Cassidy wants me to close, won't be able to go home with you.
The text came in around noon, and lingered on the edge of her thoughts for the rest of the day. It wasn't a particularly earth shattering message; Cassidy was kind of a dick for making Elliot work a twelve hour shift with no notice, and she was kind of curious about why Cassidy couldn't be bothered to close himself, and it was kind of nice that Cassidy trusted Elliot to man the bar alone and that kind of felt like progress, but the news wasn't devastating. Wasn't a big deal, really, except that it was. It was a big deal, because Elliot had used the word home.
It was their home now, she realized. That apartment where she'd been living alone for years was theirs, now, a place they shared, a place they went back to together. His clothes in the closet, his warmth beside her as she slept. A home, not just a bed and a kitchen but a home. It had happened so quickly, so seamlessly; from the moment they met she'd felt connected to him, and he had slipped inside her life the same way she might slip inside her favorite coat, comfortable, familiar, easy. He was her partner, now, this man who had been a stranger to her just a few months before. This life they lived, they lived it together. She didn't have to go home alone; she could stay until close, and go home with him, if she wanted.
Work kept her at the office late but for once she didn't mind; today was Friday, and the boys had all agreed to come to the Waterfront with her when they got the paperwork wrapped up. Something like nervousness skittered across her skin; they'd know, the second they walked in the bar, about Elliot. Velasco and Fin had been there the day Elliot turned up, would remember that he was hardly more than a stranger, and a mysterious, possibly dangerous one at that. Velasco wouldn't say anything about it; he was still fresh, still getting his bearings, not comfortable enough to question his boss on something so personal. Probably Fin would have plenty to say about it, but he wouldn't bring it up in front of the rest of the team. He'd wait until Monday, until her office door closed behind him, to ask her if she'd lost her mind. Bruno would just think it was funny.
It'll be fine, she told herself. This is your life, and it'll be fine.
It was after 9:00 when she came walking through the door with her boys in tow. The Waterfront was busy tonight; trade always picked up on a Friday and the dive at the end of the block was closed for the weekend, doing repairs after a recent break in, sending all their customers Elliot's way. He was busy, slinging drinks and cracking jokes, but the world still came to a stop when she walked in, the way it always did.
She was just so goddamn pretty. In her expensive black suit and her heavy boots, her hair pulled back so he could see her face, gun at her hip and that easy confidence. The three men flanked her like soldiers guarding their queen as she approached the bar, and a smile spread across his face while he waited for her to reach him.
Hey, baby, that's what he wanted to say to her. Wanted to call her baby in front of the squad, wanted them to know that she was his, that he was someone to her. Wanted to show her off because Christ who wouldn't, who wouldn't be proud to share his bed with a woman like that? It would've embarrassed her though, and she was a prickly creature, his Olivia, and he wanted her to smile at him, not frown and roll her eyes.
"Captain," he said instead, still grinning. "What can I get you?"
"Pitcher of whatever's cheapest," Bruno said. In this universe Elliot and Bruno had never met but Elliot remembered him, from before. "I'm buying."
In Elliot's world Bruno was filthy fucking rich; he wondered if that was something else that had changed, between here and home. Probably not, he figured, based on the way the team laughed.
"You got it," he said. "Sit anywhere you like."
There was a look in Olivia's eyes like a question, but he couldn't figure out what it might be. Had she expected him to be more demonstrative? Did it bother her that he wasn't? He'd thought she would want to keep this thing between them quiet, but what if she didn't; what if this was her idea of a test run, introducing him to the squad, opening up her life to him? How would Liv have handled it, he wondered, if she'd ever let him touch her; would she have held his hand in public, bashful when Fin raised an eyebrow at her, or would she have fought him on it, spent ages trying to keep their romance a secret when everybody they knew suspected already? What would that have been like, doing that dance with her? Maybe it would've been a little bit like this. Exciting and nerve wracking at the same time.
He filled the pitcher and put it on a tray with four empty glasses, and carried the lot of it to the booth at the back where Liv and her crew had settled in with Munch. The old man had been waiting for them, and he lit up as he talked to Olivia, telling her his theories about the break in down the street. Half the customers of the Waterfront - and both its owners, and Elliot himself - were retired cops, and they'd been buzzing about the crime for days, each of them trying in his own way to solve it. There was no point, really; Munch and Cassidy and Elliot and the rest, they weren't gonna catch the guy, weren't gonna close the case, but it was something to do, a way to pass the time.
"You're not worried about something like that happening here?" Bruno was asking Munch as Elliot drew near.
"Nah," Elliot said easily, putting the tray down in the middle of the table and letting his hand come to rest on Olivia's shoulder, testing her reaction. She didn't pull away, just smiled up at him fondly, and that seemed like a good sign to him.
"Guy would have to be stupid to try to rob this place," Olivia said. "It's crawling with cops."
"Criminals aren't always geniuses," Bruno said.
"Ain't that the truth." No one was tending the bar and Elliot had to get back, so he squeezed Olivia's shoulder once, noted the way Fin was watching him and decided not to press his luck. "Let me know if you need anything."
"I will," she promised.
Elliot was still in earshot when he heard Bruno say so, who is that guy?
My partner, Olivia answered.
It should've felt wrong, maybe, hearing her say that. Liv was his partner; the time they'd spent working together had changed the course of their lives, bound them together irreversibly. They held each other up, supported each other, protected each other, even when he was working OCCB; even when she was a Captain and he was a detective in a different squad they were, still partners. Always would be. She was his partner, the one riding beside him while he tore through Jersey looking for Eli, the one bringing flowers to Kathy's grave on her birthday. All those years, all those memories, that was Liv, not Olivia.
It should've felt wrong, but it didn't. It warmed him through instead, because he and Olivia had never worked the job together but they were partners, still. Not doing work together, but doing life together. Partners the way people who shared a bed were partners, not partners the way people who shared a desk were partners. Two different kinds of partners, and he'd wanted both kinds of partnership with Liv but she'd never given him the chance. He was never gonna have all of it, work and home, with Liv or Olivia, but together they formed the whole of it. The two halves of him, the two pieces of his heart, two sides of the same coin. Partners.
There was something sorta official about it, he thought. Something final. Something that said he wasn't a stranger to her anymore, that his presence in her life was a choice now, not an accident. That she wanted him with her. Christ, he wanted her to want him.
Partners.
For the rest of the night he kept thinking about it. About what it would mean to be Olivia's partner. Thinking about the future; it wasn't like he was making a ton of money but he was doing all right now, and between them they could maybe swing for a new apartment. Somewhere a little bigger, a little brighter. More windows, room enough in the kitchen for them to move around without bumping into each other. He wanted to ask her about looking for Noah; maybe the kid was fine, happy with another adoptive family, but if he wasn't, maybe they could bring him home. It scared him as much tonight as it had in the morning, the finality of it all, but what choice did he have? They could float along like this forever, or maybe they could build something new.
Other bars stayed open later but the Waterfront closed its doors at midnight. Munch went shuffling off home, and Olivia said goodbye to her boys at the door. Elliot hadn't expected them to stay until closing but he was glad they had, glad she had, because now the bar was empty and they had the place to themselves, a locked door keeping the rest of the world at bay.
"Can I help?" She asked him, lingering by the door.
There was plenty to do; the kitchen closed down at 11:00 and those boys had already cleaned up and cleared out, but the glasses needed washing, the counters and tables needed wiping down, the floors needed sweeping. Elliot needed to count down the till and lock the day's earnings in the safe. It would all go faster with a second set of hands, but Elliot wasn't in a hurry to do any work.
It scared him, the thoughts he'd been having about the future, about her. It frustrated him. Thinking about what might have been, wondering about how he'd ended up here, beating his head against a wall as he tried to figure out what the right thing to do would be given his impossible circumstances. He felt lost and torn apart, but looking at her in the darkness of the closed down bar, all that shit began to fade away.
Just be here with me, that's what she'd asked him to do. To just be present, with her. To be in the moment, not lost in guilt or dreams but face-to-face with life as it was. Maybe that was the point, the lesson to be learned on this strange voyage he'd undertaken; maybe he was supposed to learn how to live. How to live in the moment, not weighed down by duty or expectation, not holding himself back or atoning for his sins, but how to live. Just live.
He wanted to live. With her.
With Cassidy out of the bar all afternoon Elliot had been left in charge of the radio, and it had been playing 70s hits for most of the day. Now was no different; Gram Parsons was crooning A Song for You over the speakers, and the song wrapped itself around him warm and soft as a blanket, and his feet were moving before his mind had a chance to catch up.
"Dance with me," he murmured, holding out his hand to her.
She looked at him for a moment, mouth slightly open in a soft O of surprise, and there was a hesitation in her, an uncertainty that made him wonder how long it had been since she last danced, since she last had someone to dance with. Tucker, maybe; maybe they'd danced at their wedding. It should've been me, he thought, but then she was taking his hand, and it didn't matter what should have been, anymore, and the only thing that mattered was what was. It made no differnece, what he should have had; the only thing that mattered was what he was holding now.
He brought her body close against his, kept one hand holding hers while they other settled at her waist, and the fingers of her free hand pressed lightly at his shoulder while they swayed together for a beat or two like a couple of kids at a middle school dance. A little tentative, a little shy, not quite knowing what to do with their bodies yet, and how could he have known, when he'd never danced with Liv before? When would he have had the chance? Fin's wedding, maybe; he should've asked her. People were dancing and the lights were sparkling on the water and she looked so pretty in that dress and she said partners like it meant something; he should have asked her to dance.
Too late now, though.
Olivia must have felt as awkward as he did because she laughed, then, and he kissed her cheek, and drew her closer. It got a little easier when he just let himself hold her, and didn't worry about whether or not he was doing it right. They swayed together, and her hand was warm in his, and over the speakers, Gram kept right on singing.
Paint a different color on your front door…
He'd never understood that part, what it was supposed to mean. Never understood it before but he thought he was starting to understand it now; this home, this Olivia, was different from the one he knew but he was still here, with her, wanting her, loving her. The way her body molded to his, soft and warm, the way she hummed along with the music, the faintest trace of her perfume; she enveloped him, and he loved her.
Some of my friends don't know who they belong to…
He belonged to her now, didn't he? Liv was dead and home was too far behind him and this, right here, right now, this was where he belonged. He danced, led her in a little waltz on the sticky floor in the middle of the bar, his feet making a box like the nuns taught him in the parish hall when he was a kid, and she followed him, step for step.
I love you darling, now I'm leaving, I can see the sorrow in your eyes…
She sighed, and rested her head on his shoulder, and he tightened his grip against her.
He wasn't leaving; there was nowhere to go, and he didn't want to, anyway. What he wanted was her, just like this. Olivia, alive, and warm, and dancing with him.