looks at him. Poker face. "One of the units we've worked with over the years?"
He laughs, rubbing his neck. "One of you guys you were with. Was he one of the guys?"
She sighs, hesitating slightly, not because she wants him to keep guessing but because she doesn't know how to answer it. Hank hadn't been someone she'd dated, but at one point she would have considered it. She had enjoyed his company, they worked well together, there was something about him that was comforting, and until this moment, she hadn't drawn to the conclusion that maybe the thing she liked about him most was that his similarities reminded her of Elliot.
Detecting the Sergeant and Detective are about to wrap up, she gestures towards Elliot to meet them.
He mumbles under his breath as she leads the way. "Evasive, again."
Reaching her desk, she stands behind it, and as Rollins and Hank are chatting amongst themselves, she notices him thanking her.
"You guys are all done? He confessed?" she asks, amazed at the quick turn around.
"We did," Hank answers, and the self-satisfaction is laced in his words. "Full confession. No need to bounce the guy around."
Olivia laughs, pouting her lips at the memory of years back. "Well let's just say, I'm delighted I didn't have to threaten to arrest you. Again."
"Speaking of the past, you still owe me a tour of the city?" he reminds her, smiling.
Elliot clears his throat from behind them, walking over and patting Hank before gripping his hand around his shoulder and smiling. "I'm happy to show you around," he interrupts.
Olivia rolls her eyes, the strange things men do to show their masculinity, but Hank isn't as easy to shake off as Porter was all those years ago, and he gauges the situation. "I might just let Olivia get me that beer instead. It is her round."
Olivia gulps, aloud. Well she assumes she does because she heard it loud and clear in her head.
"Okay. As fun as this is." She points her hands down to the floor, why? Who knows what she's doing anymore. She just needs to quickly bypass this brief moment of hegemonic masculinity and they'll be fine. "I think we better call it a night. You have a flight to catch, Hank?"
"I do, unless you have time for one of those Manhattan cocktails?"
Elliot's head bobs up and down, raising his eyebrows, clearly pleased with himself in the belief that he's cracked a name from Olivia's dating history.
These men. Relentless.
"I should actually be going," Hank announces, smiling, checking his watch for the time and offering her a subtle wink as his gaze lifts again. "Thanks again, Captain Benson."
And as quick as Hank Voight arrived, he left.
"He might as well have asked you if you need a ride home," Elliot jokes and nostalgia don't escape her.
"Yeah?" she answers, lightly jabbing her elbow into his ribs as she walks out of her office. "You should have declined for me," she shouts behind her, the sarcasm difficult to miss.
Elliot smirks, rushing after her. "You really gotta get back or are you coming for that drink?"
"I think one beer sounds good."
