A/N: Enjoy this next chapter guys! And remember, reviews keep us going (:
It only took a few steady knocks for the door to creak open. He didn't notice her immediately once he stepped inside, until he glanced over to the couch. That's when his world crumbled around him, the four walls providing shelter toppled, and he couldn't believe his eyes.
She wore standard issue NYPD sweatpants with a matching oversized t-shirt. He smiled internally, recognizing it. He had lent it to her over four years ago; he couldn't stand seeing her blouse covered in dried blood, so he gave her one of his old shirts to wear. His mind stilled a bit as he processed the thought of her keeping it all this time.
Her face was bare of makeup, hair clipped up into a messy bun. The lack of sleep was imminent, as small bags were beginning to peek under the under lay of her olive skin. She had been crying.
And she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
He took a profound breath as he made his way over to where this woman sat. There was no greeting, no gestures. He simply sighed as he took his place next to her. She was playing at the hem of her t-shirt, and he caught a small glimpse of a smile. Her eyes fixated on the half-empty take out containers sprawled out on the coffee table in front of them, and they lingered in a few minutes of silence before he chose to speak.
" So.. Liv, what's up?" He said, trying to sound nonchalant and friendly.
Her gaze slowly directed itself toward him, and she smiled.
He tried to hide his confusion, and fought himself against asking again.
"I.. umm…"
Her voice stood at a whisper, almost hard to hear. He waited for her to continue.
" Not sure I can stay at the unit for much longer. "
What? What did she just say?
"L-..Liv." was all he could muster under the cloak of panic that had been instilled in his body, injected through the heart. Not surprisingly, the words pierced more flesh than any of the gun shots he had ever sustained.
Sensing the dread in his voice, she placed her hand on his knee, offering up her warmth and comfort; as a way to cushion the blow that was about to be dealt; took a deep breath, and continued.
" After the whole thing with Calvin, I've taken the time to really analyze my life for what it is, and what It can be. I want kids, Elliot. I want to be married and happy and… Every day, each case, takes another little piece of me. Every case a little more horrific than the other. I don't know if I have anything more of me to give. I've been alone my entire life, but it's now that I'm really starting to feel it. The loneliness, the isolation… All I have to come home to is this empty apartment and my mother's old liquor cabinet. I do not want to become my mother. I feel like this job is finally getting in the way of that. I resist the urge to chug an entire bottle of whiskey every night to try to wipe away the images of battered women, slaughtered kids... I need some sanity, Elliot. Or I won't survive. "
The tears that had been collecting started to flow with the fluttering of her eyelids.
He sensed his heart shatter into pieces as the words began to sink into the depth of his stomach. He felt physically ill, and resisted every temptation to throw her into his arms and keep her there forever, showing her love, compassion…
Love.
He shut his eyes for a second, commanding the tears to keep themselves at bay. It took a few seconds to recollect himself, but after mulling over something (anything) to say, his eyes flapped open to take in the sight before him.
She was crying harder than before now, rolling clenched fists into her hair, and punching the cushions.
Whatever Olivia Benson was made of that had made her so indestructible, so impenetrable for so long; life had become the antidote to it. He looked on as he witnessed the destruction of the bouldered fort she had hid behind crumble; over forty years in the making.
They sat under cover of misery and darkness, the impenetrable silence between them never become awkward or uncomfortable, it was just therapeutic.
Each other's company was all they needed.
As Liv's sobs settled down and eventually came to a stand-still, exhaustion crept up for both of them.
He took a chance, and directed her head to his lap when she began to drift in and out of consciousness, with no sign of a protest. His hands stroked her hair and caressed her jawline; all she needed to give in to the fatigue.
It was there, in the far corner of Olivia's couch, that Elliot found himself the way he had always wanted to be: enveloped in her.
Before following her lead and falling asleep, Elliot sent a hushed prayer to his God for putting him there, in the center of his partner's heart. He took in the light smell of lavender and vanilla that invaded him from below, and added another promise to his list.
He would stay in this position for ever.
A/N: Things are revving up real soon around here, I promise! Remember to review! Any scene ideas are appreciated, especially for any possible smut scenes? hmm (; Up next: Elliot attempts to make some headway on his list. Will he succeed?