hi dee ho, long time, no write. you probably would like to know why:
reason 1- track season is underway and completely consuming all my time. you'd think horizontal jumpers wouldn't have three and a half hour practices, but hey, let's just do what the sprinters do. that sounds like FUN…(rolling of eyes implied)
reason 2- I discovered I am receiving mid to high nineties in everything but math, which is killing me because I have had trouble in that god damn class since I walked into kindergarten. since my teacher said that I have 'failed major tests' on my five weeks report, my parents are now in 'freak-out' mode and pretty much dictating my life around math. which is just GREAT (more rolling of the eyes) since I LOVE that class. (major sarcasm there) I'm not failing, but since seventies in my family pretty much means 'future college drop out and possible producer of crack babies' they are becoming uber-obsessed with my academics. they've also put a dampen on my social life (oh my god guys, ONE CLASS. ONE CLASS. I can ace all my other honors and AP classes, but NOOOOO they have to flip out about ONE FUCKING CLASS) which completely blows my mind since my parents were dating each other since their freshman year in high school and were in a band all during high school and college. Yeah guys, become MUSICIANS for your careers why don't you, and then tell your kids to NOT JOIN A BAND OR HAVE SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS. BECAUSE YOU WERE ONLY DOING IT ALL YOUR FREAKING TEENAGE/YOUNG ADULT YEARS.
(to be perfectly honest with you, I am not really angry at my parents. I have never been truly angry with them, because they have been really great about letting me spend a lot of time on my art and writing, since they know that is where my talents lie. they're professional musicians/instrumental teachers, but they stopped doing symphony gigs on the weekends to spend more time with my sister and I. family has always come first to them, and I honestly appreciate that and totally respect it. plus, I get to meet a lot of famous musicians through them, and get to see really great performances in the city, so I'm cool with it. okay, love-to-parents rant over.)
reason 3- I normally start getting a lot sicker during track because the workouts are so demanding, so I went and caught the stomach bug for a few days. and my immune system is non-existent, so I have been slugging my way through school and finally took a day off today. which means you can all get a new chapter.
so here it is. it's getting very exciting, and way fun to write. hopefully everyone is having fun reading too!
OH, AND HAPPY LATE SAINT PATRICK'S DAY TO ALL MY FELLOW IRISH (and other people too) FOLK! AND TO ALL THE FELLOW IRISH DANCERS, KICK A FREAKING FEIS' BUTT!
…
Halfway through his baked potato, Elliot realized something.
He was looking up, past the dishes laid out on a tablecloth he had not seen in six months. Past the hands reaching for a bowl of carrots, past the face of his daughter, laughing at something the guest had said. He looked up into this guest's face, glowing from the lights hanging overhead, eyes lit up and mouth spread in a wide smile, and saw the similar light in his children's eyes.
For the first time in almost a year, a family was sitting at this table.
"Our best season yet," Dickie was saying, spooning more carrots onto his plate. "We made the sectional record for most points in one game."
"Dickie was MVP," Lizzie added, nodding at her brother.
"You're kidding me!" Olivia started to laugh again, holding her hand out across the table. Dickie gave her an eager high five the same way he had that summer so many years before, his eyes shining with an identical light. Elliot smiled to himself and bent over his dinner again, dinner someone else had helped to prepare. "When you make the pro's you owe me tickets, kid."
"Yeah, right," He shook his head, but his cheeks were flushed red. "I'm probably going to pitch my arm out by college, and end up in boring old med school."
"Med school?" Olivia raised an eyebrow. "Do we have a future brain surgeon at our table?"
"I don't know…" Dickie shrugged, though his smile was still evident. "I really like science, and this year I was offered this thing…"
"What thing?" Elliot cut in, raising both his eyebrow. He hated not being there all the time, only being a part of a fraction of their days. What parent was meant to only hear the half the story?
Another part of my life erased from part of theirs.
"There's a summer program at NYU, where you intern at the university hospital and work with the staff. Mom says it's too expensive-"
"I'll pay for it." Elliot cut in, pointing his fork at his son. Dickie's eyes widened momentarily, and he frowned at his father with disbelief.
"You will?"
"Yeah, I will."
"Oh, uh…thanks." Dickie blinked. "Really?"
"Of course. My son isn't going to pass up a chance like this, right?"
"Right." Dickie's mouth widened into a smile, and he grinned at his father before turning back to his plate, still beaming.
Elliot glanced up at Olivia, who was staring at him in awe, her mouth half-formed into a sheepish grin. He smiled back, shrugging, and she laughed a bit.
It was all so right.
So perfect.
He could see them out on the patio: eating like this, smiling like this. He'd buy a new awning for the table and fix up the grill, and they'd all eat in the late afternoon, sun sinking lazily behind them, glinting on the ring on Olivia's finger.
He looked up at her now-bare hands, reaching for her fork, and realized how lonely they looked. Strong, but lonely.
I could take your fingers in my palms, and make you whole again.
I could do it just like that.
But the technical melody of a cell phone broke his reverie. They stared around at each other, that fragile line of harmony suddenly out of order, leaving them awkward and unchanged.
"That's not mine," He said, patting his pocket. Olivia shook her head, but a strange expression lingered on the line of her mouth.
She reached into her pocket, pulling out an unfamiliar looking cell, frowning. It sang out another chorus of Beethoven's Fifth, eerily cheery in the cold silence of the room.
"This is Lauren Tracy's phone." Olivia said quietly, flipping it open. "Unknown caller…" She read from the screen, leaving the room. Elliot stood up, feeling that familiar chill seizing his heart.
"Who's Lauren Tracy?" Lizzie asked, looking up from her dinner.
My wife.
…
Olivia had felt her heart nearly stop when she'd heard the ring tone, held the cold instrument in her hand. She'd left it in her pocket, forgetting to give it back to Cragen when they'd left. No one but Cragen should have known the number. No one but Cragen should have been calling. But he had no reason to call that number.
No one did.
Yet the phone rang in a monotonous tone, oblivious to its misfortune.
She stood beside the couch, resting her shaking body against it for support. Even in the comfort of these walls, even when the warmth of this family was surrounding her, she was losing. Losing her breath, her heartbeat, her safety. Losing her mind.
"Hello?"
"Lauren Tracy?" The voice was low, muffled. Barely audible.
She took a deep breath, trying not to let her voice grow too shaky. "Who is this?"
"I have something that you need to hear."
"W-what?"
"Tomorrow morning at nine thirteen. Washington Square. Beneath the arch. No authorities, no friends. Don't do anything stupid and get yourself followed."
"Who is this?"
The voice grew deeper. "Be careful. Someone's watching."
"Who is this!"
But they had hung up.
And she was left to contemplate the reality that was slowly sifting itself among the cooling fantasies of her night.
She closed the phone, breathing hard. She felt hands on her shoulders, and turned into his arms.
"Is everything alright?"
"They want to tell me…tell me something."
"Who was it?"
"I don't know."
"No one should have had that number. How did they get that number?" He frowned, leading her to the couch. She felt herself losing her steps even when his hands were guiding her, seeming to drown in his presence, gasping for breath in the brilliance of touch.
"I'm supposed to meet them in the Village tomorrow."
"How did they get the number?"
"I don't know, El." She reached for his hand, holding it tightly between her own.
"You're going to tell Cragen. You're not meeting this freak anywhere-"
"El, this could be the lead we need."
"You're not doing it without back-up."
"As long as I can go." She shivered. "But El…they…they said to be careful. They said… someone's watching."
Elliot moved closer to her, his body pressed against her own. She felt her soul flare. "They're probably just trying to play with you."
"And if they're not?" She caught her breath in an instance, standing up. "I have to get home."
"You're not going anywhere." He caught her hand, pulling her back to the couch. She surrendered in his grip, allowing herself to be molded like putty in the soft warmth of his protection. "You'll spend the night." He wrapped another arm around her.
"I can't…" She whispered it, fighting the urge to hold onto him and never let go.
"You're not going to be alone in a situation like this. I am not going to let you." His voice was so firm, so commanding. And she was so weak and her body was so light and in the dimness of that room he was the only thing she had to cling to…
"Please…" She whispered, but it was too late. Her body had already given in to the memory of a kiss, and her heart was meandering through the soft stillness of the dark, waiting for him to seize her soul and pull her through the knotted ring of this dangerous night.
Dickie and Lizzie were in the doorway, watching in silence as they clung desperately to one another, hanging on to the only person they'd ever truly loved.
…
Midnight had passed without any other significant event. He had not slept. He had not closed his eyes. He had not removed his gaze from the blink of the clock, flashing an orange streak on the dark wall. He remembered being afraid when they'd been at the hotel, imagining the man who may be waiting outside for them to lower their guard.
Now he was near this house, Elliot's own house, and his guard was already down.
The reverie of a summer day drifted through his mind again, this time half-hearted and only a faded photograph of the once-bright picture. Olivia smiled in the sunlight, leaning against him as they lay back on a hammock, swinging gently on a perfumed breeze. He planted a kiss on her golden forehead, smiling over her hair at the hazy figures running toward them. There was Dickie and Lizzie, Maureen, Kathleen…and a smaller figure with a laugh as bright as the sunshine.
His stomach growled, and the dream faded into the muted night, leaving him cold and alone in the black of his bed.
I can keep you safe.
He told it to her again and again, repeated it to that smiling face that glowed in his mind, stepping out of his bed and trying to glimpse a summer day one more time. He shuffled down the hallway and stairs, blinking as the lights in the kitchen switched on.
The cold bowl of cereal woke him up, clearing out his cloudy mind and reminding him of the stagnant reality surrounding him.
He turned at the creak of the wood floor behind him, smiled slowly at the tousle-haired visitor shuffling into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Couldn't sleep either?" He asked her, grinning at how she wore his own sweatpants, the way the oversized NYPD shirt was half-tucked into her pants.
"Not a chance." Olivia said, smiling tentatively over her shoulder. "Have any tea?"
"There might be some in the cupboards. Left side, top shelf." He nodded in the general direction, and she pulled out a bag of green tea.
"I don't care if people say this stuff has too much caffeine- a cup of tea has never done me wrong on a sleepless night." She put on a pot of water, turning to him from the stove. "Want a cup?"
"Cereal's my midnight miracle." He said, indicating the bowl with his spoon. "Helps my cholesterol, too, or so says the Cheerios box. Which in turn helps my heart, reduces my chances of cancer, and increases my fertility."
"Good for your future children, then." She said, giving him a lopsided grin. But they both blushed and turned back to their hands, seeing something more in the sentence. She filled up a cup and doused her bag, sitting down across from him as she warmed her hands on the mug. "So…" She stared at her palms, flattening them face up on the tabletop. "That phone call…"
"Yeah…" He looked up into downcast eyes, big and brown and lonely as ever.
"We in over our heads here, El? Because say the word and I'll call in the Brass." She reached out and took his hand. He gave her the other one.
"I can keep you safe." He whispered, narrowing his eyes and nodding at her.
"I know you can." She squeezed his fingers, and he felt the absence of a ring on her own hand. "Just…promise me you'll keep the kids safe first."
"I'm their father, Liv. I'm not going to let my guard down."
"I know, I'm their…" She stopped, smiling sadly. "Friend." She met his eyes with no resistance.
They finished their midnight snacks in silence, warm enough in the company of each other's presence.
When her tea was finished, Olivia put her cup in the sink, taking his bowl and spoon with it. "The bed in Kathleen's room is nice." She said as she ran them under the hot water, "Thanks for letting me have it."
He said nothing. He was staring at her back, imagining spending every night like this, realizing how easy it would be to find her near him anytime he needed her.
"El?" She glanced at him over her shoulder, giving him a quizzical frown. He stood up, moving towards her, feeling his body pulled as though by magnets to unite with her skin. He put his hands over her wrists, lifting her palms from the water, paralyzing her in his grip.
And then he kissed her neck.
"Elliot…" She said it softly, gently. His name. So…softly.
He rested his head on her back, feeling it rise and fall with her breath, uniting with the beat of her soul.
"I'd feel better if you weren't down the hall."
"El…I…"
"My bed is warmer. The mattress is softer."
"El…Dickie and Lizzie…"
"Are teenagers that don't wake up until the afternoon on the weekends. They never wake up before ten, and we have to be at work before then."
"We can't-" She began, but he silenced her with another kiss. She melted at the touch of his lips on her skin, letting him graze her forehead with his mouth.
"I can keep you safe." He whispered in her ear.
"I know you can."
And she took his hand as he led her up the stairs and down the dark hallway, all the while knowing that she would never feel safer than when she was united with him, warm and calm in the hollow contours of his body, letting the dark sink of her soul descend into the shadows of her night, and only melting with him, bodies brilliantly colliding in the heat of a winter night.