2
"Let me get you some coffee first," said Elliot, pushing back his chair and heading to the counter before she could protest. He knew she probably couldn't care less about coffee; what she wanted was answers but he needed a minute to gather his thoughts. When Dean suggested that they meet to discuss the job with Olivia, he knew he would finally have to answer for his actions and at the time, had been semi-grateful for the opportunity. Now he wasn't so sure. She's so damn angry. What had he expected? He knew she'd be hurt by how he had avoided her and knowing her as well as he did, he should have anticipated the anger. A hurt Olivia Benson was usually an angry Olivia Benson.
When he returned, he had a cup for both of them. He needed something to do with his hands as much as he wanted an infusion of caffeine. He sat back down and began to twist the thick ceramic mug back and forth as he decided how to begin. She obviously wasn't going to try to make things easier and he didn't blame her. When looked at from her perspective, his actions probably seemed unjustifiable.
When he did start speaking, his voice was low and hoarse, full of emotion. "I'm sorry I haven't called you. I couldn't. I couldn't face anyone, but least of all you."
"Least of all me?" she asked coolly.
He forced himself to meet her eyes, those deep brown eyes that always showed exactly how she was feeling, no matter how carefully she controlled her facial muscles to maintain a neutral expression. Right now those dark pools were flashing danger signals at him: anger, hurt, sadness. He fought down the desire to bolt from the coffee shop. He was done running away from what happened; it was time to face his demons.
"Yes, especially not you," he repeated. "Right after the shooting, I was a mess. I was so angry, Liv. I blamed everyone involved."
"Especially me," she said in a flat tone. It was a statement, with no raised inflection at the end. She wasn't asking, she was telling him what she knew to be true.
As difficult as it was, he maintained eye contact. "At first, yes, I blamed you."
"And now?" She maintained the same flat tone. It hurt to see how hard she was trying to mask her pain and to know that he was the cause of it.
"Now? Now I know I was mostly angry with myself. Now I know that everyone did the best they could under terrible circumstances. Now…I know it's time to let it go and move on with my life."
"And how did you come to all of these realizations?" Her tone was still chilly. This wasn't good. He'd never planned how he was going to say all of this to her, but in the back of his mind, he thought that once they'd talked it out, things would be fine between them again. He now realized what a foolish assumption that had been. She didn't know what he'd been through in the past six months. She didn't know that there had been mornings when he couldn't drag himself out of bed, nights when he'd woken up screaming, "Jenna, no!" and Kathy had to hold him, just like one of the kids, until he could fall back to sleep again. She didn't know because he hadn't talked to her—not once—in the last six months. As far as she knew, he was just the bastard who'd decided to quit his job—and their partnership-without a single phone call.
"I started seeing a therapist. I still am. The department made it mandatory if I was going to receive any of their benefits, and I think Kathy would have tied me up and dragged me to one herself if I didn't go. I was pretty…useless…for a long time. There are still days when I wake up and remember what happened and don't want to get out of bed, but I'm learning to deal with it. I'm putting it behind me, a little at a time." He paused and looked at her, his trying to judge if any of what he was saying was softening her armor at all. "I think about you every day, Liv. There have been dozens of times when I wanted to pick up the phone and call to see how you were doing, but I wasn't ready."
"I called you, Elliot, so many times." Her tone was soft, wistful and made him wonder if he had waited too long for this conversation, if she had already permanently pushed him out of her life.
"Olivia, I threw my cell phone away that night. I never wanted to see or talk to anyone from SVU again. I refused to let Kathy put any calls through to me. I was a mess, and I didn't want to lash out and make things worse. I didn't trust myself. "
They sat in silence for a few minutes, both involuntarily revisiting the events of that terrible day. They'd just begun to wrap up a difficult case. A woman had been murdered in cold blood, right in front of her seventeen year old daughter. At first, it appeared to be clear cut. She'd been a rape victim and the case against her rapist, a celebrity hair stylist, was finally, after two long years of legal delays, about to go to trial. It seemed obvious that he'd killed her, or had her killed, to prevent her from testifying. But when they started looking at the rapist as the suspect, things became muddy very quickly.
In the end, it turned out to be three men, each with their own foul motives, whose actions had culminated in the murder of Annette Fox. They'd just arrested the three and had them in a holding cell in the middle of the newly renovated squad room when the victim's daughter, Jenna, came to see Olivia. Like many victims, the girl had bonded with Olivia and Elliot was happy to let her handle it. He'd frowned when he saw Olivia showing the girl the three perps—that was never a good idea. The time to confront them was in the courtroom. But Jenna had turned around to leave almost immediately, assuring Olivia that she was as "okay as I'm ever going to be" and Elliot had turned his attention back to the endless paperwork in front of him. There was a pre-school open house for Eli that evening and he'd promised Kathy he'd be home in time to go with them. Maybe, just maybe, he could keep that promise.
The next thing they knew, all hell had broken loose. Olivia, distracted at the thought of her own mountain of paperwork, had only escorted the girl as far as the elevators. She was back at her desk, talking to Sister Peg, the nun at the homeless shelter who'd been integral in helping them solve the case, when Jenna was suddenly back. This time she had a gun, and despite her tiny frame and shaking hands, managed to let loose a round of bullets into the holding cage before anyone had time to react.
It was all over in less than a minute. Olivia stood there, frozen and in plain view, while Elliot grabbed his gun and crouched behind his desk. He yelled for the girl to drop her gun and she almost did—this was the part that broke his heart, over and over again-she was just about to put the gun down when one of the perps, Eddie Skinner, who'd only been wounded, began mouthing off.
"I shoulda killed you when I killed your mother." He sneered. Jenna, incredulous, her eyes wide with pain and shock, turned the gun back toward him.
He'd had no choice. The girl had already shot the three men in the holding cell and had turned to shoot wildly at the rest of the room in response to cries from Olivia and Elliot to stop, to put the gun down. Sister Peg, hit by her random shot, was on the ground, bleeding heavily, and Olivia was crouched over her. Elliot had no choice. He ordered her to drop the gun and when she ignored him, turned and aimed her shaking hand at Skinner once again, his years of training kicked in and he fired.
His single shot to her small torso dropped her immediately. He flew across the room to her side, kicking the gun out of her hand and bending down to assess the damage, but the light was already fading from her young eyes.
"I bought it on the street," she gasped, blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth. "It was easy."
Elliot shook his head, as if that could erase the memory that would haunt him for the rest of his days, a young girl, dying in front of him, dying because he'd shot her. He'd left the station as soon as he could that night and had never returned. In order to survive, he'd had to cut off all contact with the people who'd been there with him on that day. For a long time, he didn't think he'd ever be able to return to police work at all, but the months of therapy had helped him come to terms with what had happened. And really, what else did he know how to do? Twenty-plus years on the police force had left ill-equipped to do anything besides security and he wasn't going to go down that dead end road. He was too young to retire permanently; he'd lose his mind without a job. When Porter contacted him, out of the blue, with this offer, it seemed like the perfect solution. When Porter asked him if he knew of anyone else who might be interested, Olivia's name had been out of his mouth before he had time to think about it.
Blame? Yes, there had been plenty of that to go around in the first few months. Blame for the uniformed officer at the downstairs door who'd let an armed girl into the precinct. Blame for Olivia, who'd led Jenna right to the perps and let her leave without accurately assessing her condition. Olivia had never even drawn her gun, but stood there, frozen, an open and easy target. Once he saw Sister Peg go down, his biggest fear was that Olivia would be next. She'd left him no choice.
"So where do we go from here, Elliot?" Olivia asked. Her voice was much softer than earlier. Was she thawing a bit? Her next words belayed that thought: "How can you possibly think we can work together again?"
He held her gaze, willing her to let down her guard long enough to listen to what he had to say.
"I know I was wrong to shut you out, Olivia. I left you alone to deal with the aftermath. But you have to believe me when I tell you it was all I could do. I wasn't fit to be around people, let alone help anyone else." He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "I haven't been a good partner, but if you give me another chance, I'll make it up to you. Are you happy at SVU now?"
Olivia's eyes filled with tears. "I hate it, Elliot. Nothing is the same without you, and everything changed after that shooting. I dread going to work every day."
He reached across the table and grasped her hands. "Then let's try this, Liv. It's a fresh start for both of us. I can't go back to SVU or NYPD, but I can't imagine working without you as my partner. When Porter asked me if I knew anyone else he could hire, you were the first person I thought of. This is our chance. Let's take it. Will you at least meet with Porter and hear what he has to say?"
She gave him a flicker of a smile, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "We've always hated the Feds, Elliot—now you want to be one?"
Relief spread over him like a wave. She's considering it. "The way I look at it, Benson," he said, flashing his trademark smile, the one that always got him whatever he wanted. "Is that this is our chance for revenge, for all of the time those assholes botched up our investigations. Once we're in their network, we can run things the way we want, and Porter won't be able to do a damn thing about it."