She's doing this all wrong.
It bothers her when she's like this. When she stammers and falters and does the wrong thing. After all, she's supposed to be flawless. Perfect Captain Benson, commanding and fierce. A perfect mother, loving and steadfast.
Being a perfect friend, however, has always been tricky for her. She never quite figured out how to maintain even her closest familial ones, as proven recently by her months-long absence from Amanda.
And her decade-long absence from Elliot. Or rather, his decade-long absence from her.
It's taken her that decade (and several sessions with Dr. Lindstrom) to reconcile that she was never just Elliot's friend. She was his partner: a word encompassing a psychiatrist's vocabulary to dissect.
Being a perfect partner again, to Elliot, has been difficult to recapture.
The mechanics of it are there- they fell in step like a day passed instead of a decade. Their uncanny mindreading, the anticipation of each other's next move- Pavlovian. She fired his gun, hand over hand, and she leaped into his arms unabashedly, a hip full of birdshot negating any embarrassment or pride. He was her partner, then and now, and it scares her to death how much she's missed him.
She didn't realize how badly she wanted these moments again, how much she craved them. The simplicity of easy banter over a meal, the measure of safety deep in her marrow, his watchful gaze penetrating depths she forgot existed, calming the waves of anxiety and regret.
He hugged her in the middle of that urgent care center, full of subsiding fear and immense relief.
She didn't realize how badly she wanted a kiss instead.
Partner. He said it so effortlessly on his way out of her life again. He said it with permanence. A promise. A vow.
Looking back, she's been living the last two years teetering on eggshells, waiting for the house of cards to collapse. Expecting abandonment, loneliness, and hurt. Then, for a moment, living with the idealization and possibility of it all until he slipped his wedding ring back on. And then she became the person she knows too well. Too empathetic. Too protective. Too understanding. Too much.
Twenty minutes ago, he gave her a compass. To lead her to happiness, whatever that means in his absence. All she can think of is that the compass only points to him, always has.
After twenty minutes of pretending to work but staring at the compass, she jumps up, rummages in her desk for something, and throws it haphazardly into a bag. She tells Fin to hold down the fort, and for once, she doesn't say where she's going.
She's breathless when Elliot opens the door and shoulders past him into his kitchen.
"Liv? What's going on? You okay?" His voice is laced with concern as he approaches her slowly. She knows she must look like a caged animal ready to pounce but cannot reign in her emotions. Not about this.
"No, I'm not okay. Here." She places a small paper bag in his hand, the same crumpled one he used an hour ago that contained her necklace. He reaches in, pulls out the small piece of gold, and everything stops. He's staring, thumbing over something precious and sacred and hers.
His voice is barely a whisper. "I didn't know you got it. You've kept it all this time?"
She has. It was the only thing she wanted after her bout with Lewis- the only evidence from the crime she needed to see again. The only before to hold onto in the after. The piece of herself she stole back, a glimmer of a dream plucked from an evidence box of nightmares. A tiny gold badge, hidden away in her office.
Until now.
And now, in this new silence, she calculates her misstep in this endeavor: his misery. A crumpled face etched with worry and weariness.
"It wasn't enough, Liv, I left you, and you didn't deserve it. It wasn't fair. I failed you."
And now she's doing this all wrong. He's stunned and misunderstanding, and she's rendered speechless by the unexpected tears, this moment slipping away, a retreat imminent. They can't go backward. Not now. She finds her voice.
"No, El, that's not why I'm giving it back. It's not a punishment. Please don't think that." She grabs his hand, imploring him to look at her. "I can't let you leave without knowing this. I told you it was empathy before, and it wasn't. I mean, of course, I empathize about Kathy, about you mourning her and needing time, but I looked at you like that because I'm worried about you. Because I care about you, I miss you. I need you in my life, no matter how that looks."
She gestures toward the mini badge, explaining her spontaneity. "What I meant was... I miss my partner, and that's the one thing this gift taught me- no matter what, we're partners."
She bravely cups his face, nuzzling into his cheek, daring a confession twenty-five years in the making.
"What I meant was… I love you."
The kiss is even sweeter than she imagined.