October 31, 2015

"Bless me father, for I have sinned. It's been two weeks since my last confession."

The voice he heard echoing back to him from the heavy wood-paneled walls of the confessional did not sound like his own. That voice sounded hoarse, and grim, and frightened, in a way he had not been since he left his badge on Cragen's desk four years earlier.

"What are your sins, my son?"

Greed, he thought. Lust. Wrath. He'd committed them all, hadn't he? All the big ones, anyway. Well, maybe not sloth. But the rest of them. Pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust and even gluttony; he was guilty of all those crimes, and more besides.

The church was Kathy's idea. She'd come to him shyly a week or two after they moved to Omaha, said it might be nice to have a church to go to. Said they might meet people, maybe Eli could make friends, and grow up a good Catholic like his older siblings. He was about to turn 8; he was old enough to start his catechism classes. It was Kathy's idea of trying, her idea of making this place feel more like home; find them a church to go to, root Eli in the same traditions that had given structure to the older kids' lives, build something for their family here that felt familiar, felt like theirs. Most weeks Elliot went to mass with her, but today he'd come to church alone. Spent the night in a motel after he left Olivia's, unwilling to face his wife with the smell of another woman on his fingertips. Breakfast at a greasy diner, and then he was in the church parking lot by the time the priest opened the doors at 8:00. He waited an hour or so for the priest to wrap up the morning mass, waited for the crowd to file out, and then he made his way inside. The priest took confession on Saturdays, and there was a line; plenty of time for Elliot to sit with his hands clutched together in his lap, trying to work out what he meant to say when his turn came.

It was his turn, now; he was the last in line, and the priest was waiting for an answer.

It was an answer Elliot was loath to give.

What are your sins, my son?

In the moment, it hadn't felt like a sin. In the moment, touching Olivia, kissing her, hearing her ragged moans, feeling her warm and wet for him; all of it felt fucking perfect, in the moment. Righteous. Like he'd finally made the right decision, like he was finally right where he was meant to be. Being with her felt good. It was everything that came after that filled his heart with shame; it was the memory of the heartbroken look in her eyes, the thought of Kathy and what he'd done to her that made him feel like a sinner.

The only way to atone for a sin, he knew, was to name it. He must make his confession; he must speak the words aloud. He had to do it, had to say it, had to face the truth of what he'd done. He could not begin to do penance until he had given voice to the truth.

Still, though, the words stuck in the back of his throat.

How could he say it? How could he admit to his own weakness, how could he ever face himself in the mirror again, knowing what he'd done? It was more than seventeen years now, more than seventeen years since he'd first met Olivia. Seventeen years of resisting this temptation, seventeen years of remembering his vows, honoring wife and partner both. Seventeen years of toeing the line, and he'd thrown it all away last night. Broken every promise he'd ever made, to Kathy, to Olivia, to himself.

Why now? That's what he kept wondering. For the thirteen long years of their partnership he'd been strong enough to do the right thing, strong enough to shield the ones he loved from the traitorous longings of his heart, but he hadn't made it two whole months in Omaha without giving in. There was something about this place, he thought. Something was different, here. Maybe he was different here; the job with the Marshals was nothing like SVU, was not a calling, was not a crusade, and it didn't matter to him, not really, not the way Special Victims had. Out here he was lonesome, and angry, and had no outlet for that anger. Out here under the endless expanse of the midwestern sky he felt as if he were living another man's life altogether.

Liv was different out here, too. She'd always been wild, reckless, a gun half-cocked, but out here she was free, in a way she'd never really been before. If he was lonely, Christ, how lonesome must she have been, with no one to keep her company save for her own little boy? Her little boy, and her memories, the memories of the things that had been done to her, the pain she had endured when Elliot was not there to save her.

"Sir?" the priest prompted him; he'd been quiet too long.

"I've been unfaithful to my wife," Elliot said roughly, quickly, before he could stop himself.

There, he thought. It's out in the open now. No taking it back.

"This is a grave sin," the priest said slowly.

"Tell me what to do, father," Elliot responded, almost begging. Christ, he just wanted someone to tell him what to do, someone to tell him how to fix this. How to save them all.

"You must tell your wife," the priest began, and Elliot's heart started to pound in his chest like a kickdrum as dread swirled through his gut. "You must not compound the sin of infidelity with dishonesty."

What would she say, he wondered; what would Kathy say when he told her the truth? When she learned that she'd been right all along, right to mistrust his relationship with Olivia, to mistrust him? Did she think it was inevitable, he wondered, only a matter of time? Had she been waiting seventeen years for this moment, would she take a morbid satisfaction in knowing her instincts were correct? No, he thought, more likely she'd be blindsided; after all, she didn't even know Olivia was here. Shit, he thought; he couldn't tell her it was Liv. He had to protect Olivia, had to keep her secret; he might have no choice but to be dishonest, no matter what the priest said. How much worse would that be, telling Kathy he'd been unfaithful and refusing to name the woman? If he said Olivia Kathy might have understood, in a way, but if she thought it was a stranger, just some random woman Elliot had only just met who caught his eye? Somehow that seemed like a bigger betrayal. Somehow that seemed truly unforgivable in a way that touching Olivia did not.

"I don't want to hurt her," Elliot said earnestly, sadly. "She's the mother of my children. I…I love her." Why had those words suddenly become so hard to say? "She's a good woman, and she deserves better than this."

"You say you don't want to hurt her, but you already have. Honesty now is far kinder than a lie, however much it may hurt in the moment."

"And if she leaves me, father?"

"That's her decision to make." The church wouldn't support her if she did, but that hadn't stopped her the first time.

"You have choices to make, too. If you intend to save your marriage, you cannot see this woman again. It was a woman, wasn't it?"

"Yes," he didn't really know what to make of the priest's insinuation that Elliot might have fucked a man, "but, father, I have to see her. For my job."

"You can find another job. You only have one wife."

Til death do us part. That was what he promised Kathy, the day he married her. What he promised her again when they renewed their vows, when she was pregnant with Eli and Elliot moved back into the house. A solemn vow, sworn before God. One man, one life, one wife, forever and ever, amen. How different would all their lives have been, he wondered, if he hadn't been married when he met Olivia?

"I have to support my family," Elliot said. "And for now, this job is the only way to do that."

It was a thin excuse, really. There were other things he could do. He could call Buck, get back into the private security work. See if the Italy job was still available. Hell, he could become a security guard, or join the force in another city. The NYPD might even take him back. He didn't have to stay here, in the ass end of nowhere, shredding his family to pieces with his own two hands. But he couldn't leave Olivia. Not again.

Not now, knowing all the things he'd learned last night. He'd never really admitted it to himself before, but for the last four years the knowledge that Olivia was still out there, still alive, still fighting the good fight, the hope that she might be happy, that she might be living a better, more vibrant life without him, had given him the reassurance he needed to keep going. The things he read in those transcripts last night had shattered that dream. He knew the truth, now, knew that she had been hurt, and lonesome, knew that he had come so damnably close to losing her and any hope of reconciliation forever, and the knowing of it left him anxious for her. He could not abandon her again; he could not stand to wound her that way, and he wasn't sure he'd survive the separation.

"Forgive me for saying this," the priest said then. "But I think I recognize your voice. You've been here before, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"You confessed to me about a woman. A woman you cared for, a woman you thought you'd hurt. Is that right?"

"Yes." Yes, Elliot had come to the priest two weeks ago, in search of solace, in search of guidance. The priest had told him then precisely what he was saying now; you must remove the temptation, or it may grow too great for you to bear.

"And now you've been unfaithful with her."

"Yes."

It was like a soap opera, really. Probably not the first story of its kind the priest had heard, though.

"You must ask yourself - what is it about this woman that you can't walk away from?"

Everything, he thought. It was everything. She was everything.

"She…she's…she's…"

What was she? A good woman, yes. A brave woman, a strong woman. Insightful, funny, fierce. A woman who had been hurt, so many times, in so many ways, a woman he could not bear to hurt again. But she was more than that, too. A light in the darkness. A brilliant star, guiding him home. The beating heart in his chest, the blood in his veins, the other half of his soul. Why couldn't he walk away from her, why couldn't he forget her? He could no more forget his own name.

"I love her, father," he said finally, quietly. Seventeen years of fighting, and it all came down to the one simple truth, a truth he knew now he'd never be able to outrun. "I think I've always loved her. I've tried so hard, for so long, but she…"

She was the breath in his lungs, and he could not imagine his life without her.

"Go and speak to your wife," the priest said, and it was strange, but Elliot thought the guy sounded a little sad.

"And then what? Couple of rosaries?"

"You can pray, if you like," the priest said grimly. "But you know already what you must do. You know the choices in front of you, and you know which choice I believe to be the right one. Prayer may give you strength, but that strength must come from you, and from your devotion to God. You say it's been years. How many rosaries have you prayed over this woman and your feelings for her?"

More than he could ever count.

"Too many."

"And yet, here you are. Tell your wife the truth. And then you must decide. Your family, or this woman. The choice is yours."

He had never, in his life, heard a priest speak to him so bluntly. But maybe the guy had a point; whatever he'd been doing for the last seventeen years, however he thought he was managing his conflicting desires, clearly it wasn't working. Something had to change. A rosary wasn't gonna be enough, not this time.

But what could he possibly say to that? Should he thank the guy, or just ask to end the confession already? Could he just pray the act of contrition and be absolved? Could there be absolution, for a man like him, after what he'd done?

Before he could formulate a response his phone began to ring, and the priest tutted disapprovingly from the other side of the screen.

"You really should turn that off before you come in here," he said.

"I have to keep it on for work," Elliot explained apologetically as he fished the phone out of his pocket, but his heart sank when he saw the name Kathy lighting up the screen.

"It's my wife."

"Answer it, son."

So he did.

"Kath?" he said her name anxiously, preparing himself for her anger. He'd been gone since last night, hadn't checked in with her this morning, she had to be worried about him.

"Sir?" a man's unfamiliar voice responded. "My name is Mike Cole, I'm an EMT with the city of Omaha. I'm afraid there's been an accident. It's your wife."