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A little more than six months ago, Olivia had stood in this office staring at a Christmas gift in bright red paper and hated it. Hated that it was there, mocking her. Hated that she had assigned judgement to an inanimate object, but unable to stop herself. She hated that she hated it.
But then, Elliot had changed it. Changed her. Again. 25 years ago he had changed her, altered her forever in ways she could never explain, and somehow, standing in her office smugly explaining her own issues to her, he’d done it again. And then he’d insisted that she open it. She didn’t want to, it felt far too heavy. But she let him insist, and she had relented, handing him the gift in the garish paper that had mocked her for months. And she had stood there dumbstruck when he broke it and held it up for her to see. Baring his heart to her, again. Clearly this time, with no illusions to hide behind. He might as well have shouted it from a bullhorn on a rooftop for all the world to hear.
And then he had. He had handed her a compass with six tiny stones and two larger ones and said it would lead her to happiness. He had laid the small red E on her desk, called her partner and walked out of her office with a sly grin, leaving her teary eyed and alone. Again. Alone but forever changed by him.
Again.
Now, she stood in her office watching the lights on her small tree, a gift from Fin, blink and dance in time to some tune she couldn’t hear. And a smile crept onto her face. The compass sat heavy on her chest, a steadfast reminder that he was coming home. To her. That she was ready now, ready to be home.
They had been able to talk while he was under, not often enough, but brief check-ins and quick chats. Mostly about his mother and kids, who she’d been dutifully watching over in his absence. Not because he asked, or because she was bound by the duty of a partnership, but because she had wanted to. She didn’t know when he was coming home, only sometime before the New Year, and that felt heavy too. Heavy and right. She was ready. So ready.
She stared at her little tree and moved to adjust it, ensuring the little red E was nestled safely in the branches close to the top. She’d stuck it there on a whim, feeling a little foolish, but it made her smile to see it there. Like a part of him was there with her.
**
She hadn’t meant to doze off on the couch, but it happened more nights than she cared to admit. The soft knock at the door startled her awake. Her glasses were askew, her hair clip half falling out, her foot was asleep because she’d been sitting on it, something her doctor kept telling not to do. She righted herself as best she could and hobbled to the door yawning as she pulled it open.
And there he was. Shy sideways smile, ocean eyes, three days of stubble, a bruise under his eye just on the right side of healing, knuckles a little battered and leaning on her door jamb like it was his job to hold it upright. Suddenly, there was no air left in the room and the temperature had risen exponentially. Before she could remember to breathe, he raised the hand at his side, and flicked a sprig of mistletoe toward her, letting his grin widen and take on a wicked edge.
And then she was in his arms, lips pressed against his, eyes sinking closed relishing in this moment she had finally allowed herself. She poured it all into that kiss. The decades of wanting and waiting, of hurting and forgiveness, the anger and sadness, the decades of loving him from afar and the hope that she didn’t have to do that anymore.
When they came up for air, heated and flushed, she smiled up at him and cupped his cheek, letting her thumb run over the stubble there. “I wasn’t expecting you.” She leaned against the door jamb and tried to steady her breath.
“Should I go then, so whoever you were expecting can come by?” He asked with a smile.
“Don’t be an ass. You know what I meant. I didn’t know you were coming home.” She moved through her living room, and he trailed behind closing the door and doing up all the locks he knew made her feel safe.
“I wanted to surprise you. Did I interrupt?”
“Not at all. Noah is in bed already, and I was reading.” She pointed at the couch and he raised his eyebrows at the book laying open face down on the floor and the blanket rumpled there.
“So you were sleeping?” She rolled her eyes at him. Of course he would know. He could always clock her.
“Something to drink, Detective?”
“Have any decaf?”
“Getting soft in your old age I see. Let me brew a pot.” As she busied herself in the kitchen, somehow finding her sugar with ease this time he noticed, he meandered through her home. He smiled at the tree, taking note that it wasn’t a coordinated polished thing as he had expected, but instead was mismatched with handmade ornaments showing Noah at all stages and ages and random colored baubles. He marveled at that for a bit, Olivia was always the classiest of the bunch, and yet her tree was stereotypically a mom tree. He’d only ever wished for her to have this. To have a family, to have the craziness of a Christmas morning filled with loud bouncing children and chaos. She would thrive in it, despite it being completely different from what she had known.
He smiled at the notion and moved along taking in her decorations. Mostly understated things, and a string of Christmas cards along the living room wall. He only recognized a few of them. Amanda and Sonny, the McCanns, Ayanna and Jack. Several people he didn’t know, but seemed to have kids Noah’s age, and he assumed they were dance families or friends from school. Two stuck out.
One showed a man with two teenagers, all dark hair and brown eyes, a little gray hair peppered into the mans beard. Below the standard printed holiday greetings was a scrawl worse than his own “Friends for Life, Nick” that made his jaw clench. He’d never met him, didn’t know who he was, but “for life” set him on edge. The next one showed a man and woman a few years older, sitting on either side of a younger man and woman and two beaming toddlers surrounded by fake presents. All wearing coordinating outfits. The blue eyes and perfect teeth of the older man made him downright angry. He didn’t know him either. But for some reason, felt the need to throttle him. Again, this one was signed personally. But the script was much nicer. Classy. Like Liv. “Love, Bill” Oh now it was settled. He hated Bill. Whoever he was. And just who the hell was he exactly?
He hadn’t noticed her sidle up next to him, and her arm slipping into the crook of his elbow startled him a bit. He turned, and she read his face immediately. “My old Chief. His ex-wife and their son Matt with his wife and twins. They’re about three now I think.”
He tried to cover it, but failed. “How long ago…”
“About eight years. His other son, Mike, son was my sergeant for awhile. Died on his last call. Bill moved on two years later. In return for me being made Captain.” She trailed off at the last part, and he knew that had hurt her. To think she only made Captain because someone gave something up. She was the best for the job, but as always, was reluctant to take praise for anything she did.
“It’s nice you stay in touch.” He sipped his coffee, made exactly how he liked it. Of course it was.
“We do, he’s a good friend.” She made sure to meet his eyes then. And he knew. They had been more than friends. And he hated that the hated that, he had no right to. He had been married. And then gone. And yet he still felt like she was his. Had always been his. “It was a long time ago, El.” And to punctuate her statement, she went up on her toes, and brushed her lips against his softly. “A long time ago.”
He breathed deep and told himself to relax. This wasn’t the time to be territorial. She was his. He knew that. The kiss at the door had made it abundantly clear. As had the compass hanging around her neck, resting on her chest. He picked it up now, holding it gingerly between his fingers. “You know, I wasn’t sure you would wear this.”
“Of course I was going to wear it, Elliot.” She said that as if it had been obvious. It hadn’t been to him, and he wouldn’t have blamed her if she never did give him a chance. He certainly didn’t deserve one. His heart ached. For missing all the years in between. The years when Noah had come home to her, the years when she had been through things she would likely never fully tell him. “Of course I was.” She said again before leaning in and pressing her lips to his, a lingering kiss, one full of promise, but not leading to anything imminently. The kiss of things to come. Of a lifetime to come.
He took a deep breath, and turned again toward the living room, approaching the tree. “I always thought you’d have a perfectly coordinated tree. Matching ornaments and lights. Nothing out of place.”
“I did for awhile. That first year after Noah came home. But then, he went to preschool and it felt wrong to not hang them up. And now, he’s taken over. He likes it to be bright and colorful. Who am I to argue?” She picked up a box with a few random ornaments that didn’t have a home and held it out. “Noah ran out of steam, want to help me with these?”
They moved around the tree in tandem, and he was mesmerized by her. The lights shone off her eyes making them sparkle, her smile was more radiant than he recalled it had ever been. He imagined that she didn’t have many chances to smile like this every day, and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he was here to witness it in person. After the last had been hung, he found a small ball of tissue paper at the bottom and picked it up. It had weight to it. He started to open the tissue, but she snatched it out of his hand before he could see it.
“Don’t open that one. We don’t hang that one up.” She shoved it into the pocket of her cardigan.
No chance he was going to let that go. “Why not?” He had assumed it was old, maybe something of Serena’s?
“Just don’t.” She shrugged it off, but he could read her, as always, and knew there was more she wasn’t saying. “It’s old.”
“Liv? Tell me.”
“It’s stupid, El. And it doesn’t matter.” But he saw the tears in her eyes, and it did matter. Nothing mattered to him more right now.
He tugged her against him, resting his cheek against the crown of her head. “It’s not stupid. And it does matter. I want to see it. If you want to show me.”
She pulled back, just enough to meet his eyes, and wiped her cheeks. “Ok.” She whispered and pulled out the tissue. She unfolded it slowly, and stopped just before the item peeped out. “I bought this one for you. After Jenna. When I thought you were…before I knew you were never coming back.” And then she unwrapped it and placed it in his hand, taking a few steps back from him.
It felt small, not even filling his palm. He looked down to take in the small orange…he could hardly see without his glasses in the dim light provided by the tree. It was a…Oh God. It was a carrot. A small ceramic carrot with a loop of ribbon at the top and a goofy little grin and drawn on eyes. “Liv-“ His voice was thick, words caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. It had seemed so inconsequential at the time, her seeing his mothers photos of him, but of course it hadn’t been. Nothing between them could ever be inconsequential. She had saved his daughter, not out of duty or pity, out of love. And she had made a quip about him being a cute carrot. And then she had bought him a cheesy ornament to commemorate a huge moment. A moment when she’d set herself aside again and done something for him, for his child. Simply because she had loved them.
He had squandered that love. Had let her think it hadn’t mattered. That she hadn’t mattered. He’d hidden behind vows and a trumped up version of honor and duty. But he didn’t believe that mattered now. He had walked away to save himself the pain and embarrassment of being a failure at his marriage a second time, and had let her think she was the problem. That what they had wasn’t real. But it had been real. So very real that it caused him physical pain.
“Olivia, I am so-“
She cut him off with a raised hand. “Elliot, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want an apology. There is nothing to apologize for. You made the choice you felt you had to make.”
“I was holding you back, Liv. And it wasn’t fair. I couldn’t be what you needed, and it was keeping you from having…from having this.” He gestured towards Noah’s closed bedroom door/
“You didn’t hold me back, El. I made the choices I made. And I made them freely. I chose. And I don’t regret any of them. I don’t. You were right when you said the timing was wrong before. It was wrong then. And it was wrong all those years ago.”
“And now?” He looked down at the carrot, this silly little thing that now felt too large and too heavy.
“Now?” She took a deep breath and looked down for a second, before meeting his gaze. “Now, I’m choosing. Again. I’m choosing you…us. I’m choosing us.”
**
The sound of a sudden rain falling hard against the window startled her awake. Her hip ached, her neck was sore, once again her foot was asleep. But she was warm. Wrapped in his arms, covered with a fluffy blanket he’d pulled over them in the darkness. She knew she should wake him, move to the bed where they would be more comfortable. But that would mean more space between them. She’d had decades of space, and knew she didn’t want that anymore. She nuzzled closer against his chest, listening to his heart beating against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breath.
He was home.