"I'm sorry Liv," he says. "Talk about your mixed blessings," he continues. "You find out you have a niece named after you but then Simon goes to jail?"
"Yeah," she acknowledges. "All that pretty much happened in the same week."
Olivia's taken her meds, they've finished eating and they're continuing to get reacquainted.
"Anything else I should know," he asks. "You didn't go and get married or anything did you?"
Her first thought is of David and all that could've been between them. Her career has been great for her professional life but a serious drawback for her personal one.
She's suddenly quiet.
Elliot's seen the loss of color in her face and knows he's stuck his foot in his mouth for the millionth time since he's known her.
"What is it, what's wrong," he asks, edging closer to her in their out of the way booth.
"There was someone," she reflects, in a melancholy voice. "A genuinely good man but as usual, the job got in the way," she tells him with a sad smile.
"You deserve to be happy Liv. I'm sorry it didn't work out."
He places a warm hand over hers giving it a squeeze before letting it go.
"Me too," she rasps in response.
"Your meds are gonna' kick in soon," he advises her. "I should probably be getting you home."
"What do you mean you," she asks with raised eyebrows.
"You don't think I'm gonna let my favorite partner get into some stranger's cab loopy on painkillers now do you," he asks rhetorically as he gets the attention of a passing waiter for the check.
She's beginning to feel the effects of the drugs and if anyone can be tasked with getting her home safely, it's him.
"Ex-partner", she corrects. "And how did I become your favorite?"
"Simple," he says signing for his card. "You put up with me during Elliot Stabler: The Asshole Years," he quips, bringing a silly grin to her face.
"So basically I'm your favorite because I put up with you the longest," she asks with knitted eyebrows.
"Of course not," he tells her, gathering her bags. "But if I told you anything else you wouldn't believe me," he says grinning.
"You're so full of it," she tells him as they walk out together.
Elliot hails a taxi for them and opens the door for Olivia when it stops. She smiles to herself when he gives him her address from memory.
By the time they get to her apartment building, Olivia's head is resting comfortably against Elliot's shoulder.
He hates having to wake her once he feels the car roll to a stop.
"Liv we're here," he tells her lightly tapping her thigh. She's never been a heavy sleeper so she awakens immediately.
After the cabbie gets paid, they both get out. Olivia's still wobbly from her meds so Elliot holds the packages and her purse in one hand and puts an arm around her with the other trying to avoid her injured shoulder.
She leans against the wall as he uses the emergency key he still has to open her apartment door. Olivia debates in her mind whether to ask for it back. Maybe after she's thinking lucidly again.
Once inside he sets the packages on the floor next to her sofa as she lies down. He takes her boots off and removes the throw from the back of the couch to lay it over her.
"Did you just tuck me in," she asks with another silly grin on her face.
"Yeah-I guess I did," he tells her shrugging his shoulders. "I'm gonna go and let you get some rest."
"Okay," she says groggily. "Thanks El," she manages before her eyes slip shut.
He kisses her on the cheek before looking around for a pad and pen.
When Olivia wakes up several hours later she shakes the cobwebs out her head from the meds, puts her packages away and goes to the kitchen for her lunch leftovers.
She sees the note Elliot's left her, pinned to the refrigerator with a little magnet.
Liv,
I had fun today. Hope to see you again soon. My new number is at the bottom,
El
She's tempted to call him just to see if he'll actually pick up the phone. The last time she dialed a number hoping to hear his voice on the other end, she was repeatedly let down. First her calls went straight to voicemail, and then the number was disconnected altogether.
If it weren't for the leftovers she was munching on at the moment, she might think that hanging out with him today was just some medication induced hallucination.
Still.
He wouldn't leave her his number if he didn't want to hear from her. She could just send him a simple text message.
Olivia feels ridiculous. She's not sixteen years old for goodness sakes and he's not the star quarterback.
Thx 4 lunch. Hd a gud time 2. Liv.
There. A simple text message to an old friend.
Olivia finishes up the leftovers for dinner, cleans up and heads off to shower and change.
It's only a bit after 8pm but she's not going anywhere else so her pajamas are fair game.
When she goes back to the kitchen for a drink of water she notices her cell phone left on the counter has a new text message.
It's from Elliot.
Received - 7:50pm
Yr welcome. Wht r u doing 2mrw?
What is she doing tomorrow? Why is he so interested?
It's not like he hasn't known where she's worked and lived all this time. Even if he didn't want to come to the station to see her, neither her work nor her cell numbers have changed. There's only one way to find out why he's suddenly so intrigued about her days.
Nothing planned. Y?
If she still knows him the way that she always has, he'll want to take her to a baseball game or something, eat some hotdogs and drink some beer. He was always comfortably predictable that way.
Rain 2mrw. Movies at yr place?
Sitting together in the dark, on her sofa, watching several hours of movies. She has to say she didn't expect it from him.
K. I chuz flix. U pick food?
She was not going to endure a night of gratuitous explosions, car races or hometown boy turned sports hero by letting Elliot choose.
Sounds good. 7pm?
C u then.
Yeah. Then perhaps he'll tell her why it's taken nearly two years to get the desire to see her face.
She feels insane for going back and forth between saying "screw him" and wanting to see his.
Shit.
She had not thinking about him, down to a workable schedule. Initially she was thinking of him every minute, then every hour and then only every day. Most recently it's just been every once in awhile until someone says something that reminds her of him.
Olivia started introducing Nick as her partner instead of saying she was merely training him and she'd almost stopped comparing the two men in her head.
Thoughts like "Elliot wouldn't do it like that, Elliot wouldn't say it like that or Elliot wouldn't go about it that way", had finally stopped popping into her mind during interrogations or while talking to a witness or victim.
She's learned Nick's ways aren't wrong, they just aren't Elliot's and that that's okay.
She has also recognized that she'll never have to worry about that sexual tension with Nick nor he with her. The chemistry that existed between her and Elliot from day one just isn't there with Nick. It was one more thing that made it harder for her to let go of Elliot, but she had.
Though Nick may not feel it, Olivia is beginning to trust him. He's already proven himself by saving her life. And, they've already shared a secret by letting a dying Jillian Webster take a murder wrap for her daughter Hannah. He really is a good partner. He can be judgmental at times but she can live with that.
She'd moved on and then she got shot. Damn it. Now she's right back to square one, thinking about her ex-partner…constantly.
Olivia's plan was something like this: Get her stitches out next week, ride the desk for another three before having to re-qualify with her weapon and then back to business as usual. What's that quote about the best laid plans? Oh yeah, they often go astray. Such an understatement.
After watching mind numbing television for several hours and eating a pint of rum raisin at 2am she decides she's given him way too much of her time and heads to bed.
At 8am she's back up exchanging her pj's for something to run around Central Park in…guilt from the ice cream and all that.
She eats breakfast when she returns, showers and runs errands that include a follow-up appointment with her doctor. The day goes by quickly and before she knows it she hears two knocks at her front door.
"Hey," Elliot says. "I hope Chinese is still okay," he tells her as she steps back to let him in.
He apparently forgot that it was going to be raining because both he and the food are nearly soaked.
"Yeah it's fine," she tells him. "Did you're umbrella blow away or do you just like to live dangerously," she jabs, removing the Styrofoam containers from the bags.
"I didn't think it would rain that hard," he explains. "And I wanted to get the food from that place you like down the street."
"That's sweet but I don't want you to get the flu because I like The Wok's lo mien," she tells him as he stands in her kitchen. "I'll go get a towel and see what I have in the way of dry clothes," she adds, disappearing into her bedroom. "Don't drip on my carpet. Stay in the kitchen!"
By the time she returns Elliot's hung his leather bomber on a nearby hook to dry. He's taken off his boots and found some old newspaper to sit them on. He has his socks and shirt hanging over an arm waiting for her.
Olivia's walking, talking and looking at the clothes she hope fits and doesn't notice until she's standing directly in front of him.
He is in his stocking feet, the jeans he wears low on his waist are clinging to his thighs and his chest is bare.
She's seen him shirtless more than a few times. But, it's the first time her fingertips have itched to get his skin underneath them. He'd always been Elliot the partner or the married guy. Now he's the man making her heart beat faster and her mouth water. It must be the length of time it's been since last she saw him. Or at least that's what she's telling herself.
Luckily for her the synapses in her brain are firing fast enough to remember that they don't touch. Though with the way Elliot's eyes have gotten all glossy and his lips are slightly parted, maybe he's forgotten too.
"Here you go," she says, handing him the well worn NYPD t-shirt and sweat pants. "You can change in my bedroom."
"Thanks," he tells her as they exchange wet clothes for dry ones. "I'll be back in a sec," he continues, sliding past her in the small space and into the living room. She puts his wet things in her dryer before returning to the kitchen.
Olivia goes about throwing the saturated bags away, transferring some food into bowls and grabbing forks and drinks. Anything to remind herself that he's only here because she needs to know what he wants. He is the man that hurt her, that ignored her like she didn't matter, that caused her many tear filled nights.
Elliot returns to the living room looking much more comfortable and a lot less wet.
"Where can I put these to dry," he asks, standing on the other side of the counter with his wet jeans in hand.
"There's a small dryer just behind that door," she points out. "I've already put everything else in there."
"I know the shirt's yours," he begins, when he returns from the small laundry alcove. "But do I wanna know who the sweats belong to," he asks.
"Probably not," she answers smirking. "Let's eat," she says, grabbing a plate to sample the several menu items he's brought for her.
All her favorites are in the bag. She moans tasting the orange chicken, immediately garnering Elliot's attention. Perhaps she should move her stool further away from his.
"Good huh," he says, continuing to fork his beef and broccoli.
"Yeah," she responds, biting her bottom lip and nodding. "Very."
"Glad to think I still know you well enough to get something right," he tells her, quickly sliding his gaze to her lips before returning them to her eyes. But not before she's noticed.
Did he really just do that? Olivia has to get her head back into the game but the way he's acting is starting to unnerve her.
"So you come to see me in the hospital, you buy me lunch and…tuck me in," Olivia begins. "And here we are having dinner," she continues. "I've seen you more this last week and a half than I have in the last year and a half," she points out.
"And," he draws out, suddenly finding his food more interesting.
Olivia can tell he's nervous. About what she has no clue but she finds it intriguing to say the least.
"My point or rather my question is why now," she asks bluntly. "I'm just as easy to get in touch with today as I was when we were partners," she tells him. "You didn't contact me and you couldn't be bothered to return any of my messages."
She sees his wheels turning and gives him a minute to get things together.
"When Don called me…I had a feeling it was bad the minute I saw his number flash across my caller I.D.," he begins. Of course Cragen has his new number. "Then…he said you'd been shot," he continues. "If it wasn't a serious injury I knew he wouldn't have bothered."
"Okay, so you came to check on me. Fine," she tells him. "What else," she asks, feeling his explanation so far is lacking.
"By the time I'd gotten myself together, I felt like I'd waited too long and with-not returning your calls I didn't think you'd want to talk to…or see me," he begins. "But after that phone call I didn't care. I needed to see…that you were okay for myself."
Elliott lays his fork down and pushes his plate away. He turns on his stool to face her, his hands in his lap.
"I know it was selfish but if anything were to happen to you…the way things ended between us," he continues. "So…unfinished. I couldn't take that," he adds in a lower tone.
Olivia too pushes her plate away, facing him leaning one arm on the counter and resting the other in her lap.
"So this is you…what…trying to get the friendship we had back," she asks in a less than happy tone. "One that didn't have to end in the first place?"
"I-I realized that too late," he acknowledges. "I know I'm taking liberties with the fact that you even want me in your life," he continues. "And I know I have to earn your trust again. But I hope you decide to give me a chance."
Olivia's great at holding grudges and she can express anger just as well as he can, but she's considering letting months of pain trump the years of friendship they shared.
She has two choices: 1. Work on forgiving him and give him the chance he's asking for or, 2. Kick him out of her apartment and tell him she never wants to see his sorry ass again.
"When Cragen told me you put your papers in," she begins, clasping her hands in her lap. She's never discussed this with anyone. "I didn't take that well," she admits. "In fact I don't think I cried that hard when my mom died," she confesses in a broken voice.
Elliot reaches for her hand but she holds them up to stop him.
"Please let me finish," she tells him, taking a breath. "Though we had our issues, I was your partner for twelve years Elliot," she says. "Even if you thought I'd talk you out of it, I deserved to have that conversation," she continues. "I deserved better than to be ignored."
He squeezes his hands over his knees in an attempt to keep from reaching for her again. It's his first instinct when she's in pain. He just isn't used to being the cause.
"I'm s-
"I know you're sorry," Olivia finishes for him. "And I know how little we've said that to one another over the years so I appreciate it," she tells him as her eyes redden. "But it doesn't change the fact that you treated me like our partnership, our friendship didn't matter."
Olivia doesn't even think before the next words fall from her lips.
"You hurt me," she confesses as her chin trembles, letting him see the truth of it in her eyes.
Elliot stands then, pulling her body to his. He holds on to her fiercely, just as he did in the hospital corridor when Sonja was murdered. This time he knows she's not okay and it's his fault. He whispers apologies in her ear repeatedly.
For her part Olivia holds onto Elliot the same way, even if it is just with one arm. Her body shudders against his as she let's the tears flow unrestricted where usually she wouldn't want anyone seeing them. She couldn't help but go when he pulled her into him. As good as David was to her, for her…she needed this.
She doesn't know what kind of sessions he sat through but, having Elliot there to confess how she felt about his unexpected departure is Olivia's therapy.
"What can I do Liv," he rasps, with his cheek against hers. "I broke this," he begins, clearly affected by the situation. "Please tell me how to fix it."
Olivia loosens her hold on him, and then releases him completely. Her eyes are downcast. She doesn't know what to tell him, doesn't know what will help her forgive him. Sincerely, she thought she had, that she was done crying. Then she saw him and it was a reminder that she has a new partner and Elliot's absence is the reason.
He. Left.
Elliot takes her pulling away from him as rejection. He puts one hand on his hip and rubs his forehead with the other.
"I'm gonna' go then," he tells her, stepping away from the counter. "I'll just get my clothes later," he adds, heading for the door.
And suddenly Olivia feels like if she lets him walk out, she'll likely never see him again. She's still hurt, still angry but that is not what she wants. Elliot is clearly in just as much pain as she is. It has to mean something.
"El wait," she says before clearing her throat, as he puts on his jacket. "There's all this food and…I don't really want to watch these movies alone," she tells him.
"Are you sure," he asks with raised eyebrows. Elliot holds his breath waiting for what seems an eternity to him before she answers.
"Yeah," Olivia says, meeting his eyes giving him a small smile. "They're horror movies."
He slowly exhales, never taking his eyes off hers reflecting her smile as they return to the kitchen.
They eat in silence for the most part. Every now and again they say how good something is or give a side glance to one another. When they're done eating he helps her clean up before they retire to the sofa.
"So what am I gonna be having nightmares about," he begins. "Chainsaw wielding maniac, the undead walking the earth or some homicidal aliens," he asks.
Olivia shakes her head at how well they still know one another. Maybe they haven't changed as much as she'd originally thought.
"You'll see," she tells him, giving him no clues.
They sit a comfortable distance away from another as Olivia cuts the lights and the beginning credits appear on screen.
"Thank you," he tells her, as they get comfortable.
She looks over at him, giving him a small grin.
"Gotta start somewhere," she says, grabbing the remote control.
"Kick me out when you get tired," he tells her, realizing she'd taken her meds during dinner.
"You're not gonna tuck me in again," she asks, a combination of sleepiness and mirth in her voice.
"Hey don't pretend you didn't enjoy it," Elliot tells her. "I'm just glad I didn't have to read Goodnight Moon eight-hundred times before you fell asleep," he informs her reminded of times with his children.
"Mmm," she responds, noncommittally.
They've both been up for hours. Him with a morning routine with Eli and her with an early workout and errands. Neither of them makes it far into the opening scenes before sleep claims them.
Minutes turn into hours and before they realize it, the sun is creeping up over the horizon to bathe Olivia's living room in an orange glow.
It's a new day.
Throughout the evening Elliot and Olivia have moved. Lying on her back, the morning sunlight has awakened her. The television reflects a blue screen she wants to turn off but can't. As she becomes more aware Olivia realizes that Elliot is the reason.
His head is lying on her lower stomach; one hand is beneath her lower back while the other is resting against her upper thigh.
Olivia's legs seemed to have parted of their own accord to accommodate him. She's awakened in many different positions in her adult life. And normally a position such as this would constitute being part of "the morning after". Only, they didn't have a "night before".
Yet spending the night like this, sharing how he felt when Cragen told him she was shot and how she felt when he left, was more intimate than falling in bed in some lust filled frenzy of lips, sweat and limbs.
Usually when she falls asleep on her sofa she has to grab the blanket from the back of it to keep warm. Last night thanks to Elliot's body heat, she didn't need to. Waking up like this leaves her feeling protected, safe, and cared for.
Olivia takes a hand and rubs the side of his head and then the stubble that has grown over night to wake him.
"Morning," he says, looking up at her. "You were supposed to kick me out when you got too sleepy," he reminds her.
"Maybe I wanted you to stay," she tells him, rubbing her thumb against his face again. "So you could make me breakfast," she adds, smirking down at him.
He shakes his head at her, laughing as he retracts himself to sit up. Neither of them comments on the position they were in upon waking.
"As much as I'd love to," he begins. "I have to get Eli," he explains.
The two get up from the sofa, stretching and yawning. Olivia retrieves his clothes from her dryer handing them to him to change. He comes out of her bedroom minutes later.
"I left the shirt and sweats in your hamper," he informs. "I appreciate you loaning them to me."
"You're welcome," she says, standing from the sofa as he returns. He dons his shoes then jacket once he makes it to her front door. Olivia meets him there to walk him out.
"Thanks for the Chinese," she tells him. "It was good," she adds, standing there awkwardly as if ending a first date.
"Thank you for listening," Elliot says. "And letting me stay," he adds, putting a hand on her shoulder before leaning in and placing a chaste kiss to her cheek.
"You're welcome," Olivia says, as he opens the door. "I'll see you later."
Elliot nods and gives her a smile as he leaves. She feels it then.
They haven't just changed as individuals. How they are with one another seems to have shifted as well.
Maybe…