He was an asshole. He always knew it- never needed anyone to tell him, even though he was reminded of it frequently. He was an asshole toward his kids and in the eyes of his brothers. Even his mother couldn't forget him if she tried.
He was especially an asshole towards Olivia. Unquestionably, undoubtedly, irrevocably. He knew it a thousand times over but had another damning confirmation of it now when the compass led her straight into the arms of someone else. When she tearfully gave it back to him, telling him that after months of therapy, of trying to forgive and forget, of holding onto the compass like a shield in times of struggle and grief, she couldn't get over the decade of desertion. It would always be there, a chasm of hurt, pain, and longing. He missed too much, the events that fundamentally changed her, and there was no going back to who she was before. There was no returning to who they were, and moving forward was insurmountable. She was never his first choice. And she deserved to be someone's first choice.
Olivia asked him for time and space and said goodbye in a way that pulverized him because it sounded final.
He deserved it all. Fighting her logic and wishes and confessing that she's always been his first choice, even if he could never voice it, would have been futile and unfair. So, he respected her decision and let her go.
Two days later, he was shot in an alley.
Ironically, he wasn't working. He wasn't doing a dangerous UC assignment or backing up his team in a gunfight. He had just left a bar, day drinking with a grasp on the compass, perseverating over all of the hurt he'd caused everyone, especially the love of his life.
(He'll discover later that two shady guys sitting at the end of the bar watched him play with the necklace, noting the diamonds and the expense. They followed him out, shot him in the back, and plucked the necklace from his pocket before escaping down the alley.)
Elliot had his cell phone accessible and could have thumbed the emergency button. Instead, he bled out quietly, awaiting his fate. It was time- time to put everyone out of the misery his return to New York had caused: his wife's death, his consistent estrangement from his family, and his destroyed friendship with Olivia. He felt worthless as a husband, father, son, and especially a cop, allowing himself to die in an alley without taking note of any risks in his periphery. Forty years of training wasted in a single moment.
This was how it was going to end.
As his vision clouded and the pain turned to numbness, the sounds of New York surrounding him, yelling and sirens and chaos, he succumbed to the exhaustion invading his fuzzy brain and weakened body.
He awoke to the sounds of a hospital instead: the steady beep of a monitor, the faint whooshing of an annoyingly placed oxygen mask, the hiccuping sniffles and faint murmurs of the worried chatter of all five of his children, keeping vigil at his bedside.
Elliot remained still for a few minutes, taking in the rest of the sounds. Another voice broke through the haze, consoling his brood, offering her wisdom, guidance, and love. A voice quiet and deep, reverent and empathetic.
Olivia.
His eyes flew open, blinking ferociously against the fluorescent hue burning his retinas. He felt panicked, realizing just how connected he was to tubes and wires, and thrashed against the bedsheets wildly. His kids were upon him immediately.
"Dad, don't try to talk. You were intubated until this morning. It will take some time to get your voice back, okay?"
He tried to relax, taking deep breaths through the cannula jammed into his nose as the kids gripped his hands and kissed his cheeks, hearts full of relief. After a fashion, Maureen suggested they all take a trip to the cafeteria so the doctor could check on him, gratefully designating Olivia as his watchful guardian until their return.
When all was quiet, he stared at the ceiling, afraid that Olivia wasn't really there, she wasn't really real, until she approached and threaded her hand in his, stroking his arm with the other. He turned then, seeing something familiar and sparkly hanging from Olivia's neck. The compass. His look of confusion and surprise must have been palpable as her hand traveled to caress his cheek.
"You got a shot off before you collapsed. The unis found it wrapped in the guy's hand. The other guy took off, but we'll get the fucker. I think every cop in the city is on this."
She shrugged. "I'm tired of my jewelry sitting in Evidence. Perks of being a captain- I went and took it back. It's been photographed and cataloged, and I already had Jet track down the insurance policy so we could nail the perp for attempted murder and felony grand theft. By the way, you're an asshole for spending ten grand on me, you know that?"
He couldn't stop looking at her. At her beautiful, tear-streaked face, her disheveled hair, her trembling hands, and the compass back in its rightful place upon her neck. The tears stung his eyes, realizing the pain he caused her again. Pain she didn't deserve. He was better off dead in that alley.
"Your kids adore you, Elliot. They need you. You're not leaving them, got it?"
He nodded as the wet spilled over, her waiting thumb wiping the tears away and smearing them onto his gown.
"And don't you ever scare me like this again, you hear me, partner?" She took a deep, shaky breath. "I need you to grow old with me."
"Liv," he finally whispered, shaking his head. She met his weepy eyes- she could always read him- and knew what he was desperate to say. Don't do this. It's not what you want. I'm no good for you. You deserve better.
Olivia looked down at their joined hands. "I was afraid before, when I said what I said and gave you the compass back. I was afraid to love you. Turns out I was too late- I already did. I've loved you since the day we met, and I can't stop loving you. You're stuck with me, okay?"
He wanted to stay awake but felt himself drifting, Olivia whispering to him to get some rest. His last conscious thought was a prayer to God, thanking him for this second chance to get it right and be the man that she deserved.