Day Twenty-Seven
Olivia decided that if she had to die, she would die happy. Until recently, she'd been afraid things weren't really going to work out. Mostly due to the unconventional way they'd first come together, the pure heat, the senseless passion, the animalistic release, she'd thought it might have been ruined. Contrary to their claims of love and promises of continued friendship, Olivia hadn't been a bit convinced that it would actually work out that way. At best, she'd honestly expected her disappearance would serve to erase the discomfort of having had to face each other immediately afterwards, leaving them to ignore, or forget, what they'd done. At worst, she'd thought that they would be unable to deal with it and each other and they'd avoid each other until they stopped seeing each other at all.
Of course, every moment that had gone by since that day when he'd found her had been chipping away at the doubt that had always gotten the best of her whenever she contemplated more of a relationship with him. He hadn't been a jerk. He hadn't wanted to forget what they'd done and he hadn't wanted it to be a pattern either. Elliot, it seemed, was more perfect than she could have imagined him to be. Because he wasn't perfect, he was human. He had his flaws. He had his own problems. And even when he got snippy with her, she knew she never had to fear him.
Starting the morning after they'd made love, truly made love for the first time, she woke up to find herself cuddled in Elliot's arms. She'd never really given any thought to when he woke up in the morning, mostly because they were pretty much always available and usually sleep deprived. She'd always been a night owl herself, having no problem keeping the late hours the job often required of her, dreading the early mornings. It had always been her pattern to drag her sleepy ass out of bed in the morning, seriously regret whatever had possessed her to stay up too late the night before, and hit the streets for a run until her brain was awake enough to handle something so complicated as turning on the coffee maker and taking a shower.
So it was a strange, though welcome, experience to wake up in the morning to find that Elliot, who was up before the sun everyday, was lying there, snuggling close to her, smiling at her, rubbing her arm or her back or something. As pleasant as it was, her first instinct was still always to be a grouch, bitching and groaning about having been up late, even if it was because they'd been busy going at it like rabbits, and thinking about how much she didn't really want to go out for a jog.
But Elliot silenced her before she got herself too bogged down in the mood, always ready to shut her up by placing his mouth firmly over her own, happily kissing her, and quite often doing other things too, until she was in a better mood.
And then, mostly after she decided that having sex in the morning was infinitely better exercise than jogging in the cold, she'd drag her happily tired body to the kitchen to make the coffee while Elliot took one of his phenomenally short showers. She kept her hair short because it was faster to wash and dry and style, but seeing the ease with which the man could get up, showered, shaved and dressed made her wonder if she shouldn't keep her hair as short as his. By the time he raced through the kitchen, announcing that he was going to be late and stealing a sip of her coffee since he didn't have time for his own, she discounted the idea of getting a hair cut because she knew she'd simply never have that much energy in the morning, no matter how sweetly Elliot kissed her.
Although, admittedly, kissing her was not the way to convince her to get out of bed.
And everyday, when he leaned in for a coffee-flavored kiss goodbye, he'd get just as distracted as she did, letting the emotions and the feelings overtake good sense. He'd eventually leave, trying to button his shirt while tucking it back in, generally looking like he'd slept in his clothes.
It always made her grin, thinking that at the very least his attire made it look like he was living on his own, fending for himself with the iron, and thus kept the fact that they were more or less living together from prying eyes.
After five days of sitting around doing nothing and calling Elliot every ten minutes to tell him that she was bored and that she missed him and offering a fairly detailed description of the sorts of things she might be willing to do for him if he could slip away from work for his lunch, Olivia had absolutely had it. She'd proven to Huang that she could last a few hours without Elliot, told herself she could do more if she actually wanted to, but short of explaining to Huang how exactly nightmares had nothing to do with the bags under her eyes from not sleeping, she was pretty much left in a hurry-up-and-wait status. Though Elliot apparently hadn't had any reservations about filling the psychiatrist in on the intimate details of that first time in the crib, Olivia herself had no desire whatsoever to report to a coworker that Elliot had her awake and screaming out for Jesus to save her all hours of the night.
She figured that Huang could keep her at bay forever because he didn't have any problem ignoring her when she tried to bait him, unlike Elliot who'd never been able to resist a good, pointless argument. Cragen, however, was more likely to be the weak point. Cragen was already upset about being down a detective. Special Victims was, as usual, swamped. Therefore, Olivia figured that if she marched into the unit, appearing perfectly fit for duty and acting relatively normal, relatively of course because she'd be trying to silently lure Elliot up to the crib the whole time, it would make Cragen pressure Huang to allow her to return to work.
And returning to work was the last thing left on her mental list of things she needed to do before she could really start pretending Howie had never happened. He'd had her for a week and tied up her life for another two. It was far more time than she'd ever allowed a perp to control her life and she wanted it done. Over. Gone. She wanted to put it in the cabinet and never look at it again.
So she spent a long time getting dressed, carefully taking an hour to pick out just the right clothes to convey the message that she was off work but fine, making sure her hair looked so perfect that Cragen might notice she had nothing else to do or worry about besides putting every strand of hair in the right place, applying her makeup so that the Elliot's-been-keeping-me-up-at-night bags under her eyes were hidden and giving her cheeks a nice healthy glow.
She'd walked that same route countless numbers of times, yet it felt strange. Not new, but not quite familiar either. She'd forced herself to take a deep breath and walk past the alley without panicking several times in the intervening days, but even so, she knew, deep down, that she would never ever be the same woman she'd been that night. It hadn't necessarily been Howie that had changed her; there were other things – that she'd survived the experience, that Elliot had endured and survived his own side of it, that their relationship was undeniably altered. Things were different and so she had to change and so everything was new, even those same streets she'd walked many, many times.
Olivia wasn't the type to wax poetic; she was more the type who'd want to punch someone for waxing poetic. But she knew that those happy mornings with Elliot, those amazing nights, were ones that she'd remember forever. They were the groundwork for something different, something good. The beginning of something she knew she'd never forget. Someday, she'd be sitting in her wheelchair at the old folks home, laughing at Elliot's pathetic attempts to flirt with the nurses, remembering those days. It made her sad to think that it might never be so good again.
The unexpected melancholy chased her into the precinct where friendly faces smiled and nodded, mercifully not paying too much attention to her. She was afraid that a swarm of well-wishers might bring tears to her face, and tears would completely ruin the show she was intending to put on. Still, she was forcing them back as she turned the corner, taking in the sight of the bullpen for the first time.
It was the same as always. The same hum of activity, dozens of voicing talking simultaneously, computers beeping, drawers slamming, chairs rolling, doors squeaking. Boxes of shit were haphazardly piled around, waiting for some sucker to be bored enough to fill out the forms to send them to archives. Munch and Lake were standing by the board, alternately pointing and shaking their heads at something that had been tacked there. Fin was filling his coffee cup. Elliot was picking at his keyboard, even more pathetically slow than normal with one hand out of commission.
She stood there silently, trying not to feel overwhelmed with happiness that at least one thing was the same as she remembered. The tears were pricking her eyes and she fought with all of her strength to hold them back. She didn't want to cry. She was too fucking happy. And she wasn't so soft and sentimental that she'd cry from happiness. Not yet.
Finished pouring sugar into his coffee, Fin turned away from the table, his eyes scanning the room as though he instinctively recognized something had changed while his back was turned. Elliot seemed to recognize it too, his head swinging around toward her at the same time Fin's face lit up in a smile.
"Olivia!" Fin was halfway across the room in two steps, but then she couldn't see him anymore.
Elliot was on his feet, blocking her view, practically running to her side, his hands reaching for her and only remembering at the last moment that he wasn't supposed to touch her, at least not in public. "Liv, what's wrong?"
She shook her head, unable to speak around the tears. Just as she'd feared downstairs, a crowd had gathered, bringing the tears to the surface. Elliot's protective frame held them at bay, knowing that she was upset, fearing that the upset had driven her to seek him out. She reached for his hand, hoping no one would notice, needing the contact more than she cared about rumors.
Munch's voice sounded above the crowd, his hands pushing people apart. "Move it, people, give the lady some room!" Whether from kindness or his words, the group dispersed, patting her on the back and offering greetings as they turned their attention to other things.
She was grateful for Munch's intervention, but still unable to say anything. She couldn't even look at him. Her eyes were locked on Elliot's, always desperate for that link to him no matter how few hours they spent apart. She knew better than anyone that a lot of things could go terribly wrong when she least expected it. She never wanted to take a moment with him for granted.
Elliot moved forward, not understanding her silence. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Hey, it's ok. You're all right."
Returning the hug, she shook her head and tested her voice to see if it would work. "I'm ok. I just wanted to stop by and see everybody."
Elliot backed up, dropping his arms awkwardly back to his sides. Olivia thought his concern over what people would think of him hugging her actually made for a good cover, probably appearing to the observers that he wasn't comfortable with touching her. Although, if his embarrassed admissions were anything to go by, he'd made quite the ass out of himself while she was missing and thoroughly convinced everyone that they were sleeping together.
Munch butted back in, squeezing himself in front of Olivia until Elliot backed up to a more respectable distance. His hand fell on her shoulder, unaware of the soreness that lingered mainly because of her inability to stop moving it. "It's good to see you, Liv." He smiled warmly and held her eyes, the closest thing she figured he would get to a hug.
She nodded, ducking her head when she felt a blush rising to her face. "Thanks."
Fin was right beside her then, sneaking against her other side, sliding his arm around her waist after batting Munch's hand away. "Damn, Munch, her shoulder's busted, be careful."
Munch backed up, instantly sorry. "Lord, no, we don't want to break her again."
Fin was chuckling as he escorted Olivia to her desk. "Better watch out, partner, cause it's your turn to babysit Stabler if something happens to her."
Elliot ducked down while the blush spread across his face. "I've still got one good hand, Fin."
Staying perched beside her until she was seated, Fin winked at her. "Welcome back, baby." Then he joined Munch, politely hovering from a few feet away.
Lake nodded over at her, forever uncomfortable with the group dynamic. "It's nice to have you back."
She smiled, still mortified at the way they were all watching her. "I'm not back, not yet." Her eyes slid over, as they invariably did, to land on Elliot's. "I was lonely, so I decided to come by for a visit."
Though Elliot certainly knew better, he was doing his best to pretend they hadn't been joined at the hip, or slightly lower, since her return. "Damn, I was hoping you were here to save me from all this paperwork."
"If I'm going to have to help you with that, I'm never coming back." She grinned happily, relieved that they were still able to fall perfectly in step as partners, even if she knew their personal relationship would preclude their continuing partnership. What was theirs was theirs alone, and she didn't want to share it with anyone, not just yet.
There was a sudden, uneasy quiet just before the sound of Cragen's door opening. "What the hell is going on out here? Why's everyone just standing around?" Almost as soon as he and Huang emerged from his office, Cragen's eyes fell on Olivia. A moment later, his face lit up with an enormous grin. "If you're not a sight for sore eyes, Benson-" He nodded his head at Elliot. "I've about had it listening to him whine about the paperwork."
She laughed, appreciating that although he was making a big deal about her presence, he wasn't trying to embarrass her. "I'm not sure I can really help you out there."
Cragen's attention was split between Huang and Olivia. "Is this an early birthday present?"
Olivia shook her head. "I'm just here to visit." She glanced at Huang. "Unless someone thinks I'm well enough to work."
Cragen latched onto her words, just as she'd expected. "She looks good to me, doc."
Huang looked up then, glaring at Olivia for setting him up. He could hardly say she wasn't well, not without making himself look ridiculous. "We'll see."
Cragen shook his head, issued a threat for people to do something productive, and then went back to his office so he could pretend he didn't know that everyone was ignoring him. As soon as Huang said his goodbyes, Olivia grinned at Elliot. "That's not a no."
She could see the conflicting emotions written across his face. He was happy that she was well and getting something she wanted, but he didn't want her going back to work in a dangerous job where she could get hurt. He was thinking about how his fears had just come true; she knew it because she was thinking it too.
But he smiled, meeting her eyes. "You're good as new."
New. The word sent a shiver through her. Because there was so much new that she didn't want anymore. And because they'd briefly touched on Elliot's promise to Cragen that one of them was going to transfer. She'd been horrified to hear it, scared to death and miserable at the thought of someone else watching her partner's back, but she couldn't be angry at him, not when he'd explained that he was practically out of his mind with guilt and worry about her at the time.
She shook her head, refusing to let it sink in. Instead, she let her eyes fall on the stack of boxes along the wall, the collection seeming to have grown exponentially in her absence. "Have you been that busy?"
Elliot briefly glanced in the direction of her stare, but it was Fin that answered. "That would be your case."
There were probably around a hundred boxes piled up. "What? How?" She couldn't even pick a question. She'd never seen so many files devoted to one case. "No way. Even IAB wouldn't collect that much paper on one person."
Munch laughed as he opened one of the boxes, lifting out a handful of pictures. "Elliot must have neglected to mention his ex-wife's overzealous lawyer's obsessive-compulsive PI."
Her eyes moved to find Elliot's for verification, but he was staring at his computer, a fairly obvious sign that Munch was dead serious. "Pictures?"
Fin laughed, although it kind of sounded like a groan. "Thousands of them."
Horrified, Olivia looked at the three men. "Pictures of what?"
Elliot spoke up, but he didn't return her glance. "You, me, the kids, everywhere and everything we were or saw or did for about a month."
She kicked him under the desk, not wanting to draw attention to the gesture and only realizing belatedly that everyone was staring at them and therefore noticed it anyway. She didn't know what was in those pictures, but there had to be something or he would have told her about them. And he hadn't told her about a PI following her around either. "Why didn't you tell me?" Her eyes, her voice, were more accusing that questioning.
His eyes finally moved from his monitor, the same accusation mirrored back at her. "Why didn't you tell me you saw Marcus Avery?"
"Because it wasn't any of your business." She hadn't meant to snap at him. She was just angry that he had, as always, left out an important detail, one that she would have liked to have been prepared for before she faced her coworkers again.
But Elliot, as always, was more than happy to build a fight out of nothing at all. His eyes were dark and angry as he glared at her. "And my divorce isn't any of yours."
Olivia was glad she was already sitting down because she felt like she'd just been sucker punched. She could feel herself shaking as she pushed herself to her feet, praying like hell that no one would notice. Her voice was stronger than she expected. "No, it certainly isn't. So how the hell did I get involved in it?"
If Elliot realized she was shaking, he didn't show it. Nor did his anger soften as he looked at her. "Because apparently you and I spend too much time together."
She was definitely shaking, so hard she put her hand on her desk to steady herself as she leaned down to glare at her partner. "Conveniently, that's not going to be a problem anymore." As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them, knowing that, petty fights aside, she didn't ever want to distance herself from the man. But she couldn't help it and she couldn't voice her change of heart, her pride wouldn't allow it. Instead, she stormed toward the door, knowing full well that Elliot wasn't going to stop her and pretending that didn't hurt like hell.
Splintered.6
