Hello! At long last, a TG update. Thank you all for your patience and I'll try to get the next chapter out a little faster :P In the meanwhile, thank you again so much to everyone who reads/reviews/tweets me their comments. This story turned two years old a few days ago and I honestly never EVER thought two years ago that I would still be writing this...but here I am. Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, I'll let you decide, but it's all due to the people who have encouraged me along the way. Because I seriously suck at long term projects, and I would've given up on this a long time ago if not for you all giving me gentle and not-so-gentle nudges to keep going. Like I said on my last anniversary- somehow, through writing this, I found my voice. And even more importantly, I've met people through this who I genuinely love and who mean the world to me. Okay, that's enough. Let's not get too emotional before the chapter even begins.
A/N: fairly tame save for a few references to the 'brunch scene', but it may be emotional for other reasons. Title and quotes from new york, new york by ryan adams.
This is all EO (and nick). Starting with the next chapter, things will start getting more bensidy-heavy and, uh, less happy. So let's all enjoy what we have while it lasts!
{had myself a lover who was finer than gold
but I've been broken up and busted up since}
At the very second that sleep is about to overtake you, Elliot starts to stir.
You had laid there beside him for minutes that felt like hours, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back as you stared into the darkness of your living room and thought about your impromptu confession. The relief and almost-pride you felt immediately afterward quickly turned into frustration and self scorn. 'Liv I won' hurt you, promise,' keeps echoing in your head, lodged somewhere in the deepest recesses of your brain where it can't be purged. So he obviously thinks about it, about what happened, enough to where it must be embedded in his mind just like it is in yours. Enough that it's at the forefront of his subconscious, that even when he's barely aware of your presence he still interprets your hesitation to get close to him as fear. And you thought that apologizing to him while he's asleep was the best you could do to make amends?
You try to rationalize. How many stories have you seen about people in a coma who could still hear and understand the people around them? Okay, so a lot of those people were in telenovelas. But it had to be based in fact, right? TV would never deceive you like that. So maybe you did the best possible thing for everyone- you got to say your piece without putting him on the spot for a difficult conversation.
Or maybe he has no clue what happened and he still thinks he r-
No. No.
«no one's coming for you. you lived alone and you'll die alone- isn't that some poetic shit?»
no.
«aw, don't worry. I wouldn't let that happen. you and me, we'll be together right 'til the very end. I'll be the last person who ever touches you. the last person who-»
It's right at that moment that Elliot starts moving. Startled, you shudder as a quiet whimper escapes from your mouth.
You freeze, thinking you've been caught, but then you hear him whispering 'sssh, s'okay' and feel him rubbing your shoulder. He assumes you're having another nightmare. You let out a mental sigh of relief and keep your eyes closed, waiting for him to decide you're all right and go back to sleep. But then...
His hand dips lower, down to where your sleeve has ridden up on your arm. His finger brushes over one of the burn scars that you'd kept hidden from him thus far, one that still has enough of a scab on it to mark it as a recent addition, and your heart is pounding so frantically that you're feeling dizzy even as you're still lying down.
"Liv...jesus. What the hell did you..."
There's no way he can't feel you shaking right now. A single tear slides down your face and you're certain you've been caught. Please, please, just leave me alone and go back to sleep, you beg him silently.
"I love you, know that?" he whispers, and you're confused because you can't tell from his voice whether he's talking to you or just musing to himself. "But I also know it pisses you off when I say it, so I've gotta get it out now while you're asleep."
You're so surprised your secret is safe that you almost blow it by letting your eyes fly open.
"Maybe you can hear it anyway, almost like a dream or something. Like TV characters whenever they're in a coma. Guess I'll know if I get a knee to the balls when you wake up, huh?"
Reassured that he thinks you're still sleeping, you feel your heart gradually stop racing and your muscles start to relax. Okay. Okay.
"I don't know what you did or why," he says, pulling your sleeve back down until your scars are covered again, "and I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna get it out of you anytime soon. Just like I know something happened, somethin' you're not telling me, and I'm guessing that's why, by the looks of it, you burned yourself. Probably while you were drunk. But I don't need to know, it's alright. Just wish you knew whatever it is you can't tell me about, whatever it is you're so ashamed of...doesn't matter to me. I don't care what it is. Wouldn't make me love you any less."
It's useless to even try holding back the tears at this point, so you let them fall and fight the urge to brush them away, thankful that he can't see your face from where he's lying behind you.
"I know I owe you an apology...uh. Lots of them. But you told me before you didn't wanna hear it so...I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ran off after- ah, after what happened when you guys came over for brunch. You needed someone to be there for you and I. Well, I wasn't there. For you, the kids, Kathy- anyone. I was a selfish dick focused on feeling sorry for myself. As usual. But I'm trying to do better now...trying to be a decent guy for my family, and that's cause of you. Because I promised you before that I would. If I hadn't promised you that, I'd probably be getting thrown out of another bar in South Jersey right now- but I didn't wanna let you, and the kids, down again."
You still wonder if Kathy told him about running into you in the hospital or about how she told you to stay away from him. Your guess is no, considering that he's back in the house and seems determined to stay there, and you're definitely not going to be the one to fill him in.
"Look at me- I think I've said more to you right now while you're asleep than I have in months." He chuckles to himself and then stops, and you can hear him scratching the stubble on his chin. "I didn't think I could ever forgive myself for...what happened in our garage. I still dunno if I can even though you told me to forget it and move on. But now that I'm here, and you- it surprised the hell out of me how much you trusted me with tonight. That you'd let me help you, that you'd talk to me about your mom and the hospital and dumbass...we hadn't talked like that in a long time. And it's like I told you, I know it's not easy for you to do, I know it takes a lot for you to trust someone enough to let 'em get that close. So for you to do that after all we've...fuck."
He swallows hard, loud enough for you to hear, and he inhales deeply like he's about to say something before he actually speaks.
"Thing is...I don't know if I can flat out stop feeling guilty and let it go. Not just yet. But I'm a hundred percent sure you trust me now and if you can do that, then I can..." Another inhale. "God I love you. I don't even think you know how much."
Now he's silent. You're trying to will yourself to stop crying, listening to the sound of his breathing until you reach the perfect moment when you're confident he's done talking, but still not fully asleep. Then you reach for the hand that's resting next to yours and give it a gentle squeeze.
He squeezes back.
{the world won't wait and I watched you shake
but honey I don't blame you
hell I still love you, new york}
You're awoken by the first beams of morning light shining on your face, their brightness letting you know you're not in your bedroom before you even open your eyes. You breathe in deeply and are surprised- but pleasantly so- when you recognize the scent flooding your nostrils. Elliot. So that explains this warm body enveloping yours.
He must hear the change in your breathing because he makes some sort of sleepy rumbling noise from low in his throat, shifting to allow a tiny bit greater distance between your bodies (at least, as much as he can considering the narrow couch space you're both occupying).
"I should move?" you half-ask, half-tell him, your eyes still closed so you can't see his reaction.
"Nah. Unless you want..." His voice drifts off, and you can't tell if he's asleep again or just mentally shifting gears in mid-sentence. "Nah. Stay."
"Stay?" you repeat, hoping you heard him correctly because not only are you reluctant to let him go, you're too lazy to trek all the way back to your room. If he told you to move, you'd likely just roll off the couch and curl up on the floor below.
He throws one arm over you and you're pretty sure he's not awake enough to realize how close his hand is to your ass. "If you can share a bed with Junior, you can stay here with me," he decides, and you don't need any more convincing than that.
{love don't play any games with me
anymore like she did before}
You swear he kissed the back of your head.
It's true, you were still in that drowsy semi-conscious state where you very easily could have been imagining things. But you're pretty sure you know what you felt. And you're pretty sure he knows you know. Right before that you had started to wiggle your fingers so that he would feel them moving from where his hand rested on top of yours, trying to send him a reminder of where he was and who he was with in case he'd forgotten since the last time he was awake.
He hadn't. "Well, will you look at this? Guess you decided to stay after all."
"I can leave if you want me to," you tease, craning your neck to try getting a look at him. When it doesn't work, he reaches for your shoulder and helps you shift around cautiously until you're face to face (or close to it, at least).
"No, no. This is...nice to wake up to."
"You sure? I should brush my teeth." You're not really breathing on him, not while your face is tucked against his neck, but you're still in that place where you haven't woken up next to him enough times to stop caring about such things.
"You're fine. I mean, if this is-"
"Mmm," you hum, cutting him off and resting one hand lightly on his chest to reassure him. "This. It feels really good."
"Yeah it does," he replies without hesitation.
You allow yourself to snuggle into him a little closer. It's an attempt to say everything you can't promise him aloud; an unspoken declaration of a trust that never wavered. The fact that he could easily overpower you (anytime, really, but especially in this position) doesn't escape your mind. It never does these days. There's a part of you that's always alert to your surroundings, always aware of potential threats- the part that you unsuccessfully tried to drink into silent submission. But right now it's quiet, and all you hear in your head is I don't even think you know how much. "Thank you, again. I mean...for last night. Thanks."
"Course," he says, and you hope he understands you're referring to all of it, to I don't need to know, it's alright and wouldn't make me love you any less and not just the part that occurred while you were both awake and interacting. "You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm...I'm still glad I did it. Glad we talked."
"Me too. You got a lot off your chest."
You can hear the pride in his voice, the same admiring tone he used to use when you took down a guy who had fifty pounds on you or reduced some cocky lowlife to tears, and the sound is addictive. Your cheeks turn a light pink, craving more as you shyly confess that "I told Brian the other day. About...uh, how it wasn't. How I did it on purpose."
Thank God he immediately knows what you mean, sparing you from having to say 'how I (thought I) beat a man to death'. "Really? And how'd it go?"
"Good," you say- or well, as good as a conversation like that could be. "He said...he kinda already knew. I mean, he'd guessed that- but he wasn't gonna say anything about it until I did. But he wasn't mad."
"See, I told you he wouldn't...that he'd understand. What made you finally decide to tell him?"
You're not going to go into your argument with Barba, into the whole sentencing mess or what you'd shared with Brian about Sealview. Not now, while the sun is shining down on you both and you're content and warm in a way that has nothing to do with the morning light. "Just thought it was...time for him to know, I guess. It felt like he deserved that much."
"Wow, that's...good for you, Liv. Proud of you." You tuck your chin against your chest, concealing how your mouth has turned up slightly at the corners. "But enough talk about dumbass."
"You should see the watch he got me," you say, and he retaliates by poking you in the side where you're ticklish. As you laugh and bat his hand away, you can't help noticing how he was deliberate in avoiding the still-tender spot a few inches above your hip, even though you know he couldn't see the raised strip of discolored skin underneath your shirt.
"Yeah, yeah, boyfriend of the year. Too bad he didn't actually show up for the ceremony, huh?"
"That wasn't his fault, you know that. Blame Tucker."
"He's not working for Tucker," Elliot scoffs.
"Now you sound like Nick. He thinks Bri's-"
"With the KGB? He might not be far off. The IA thing's a cover for...I dunno what, but he's not IA."
By now, you're at a point where you don't know what to believe. You don't think he's a Russian spy, but you're pretty sure Nick was partially right- there's more going on than you know. You've made the decision not to do any digging of your own because in this case, ignorance may be the only thing that allows you to sleep at night. Especially now that you're CO, you're not particularly concerned with your own safety at work, and all that worry you're not expending on yourself has been transferred to worrying about Brian. You have to picture him spending late nights at the office poring over incident reports even when you know for certain he's not there, because you can't let yourself start imagining the other possibilities. Even now, your palms are getting clammy at the thought, so you change the subject. "Since when do you and Nick get together to gossip about Brian, anyway?"
"Junior and I talk about a lot more than you know."
"Oh really? Such as...?"
"Man stuff. Don't worry your pretty little head about it." He laughs when you mumble 'asshole' under your breath. "I hope I'm not...I don't wanna step on your toes, but I thought maybe he could use a little advice when he came back to work after the shooting. Just as someone who's been there."
You raise your eyebrows but try to stay nonchalant. He still hasn't opened up to you a lot about the Jenna incident- maybe about as much as you've told him about what happened during your abduction- but you know that the little he's confided in you is the most he's ever told anyone besides his shrink. "What did you talk about? I mean, you don't have to tell me, but...as far as he goes. Anything I should keep an eye out for?"
"He'll be okay, long as he doesn't stuff it all down. I tried to convince him that- man, you've gotta find an outlet somewhere, because anger management won't do shit for you. Course, he won't go talk to anyone. Not havin' it."
"He mention his wife? Or any other...females in his life?"
"You mean Amanda?"
"He told you about Amanda?" you asked, abandoning your resolve not to ask for details.
"Well, he's definitely sleeping with her because he told me he doesn't talk about his personal life. So that's all I've got."
"Huh." In a way, you're glad Nick stayed tight lipped. You'd rather not talk about the 'Rollaro' situation with Elliot when it has so many uncomfortable parallels to your own lives. But on the other hand...you're only human and damn, you wanted the dirt.
"I'm not trying to piss you off by interfering- it's your squad, I respect that. But I know he can be a handful for you to deal with as CO and...I dunno. Just wanted him to hear what I wish someone would've told me back then."
You don't reply at first, waiting to see if he would elaborate on this. "Do you miss it? Being a cop."
"Nah, I did my time. It's not a job you're s'posed to do forever. Took a while, but now that I can look back and not just see the bad...it finally feels like that book is closed. You'll know what I mean someday," he says in a way that signals the end of this conversation. "But on the other hand...this partner I had for a while, she was alright. She's what I miss most about that place."
You're smiling again, only this time you don't try to hide it. "I'm sure Jo would be flattered to hear you say that."
He laughs and you can feel the vibration in his chest against your own. "Did you know she tried to make a move on me a couple times? Back when she and I were partners."
"I'm shocked," you deadpan.
"Seriously, though, I hope it's okay I talked to Junior. I made sure he knew you had nothing to do with it, so...it's your job, you can tell me to back off."
You bite your lip in amusement because on one hand- Elliot Stabler giving you permission to tell him to back off? That's certainly new. But then again, he did act first and ask permission later, so not everything has changed. "I'm not pissed. I think that's something where...he'll listen to you in a way he wouldn't if it was coming from me."
"Good," he says, and you wonder if he even notices how he's started idly threading his fingers through your hair. "You've got a lot on your plate now, being in charge, and I just wanted to help if I could...not that I doubt you. You'll be fine. I mean, I did teach you everything you know, so..."
"First Brian saying it was all because of him telling me to get my eyes checked, and now you- can't I get a little credit?"
"Y'know, I've still never seen you wearing your glasses," he says, still lightly massaging your scalp.
"There's a reason for that. They make me look old."
"Yeah, I don't believe it," he scoffs. "By the way, did I tell you how good you looked in uniform?"
"Hmm...I don't remember..."
"You looked good."
The two of you fall into a comfortable silence after your murmured thanks. It's not like you had ever forgotten, but until now you hadn't let yourself acknowledge how much you missed this. You tilt your neck back so you can finally be eye to eye with him. "I'm really glad we're friends again."
"Friends," he echoes as your lips meet ever so softly.
{farewell to the city and the love of my life
at least we left before we had to go}
It's not like anything actually happened.
You kissed and it was like the first time. Literally, it was almost exactly like the first time you kissed, except now you were horizontal. But there were no clashing tongues or wandering hands- it was sweet and simple and when you finally broke the kiss, you traded content smiles and then laid your head back down on his chest. You didn't have to talk about it because there really wasn't anything to say. Friends, right? No need for things to get complicated. And even though you're well aware that he's been half-hard against your leg ever since you woke up, and even though it wouldn't take much at all to 'accidentally' rock your pelvis into his, right now everything is too blissfully simple in all its calm intimacy. You're not going to do anything that might potentially destroy the moment and neither is he.
It didn't last forever, of course. The time came when he decided he had to get going if he wanted to make it home before Kathy and Eli got back from their overnight, and you bit the inside of your lip at hearing his wife's name, but he just gave you a peck on the forehead and promised you she'd never know.
He went into the bathroom to get changed and you set to work on getting the coffee started, searching the cabinets for a travel mug he could take with him. You're so engrossed in your daydreaming, a faraway smile on your face, that you don't even notice you're being watched until you reach for the machine.
"You're staring," you tell him, repeating what he had said to you last night.
"Can you blame me?" he asks, still looking you up and down unapologetically. "Nice sight to wake up to."
You hand over the tumbler, shaking your head. "There's your coffee. Now go."
"That's all the goodbye I get?"
You let him finish putting on his coat before you pull him into a hug. "Thank you. For everything."
"We should do this again soon." He raises his eyebrows as the words leave his mouth. "Uh- you know. Get together again. Maybe actually make it to dinner this time."
"Well...I still have my appointments with Dr. Lindstrom Tuesday afternoons. Maybe you could meet me there and we'll have a late lunch or something?"
"Still? That creepy guy? What happened to the new shrink?"
"I see her too. Thank God the department's footing the bill, right?" you joke. "So. You free?"
"Course. I'll be there."
Both of you pause for a moment, but the apprehension you were feeling last night when he was about to leave has disappeared. You hold onto him a little tighter before you pull away. "Bye..."
"Bye, Liv," he says as he leans in and kisses you again, his mouth lingering on the corner of yours.
{and love won't play any games with you
anymore if you don't want her to}
It takes a few minutes to pull yourself together after he leaves. But once you do, it's time to go investigating.
At first you and Elliot were both under the impression that Nick had never returned from where he went the night before. Neither of you heard him come in, and you couldn't believe that he'd be able to slip past without you noticing. But when Elliot says he wasn't the one who covered up the two of you with a spare blanket, and you know you weren't the one who did it, then you start to get suspicious.
You both tried to keep your voices quiet, just in case Nick really was lurking somewhere nearby. Not that you had anything to hide- you were both fully clothed and nothing was happening- but you knew that you couldn't exactly keep cuddling if he woke up. (As it was, you already know you're never going to hear the end of it).
So when you finally got up off the couch, the closed bedroom door confirmed to you that your sometimes-roomie had indeed come home. Part of you wanted Elliot to come barging in and surprise him, but you couldn't be positive that Nick would be dressed, and you weren't sure either of them would ever forgive you if Elliot got an accidental eyeful. Thus you decided to wait until he had left.
You turn the doorknob as gently as you can, even while asking yourself why- he's sleeping in your bed without permission! You have every right to disturb him!
And there he is, stripped down to his underwear and lying face down on your pillow, limbs spread out like a starfish in the middle of the mattress.
"Nick!"
He's unfazed at being woken up by someone shouting his name, and again you wonder what exactly goes on in the Amaro household. Reaching underneath himself, he relinquishes your pillow and plops it on the other side of the bed before rolling over to the far edge of the mattress. "It's early. Let's go back to sleep."
And with that, he's out again. You look at the clock (he's telling the truth, it's still early) and think about how right now you feel more relaxed than you have in a long while. So what the hell, right?
You pull back the covers and climb into bed.
{we better shake this old thing out the door
but I'll always be thinkin' of you
I'll always love you though, new york}