Chapter Text
“I did feel like Stabler was my home. But, he left me Amanda and I’m not over it.”
***
The drunken conversation shared between her and Amanda follows Olivia back to the city (back to the precinct, especially) and becomes some sort of unwanted mantra that plays repetitively in her head whenever she catches herself staring out into the bullpen that she and Elliot hadn’t even been partners in, hadn’t spent any long nights hunching over case files and sharing lukewarm takeout in, yet she can sense his— their presence, together, still.
And this isn’t a new thing, not really. The ghost of Elliot Stabler began haunting every corner of her life when his sudden departure had shattered her entire world ten long years ago, and she’d been left alone, with two bloodied hands and a broken heart. And, of course, it was inevitable that Serena’s constant pessimism claiming “everyone always leaves” began manifesting itself into her new reality, like a broken record. Every romantic relationship, every platonic friendship she’d sought in the absence of him and tried (and God, did she try) to hold close enough to her heart had crashed and turned to ashes: Haden, Cassidy, Tucker, Barba, Nick, and now Amanda. Each circumstance was different, sure, but they’d all gone with little fight, and the hurt never eased.
Fin was the only one who’d stayed, and thank God for him, because she needed that one constant in her life— that unwavering loyalty— more than either of them realized. But even now, with her Sergeant still holding steady at her side day in and day out, Olivia thinks it’s only a matter of time. Because Fin has Phoebe now, and despite his subtle (but more frequent, as of late) assurances that his badge won’t be handed in until hers is, she refuses to be the reason he postpones his happiness. Unlike Fin and Amanda, who have romantic partners and families worth dedicating their lives to— Olivia has Noah, who has and will always be enough. But with the recent discovery of her boy’s half-brother and his kind, doting, all-American family that lives in a pretty house with a pretty lawn she knows they’ll never have, the fear that she’s no longer enough weighs heavy in her heart most days; paralyzing her with so much dread that it now occupies the small space once reserved for Noah’s happiness, because Jesus, he might leave too. “He’s the only real family I have,” he’d told her that day in the pizza shop, too consumed by the massive greasy slice to notice her face crumpling in terror, and she still thinks about it every goddamn night.
Olivia has always been a fairly reasonable person, so she’s aware that it isn’t exactly reasonable, or fair, to blame Elliot’s absence for all of her life’s shortcomings. But, then again, things were okay for the twelve years that he’d been her partner (protecting her with his life; making her feel safe; being her family; being her home) and maybe it wasn’t right, maybe they were too close (they were, too close) and she knows that it wasn’t her right to hate him for leaving, because he was Kathy’s husband, not hers. But it hurt, and fuck, it still hurts, more than she’d care to admit, more than she’d ever admit to him, sober.
But then it’s a late Thursday night and Noah’s at his second sleepover of the month with his older brother, leaving Olivia with an empty apartment and too many glasses of wine, again. Unsurprisingly, she’s become too deep in her head, again, and considers calling Amanda— but just as quickly decides against the idea, because the last thing she wants to do is disrupt her friend’s newfound peaceful life, even if she feels excluded from it, even if it hurts. But the weight of this feeling, this heartache and dread is too fucking much to bare alone right now. And she’s drank too much, she knows this, but she reaches for her phone anyway and dials his number before she can rationalize against it.
“Liv?”
Elliot’s voice crackles through the speaker after the second ring, and she isn’t sure why she’s so surprised that he answered. Sure, it isn’t that late, but she’d been ignoring his texts for nearly a month and had hardly batted an eye at him when they’d occasionally run into each other in neutral spaces. With the obvious lack of her cooperation, his effort has become scarce, and though she doesn’t–shouldn’t blame him for that, she allows herself to feel angry anyway.
“You left me,” Olivia says with fiery accusation, the words spilling from her mouth before she can realize. “You fucking left me for ten years and you only apologized once, Elliot.”
She can hear the way his breathing quickens, becoming heavier against the speaker, consuming the empty space around her. He swallows, then, and she hears some shuffling in the background before he whispers a gentle, almost too delicate,
“Olivia.”
“Fuck you,” She spits.
Elliot breathes deeply and tries again. “Olivia, listen to me—“
“No, I don’t care. I don’t want to hear it, any of it. You left without a word. Without a goddamn phone call, Elliot. Do you realize what that did to me? What that’s done to me? How many years of therapy I’ve spent trying to heal– trying to be okay with the fact that you abandoned me without a fucking care in the world?” She doesn’t realize that she’s pacing around her living room until she runs into one of the side tables, sending her fresh-linen scented candle tumbling onto the floor. The glass shatters, predictably, and she slams an opened palm against her forehead in frustration. “Fuck.”
“Liv, where are you?” The sound of keys jingling merge with the concern lacing Elliot’s voice, and then she hears a lock clicking, a door opening and closing. “Where are you? Are you home? Olivia.”
His voice raises when she doesn’t immediately answer, and Olivia sighs, heavily, falling back onto her couch.
“Yes,” She whispers softly, and Elliot breathes a sigh of relief.
“I’m coming there, okay? Right now. I’m getting in the car now, Liv. Thirty minutes.” The engine starts, and she hears the shift in his voice when the call automatically connects to Bluetooth. “I’m— is that okay, Liv?” Elliot’s movements halt, and she swears he doesn’t breathe until she mutters a quiet ‘Yes.’
“Thirty minutes,” He repeats, and Olivia nods before remembering that he can’t see her.
“Okay.”
Thirty-two minutes later, an anxious Elliot Stabler is standing in her doorway, dressed casually in a leather jacket with a blue henley underneath, his hands tucked into the pockets of his faded jeans. And he’s staring at her with such bleeding concern that it pisses her off all over again (because who gave him the fucking right? she isn’t his to worry about) and she quickly turns on her heels, stalking back to the living room and leaving him in the entryway alone.
His footsteps are loud and heavy as they trail behind her, and she stops sulking long enough to bark out a frustrated “leave your shoes at the door” before crumpling onto her couch, drawing her knees up to her chest and watching him toe off his boots through narrowed, weary eyes. Seconds later, Elliot’s sock-cladded feet carry themselves into her space without a verbal invitation, and he settles himself onto the opposite end of the couch with a quiet sigh. He leans forward, balancing both forearms against his knees and seeking her guarded gaze over his broad shoulders.
“I’m sorry I left the way I did, Liv,” Elliot begins, his voice low, but just loud enough for her to hear it. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it first, and I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I’m sorry that it took me ten years to come back, to find enough courage to see you again.” He shakes his head a little, and swallows, gripping his knees until his knuckles whiten. She’s the first to break their contact, but he continues to watch her, refusing to look away. “I understand why you’ve kept me at an arm’s length since I’ve been back, Liv. Trust me, I get it, and I know how much I fucking deserve it. I know it doesn’t matter that leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done– it doesn’t matter how much it killed me, made me physically sick, made me want to give up life, at one point, because I did it anyway. And I never gave you an explanation for it.”
Olivia’s jaw trembles, and her nose begins to run, but she maintains her composure enough, keeping her gaze trained on the large portrait of her and Noah decorating the wall. “You did. You said that you couldn’t do the job again after Jenna, and you had to make that decision for your family—“
“I had to make the decision to leave you for the sake of keeping my family together, Olivia. Fuck,” Elliot’s body shifts until he’s facing her, fully, but she still refuses to look at him. She can’t, not now. “We were too close, especially towards the end. You know we were too close, Liv, and I didn’t realize how goddamn much until I shot Jenna because I’d rather her be lying dead on the floor than give her the chance to fire a bullet at you. ‘Cause if she would’ve shot you that day, Olivia, I couldn’t—“ He curses again, underneath his breath, and drops his head into his hands. “I kept thinkin’ about it, after. Kept thinkin’ about what I would’ve done if she’d shot you; how I would’ve fired my gun until the chamber was empty, and they would’ve locked me away for murder, ‘cause it would’ve been impossible to argue self-defense at that point. And it wasn’t just Jenna, Liv. Fuck, no. I would’ve done that to anyone who aimed a gun at you, who even thought about hurting you— no, I wouldn’t give anyone the chance. Would’ve risked my life for you, again and again, if that meant keeping you safe, keeping you there, with me. I couldn’t handle the thought of losing you like that. Couldn’t handle the thought of losing you at all, really. And that’s why I sat outside your building for hours after Jenna, Liv, I sat in my goddamn car trying to will myself to come up to your apartment ‘cause all I wanted in that moment was you and if you would’ve let me I wouldn’t have been able to—“
Elliot stops. His silence is deafening (it’s fucking killing her) and Olivia can’t ignore his weighted gaze any longer. She turns her head, just enough to catch the way his wet, blue eyes widen at the verbal admission— Kathy’s careful scripture of ‘what we were to each other was never real’ dying right before them, because she’d always hoped, had allowed herself to hope when she shouldn’t have, but he’d just admitted it.
It was real. It’d always been real.
Olivia’s mouth twists and she shakes her head, finally allowing her tears to stain sunken, paled cheeks. “You were my home,” She whispers, brokenly, and Elliot’s at her side before she can blink, covering her hands with his own.
“You were mine, too,” He says lowly, pressing his lips to her skin. “And that was the problem, Liv.”
Olivia swallows, nodding. “Because you were married,” She says softly, and Elliot’s jaw clenches, before smoothing.
“Because I was married,” He repeats with a short nod, his nose brushing against her knuckles. Olivia trembles beneath his touch, but doesn’t pull away. “But, Liv, I’m not married anymore. I’m not—“ He shakes his head, grasping her hands tighter. “Kathy isn’t here anymore, Olivia,” She flinches. “She’s gone. She’s been gone for two years. And as much I loved her, as much as I miss her, and as much guilt as I felt– still feel, sometimes, for being a shit husband to her, both before and after I left— she’s always known, Liv. Hell, I think she knew before I did.”
Olivia’s brows furrow, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, willing enough courage to ask, because speaking around it isn’t enough, she needs to hear him say it. “Knew what, Elliot?” She mutters, dropping her gaze, because it’s too much to look at him right now.
But Elliot’s there before she can process it. The hands once grasping her own have moved to cup her cheeks, gently, and he’s hovering above her on his own two feet, now, staring her directly in the eye. She feels it before the words leave his mouth, feels it in the way he’s looking at her, in the way he’s holding her, but that still doesn’t lessen the weight of it all when he tells her with such unwavering certainty that has her heart plummeting into her ass,
“She knew that I’ve been in love with you for the better part of twenty-four years, and I haven’t stopped loving you since, Olivia. And I spent years and years feeling so much guilt because of it, spent so much time trying to ignore it, of asking Kathy and God for forgiveness.” Elliot’s careful hands swipe away the fresh tears falling from her widened eyes, and then he’s leaning forward, dropping his forehead against hers. His nose nudges her own when he whispers, “But after twenty-four fucking years, I’ve finally processed it– I’ve finally accepted how deeply in love I am with you, Liv. And now– now there’s nothing stopping me from telling you, from showing you how goddamn much I love you. ‘Cause I do, Olivia, and I need you to understand that. I would never expect you to say it back, especially not right now, but I need you to believe me. Fuck, do you believe me, Liv?”
They’re so close, now. The quickness of her breaths are falling against his parted lips, and she can see every line, her wrinkle carved into the face she’d spent ten years trying to forget. A strained and breathless “‘Livia” falls against her cheekbone after several moments of silence, and then Elliot’s shifting his hand downwards until it’s cupping her jaw, and his thumb brushes against her lower lip, eliciting a breathless gasp.
“You believe me when I say how much I love you, Olivia?” He breathes against her ear, and she whimpers, nodding, grasping his wrists and turning his head towards her again. “I’m so fucking in love with you, Liv. ‘S the only thing I know how to do,” He tells her, his expression softening, and she melts.
“Show me,” Olivia whispers, brushing their noses together. She feels a strong arm grasping her waist, and then she’s standing on her feet, their bodies flushed together, Elliot’s grip tightening around her. She tangles their fingers together and sighs. “Kiss me, El.”
And he does.