January 5, 2024

He's late to his own mother's wake.

He'll make his excuses when he arrives, blame work and the traffic and his wife, offer everything but the truth, which is simply I didn't want to come.

He really, really doesn't want to be here, but it's not like he's allowed to say that. There's so many things he's not allowed to say. Ma was kinder, gentler, more thoughtful in her later life so he's not allowed to talk about what she was like when he was a kid, how scared he was of her, how many times he thought they'd be better off without her. He's the oldest, and that means he was supposed to be the one taking care of his younger siblings - which is bullshit, he thinks, because he never took care of anyone but himself and Ma, and that was a full time fucking job. The other kids managed fine and he got the hell out the second he could because he was pretty sure back then - and is still pretty sure now - that he'd have died if he stayed. Big brother didn't mean a lot to him then and it means less to him now that they're all over fifty; if they need help now that's their problem, not his.

It's not like he's a total bastard, or anything. He's dealing with his own shit. They're all dealing with their own shit, and that's the way he likes it. He doesn't want his siblings in his business and he wants no part of theirs.

There are certain things that are expected of him now, though. Things like this, things like turning up at the wake Elliot arranged for Ma in a nice suit, things like kissing his sisters' cheeks and talking to the nieces and nephews and saying a few somber words if Elliot shoots him that look that says it's your turn to be the man. It's a few hours out of his life; he can sacrifice that much.

It's not like he's got anything to rush home to.

Inside the bar is crowded, but he can see at once it's mostly Stablers. Between him and his four siblings they've got sixteen kids - the bulk of 'em are Elliot's, but Rosie is a close second at four - and those kids are all grown or mostly there, and pretty much all of them have partnered off so that's about thirty-two young people. He's come without his wife, and Elliot's wife has been dead for years, but Joey and Rosie and Anne Marie brought their other halves. There's other faces; the old ones he figures are friends of Ma's - though he's got no idea how she managed to make friends - but there's some people he can't quite place, people who are too young to be Ma's friends and too old to be friends with the kids. Friends of Elliot's, maybe, people who know him from the church, from work. It's not like Randall really intends to talk to any of 'em. It doesn't really matter.

There's things he's gotta do, and the first one is he's gotta talk to his brothers. Elliot and Joey are standing together in the corner; of course they are. Elliot's the middle boy, and Joey's the youngest, and Joey's always looked up to Elliot like he walks on water. Randall's always resented the hell out of that, privately, because Elliot has always seemed to get all the things Randall was supposed to. Ma always liked Elliot best; he was artsy like her - as a kid, Randall's sure El's grown out of that by now - and he was changeable like her. Elliot's emotions were always the biggest thing in the room. Elliot got all the athletic ability; he was playing football by the time he was nine and Randall was always shit at all of it. Elliot looks the most like Dad, and he's the one who joined the Marines and then became a cop just like Dad wanted. Joey tried, but Joey got kicked out of the Army and still won't say why. Randall has his suspicions, though. Elliot found the perfect girl when he was fourteen years old and stayed married to her his whole life, stayed faithful, too, as far as Randall knows. Elliot grieved her like he was supposed to and Elliot took care of Ma and Elliot did everything right, and Joey loves him best, and Randall is an outsider in his own goddamn family.

Elliot should've been born first, he thinks. At least then it would make some sense, him being the golden child.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Randall says as he walks up to them.

Elliot is wearing an expensive three piece suit, and he's lost all his hair. The last time Randall saw him was Kathy's funeral, and Elliot had still had a little hair then, but now his head is shiny and bare. It makes him look grim. When Elliot shakes Randall's hand his grip is firm; Jesus, Elliot's been bulking up, the bastard's built like a fucking tank.

"Just glad you're here," Elliot says. And Randall hates him a little bit for that; Elliot is being fucking magnanimous now, the king in his fucking castle, and his forgiveness is bitter. Randall hasn't done anything wrong and he didn't ask for his little brother's generosity.

"It's a good turn out," Randall says.

They might be Irish Catholic but he's determined to get through this wake sober and without starting a brawl.

"Can't believe how big the kids are, huh, Randy?" Joey says.

Elliot's got both the youngest and the oldest child out of all the grandkids; Maureen is pushing forty and Eli's only what, eighteen? The rest of 'em are all in between somewhere, and that means most of 'em are old enough to drink, which they are all doing grimly, determinedly. Randall's one contribution to the wake was paying for the open bar. It's literally the least he can do.

"Kids grow up," Randall says. "It's what they do."

"No Maria tonight?" Elliot asks.

"No."

No, Randall didn't bring his wife. He almost doesn't think of her that way anymore; their marriage died a long, long time ago but they're both still in it because neither of them wants the mess of untangling their finances. They both fuck whoever they want - never each other - and stay out of each other's hair. Maria's more or less living full time in the East Hamptons house these days, even in winter, and Randall likes it best that way.

Elliot doesn't approve, Randall can see that at once. His eyes darken, and his mouth draws into a thin line. Of course he judges Randall for the way he conducts his personal affairs; Elliot the choir boy has very strict ideas about what marriage means, about what it means to be a man, and he doesn't like that Randall disagrees.

"I'm gonna get a drink," Randall says. "You guys need anything?"

"We're good," Elliot says. It doesn't escape Randall's notice that Elliot has spoken for both of them, him and Joey. He always has. Randall's pretty sure Joey's never had an independent thought in his life. Even his current job, the British wine business, that all started back when Elliot went overseas. Joey wants to be just like his big brother, and that's not Randall.

It doesn't matter, he tells himself. He'll have a beer, he'll speak to everyone he's supposed to, and then he'll leave, and this will all be behind him. He can't fucking wait.

There are a number of people gathered at the bar, but two in particular catch his attention. Two women in pretty black dresses seated on barstools, talking quietly to one another, more or less ignored by everyone around them. He can tell with just one look that neither of them are Stablers; he knows his clan well, and these two don't fit. If they're not family, they might actually be worth talking to.

He squeezes into a gap in the bodies next to them, leans against the bar and catches the bartender's eye, orders a beer, and that's when it happens.

At the sound of his voice the woman closest to him turns her head, and her eyes go wide when she sees him. The expression on her face is one of shock, and he can't blame her, because she's just surprised the hell out of him, too.

"Hello, Olivia," he says, smiling.

It's the first good thing to happen to him in weeks.

The night he met Olivia he was living out of a hotel, contemplating divorce for the tenth time. She's as stunning tonight as she was then, moreso, maybe, because in place of tight jeans and a sweater she's wearing a dress with a neckline that dips low enough to show off the line of her cleavage, a pretty gold pendent nestled in the crevice between her pretty golden tits. Her eyes are as big and dark as he remembers, her mouth as full and soft, and holy shit, he thinks, maybe the universe is finally doing him a favor. He's thought about her a lot, on and off over the last few years; of all the one night stands and short lived affairs he's had she stands out, because she was the most interesting one of the lot. Olivia was a challenge, beautiful and strong and determined, a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and wasn't afraid to take it, and it made him feel powerful, a woman like that turning herself over to his hands. Made him feel like a fucking god when he was inside her, and he wants that again.

She never gave him her last name, never told him a damn thing about herself, and then she disappeared, and he thought he'd never see her again. But here she sits, pretty as a picture, and it's a second chance, he thinks. It's a chance to take hold of what he wants, something beautiful just for him. Elliot can't fuck this up; Randall saw her first.

"Joe," she says faintly.

Shit. He forgot about that. He often gives out fake names to women he thinks he'll only see once - he's got a business to worry about, and he doesn't want his personal life to tarnish his professional reputation - and he must have been in a mood the night he met her, if he gave her his father's name. It's easily corrected, though, he thinks; she wasn't exactly forthcoming with him, either. Surely she'll understand.

"Randall," he says, somewhat apologetically, and holds his hand out for a shake. "Randall Stabler."

"Shit," Olivia says softly. She doesn't take his hand.

There's something in Randy's eyes tonight that makes Elliot a little wary, something that looks petulant, spoiling for a fight. They haven't come to blows since Elliot was about sixteen, but that doesn't mean they haven't wanted to, just that they're probably long overdue. It can't be tonight - tonight Elliot wants everything to be perfect for Mama - but he doesn't trust that Randy can hold himself in check, especially if he starts drinking. Maybe it's a bad idea, mixing this many Stablers and an open bar.

Randy's his brother, and Elliot loves him, but Christ, the man is an asshole. Selfish, and entitled, ever since they were kids. Randy always resented the hell out of Elliot, always acted like Elliot took something away from him just by being born, when none of this shit is Elliot's fault, not really. It's not like Elliot's had a perfect life, but Randy seems to think so. He's got no idea, Elliot thinks. No fucking clue what Elliot's been through, what he's seen, what he's lost. No idea the sacrifices Elliot's made, the burden that he carries. And he's never fucking asked, either, but it's not like Elliot has volunteered any details. They don't do that, Elliot and his brothers. They don't tell the truth.

For a moment Joey's distracted, talking to someone Elliot doesn't recognize, and Elliot takes the opportunity to look around the bar at his family. It's a quiet moment and he wants to be grateful that they're all under one roof but his eyes unerringly locate Randall in the crowd, and when they do he sees red.

Across the room Randy is leaned up against the bar, standing close, too close, to Liv. Somehow Randy has honed in on the one person Elliot doesn't want him to talk to, the one person Elliot wants to protect from him, and Randy is watching her with hungry eyes, his hand idly brushing against hers on the bartop, his intent plainly salacious. Of course Liv is a beautiful woman and she looks incredible in that dress, but she's wearing Elliot's compass on a chain around her neck. Elliot hasn't kissed her, hasn't so much as touched her, but she's his, and Randy can't fucking have her. That can't happen; he can't let Liv become another notch on his married brother's bedpost. Randy is a prick, and Liv deserves better.

And she belongs to Elliot, goddamn it.

Ayanna is sitting next to Liv at the bar, and when she catches Elliot's eye there's a warning on her face. Leave it to Bell, to know exactly what he's thinking, to see the inherent potential for disaster that hangs in the air. Ayanna knows what Liv means to Elliot, and she knows what Elliot's capable of, when it comes to Liv. He's capable of anything, up to and including kicking his own brother's ass in public.

Before he does something truly stupid he decides he needs to feel out the situation, so he sidles up behind them. Neither Liv nor Randy are looking at him; they are engrossed in one another. Or at least, Randy's engrossed in her. Liv's body language is tense, and she's not leaning into him, but she's not leaning away, either. As they talk Randy covers her hand with his own, and she doesn't pull away.

"I was thinking," he hears Randy say in a low voice. "There's no food here. When this is over, why don't you let me take you out to dinner? Somewhere nice. Somewhere that's worthy of this beautiful dress."

Asshole, Elliot thinks. It's been maybe five minutes since Randy arrived, and already he's hitting on the first woman he sees? He doesn't have any idea what he's doing, Elliot thinks, because sure, Liv is sexy, but Randy doesn't know her. Doesn't know how brave she is, how strong, how fiercely she guards her independence. Doesn't know how sad she is, doesn't know she's raising a sweet little boy all on her own and will want to get back to him. It's her body that's caught Randy's eye but it's her heart Elliot loves, and Randy doesn't fucking deserve that. Not even a piece of it.

"You're playing with fire," he hears Liv murmur, but it's not a no, and that pisses him off even more. How can she sit there, wearing his necklace, and entertain a stranger's seedy proposition? It's always been like that, for Randy; the whole world fucking opens up for him. Randy got out of the house without any broken bones; Randy got to build his own life, with no concern for duty or obligation, without their parents breathing down his neck, telling him who he was supposed to be. Randy got to marry a beautiful girl because he wanted to, not because he had to. Randy only had two kids because that beautiful girl believed in birth control, and Randy didn't have to spend every penny of his life savings sending five kids to college. Randy got fucking rich; Randy got to have fun. And now Randy wants to have fun with Liv?

No fucking way.

But Liv isn't stopping him, and that just makes him angrier.

Can't she see the wedding ring on his finger, Elliot wonders; what is she thinking? Liv's not that kind of girl, never has been. The whole time he's known her, she's always protected his marriage, even when it hurt them both. Half the reason he never fucked her before now is that he knew she respected Kathy too much to let him. So why isn't the ring stopping her now? Can't she see that Randy is a sleaze, that he's not interested in her, that he just wants a quick fuck?

It would never be quick, Elliot and Liv. If he ever gets his hands on her, he intends to make it fucking last. But she's not ready yet, hasn't given him the chance, and yet here she sits, looking like she wants to give Randy a go, and that makes his blood boil.

"I don't mind getting burned," Randy practically purrs at her. "And if memory serves, neither do you."

And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

It's Ayanna who intervenes; she can see the danger in Elliot's tightening muscles, and she won't let Randy go any further.

"Elliot!" she calls loudly, sharply. "We were just talking to your brother."

Liv was talking to his brother, but Ayanna's sudden interjection bursts the bubble of privacy Liv and Randy have drawn around themselves; Randy steps back a pace, and Liv pulls her hand away from him, lets it fall to her lap.

"You're a lucky bastard," Randy tells him, "to have such beautiful friends."

"That's my boss," Elliot tells him bluntly, pointing to Ayanna, "and that's my partner."

Liv sighs, and Randy blinks slowly, clearly confused.

"All right, Liv?" Elliot asks her.

"Elliot." There's a warning when she speaks his name, and her eyes are flashing at him, just like they did that night in the hospital, seeming to say don't do this.

It's too late for that.

"See something you like, brother?" he asks Randy. Elliot only calls him brother when he's pissed.

"As a matter of fact I do," Randy says smugly. "Olivia and I were just getting reacquainted."

"Reacquainted?" Elliot repeats. There's tension coiling at the base of his spine, and his hands are curling into fists. Reacquainted means there's a reason for Randy's easy physicality with her. Reacquainted means there's a reason why Liv didn't immediately turn him away. Reacquainted means they're already acquainted, and that means Randy's already fucked her - Elliot knows his brother, and he knows his brother is not friends with women - and that means Randy has once again taken something good for himself and left Elliot to play the role of the dutiful boy, denied once more. Twenty-five years and Liv's never let him kiss her but she's fucked Randy? There's a red cloud of rage descending on him; he can feel himself about to break.

"We met, what was it, Olivia, two years ago? Two and a half?"

Liv looks like she wants to run. Two years ago, two and a half, that's after Elliot came back. That's after Kathy died. That's after this well of possibility opened up between them. It wasn't a decade ago when Elliot was still married and there was no hope for him and Liv, and that stings worse than anything. She could have had Elliot; at any time in the last two years if she'd reached for him he would've held on with both hands, but she chose Randy instead.

"I didn't know he was your brother," she tells Elliot sincerely.

"That mean you fucked a stranger?"

"Whoa, Elliot-" Ayanna says, rising up off her chair, beginning to insinuate her body between Elliot and his brother, the brother he wants to strangle with his own two hands.

"You know he's married?" Elliot adds over Ayanna's shoulder. Somehow Liv manages to look ashamed and pissed at the same time.

"You remember what you were doing two and a half years ago?" Liv fires back, incensed. "Or do you not want to talk about Angela Wheatley?"

"I didn't fuck Angela and she wasn't your fucking sister."

"Someone want to fill me in here?" Randall asks.

People are beginning to stare. Elliot's kids, his nieces and nephews, Mama's bridge club, the goddamn priest.

"I think maybe it's best you go," Ayanna tells Randy.

"It's my mother's wake, I'm not going anywhere, I've got more right to be here than either of you."

"You got no right," Elliot spits, pointing his finger at his brother, his hand shaking. "Where were you when Mama needed help? When I needed it?"

"Seems like you had everything under control," Randy tells him coolly. "You always do, don't you? You gotta control everything, all the time. Even Olivia."

"I'm going to go," Liv says then, and slides off her barstool. "I am sorry about Bernie," she adds, laying her hand on Elliot's shoulder. There's a petulant part of him that wants to pull away, but she touches him so rarely, and it feels so good to have her hand on him now that he can't brush her off, no matter how pissed off he is.

"I'll call you tomorrow," she promises, and then she's disappearing, hips softly swaying as she moves through the crowd. She pauses to speak gently, reassuringly to Eli and Dickie before she goes. That woman; she's torn his heart out a thousand times, but she's still everything he ever wanted. Kind, and gentle, and ferocious as a storm.

"What is your problem?" Randy demands, his eyes still lingering on Liv.

"My problem is you, acting like every goddamn thing in the world belongs to you and never taking any responsibility -"

"Oh, you're one to talk about taking everything," Randy cuts him off. "All these years, you had Kathy, and now you want her, too? How long have you known her, El? How long have you wanted to fuck your partner?"

"That's enough," Bell says forcefully. Neither Elliot nor Randy hear her.

"That woman is worth a hundred of you," Elliot snarls, but Randy's on a roll, and he doesn't stop.

"It really burns you up, doesn't it? You want her so bad, everyone can see it, but she let me have her first. She wanted to fuck me, brother, and I promise you she enjoyed it. You wanna know what she's like in the sack? She likes it when a man pulls her hair -"

Bell frowns, and steps away. It's clear she's made a decision; she's not holding Elliot back anymore. Maybe she should have - it's a fucking wake, after all, and no place for the kind of brawl that's coming - but she and Liv like each other personally and respect each other professionally and she clearly doesn't approve of Randy running his mouth about Liv any more than Elliot does. The second Bell gives him an opening Elliot moves, and Randy is still speaking when Elliot's fist collides with his jaw.

It feels good, hitting him. The first punch is for Liv, but the second is for Mama, and the third one is just for Elliot. All their lives Elliot's been cleaning up after Randy; sometimes it feels like he was only born to fix his brother's mistakes. It's Elliot who shielded the younger kids from their father's heavy hand, Elliot who took them under his wing, Elliot who taught Joey how to throw a baseball, taught Rosie how to throw a punch so she could defend herself, beat the snot out of Anne Marie's first boyfriend when he caught the kid talking shit about her. It's Elliot who bore the brunt of their father's expectations, Elliot who did all the things a kid is supposed to do for their parents while Randy fucked around, doing whatever he wanted and never thinking about anyone else.

The fight is brutal, and quick. Randy's taller but Elliot's got more muscle, and Elliot's been in more fights. After the first few punches they get so close neither of them can swing; it's just elbows and knees, curses and hands grasping. They knock over the barstools, break a few glasses, and the bartender's yelling - hell, everyone is yelling - but for a minute or two they're in their own little world, two brothers wrangling, almost wrestling as they fall to the floor.

It's Fin and Bell who break them up; Fin grabs Randy under the armpits and Bell catches Elliot by the shoulder, and get 'em out of here, the bartender barks, and they do. Thrown out of his own mother's wake by his boss, by fucking Fin; it's embarrassing. Fin and Bell march the two of them out, and when they pass his kids Maureen's expression is so disapproving Elliot can't help but think she looks just like her mother.

"Cool off," Fin snaps at them when they reach the sidewalk, and Elliot and Randall stalk petulantly away from one another.

"You gonna be ok if we leave you out here?" Bell asks warily.

"Yeah, we're fine," Elliot grumbles. He's going to have some bruises on his chest but he never let Randy get near his face. Randy, on the other hand, has a shiner coming up on his cheek that's gonna mean he won't forget this night in a hurry.

But the fight is over. It's just what they needed, to tussle with one another, to punch, to kick, to vent their mutual frustration, and the rage has left them both. Now they're just tired; now they'll be able to talk. It's the way things have always been between them; they'll fight, but when the fight is over they'll move on. Not like they have much choice; they have always been, and will always be, brothers, and that means they don't turn their backs on each other, even when maybe they want to. The fight is over; all that's left now is grief.

For a second Bell looks like she doesn't believe him, but then Randy plops down, sits on the edge of the sidewalk and props his hands on his knees, and that seems to mollify her. She and Fin go back into the bar to help calm everyone else down, and Elliot sits down beside his brother.

"Gotta get you some ice for that eye," he grumbles.

"I don't think the bartender's in the mood to give us any," Randy answers. "It'll be fine. I'll live."

It's a nice night. Cold, but nice. They sit together quietly for a minute or two, watching the cars go by, remembering how to breathe.

"If I'd known she meant something to you back then I wouldn't have done it," Randy says suddenly, apologetically breaking the silence.

"I know."

It's true; Randy's a prick, but he's not that much of a prick.

"And I am sorry. About Ma. I couldn't…I couldn't take it. You were always better at that shit than me."

"You ever think that's 'cause I had to be?"

"What, somebody had to do it, so you figured it had to be you?" It sounds like Randy doesn't believe it, but that's the core truth that's guided Elliot's whole life. Somebody has to do it; somebody has to pick up the slack, clean up the mess, take care of the ones who can't take care of themselves. Somebody has to, and it's always been Elliot.

"Yeah, actually."

"Jesus," Randy says.

"About Liv -" Elliot really, really doesn't want to talk about Mama, or their childhood, or any of that shit now. It's over; they're both carrying some resentment about the way they grew up, but they're both old enough now to take responsibility for themselves, and he's tired of rehashing the past.

"For what it's worth, she shot me down," Randy tells him. "Tonight, and back then. I wanted to see her again, but she wouldn't let me."

That sounds like Liv. It's not like Elliot's a fool; he knows what she's like. Never lets anyone get too close, always running. When they were young, the one night stands, the pretty dresses, the dates whose names she never told Elliot; he remembers all of that. Now that they're older he'd thought she was past that, but maybe not. She gets lonely, too. Was probably really lonely in the early days after Kathy died, when he was out of his mind and she was trying to take care of him and he didn't want to let her. He can't really fault her for looking for comfort, but he feels betrayed just the same. When he came back, he kinda thought that was it, for both of them. Why waste their time fooling around with other people, when they both know the only person they really want is each other?

But there's the matter of Angela; she's right to throw that in his teeth. Yeah, he never should've gone there, but at the time Angela had seemed so…uncomplicated. A beautiful woman he wanted, who wanted him, no baggage, nothing to lose if it fell apart. Things changed; he saw the truth of Angela Wheatley, and regretted it, but at the time it was easier to go to her than face the grief in Liv's eyes. Maybe that's why Liv picked Randy; maybe Randy wasn't complicated. He can understand it, but it still fucking hurts.

"What's the deal with the two of you?"

Randy sounds genuinely curious, but Elliot thinks there's not enough time in the world for him to answer that question, not in full. Maybe he can give his brother the short version.

"I love her," he says simply. "I have for a long, long time. I think we're…getting there, maybe, but I hurt her and I'm still working on getting her to trust me."

"Tonight probably didn't help," Randy mutters.

No, Elliot thinks, it probably didn't, because tonight he was possessive and belligerent and he regrets the way he spoke to Liv. She's probably pissed as hell at him. But it's clarified some things for him, too. Made him see something he thinks he was purposefully blind to before. As long as he's giving Liv space, as long as they're not together, not committed, not anything, she's free to do whatever she wants, to be with whoever she wants. And that hurts like hell. The thought of another man's hands on her - the thought of Randy's hands in her hair, that's gonna haunt him - makes him feel sick. He doesn't want to be free to touch somebody else, and he doesn't want anybody but him touching Liv. It's time, he thinks, to stop fucking around. It's time to stop waiting. Maybe she's not ready, but maybe she'll never be, and maybe they'll never know if they don't fucking try.

"You always get everything you want, don't you?" Elliot muses. That must have been what happened with Liv; Randy saw a woman he wanted, and he made his move, and got the girl. Elliot hung back, Elliot waited, and Elliot's got nothing to show for it.

"Life doesn't give you shit," Randy tells him. "You gotta take it, or you gotta settle for what's handed to you."

It is the story of both their lives, summed up so neatly it makes Elliot want to laugh. Randy takes what he wants; Elliot's just been settling.

Fuck that, he thinks.

"Can I tell you something about Olivia or are you gonna hit me again?" Randy asks warily.

"Depends on what you got to say." Elliot can't make any promises. If Randy starts talking about what she likes in bed or what she looks like naked, Elliot's gonna break his knuckles on his brother's teeth.

"She responds to confidence," Randy says, and that makes Elliot look up, stare at his brother incredulously. Who the fuck is he, talking about her like he knows her? Elliot wonders, but then it occurs to him that Randy knows things about Liv that Elliot can only guess at. Maybe he is the expert here, because of the two of them Randy's the only one who's ever seen her naked.

"You said you're working on getting her to trust you again. Maybe you're waiting on her, but maybe she's waiting on you. You gotta be clear about what you want, man. You told me you're in love with her, but have you ever said that to her?"

Once, Elliot thinks, but he's pretty sure that doesn't count. Or it does, it does count, because he meant it then and he means it now, but he was half-crazy when he said it and they never talked about it again, and it occurs to him now to wonder if she knows it's true. Even the necklace; he gave it to her so she'd have something to hold on to, so she'd know he was coming back to her after this UC stint, so she'd have something to hold and know that he loves her, but he didn't tell her that. Lead you to happiness, Liv, that's what he'd said, but he'd meant lead you to me. They so rarely say what they mean, though. It's never been their way; they've never been allowed to. They speak in half-sentences, brush up against the truth - what about me, he hears her say in a shattered voice - but they don't face it outright.

Maybe it's time.

"You know where she lives?" Randy asks him, one eyebrow raised as if urging Elliot to see the obvious course of action in front of him.

"Yeah, I do," Elliot says, and then he rises slowly to his feet.

"I'll take care of the wake," Randy tells him. "You go…take what's yours."

It isn't the way Elliot wanted it; he's not sure he trusts Randy to handle the rest of the wake, to speak to the people he needs to speak to, to give a toast, to treat Mama's memory with respect. Then again, maybe he just doesn't trust Randy to handle things because he's never given his brother the chance to be in charge. Maybe Randy will rise to the occasion, for once. Elliot's already done his part, been there for an hour or two, caused a fucking scene. Maybe it's Randy's turn to be the big brother.

Elliot's got something important to take care of, anyway.

They shake hands, and go their separate ways. Randy walks into the bar, and Elliot fishes his keys from his pocket and heads for his car.

He's gonna take what he wants.