It seems like all they do is leave bruises on one another.
Bruised egos, bruised hearts, a bruised partnership, tainted by the thumbprints of longing and leaving. The imprints of loss and regret.
A decade apart. Their mutual silence, a deep purple welt, tender and sore, unyielding. The bruises left by others in their absence adds to their shared remorse and grief. Black and blue shades of a bond that was once impenetrable.
Neither are innocent in this battle. Elliot was the one to physically leave, but Olivia has thrown the proverbial gloves on, kept herself at arms length, refusing to let him in or move forward. On the surface, he's the asshole and she's the gracious one, however, some bruises are beyond skin deep, invisible and aching, bone-weary. While her bruises are visible upon his return to her life, wounds based on rumors and hearsay and the plain truth of his abandonment, the marks she left on his soul are just as painful.
This had always been their dance– close to the edge until they were caged animals, gnawing and snarling at one another, then he would go home to Kathy and she would find a release- in a wine bottle, a hot shower, an orgasm.
Jenna was the last straw, but Sonya was the first. The beginning of the end, the implosion that finally brought them together after twelve years of wanting, wishing, waiting. Twelve years of "he's married" and "it's complicated" and a litany of other excuses that kept them safe from their inevitable demise. Stemming from pain- the grip of the job, the case, the loss of human life— Their need for each other finally transcended reason and responsibility, and the explosion was everything they had anticipated and more.
It was everything, but then it was over. He wanted it all; she ran. He gave her hopes and dreams that she felt she had no right to have because she broke her only rule and slept with her married partner. He would have changed his life for her, confessing that she was the true love of his life and had been since the day they met. He promised her the world, and that scared the hell out of her.
She broke his heart and broke it off the day before Jenna's file hit their desks. Days later, staring at each other across the chaotic squad room, they knew.
Knew they had bruised each other beyond repair. Knew that their intense love was an inferno igniting everything around them to the ground. They had always been too close.
They had one last night together. No detonation- this time was a slow, passionate goodbye, and they both knew it without giving it a voice. Elliot was hurting, the agony of the shooting permeating every thrust of his hips, both of their cries muffled and heartbreaking as the finality of their release, and their relationship, washed over them.
They barely spoke afterwards, simply held each other for a while, tearful and pleading, until finally succumbing to exhaustion.
When she woke up, he was gone.
Elliot ran, back to his wife and family, back to a life of comfort and stability.
Or so she thought.