On my way.
Elliot smiled when he saw the message; Liv had never been much of a texter, but Olivia didn't seem to have any problem with it. It's not that I don't know how, Liv had told him once. I text Fin, I text Noah. I'd just rather hear someone's voice, most of the time. When she'd said it he'd been wondering if she meant she'd rather hear his voice, if she wanted to hear him, after so many years of silence. Maybe she'd just prefer not to put anything she had to say to him in writing. Olivia probably didn't give a shit about the sound of his voice, but she was on her way, so he dutifully began to clean up his work space.
It had been another long and lonely day at the library. The blue-haired girl was back, and when he'd told her he wanted to research string theory she'd produced a veritable mountain of books for him to wade through. Maybe an internet search would've been a better place to start, but he liked the tactile feeling of the books, liked dragging his finger down the page and checking indexes; it made him feel like a cop again, like he was investigating phone records or something, like he was doing something useful. The girl had found a steno book and a pencil somewhere so he could take notes and he'd scribbled all sorts of things down, not that it really mattered. None of it made any sense. He hadn't gotten very far in his research over the course of the day, but it wasn't like he had any more pressing engagements on his calendar. He'd try again tomorrow.
So he gathered up the books - in a stack so high he couldn't see over it, and instead had to lean to the side so he could watch where he was going - and carried them up to the girl at the counter.
"All done?" she asked him brightly, as if he'd somehow managed to read a dozen heavy science tomes in the space of a single day.
"Not quite," he said. "Hey, listen, do you have to put all those back on the shelves? I'm probably gonna be here tomorrow, and I'm just gonna wanna look at them again."
"Technically, I should," she said, and then she leaned across the counter, dropping her voice into a conspiritorial stage whisper. "But I tell you what. I'll keep them up here, and as long as you're back by 10:00 a.m. tomorrow, they'll be ready for you."
"That'll be great, thanks. Have a good night."
She waved to him cheerfully, and with his business concluded he made his way outside to wait for Olivia.
It had been, on the whole, a frustrating day for him. Not sorrowful, as the day before had been - he'd not thrown up even once - but frustrating nonetheless. There were so many theories to read it was doing his head in, and pissing him off, frankly, because that's all it was; just theories. Just a bunch of PhDs speculating about wild impossibilities, making leaps of logic that they claimed were perfectly sound, though Elliot found it all too difficult to follow. Black holes and particles, vibrating strings, quantum gravity; he'd graduated from night school at Queen's College and the only science class he'd taken there was a 100 level biology course. What the fuck did he know about quantum gravity? Nothing; less than nothing.
String was supposed to be a possible theory of everything; he'd read a little bit about the concept over the course of the day. Those scientists, some of them believed there was one unified theory that would explain every part of the universe and how it all worked together. God, he'd thought when he first read about a theory of everything; they're trying to find God. Wasn't God the answer, the ultimate theory of everything, the explanation for where everything had come from and why it all worked the way it did? His heart told him yes, but his heart had been raised a good Catholic, and his head had questions. In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. That was the answer the church had given him when he was a boy.
But how could there have been a beginning, or a God to create it; how could there have been a God, how could there have been something in the midst of nothing?
Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
The church told him to have faith. To trust in his faith, though he could not see the truth of things himself. To believe, and not to know. He believed, now, that he had been transported to another universe, though he did not know how, or why. He was trying to find the answers in the books the blue haired girl had given him, but what if the church was right; what if it wasn't something he could know? All those scientists, what if they'd never know, either?
Maybe it was God, he thought. Maybe God had sent him here, though he did not yet know the reason why.
He stood up as Olivia pulled her car to the curb; he crossed the sidewalk and climbed into her passenger's seat, and offered her a tired smile.
Maybe she was the reason why, he thought, looking at her proud profile, her gentle eyes. Maybe there was something he needed to learn from her, to do for her. Then again, maybe the scientists were right, and maybe it was all just the fault of some goddamn strings, vibrating at the wrong frequency.
"How'd it go?" she asked him as she put the car in drive and pulled back out into the stream of cars flooding through the city, making their way home, just like Elliot and Olivia were.
"It's making me think I might be dumber than I ever realized," he grumbled.
That made her smile.
"String theory, huh?" she said.
"String theory," he agreed. "I can't make heads or tails of it. Maybe I just need a little more time."
"Gotta tell you, I think with all the time in the world I still wouldn't understand it."
"That's what I'm afraid of," he said heavily. "I'd give anything to talk to Munch about it. I bet he could explain it to me."
Olivia was watching the road closely and so her eyes were turned away from him, but he saw it, just the same, saw the light of an idea spark and catch in the depths of those familiar doe's eyes.
"Maybe we can make that happen," she said, and then she took an unexpected left, piloting the car away from her apartment, heading towards the Hudson.
"You got something up your sleeve," he accused her gently.
"Maybe," she answered, grinning.
"All right, then. Guess I'm along for the ride."
She hummed, and they were quiet for a few minutes as she weaved her way through the traffic.
"Hey," he said after a time, realizing he'd been remiss in his pleasantries. "How was your day?"
"Oh, you know," she said vaguely. Apparently she had no intention of sharing the details of her current caseload with him, not that he could blame her. He was nobody to her; she was beautiful and powerful, ballsy and brash, and he was just some guy who'd wandered into her stationhouse with a crazy story. He was lucky she was talking to him at all.
"Saw your boss for a few minutes today," she said, throwing him a bone.
"Bell?"
"Yeah. She wanted to know what's going on with you."
"You tell her I'm sleeping on your couch?"
They'd stopped at a red light, and so she took the time to shoot him an incredulous look.
"Nah, didn't think so," he said easily.
"I told her the DNA results should be back tomorrow."
And what happens then? He wondered. If he had to place a bet he'd wager that his DNA was the same as whatever they had on file for this universe's Elliot Stabler, but what if it wasn't? They had the same fingerprints because they were the same man, but they had come from totally different universes, worlds, timelines, whatever. What if his DNA was different, on account of him having been born somewhere else? Would she think he was a liar? Would she want him prosecuted for impersonating a police officer? Hell, did this even count as impersonation? He didn't know, and part of him was scared to find out. Things had been going pretty ok between him and Olivia, and he was deeply grateful for her help and her company, and he didn't know what he'd do without her. How was he going to research string theory in jail? The prison libraries weren't that big.
"So we'll see what happens tomorrow," she said.
"I guess we will," he agreed.
Quiet fell, again, both of them lost in their own thoughts as Olivia's SUV wound its way through the gathering dusk, until at last she pulled her car to a stop by the curb in front of what looked like a shabby, run-down dive bar. Elliot stared at the building in confusion for a moment, and then he saw the sign above the door, proclaiming the name of the establishment.
"No fucking way," he said, grinning.
"Welcome to The Waterfront," Olivia said.
Technically, according to the sign, it was The Waterfront II. The first Waterfront had belonged to John Munch back in Baltimore, and he'd sold it a lifetime before.
"Is he really in there?" Elliot asked, turning to look at Olivia, a wild hope surging inside his chest.
"Should be," she told him. "John bought this place maybe ten years back. He and Brian went in on it together."
"Brian? Brian Cassidy?"
The Cassidy Elliot remembered was not the sort of guy he'd want to go into business with; Cassidy had a good heart and he meant well but he was dumb as a box of rocks and bad with numbers. Liv had liked him, though, Elliot recalled. Liked him enough to fuck him once when they were young, to stay friends with him as they grew up. Maybe she'd seen something in Cassidy that Elliot missed; then again, maybe she'd just needed a friend, and whatever else he was, Cassidy was a good friend to have.
"Yeah," she said. "John was my partner, but he always had a soft spot for Brian. I think he knew Bri needed someone to look after him."
Bri, Elliot thought. Jesus.
"And then John hit mandatory retirement. That was around the time Bri lost his badge, and he didn't want it back, he needed something to do. So, The Waterfront."
"How the hell did Cassidy lose his badge?" The last Elliot had heard about Cassidy before Elliot himself left the force, the kid had been working Drugs, had been making a decent go of it. He'd always figured Cassidy had stayed on the job; how else would he and Liv have been able to reconnect? Maybe he'd got it wrong though. Shit, there was so much he didn't know.
"Did that not happen in your world?"
"I don't know."
She hummed again, and it sounded a little disapproving, but he couldn't really blame her for that. He was disappointed in himself.
"It was a long time ago," she said, offering no real answer to his original question. "Now, come on. Let's see if anybody's home."
"Yes, ma'am," Elliot said, and then they both climbed out of the car and made their way into the bar. As they walked along his hand itched to reach for her, to settle at the small of her back and guide her the way he would've done with Liv. She wasn't Liv, though; she didn't need help, not from him or any goddamn body else. Still, though; he wanted to. He really, really wanted to.