CARS HISS BY MY WINDOW
RATED T
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything here you recognize.
The rainy streets smeared under her veil of tears. There was no way she'd ever go back to the precinct. He would be there, full of questions.
Olivia had no answers.
Night after night, she tossed and turned thinking about him, thinking about them. Elliot's words came like daggers.
"You asked Cragen for..."
Olivia pressed her hand to the window. She then let her forehead touch the glass, thinking its coolness would ease the knot forming around her brain. What was that poem?
After a great pain, a formal feeling comes...
She'd never really liked Emily Dickinson, but the next line was the clincher.
The nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs.
The dark apartment was her tomb. There was nothing here connecting her to any past or future. It contained jumbles of Pier One cast-offs and photos of her co-workers. Olivia kept a photo of Elliot beside her bed. He didn't know this. Something about having it there made things feel safe, somehow. Usually she could see it from her window seat, especially when it would catch the light from the passing cars. It was in a drawer now, tossed in among the socks and the underwear.
Olivia closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she got out of the chair and pulled her big suitcase out of the closet.
"You asked Cragen for a new partner? Fuck you! Fuck you! I gave you everything I had."
As she packed, Olivia could see his face red with fury. She could feel his spit settling on her nose and hear the door slam as Elliot stormed out. The whoosh of air felt cold against her skin. It felt like the end. It was totality.
It was time to go. Time to make a choice.
The streets were wet and steam was rising from the manholes. Elliot's house was almost dark, save for a soft light in the living room. She sat in front of it and gathered courage for the encounter.
A quiet knock didn't awake him so Olivia pounded hard, knocking little chips of paint off the door. Elliot appeared, looking tired, unshaved and maybe a little sad. They stared for a moment. He was in a purple t-shirt and pajama pants.
Elliot walked away, but left the door open. She took it as a cue and wandered in. The television flickered, its image bouncing off three empty beer bottles lined up solider-perfect on the coffee table. Elliot was in a wing chair. He didn't acknowledge when Olivia sat down on the couch.
They sat in perfect silence for almost an entire History Channel show about Gettysburg. When it was over, Elliot got up and disappeared into the dark kitchen. Bottles clinked and the unmistakeable sound of tops popping echoed through the structure. He shuffled back into the living room and silently handed Olivia a bottle. She took it, their fingertips brushing. Each recoiled at the slight contact. He sat back down and absently flipped through the channels.
"Leaving?"
She startled at his voice. "Yes," Olivia said softly. "I might go to Massachusetts or something for a week."
"Oh."
It was beginning to get hot in the small room. Elliot settled on a show and drained the rest of his beer. He probably expected her to say something about the drinking. OIivia didn't have the energy. It was nerve-wracking, waiting to say goodbye...or waiting for an absolution?
Her eyelids began to droop because the beer was kicking in.
"Did you come here to say goodbye?" he asked, shifting in the chair.
Olivia looked at her hands. "Yes...maybe."
"Guess I'll get my new partner Monday."
She didn't say anything. Sleep suddenly sounded so good. The past week had been exhausting and horrible. It couldn't get any stranger...but then it did.
Elliot choked out a sob. Her head snapped away from the TV and witnessed the man finally breaking down.
"I don't want a new partner," he managed to choke out. Olivia was stunned into an open-mouthed gape. He was rocking back and forth, slamming his fists into the arms of the chair.
It felt like slow motion, but she managed to unroot herself from the couch and approach him. Would he push her away? She boldly sat on his lap and pulled him into a hug.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered in her ear, over and over.
"I know," was all Olivia could say. Elliot held her tightly, his tears soaking her right shoulderThey stayed that was for almost a half-hour. Her exhaustion reached its peak. It took every ounce of strength to keep her head up.
Elliot noticed this and put his strong hands around her waist. He eased out of the chair and eased Olivia into his arms. He clicked the TV and carried her to the dark master bedroom, laying her limp form onto the bed. Elliot climbed in beside her, pulling her close.
"You don't know how much I..."
His whisper broke off. Olivia snuggled close to his body. Elliot laid there for awhile, just basking in the heat she created. Before long, they were both asleep.
There was no absolution that night. But there was hope, a tiny spark that had almost died between them. It burned brightly as they laid together. There were no perfect summer lawns or lazy weekends sipping lemonade in their future, but for now the sound of their breathing together and the cars hissing by the bedroom window would suffice.