Chapter 22- Elliot

November 1st, 2006 / 2 Weeks Later

"You may have another chance."

"Oh, Dani change her mind?"

"No. Olivia's back"

Olivia's back. Cragen's words rang in his ears as he walked back to his desk. He hadn't seen her in the two weeks since he'd left her apartment. He didn't call her because he knew he'd only make it worse with his words, and she didn't call him, which he took as a sign that she'd probably determined he was enough of a screw up to cut out of her life for good. He hadn't been sleeping much; he was missing the familiarity of her apartment, of her bed, and the growing weight that he may never return there had left his eyelids wide, night after night.

Now she was back. He knew she was back in Manhattan, knew she was safe, knew that he'd likely lost her for good, but now she was back, back as his partner. He'd almost lost hope that her returning to work would happen

He didn't know how to speak the right words to her, he didn't know how to get her stubborn ears to hear him, he didn't know how to tell her that the delay on his papers had nothing to do with her and everything to do with losing his children, he didn't know how to be what he wanted to be for her, but he hoped with everything he had that he'd at least still know how to be her partner.

Later That Day

"Is it the color of my hair?" she'd asked the homeless man as she entered the interview room. His eyes shot up at the sound of her voice; it sent chills down his spine to be hearing it once more in the precinct walls. "Is it brown? Like that?" she'd asked as she touched her hair. He wanted to touch her hair again, run his fingers through the longer strands, lay with her and talk about why she let it grow. He wanted to talk about simple things with her, not all the hard stuff.

"You here to give me a hand?" he asked as he turned to face her. If anyone was watching in, it would be pretty obvious that this wasn't their first time seeing each other since her six-month absence. He knew they should be less transparent at work.

"Well, Cragen called me. After what you did last night, I've been assigned to be your handler," was all she said before she resumed the interview with the deaf man. He slipped into her line of questions, knowing that he couldn't have it out with her right now. He would work with her. His partner was back.

Café Gabrielle

"So why couldn't Dani cut it?" she asked as she fumbled with her cup. She'd ordered tea at the counter which threw him off. She was avoiding his eyes, and she hadn't spoken a word to him in the sedan on the drive over.

"Couldn't deal with the victims," he said as he thought about how Dani walked away from the troubled child. He knew that if Olivia had been there, she never would have given up on the little girl. He

"But you liked working with her," she said as she kept her eyes straight ahead. He knew that she was trying to gauge how he felt about her being back, and her bitterness over Dani was still strong. He'd told her that he viewed Dani as temporary, but in typical Olivia fashion she seemed to refuse to listen to what he'd already told her.

"She didn't have to handle me," he responded, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone. She gulped the tea from her cup. The pause was dragging on again, so he interrupted it by asking,

"How'd you like working alone?" All she'd told him was that she'd been in Oregon with environmentalists, but she hadn't bothered to give him any more information before their entire conversation devolved into a senseless argument.

"I didn't," she said in a low and fragile tone. He wanted to press her on it, perhaps open up the wounds they'd made two weeks ago, but before he got the chance, she pointed to a man across the coffee shop.

November 2nd, 2006

Dickie had gotten in a fight at school, and Elliot was pretending to not notice the desk jockey make a pass at his partner. Kathy's voice reprimanded him.

"This is because of you! He's acting out on what you show him! My attorney is going to love this" her voice screeched against his eardrum, and he wanted to close the phone and make sure Olivia was turning that guy down.

"Kathy, I'll talk to him alright."

"You better!" she said as she hung up.

"Everything okay?" Olivia asked as she came up behind him.

"Dickie got suspended for busting some kid's lip open."

"Oh, look at you, glowing with fatherly pride," she said. He forced a grin, but it jabbed him that she thought no better of him than his wife. "Just glad you and Kathy are still talking," she added, and it made him clench his teeth. She could be so damn evasive. He'd tried to tell her he loves her. He had climbed on top of her and kissed her and stood in her apartment begging her to open her damn eyes, and she tells him she's happy that he's still talking to his wife who he is trying to divorce? He wanted to take her by her upper arms and shake some sense into her, then the intrusive thought sent him into a spiral. He'd never touch her like that, despite what his wife seemed to think; he'd never harm a woman or a child. He hoped Olivia knew that. She has to know that. Her words from earlier in the case haunted him,

"You know, my partner has got a real anger management problem."

November 2nd, 2006 / That Evening

He pulled up to his house. He could see Lizzie sitting in the front room reading a book. She didn't even look up when she heard the car's motor pull into the driveway. It was his night to see the kids; it was the temporary arrangement they had agreed on until the lawyers settled on a final agreement. Kathy didn't want him to have any custody, and he'd decided to fight it. If the lawyers couldn't mediate an agreement between them soon, he knew they'd be taking it to court- the very thing he'd been trying to avoid since the day she told him that she was leaving. He saw that world every day, and the last thing he wanted was to subject his kids to it.

Dickie emerged from the front door and ran towards the car. He swung open the passenger seat, and Elliot couldn't help but notice the bruises he had on his knuckles.

"Where are you sisters?"

"They don't want to come tonight," Dickie shrugged as he closed the door.

"Well…They have to…" he said as he flicked his eyes to his disinterested daughter sitting in the formal living room. She wanted no part of him. Her mother had convinced her that he was nothing more than an angry bastard. Maybe he was.

"Can we go to Sal's?" Dickie asked, clearly unphased by how upset Elliot was about his sisters choosing not to come.

"Sure kid," he sighed as he backed out of his driveway.

"So what's the deal with you throwing punches at school?" Elliot asked as he took a mouthful of greasy pizza. Dickie was messing around on his phone and he felt like he might as well be eating pizza alone.

"Mom told you?" Dickie said as he dropped his phone and leaned his head against the seat. His hair was falling in his eyes, and Elliot thought he looked like a punk. Kathy needed to get him a haircut.

"Your fists told me," Elliot said as he nodded to where Dickie's wrist rested on the tabletop.

"Dude was a bully," Dickie shrugged.

"How so?"

"He called Sophie a slut," Dickie said as he licked his fingers. Elliot blinked twice; he'd just heard the word slut come out of his thirteen-year-old son's mouth.

"Who's Sophie?"

"My friend."

"Your friend?" he pressed as he stared at his son. He was so worried one of his daughters would show up pregnant that he'd totally forgotten that his son was approaching the age where he might start to have girlfriends.

"She's my lab partner in earth science," Dickie said as he avoided eye contact.

"Why would he say that about her?"

"Because she wouldn't kiss him! He's a real jack-hole, Dad," Dickie said. Elliot could tell that Dickie was obviously flexing his boundaries with him, trying to see if Elliot's need to buy allegiance in a divorce would cause him to let the curse word slip.

"Don't speak like that," Elliot snapped as he leaned across the table "And someone being a jack-hole doesn't give you the right to punch them."

"I thought you'd take my side! If someone said that to Maur or Katie or Liz, you'd want me to deck them," Dickie said, his eyes flaring with spite and valid points.

"What that kid said wasn't okay, but you can't go solving problems with your fists."

"So you wouldn't have done the same thing if someone had said that about Mom or…or Liv?" Dickie challenged. He was testing him. He knew his son was at the age where he had questions about what was happening with him, what was happening with his parent's marriage, but it hadn't occurred to him that his son had the awareness to throw Olivia into the conversation. He was on thin ice with Kathy, and he knew he needed to drill the lesson home, so he didn't have another strike against him when their mediation ended up in divorce court.

"Listen up, I have to hear the scum of the earth say things about Olivia every day, and sometimes I think about throwing a punch, but I know she wouldn't want me to do that because it wouldn't help any. Sometimes being a good friend requires that you don't make things about yourself," he said as he made direct eye contact with his son.

"So I'm supposed to just let him say those things, and nothing happens to him!?" Dickie said, and Elliot couldn't help but notice how much his son looked like him when he was young. He was the spitting image of him.

"Talk to Sophie instead; tell her that you know what he's saying isn't true," Elliot said, feeling like he was doing well with the good fatherly advice. He'd never had conversations like this with his own father. His father had been too busy pummeling his thirteen-year-old jawline. It felt almost nerve-wracking to talk to his own son. He didn't want to fail Dickie in the same way his father had failed him. He'd never lay a hand on his child, but he didn't want to teach his child to lay hands on others.

"You tell Olivia that?" Dickie asked, a soft smile climbing onto his face. He was getting older, hardly even a kid anymore. He was catching up to Lizzie in height.

"I do…" he swallowed, "I should more…" he confessed, trying to remain honest with his son.

"Sometimes I get so mad," Dickie said in a lower voice, his hand curling into a fist on the tabletop.

"I get that, you have to find a better way to channel it."

"How do you channel it?" his son asked, his eyes seeking guidance with the anger that seemed to plague their bloodline. I lay against Olivia.

"I…" he began, but when he realized he didn't have a good answer he tucked his top lip over his row of teeth. "Let's get going alright," he said as he left cash on the table and stood to leave.

As they were walking through the parking lot, Dickie was doing weird jumps and hand motions like he was fighting with the air.

"Watcha doing?" Elliot laughed as he watched his goofy pre-teen kid fighting shadows in the parking lot.

"I wanna try out for the martial arts club," Dickie said as he threw a fake punch in Elliot's direction.

"Hold your fist like this," Elliot said as he caught his son's hand and repositioned his fingers. Dickie looked up at him with a smirk on his smug features.

"So you really think I shouldn't have punched that jack-hole, or did you just yell at me because mom told you to?!" Dickie asked in a voice that reminded Elliot how young he still was.

"Mostly because your mom told me to," he chuckled as he ruffled his son's hair before wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

November 3rd, 2006

"Love's a bitch," she'd said as they approached the elevator.

"Tell me about it," he sighed as he thought about how rocky things had been between them since she'd returned. He couldn't even offer her a soda without it becoming about all that had changed between them. She'd made a comment about his jeans, saying he'd traded in his suits, and he couldn't help but feel like she was extending that to how she felt he'd traded her in for Dani. He thought about how he had six missed calls from his divorce attorney, warning him to not take Kathy's calls over the fight Dickie had been in- it wouldn't be good for his case.

"You know, we've been partners all these years. I don't even know your blood type."

"A-positive."

"How about that? Me too," she said with a quick glance to him as they stepped inside the elevator. They'd been at odds most of the case, and he wasn't sure how he should be speaking to her anymore, but he tried to channel the advice he'd given his son the night before. He needed her to know that even though it terrified him, there wasn't much he wouldn't do for her, if only she'd ask him for all the things he wished and wanted, to give her freely.

"I'd give you a kidney." He'd give her his time, he'd give her his mind, he'd give her his job, and he'd give his life in exchange for her life every time. There would never be a bargain, a shoot-out, or a negotiation where he wouldn't put her first. He'd die for his children, he'd die for the mother of his children, and he'd die for Olivia. Those were the three things he was still certain of in life. Love's a bitch.

"Not if I gave you mine first," she turned to him with a faint smile, as if the notion of having surgery to save him was as simple as picking up his coffee order. As the elevator door closed, he knew that when it came to Olivia and admissions, that was a pretty damn big one.

That Evening

"Elliot, glad I caught you, do you have a minute?" His attorney asked, he could tell from the man's tone of voice that he should sit down. He walked to his living room and sat on his couch.

"Shoot."

"I just got a call from Kathy's counsel. They won't budge on the custody stipulations in the original papers."

"What changed? After our last meeting it seemed like she was going to agree to Thursdays and every other weekend with the twenty percent custody," he said as he ran a hand down his face. The whole idea of splitting his children into percentages was a fate he never wanted to face. When he'd put on a hand-me-down tuxedo that his older brother wore at his wedding and fed Kathy discount vanilla wedding cake, he never planned to end up here. He'd gotten married in the first place because Thursday visitation would always leave him feeling like a failure. He'd put on a gold band at seventeen and tied himself to full time. Now everyone wanted him to give that up like it never was expected of him in the first place. He wanted to stand by his kids. He wanted to fight for his kids.

"Her attorney said the kids aren't doing well. Richard is getting in fights, Elizabeth is refusing the limited visitation, and your teenager has been volatile according to Kathy's counsel."

"The exact reasons why they need me around!"

"That's not what your wife thinks."

"So what are you telling me, Bill?" he groaned as he leaned forward over his knees. He heard his attorney take in a deep breath.

"Mediation isn't getting us where we want. I can take this to court, but I have to warn you, Elliot…"

"Warn me of what."

"I've been in this business for twenty years; the wife always wins."

"I will fight for my kids."

"And I'll swing for you if that's what you decide to do…." He heard the attorney sigh, he knew Bill was a good man, Casey had recommended him. He was known in the community for giving a fair shake. He'd tell his clients their odds before cleaning their pockets. "She's got a solid case against you. Between your job, the hours, your anger management, violence…"

"I've never been violent with my family!" he said in an immediately defensive tone, his words laced with barely subdued anger.

"I wasn't suggesting you had been. I'm only setting you up for how her team will make it sound. I don't mean to sound cynical but a guy like you is the perfect enemy in divorce court."

"I work with kids all the time who have no one! I see druggies and pimps, and pedophiles for parents and you're trying to tell me that I'm the enemy?!" he laughed darkly into the phone, his fingers clutching to the speakers.

"I'm not your enemy, Elliot, I'm on your side. If court is the way you want to go with this, I'll draw up the papers, I'm only warning you that it gets nasty and your wife doesn't seem above pulling out all the stops. Everything you've ever done will be put under a microscope."

"Kathy isn't like that," he said, his need to protect his wife still present.

"Divorce does ugly things to people."

"So you think I should sign away my rights."

"I think putting your kids through a divorce hearing will only make them more resentful. But it's your choice. Call me when you decide."

"Thanks Bill," he said as he clicked off the phone and let it fall from his hand.

Since the phone call he'd been sitting in the same spot for the past three or so hours, his mind racing and empty all at the same time. He was in pain: his mind, his body, his heart. He didn't know what to do with himself; he could hardly get himself to stand from the sofa. He knew he shouldn't be alone with his thoughts. He knew he'd grow destructive. His drywall looked tempting, and his knuckles were burning. Dammit. What was wrong with him? He was going to lose his kids for that very reason. He was pathetic, useless. He was useless to his kids, useless to his wife, useless to Olivia. His kids didn't want to see him, his wife didn't want him in their home, his partner didn't want him near her. Maybe he should go away? Maybe that would make life easier for everyone.

He was weak for even allowing himself to think about it. Selfish.

He needed to get his head together; he needed help making sense of it all. Olivia's words from over a year ago rang in his ears, when he'd hugged her in the doorway of his bathroom.

"If you're ever not, please tell me."

"Not what?"

"Okay."

He reached for his phone, where it laid on the ground, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he contemplated calling her. He didn't want to burden her with his problems, with his rage. But he needed her.

"Liv," he said when she picked up the call.

"It's late," she replied in a low tone, and he glanced at his clock, 9:49 p.m.

"Did I wake you?"

"No, couldn't sleep."

"Me either," he swallowed. "I…"

"Why are you calling?"

"You told me to tell you…if I ever…wasn't." he said as he balled his free fist. He could hear her sit up, the sounds of her sheets moving around her.

"El," she breathed, her voice instantly making his fist a little less tight.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, and she was silent. "Look, I know things are a mess, with us…" he sighed, but she cut him off.

"Never mind that; I'm here," her tone was firm, comforting, composed. She was his partner- his sturdy, grounding, understanding partner, and even though this wasn't the job, he knew he could go to her with the hard stuff.

"I probably shouldn't be alone," he admitted, feeling weak, feeling like all the things his father told him he was.

"I don't want you to be alone," she said.

"I miss your apartment," he confessed, his unspoken request lingering, can I come over? He felt like he was standing on the limb of a branch, waiting for her to catch him, or let him fall farther. Relief washed through him when she replied,

"Your key still works."