Quote Prompt #20: "Happiness is a form of courage." — American proverb
Pursuit of Happiness
~oOo~
"Olivia…" Lindstrom welcomed her into the office. "I'd been expecting to see you after the shooting. How are you doing?"
How was she doing, that was a question she wasn't prepared to answer, and yet, at the same time, it's why she was here. At some time, she was going to have to face it.
"I'm…better." The stiffness of both her answer and her movements belied the words, but he let it go for the moment.
He nodded, watching as she stretched her legs out in front of her to balance her weight on her right hip. "Tell me how it went down."
He was letting her off easy. Letting her go with facts rather than emotions, and she recited them as dispassionately as she would in an IAB interview room or a witness stand.
Pursed her lips, she looked up at the ceiling before answering. "We were at a diner in Ohio. He came in with canisters of bear spray. Distracted everyone. I tried to get the draw on him, but he was faster. Elliot had to carry me out."
There it was. Short. Sweet. To the point.
"So, Elliot was there, too," Lindstrom said. "How was it working with him again?"
Of all the threads in her story she had expected him to pick up. Elliot.
She leaned back against the couch and then quickly sat back up only to rise and begin pacing. "It was…so good. It was right. Almost too right, like old times."
"Almost too right…" he repeated her words back to her. "How can things be too right, Olivia?"
Things can be too right when they scare her. Things can be too right when she wants them too much. Things can be too right when she feels his voice as much as she feels his touch. Things can be too right.
She won't tell him that though.
Instead she turned, leaning against the window sill in Lindstrom's office. "Do you know he said I was afraid of normalcy? Afraid of normalcy…" she repeated. "Like he's normal." She shook her head wryly.
She could still remember the way the air between them crackled during the conversation, the rich undercurrent that fed them and yet left them hungry.
"Was that before or after you were shot?" Lindstrom asked, and she nodded in appreciation at his skill at returning the conversation to the original subject.
"Before," she said simply, and then smiled. "He wouldn't let it go though–brought it up a few times." She ran her hand down the front of her slacks, massaging the point of impact.
Lindstrom watched her, waiting to be sure she was comfortable before pushing forward. "He seems to be good at getting under your skin."
"Twenty five years, yeah, he knows all my buttons."
The effortlessness with which he broke the E off. The compass. And then his subsequent disappearance. Her hand went up to her collar tracing the chain of the necklace.
"You do have quite the history," Lindstrom observed, blandly, and then once again pushed forward. "Do you think that changed your reaction to the shooting?"
She bit back a million snarky retorts, each more bitter than the one before. Instead, she told the truth. "I've seen him shot before, but this is the first time he saw me get hit. And then a few days later he lost another one of his men. It was a lot for him."
"For him," Lindstrom repeated, and then leveled his piercing blue gaze at her. "But what about you, Olivia?"
What about her?
"I've been hurt on the job before," she answered simply. Lindstrom knew as much. Hell, he saw firsthand what Lewis had put her through.
"You're deflecting, Olivia." He pushed back for the first time in the appointment, and it took all her composure not to react to the word deflecting. "How did you feel when you were shot?"
She bit her lips, swallowed hard, met his eyes and answered him. "I was fucking angry." It came out in a harsh whisper. "I was so fucking angry."
Even thinking of it now brought the metallic taste of adrenaline back to her mouth, brought the crushing fear and anger back, brought the memory of her hands and Elliots entwined a.
He nodded in approval and sympathy. "That's good, Olivia. That's good. That's a really normal reaction."
She looked away, thinking a bit before speaking. "Y'know, I've always hesitated before shooting. Always. I didn't this time. I just took Elliot's arm and I aimed."
She licked her lips and swallowed, once again flooded with all the sensory memories. The solidness of him under her, the strong steady thrum of his pulse under her fingers, the way he simply let her move his arm, and then the way she simply let him carry her out. The way it felt right–too right–in his arms.
"So you both shot him–" It came out somewhere between a question and an observation, and Olivia again had to appreciate Lindstrom's non-judgmental approach. She'd been on the other side of this enough, but it was still hard to let her guard down, and he helped.
She nodded. "Yes. I dropped my gun when I was shot. But Elliot couldn't see–"
"So you worked together," Lindstrom finished for her. "That's really impressive teamwork."
She nodded and bit her lips again as Lindstrom asked, "Have you talked since then? Have you let him know how you felt?"
She shook her head. Exhaling sharply. Talk with Elliot? No that would require, well, more than a few seconds of borrowed time in an urgent care or her office. It would require him to stay in one place for more than five or six months at a time.
"No," she answered simply. "He left again–had to go back undercover. But at least this time he told me." She reached up, fingering the pendant at her neck. "And he gave me a present before he left."
Lindstrom smiled. "Yes. I noticed your new necklace. I'm assuming that was the gift."
It was more than a gift; it was a declaration. Of what, she wasn't sure. That was something else that needed to be discussed–at some point. But that was too complicated even for someone she was paying 180 an hour to untangle.
"It's a compass," she explained. "He said it's supposed to lead me to happiness." She angled the pendant to look at it.
He nodded. "I wonder, Olivia," Lindstrom spoke more slowly than normal, "if your happiness might be found with Elliot." Before she could respond, he continued. "And do you think you would've been quite as angry if you hadn't been with Elliot."
"Yeah…" she said, pursing her lips. "Yeah," she repeated, frustrated at her lack of eloquence.
"I'll see you next week, Olivia?" he asked. "Think about what we talked about."
"I will," she promised. She wasn't sure she would be able to think of much else. The line between anger and happiness and where Elliot fell on it was something of a preoccupation of late.
Where the fuck was he anyway?
~oOo~
She sighed, picking up and skimming the jacket of McGrath's fourth suggestion for Muncy's replacement. So much for having her own hiring authority. She couldn't deal with the illusion of control.
She was grateful that her sergeant chose that moment to interrupt. "You got a minute, Cap?"
"For you?" She took her glasses off and smiled. "I'll find five. What's on your mind, Fin?"
He closed the door and took a seat. "You know what I've always liked about our relationship?"
She suddenly realized that even if she wasn't sitting, Fin was about to put her in the hot seat and with a quirk of our lips asked, "Our unwavering respect for each others' mutual boundaries?"
He chuckled softly, but pushed forward–unafraid. "Still. You and Elliot have been through some stuff."
"Kinda like you and Phoebe," Olivia countered with a level of quiet deliberateness. He was treading on dangerous territory, but it wasn't the first time, and he always stayed on the right side of the line. It was–as he'd said–what made their relationship work.
"Kinda like." He nodded in acknowledgment. "You know he's madly in love with you. Pretty sure he was even before he left."
She sighed. "Fin…" It was a warning. He was treading dangerously close to the line that they'd both silently agreed would never be crossed.
"I know." He held up his hands in supplication. "Hear me out though–Elliot's a dumbass. I'll be the first one to say it. But he's a dumbass who learns from his mistakes, which is more than I can say for you."
She looked at him with the same unflinching stare she would use on her son. "Excuse me?" Fin's gossiping and meddling was what had brought Elliot back to Manhattan and into her life.
Unlike Noah, Fin did not cow. "Look, I don't know if you're being stubborn or scared or what, but stop punishing him."
"Wow…" She shook her head. "Fin…" Anyone else would've already been banished from her office, let alone the precinct, and he knew it.
"I know; I know." He again tried to placate her. "All I'm saying is…"
She cut him off. "He's undercover, Fin. Undercover and out of contact. I'm not punishing him; I'm not avoiding him; and I'm not discussing this with you anymore."
He blinked, realizing that he'd misread the situation, but he wasn't willing to let it go quite yet. "Do you want me to see what I can find out?"
She once again tried to silence him with a look, but he once again pushed forward. "I just want you to be happy, Liv." When she didn't respond, he took a chance. "I still know some people; I can ask some questions."
"Goodbye, Fin," she said with exasperation, and he knew he'd overstayed his welcome. She sank heavily into her chair, weariness outweighing her pain in this moment.
~oOo~
It was three days later that Jorge stopped her in the lobby. "Ms. Benson, you have a delivery. Big box from Roger's Flowers."
Flowers.
He'd sent her flowers. Two thoughts ran through her mind simultaneously. The first being that she couldn't believe that Elliot would risk his cover to send her flowers, and the second being that without a doubt she was going to kill Fin.
"Thank you, Jorge." She took the florist's box from the doorman with a warm smile and turned to her son, "Noah, can you get the mail and meet me at the elevator?"
"Okay!" he agreed readily, and she felt her heart swell easily. Time with Noah was far too precious. She took pride in the young man he was becoming, but she also knew how lucky she was to even have him.
"Someone sent you flowers?" The questions began the minute they were in the elevator. "Was it Elliot?"
Olivia nodded simply. "Probably. I haven't had a chance to read the card yet." She'd always promised herself she wouldn't shy away from anything related to sex or romance if she wanted her son to feel comfortable talking to her.
"Are you dating?" he asked as they stepped off the elevator.
"You're just full of questions tonight; aren't you?" She passed him the box to hold while she unlocked the door. "We haven't talked about dating yet."
"You know," Noah said, passing the box back to her. "If you did want to date him, I'd be okay with that."
She set the box on the counter and opened her arms up to him. "You know, I am so proud of you." She looked down at him. "Chinese or Pizza?"
"Both?" he asked hopefully.
She laughed and ruffled his hair. "Don't push your luck, mister!"
"Chinese!" he said. "Orange chicken, egg rolls, and wonton soup!"
She smiled. "You got it! Go start your homework while I order."
The unopened florist box was like a beacon on the counter. It wasn't that she was avoiding it; it was just that there was an order to these things. Order the food, ensure that Noah started his homework, and then maybe see whether she could take a few minutes to herself and her own love life.
Content that the Chinese order had been sent, she finally took a few minutes to herself to open the florist's box. Lifting the lid revealed a half dozen stargazer lilies. The card was simple, block print, unsigned. I'D HAVE SENT ROSES, BUT I WAS AFRAID THEY WERE TOO NORMAL.
Elliot.
They were obviously from him. And the warmth that spread through her as she looked for a vase that she didn't have. Why the fuck didn't she have a vase?
Digging a Mason jar out of the cupboard, she haphazardly prepared the lilies. A normal person would be prepared to receive flowers; she used a pair of utility scissors and a mason jar. Still, they were beautiful, the smell was heavenly, and the sentiment behind them hadn't escaped her. She traced the edge of the petals lightly and smiled in private gratitude.
As she was getting ready to toss the box in the garbage something stopped her. The weight was off. Removing the lid, she ran her fingers along the base of the box. There it was. A false bottom. She grabbed a knife from the block and began cutting.
She pulled out a plastic bag–and unwrapping it–found a pay-as-you-go phone and several cards to add money to it. There was also a sticky note, with instructions in block print.
Keep it charged. I'll text before I call. Don't answer at home.
A burner phone. He'd sent her a fucking burner phone. It was as brilliant as it was crazy. She grabbed the scissors she'd used on the flowers to try to work her way through the ridiculous plastic packaging, wondering just how long it would be to charge and just how soon it'd be before he'd call.
~oOo~
She should be sleeping. It was past 10 and she had CompStat in the morning. But the blue light of the burner phone was like a lighthouse drawing her from the deep ocean of sleep back to the restless rocks of the unknown. She knew she should just flip the phone ove and pop a few melatonin, but she couldn't. It had been two days since the flowers arrived, and she wanted–needed–to hear from him, more than she was willing to admit to herself.
She rolled over, punching the pillow and turning it to the cold side, trying to fall asleep by sheer force of will, when there was an unmistakable buzz.
She picked it up.
U up?
Yes, give me a few minutes to put my shoes on and grab my keys?
K
She left a quick–just in case–note for Noah and slipped quietly out the door, walking a few blocks away to a quiet park.
She'd just found a bench when the phone buzzed again. She answered on the second ring.
"Hello?"
"Liv–" Her name. A single syllable, and she felt goosebumps rise on her arms despite the warm evening.
"Yeah," she answered. "El." She could hear dogs barking in the background. "Where are you?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He sighed. "How are you recovering?"
She twisted the pendant around her finger before answering. "Good," she said, and then added, "better. How are you?" she turned it back to him. "Are you okay? Safe?" she asked deliberately.
"I'm keeping out of trouble," he said, and she wondered exactly what that meant, what he was leaving unsaid, and knowing she couldn't ask.
They sat in silence somehow still enjoying each others' company despite the miles between them. Elliot finally broke the silence. "Did you like the flowers?"
She smiled. "I did," she answered, earnestly. "So much, and my apartment has never smelled better."
"I'm glad." The husky edge to his voice reverberated all the way through to her toes, and it suddenly occurred to her that it had been way too long since she'd had an orgasm that hadn't come from AA batteries.
"You know," she began, deciding to tread into dangerous territory, so see what the compass might bring. "Noah asked if we were dating."
"Hmmm…" he murmured and again his voice plucked her soul like a bowstring. "What did you tell him?"
She traced her fingers along the texture of the bench. "The truth." She took a breath and continued. "That we haven't talked about it."
"Why don't we?" She could almost see the schoolboy rakishness in his expression as he asked it.
Licking her lips, she tasted the words, before repeating them back to him, emphasizing each word. "Why…don't…we?"
"When I get back," he began, "would you be interested in seeing me…exclusively?"
Exclusively.
She moved so that she was sitting on the table, her feet on the seat. Whatever dogs there were, wherever he was, continued to bark in the background.
Exclusively.
Leave it to Elliot to add that entirely unnecessary and yet somehow completely unexpected qualifier. She'd always filed him away in an 'exclusive' folder even when she had no claim to.
"Yes–" She slid a fingernail under a loose edge of trim on the table. "I would."
"Good." The word came through on a warm breath that stole hers from her lungs. There was another sudden explosive round of barking. "Look, I've gotta–"
"I understand." She tried to smooth down the rough edge of the trim that she'd been playing with. "Please be careful."
The dogs continued to bark as he promised, "I will. I'll try to call you again in a few days."
"I'll look forward to it," she whispered.
"Me too," he murmured before the line went silent. She sat there, letting the night and the echo of his words envelope her for moment, unwilling to move and break the moment yet.
She could feel the tug between them, that thread that had linked them from the moment she'd walked into the 1-6, the thread that had bound them even when he was an ocean away, the thread that had made her beg for her life in the face of Lewis' barbarism, the thread that lead her to respond to the 10-13 instead of show up at her own ceremony.
It was that thread that always pulled her back any time she got too close to anyone else, that thread that was so tightly linked to the word exclusively. It was that thread now that she clung to as she pushed off the table and walked back to her apartment, that thread that she hoped would assure her that all was well. CompStat was going to come way too early, and she doubted she was going to sleep at all.
~oOo~
In the three days since they'd spoken, she'd pulled together every little piece of information she could gather. The number came from a 302 area code, the dogs in the background. She'd quickly figured out that 302 was Delaware, which–despite being only 2500 square miles—did not seem to be big enough to accommodate whatever Elliot could possibly be doing undercover.
Not with the dogs barking and not with the passing rumble of motors she also thought she heard.
Noah had left for his three week upstate dance camp that morning, and she found herself adrift. She was grateful then, that the burner phone buzzed.
She picked it up and immediately smiled.
Hi
Hi!
Can U talk
Give me 10 minutes?
K
Can't wait.
Me 2
His use of text shorthand and lack of punctuation was somehow endearing, somehow him. She grabbed her keys and headed out the door, back in the direction of the park. It was only her second phone call with him, and already it had become a tradition.
She sat on the table and watched some teens playing basketball under the twilight while waiting for Elliot's call.
The phone buzzed and she didn't even wait this time before answering. "El . . ."
"Liv–
"How are you?" They asked it at the same time, and then laughed.
He let her go first. "Promise me you're not taking any unnecessary risks. I worry about you."
"I'm fine." He was breathing heavily, and she could hear a rhythmic thumping. He was digging and must have had her on some sort of bluetooth earpiece. "It can be–" he took another deep breath, "intense. But I'm hoping it'll be over soon. I'm doing my best just to keep my head low and stay out of trouble."
"What about you?" he asked with a pause to the background noise.
She could picture him leaning against the shovel as he asked it, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips and a beanie cocked rakishly over his head. "Good," she smiled as she said it. "I put Noah on the bus to dance camp this morning. He'll be there for the next three weeks."
"Speaking of Noah," Elliot began. "There's something I'm hoping to talk to you about."
She sat up a little taller. "About Noah?"
"Yeah, I thought maybe I could get him that puppy he's been wanting." He paused. "If you're okay with it."
"A puppy?" Noah had left hints here and there, but she'd no idea that he was as serious as Elliot seemed to think. And Elliot wanted to give it to him. "You know he likes you already; you don't need to buy his affection with a puppy." Elliot wanted to give her son a puppy.
She tried to imagine a puppy in her apartment. She tried to imagine a puppy in her life. This mattered to Noah, and apparently to Elliot. "It'll be good for him," Elliot broke into her musing. "Teach him responsibility and commitment; give him something to love and care for."
"El…" she'd started to demur when there was an explosion of voices in the background of the call.
"I'm gonna have to go," he said. "Just…think about it?" The voices grew closer, angrier and he spoke with more deliberation. "Yeah, great. I'll talk to you later, ma. I love you." And the phone went dead.
That the last words she heard before he hung up were "I love you," and that they were entirely unnecessary to his cover were going to keep her up for the rest of the night.
~oOo~
She was becoming an expert at compartmentalization, carefully dividing her time between her days–the consummate captain, the cool commanding presence. And then exclusively Elliot's on the burner phone. She'd begun trying to predict the pattern to his calls, whether they would come on day three or day four.
A month since he'd left, two weeks since he'd begun calling, and three days since their last conversation. She would keep the phone on the nightstand tonight, in case he texted.
Three days, just as she'd expected. She quickly traded texts with him–sending the final exchange before she could even second guess the emoji. It meant nothing; it was an image, not a hieroglyph.
sry about the other nite
Don't mention it! As long as you're safe! Did you want to talk?
yes do you need a few mins?
Just gimme 10! 3
It was drizzly, and she pulled on a jacket for the walk, taking cover under a pavilion instead of her regular bench.
"Hi…" She was leaning against a pillar, her eyes closed, just trying to imagine him and where he was.
"Hi," he replied.
The edge to his voice was deeper, and thicker. "You sound tired." She wished she could reach through the phone and just touch him. The lack of tactile reassurance between them was stretching the thread thin, pulling it taut.
"It's hard," he admitted, and she breathed, waiting to see if he was going to say anything else or if she was going to have to draw it out. "I sometimes wonder if I'm losing part of my soul."
"El–" Just hearing him ask the question ripped a little part of her own soul out, and her hand went up to the necklace reaching for a part of him. "I've seen you go under, and I've seen you come back. Stronger, and more you. You're doing this because you want justice, and if you ever think you're losing your soul, I want you to look into my eyes or my son's eyes, or your kids' eyes and then you'll know. You can do this, El."
She could hear traffic rush by in the background–motors revving and the hissing squelch of air brakes–as she waited for him to say something. "I know," he murmured. "Just needed the reminder."
"Anytime." She fought to keep her voice from breaking.
"How are you?" He changed the subject. "How's Noah enjoying camp?"
She laughed. "Well enough that he hasn't reached out yet! But it's only been a few days. The camp's got a great website with pictures and everything! It'll all culminate in a performance, and I'll drive up to get to see him at the end."
"That sounds fantastic," the quiet softness in his voice. "You know you've done a great job with him, Liv."
She turned her back to the drizzle and rested against the railing, his compliment threatened to melt her. It was unnerving–the way he dropped compliments like stray change–as though it was the most natural thing in the world, as though she were somehow deserving of them. "Thank you." She found herself gripping and releasing the railing, searching for some semblance of stability.
"How is the case going otherwise?" she asked, trying to ground herself in anything other than the details of her life.
"It's good; I'm hoping we'll be done soon. It's up to the Feds at this point." The highway noises punctuated his sentence.
"The Feds," she said. "It is pretty big then…"
"Yeah," he confirmed. "Hey, Liv…" he began, and she felt her heart skip a beat as she waited for him to conclude the thought. "About Noah's puppy."
The puppy. A puppy on a fifteenth floor apartment. A puppy that would need training and housebreaking and all sorts of love and attention. A puppy that was somehow more than a whim. A puppy that was a commitment.
"I'm still thinking about it." A classic non-answer.
A pause before he replied. "Okay." And then. "Liv, I…miss you."
"You, too." She let the conversation drift, but it was true. She did miss him. "I'll talk to you soon, El."
~oOo~
"Noah wants a puppy." Olivia was back on Lindstrom's couch. "A puppy," she repeated.
"And you do not," her therapist inferred.
She sighed. "No."
"Puppies are a commitment," he said. "Certainly not something to just get on a whim."
She shook her head. "No…" she tucked her legs up under her. "It requires a lot of careful thought."
"This is about more than a puppy; isn't it?" Lindstrom said.
Olivia sighed again. "It's possible this is about more than a puppy." She took a breath before admitting, "I've been talking to Elliot."
"You've been talking to Elliot?" He seemed surprised, but measured it. "I thought he was undercover."
Olivia smiled tightly. "He sent me a burner phone. We talk every few days. It was his idea to get Noah the puppy."
"It sounds like he's making a major effort to make both you and your son happy." Lindstrom observed.
She shook her head. "Yes, but if that were the case, he wouldn't want to give my son a puppy. That's not necessarily going to make me happy."
"Isn't it?" Lindstrom asked. "Olivia Benson, you would move heaven and earth to make your son happy and safe. Isn't it why you had Elliot drive him back from Woodstock–you knew there was no one else that would keep him more safe? Sure, a puppy is disruptive, for a little bit, but a puppy's going to make Noah happy, and I've never seen you shy away from anything that would make your son happy before."
He paused and delivered the lethal blow. "You said at the last appointment that Elliot accused you of being afraid of normalcy. A puppy is a pretty normal thing to have. It's also a pretty normal thing for someone that thinks of himself as a father to give to a son–a rather permanent sign."
When Noah was a toddler, a lot of the parenting books used to warn about the big feelings, and here she was confronting the very same in her own therapist's office. She reached wordlessly for the box of tissues. She wasn't crying; she wasn't even sure she was going to cry, but she wanted to be ready for the possibility at this point. "I know," she said. "I know," she repeated.
"Okay." Lindstrom looked at her deliberately. "We've established that Elliot isn't going anywhere. And I think you and I both know that Noah is up to the responsibility of a puppy and that it'll make him happy, and that you're the kind of mother that wants her son to be happy." He paused to ensure Olivia was watching her before continuing. "You have also admitted to some very deep feelings for Elliot that it seems he might reciprocate. It all sounds like a very nice scenario, so why don't you think you deserve it?"
He didn't give her a chance to answer, instead doing it for her. "Your mother was a liar, and you're more than your genetics–and certainly more than what happened to you. Don't you say that to everyone that walks through your office door?"
"You've got a lot of nerve quoting my own advice back to me." Oliva dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the tissue, smiling wetly at him. "I don't know how to do this."
"There's not a manual for it, Olivia." He smiled. "You just gotta keep trying. And think about the puppy."
"I'll send you the cleaning bill," she said over her shoulder on the way out.
~oOo~
She was glad her appointment was at the end of the day. It gave her an excuse to simply pick up her laptop and go back to her apartment and order takeout rather than go back to the office.
She'd packed up the leftovers and poured a tall glass of rosé to look at that day's photos from the parents only portal on the camp's website. She found herself smiling back at Noah's toothy grin, wanting to reach through the screen to smooth his curls. He'd grown up so much this year, but he was still her little boy, and she wanted to keep him that way just a tiny bit longer.
She closed the laptop and took another sip of her wine, replaying the conversation with Elliot from the night before. He was stronger than he'd known, he'd always been able to fight his way back from the darkness, always been able to find his way back to the light. He'd had the normalcy, the family, all of it. She'd only had the darkness.
She'd never been afraid of the dark. She knew what the dark was and had spent her life fighting the creatures that lived there. It was the light that scared her, and she knew what happened when she flew too close to the sun; you got burned–and she was afraid of what would happen to those that were too close to her.
Solemnly she got ready for bed.
"Alexa," she instructed. "Turn out lights."
When the burner phone buzzed, she wasn't able to handle it. Not yet.
U free
I'm sorry. Tonight won't work.
K try again soon
There was a small part of her that missed the call, but she just wasn't ready. She hoped he was okay. She hoped she wouldn't regret this.
~oOo~
The three days until he reached out again ate at her. She found herself filling her evenings with cleaning. Piles of unworn, unwanted, and unneeded clothes littered her bedroom floor, with similar piles of long-since-outgrown woefully outworn clothing of Noah.
A trip to Goodwill later, and she then found herself fully reorganizing the kitchen. Nothing fit. Nothing belonged. But a few trips to The Container Store and she had it all sorted, even the sugar.
On day three she was scrubbing her toilets. She knew she was punishing herself. She needed to punish herself.
In cutoffs and a stained t-shirt, she continued to scrub the bathroom, breaking a sweat, adding to the existing stains, and adding an additional hole under the armpit.
And then the phone buzzed.
Hi
Hi
Now better
Yes, let me just head out. Sorry about last time.
Don't worry abt it talk soon
Though it was the height of summer, she still found herself cooling down the minute she stepped outside.
"Hi…" She couldn't keep the breathiness out of her voice as she answered the phone.
"Liv," he answered. "You sound a little…" he seemed to be looking for the right word, "rushed."
She took her spot atop the table before answering him. "I was cleaning the bathroom when you called."
"Cleaning…" he echoed
She nudged her toe against the edge of the bench. "Try not to sound so surprised."
"Touché," he murmured, and she could once again imagine the mocking delight in his eyes as he said it. "What else have you been up to?"
"Well…" she said, "tomorrow, I have to start packing for Noah's final camp performance."
There was silence on the other end of the line, and it struck her.
Silence.
No dogs. No highway noises. No digging.
"You're inside tonight…" she observed.
More silence. "Crappy motel," he murmured. "One in a long string of 'em." It once again left her wondering just where and just what it was up to.
"Magic fingers?" she asked, reaching out, plucking at that string between them–finding safety in the distance and yet somehow also needing to pull him just a little bit closer.
Silence, and then a cheap air conditioner kicked on. "Rather wait 'til I'm back with you, Liv."
"El…" she breathed his name, tracing the holes in the table. This was increasingly real, and increasingly frightening. "I do want this."
"I know," he whispered back into the phone.
"I'm scared," the admission escaped her before she realized it.
"I'm not going anywhere, Liv." It was a reassurance and a promise and she clung to it.
A puppy. A necklace. Happiness. "I know." She believed it of him. Now she just needed to believe it of herself. "I…I want this to work, El."
She was grateful for the distance, grateful he wasn't there to look into her soul the way he so often did. "It will," he said, and the warmth in his voice was like a kiss, lingering over her earlobe. "When do you leave to pick up Noah?"
"Day after tomorrow," she said. "I'll be on the road for a few hours and then get a tour of the camp, hang out with the other parents, and then we'll watch the performances. We're gonna stop by the McCanns' on the way back."
He chuckled. "Lucky you. Do you need me to call and rescue you while you're there?"
"You'd do that for me?" She laughed, happier to be on less dangerous ground.
"I'll do my best," he promised, and she was struck by how earnestly and carefully he'd worded it. He wasn't going to let her down, but he was damned well going to try.
"Thank you," she answered. "El. Thank you."
"Of course, he whispered. "I should let you go. I'll talk with you in a few days."
~oOo~
"Mom!" Noah launched himself into her arms, and she returned his hug with equal enthusiasm.
Pushing back, she grinned. "Noah! Let me get a look at you." She pushed his curls back, and framed his face in her palms, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I swear you've grown half an inch since the last time I saw you."
"Mooooom…" He rolled his eyes and made a show of trying to wipe the kiss away.
She laughed. "Fine, Mister 'Too Cool For His Mother'. Show me around the place before you have to be on stage." She pulled her phone out, threatening him with it. "And I'm going to take pictures too!"
Even as she held it, her mind went to the fact that locked in her car there was another phone. She'd thought about bringing it with her, but ultimately decided against the potential risk and distraction. Today was about Noah.
And, as much as he tried to play it cool, he also relished the attention, sprinting from place to place and beaming at her reaction with each destination. Soon, the bell ran with an announcement that it was time for the campers to prepare for the performance and the guests to make their way to the audience.
He came alive on the stage. There was no other way to put it. She could sit back, and watch him live like this and just know that this is where he was meant to be. She had no idea if this is what was going to do for the rest of his life, but she was glad that they'd found where he belonged for the summer.
He ran back into the audience after the performance, this time no longer too cool to embrace her, and she returned it. "I am so proud of you!" She smoothed his hair, squeezed him again and then wrinkled her nose exaggeratedly. "I love you, but you smell like a teenage boy! Go hit the showers so we can get on the road to the McCanns'. I'll load the car."
Three weeks' worth of spandex and dance shoes were heavier than she expected, and Noah's shower was a lot shorter than she would've expected, so they were quickly on the road.
"What are you and Connor going to do?" she asked, dividing her attention between the navigation system, the road and her son.
"I don't know." He shrugged. "Probably some video games. Hang out in the backyard. Ride his scooters. Stuff."
She smiled and squeezed his knee. "Stuff. Very specific."
~oOo~
She wouldn't have been able to sleep in the McCanns' guest room even if she hadn't been hoping for a text from Elliot. It was pristine, almost as if it was more the idea of a guest room than something intended to actually ensure people were comfortable.
Lace trimmed bedspread, wallpaper, rag rugs, and an assortment of antique apothecary bottles: The entire room was as much an eclectic collection as the rest of the house, and she did not fit. In the least. Strange though, that Noah did. As did Elliot.
~oOo~
"You sure you don't want any more French toast, Olivia?" Ginny McCann held up the platter.
Olivia raised her hands in surrender. "Please, I couldn't eat another bite, and Noah and I have to get on the road. We've got a long drive ahead of us, and then all the back-to-school stuff. I can't believe I have a seventh grader!" She looked over at Conner and then back to Ginny. "And you with a rising freshman!"
"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Ginny smiled. "Seeing our little boys grow into such great young men." She took a sip of her orange juice. "I'm so glad we found each other."
"Me, too," Olivia agreed, and finding her enthusiasm was slightly less feigned this time around than it had been in previous engagements with the McCanns. They must be rubbing off on her.
"You really do have to get up to Manhattan next time," Olivia insisted. "Noah and I really want to show you around town—maybe even take in a show."
Ginny nodded as Matt shut the trunk. "That sounds great. Noah's been filling Conner's head with stories of pizza and Lego and Pokemon."
"Wonderful," Olivia agreed, leaning forward for an awkward hug. "We'll be in touch."
She hadn't been on the road for fifteen minutes when her phone rang. "Fin," she answered. "Noah and I are just on our way back. What is it?"
"Hey, Liv," his voice came through her stereo gravelly and warm. "I thought you might wanna know. Buddy of mine was down in Baltimore at Munch's bar, and saw your old partner on the front page of the Sun Times."
It was all she could do to keep from steering off the road. "Elliot was on the front page of the Baltimore paper?"
"Yeah, I'll text you a link to the article so you can read about it. His UC gig was apparently with some motorcycle gang that was running up and down the East Coast–drugs, dog fighting, money laundering–the usual."
She was quiet as the pieces began to fall into place–engine noises, dog barking, even the shovels and digging. "By the way, Liv," he added, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to get in touch with him, but he was obviously in deep. This was a Fed thing."
Once again, she found herself struck dumb, but managed to simply say, "Of course. There's no one else I'd rather have watching my back, Fin. Thank you."
"Anytime," he answered. "How's Noah?"
Olivia turned to her son. "I'll let him answer that."
Noah smiled. "Hi, Fin! Mom said I grew half an inch! I start school next week."
"Sounds like I'm not gonna be able to call you short stuff much longer," Fin countered. "I'll see you both in Manhattan."
She found herself looking over at again and again over the course of the drive, and he squirmed under her scrutiny. "Mom, what?"
"I'm sorry," she said reflexively. And then, licking her lips, she turned back to him, to ask, "Can we talk?"
She could see him stiffen and then give in. "You mean like talk talk?"
"Yes," she confirmed, wryly. "Something sons sometimes do with their mothers, especially if they like to continue receiving allowance."
"Okay…" he said it with all the enthusiasm of a military conscript. "What do you want to talk about?"
There was a tiny part of her that longed for the terrible twos, but all told this was more fun. She liked the challenge. "Elliot told me you wanted a puppy. Why didn't you tell me you wanted a puppy?"
"Oh…" She could feel the air go out of him as he said it.
She raised her eyebrow and echoed him. "Oh…" She smiled at him. "I'm guessing this came up when he picked you up a few months ago."
"Yeah," he admitted. "It's not that big a deal. We were just talking about stuff and it came up."
She let that sink in, grateful that Noah had someone that he was comfortable talking to, and not wanting to break the confidence, but also overwhelmingly curious. "What sorta stuff?"
"Just stuff," Noah said. "Like big dumb dreams and little dreams and favorite candy and all that stuff."
She reached for his hand at that point. "We're running a little low on gas, and then I think I wanna hear about these big dumb dreams–and the little dreams. And you can pick a pack of your favorite candy while I fill up."
She was already in love with Elliot Stabler. She'd been in love with him for a long time. That he loved her son, and apparently had done so effortlessly, was only a bonus.
~oOo~
"Mom!" Noah's voice cut through the apartment. "Do you know where my green shirt is?"
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Not since I washed it and put it in your bedroom yesterday," she told him. "And I think it might be time for you to learn to do some of your own laundry, too!"
As she geared herself up for his push back, the phone in her back pocket buzzed. She pulled it out to see Elliot's name. "Noah," she called out as she rushed into her bedroom, "I gotta take this."
She closed the door behind her and all but threw herself onto her bed. "Hi!"
"Hi…" he answered. It was nearly a whisper. "I just got back."
"How was it?" she asked. "Not too much paperwork, I hope."
He laughed lightly. "No, just the regular ream and a half. But we managed to bring in a good twenty guys from two different cells."
"That's amazing, El. I read the article. Fin sent the link when I was driving back from Woodstock." She wasn't going to push for details. He'd share when he was ready. They had their own timeline. A timeline that was simultaneously slow and fast.
And he was about ready to move forward another step. "What are you doing tomorrow? Can I see you? Maybe for dinner."
She hardly recognized her own voice when she answered. "You don't have to wait until tomorrow, El. Unless–"
"Can I bring you anything?" he interrupted her, immediately taking her up on the offer.
She was standing, balancing the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she started to consider changing her clothes. "No, we're fine really. I just can't wait to see you."
"Noah," she knocked on his door. "Just to let you know Elliot's on his way over."
"Oh!" he answered. "Okay." He pursed his lips. "You're dating now, aren't you?"
She smiled. "We are."
"Are you gonna make out and stuff?" he asked, pursing his lips at her.
Olivia laughed. "Probably. That's what people who are dating do. You can go to your room if you want. We'll probably go back to my room after a while, too."
"Mom!" He shuddered.
"I love you, too, kiddo." She mussed his hair.
At that her buzzer rang, and she felt her heart skip a beat. He'd been to her place before, but never like this. She ran her fingers through her hair and straightened her necklace before opening the door.
"Hi–" She reached for him, both hands on forearm, gently tugging him through the doorway before kissing him.
"Hi," he answered with a soft, warm smile, and then leaned forward to return the kiss, more deeply. "The compass looks amazing on you." He traced the line of the chain.
She covered his hand with hers. "It's such a beautiful necklace."
"Don't discount the woman wearing it–" his breath brushed over her earlobe.
She shivered and forced herself to pull back. "Noah's just tidying up, but he's eager to see you, too."
"He's okay with all this?" Elliot asked, as Olivia led him toward the living room.
It was a fair question, and she appreciated it. "Like any teenage boy, he's not exactly jumping for joy at the idea that his mother might actually have a libido," she smirked, "but he likes you, and he actually said he's fine with us together." She leaned in to kiss him again. "Not that I need his permission, but it's nice."
"You've done an amazing job with him, Liv." He pulled her down onto the couch with him. "I really enjoyed the drive back from Woodstock."
She curled up against him. "Yes, she said. The big dumb dreams and the stupid little dreams and getting my son hopped up on his favorite candy. No wonder he crashed."
"He told you about that, did he?" Elliot tightened his hold on her and kissed the top of her head.
"Not everything–" She looked up at him with a smile. "He kept your secrets."
"I don't have any secrets, Liv," he countered, almost too quickly.
She was tempted to put that to the test, but before she could, there were footsteps. Elliot started to pull away, but she stopped him. There was nothing to be ashamed of in simply cuddling.
"Did you find your shirt?" She kept the conversation deliberately neutral.
He nodded. "Yeah. It was with my socks."
"Of course," she answered drily. The conversation ebbed after that, and she found herself wishing for something to break it up.
Elliot came through. "Wanna show me this bedroom of yours, Noah? It'll give your mom a break from me."
She watched them walk away, whispering like two old friends, and once again found herself on the verge of tears. How had this gotten so real, so fast? Was it possible she was really ready for it?
She could hear excited chatter coming from her son's room and tried not to eavesdrop, instead pulling menus out of the junk drawer and laying them out on the counter.
"After I was kidnapped…" she heard Noah's tail end of the conversation coming back up the hallway and she froze, her hand over the menu. It had been five years, a lifetime for him, a blink of an eye for her.
She wondered how much he remembered, or if he simply knew it as an event in his life before and after which his mom acted differently.
There were so many other points in her life that were marked by befores and afters–before she learned the truth of her conception, and after; before she started at SVU, and after; before Elliot left, and after; before Lewis, and after. Once again she was reminded of the darkness that seemed to follow her.
"You love her a lot don't you?" Another snippet of conversation, and she was reminded of Elliot's earlier claim that he had no secrets.
She couldn't hear the answer, but it seemed to satisfy Noah.
Noah. A before and after that hadn't come with darkness. And, Elliot's return was going to mark the same, if she learned to let it.
"Nice tour?" she asked as they walked back in.
He wrapped an arm around her. "Yeah." He leaned over her shoulder without letting go. "Let's see the menus."
She passed one over. "Woo Hop."
"Yes," he agreed.
~oOo~
"You're quiet…" They were on the sofa. Noah had already excused himself to his room.
"I've been thinking," she mused, lacing her fingers through his. "Puppies are a lot of work–a long term commitment even."
He didn't say anything, just shifted his weight slightly to kiss her shoulder. "Yeah," he finally said, on her shiver. "They are."
"I've decided that Noah's ready. You can tell him tomorrow morning. If you want." She continued to lazily play with his fingers as she said it. They had time. Puppies were a commitment, after all.
"Tomorrow morning…" he echoed. She could feel him still behind her, his breath slow.
She rolled over on top of him and reached for him deliberately lacing the fingers of both her hands with his. She liked this, the weight of her on him, the way she had control in this moment. His eyes were wide and focused completely on her. She could feel his cock pushing up against her, and she swallowed hard.
"El," she whispered. "Let's go to my bedroom."
~oOo~
Her mother used to apply arnica to bruises. She wasn't very confident that it was any more than a panacea.
On the other hand, Elliot's kisses seemed to be an amazing balm to the shadows that had been chasing her.
"I love you." She thought it would feel weirder to say; she'd avoided it for so long. Instead, it came with tears. "Oh, my god, Elliot. I love you."
He rolled over, drawing her in. "It's okay. We're gonna be okay."
She nodded, running her hand along his breastbone. "I know."
The author of this SVU - Quills & Shutters story will be revealed in October