Work Text:
I got a little drunk last night
There's something 'bout a midnight rain
Staring at the ceiling fan
I couldn't get you off my brain
Elliot's head was pounding as he rolled over-and almost right off-of a couch. When he looked up he noticed a picture of Bell and her wife and son and immediately knew that once again he'd screwed up, and bad.
He wasn't quite sure where it all went wrong. They'd been partying and he'd been trying to keep it cool, one sip here, one sip there. Until that girl who was younger than all of his daughters slid onto his lap and started sucking his face like her life depended on it. That's when things started to get a little murky.
He knows he kept it together with Albi and Kosta at the restaurant. He remembers watching the ceiling fan go around and around and all he could think about was Liv. She would know what to do. She would be able to fix this. He remembered stumbling out of the restaurant, and maybe it was raining? Or he was just sweating bullets from whatever the hell that girl put in his mouth. Christ. She probably wasn't even old enough to drink let alone be out partying with a bunch of creepy old men. It was the kind of stuff he used to try to prevent from happening, not encourage it.
And then it hits him like a truck. He showed up, high as holy hell, at Liv's front door.
I guess I wasn't thinking straight
I couldn't tell wrong from right
I went ahead and called you up
I got a little drunk last night
Nothing made sense. Nothing was clear in his head except he needed to get to Liv. Sitting there the next morning, he knew that was probably the worst thing he could have done. Her son was there, asleep. He'd somewhat ghosted her for three months only to come back and screw up her case. But in his drug-addled brain that didn't matter. None of it did. The only thing that mattered was being near her.
And then he remembers something else. He told her the truth about the letter.
He's not sure if this could get any worse, or if it already has and he's just not aware of it yet.
I brought it all up, got it all out
What is it worth, to both of us now
It's off my chest, but never off my mind
"I need you…" he remembers saying "I need you to let me in."
He, of course, meant into the apartment, but he remembered he also meant she needed to let him back into her life. Into her thoughts. Into her space. She'd asked him months ago what he needed, and back then he'd responded in just about the worst way possible, but the drugs unlocked some sort of truth serum in him and he was finally ready to tell her what he needed. What he wanted.
"I felt I had to come here," he remembers saying, barely able to get the words out and she countered with a sarcastic "you felt?" in return.
"We never talked about what happened," he'd said and she thought he meant about the Navarro case, but that wasn't what he meant at all.
She'd tried to stop him, telling him it wasn't the right time, as he'd told her before on the night Manfredi Sinatra was murdered. But like everything else in his life he just barreled right on through.
"I didn't write the letter," he said, dropping the bombshell he'd been carrying around since he gave it to her back in the winter.
"Kathy, your wife, wrote me the letter that you told me that you wrote?" she'd asked, sitting down, finally paying him her full attention. And at the time, he thought that was good. At the time, he thought that meant she'd listen to him, so he pressed on.
So he told her how Kathy suggested the letter, how she said it would be easier to talk after so much time, and when he just couldn't figure out what to say, she dictated it for him.
"That what we were to each other was never real," she'd said. "And that we got in the way of each other being who and where we needed to be. And if there was a man in my life you hoped he's the kind, faithful, and devoted man that I deserved."
It was all Kathy. He'd felt good for a moment. Glad that she finally knew he hadn't said those things. Hadn't felt them. Hadn't wanted to say them to her.
"But in a parallel universe," she'd started and that part he could finish.
"It will always be you and I," he finished. "I wrote that. I slipped it in there before sealing the envelope."
And then he remembers falling. Trying to make his way to her so she knew, so she could understand that he had to keep things cordial with his wife. He didn't know she was going to get blown up in a car bomb mere days later. He had to give Olivia an out. If she had a wonderful life without him he wanted to give her a clean break and closure from the last 10 years.
But somehow his legs weren't working. He was falling into her again, and that was just about the last thing he remembered before he'd blacked out for good.
The two drinks in, hit that hurt
You feel bad and I feel worse
I swear it's the last time every time
Don't know why
He did remember her face as she recalled the words in the letter. The way her lip smirked up into the "you can't be serious" face she often reserved for perps and difficult colleagues. The way her eyes flashed and danced with pain and the words she'd thought he'd written and the ones of utter surprise at the ones he had.
He knew she felt bad, just by replaying her looks in his mind, but he also knew without a doubt in his mind that he felt worse. Because he promised himself after he gave her the letter in the first place that it was the end. They were living in the same city again, sure, working for the department. But she had a life. She had a son. She didn't need him to storm back in like the tornado he was and wreck everything.
But then she asked him to meet her for coffee and she brought up his PTSD. And he told her she meant the world to him and then to back off. And he swore that was the last time he'd involve her. Then she showed up to an intervention his children planned and he told her he loved her in front of them all. And he swore when he ran out and to Angela that night that things were over.
And situation after situation, promise after promise for the last however many months he just kept breaking his own vow. And he didn't know why.
Or maybe he did, and he just didn't want to admit it to himself.
Might've been a song on the radio
Might've been nothing, baby I don't know
Might've been a little too tired to fight
Might've been I got a little drunk last night
For a week or so after his drugged up escapades, all he could do was think about Liv. Everything reminded him of her, like the songs that would come through the radio at the diner. Nothing reminded him of her, too. When he would just lay in silence on the ratty mattress in that junk of a van trying to sleep at night, she was always on his mind.
And it all came to a head after he slammed some punk's face into a bowl of food at the diner. He'd stood up to the wrong man: Kosta's soon-to-be son-in-law. Richie tried to warn him but he hadn't listened and he'd been summoned for a meeting. Ayanna wanted to pull him, wanted him to get his head evaluated and not come out of there rolled up in a rug. But he convinced her to let him stay, and he convinced himself that he was at peace with the fact that he probably wasn't going to make it out of there alive.
I got a little too far gone
My heart was talking way too loud
I don't remember what I said
I just remember breaking down
He'd gone home to say his goodbyes. He'd left his badge and his watch, the one Kathy'd given him for their 10th anniversary that he wore every day, in a box in his bedroom for his kids to find later. He waited for them to come home for the night, but only Eli did, and he was grateful to be able to hug his son and tell him how much he loved him. He wanted to try to wait out Kathleen and his mother, but no doubt they got sidetracked by something at the store and wouldn't be back for hours.
He was spiraling. He was getting ready to walk into his own death sentence and he wondered if this is what the prisoners he put away for years felt on their walk to the killing chair to get their sodium thiopental drip. There was only one more loose end he needed to tie up.
So he called Liv.
He honestly didn't remember much of what he said. He thanked her, called her his rock, all of which was true. And then he was going to tell her that when he said he loved her he meant it, but the voicemail cut him off. He called again but ended up hanging up without leaving her anything.
Maybe, he thought, it was better not to leave her with that, and instead let her bury a man she hated. One who lied to her. One who wouldn't be worthy of her love now even if she was willing to give it.
I brought it all up, got it all out
What is it worth, to both of us now
It's off my chest, but never off my mind
Days passed and Elliot wasn't murdered by the Albanian mob. Well, not yet, at least. He'd made a close shave out of the initial meeting, which put him right in the middle of a robbery where he shot a guy, then uncovered a trafficking ring, and was mere minutes away from having to sleep with the ring's madame except he was called back to the gym for official business.
Truthfully, he didn't know how much more of this he could take. It'd been fun not to be himself, at first. Being Eddie "Ashes" Wagner was new and exciting. He was viscerally macho, a flirt and a fighter. He didn't have a dead wife, and a mother nuttier than a fruitcake. He didn't have five kids who, at minimum, were a bit afraid of him now. He didn't have an ex partner who he loved so much it hurt but couldn't even become her friend again because he kept showing up drugged and panicking and saying all the right things at all the wrong times.
So when there was a loud banging on his camper door one night, he kind of hoped it was one of the Albanians coming to just finish the job. One to the head, two to the chest for good measure when he opened the door and that would be it.
He was not expecting to see Olivia standing on the other side of the door, fuming, steam practically radiating off her skin.
The two drinks in, hit that hurt
You feel bad and I feel worse
I swear it's the last time every time
"What the hell," she said through grit teeth.
"What are you…" he started.
"Is the place bugged," she whispered.
"What? No," he said. "Sloot gave me a tool, I check the place every day."
"Perfect," she said, climbing the stairs and pushing him further back into the van.
They stood there for a moment, staring at each other. He was dressed in typical Eddie Ashes gear and she was wearing dark jeans, a cotton shirt, and he couldn't be certain, but he thought she was wearing their old grey hoodie from years ago.
"Why don't you ever finish a damn thought, Elliot?" she yelled, now knowing it was safe.
"What are you talking about?"
"You get your wife to write me a letter, and you close it with this cliffhanger line about parallel universes," she spat. "You tell me you love me and run out the door. You come to tell me the truth about the letter and you pass the hell out before we're done. You leave me a message that gets cut off. When are you ever going to finish. a. damn. thought?"
"What are you talking about a voicemail?" he asked.
"If you hang up without pressing anything, the voicemail still sends," she said, holding her phone up to his face acknowledging the missed call, and apparently voicemail, he left her the day he thought he was going to die.
"Oh," he said.
"Oh," Olivia said, her nostrils flaring, her whole face and body in attack mode the way he'd seen her countless times in the interrogation room. "That's all you have to say? It's been months of this bullshit Elliot. And I'm tired. I'm so tired of cutting you slack and telling myself it's the PTSD, or your grief, or your job. Because you just keep taking from me. My energy, my trust, and at this point maybe a little of my sanity. And I can't keep doing it over and over again when you never even finish a conversation. So it's either finish it now or this is the last time we even attempt to talk. Are we clear?"
Don't know why
Might've been a song on the radio
Might've been nothing, baby I don't know
Elliot had always been a cop that acted on instinct. He knew what perps were going to do, and which victims might be most likely to lie. He followed the evidence and sometimes he followed his gut because it was usually right. He pulled a trigger when it was warranted and he found ways to make reparations when he was wrong.
But standing here in a beat up van, undercover, with Liv just feet from him, seething, he couldn't, for the life of him make a decision.
He'd had the radio on earlier, some song was still playing in the background. He would tell himself later that's what made him answer the way he did. But maybe it was nothing at all, just his heart telling him to answer:
"Copy that, Captain."
Might've been a girl who looked like you
Might've been a fluke, might've been a full moon
Might've been a little too tired to fight
Might've been I got a little drunk last night
Neither of them said anything for another few minutes, holding eye contact until Liv finally broke it. She didn't say anything, just took a few small steps towards the door.
"When I was in Rome," Elliot started.
"I don't want to hear about Rome, Stabler," she yelled.
"You said we had to finish this conversation," he yelled back. "So do you want to finish it or not?"
That was enough to get her to come back up into the main part of the van. She sauntered to the back, plopped down on the edge of the mattress, and waited for him to continue.
"When I was in Rome, I thought about you every day," he said. "How much you'd love it there if you ever took enough time away from work to visit and enjoy it."
She scoffed, but he kept going.
"You know my and Kathy's history," he said. "We were happy in Rome, but it was still the same shit day after day. I wasn't the kind of husband she wanted me to be, always spending too much time at work, not opening up enough. And for me, well she wasn't you."
Olivia gasped at this.
"Then why bother to give me the letter after Kathy was already gone, if you felt that way?" she asked.
"Because you told me you didn't want to talk about Rome," he said. "And I saw you with Noah. And Fin said you moved on. And I just thought 'what the hell am I doing here messing up her life again?' I thought it would give you closure."
"Not even close," she muttered.
"I got that," he said, coming to sit next to her on the mattress.
"So you want me to finish this thought, this conversation? Then here's the cards on the table, right now," he said. "When I told you I loved you, I meant it. I've always loved you, Liv. I lived in that parallel universe everytime we went undercover. Every time we spent a night in the squad car, and almost every night in my dreams in Rome. And I would give anything to get back all the time we lost, but I can't. Bottom line, I can't live without you. I tried for ten years and look where we ended up? I can't stay away, even if you don't feel the same."
Olivia let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding in.
"I got over you because I had to," she said. "I was angry for years Elliot. At you, at myself. At the world. But when I knew you weren't coming back, I knew I couldn't live that way forever. But there are some things that you tell yourself you're over but the feelings never really go away."
"What are you saying, Liv?" he asked.
"I can't say it back to you yet," Olivia said. "You're, quite frankly, still not in a position to hear it. It's too soon after Kathy and you're still involved in this mess. But just know that I did, I do, and I probably always will. And when you've gotten yourself out of this Albanian mess, maybe we can start to be friends again. And then, when the time is right, maybe I'll be ready to say it back to you, and we can step into the parallel universe together."
He smiled and reached across the bed for her hand, and surprisingly she let him take it.
"Do you have a sitter for Noah?" he asked.
"He's at a sleepover," she answered. "Why?"
"Stay with me tonight?" he asked.
"El, you're UC, and we're not really there yet," she said.
"Not like that," he said. "I just want to be near you. Know this is real."
She held his and and looked at him a little deeper, and something in that gaze felt like the old days.
"Okay," she said. "I'll stay."
I got a little drunk last night
I got a little drunk last night
Thought I could keep it all inside
But I got a little drunk last night
They talked all night, about the past and the future, finally changing into PJs somewhere around 2 a.m. He lent her a pair of boxers and she ditched her long sleeve t-shirt for the tank top underneath. He noticed the scars littering her chest and upper arms but didn't dare ask about them that night, not when she was willing to let him hold her as they drifted off into their dreams together.
They were abruptly awakened by the sound of a slamming car door early the next morning. Elliot was the first to spring out of bed to see who it was.
"Shit," he mumbled as he saw Flutura sauntering towards the van.
"It's Albi's wife," He said, panicked.
"What's she want?" Olivia asked.
"She uh, breaks in all the new gang members," Elliot said, a blush creeping to his face. "She tried a couple days ago and we were, thankfully, interrupted. She can't find you here."
"I'll take care of it," Liv said, though he didn't really want to know how or where she expected to sneak out of the van where Flutura wouldn't see.
Quickly she pulled one of his dreadful Eddie button ups over her tank top and the boxers, slid her boots back on, and tied her hair up with a rubber band from the floor. She grabbed the hoodie and slung it over her shoulder and pulled Elliot to the front door of the van.
She made a big show of opening the door and pulling him outside with her, pretending to be surprised when she saw Flutura walking their way.
As if it was 14 or so years ago, she leaned against his chest and ran a hand up his cheek.
"Didn't know you were having a party, daddy," she cooed in that weird southern accent he'd heard her use once before.
"Well, you know how it is," he said, slipping back into his Eddie persona but having a hard time fighting the feelings Liv was making him feel, pressed so close this early in the morning.
"Who's this?" Flutura asked as she approached them.
"I could ask you the same thing, cupcake," Liv drawled. "Eddie and I are old friends. You here for business or for a little morning delight?"
"That doesn't concern you," Flutura said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Well, go easy on him," Olivia cooed. "He got quite the workout last night, more than once. Might not be as quick to snap back as you'd like. He acts young but certain things just don't work like they used to."
"I didn't hear you complaining last night, baby," Elliot said, putting his hands on her hips and leaning in to nuzzle her cheek with his nose.
"Well that's because you were ready for me, daddy," she said with a giggle. "Nice to meet you ma'am but if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from my man for anything other than strictly business."
Then she leaned up, and kissed Elliot full on the mouth, slipping him some tongue even though he was pretty sure Flutura couldn't see it.
"That oughta hold you till next time," Olivia said, sauntering away.
Elliot couldn't help but stare at her as she walked, shaking her hips like she knew they were watching, and being completely thankful she thought to park her car somewhere else so nobody could get her plate numbers.
"Is she the reason you never married, Eddie Wagner," Flutura asked when Olivia was out of sight. "Is she the person you didn't want to cause any pain to?"
Elliot couldn't help but chuckle.
"You caught me," he said. "I've known that woman over 20 years. Would have given her the world if she asked for it. But I just couldn't step away from the fire. Couldn't stop getting jammed up."
"The way she looks at you," Flutura said. "That's love. Maybe you can bring her onboard. She doesn't look Albanian, but we can always use more women around the sausage fest."
"You think?" he asked.
"I know," she said. "Plus, if she's around, it might remind me that I'm a lot of things, but I'm not one to stand between two people in love. Otherwise, call me when you get your second wind, Eddie Wagner."
As she strutted back to the car Elliot blew out a big breath. Another crisis averted thanks to Liv's quick thinking. He couldn't wait to crack this ring and get out of here, and stop living in this parallel universe and jump to the one he'd been waiting on for years.