It takes everything in me, not to call you
And I wish I could run to you
And I hope you know that every time I don't
I almost do.
Taylor Swift, "I almost do"
For a while Olivia laid in bed. She wasn't sure what she should do. She didn't exactly want to invite Elliot into her bed. That would be too much too fast, but she also didn't want to wake Noah up by talking in the living room. She didn't exactly want Noah waking up to a guy he had only met a couple times hanging out in his apartment in the middle of the night.
She sighed and rolled out of bed, and wandered sleepily into the kitchen. She kept the lights dim, but scrounged around for a couple of tea bags. She should call him and tell him to go home. Everything was fine. She was fine. Well, more fine than she had been the last time he entered her apartment that night so many months ago.
While she let the water heat her mind wandered to her dream. Her body tingled at the memory of his warm hands on her body. His face was so close, much like it had been in the kitchen that night. She shook the thoughts away. She didn't want to go back to that night. He took a chance and she shot him down…and she had second guessed herself every moment since.
She poured some hot water into a mug and dropped the tea bag inside. She watched the tea bag seep into the clear water, changing it to a deeper brown. She left a second tea bag out, on the chance that Elliot might be up for tea…at 3 am. She shook her head at the absurdity of the entire situation. She again talked herself out of calling him and telling him to go home. He would be at her place soon, and calling him now was useless.
She wrapped her hands around the mug and let the hot ceramic warm her fingers. She jumped at the sound of a key turning in the lock. The sound seemed to echo through her near silent apartment.
-000-
He second guessed himself the entire drive to Olivia's apartment. She said she was fine, but he knew she wasn't. He knew exactly how the day had gone for her, and she wasn't fine. He knew she possessed the ability to see herself through rough days, but he wanted her to understand that she didn't have to do it alone. He wanted to show her that he could be there for her. He could show up for her. He could be what she needed. If she let him.
He realized there was a real chance she would send him packing once she was fully awake and cognizant of the implications of his middle of the night visit. Not that that was what he was coming for, but like it or not it would appear that way.
He felt nervous riding the elevator to her floor. His palms began to sweat and he unceremoniously wiped them against his pants. He had been in literal life or death situations and didn't sweat this much. He took a breath and shook it off. The last time he stood in her kitchen in the middle of the night, he pushed too hard and she avoided him for months. That's not what he wanted. Not again. As he approached her door he reminded himself that he was there for her in whatever way she needed, and whatever pace she set he would follow. He didn't really have another choice.
He fumbled with his keys, as he tried to find the right one. He kept it on his regular key ring, next to his own house key. It wasn't like he had used hers often…or ever, but there was a small sense of intimacy in a set of house keys settled together on the same key ring.
He turned the key and quietly opened the door. The apartment was mostly dark, and nearly silent. His eyes automatically drifted to the dim kitchen light, and the woman who stood beneath it. She was breathtaking. She was perfect. Her hair was clipped back, and she wore a pair of leggings and… a well worn hoodie. The dawning realization made him swallow deeply. It was his hoodie…their hoodie.
Her large brown eyes followed his movement as he moved towards the kitchen. She remained silent and unmoving. He stopped once he approached the counter, giving her space and a barrier between them. If she wanted his proximity she could take it, but he wasn't going to push into her bubble. His eyes never left hers as he waited for something to happen.
The silence stretched on long enough that it began to become uncomfortable. Olivia shifted her weight and wrapped her arms around herself. In that position it looked like the sweatshirt might actually swallow her up. She but her lip and finally spoke. "I made some tea, I, uh, I have another bag if you want, or I guess you could have this one if you want, and I could make another one." She was filling the air with words, none of which had any real meaning.
He stepped to the side of the counter. He moved carefully, still giving her space, but reaching for her hand. To his surprise she allowed him to hold her hand. "I'm fine. I don't need anything." He hesitated, but powered through. "I'm not here for me…what do you need."
Her eyes remained plastered to their joined hands, and he tried to slow the nervous pounding of his heart. He waited for her to panic, withdraw, but she didn't. After a moment her dark eyes moved back to his face, "Sit with me maybe?"
He let out a relieved sigh at the invitation. She maintained the hold on his hand as she led him to her couch. She allowed him to sit first before sitting in the other side of the couch. It was almost ridiculous how far away she was, and she never let go of his hand so their hands sort of settled in the couch cushion between them. It reminded him of their relationship as it currently stood. She wanted to be close, but still maintain distance. It was paradoxical and down right frustrating. Maybe she needed a gentle nudge. "You can sit closer, you know." He kept his voice light, almost teasing, but there was nothing light about the uncertainty in her eyes. He wanted her to be the one who moved closer, but she seemed so far away and he wanted her to hear what he had to say. He lifted their hands and shifted onto the cushion closer. She didn't seem any more tense than she had been so he kept her hand in his and rested them on his knee. "Look Liv, I didn't come over here tonight expecting anything. I don't want you think that's why I'm here."
"I know. I guess I wasn't really expecting you to drop everything and come over at three in the morning."
He shook her hand a little to bring her attention back in his face. "I hope you know I would drop everything if you needed me. A few hours of sleep is nothing and I was obviously awake anyway."
She accepted the answer easily enough. "It was a pretty crappy day," she admitted.
"Yeah?" He squeezed her hand, "I might have heard a little about it."
"Fin." She said without thinking.
He chuckled. "Yeah. Called me on my way home from work."
She paused, thinking about something for a moment before saying, "So he calls you after work and you wait until 3am to text me because…?"
He leaned his head back and rested it on the back of the couch. He sighed. "It took me that long to decide if I should call you, or just leave you alone." He rubbed his thumb across her fingers. "I finally decided to just text you. I don't know, Liv." He sighed again and rolled his head in her direction, still resting it on the couch back. "I just wanted to be here for you, and I'm worried, I'm just going to screw it all up." He lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. "I want you to see that you don't have to be alone unless you want to be. Day or night, I got your back partner." He gave her a genuine smile that broadened when he noticed her trying not to smile back.
She voluntarily scoot closer so she could rest her head in his shoulder and he dropped his arm around her. His fingers drew light patterns on the fabric of the sweatshirt she wore. "This looks familiar," he noted.
She pulled the sleeves over hands, "You should. After all…it's yours."
"It was," he agreed, "but I think we both know it ended up being yours."
She smiled at that. Back then he acted annoyed at her penchant for stealing random items of clothing from his locker, but he actually loved it. Seeing her in his clothes…there was so little they could share with each other back then, and it was silly but it made him feel more connected to her somehow.
"Where'd you pull that from?" He doubted it was part of her everyday wear.
"Well that goes along with the story of my super crappy day…" her voice lightened a little and a part of him dared to hope that maybe they could make some progress.
He shifted his weight so she was reclining agaisnt him. It was a much more comfortable position for both of them as they hunkered down for the story of the day. She laced her fingers through his hand and let both of their hands rest on her thigh. "Well. I had to be at 1PP all day."
He groaned. "Enough said- my condolences."
"Yeah." She agreed simply. "I finally made it back to the precinct but then had to immediately turn around to go to a crime scene." She blew out a long tense breath. "It was one of those that was…a mess. It was a little chaotic when I got there. Turned out no one secured the perimeter and that ended with a crime tech getting knifed."
"Jesus," he muttered.
"He's fine, but it nicked an artery so…"
"More blood," Elliot deduced.
"Yeah. I didn't want to come looking like I stepped out of a slasher movie so I ran back to the precinct. I usually have a bag of clothes for stuff like this but all that was in there was a damn pair of shoes."
He chuckled at that. "Go on," he encouraged.
"It wasn't like I could go home, or shop or anything so I took a nice walk down memory lane to the locker room."
"No way. You found it in a locker…still? Don't they ever clean those out?" He asked in disbelief.
"Apparently not. Might need to talk to the custodial staff about that." She shook her head. "Anyway, I found this and an old t-shirt."
"So you scrounged up some clothes," he teased. "Good work Benson."
"Ha. Ha." She said sarcastically. "We will see who's laughing when your bag of clothes goes missing."
He shrugged, "There really isn't anyone at my place to freak out so I'm in the clear." He said it humorously, but there was an underlying tone of sadness. He shook it off and added. "You could have called," his voice softened. "I could have brought you something."
The mood in the room shifted, and her eyes studied their still joined hands. "I want to call," she began. "I do." She sighed. "Even tonight when I got home I wanted to call. I pulled your name up on my phone, and then I just…I couldn't." She closed her eyes, "Everytime I think I should call, or I want to call… I can't. I almost do, but in the end…" she shrugged. "I just can't. And I'm terrified if I let go of this… Fear…. And I let this happen…" she sighed again. "It almost broke me when you left. If we keep things as they are," she shrugged, "then there is a lot less to lose, I guess." Her eyes dropped to her hands again, and emotion thickened her voice. "I can call you. I could be better about that, but I can't need you. Not like before. If you left again, without a word, without saying goodbye….I can't do that again." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I can't."
It felt like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. She was afraid of him, and that thought was devastating. He knew she would be sad at his absence…maybe mourn him a little, but he figured life would move on and he would be a memory. Then the realization fell on him with crashing clarity. It hurt her so badly because she loved him… and now? She wasn't willing to take this leap because…she loved him too. The thought was humbling, and he wished he had any idea how to fix the mess he made.
I obviously lack the ability to keep things short. Part three coming soon.
