Work Text:
Set in season 13
“In a box beneath my bed, is a letter that you never read”
There was no denying Olivia missed Elliot. Everyone knew it; Fin, Munch, Cragen – even the new detectives. She felt like nothing, she felt nothing; or she felt way too much. She went home at night and sat in the dark, reminiscing over old memories they shared.
She glanced at her bedside, staring at the red numbers glaring angrily from her alarm clock; 4:35. Another sleepless night.
She glanced at the photo frame next to her clock, one of her scarce tokens of him. Him. She could barely think of his name; never mind say it aloud. It was an old photo of them, mock-saluting next to Cragen. She smiled; she truly smiled. A sad, yearnful smile – but a smile, nonetheless. It was stupid. She had no right, no claim; he was someone else’s husband.
She had packed up his desk. She had updated her emergency contact list. She had grudgingly begun to fall into a rhythm with her new partner. She had received the stupid mini badge and the stupidly thoughtful note.
It was over, and she wanted to scream and cry.
Their partnership was over, the dynasty – gone. He was gone. Gone without a trace, washed away like the rain on a summer’s day. He wasn’t coming back.
She stands up, walking towards her closet. At the bottom, underneath the old clothes and heels that hadn’t seen the light of day since she gave up on dating; lay a box. A box of things she shouldn’t have kept. Memories of another woman’s husband.
Olivia had always been sentimental. Her apartment was stacked with old books from her childhood home, every thank you card she had ever been given – and so many photos. She took photos of everything. He was everywhere. Elliot was everywhere. Next to the flowers on her kitchen counter, on her rustic coffee table; and on her bedside table next to her jewellery stand.
The box was littered with polaroids, labelled from 1999 and 2000. Old receipts, silly notes and drawings everywhere. Every birthday and Christmas card he ever gave her sat neatly at the bottom. Keychains and magnets from every holiday he ever went on. He always thought of her; no matter where he was in the world. She always thought it was nice, that someone could care so much about someone they merely worked with – nothing more.
In recent years, she noticed and stopped denying that their relationship wasn’t just platonic. What they had was special, and it felt so weird to think of him as only an artifact from her past. An old, faded polaroid she couldn’t relive; she wasn’t his partner, and he wasn’t hers.
The clock struck 5:00. She considered going for a run, or maybe the gym – but no matter what she thought of, he always crept into her mind.
“Pathetic” she spat, “He’s not coming back”
She heard a knock at the door. Startled, she grabbed her gun and headed towards it.
She peeked through the peephole. No one was there. She glanced downwards, spotting a small envelope. It was too early for the mail to come.
Someone had given her a handwritten note.
Elliot.
She frantically unlocked the door, sweeping the letter up and into her apartment. She sat in her living room, placing the letter on her coffee table. She gently dropped her gun, abandoning it next to the stale cups of coffee and herbal tea that sat abandoned – left behind in a work infused rush. She stared at the handwriting on the exterior of the note, handwriting that was permanently etched into her memory; forever.
“Son of a bitch” she crocked.
She practically ripped the envelope open and began reading.
My dearest Olivia,
I’m sorry. I’m sorry it had to happen like this. I’m sorry I had to let you go. I’ll never be able to express my apology or my appreciation for you. You, who made me feel safe and true. You, who bought my wife and kids presents and made sure I always made it home. I’m leaving. I’m handing my badge in and leaving the country. I don’t know where I’ll go or what I’ll do, but I do know one thing – I’ll spend more time missing you than I have known you. I know you’ll have the most success possible now that I’m not holding you back. You deserve it. You deserve everything. You deserve so much more than me.
Thank you for being the best partner I could have ever asked for.
All my love,
El.
She reread it 4 times before she could compute a cognitive thought. Her head was pounding and her heart was racing; Elliot always had that effect on her.
She stared at the letter through glassy eyes – a million questions running through her head.
Why did he write the stupid letter? Why isn’t he picking up the phone? What did she do to him? Did he hand deliver the letter? Will she ever see him again?
Another glance at the clock, 5:26. She would have to go to work soon. She would have to go to work and act normal. She had to go to work – without him. He wasn’t coming back. Everyone knew it. She just wanted to hold onto what was left of him, just a little longer. Even if it was just through old photographs and a silly letter.
She picks up the letter, to place it into the box filled with faded remnants of him, of them, when a small note falls out. In scratchy, rushed writing:
“In a parallel universe, it will always be you and I”
Son of a bitch.