Hello all! Sorry for the wait; I hit a bit of writer's block. This chapter is kind of short, but I hope you all enjoy. I promise this isn't the end of the conversation about Olivia's marriage, or about her childhood. I also promise this isn't going to be a "Brian or Elliot?" story; Brian is really just useful to the plot right now. Alright, as always, leave your comments in a review. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 5 – The Morning After

When Olivia wakes up in the morning, the first thing she becomes aware of is how pleasantly warm she feels. She doesn't open her eyes immediately because she doesn't want to wake all the way up. She wants to stay in the nice little spot in the center of asleep and awake; where her headache is not much more than a dull, bearable pounding and where the sunlight can't hurt her eyes but instead falls over her in a blanket of warmth. She tries to float in that nice little middle area for as long as she can.

But eventually, her brain forces her to return her full consciousness, and she makes a small noise of protest as she opens her eyes. As soon as she does, the sunlight assaults her, and she becomes aware of the ache spreading throughout her body and the thudding in her head. The warm feeling leaves, and she feels something closer to sticky, and painfully aware of a weight draped across her belly. She blinks to focus her vision and looks down, making out what seems to be an arm. She jumps a little, her eyes running over the arm and the man it belongs to.

"Elliot?" she breathes. It's a question; almost like she can't believe she's woken up in a bed next to the soundly sleeping cop. She nudges his arm off of her and scoots away from him. What had she done last night? What had they done? She glances down at herself, then at Elliot. She's dressed in a t-shirt, she's guessing one of Elliot's, and as far as she can see, he's fully clothed. Despite this, panic still starts to creep up into her mind, and she taps his back, and when she receives no response, shakes him.

"Elliot," she says. "Elliot, wake up."

Elliot stirs slowly, grunting a little and rolling onto his back. He rubs his eyes, eventually opening one and looking at Olivia.

"Hm?" he says, barely awake. Olivia makes a sound of exasperation. At any other time, his grogginess might have been attractive, maybe even enticing, but not now, not when she couldn't remember how she had ended up in his bed.

"What happened last night?" she says. Her own voice startles her, and she raises her a hand to head, groaning softly. She was hungover. Which meant that she'd been drinking. This would explain the slight memory loss, but it didn't make much sense because she did not like to drink. "Why am I here?"

Elliot watches her cautiously, finally opening both eyes and sitting up.

"You need to take a shower, eat something," he says eventually. "You'll feel better."

"Elliot, what happened?" Olivia repeats, shaking her head. Becoming aware of their closeness, she moves back. She would get up, put some more distance between them but her muscles are aching, and her head feels like someone has it in a vice grip.

"Nothing bad," he assures. "What do you remember? I'll fill in what you can't." Olivia sighs, massaging her temples. She tries her hardest to think back to last night. She remembers…talking to Luke before her date. Her heart drops as she remembers her son, talking to her about his dad. She remembers calming down Grace before leaving. She starts talking out loud now because Elliot is still watching her warily.

"I remember meeting Brian," she says slowly. "He took me to a paint and sip, and I drank." She groans, dropping her head. She has never had a high tolerance for alcohol, and she knew that, but getting tipsy at a paint and sip sounded ridiculous, even to her.

"What else?" Elliot prods gently. She sighs, thinking.

"Dinner," she says as she remembers. "We went to dinner at this Italian place, and the waitress recognized me because…" Her voice flatters and she chooses not to finish the sentence. "I drank there too. And then I was drunk. It's blurry after that. Did he bring me here?"

"Yeah," Elliot says. "He just didn't want you to wake up at his place in the morning and panic."

"My kids," Olivia says, startled. She looks up at Elliot. "My kids are with a sitter, she was supposed to leave at 11."

"I called," Elliot assures her. Olivia lets out a breath. She's looking awfully depressed and so Elliot reaches out and slides his hand over her thigh. She jumps a little. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah," she says quietly. She shakes her head slightly. "So, what happened after Brian brought me here?"

"Not much. I gave you an aspirin, came back and helped you get in bed." Olivia raises her brows. This does not answer the question of why they're in bed together and so Elliot continues, his neck and the tips of his ears reddening. "You asked me to stay."

"Oh," Olivia says, exhaling. This is a bit embarrassing, but she doesn't feel much like being bashful right now, so she accepts the statement and decides not to look too much into it. Conveniently, she also decides to ignore the fact that she hadn't woken up in a fearful start for the first time in nearly two years this morning. If anything, that was probably due to the alcohol, not Elliot and his strong arm draped over her. She drops her head and closes her eyes again to block out the sunlight. "Thanks for that."

"Of course," Elliot says. There's moment of silence and he continues to watch Olivia. He needs to ask her about last night, about everything she said, but he wants to do it in a way that encourages her to open up, not shut down and shut him out. He begins to speak up, but Olivia exhales before starting to speak.

"I should get back to my place," she says, shaking her head slightly, trying to clear it. Unfortunately, this doesn't help much and only makes her headache worse. She groans slightly, and Elliot shakes his head. "I need to talk to my kids, call Brian and apologize…" Elliot's stomach flips at this last part, but he ignores it.

"Come on," he says, getting her to peek up at him. "Take a shower, eat some breakfast. Like I said, you'll feel better. I'll take you home afterward."

"I don't know," Olivia says, running a hand through her hair. "My kids have been home without me since last night, and Luke is probably so confused."

"Move quickly then," Elliot says. He nudges her leg before standing up, stretching and wrinkling his nose. "Come on. You definitely need the shower, at least, because you kind of smell like acrylic paint and red wine."

"Shut up," Olivia jokes back, tossing a pillow at Elliot and smiling a little. He chuckles and catches it. "You slept with me anyways."

"Well, I have low standards," Elliot says. Olivia laughs, shaking her head and smiling at him, before nodding a bit.

"I'll take the shower," she says. Elliot smiles.

"I'll bring you some clothes," he says. "And, I'll make you scrambled eggs. Which I now know how to make, without a recipe."

"Scrambled eggs, huh?" Olivia says, slowly climbing out of the bed, trying to ignore how shitty she feels. "Impressive."

"I know," Elliot says, smiling as he starts to head out. "Prepare to have your mind and your taste buds blown."

"Ah," Olivia says, chuckling softly. Elliot winks and exits.

•

To Elliot's credit, when Olivia comes out of the shower, she does feel much better. She walks into the kitchen, running a hand through her hair and smiling at Elliot, who is setting her plate down on the island. She sets her clothes from last night on a stool and sits in another, nodding to her plate.

"This looks promising," she says, flicking her eyes up at Elliot. "You aren't going to eat?"

"I'm not all that hungry," he says, leaning against the counter and smiling back at her. "But on today's menu, we have fruit, toast, and of course scrambled eggs."

"Right, of course," Olivia says, chuckling and picking up her fork. She takes a bite and nods her head. They aren't half bad, honestly. She likes her eggs with more salt and pepper, but to protect Elliot's feelings, she flashes him a smile.

"These are good," she says. Elliot smiles back at her.

"Yeah?" he asks. "Good, I'm glad you like them." Olivia continues to eat, not having realized how hungry she was. After a few minutes, she glances up to ask Elliot something but pauses as she notices him watching her.

"What?" she asks, smiling a little and tilting her head. Elliot blinks and coughs.

"What?" he asks, making Olivia chuckle before she pops a strawberry into her mouth.

"You're staring," she says, still grinning. Elliot blushes, his eyes going to the ground quickly. When he looks back up, Olivia has her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Sorry," he says, laughing nervously. In all honesty, for just a moment, he had been thinking of how absolutely gorgeous Olivia was. When she had woken him up that morning, he almost didn't want to wake up. He had nearly forgotten what it was like to wake up in a warm bed, the pillows smelling of a flowery perfume. When he had opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that even with last night's makeup smudged and his wrinkled, oversized t-shirt on, Olivia had been beautiful. And now, she was beautiful as she sat in front of him, devouring her food, her hair still damp, dressed in his sweats and her heels from last night. So, he'd gotten caught up in looking at her and thinking about how cute she was, and how hard that made it for him to think about her with Brian.

"Hm," Olivia says, smiling shyly into her plate. She pauses, remembering what she had been about to say. "I've got to call my babysitter."

"I called while you were in the shower," Elliot says. He turns to start cleaning the kitchen up. "The kids are still asleep, Amy said everything went fine last night, and she's okay staying until you can make it over there."

"Oh," Olivia says, sounding relieved. "Thank you for that. And for everything, really. Letting me crash over here, giving me this cool sweatshirt …" Elliot laughs.

"It's no problem," he says, filling the sink with warm water. He starts to wash the pan he had used earlier, trying to figure out how to bring up last night's conversation tactfully. "You were really out of it last night."

"God, I know," Olivia says, shaking her head as she takes a bite of her toast. "I really don't usually drink. I mean, you know that."

"Because of your mom, right?" Elliot says carefully, testing the waters. Olivia doesn't immediately respond, and he turns, wiping his soapy hands on a dishtowel. "Last night, you said something like that."

Olivia still doesn't respond immediately, and Elliot prepares to apologize, but eventually, she nods, pushing her remaining eggs around her plate.

"She was an alcoholic," she says, surprising Elliot with her openness. She looks up at him. "I didn't know if I had the gene or anything, so I just stayed away from it for the most part."

"Oh," Elliot says. He leans against the counter, maintaining eye contact with Olivia, who's beginning to look a little nervous.

"So, I was kind of talkative last night?" she asks. Elliot nods and she looks back down, shaking her head. "I mean, I was drunk, so I wouldn't take anything I said too seriously." Internally, she's beginning to panic, knowing that Jonathan and Luke had been on her mind last night. She hoped that she hadn't shared anything with Elliot. But the feeling in her stomach makes her feel like she had, and when he manages to catch her eyes, her gut feeling is confirmed.

"Olivia," he starts, his voice gentle. Olivia shakes her head, looking away and standing.

"No," she says, firmly. "Whatever I said, I didn't mean it. I was drunk, and I don't want to talk about it."

Elliot's lips press together in a flat line, and Olivia can tell he doesn't want to drop the subject. An urge to leave his apartment hits her and she grabs her dish from the island.

"Thank you for breakfast," she says. Elliot takes her plate and sticks it in the sink, and she turns to pick up her clothes. "I should really get going, though."

"Olivia, just wait a second," he says, following her into the living room. He grabs his keys from the foyer table. "I'll drive you."

"I'll get a cab," she says quickly, spotting her jacket and purse on the couch and going to grab them.

"Olivia," Elliot repeats, a little frustrated. "Olivia, you don't have to do that, hold on for just a second." He reaches out for her arm at this point, managing to catch her wrist. She jumps when he touches her, and her eyes widen as she snatches her arm away. Worry clouds Elliot's eyes and he holds up his hands.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry. Can you just talk to me for a second? Please."

Olivia takes a shaky breath, trying to get her heartbeat to slow. She hated that she had lost her composure. She looks at Elliot, at his steady blue eyes, full of concern. She nods.

"Okay," she says quietly. She holds her bag in front of her, lowering her arms from the protective position they'd moved into. "What?"

"You said…" Elliot tries, but his voice catches, and he has to clear his throat. His eyes stay on Olivia's. "You said Jonathan hit you. Is that true?"

Olivia tries to maintain eye contact, she really does. But her eyes start watering, and she has to look down to blink back the stinging tears.

"It doesn't matter," she says. And Elliot makes a low noise that she takes to be an expression of his exasperation.

"Olivia, of course it matters."

"Why?" she says, snatching her head back up to look at him. She feels her resolve dissolving as Jonathan's smile flashes in front of her eyes. The kiss on her forehead he'd given her before she left on that day burns into her skin. The bruise on her ribcage sings. "Why does it matter if he was awful, or if he was always angry, or if he hit me? He's dead, Elliot."

"I didn't know," Elliot says, shaking his head. Again, his fists clench at the thought of Jonathan hurting Olivia. Anger stirs in his stomach and he does his best to suppress it. "I didn't know you were going through that. I would have helped you. I would have protected you." This last part slips out, but it doesn't seem to matter. Olivia lets out a short laugh and sniffs, wiping at her eyes. She shakes her head.

"I appreciate that," she says, her voice quiet. "But he's gone now. So, it doesn't matter. And I don't want to talk about it."

"But you're not okay," Elliot insists. He's trying to reestablish eye contact, but Olivia's looking elsewhere. "Olivia when something like that happens, you have to talk about it. I mean, did you ever tell anyone?" Olivia looks back at him now, and he knows the answer is no.

"I don't want to talk about it," Olivia repeats, shaking her head. Her voice is starting to crack. "Okay, El? I don't want to talk about it." Elliot has to force himself to take a breath and he watches her watering brown eyes before nodding slightly, his jaw clenched.

He wants to pull her into his arms; standing and looking at her with tears in her eyes. She looks so small, swallowed in his sweats. He should have known. He should have been there to protect her like he said. That was on him. But standing there, looking at one of the best mothers he knew, the most beautiful person he'd ever seen, and one of his closest friends, he decided that he was never going to let anyone hurt her again. That would have to be enough for now, at least, until she trusted him enough to open up.

"Yeah," he says. "Okay. Come on, I'll drive you back."

•

The ride back to Olivia's apartment is quiet. Usually, Olivia would have done something to ease the tension; cracked some stupid joke, teased Elliot for his slow driving, anything to lighten the mood. But she felt drained, and so she let them sit in silence.

When Elliot stops outside her apartment she gives him a quick goodbye, not looking directly at him, before getting out and going inside. Like he had said, the kids were still asleep, and she checked in on them before apologizing profusely to Amy and paying her.

She makes herself a cup of coffee after Amy leaves, sitting at the kitchen table and looking around her light-filled kitchen. Last night was still a bit of a blur, but some of the details were becoming clearer. She remembered getting to Elliot's place, remembers him helping her out of her dress, and remembers asking him to stay. And he had, so she could remember the smell of his aftershave and the rising and falling of his chest.

They were getting closer. Slowly, but it was undeniable. It had been like that ever since Jonathan's passing, but especially in the last couple of weeks. Olivia didn't know what it was, but she wasn't sure that's something she wanted to happen. Elliot knew her too well, could read her like a book, knew when she was serious and when she was joking. He hadn't, of course, known about the most hidden parts of her marriage or about her childhood, but she worked hard to keep those a secret. But now, it was getting so that whenever she looked into those blue eyes she got an urge to bare her soul. That was frightening.

The last person that had known everything about her was her late husband. He had saved her from a bad place. Life with Serena Benson was more than a whirlwind, it was a hurricane. It was bottles being aimed at her head and hurtful words spit out of a drunken mouth and a constant sick feeling in her stomach. At 16, Olivia had hated her life. And so, when Jonathan Rhoades, a boy who came from money, who treated her so sweetly, had proposed to her, Olivia has seen him as her knight in shining armor, and she opened up to him and gave him every bit of her being; slowly of course, but eventually, Jonathan had held her entire soul in the palm of his hand. And then he had squeezed it, twisted it, picked at it. Just like her mother.

She was not going to make that mistake again with Elliot.

The phone rings, startling her. She stands and crosses the kitchen to pick it up. For some reason, her hands are shaking.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Olivia? I'm glad you made it home."

It's Brian. Olivia's stomach flips with guilt. Here she had been, mulling over Elliot, and her date from last night was calling to check in on her. Brian was different from Elliot. He was safer, less intense. And he was kind enough, funny enough. She hoped that she hadn't completely ruined her chances with him. The fact that he had called was a good sign.

"I did," Olivia says. "I'm so sorry, about last night. My tolerance for alcohol really isn't high at all."

"I saw," Brian says, a bit of tease in his voice. Olivia chuckles. "It's alright."

"I'm usually not such a terrible date," Olivia promises. Brian is silent, seeming to think about this for a second.

"You could make it up to me," he says. Olivia smiles slightly.

"Yeah? How's that?"

"Another date?" Brian asks tentatively. "There's a new movie out for Halloween. We could go next weekend. No wine involved."

"Sure," Olivia says. "Just let me know when you're sure of the date and time."

"Great," Brian says. He sounds happy. "I really am glad you made it home okay. Elliot treat you okay?"

"Of course," Olivia says. She turns her head as the sound of Grace's crying catches her attention. "I've got to go, alright?"

"I'll call you," Brian assures. Olivia's smile widens a little.

"Great."