Prompt #86: Starting 12 days before Christmas Eve, Liv receives small gifts without a note. At first, she thinks it's a stalker, but then toward the end, she realizes that it is Elliott.
My True Love Gave To Me
~oOo~
Tuesday, December 13, 2022
Her morning has been as hectic as always.
Cajoling Noah to sit at the table instead of bouncing off the walls, to eat more than two bites of toast before dashing out to the car. Leaving him at the kiss n' go, trying to get across town to the precinct before the morning traffic kicks into overdrive, fielding calls on Bluetooth the whole way there. A mental list runs constantly through her mind–Christmas shopping, drycleaning, new school bag…dentist! She can't let them get into the holiday period without Noah's checkup, or they'll have to wait until January.
She's so caught up in her own thoughts that at first, she doesn't even notice the wrapped box on her desk. In fact, she almost knocks it to the floor with her swinging purse before she sees it, and she grabs it before it can fall.
It's about the side of a tissue box, hard to the touch, and wrapped in dark green paper with gold reindeer dancing across it. A gift tag is affixed to the front, her name printed in bold font. When she lifts it, liquid sloshes inside.
What the hell?
She glances back into the bullpen, but apart from a few unis wrapping up the night shift, she is alone. The box wasn't here when she'd left the night before, so that means someone must have left it on her desk sometime in the night. She crosses back to the door. "Avery?"
Officer Avery turns to face her, and she holds up the gift. "Did you see who left this?"
He shakes his head. "No, sorry, Captain. Perez and I were out on calls most of the night. DD5s are on your desk, and that was there when I left them about an hour ago."
"Okay. Thanks. Go get some sleep."
He nods gratefully. "Will do, Cap."
She steps back into her office and examines the gift, a prickle of trepidation creeping down her spine. A mysterious package, seemingly hand-delivered to an NYPD Captain's desk is always cause for concern, even one gift wrapped this close to Christmas. She should call in assistance, she knows, at least wait for Fin or Velasco to show up, but…she's curious.
Taking a seat, she places the gift on her desk and slides her thumb under the tape. It springs up and the wrapping parts. Carefully, she spreads it open, and her brow creases in confusion at what she finds within.
Who the hell would gift her a carton of orange juice for Christmas?
~oOo~
She doesn't drink it. She's not that curious.
She sets it aside and gets on with her day, and it's not until hours later when Muncy sees it and asks, "Want me to put that in the fridge for you, Cap?" that she even remembers it's there.
"Oh. No, uh…" She shakes her head. "That's strange. It was wrapped up on my desk when I got in this morning."
"Wrapped up?"
"In Christmas paper."
"Oh." Muncy, too, looks bewildered. "Is it like a Secret Santa or something? A gag gift?"
Olivia shrugs. "If it is, I'm not in on the gag."
"Huh. Weird." Muncy holds the carton an inch from her face, examining it. She runs her thumb over the sealed lid, then looks back at Olivia. "Can I have it?"
A soft laugh. "Knock yourself out."
~oOo~
Wednesday, December 14, 2022
She catches a case before she even makes it into the precinct the following day. A woman found half-naked, shivering, and wandering down 3rd Avenue. Muncy and Velasco are both in court today, and Fin is heading back from a conference in Jersey. She turns around halfway down 57th Street and heads back the way she'd come.
It's not until hours later, after the victim has been admitted to Mercy and treated for hypothermia, after the rape kit has been collected and sent for processing and Olivia has taken the statement, that she makes it back to her office and is greeted by another carefully wrapped package. She stops in the doorway, letting out a long sigh and rubbing her mouth. She really doesn't need this today, to be honest.
Olivia, reads the tag, in the same bold print as yesterday. Same dark green wrapping paper with the reindeer. This gift is smaller, rectangular, and doesn't slosh when she picks it up.
She doesn't bother to ask if anyone saw who dropped it off. The bullpen is a zoo–the Unabomber could sneak in undetected. She simply rips off the paper to reveal an old, weathered copy of The Catcher in the Rye.
Okay…
It's a good book, sure. She used to have her own copy, even more battered than this one, before… before it got burned up on the stove, and she never bothered to replace it because after Lewis she didn't have the focus for a newspaper article, let alone a book. It was her mother's favorite, come to think of it.
Wondering if there's a clue inside, she flips open the front cover but is met with nothing but slightly yellowed pages. No inscription, no notes.
Perplexed, she sets it aside. First orange juice, now a second-hand copy of a classic book? Maybe it was some sort of Secret Santa thing… Had she signed up to something and just forgotten about it? Was her Secret Santa eagerly approaching their own desk every day, disappointed to find it empty of presents?
But no, surely she'd remember something like that. Her life was busy enough–she didn't make a habit of signing up for extra responsibilities. She hadn't even found time to do Noah's Christmas shopping yet–she was hoping to slip away for a few hours this weekend while he was ice skating with Amanda and the girls–let alone buying random gifts for a department exchange.
Later, when she is packing up her desk and switching off her lamp for the night, she hesitates, her hand hovering over the novel still on her desk. In the end, she shrugs and stuffs it into her purse. Noah will probably end up studying it in English soon–she may as well brush up.
That night, she loses herself in several chapters until she falls asleep with it face down on her chest.
~oOo~
Thursday, December 15, 2022
By the next morning, she is unsurprised to find the gift, wrapped in dancing reindeer paper, on her desk. This one is also rectangular but smaller, and when she rips off the paper she finds two bars of Hershey's Cookies n Cream.
Wow.
She hasn't eaten a Hershey's bar in…what? Ten years? More. They were her favorite for a while–whenever they stopped in at a bodega she was powerless to resist the lure of the white and brown wrapper. But eventually, she overdid it, and the taste turned bitter in her mouth, and she hadn't bought one ever since.
But enough time must have passed, or maybe they've changed the recipe, because she's surprised to find that it's even better than she remembers.
~oOo~
Friday, December 16, 2022
Friday she's testifying, and spends most of the day sequestered in the courthouse waiting room. By the time the defense counsel is finished badgering her, it's close to dark outside. Fin's been in touch–they're mercifully without cases, seemingly a miracle this close to the holidays when Christmas parties and excessive celebrations, unfortunately, make so many women easy targets–and she is closer to her apartment than the precinct but still…she hesitates.
Curiosity gnaws at her.
What might it be today?
In the end, a passing cab makes the call for her, and she's zooming back uptown a minute later. She swipes into the building, giving a quick nod to the officer stationed at the front desk, taking the elevator to their floor, and moving quickly through the bullpen. Fin is packing up–he's already sent the detectives home–and shoots her a questioning look when he sees her approach.
"Forgot something," she says simply, and slips into her office before he can ask.
It's there, the same green paper with reindeers, the same sticky label with her name. She tears into it, finding a slim cardboard gift box inside. Lifting the lid, she sees a swath of knitted emerald fabric.
She pulls it free. A scarf. Soft and thick and beautiful, undoubtedly handmade.
A memory tugs at the very back of her mind. She chases it, but it flits away like a hummingbird before she can grab on. It'll come to her later, she figures, when she's showering or making Noah's dinner or some other innocuous activity.
Instead, she sweeps the scarf around her neck, wrapping it tight. Fin is still in the bullpen when she steps out.
"Nice scarf."
"Did you happen to see…?"
There's a grin tugging at his lips, she swears, but his face straightens before she can be certain. "Didn't see nothing," he says, shoulders lifting and falling in his leather jacket, and Olivia can only stare after him as he slides his phone into his back pocket and wanders out.
~oOo~
Saturday, December 17, 2022
She finishes wrapping Noah's final gift and slides it and all the others to the back of her wardrobe, closing the door tight against prying eyes. She stands up too fast, swaying with a sudden headrush, and realizes that in the madness of battling the pre-Christmas crowds she'd forgotten to eat lunch.
She's making her way to the fridge when the intercom phone rings, and she deviates to lift it from the hook. "Yes?"
"Hello, Ms. Benson. Your son is back, they're heading up."
"Oh, great. Thanks, Gus." Looks like she just made it on the gifts. She snatches a banana from the bowl on the kitchen counter and is halfway through it when Amanda knocks on the door. Noah tears in, ruddy-cheeked from the cold, ice skates slung over his shoulder and voice giddy with excitement. Jesse and Billie hover behind their mother, each gnawing on an oversized gingerbread man.
"Get it all done?" Amanda asks in a hushed voice, and Olivia nods.
"Can't thank you enough."
Amanda waves it off. "Please. He was a huge help–if not for him I'd have had to get out there, and we all know how this Georgia girl does on the ice."
But Olivia is barely listening–her gaze has been caught by the parcel clutched in Amanda's hands. The parcel wrapped in dark green wrapping paper with gold reindeer dancing, her name printed on a sticky label. She lifts her eyes to her friend. "It's you?"
Amanda looks confused. "Huh?" Olivia indicates the gift. "Oh! This, sorry. Your doorman gave it to me, asked me to bring it up. He said it was dropped in while you were shopping but you were on the phone when you got home so he didn't want to interrupt."
"Oh. Right." She ignores the flutters in her tummy–the ones that started when she suspected Amanda might be her mystery gift-giver and while that was a lovely thought, she had really been starting to suspect that…well, anyway–and takes the gift. "Thank you."
"Who's it from?"
"Ah, I don't know." Her friend's brow furrows, and Olivia explains. "They've been showing up for a few days. Like a Secret Santa, I guess."
"Oh, cool. Didn't know you were into that."
I'm not, she almost says. I have no idea where they're coming from.
Amanda is eyeing the gift with blatant curiosity. "You gonna open it?"
Olivia is a little taken aback. So far she's opened each of the gifts in the privacy of her office, studied the contents alone, pondered their relevance. To do so in front of Amanda almost feels like stripping off her clothes in front of her…but she supposes that's silly. What's private about a book, a chocolate bar, a scarf?
So, she tears off the paper to reveal a candle in a small glass jar. She pulls the lid off and the scent of jasmine blooms into the air. Amanda leans forward and inhales. "Very nice."
"Yeah." Olivia is studying the jar, the label, for any clues. The candle is from the Natural Soy Company, the scent called Jasmine Joy, but apart from that there is nothing. Why a jasmine candle?
Why a green scarf? A copy of Catcher? Orange juice?
It's confusing, and she is still clutching a half-eaten banana and Jesse and Billie are starting to whine and she can hear Noah kicking the wall above his bed like he always does when he plays on his Switch even though she's asked him not to a thousand times, so she simply puts the candle down, thanks Amanda again and promises to have the girls soon in exchange and waves them all off.
Later, once dinner is done and Noah is asleep, she lights the candle, inhaling its beautiful fragrance. Jasmine has always been a favorite of hers. She used to have a perfume, long ago, but it ran out and she never bothered to replace it so the candle is nice.
Comforting.
~oOo~
Sunday, December 18, 2022
It's freezing cold so she takes Noah out for peppermint hot chocolates from the good Italian place on the corner, the one that does them with whipped cream and sprinkles and chocolate shavings until they are practically art. They sit in a corner booth, sweeping their spoons through the white peaks, and he tells her in excruciating detail the plot of the latest Five Kingdoms book he's reading.
She fiddles with the green scarf around her neck and smiles at her son.
When they get home, Gus is waiting with the gift.
Today, the dancing reindeers are wrapped around the pot of a small indoor plant with fat green leaves. Olivia has never owned a house plant in her life. She's always suspected she would not be very good at keeping them alive.
Despite extensive questioning, Gus cannot tell her who dropped it off. He was in the can both yesterday and today, he insists, and the present was waiting when he got back to his post.
But he won't quite meet her eyes as he says it.
~oOo~
Monday, December 19, 2022
Her seventh gift is another book–this one a battered book of love poetry. She doesn't recognize the book or the author, but the poems inside are beautiful. She finds herself closing the blinds of her office and reading them one after another, searching each one for clues as to the identity of her gift giver.
By the time Velasco knocks on her door with an update on their latest case, she's read the whole thing cover to cover twice, and is still none the wiser.
~oOo~
Tuesday, December 20, 2022
A box of herbal tea falls from the green wrapping paper.
She hasn't drunk tea in…sixteen years.
These gifts were growing stranger. Did her Secret Santa even know her? The gifts were all oddly personal… yet at the same time, each one felt like it was for a stranger.
~oOo~
Wednesday, December 21, 2022
By now she's come to expect the gift each morning. She's still curious as to the giver–she's even vaguely entertained the notion of setting up a camera to record before she leaves for the night, but can't quite bring herself to bother–but mostly she just enjoys revealing the random little items. Last night, after Noah went to bed, she actually brewed herself a cup of the herbal tea, and found she quite missed the taste. It's in her purse again today, in case she feels like more.
But this…there's no way this is for her.
A Dragonball-Z Nintendo Switch game. The new one that Noah has been asking for, that she trawled the stores for on the weekend, unable to find as everywhere was sold out. She'd resigned herself to letting him down on Sunday, promising it for his birthday instead.
She turns it over in her hands. The wrapping still bore her name, but there was no doubt that this was a gift for Noah. Interesting. She cracks the case open, and a note flutters out. She stoops to pick it up, sees the same bold print that's been on every gift so far.
You can say it's from you ?ￂﾠ
Well then.
If no identity is forthcoming…she supposes she will.
~oOo~
Thursday, December 22, 2022
The gift isn't wrapped today.
It's sitting in the middle of her desk, right on top of her day planner when she arrives in the morning. It's in a blue and silver box that she immediately recognizes from Bartoli's, her favorite bakery in Midtown. Inside is a single, utterly perfect cupcake. The scents of sugar and cinnamon waft from the box as she opens it. The creamy spiced butterscotch icing forms a perfect peak atop the cupcake, on which sits a miniature orange and green fondant carrot.
She thinks she's starting to get it, now.
~oOo~
Friday, December 23, 2022
When she opens today's gift and a little model of a shiny black Mustang falls out into her lap, she laughs out loud. Fin is just entering her office, and he looks at her questioningly. "Something funny?"
She keeps chuckling away, lifting the toy car up so he can see it. "Remember when I got arrested for murder?"
"Uh…yeah." He sounds wary. "Something funny about that?"
"Not really, just…" Another laugh bubbles out of her. She thinks it's mostly release. "That was crazy, huh?"
Fin narrows his eyes, clearly concerned. "Yeah. Crazy."
"Did I ever tell you El mortgaged his goddamn house to pay my bail?" From the way his eyebrows leap up, she's guessing she absolutely never told him. "Yeah. Mortgaged the house."
He presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, considering. "I mean…I'm not surprised. His wife ever wonder why?"
Olivia purses her lips, considering. "Don't know." That thought strikes her as funny, too, and she's not sure why. Another chuckle escapes her lips. "I never asked."
~oOo~
Saturday, December 24, 2022
She bangs hard on his door.
It's early–too early, really, but she's got other shit to do today and she'd woken up with the desperately pressing need to get this sorted, so she left Noah to have pancakes with Fin and Phoebe and hightailed it out to Long Island City–and when he finally wrenches the door open he is shirtless and so she doesn't even register his look of surprise.
"Liv. What are you—?"
She blinks to dispel the hypnotic power of his bare chest. "Is it you?" she asks. She doesn't wait for a response, pushing past his half-clad frame, skin still a little damp from his shower, into his ridiculous warehouse loft. When his mother and son moved out, the place had turned into something from the Museum of Bachelor Life, with dirty plates piled in the sink and beer bottles littering the counter, so she does a double take when she finds herself standing in his clean and tidy living room. "Get a cleaner?"
"Uh, no. Just figured I had to take care of the place. No one else will, right?" He's followed her through, his voice a deep rumble behind her, and Olivia strides further into his space with the simple intention of putting distance between them. The air is heavy with the scent of pine and she's shocked to see a real Christmas tree in the corner, adorned with a delightful mishmash of ornaments and tinsel. Outside the courtyard is glowing with early morning light, and she can see that he's planted actual fruit trees and ornamentals out there, though his weight bench still holds pride of place. "It's good to see you, Liv."
"It's you, right?" She whirls on him. "The gifts." He opens his mouth but nothing comes out, and at the same moment her gaze lands on something on his kitchen island–the twelfth gift, wrapped in the trademark green paper with the dancing reindeer, ready to go. "I knew it."
Elliot lifts a hand, scratching idly at his cheek to hide his smirk. "Yeah, okay. It's me."
She stills. She's not sure why but she hadn't expected him to admit it so easily, even caught red-handed with the next gift. "Why?" she asks, her voice plaintive, and his blue eyes find hers.
For a long moment, he holds her gaze. She can feel the physicality of it, as surely as if he were embracing her. He sags a little. "Liv…really? After eleven days, you don't get it?"
Olivia draws a slow breath through her nostrils. Mentally, she tries out and discards a dozen possible options, none of them satisfactory.
In the end, Elliot huffs out a sharp breath. "Twelve gifts, Liv. One for each year I walked by your side." He holds up a single finger. "Year one–the orange juice." Olivia blinks then, as the significance hits her. "That was the day I realized I valued your safety above all others. The day I realized…that I would protect you at all costs. Always. And I know I failed in that, but I'm begging you to let me try again." He adds a second finger. "Year two. You'd lost your mother. At the wake, you told me about how your strongest memories of her would always be tied to Catcher in the Rye–her favorite book. The one way you could always connect with her, no matter how many drinks she'd had." Tears begin to prick the backs of her eyes as he goes on, counting on his fingers. "Three–the year I discovered your obsession with Cookies n Cream. Every damn bodega we set foot in that year, you had to buy one, remember?" He grins, taking a slow step toward her. "You stashed your wrappers in the glove compartment. Said you'd empty them out at the precinct, not that you ever did. By the time you were done with the craze the damn compartment was full." Because she knew he'd take care of it, a voice murmurs from within. Like he took care of everything.
She swallows. They are mere steps apart now. "The scarf?"
He smiles. "You had that red one, remember? I used to steal it–it looked better on me." He goes on quickly, speaking over her protests. "You told me the store had it in green, too, and you went with red and regretted it, but by the time you went back the green was sold out." She did, too, she remembers now. Remembers like it was yesterday. "Store's out of business, unfortunately, so I did the next best thing."
"eBay?" she asks, a little tartly, and he grins.
"I asked my mama. She knitted you the green one." And Olivia's throat goes dry, at the trouble, the care, the love. Her hand flies to her throat, where the beautiful green scarf is currently knotted, and he watches with shining eyes.
She tracks back over the days. "The candle?"
He sighs. "Year five. Jesus, Liv. You'd started wearing this new perfume…it was intoxicating. We'd be sitting in the squad car and I…well." His eyes glint at her. "Let's just say it was more than the usual struggle. I wanted you, even then. My marriage was on the rocks…which takes us into year six." The pot plant, her mind supplies as he continues. "You bought me that horrible little plastic plant for my apartment, remember?"
"I didn't trust you not to kill a real one."
"Fair call. I support your choices." He grins, takes another step toward her. "Year seven."
Olivia thinks a moment. "The poetry?"
Elliot nods. "That shitty apartment building I lived in had a little tenant library in the lobby. It was basically a wooden box full of books, and you could take and leave as you saw fit. One day, that book was on top. It's been a particularly shitty day, so I grabbed it and took it upstairs. Read it cover to cover that night, as it turned out. And a lot of nights after."
"Why?" Olivia breathes quietly, and he gives her a sad smile.
"Because I was finally acknowledging that I was in love with you."
Part of her wants him to stop. Her hand twitches at her side, longs to be thrown up in the path of his words and his feelings, to stem the flow and dam the tide. But it stays put, and she does nothing but take a slow breath and ask, "And then?"
"The tea." He chuckles. "The tea's pretty self-explanatory. It's all you drank that year."
"I tried some," she admits. "It's not bad."
"Honestly? I did too. I thought it tasted like dishwater."
She snorts. They're so close now that the action draws the scent of his cologne into her nostrils, makes her knees go slightly weak. "The Switch game?"
Elliot shrugs. "Can't let you have all the fun, can I?" His blue eyes sparkle with mirth, but there's an underlying seriousness as well. "Liv…our ninth year. You gave me the most precious gift...you saved Eli. You saved my boy's life. Honestly…a Switch game for Noah is the least I could do."
She looks up at his face. "The cupcake?"
His lips curl into a grin. "Was it good?"
"Of course. That place is my favorite."
"Yeah, I know. Fin told me."
"Fin?" she echoes, surprised.
"I needed a little help, getting some of the gifts into your office." She thinks back to the day she'd stopped by the squad room late to collect her gift, the smirk on her sergeant's face. Of course, he'd known. "What you did for me that year, Liv…I'll never forget it. Kathleen will never forget it."
"It was your mother…" she demurs, but Elliot moves, taking hold of her hand and squeezing it to stem the flow of words.
"It was you."
Olivia hums. "The Mustang made me laugh."
"Yeah?" He grins down at her, his fingers still wrapped firmly around hers. "Good."
"I still can't believe you mortgaged your house for me. It was thirteen years ago and I can't believe it."
"Believe it. I'd do it again if I had anything to my name these days besides a lot of suits."
Her mouth falls open in mock horror. "Not the suits. You can't give up your suits."
With his free hand, he reaches behind himself to the kitchen island and grabs the twelfth gift. "I was planning on dropping this off this morning," he tells her. "Your doorman is a good guy, by the way. I think he's finally forgiven me for stumbling through your lobby in a drugged-out stupor." He hands her the gift. "Here you go. Year twelve."
The year he left...the fact hovers between them, and Olivia feels a pinch of trepidation as she looks down at the box in her hand. She's nervous to open this one, nervous about what that green wrapping paper will reveal…and what will happen to them afterward.
But she knows they can't go on like this. This limbo in which they're existing–friendly but not friends, in love but too scared to do anything about it–will send them mad in the end. He's taken the first steps–now it's her turn. Taking a breath, blood pounding in her ears, she tears off the green wrapping paper to reveal a jewelry box. Inside is a familiar-looking medallion on a delicate gold chain. Olivia presses her lips together as the sight of it makes tears spring to her eyes.
"Fin told me you wore it a while," Elliot says, his voice soft. "And that it ended up in…in evidence. This isn't the same one, obviously, but I thought…you know."
Olivia swallows the lump in her throat. She runs her thumb over the front of the medallion, the words–semper fi–engraved at the bottom.
Twelve years ago, he'd vanished and left her this tiny piece of himself. Two years later, even that was gone. Now both are back, and she sighs as a tear finally breaks free, tracking a slow journey down her left cheek. "El…"
"I've made mistakes, Liv. So many. But I want this to be a promise. No matter what happens, no matter what you decide…My heart will always be faithful to you." They're still standing so close, the breath that accompanies his words is stirring the hair around her face. With a shaky breath, Olivia looks up from the necklace, and his thumb gently wipes the tear from her face. "I promise."
Deep within her chest, the hardened wall she's built around her heart cracks. She gathers the chain in her fingers, lifts it from the box. "Help me put it on?"
His eyes soften and a smile arcs over his face. He takes it from her, the chain looking especially fine in his huge hands, and she unties the green scarf so he can fasten the chain behind her neck, the medallion resting just above her heart. He trails a finger down the chain, ghosts it over the medallion on the swell of her breast. Her skin rises in goosebumps in its wake.
Olivia lets out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Merry Christmas, El."
And finally, she closes the space between them, and his gentle reply of "Merry Christmas, Liv," is lost against her mouth as she presses her lips to his.
The author of this A Merry SVU Season story will be revealed in January