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Cassidy was the first one to say it to her. Shortly before they broke up the first time. “It’ll never be me, will it.”
“Brian . . . I’m sorry,” she whispered it.
He shook his head. “I get it; you’re just in love with your partner."
“Stabler?!” she scoffed. “He’s married.” The very idea was ridiculous. That she could be in love with her partner.
Could she be in love with her partner?
“It’s okay,” Brian assured her. “You can’t help who you fall in love with.”
It was Kurt Moss who said it next. “I saw this coming.” He smiled wanly. “I mean when you’ve got a picture of your partner in your living room. It’ll never be me, will it?”
She shook her head. “I just need . . . to focus on myself for a while.” The words sounded hollow, even to her own ears, though there was an element of truth to them.
“It’s fine, Olivia. Pretty sure he feels the same way. He was ready to rip my throat out.”
“He’s married.” Which she knew was not the same as “he doesn’t,” and the look Kurt gave her indicated the same.
“Have a good life, Olivia.” He shook his head as she walked away, and she wished she could’ve offered him more. He deserved more, and it wasn’t her.
Ed also said it, though he didn’t accuse her of love for Elliot, instead it was for the job.
“It’ll never be me, will it?” He was sad, and resigned and he said good-bye. She’d tried so hard, she’d wanted so much with him. He’d given her Paris.
And yet, she needed the job. And, the job wasn’t just who she was, there was also the fundamental way that the job and her memory of Elliot were inextricably intertwined. Reminders of him existed in the creases and crevices—his desk, his locker, the photo she still kept ticked away under a stack of folders in her desk drawer. And then, of course, there was Fin—steady, regular, unflappable Fin—the only person, aside from Ed, that had Elliot in common with her.
The job had become her life as much as Elliot had. The job and Elliot and she. They were all woven together.
It was a few years later, after Elliot had unexpectedly and miraculously returned that Rafael said it albeit not in so many words, and at that point there was no denying it, despite the complexity of the relationship when Rafa accused her of being in love with Elliot, she wasn’t didn’t back down from it. Though she didn’t affirm it either.
That was something she and Elliot were going to have to work out.
And not through a fucking letter.
She’d thought they were going to kiss in that urgent care. Hell, for a split second, entertained a fantasy of grabbing him by his necktie and dragging him onto her desk, were there not a bullpen full of people who reported to her right outside her door.
So, instead she smiled and thanked him for the incredibly precious gift before having to watch him walk away, taking part of her heart with him.
“Is it really you?” She couldn’t stop staring. He was there, outsider her apartment, world weary and sporting a beard, but no less him. “God, I’ve missed you.”
His grin was nearly all-consuming. “I missed you, too, Liv. Maybe I could come in?”
The question brought her back to reality and she back. “Yes. Of course.”
He crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him. “Liv . . .” he breathed her name, soaking her in, “you really have no idea.”
“I think I might,” she answered, taking a step toward him. “It’s like I can finally breathe again.”
“I’ve got a bit of the opposite problem—“ He reached for her hand and began toying with her fingers. “You take my breath away.”
She stepped closer. “Let me do you one better.” And then her mouth was on his, immediately demanding, crushing with no foreplay. Twenty five years of pent up frustration and energy in a single kiss.
~End