She smiles now, reaching out to pull the plate closer to herself. There isn't much pie left, mostly crust, and she starts breaking it apart with her fork. "You know why I didn't, though, right?" she asks absently.
"What, call?" he grunts.
She nods.
He doesn't have the faintest idea. "I thought you were mad at me."
Olivia puts the fork down and looks at him. "I felt rejected. Like you didn't want me anymore," she says. She doesn't care if it sounds petty.
"My decision had nothing to do with you," he says quickly, hoping to reassure her.
"I know," she whispers, "and that hurt."
He blinks as he thinks about what she's said. "So, what changed?" he asks at last. "Why now?"
I gave my whole life to NYPD, and I forgot to live my own.
She shifts as she tries to formulate an answer; he can see her thinking.
"I've been... reevaluating," she says. "There've been some things, recently, that have made me... question... my decisions."
He waits.
She rubs her face and sighs. "You know me better than anyone, El, even if I haven't seen you in three years. I just needed... to be grounded. You know?"
Take care of yourself. (And Elliot was how she took care of herself.)
He takes the final sip of his cold coffee, watching her over the rim of the mug.
"What decisions," he says. It's more of a demand than a question, because he's almost angry about whatever has made her doubt herself.
"Just... personal things."
"Liv, come on, we're partners—you can tell me," he says quickly, swiping her mug from in front of her and taking a drink from it, just for effect.
She rolls her eyes, but she's on the verge of smiling, and he can't help the complacent smirk that forms on his own face in response. "I just needed perspective, not advice," she tells him.
"Perspective on what?" he asks, his smug grin turning cheeky as he settles in his seat, spreading his arms over the back of the booth.
"It's really none of—you know, it's not even that important," she says, getting flustered by his behavior.
"Something is, considering you called in the middle of the night," he teases.
"Fine. You can give me advice," she says, mostly to shut him up. She loves the ease of this old, familiar banter. She loves how effortlessly they shift both topic and mood, so she decides to give him a chance: with eyes cast away from him, she takes a breath, then half a breath more, and speaks. "When you're in... a relationship... are you supposed to feel like you're losing yourself?"
He brings his arms down and folds them over his chest. "I'm not sure the divorcee is your best authority on this," he jokes.
She sighs and puts her head in her hand.
"But no," he adds quietly, leaning forward a little. "I would say no. You should feel like you're finding yourself. Maybe for the first time ever."
Head still tilted against her palm, she looks up at him. Being with Elliot made her feel like herself. Made her feel found. In this moment, in this diner at three a.m., she feels normal for the first time since the ordeal with Lewis. She feels safe. Cared for. Partnered. And, despite the company, she feels independent. This is exactly what she has been missing. This. Or maybe him.
"Is this Cassidy we're talking about?" he asks so quietly that it really just sounds like a string of consonants.
"Your friends on the job know everything, huh?" she remarks, sitting upright, pulling away from him.
He shrugs casually, as if that's enough of an answer. "You know, I thought Cassidy was a one-time thing," he confesses then, almost a whine. "I thought... he was in the past. What happened, Olivia?"
Suddenly she feels uncomfortable, more uncomfortable than she used to whenever Elliot would grill her about a boyfriend. Maybe because she has begun to think about ending things with Brian, maybe because she has finally realized exactly what Elliot means to her, maybe because she has nearly voiced it, or maybe because Elliot's ring is gone and their rendezvous instantly felt more intimate once she noticed.
The moment is interrupted by their waiter refilling their coffees and asking whether they want anything else to eat. Elliot waves him off and returns to Olivia, who is now staring at the sugar caddy.
Elliot stifles a yawn, watches her for a moment, then turns away. "Why him?" he mutters to himself.
They are silent for a while. But when she evaluates everything and finally acknowledges that Elliot has always been her partner, even when NYPD said he wasn't, she decides to open up. "Truth is," she starts quietly, "I don't know." She feels a sudden chill and brings her hands to the bench seat to sit on them. "It was a mistake fifteen years ago, but it was a fun mistake." She shakes her head faintly. "Something clicked when we saw each other again, and... I don't know."
The expression on his face is pained when he looks at her again. "But you're happy?" he asks.
She winces. "I thought I was," she tells him.
Elliot's eyes darken, and a shadow of his old intensity washes over his features. "And now?" he asks. He's suddenly wound as tight as Olivia remembers him, and she can't shake the feeling that if Brian were to walk in at this moment, Elliot would pulverize him before he had a chance to say hello.
She closes her eyes, takes a fortifying breath. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."
A low, familiar growl rumbles in the space between them. Elliot clears his throat and sniffs. His jaw tenses, relaxes. "What can I do?" he asks soberly.
Take care of yourself. You deserve it.
She almost bursts into tears right then.
When she gets herself together, she turns her focus to him and studies him. He's so sincere, so genuinely concerned. She searches for something to tell him because he's actually waiting for an answer and because, in all honesty, she wants him to be able to fix everything. She'll keep it light, though; she doesn't want to ask him for more than he's ready to give. "Just," she starts, her voice a little thick from her almost crying, "keep answering when I call."
"Always," he promises quickly. Then something lights up in his eyes and he playfully returns: "Just please keep calling." His smile and raised eyebrow afterwards feel like a challenge.
She meets it.
Relief tinges his resulting laugh.
"And maybe drive me home?" she suggests, mostly kidding.
"Would if I could," he laments with a sigh. "Took the subway."
But she's not ready to give him up yet. "Then walk me?" she asks shyly.
He flinches—perhaps wasn't expecting the request, perhaps wasn't expecting the tone—and nods. "Of course," he says. He bites back another yawn and watches her closely. "You ready now?"
She nods, Elliot grabs his phone from the end of the table, and they slide out of the booth, each stretching before they layer up against the cold. After Elliot pays at the register, they make their way into the frigid early morning air.
Take care of yourself.
Outside, Olivia immediately takes his hand and laces their fingers together. Neither has gloves, though, so Elliot jams both their hands into his coat pocket to keep them warm, casting a quick glance her way to see if she minds. She only steps closer, and they walk on. Their progress together is slow, joined this way.
On the nine-block walk back, Olivia volunteers some of her apprehensions about Brian, without naming them as concerns. She shares the recent developments about Nick with Elliot, including Brian's hostility towards him. As best she can, with as few specifics as possible, she tries to tell her partner about the revelation she had before she picked up the phone to call him tonight. He nods, saying he understands. She suspects he does.
Part of her wants to tell Elliot about Lewis, but maybe this is not the time or place for it. When talking about mistakes she has made with Brian, she reflects on the decision to move in with him and says, "And something happened this summer that just... kind of..." and Elliot fiercely squeezes her hand in his pocket. So, he must know, she reasons. And they can talk about it later, if either needs to. She quiets, then, and neither says another word until they are outside her new building.
She slows. Realizing this must be their stop, Elliot turns and releases her hand. "Listen," he says quietly, his breath a haze between them. "When things calm down... or if they don't and you need some time away... all you have to do is call, okay?" He nods his head downtown then peers that way, as if he could see his own place, sixty blocks away. "I'm right there. Just say the word."
She gives him the best smile she can manage right now, forever on the verge of tears, it seems, then steps forward and pulls him into a tight embrace.
He returns it, and they clutch at each other's too-bulky coats, their cold fingers not fully finding the purchase they intend. But he holds her, and their heads rest against one another's. Into her ear, as they are about to part, he breathes, "Take care of yourself, partner."
You deserve it.
Her tenuous resolve snaps. If Elliot was how she took care of herself, what exactly did she deserve? As they release one another, she grabs him again and spontaneously presses her lips to his. It's not really a kiss; neither was prepared, neither has moved, and if their breathing is any indication, both are terrified. In fact, it's so not a kiss that her lips don't even catch on his when she pulls away, which she does after only a moment.
She thinks maybe—maybe—she can still salvage her dignity and escape into her building before they have to acknowledge what she just did and things become awkward between the recently-reunited former partners. Still wide-eyed, she begins to rotate away from him.
"Olivia?" he croaks, and she stops.
The tone in his voice is completely foreign to her. She thought she'd learned his every pitch in the time they worked together, but this one's altogether new. Despite her embarrassment, she dares to look at him.
He is standing much closer than she remembered, and his eyes are fixed on hers. In the same instant his gaze flicks away and back, his jaw tilts subtly up, and she has the most miraculous moment of clarity.
Neither one starts it, but suddenly there they are, heads together, eyes closed, lips tenderly tugging at the other's.
Her fingers ghost over his cheek as his hands attempt to grip her waist to pull her closer.
Elliot angles his head more, sliding his mouth along Olivia's bottom lip. "Yes," she breathes into him. Her hand travels to his neck and this is quickly becoming the most intimate experience Olivia has ever had. Never mind that their tongues have not yet touched, and they are far more than fully-clothed. She has never felt so profoundly connected to someone; she has truly never felt more like herself.
Olivia nips at Elliot's upper lip as he adjusts his position again and draws her in.
It is the sodium streetlight on the corner cycling off with an almost audible pop that finally jars them from their embrace. They each step back a marginal distance as their eyes open sleepily. Elliot's gaze roams across her face, down her neck, and eventually down and up her body. She feels herself flush under his scrutiny, imagining that he's planning other destinations for his mouth. Frankly, that's all she can think about right now, too.
Take care of yourself.
"So, uh, you'll call? Maybe?" he asks. He sounds dazed. His mouth has that incredible just-kissed look to it, and she is in awe of the fact that she's responsible.
You deserve it.
She bows her head before she can speak. It was meant to be a nod, but she didn't have the strength to pull her head back up. "Yeah," she wheezes.
He nods a couple of times, swallows hard, and huffs, "Well. Good night then."
"Yeah," she repeats. "Night," is all the more she can manage before she turns away and trudges up the steps to the door.
He watches her go, and once she's inside, he lingers for a moment before finally shoving his hands back into his coat pockets and making his way to the 1 Train.
Brian saw. She always insisted that nothing was going on—but years ago, she had insisted that about him, too, and now he'd seen. At first, he didn't even recognize them. He'd gotten home an hour earlier, fixed himself a sandwich, and had kicked through the living room, checking for any sign that Amaro might still be around. Finding none, he retreated to the bedroom and was surprised to find her gone. He showered, though, the filth associated with Tucker's most recent internal sting just too much for him to stand, then returned to the living room. Their windows faced onto the cross street, with a view of the intersection, and Brian just happened to glimpse them as they crossed it, strolling as if they hadn't a care in the world. Their arms appeared to be linked, her head on his shoulder, as they walked. He watched until they disappeared around the front of the building. He was furious. And though he knew she would deny it if he asked, he could clearly see, even five stories up, that she'd never given up her former partner.
-fin-
A/N: Thanks so much for reading and giving it a chance.