Summary: Elliot admits his love for Olivia to Tia. How did that go?

AN: I was nominated to draft Elliot's drunken confession of love. I hope this checks all the boxes.

No beta.

I have no idea if there are schools that are connected with colleges in Colorado, but you can't tell me that Eli's older than 15 or actually in college. Also, I looked up images of Tia but I couldn't tell what color her eyes were, so don't try to correct that. They are not Olivia's eyes and that's all that matters.

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"Elliot are you going to let me in?"

He has no clue, but he has less than five seconds to figure it out before this gets really weird. He inhales deeply, pulls his phone from his ear and hangs up the call, then opens the door to her.

"Elliot," Tia says with a happy smile on her face as she steps through the threshold, "you had me worried for a moment there."

His eyes follow her back to the kitchen, "Tia–"

She cuts him off, "Do you have any of that grappa I sent you?"

"Uh, yea…" Elliot closes the door and flips the lock before he makes his way to the kitchen where she is already perched on a stool at his table. He has to think back to several months before to figure out where the grappa might be.

Tia had sent him a gift box of his favorite Italian items when she'd learned that he wasn't returning to Italy. He smiled as he looked through the box, missing Italy, but then quickly closed it and put it aside when he saw a small slip of paper with her handwriting "Just a few things to remember me by. - Tia" The note hit him in the gut. He'd been in the U.S., with his wife was dead and buried, for approximately six months and he couldn't handle any thoughts of Tia. When he went looking for the box later his mother told him that she'd put the items in the pantry and tossed the box (and apparently the note, too).

"I think it might be…maybe…" he mumbles aloud as he digs through the low cabinets holding all his liquor. "Here."

His knees crack as he stands from his squat position and turns to place the bottles on the table.

"Not as spry as you used to be, huh?"

"What? Oh, uh, no," he answers her dully, digging for a bottle opener, "I'm definitely not as spry as I was a few years ago." He finishes with a short, perfunctory chuckle.

"I think you still have it," she answers with a smile and twinkle to her eye.

He knows what's going on here. Tia has made hints to him throughout this case, and not five minutes ago she explicitly told him that he was the reason that she wanted to stay in the U.S. longer. And when they worked together in Italy, despite being friends with Kathy, she'd make advances, some more overt than others. Now, he stands alone with her in his apartment as a single man with alcohol and case-ending adrenaline pumping in his veins, and she is here, for him.

He should have never opened the door. He's off kilter and anxious, his head is already mildly fuzzy. He's not sure how to do this, to politely reject a woman's advances without his wedding band as a shield. The last time he found himself in this position he was Eddie and he drugged the woman, then a few days later he slept with her. He did not plan on history repeating itself, either way, tonight.

Elliot opens a bottle of grappa before grabbing two glasses from the cupboard and pouring them each a drink.

"Here," he says, handing her a glass from across the table and lifting his own, "Cheers. To another case solved."

Smiling, she counters, "To us," as she clinks her glass to his.

Elliot mutters a soft "to us," as he drinks, finishing his glass in one go. He knew that his choice to drink heavily would not likely work in his favor, especially since he'd already had two glasses of whiskey before Tia called.

But he couldn't stop himself now.

All night he'd been thinking of Kathy…and Olivia. He missed Kathy and their life. There was a sense of peace and certainty that they had been able to reach in their nearly forty years together. They had their ups and downs, but the day he said, "I do," even at 17 years old, he made a commitment to be her husband. And he took that seriously. He may not have been the best husband or father, but he was her husband, and was going to be that for his entire life.

Then several things happened over the course of their life that challenged their vows and commitment to each other. The most challenging thing, however, was Olivia. She walked into his life, their life really, after nearly 15 years together and put him on edge, put their marriage on edge. Olivia became more than his work partner and friend, she became his confidant and partner for a significant part of his life. She became a glaring third wheel to his marriage for the better part of twelve years. Then, he left the country, which left giant hole in his heart.

He'd been thinking of Olivia a lot lately and with each passing week, his guilt weighs less on his heart but doubt, in himself and in the remaining dregs of their friendship, fills that gap. Speaking to his priest had helped with his shame, but the fact that Olivia hadn't been speaking to him lately left him confused, which allowed doubt to slowly creep in and eat away at his confidence.

"So, Elliot," Tia starts in a soft but suggestive voice, as she stands from her stool and slides into a stool on the opposite side of the table, across from where he is leaning against the counter. "What do you do after finishing a case?"

He can read her tone and her body language, she's pushing for more quickly. It's probably because she's leaving soon, and this is her last chance. "Me? I uh…It depends I guess."

"What does it depend on?"

He pours another serving, a heavy pour, of grappa and drinks half before answering. "The case…my colleagues, sometimes we celebrate together…and my kids. I like to see them after a case, especially if it's been going on for a long time."

Tia can sense his nerves, sees the sweat beading on his head, and decides to slow her advances, let him calm down and relax with her. She scoots back farther into her seat and leans her body away from him before changing the topic in an attempt to disarm him.

"When was the last time you saw Eli? You said he was in college now? That doesn't seem right. I feel like the last time I saw him he was just learning to read."

Elliot exhaled, happy to discuss his children, they were a safe topic. "Something like that. It's a special preparatory program that's affiliated with a university in Colorado. Honestly, I don't understand it, but the school counselor here recommended it and he really wanted to go. So, there you go." Elliot shrugged and took another drink. He knows he needs to slow down, his body is starting to feel warm and loose, and he can sense the fuzziness taking over his brain. "I think he just wanted a change of scenery?"

"New York City wasn't enough change for him?"

"Ah, well, Eli had a rough year last year," Elliot tries to explain without oversharing or re-living the terror of last Christmas. "New York being the place his mother died, and the place he grieved her, it was just a lot for him."

"And for you? You've also suffered a lot of loss here. Do you want a change of scenery?"

Elliot shakes his head and offers a sad smile. "New York is my home. I don't want to be anywhere else."

Tia takes a sip of her grappa. "Do you mind if I?" she asks as she points towards the bathroom.

"No, no, go ahead," Elliot answers.

"I didn't mean to disrupt your evening, so please, get comfortable," she says sweetly as she stands, pats his chest with an open palm, and walks to the bathroom.

The bathroom door closes and Elliot rushes to his record player and turns off the music, replaces his photo frame, takes two large swigs from his whisky before he caps the bottle and places it back in the cupboard. He's not sure why he feels the need to clean up, but for some reason he doesn't want Tia to inquire into what he was doing before she arrived. He'd been working up his nerve to call Olivia, or at least text her. He missed her and desperately wanted to hear from her. And for some reason that he can't explain to himself, he wants to keep Tia as completely separate from Olivia as he can.

The bathroom door opens before he has a chance to go back to the living room and take a seat.

"You never were good at following instructions," Tia says as grabs her glass and stands in front of him, placing one hand on his bicep, squeezing the muscles she finds there gently.

Her hand is warm against his skin as her fingers had slid under his short sleeve. It's not the first time that she's ever touched him. But context was everything and this was not a partner-ly touch. "Tia, I don't think-"

"No Elliot," she covers his mouth with two fingers, "I just want to drink with my partner before I have to return to Italy, okay?"

Fingers still on his lips he nods, his head moves slowly, unsure of what else to do.

"Good," she nods and lowers her hand and heads to the living room. "Now grab the bottle and let's sit on the couch, these stools are not comfortable."

Shaking his head, he chugs his glass, pours one more, and follows Tia to the living room. He collapses on the couch next to her, his head hitting the head rest before he exhales roughly.

"Are you alright?"

"Hmmm, yea." He answers, but his eyes are closed, and his body feels heavy against the cushions. The mix of whisky and grappa in his system is not a good one. He regrets not eating a real dinner earlier.

"What were you doing before I got here?"

Of course, that's the first thing that she asks. "Nothing, drinking and listening to music…thinking," he lets slip that last bit.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Eh, nothing good," he says with a wave of his hand before it slaps back down on his thigh.

Taking this as her first real opening, Tia turns her body to face him and reaches for him. "Do you want something good to think about?"

His eyes are still closed but he can feel her body moving next to his, she's moved closer and is invading his space. He feels her hand gently cup his jaw and turn his head to face her.

"Elliot."

"Hmmm?" he hums with his eyes still closed, wishing he knew how to go back in time and not answer the door, not be here, on his couch, with Tia.

Her face is close to his now and she whispers, "Open your eyes."

He listens, slowly lifting his lids and meeting her bluish-green eyes. They are the wrong shade, he thinks. Tia's eyes are not a deep and warm brown. They are sharper than Olivia's eyes, not as welcoming.

Her voice soft, and barely audible tells him, "Elliot, I'm going to kiss you now."

It takes a second for her words to sink in through his fog, but they do, and he moves as quickly as he can, his eyes widen immediately, and he scrambles out of her embrace, practically falling over the table in his struggle to get off the couch.

"Elliot?"

He wipes his face with his hands and mutters the first thing that comes to mind, "I…uh…bathroom," and he rushes off.

Fuck! What the hell was that? Elliot mentally slams himself, though even in his own head his thoughts are slurred and slow. He looks in the mirror and can see how flushed he is. He takes the time to relieve himself then splashes cool water on his face and drinks a couple of handfuls of water from his sink in an attempt to sober up. He needs to handle this, handle her, and he needs to have his wits about him to do it.

When he opens the bathroom door Tia is back in the kitchen, opening the second bottle of grappa and pouring some into their glasses. She hands him his glass when he approaches the table.

"Tia-" he tries again. But once again she cuts him off.

She's in his space once more, her hand on his chest. "Elliot, when was the last time you loved a woman?"

He doesn't answer. He doesn't move. Her question has more than one meaning and countless answers. He still loves his wife, like he has for nearly forty years; he loves Olivia, like he has for over twenty years. But physically, he hasn't been with a woman for around a year. Though what he and Flutura had was not love.

"It's okay to want me. You are a single man now," she says softly, her fingers drawing small patterns over his pec and she steps even closer to him. He can feel her body heat through his t-shirt and takes a deep breath to stop his body from responding, a natural response to a woman in his space with is normal defenses impaired by his drinking. "This is not wrong."

He covers her hand with his own, trapping it against his chest. His eyes, intoxicated but serious, meet hers, and he says clearly, "This is wrong."

"No Elliot," she argues, her other hand on his neck now, "what we have, what we could have tonight is not wrong. It would be special. I know you've thought about it before."

Elliot pulls her hands away, holding them down and away from his body and he shakes his head. "I can't, we can't…"

Tia leans in closer, whispering in his ear. "Yes, we can. And it would be great." She places a small kiss on his cheek and then another on his jaw.

He drops her hands and tries to take a step back but is trapped by the counter and is forced to move sideways. "No Tia, I-"

She follows him, pleading softly, trying to calm what she believes is his internal turmoil. "Elliot, I know you loved your wife. But it's natural to move on, to still live. It is what she'd want."

He shakes his head again and makes his way to the other side of the table, putting more space between them. His thoughts, other than getting her to stop, are rushed and fuzzy. He can't seem to find the right words to explain. "It's not that, it…I have already…I can't…"

"You have already?" Tia asks, making sure she understands what he's admitting. "If you've been with other women already, then what is the problem, why can't we?"

He wipes over his face again, reaches for his grappa and chugs only to realize that it's not what he needs to be drinking right now. He wants water but she's between him and the sink and the fridge.

"We can't…I can't…I…I"

"You what Elliot? What is it? Do you not want me?"

His heart is pounding. He's frustrated and overwhelmed. He doesn't know what to do at this moment and he can't think straight, all of his thoughts have gone to Olivia. Where is she right now? Why hasn't she returned my messages? Why won't she go to lunch with me? Why doesn't she love me? The room is unsteady. No, he is unsteady. Sweat beads down his neck and back as he grips the table top to ground himself.

"Elliot, talk to me. What is going on?"

"I can't…I can't do this…you…I love her."

Tia circles the table, but still keeps some distance between them. "I know you loved Kathy. But enough time has passed, it's okay to move on. It's not wrong–"

This time it's Elliot who interrupts, frustrated at Tia's continued use of Kathy's name in his house. And frustrated because she doesn't get it. She doesn't know that she's wrong. It's not Kathy that's holding him back now.

"No!" he shouts in frustration, his hand hitting the table, causing Tia to take a step back. He inhales and then continues more quietly. "Not Kathy…I mean, yes Kathy," he tries to correct, he can't seem to get it right in his head. "I loved…love Kathy. But she's not why…" he trails off.

"Then why? What…who is holding you back from me?" She tries stepping towards him again, raising her hand to his arm once more.

"Olivia." He finally answers. "I can't because of her, Olivia." her name clear and soft falling from his lips with a smile the second time he says it.

Taken aback by hearing this new name, Tia steps back and drops her outstretched hand. She can see the peace in his eyes when he says her name, Olivia. "Who is Olivia?"

He shakes his head again, "She's…she's…Olivia is everything."

Upset at the turn of events this evening Tia counters, "Then, where is she? Why is Olivia not here, comforting you right now? Celebrating your win?" Elliot never mentioned another woman in his life. There are no signs of another woman in his apartment. This woman cannot be that important if he's never mentioned her and if she's not here with him now.

"It's not like that…she's…"

"Does she even know that you love her?"

"She does, I mean…I've told her before…I think she knows…"

Tia sinks back down into a stool, defeated and disappointed, and takes a large swig of grappa and pours some more. Tonight is not going how she wanted it to go. She wasn't dumb and didn't have expectations of a grand, long-lived love affair with Elliot. But she'd felt their undeniable chemistry for years. Every time they worked together, electricity buzzed between them. She knew that he was a loyal man, however, he'd never stray from his wife. No matter how much she'd tease or push.

Now though, he was a single man and free to make his choices. When she saw him that day on the street it felt as if no time had passed. They immediately fell back into step, cozy and easy. Their banter returned as did her desire to have him. She had to return to Italy in just a few days and she knew that he would not return with her. She thought this was her chance, her window of opportunity, to have him. She came tonight with a plan. Relax over wine, have him loose and comfortable with their closeness, and quickly move in for what she wanted.

She sensed his hesitation immediately. She thought he had reservations about betraying his deceased wife. That he was having a hard time thinking of another woman, that he had guilt over physically desiring someone new. She couldn't believe how wrong she was. Elliot had already moved on and fell in love with another woman. She was too late. Tia just didn't know that she wasn't a couple months too late, rather a couple decades too late.

"Who is she?"

"My partner," is all he says, lost in his thoughts, presumably about her.

Tia thinks back to the people she met at OCCB, realizing quickly that there were only two women and Bell was not his partner, but his superior. "You mean that young woman, the one on the computer?"

Elliot pulls a disgusted face at the thought. "Oh God no! That's Jet. She's like twelve. Olivia was my partner before…before Italy."

The reality dawns on Tia. Elliot was a man who had been in love with two women when he lived in New York City. No wonder he left the country. And no wonder Kathy, as kindly as she treated Tia, was always a very close observer of their interactions.

"Oh Elliot…Elliot…Elliot," whispers in something like pity, compassion maybe. Tia takes a deep breath, letting her disappointment in the evening settle in her gut as she realizes that Elliot needs a friend now and she was not going to get what she wanted from him. She knows when she's lost a battle. "Come on, let's go back to the couch."

"Tia, I can't…" he fights her again, still thinking that she's going to push him for sex.

"No, no, I'm not going to try to kiss you again," she tells him with a soft grin.

He snorts and returns her smile. "Okay then," he nods and grabs his glass before heading to the couch.

Tia grabs the second bottle, knowing she's going to need more to drink if she's going to make it through tonight consoling her friend's conscience and heart. And Elliot, despite his current level of intoxication, is going to need to drink more before he divulges everything to her. They were in for a long night.