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It’s past midnight when Olivia finally leaves her office, ignoring the voices calling her name, congratulating her, congratulating her for shooting a man right between the eyes on Christmas.
Yes, she had saved the city as someone had pointed out, but what about her soul? What about her fucking breaking heart?
The drive is quiet as she focuses on the road ahead of her, not wanting that melancholy feeling she knows will sink in the second her eyes catch sight of families, couples enjoying their holiday. She’s been there before, too many times. That inherent sadness that comes with losing, with the acid taste of death.
She blinks slowly when she’s forced to stop at a red light, and something flashes inside her. Olivia isn’t impulsive, she’s trained to calculate her moves, although Fin would argue that she recklessly throws herself in front of bullets and cars and hopes for the best.
She knows this to be true, and in that flash of impulsivity, she decides that tonight she will be selfish. She reaches forward and turns on her siren, the vehicle lights flashing bright red and blue, and then everyone is out of her way.
Speeding through the streets, and into a residential neighborhood, her arrival causes a commotion, and then she sees the figure she’s been after.
Yeah, tonight she just wants to be selfish.
She kills the sirens and lights and engines and gets out of the car, shutting the door with a little too much force and Elliot meets her in the middle of the street.
“Hey, you okay?” Elliot approaches her, and the exhausted and hardened look of determination on Olivia’s face half amuses him and half scares him.
“You said you wanted a balanced relationship,” Olivia presses out, “Well, you can have it.”
“Tell me what happened,” Elliot places an arm around her shoulders and guides her inside, through the garden.
All the lights are off except for the stove light in the kitchen. She pushes the guilt aside.
“This about the bombs?” Elliot asks, his hand coming to her nape as they sit on a bench.
She lurches forward, resting her elbows on her knees, passing her hands over her face.
“You know this only works if you talk to me, don’t you?” Elliot pushes gently, and she finally turns her head towards him, a glare in her eyes.
“I just need you,” Olivia says. “I needed to see you.”
“Come here, Liv,” Elliot says and pulls her into his arms and she falls into them, giving way to a soft, wailing cry.
“It’s fucking Christmas, Elliot,” Olivia sniffled, her tears seeping into his t-shirt.
He slips his hand under her blazer, rubs her back slowly, with a strength that surprises her and that presses her against him tighter.
“They say I-” She chuckles bitterly, “Saved the city. That I should get a medal.” She scoffs. “What good is a fucking medal going to do me when Noah asks where I’ve been? How am I supposed to look my son in the eyes and tell him I killed someone? And don’t say he deserved it, it doesn’t matter if he did or not, I pulled the trigger.”
Elliot nods, presses his lips to her forehead and with a gentleness that rivals the strength of the hand on her back, he brushes away her tears. “I know…” He whispers.
She nods, she knows he knows. He’s killed a sixteen year old girl. It knocked his life out of orbit, knocked them both out of orbit.
“How did you-?” She looks up at him suddenly, brown eyes glassy shimmering under the garden lights. “No, don’t answer that. You didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t,” Elliot shakes his head. “I just… therapy helped.”
“Therapy? Elliot Stabler?” Olivia raises her eyebrow, the sadness leaving her eyes for a moment and is replaced by amusement. “You willingly went to therapy?”
It’s so easy how they understand each other, how the questions have answers without being asked. How they’re in the same page, in the same channel, in each other’s heads.
“Well, things change,” Elliot nods.
“Yeah they do,” Olivia agrees. “I’m fine, I’ll be fine.”
“You won’t for a while,” Elliot shakes his head, offers her a pitiful smile, one she appreciates. She doesn’t have to pretend with him, in fact, it’s useless, they see through each other. They always do. “But that’s okay.”
“After a day like this…” She muses, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’d normally go home, drink enough to sleep, then in the morning I pick up Noah from Lucy’s and take him to eat waffles for breakfast.” She pauses. “I just… I can’t tonight.”
“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Elliot brushes some hair behind her ear, and she looks up at him expectantly.
And, God she thinks, she’s willing, she’s so willing to be taken care of, so ready to just be selfish.
“We’re gonna get some food in your stomach,” He says in a voice so deep and soft that she’s melting. “A glass of wine to take the edge off. And then we’re going to get you in the bath, and then we’re sleeping.”
She sucks her lower lip between her teeth and she nods. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay,” She nods, already getting up, eager for the food.
It’s lasagna, homemade, and she jokes that Italy finally made a decent man out of him. It’s a loaded thing to say, she knows this, but New York has made him hers again, and it doesn’t matter that she’s possibly touched a nerve because of the history with Kathy, because tonight she’s being selfish.
He leaves her alone for a few minutes, and then guides her into his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind them, Bernie likes to check on him when she thinks he’s asleep, he explains.
He’s prepared a bath for her, and whatever he’s thrown into the water smells delicious. She leaves the door ajar and sinks into the bubbles, closing her eyes.
It’s a few minutes of blessed silence, of the steaming scent of flowers until he steps in. Her eyes fall open, droopy and tired and she offers him a soft smile when he places a glass of wine at the edge of the tub.
“Get you anything else?” Elliot asks her quietly, and she rolls her head towards him, closing her eyes.
“Yeah…” She looks up at him. “Get in with me.”
“Liv…”
She can tell she’s shocked him.
“I just need company, can I have it?” She asks, and he nods.
She watches him undress, his t-shirt, his pants, until he’s down to a pair of briefs, and to her amusement, he keeps them on as he gauges the best way to join her.
Olivia slides forward and gestures for him to get in behind her. He does, his thighs flanking her hips and she hums as she rests back on his chest.
Elliot swallows, wraps her in his arms and she closes her eyes. His fingers play with her hair.
This is why she loves him. She’s naked in a bathtub, his transgressions all but forgiven, and his touch is soft, furtive, comforting.
His skin is hot against her cheek, his heartbeat is fast, and she feels safe engulfed in his arms.
“This city needs a lot of saving…” Olivia drawls lazily, reaching for the wine and takes a long sip.
“Doesn’t have to be you all the time…” He kisses her hair, tightens his arms around her, his hands resting on her stomach.
“Why’d you keep your briefs on?” Olivia asks him, quirking an eyebrow, her tone even, softened, a far cry from the angst from earlier.
“Cause we’re friends…” Elliot says, sliding a hand up her arm to her shoulder, squeezing her gently.
She laughs.
“Hey, my friend Elliot…” She starts, a tired smirk on her lips.
“Yeah?”
“I missed Christmas with my son, and I was wondering if you and your family want to get together for a do-over?” She asks.
“Oh wow, well I might have to think about it,” He smirks, and she rolls her eyes at his impression of her.
“Don’t,” Olivia nuzzles her nose against his. “Just come…”
He smiles, presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “Okay…”
“Merry Do-Over Christmas, El…”
“Merry Do-Over Christmas, Liv…”