"And I've lost my light

For I toss and turn

I can't sleep at night"

-Tainted Love, Soft Cell

Tuesday, June 6, 2023

Evening

He shouldn't do it. He knows he should wait. Hell, she told him to wait. She said she wasn't ready and he should be satisfied with how things are considering how monumentally he fucked up by leaving her the way he had twelve years ago. He's made his intentions clear and she has been surprisingly tolerant of his continuous nagging about a relationship that obviously scares the shit out of her and as often as she delays his advances, she hasn't shut him down completely. She hasn't said no. And she's not dating anyone else either. He should be over the fucking moon with not yet.

But he's always been a greedy bastard and he'd spent fucking decades denying that he even wanted her and now that it's not against the rules or immoral or wrong by anyone's definition, he's tired of fucking waiting. He wants her. He loves her. And he's finally sure, despite all her mixed signals and his insecurities over the years, that she wants him, that she wants them. She said it.

So he's not patient because he's tired of being patient and he knows she has a lifelong history of being let down and he knows he made that worse and he's trying to make up for it by being here no matter how many times she pushes him away. So after a day of dealing with Bell's newest hire - some kid who has been a detective for less than a week - Elliot needs something good and decent and less frustrating than feeling like he's running an afterschool tutoring session on how to be a cop when you grow up. He could call or text because that's how normal people communicate these days, but he's well aware of how easy it is to ignore calls and texts because he's got several messages from his kids that he's been meaning to answer and just hasn't yet and there are a handful of voicemails from his mom asking if he remembered to feed the dog - and they've never had a dog despite him begging and pleading for years when he was a kid, so no, he doesn't want to say he didn't feed the dog but he also can't explain there's no dog to feed because she'll get upset - so he shows up at Olivia's office and leans on her door, hoping like hell she'll find it harder to turn him down in person.

He's right apparently, because while she can't accept his invite for dinner tonight because she's already late to pick up Noah, she counters unexpectedly with an offer of tomorrow and he's practically floating all the way home. He tries to temper his expectations because agreeing to dinner with someone she's known for twenty-five years is hardly agreeing to a relationship, but he can't help it. It's progress and it's definitely more than he expected when he was trying to talk himself out of showing up and inviting her to dinner because as much as she has been tolerating his attempts, she's never agreed to a plan of spending time together before tonight.

He's grinning as he heads back to the office, figuring he's too excited to sleep and there's a shitload of things he needs to get caught up on since he was babysitting Evans all day and wasn't able to finish any of the things he hadn't gotten around to since last week. He's the only one in the office and normally that would mean he has the quiet he needs to really buckle down and focus, but his mind keeps wandering and his lips keep smiling and fuck he suspects he might be humming, even though he's denying such a thing is even possible.

He's trying, dammit, he is, but he's just staring at paperwork and notes he took and instead of being horrified about the things he's investigating, he's just grinning and thinking he's a lucky fucking bastard, the luckiest fucking bastard on Earth, really, because Olivia Benson agreed to have dinner with him and even if he won't risk scaring her by calling it a date to her face, in his head, they are definitely going on a date.

He's re-reading witness statements and pondering the idea of bringing her flowers. He's running background checks and wondering if he should make reservations. He's filling out a request for a warrant and hoping she wears a dress because she never wears dresses and she looks fanfuckingtastic in them. He's driving home with a smile on his face and telling himself if she wears a dress, then she thinks it's a date.

The grin fades when he's halfway home, a text from Kathleen souring his good mood. Don't panic, Grandma was very confused tonight, she's fine now. He's sitting at a red light, staring at the text, wondering what to do. Kathleen would have told him to come if there was still a problem, but then again, she wouldn't have said anything if everything were really ok. Bernie has been doing so well with Kathleen and the kids this past year and he doesn't want to undermine the current situation since it seems to be working.

He decides to call anyway because he's uncomfortable with the idea of responding to the news with a text. "Hey, Katie, what's going on?"

Her voice is soft and calm and it makes Elliot feel better because his daughter has never been able to mask emotion in her voice. "I said not to panic, Dad. We're ok."

"I'm not there, am I? See, not panicking." He doesn't mention that while he's not on his way there, he is pulled over on the side of the road waiting to make the decision if he needs to be on his way there.

"Mo was here for dinner and you know how much she looks like mom and Grandma called her Kathy and pulled her aside to say she's worried about me because I'm out of control."

He'd laugh because after her rocky teenage years, Kathleen has been the steadiest of his kids, gainfully employed and in a decent apartment and not having any existential crises or marital problems. Except it's not a damn bit funny if Bernie has forgotten that Kathy died, mixed up Kathy and Maureen, and either thought Kathleen was a teenager or had lost almost twenty years.

He clears his throat with his hand on the turn signal, looking over his shoulder to see if he can cut across the highway. "I'm on my way."

"No, Dad, no. She's ok. She was confused, but we talked to her and she remembered everything on her own. She's fine now." Kathleen waits a second before she follows up, a guilty tinge to her voice. "I counted her pills, she's taking them. I think she was just confused."

"You did the right thing to check." His first instinct is to reassure his daughter because there's a big difference between Bernie getting confused and Bernie stopping her medication. "She is almost ninety, Katie, she's entitled to get a little confused now and then."

"She's already asleep, but maybe you could check on her tomorrow?" There's a soft plea in her voice that Elliot can't ignore.

"Yeah, I'll come by after work." He says it without thinking, only realizing as he continues on his way home that he's either going to have to leave work early or move his plans with Olivia to make it, and he doesn't need to think about his choice as he texts Ayanna that he has family stuff tomorrow afternoon and so he'll have to leave early.

There's absolutely no way he's taking the risk of backing out of their plans. Dinner with Olivia means everything to him.

But the universe has other ideas and he has barely parked his truck outside his apartment when his phone lights up with another message, this one from Olivia, and his heart leaps for the briefest of moments, thinking maybe she's asking about where they're going to dinner or offering to bring a bottle of wine if he's cooking, but he should know better, really he should, and he does when he sees the message. Noah has an extra rehearsal for his Spring recital tomorrow night and the babysitter is busy. Can we reschedule?

He's sitting in the truck and staring at the message and feeling like he's just been suckerpunched and he supposes he has been, the universe double crossing him with not only his mother's confusion, but also Olivia backing out of the plans it took him over a year to get her to accept. He knows he can't take too long to respond or she'll know he's upset and she'll assume he's mad which he supposes is better than her knowing he's hurt but either way he has to answer and sends back no problem and he feels bad lying, because he is lying, it is a problem, a big problem, because he was really looking forward to it and he's telling himself that he should have given her more notice and more warning than just dropping by her office and she probably was too surprised by the invitation for tonight to think about Noah's schedule tomorrow and he doesn't want to feel bad because he wants to believe it was an accident, but he doesn't make any offers to reschedule. He can't help but notice she doesn't either.

With his brief respite from his loneliness over, he changes into workout gear, grabs a bottle of whiskey, and heads outside to the weight rack. He doesn't bother with a glass because no one cares and he alternately works his muscles to exhaustion and numbs his mind to silence. It's probably better this way. He's not good company, he knows that, Kathy had been unafraid to detail all his personality faults when she was angry and the overarching theme had always been that he's simply an asshole that no one really wants to be around most of the time, and he's been blowing off his kids lately, and he was a jerk about the new guy to Bell, and he was a fucking jackass to the new guy. He's not surprised Olivia canceled on him. He can't blame her because he's barely able to stand five minutes alone with himself before he's reaching for alcohol.

He wakes up somewhere around three in the morning, his back aching from passing out on the weight bench, and he drags himself to his bedroom. He crawls under the blanket and buries his face in the pillow and tries to remember for the briefest of moments how fucking good he'd felt when he thought he'd finally convinced Olivia to go on a date.

But then he remembers the admonishment Father Hogan had given him so damn many years ago and he knows he's being punished for not heeding the priest's advice and he wants to argue that circumstances are different and it shouldn't be wrong anymore, but the doubt creeps into his mind anyway because he's paying the price for the sin he committed so many years ago. He can pretend all he wants that he doesn't believe any of it, that he feels no guilt for breaking ties with the church, but the whiskey won't let him lie to himself.

This miserable loneliness of his is exactly the damnation about which Hogan had spoken.

He brought it on himself.