11He hopes he's gotten it all out of his system. The anger. As much work as he's been trying to do on himself, for himself, when something like this happens, he feels like it's all been for nothing. Some days it's like it's a decade ago and he's just been told Kathy's leaving and taking his kids. Elliot can't remember a time in his life when he's ever felt so absolutely useless…helpless.
Vincent was his responsibility. He promised the guy that his safety was a priority. He could hear the kid screaming his name and there was nothing he could do. He didn't see what was happening until it was too late.
Then, there are parallels to Jenna Fox. He feels just as guilty for Vincent's death as if he had pulled the trigger himself. And forty-five minutes on a heavy bag in OC's gym and a lukewarm shower only helped to dim about 1% of that guilt.
"Elliot?"
He turns to find Olivia standing a few feet from him just beyond the closed door. He's managed to get his bottom half dressed but remains shirtless.
"Sorry," she says, turning away. "Jet told me you'd been down here for a while so I assumed you were on the way back up."
He tilts his head in amusement then…
"Liv, you've seen me in fewer clothes," he smirks. "You can turn around."
He sits on the bench in front of his locker and pulls on socks.
"That was a long time ago," she reminds him. "Don't wanna make assumptions."
He smirks and stands to grab a clean shirt from a hanger.
"Have I ever struck you as the shy type?"
"Only when it comes to discussing your feelings," she points out, stepping closer. "Just wanted to let you know we caught one of Sirenko's guys."
"He saying anything?"
"Nobody's gone at him yet," she answers. "I'm giving you the opportunity to have the first crack at him."
He bites his bottom lip and nods.
"Thanks, Liv."
She gives her own nod then switches gears.
"I'm so sorry about Vincent," Olivia offers.
"Yeah well, what are you gonna do?" He asks rhetorically, before making an attempt to move past her.
She grabs hold of his bicep, turning him to face her again.
"You know you can still talk to me," she rasps. "Always."
The blues of his eyes cloud with tears as he shakes his head, trying to avoid letting them fall.
"It's a luxury I don't deserve," he manages. "Liv, I…"
Olivia reaches for his hand.
"Well, you're getting it anyway."
"He trusted me," he says, finally meeting her eyes. "I failed him just like I failed…just like…
Olivia pulls him into her arms and Elliot releases what he's been trying to hold in for the last few hours. One arm encircles his waist while the other makes large soothing strokes over his broad back. For his part, he buries his face in her hair and holds on so tightly she has trouble taking full breaths for a minute until he calms.
"Sorry," he says, pulling away.
"Hey, no," Olivia tells him. "Don't apologize," she adds. "Just because we still have shit to work out doesn't mean we can't be there for each other."
He holds her eyes for a moment before nodding and taking a cleansing breath.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," she says. "Now come on. I have calls to make and you have an asshole to try and break."
Three Days Later…
Olivia exits Amanda's room leaving her alone with Carisi. She hasn't yet awakened from surgery but the nurses have assured them both that her vital signs are steady and already improving.
But the captain has been in this boat before. Mike Dodds had also survived the surgery. He was actually awake and talking before things went to shit so, it's hard for her to remain optimistic.
She goes to the family waiting room to check in with Noah and Lucy and sits down for more than two seconds. The next time the door opens is a welcome surprise.
"Elliot. What are you doing here?"
He hands her a cup of coffee.
"I hope that's okay," he says, not answering. "I didn't know if you took it the same way or not so—
"—I'm sure it's fine. Thank you. But shouldn't you be trying to locate a bomb?"
"We have an entire task force for that," he says with a smirk. "I can take an hour to see how my partner is doing when one of hers gets shot."
Olivia's stoic exterior at once falls away.
"What's her status?"
"She made it out of surgery."
"That's always good."
She puts her coffee on an end table and takes a corner of the sofa. Elliot does the same, leaving little space between them, their thighs touching.
"Yeah," she says, leaving the story for Dodds for another time. "Amanda is definitely a fighter."
"She has a family?"
"Her parents and sister are…a complicated bunch," Olivia answers. "But she also has two daughters, Billie and Jessie," she answers. "I'm the godmother for both."
"That's great, Liv," Elliot says. "And her and Carisi?"
"Together," she tells him, managing a smile. "They also used to be partners in SVU."
"Wow."
"Yeah. But they work," Olivia informs him. "Balance each other out."
"Which one is the hardheaded one?"
She laughs fully this time.
"It's definitely Rollins," she answers. "Carisi is calm and rational for the most part unless she's doing something impulsive and dangerous."
"Sounds familiar."
"Of course, it does."
A few beats pass before she leans forward and covers her face with both hands. Elliot wastes no time placing his warm palm on her back. Even through her leather blazer, she can feel its weight.
"I can't lose her, El," she tries. "I can't…not her too."
"Come here."
Olivia turns and rests her head in the crook of his neck as he puts his arms around her. He kisses her temple as if it's something he does every day. It's the most comforted and safe she's felt in a ridiculously long time.
He's been on the job long enough not to try and placate her with lies or tell her everything will work out when they both know there's a chance they won't.
A few minutes later they pull apart. Elliot reaches for and hands her the box of tissues on the end table. She runs fingers through her hair and he offers his hand.
"Ready?" He asks as she allows him to help her from the sofa.
"Yeah," Olivia tells him, giving his palm a squeeze before releasing it and heading for the door. "Let's go find this son of a bitch."
Two Weeks Later…
Elliot and Olivia walk into her apartment after having gone to a Knicks v. Nets game. Stabler being a born and bred Brooklynite is wearing a Nets t-shirt while Liv is a die-hard Knicks fan, donning her favorite team jacket over a tailored button-down. She wishes she would've splurged and sat next to Spike Lee tonight instead of her former partner.
"We're getting our money's worth out of KD, Kyrie Irving, and Seth Curry," Elliot says, taking her jacket as he hangs his on the coat rack. "That's all I'm sayin'."
"That wasn't all you were saying at the game," Olivia points out, continuing into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge for him and pour a glass of wine for herself. "I thought Fournier was gonna cry for a second."
"Well, he is French," he shrugs, making himself comfortable on her sofa. "The Knicks have one of the biggest budgets in the league, they can afford to do better."
"Just because you have a big budget and can afford to build a monster team, that doesn't equate to cohesiveness or championships," she points out, joining him and passing him the beer. "Lebron and the Lakers are proof of that."
"True," he says, "Or maybe the Knicks just suck," he adds, earning a not-so-playful punch to the arm. "Ow."
"You deserved it," Olivia tells him, unzipping and toeing off her suede ankle boots before scooting back and turning to face him.
"But I'm not wrong," he informs her. "They lost the last three games they played against Brooklyn."
"It's the first regular game of the season," Olivia excuses. "They've got plenty of time to turn it around."
"We'll see," he offers, smirking at her and taking a sip of his beer.
"Yeah, we will."
"So," she begins. "You're back in therapy?"
"Yeah," he admits. "Feels like I was losing myself again."
"Is it helping?" She asks, hopeful.
"Yeah," he repeats. "With Eli moving cross country and mama bunking with Kathleen…it's a lot of change to deal with."
"On top of the changes you've already been dealing with for the last two years."
Elliot nods.
"I didn't wanna use my tried-and-true method of masking my pain as anger and taking it out on perps," he acknowledges. "Now I try to get it all out in therapy or the gym."
She's for damn sure noticed the extra workouts.
"I'm glad to hear that," Olivia tells him. "Makes me less hesitant about letting you be around my son."
Elliot puts a hand on her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"I hope so," he says. "And around you too."
Olivia covers his hand with hers.
"Me I'm not worried about," she admits. "I've always been able to handle your anger."
"Better than anyone I've ever known," taking his hand away. "And you're still pretty quick when it comes to getting between me and my intended targets."
Liv shakes her head as he smirks.
"Not something I want any more practice in doing."
"You gotta admit, the guy was an asshole."
"He was," she tells him. "But I really hope you're working on your self-control with that shrink of yours."
"I have," he says. "And is it me, or are you hitting the weights these days?" He asks. "Your grip was pretty strong when you were holding me back."
Olivia actually laughs at that.
"I mean," Elliot goes on. "Ayanna didn't even try to help," he points out. "When I asked her about it later, you know what she said?"
"Do I even want to?"
"Probably not but I'll tell you anyway," he says, smiling. "She said you have a hell of a lot more experience handling me than she does and there was no way she was getting between Badass Benson and her partner."
Olivia rolls her eyes and sips her beer.
"Again, not something I want any more practice at," she repeats. "I'd much rather try to get between you and another Knicks fan."
"Me too," Elliot admits. "This was fun."
"It was," she agrees, smiling.
It's been such a long time since she's just gone out and enjoyed herself. It feels like old times. She's comfortable with him. Safe. They're finding that balance Elliot spoke about what seems like a lifetime ago.
"We should do it again sometime," he suggests. "Or maybe do something that'll make you less violent like dinner," he adds. "That is…if you're dance card isn't full."
She tilts her head and momentarily squints at him.
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh, you didn't think I saw that guy the size of the statue of liberty slip you his card?" Elliot asks. "He'd be kind of hard to miss."
"Doesn't ring any bells."
It's Elliot's turn to squint in disbelief.
"Really?" He begins. "I saw you stuff it in your jacket pocket. I'll just get it for you."
Elliot stands to retrieve it but Olivia is quicker and tries to rush past him to get to the jacket. He quickly and easily grabs her from behind, spins, and plants her where she started.
"Oh, no you don't!" She yells before jumping on his back.
Her partner simply laughs and continues going as if she's no more a nuisance than a common house fly until…she puts him in a loose choke hold.
"Drop the jacket, Stabler."
"Or what?"
"I'll get Jet to post that carrot picture on the NYPD news bulletin," Olivia threatens. "And she'll do it because she likes me more."
"I don't feel sufficiently threatened so," he reaches inside the pocket and reads. "Mitchell Hunt of the Richardson, Pruitt, and Hunt Brokerage firm," he continues as she dejectedly bumps her forehead against his nape. "And look, there's a message."
"Please don't—
"—The ball's in your court," Elliot finishes, tucking the card back into her jacket. "How poetic."
"Such a child."
"Says the grown ass woman getting a piggyback ride."
He laughs as he moves back into the living room, and picks up his empty and her glass while maintaining his hold on Olivia so she doesn't fall.
"This gives a whole new meaning to the term 'having my back'," he says, planting her on the counter and turning to face her.
She crosses her legs at the ankles and rests both hands on the granite while Elliot butts his up against them.
"I missed this," he rasps, standing as close as her knees allow.
"Giving me shit? I can tell."
"Yes and…no," Elliot says. "Just this…this natural, indescribable, ease and comfort that's really ever only happened being around you," he adds. "I don't have to hide any parts of myself. Couldn't even if I wanted to."
Everything he just said is infinitely better than a hollow 'I love you' or a letter full of someone else's thoughts about them.
"How about that," she begins, her voice affected. "Me too."
Olivia uncrosses her legs and reaches to put both palms against his face as he smooths his hands up her thighs. His touch sends sparks through her jeans and into her skin. They concentrate on one another for a few moments before Elliot notices her focus slip to his mouth.
"Can I—
"—Yes."
She leans in slowly, almost fearfully. He meets her halfway but as always, Elliot waits for Olivia to decide. The kiss is unhurried. Because truthfully after thirteen years of resisting the temptation and two years of wondering what it'd be like, they don't have to rush a thing.
There is no first-time awkwardness. They lean in opposite directions. Elliot nibbles on her bottom lip. Olivia suckles at his top. He opens his mouth first and she tastes his beer while he samples her wine. And when it's time to breathe, they simply rest their foreheads together before diving in again.
Minutes later, after they decide to stop before they get carried away, Elliot and Olivia take time to hold each other the way they've always needed to, wanted to, and deserved to.
"El?"
"Yeah, Liv."
"I'm not gonna call, Mitchell."
"No?" He asks, pulling back to meet her eyes.
"No," she answers. "I only have one opening on Team Benson right now and I already have my eye on a prospect."
"So, you'll go to dinner?" Elliot asks with a grin.
"Yes," she tells him. "You doing any more recruiting for Team Stabler or is it just me?" She asks with a smirk and a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Just you," he promises. "And you're the captain."
"Of SVU, yeah," she tells him. "That's why you say my title like that."
It's Elliot's turn to get a devilish look. For the first time since they've known each other, he knowingly peruses her body as if she's naked. When he meets her eyes again, she's furiously blushing and biting her bottom lip.
"If you say so," he says. "You need a piggyback ride to the door or are you gonna use your own two feet to walk me out?"
Olivia pushes him out of the way and hops down without his help. She does her own gawking of his well-built body as Elliot walks that walk of his to the coatrack.
"I'll call you and we'll figure out a good time for dinner," he says, pulling on his leather bomber.
"Looking forward to it."
There's no hesitation when he reaches for her and now that they know what the other tastes like, it's hard to remain in control. It explains why five minutes later Olivia's button-down is completely untucked, Elliot's jacket is on the floor and her hands are beneath his t-shirt on his chest and abs. His warm palms roam the small expanse of her back and she is seconds away from dragging him to her bedroom.
"We should stop," she says breathlessly as he lavishes his tongue against the soft skin of her neck and covers it in open-mouthed kisses. "Carisi should be dropping Noah off soon."
When Elliot pulls back, seeing how hooded his lids are and how dark his blues have become with desire does not make the decision easier.
"You're right," he rasps. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize," Olivia tells him, managing to put some distance between herself and his heat and scent. "We both got a little…overwhelmed."
Elliot picks up his jacket. puts it back on and they manage to make it to the door. She reaches up to wipe smudged lipstick from his mouth, failing to hold back a grin at the knowledge that it's hers.
"What's that look about?"
"Nothing," she tells him. "Just…I think tonight is exactly what we needed to move out of that whole 'friends for now' thing."
"Me too," he agrees, giving her one last kiss before opening the door. "Night, Liv."
"Night, El."