October 19, 2015

The thing about being a Marshal was that it was a hell of a lot more boring than he'd ever imagined. Before he took this job when he thought of the US Marshals he thought of Tommy Lee Jones - and Andy fucking Eckerson - glorified cops with more pull than he'd ever had at the NYPD, running through the streets, drama and excitement, constant movement. Witsec was different. Witsec was fucking slow. Working for Witsec he was hardly more than a babysitter, monitoring his witnesses, making sure they toed the line, culling through intel on the people who wanted to hurt them, alert for signs of danger. More than a month he'd been at it now, and so far he'd not had reason to unholster his weapon, apart from the one night at Liv's.

Christ, Liv. He hadn't seen her in weeks, and it was killing him.

It's for the best, that's what he kept telling himself. The best thing for him, for Kathy, for Liv, for both their sons, would be for him to keep his distance. Do his damn job, love his wife, let Liv get on with her life. Four years ago he'd decided that he didn't want to hold her back anymore, that he wanted her to be free of him, that she deserved it, and that hadn't changed. He still thought she deserved better.

But she stayed with him, still, like a mosquito bite that wouldn't stop itching no matter how hard he scratched it. Scratched it 'til his hands were bloody, and it didn't fucking matter; the itch remained. The itch to see her, to speak to her, to explain himself, the itch just to be near to the heart so like his own. Time and distance hadn't dulled the sharpness of that itch, and now that she was sleeping inside the same city limits his thoughts drifted to her near constantly.

Still, though, he was trying.

Trying, getting through the days. Going home to have dinner with Kathy and Eli at the same time every night, falling asleep next to Kathy praying he wouldn't murmur Olivia's name in his dreams. He wasn't sure Kathy would even tell him if he did.

It was a Monday afternoon in mid October, a cool clear day, puffy white clouds scuttling across a sky so blue it almost hurt to look at it. He and Jackie had been making the rounds, cruising through the city and surrounding suburbs, paying visits to a few troublesome witnesses, and Elliot was ready to be done with it. Going home didn't hold much appeal, either, but it was a nice day, and if he got home in time maybe he could kick the soccer ball around with Eli before dinner. That'd be ok.

"What's next?" he asked Jackie as they piled back into the sedan.

"One more stop to make, and then we're home free."

"Where we going?"

She shot him a slow, speculative look, one that told him everything he needed to know. He knew whose name she was going to give him before she even spoke.

"Gotta see your friend Lindsey," she said. "It's been a month and she doesn't have a job yet, and that ain't gonna fly."

It was embarrassing, really, the rush of adrenaline that engulfed him at the prospect of seeing Liv again. The way his heart began to race, the way his belly began to churn. It didn't matter that he and Jackie were only going over there to chastise Liv for remaining unemployed, using Uncle Sam's money to keep herself afloat; he was going to see Liv. To stand face-to-face with her once more. Maybe he could get her alone, away from Jackie. Maybe they could finish the conversation they'd started that night in her backyard; maybe he could finally ask her where the hell her son had come from, what had happened to his father. Then again, after weeks of radio silence, maybe she'd refuse to speak to him. He couldn't blame her for that.

"Listen," Jackie said seriously. "You gonna behave yourself today? Or do I need to leave you in the car?"

"I'm not a damn dog," Elliot grumbled. "Yeah, I'll behave. It'll be fine, Jackie."

He'd have said anything, promised her anything, just for the chance to see Liv again.

This is nice, Olivia thought as she leaned back in her plastic lawnchair, smiling. The sun was shining; it was cooler than she would've liked, but she was warm enough, wrapped in a heavy white sweater paid for by the US Marshals, and she had a glass of lemonade, and Paul to keep her company while they watched their sons run through the dry brown grass of her backyard.

There were a lot of things about being Lindsey Duncan that were nice, she'd decided. She just wasn't sure yet whether nice was ever going to make her happy.

The days were passing, and she was settling into her new routine. Floated a couple of job applications but her attempts had been half-hearted at best; she didn't really want to go back to work. What job was ever gonna be interesting enough, challenging enough, important enough to keep her occupied, if being a cop was out of the question? What job was gonna be more fulfilling than the one she was already engaged in, being Noah's mom full time? Idleness chafed at her, but she loved her son, and she was loving this time with him. This time to just be with him, to watch him grow, to hold him, not just for a couple hours a day between racing off to crime scenes, but always. In her old life there had never been enough time, and now she had more of it than she knew what to do with, and she was spending every second of it with him.

"I can put in a good word for you," Paul said, and the sound of his voice jerked her back into the present, out of her musings on motherhood and the way life used to be. "At the daycare."

"That'd be great," she told him. The time was coming when she'd go back to work, and she'd need a place for Noah. It would be better, she figured, to get him in daycare before she started working, get him settled first instead of scrambling to find a placement last minute. Paul took his son Riley to a place not far from their neighborhood, and he'd been enthusiastic about getting Gabe a spot there as well. It would be convenient; Paul worked from home, and he'd be there if she ever needed help getting Noah to and from daycare. If she could trust him alone with her son, he'd be there. She was starting to think maybe she could, that maybe he really was as nice as he seemed, but her heart had always been slow to trust, and never more so than now.

"I've been asking around at my firm, looking to see if anybody's hiring," Paul continued. "Turns out, the VP's looking for a secretary."

He was smiling like he thought this was the best news in the world, and she smiled back because she did not want to spurn his kindness, but shit. A secretary? Was she really gonna be a secretary?

You'll do whatever you have to do to make this work, she told herself.

"That sounds…that's really nice, Paul. Thank you."

The next thing to do, she knew, was to ask him about it, ask if she needed to apply, if he had a number she could call or an email address or something, but before she could work up her resolve she heard the familiar sound of a car pulling into the driveway, and Paul's ears perked up like a golden retriever who'd just heard the key hit the lock.

"You expecting anybody?" he asked curiously.

"No, I-"

"Hey, yo, Lindsey, you out here?" a familiar voice called, and Olivia's stomach sank.

Shit.

It was Jackie.

"Back here!" she yelled back, rising slowly from her chair.

Should she stop this? Rush across the grass, stop Jackie at the gate before Paul got a good look at her? Would that be more or less suspicious than letting Paul and Jackie meet? But oh, no - what if Elliot was with her? How was she ever going to explain that? There was no telling what Elliot might do when he caught her lounging around with a man who was a stranger to him. What would be worse; Elliot puffing his chest out like a goddamn gorilla the way he used to do and scaring Paul off, or Elliot doing nothing at all? It had been weeks since she'd last seen him; what if he really didn't care at all?

In the end there was no time; Jackie and Elliot came sweeping through the gate together, marching straight towards her across the grass. Jackie was smiling, waving, acting like nothing was amiss, but Elliot's eyes narrowed the second he caught sight of Paul, his expression settling into a deep frown of disapproval, and though she was a little ashamed of it she couldn't help but feel the smallest bit of relief. It was good to know some things hadn't changed.

"Hey, girl!" Jackie said, embracing her like they were old friends. The hug startled Olivia but she had turned her back on Paul; hopefully he didn't notice the way her eyes went wide, the uncomfortable way she returned Jackie's affection.

"Who's your friend?" Jackie asked as they parted, smiling at Paul.

"This is my neighbor, Paul," Olivia answered. "Paul, this is -"

"Mary," Jackie lied smoothly. "And my husband, Marshall."

From five feet away Olivia saw the annoyance flash in Elliot's eyes; apparently he wasn't happy about the ridiculous name Jackie had chosen for him.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said darkly.

Motherfucker, Olivia thought. He disappeared on her again, and he had the gall to be pissed that she was spending time with someone else? The contradiction in her own feelings wasn't lost on her, but she'd elected to ignore it.

"Can I talk to you inside?" Elliot asked her then, jerking his head towards the back door.

"Marshall's the worst at keeping secrets," Jackie told Paul in a conspiratorial kind of way. "He's planning something big for our anniversary and he thinks I don't know about it."

"Be a lot easier to keep secrets if you weren't so nosy," Elliot muttered.

"Go on, Linds," Jackie said, flopping inelegantly into the lawnchair Olivia had so recently vacated. "I'll keep an eye on Gabe. And I'll get to know your new friend Paul."

The way she said friend was dripping with innuendo, her eyes sparkling as she said it, looking for all the world like precisely what she claimed to be, an old friend teasing Lindsey about her new acquaintance. How does she do it so easily? Olivia wondered. For her part Olivia had always been kind of uncomfortable with undercover jobs; she'd always found it hard to be anyone other than herself, and it showed in the work. She'd relied on Elliot to do most of the acting, and he'd always been good at it, always relished the opportunity to slide into someone else's skin. She wasn't sure what that said about them; she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Come on," Elliot said shortly.

It wasn't like she had any other choice; she went, silently, fell into step with Elliot, their feet falling in perfect time with one another until they reached the back steps where he hung back, let her go through the door first. As soon as they were inside she spun around to face him, and he leaned back against the door, disapproval hanging over him like a thundercloud.

"Paul, huh?" he said the name like a curse.

"Sorry, I didn't realize I needed to ask your permission to make a new friend."

"You kinda do, Liv," he said grimly. "We gotta vet the people in your life, we gotta make sure they're safe."

"He does tech support for a bank, he's not a drug dealer."

"That's what he's told you, doesn't mean it's true."

She'd forgotten how infuriating this man could be. It was hard to remember, in the moment, why she'd wanted to see him again so badly.

Except that it wasn't, really, wasn't hard to remember why she'd missed him; even pissed off and possessive and patronizing, Elliot made her feel alive in a way she wasn't sure she'd been since she came here. The tension eased out of her shoulders, her body loosening up as she began to stalk away from him across the kitchen, her heart pounding in her chest; he might have made her angry, but he made anger feel good. Anger was so much better than the nothing she felt most of the time.

"Did you come all the way over here to tell me I'm not allowed to play with the boy next door?"

Oh, that made him mad. In the last four years he'd lost most of his hair, was keeping it buzzed real short these days, and she could see the vein pulsing at his temple, a sure sign that he was pissed. Could see the way he broadened his stance, planted himself in the doorway like a soldier guarding his queen from any fool who dared approach her, could see the red heat of his anger flushing his skin, working its way up from his chest to his neck to the tips of his ears. Electricity crackled in the air between them, vibrant and vibrating like the seconds before a lightning strike.

Let it come, she thought. She was looking forward to the storm.