Chapter Text
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Elliot ran his hand across the marble statue, testing its heft and weight, and glanced down at Olivia, who was squatting beside him in an attempt to free his feet from his boots before he could trample dirt and god only knew what else across her clean floors.
“Foo dog, right?”
She tilted her head back to look up at him momentarily, and he wondered if her patience with him was wearing thin. He’d been nervous the whole ride over, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut tonight. Whatever they gave him at the clinic was having the effect of truth serum. Every thought that entered his head flew right out of his mouth. So far, Olivia didn’t seem to be taking advantage of it, but he worried if the meds didn’t wear off soon, he would say something he would regret. Something that would send her running for the hills.
“Right. Lift your foot,” she urged him.
“Doesn't look much like a dog.”
“They're not actually dogs. They’re lions.”
“Doesn't look much like a lion, either.”
“They're symbolic.”
“Of what?” He stuck his finger in the smooth, cool opening of the statue’s mouth.
“They're…guardian lions.”
“What do they guard?”
Olivia went to work on his other boot. “A dwelling and its occupants.”
“What do they guard against?”
She didn't look up at him this time. “You know. Various…misfortunes.”
He felt the word settle heavily onto his shoulders. “Were they a gift?”
“No.”
“So you chose them for yourself.”
She braced her hands on her knees and rose to her full height, depositing his boots near the door adorned with enough locks to prevent even first responders from gaining entrance.
“You don't like them?”
“Just curious. Lizzie has a slightly smaller set in her apartment. Says they were a housewarming gift from a friend.”
“Oh?” The single syllable left her mouth at an unusually high octave for his partner, and that told him everything he needed to know.
Elliot’s thoughts bounced somewhat erratically between his youngest daughter and the woman before him, wondering what else they had in common aside from the fact that neither of them seemed inclined to ever confide in him about their past… misfortunes.
“Lizzie said this one is male,” he indicated the statue with its paw atop a ball. “He guards the structure itself from the malevolent forces of the outside world. And that one,” he nodded, “is female. She has a cub beneath her paw. Supposedly represents nurturing. Protection of the people inside the apartment.”
“Sounds like you know as much as I do about them.” She changed the subject abruptly. “You want to shower or eat first?”
“Kinda hungry,” he admitted. “If you don’t think I’m too dirty to sit down on one of your barstools.”
“Most of my furniture is still wipe clean. Learned that lesson early on with Noah.”
“I don’t know. He seems pretty fastidious for his age.”
“That’s because he cleaned up before you got here last time. I guarantee your military head would explode if you looked under his bed or opened his closet door.”
Elliot lowered himself slowly onto a barstool, watching as she moved about the kitchen with ease and efficiency, pulling a single plate from the cupboard and doling food onto it from the takeout containers she’d insisted they stop for.
“You’re not eating?”
“I can graze while I get things ready for tomorrow.” To his amusement, she poured a glass of milk and slid it across to him.
“Make a plate, Liv. Sit down and eat with me. I’ve missed eating with you these past thirteen years.”
“I think I missed my window for hunger tonight.”
Elliot sighed, but the heaping plate of comfort food she set before him easily drew his attention, making his mouth water.
“Damn,” he mumbled around a bite of meatloaf, peas, and mashed potatoes. “I’d forgotten how good that diner’s food was. Remember all the times we stopped there after a late night case?”
“I remember,” she assured him softly, bumping the refrigerator door closed with her hip.
Even though he was famished, he could barely tear his eyes away from her long enough to eat. It was still so new, seeing her at home like this, padding around in just her sock clad feet, jacket already discarded and the necklace he’d given her gleaming loudly from its resting place against her upper sternum. Elliot couldn't stop staring.
His mind conjured a less pleasant memory, one of her a year ago, backed into the corner near the very same fridge, her eyes haunted and her face streaked with tears of fear, confusion, and utter exhaustion.
“I wish we had gotten here sooner,” he confessed into the relative silence.
“Why? Were you hoping to see Noah before he went to bed?”
“No. Well, I mean, yeah. I would've liked to see him, but I meant it in a broader sense. Just feels like we’ve wasted so much time. And tonight made me think again about how we never know how much time we really have, you know?”
She stopped with the lid to a small rectangular container in her hands and looked at him. “You must miss Kathy more than usual on nights like tonight.”
“Don’t do that,” he admonished gruffly.
“What?”
“Use my late wife to create distance between us. To put the barrier back in place.”
“That wasn’t my intention. I just meant that…I know it must be hard, especially on a night like this, to go home to an empty apartment. I’m not used to it anymore, either. Being home alone after a bad day when Noah’s out of town.”
“I’ll always miss Kathy, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you the years I was gone.”
“Elliot, let’s not do this.”
“Do what? I’m not allowed to say I missed you during those years?”
“Leaving me was a choice. Losing Kathy wasn’t.”
His brain still wasn’t firing on all cylinders, so he didn’t know what to say to that.
Olivia finished putting the rest of the food they’d ordered away and stacked the matching glassware on the counter, ready to go into the neatly organized fridge, and Elliot thought about how different her life was now than it had been when they were partners. How different she was from the woman who used to have nothing but one lone carton of three day old Chinese food and a couple of bottles of outdated condiments in her fridge.
Now it was filled with colorful fruits and vegetables, all of it likely organic, three types of milk, and an entire drawer dedicated to expensive cheeses that even a Parisian would find acceptable.
Sometimes he still felt like he didn't know her. Not really. Not anymore. But he knew enough to know he wanted to. He wanted her to feel comfortable with him again. He was tired of feeling like they were always walking on eggshells, tiptoeing around the hard stuff, both ready to withdraw at the slightest hint of turmoil or the potential for a difficult conversation.
But he could see it on her face now. She was working up to something, and whatever it was, it didn't bode well for him.
Her shoulders were tense, inching up towards her ears, and she had moved on from straightening the already spotless kitchen to other mindless tasks, signing the forms Noah had left out for her and tucking them back into his school binder.
And Elliot could feel it there between them again. The specter of his abandonment, of how he’d let her down. How he still didn't know what all she'd been through and probably never really would. He could tell that no matter how many times he told her otherwise, Olivia had a hierarchy in her mind of people and things that were important to him – his dead wife, his children, his mother, his siblings, his new team, his career. He knew she placed herself last on that list, if she believed she was even on it at all.
And he wasn't doing much of anything to convince her otherwise, but she was wrong. There were so many things he wanted to tell her. Like how he knew he would never be good enough for her. How he felt like he’d been living someone else’s life the whole time he’d been in Rome. How he’d hated it there, had felt like it was always hard to breathe and the sounds were all wrong but that Kathy had loved it, so Elliot had just gone along with it. How he had lived there for his wife for almost a decade and that he would now gladly live anywhere Olivia wanted him to for the next thirty if it meant she would just trust him again. If she would give him a chance, a real chance, to be part of her life.
But his head still felt like it was floating, and his body was sore and aching. He could barely form a coherent thought, much less a sentence. He didn't like being separated from her even by the narrow expanse of the bar and countertop, so he pulled himself up from the barstool and made his way clumsily to the sink, washing his plate, fork, and glass.
“Is that why you think I wanted to be here tonight? Because my place was empty and lonely?”
“Isn’t it?”
“I have kids I could have gone to if it was just about not being alone. I wanted to be here , Liv.”
“You keep saying that you want… this …but I feel like you’re still conflicted about the recent changes in our relationship.”
“You’re wrong,” he whispered. “I’m not conflicted.”
“If she hadn’t died, you wouldn’t be here right now. You’d be back in Rome, and the past few years would never have happened. The past few months would never have happened.”
“But they did happen. I wanted them to happen.”
“Then why didn’t you return my call? Why did I have to hear about your suspension from someone else?”
“Who’d you hear it from?”
“Does it matter? You stood right there last weekend and acted like it was no big deal. Like it was just a formality. You didn’t tell me the boy got injured in the takedown.”
Heat flooded Elliot’s face. He didn’t give a damn what IAB thought of him, but what Olivia thought meant everything. He’d fled the country, blown up his whole life, after he killed Jenna rather than having to face Olivia’s disappointment. He’d never forget her horrified, “No!”, the stunned look on his partner’s face after he pulled that trigger. It had haunted him for a decade. If he was being honest, it still haunted him.
And Cragen’s words when Elliot skulked in to submit his retirement paperwork while Olivia was in the field? Those haunted him most of all.
“Let her go, Elliot. If you’re moving on with your life, let her go so she can move on with hers.”
But that was the thing. Elliot never really had moved on with his life. He’d moved away, but he had never moved on. That’s why Kathy had never believed he and Olivia weren’t still in touch. Olivia Benson wasn’t someone he could just…get over. She was part of him. It felt like her blood ran through his veins. He didn’t know who he was without her. Recently, he had just been finding her again. Finding himself again. He was terrified of doing anything to make her regret letting him back into her life. Only now? Now he was making her question it, her decision to try this. He was letting her down again, and he thought it would have been better to have died on that metal bar tonight than have her stand there looking at him the way she was now.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and she had to be pretty sick of hearing that by now, too. It seemed like that was all he ever said these days. “I wanted to sort it out before we talked because I swear it wasn’t like Jenna. I didn’t even draw my weapon. He just hit his head when we went down, but it was justified. He had a gun drawn. He would have shot me. He did shoot Bell. But I checked on him. The kid’s going to be fine.”
“Elliot –”
“I’ve been thinking that maybe it was a mistake to come back. Maybe I should have retired again. Hell, I don’t know. I’m trying to figure it out. But I know I don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t ever want your reputation to take a hit because of me. For people to ever question your judgment again because of an association with me.”
“Elliot!”
Her voice rose just enough to get his attention but hopefully not enough to wake the boy who was sleeping less than thirty feet away. The last thing he needed was Noah Benson seeing him like this, bloody tape around his wrists and his ego battered into complete submission. He didn’t even like Olivia seeing him like this.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, rubbing his exhausted eyes with the heels of his palms.
Olivia stepped towards him, placing her hand between his shoulder blades and propelling him out of the kitchen towards her bathroom. “I’m not…disappointed. I’m worried about you. The last time something like this happened, I never heard from you again.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I just…I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s not worth it. Constantly having to live down my father’s reputation. Tucker had it in for me all those years ago. He always believed I was a dirty cop. This new guy at IAB seems to think the same thing.”
“You are nothing like your father.”
“I already know that, actually. But it’s good to hear that you don’t believe what they’re saying.”
“I’ve always believed the best about you. Surely you know that.”
He did know that. Back then, she had believed in him – as a cop, as a father, as a husband – even when he hadn’t believed in himself.
She closed the bathroom door behind them. Then she looked him squarely in the eye. “You’ve been through a lot these past few weeks. These past few years.”
“I’m fine.” His response was automatic.
She ignored him, her deft fingers reaching for the buttons on his shirt and making quick work of them before sliding it back and off his shoulders. “If you’re struggling right now…if you need time to…figure things out, I want you to take it. I’m not going anywhere, either.”
“There’s nothing to figure out. I already told you I’m not conflicted. I want to be here like this. With you.”
“You’re sure?”
His heart twisted at the hint of insecurity in her eyes. “I’m very sure, Liv. I just want to be good enough for you. I don’t want to let you or Noah down.”
She unbuckled his belt and pulled it free of the loops, coiling it up and setting it on the bathroom counter. Elliot sucked in a breath when she unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down over his hips.
“You don’t have to do this,” he argued. “I can get it.”
She nodded, leaving him to it while she pulled a couple of towels out of a cabinet and went to work on his shirt with a giant stain stick. He immediately missed her touch, but he kept his mouth shut as he stripped down to his underwear and fumbled around, trying to adjust the water in her shower.
Suddenly feeling modest, he reached for a towel, holding it in front of him while he kicked out of his underwear. Rubbing the back of his neck, he told her, “I’ll be quick.”
“Take your time,” she told him softly, gathering up his pants, socks, and boxer briefs and disappearing with them and his shirt towards what he assumed was the washing machine.
He had just stepped into the shower when he saw her moving around the bathroom again. Rubbing at the frosted glass, trying to get a clearer view, he realized she was dressed only in a silky robe, that she was piling her hair on top of her head, waiting for her turn in the shower. His body was sore and tired, and he felt every one of his near fifty-eight years, but all he could think about was touching her. He craved the elusive, euphoric feeling that only she had ever evoked. The assault on his senses when her arms and scent wrapped around him, when her gaze collided with his, and when his name tore from her throat in a breathy moan. He needed to be inside her, desperate for the tight clutch of her around him as he simultaneously chased both thrill and safety, adventure and homecoming.
She was both things, everything, all at once, and he thought maybe he would die if he ruined it now that he knew how healing her touch could be.
“Liv,” he called out softly.
“Yeah?”
He hesitated. “Could you come in here with me?”
There was a brief moment of silence where he thought he’d gone too far, asked too much. It occurred to him that maybe she wasn't quite ready for this.
He waited, barely breathing, and then the overhead light flicked off, plunging the room into darkness. Elliot blinked, his vision slow to adjust, but he finally noticed the candles flickering on the counter.
The shower door opened, and she stepped in holding yet another candle, setting it on a little ledge out of reach of the spray. Bathed in the warm light, she looked like a goddess, her body glistening as he made room for her to join him beneath the warmth of the water. She had something in her hand, a tablet of some sort, and she dropped it near their feet.
The heady scent of the shower steamer – at once woodsy and floral, bold but gentle, something uniquely Liv – plowed into him, and Elliot thought maybe he was having an out of body experience. That he was drowning in her very essence.
He reached for her boldly, like he had every right to do so, settling his hands on her hips, eyes drawn to the swell of her breasts, the narrowing at her waist, and down to the flare of her hips.
“You're so beautiful, Liv.”
Inexplicably, tears filled his eyes, and he fought the urge to drop to his knees and cry.
Her brow furrowed, worry lines marring her perfect face. “El, what's wrong?”
“Nothing,” he choked out. “It's just…a perfect moment, you know? I want to make sure I remember it.”
Her expression smoothed out, morphed into something soft, something almost dreamy. Her hands rose between them, hovering near his chest.
Needing them on him, he pulled her closer. “Touch me,” he whispered. “Please touch me.”
“I don’t know where you’re bruised.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.”
“It doesn’t because that’s where I need it most.” His tongue was obviously still loose because there was no way he would have admitted that otherwise. He had no right to ask her for comfort, no matter how desperate for it he was.
But she always gave herself willingly to those in need, so her hands settled against his chest, fingers fanning out as if searching for something.
“Where’s your necklace?” she asked.
“I...I burned it.”
Olivia’s eyes shot to his, concern evident. “Why?”
He shook his head, water washing down his face. “I don’t know. An offering, maybe. A penance. For Rita.”
Olivia pulled his head down closer to hers and pressed their foreheads together. “I’m so sorry, Elliot.”
He took a moment just to breathe with her, letting the rise and fall of their chests sync up. “You’ve already heard how boring my day was. Tell me about yours.”
“Do you remember the little girl from the 911 call? The Maria Recinos case?”
“Of course. You were all over the news after that.”
“I saw her tonight. She just graduated from the academy. She became a cop.”
“I’m sure that was your influence. You saved her life.”
Olivia’s voice cracked a little. “She’s happy, you know? She beat the odds and made a good life for herself. She has a home and a…partner. A man who loves her and is there for her. I've been thinking about her a lot lately. About a lot of victims, actually. About how we never know what becomes of them after we close their cases, even the successes. About whether what we do, what I do, ever actually makes a difference.”
Elliot ran his hands up along her side. “Of course it matters. No one can save all of them, not even you, but you do make a difference, Liv. Surely you know that.”
“I think I just needed to know for once, you know? I couldn’t let it go. I had to see for myself. I needed the follow through. The closure.”
“And you got it?”
“I did.”
He settled his cheek against hers. “Good. You needed the wins lately. With Maddie and now with Maria.”
“I feel guilty that you haven't been as fortunate. That you're struggling.”
“You shouldn't. If only one of us can win, I’d rather it be you. I can take the hits if it means you don't have to.”
She pressed kisses along his jaw before drawing back a little, reaching towards a bottle of body wash and pumping some into her hand before gesturing towards him.
“Do you mind if I…?”
Elliot swallowed hard. “You don't have to.”
“I want to,” she assured him softly. “If you don't mind smelling like me in the morning. The fragrance is supposedly unisex.”
He couldn't even form a response. His eyes drifted closed as her hands worked their magic, starting with his neck and working their way down his chest, lingering at his navel before skipping down just below the juncture of his thighs. He was somewhat disappointed but supposed a man couldn't have everything.
When she reached his shins, she straightened up, studiously ignoring his raging erection, and issued an order.
“Turn around.”
Elliot complied, a little weak at the knees but determined to soak up every bit of touch she was willing to offer. Bracing his hands against the wall, he waited.
She took her time, massaging his scalp, neck, and upper shoulders. She was bolder with him facing away from her, soapy hands lingering longer, working their way along his armpits, nails scraping gently down his sides, causing Elliot to exhale a long, drawn out hiss. One hand gripped his hip, rubbing gently at the taser marks there while the other worked its way over his ass, fingers slipping between his cheeks and down until she was cupping his balls, massaging them lightly. A garbled sound issued forth involuntarily.
“Tell me how you like to be touched,” she urged him.
“Any way you want, Liv.”
She pressed her lips to his shoulder, biting down a little, and Elliot had to resist the urge to touch himself. To relieve the pressure. But she did it for him, moving her hand around to wash anything she'd missed the first time before wrapping her hand along his rigid length and stroking gently back and forth a few times.
Elliot’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he was itching to get his hands on her. He didn't want to come like this with his back to her, didn’t want to finish without touching her.
“Liv, please. Let me return the favor.”
“Shut up, Elliot, and stand still.”
He whimpered, but he did as instructed, even when she withdrew her hands to apply what he assumed was more body wash. But when she reached for him again, it wasn't soap. It was something silky, something that made it feel like he was sliding through her own natural lubrication, and he couldn't resist a few tentative thrusts into the velvety tightness of her fist.
“What is that?” he groaned.
“Shower lube.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered. “Baby, please. I want to touch you. I want to be inside you. This feels so good. So good, Liv. But I want more. I want to wash you. Please let me.”
“Fine. But you have to hurry. The shower is low flow, but the hot water isn't going to last forever.”
“I can be quick. I can be so quick.”
He reversed their positions and returned the favor, soapy hands lingering at her breasts, tweaking her nipples until she cried out.
“You like that?”
“You know I do.”
He slipped his hand lower, between her legs, flicking her clit with his thumb. “And that?”
She rutted against his hand, her perfect ass brushing his dick over and over, driving him to distraction.
“Stop that,” he warned.
“Use the lube, El. We don't have time for this.”
“Why are you so impatient?”
“Because I know what cold water can do to a man’s libido. We need to finish this. And besides, we had plenty of foreplay already tonight. You had your hand between my legs the whole drive home.”
“I did not. I had my hand on your thigh.”
She reached for a discreet bottle and squirted it onto his first two fingers before urging them into her.
“Finally,” she breathed. She kept one hand on his wrist, guiding him, showing him, her breath and hips gaining momentum.
Every so often his erection, still oiled up from this magical, waterproof lube, slipped between her legs, seeking entrance, dragging along the soft fullness of her ass, and Elliot thought he may come just from that little bit of friction.
“Now,” she ordered him. “I need you inside me right now.”
Elliot ground his teeth together, nipping at the side of her neck. “You want it like this, or do you want to turn around?”
She bucked even harder against his hand, and he could feel it. The beginning of her orgasm. “Like this. From behind. Just like this.”
She pushed his hand away and reached between them, guiding him inside, urging him on.
“Come on, El. Hurry.”
He grasped her hips, trying to maintain some semblance of control. But she pushed back against him, taking him in as far as she could.
The closest thing he thought he'd ever hear to Olivia Benson begging almost buckled his knees.
“Harder, El, please. I need you to really fuck me. You're alive, and I'm alive, and I need it, okay?”
His balls drew up tightly, and he rocked harder, more frantically. He'd never felt her like this, never seen her like this, and it did something to him, especially when he realized she was working her clit with her own right hand.
Her hair had long since come undone and was wet around her shoulders. Elliot wrapped his hand in it and urged her face up, trying to get her to turn just enough to meet his lips.
“Kiss me, Liv.”
She did, and it was all teeth and tongues, fire and fury.
“So close. I'm so close. Tell me you're close.”
“I'm right there with you,” he promised.
She bucked back into him one last time, and he wanted to feel it all, so he covered her hand with his, enjoying her climax, seeking the spot where their bodies were joined together.
“Gonna come,” he groaned, shoving forward hard, too hard maybe, trying to burrow further inside her than he already was. She absorbed his weight easily, pressed her legs together more tightly, and bore back against him.
Welcome relief flooded his body as he jerked inside her, and something primal coursed through him, knowing part of him was filling her just as she shattered around him for a second time.
He buried his nose close to her ear. “I love you. I think maybe I've always loved you.”
She stilled, breathing hard as he steadied her hips and pulled out of her slowly, eliciting a small gasp before she turned swiftly to face him and wrapped one arm around his neck.
“You have to return my calls,” she whispered. “I don’t need a lot from you, but I need that.”
“It won’t happen again,” he promised, closing his arms around her as her lips met his properly, sweetly, this time.
Olivia finally broke away and turned off the water. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here and tape those wrists back up.”
Elliot accepted the towel she offered, thinking how much lighter he felt, like her touch had cleansed him, freed him from the shackles of even the most egregious of his sins. The ones he’d committed not only against her but also the only other woman he'd ever loved. It was funny how Olivia could do that, even though it wasn't her place, even though she was still wary, even though she had no reason to forgive him, even though he had turned his back on her for a decade.
He hoped his touch provided her even a small measure of the comfort hers did him.
“Do you believe in God?” he asked, watching as she applied an ointment to his wrists and wrapped them neatly again.
Olivia glanced at him, dressed in another pair of her silky pajamas, hair combed out and starting to curl around her face, which looked clean and flushed and just as beautiful without makeup as it did with.
“Probably not in the same way you do.”
“But you believe in…something?”
“I do,” she said quietly.
“The whole Buddhism thing? How does that fit in?”
“There's a quote. ‘In the end, only three things matter. How much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.’ When I felt so alone and angry, when I was reeling in the aftermath of…what felt like insurmountable hardships, that resonated with me.”
A sob welled up inside him, almost knocking him down. “Liv, that's beautiful. But some things, good things, are meant for you. It doesn't always have to be you who lets go or makes sacrifices.”
“Life deals us all blows, Elliot. Some we deserve. Some we don't. You know that as well as I do. But maybe the only way to really love someone is to let them go. If they find their way back, then…maybe they really are meant for you.”
A couple of tears made their way down his cheeks. “Who said that?”
She cradled his fist between her own and brought it to her lips, pressing a kiss to the side just above his wounded wrist.
“I did. Just now.”
And when they settled in bed, he rolled towards her, draping his body over hers and pressing his ear to her chest so that he could hear the steady beating of her heart. Just before he drifted off, Elliot realized he wasn’t as angry at God as he had been. He wasn’t quite so disillusioned. Maybe it was time he learned how to let go – of the past, of what he thought should have been, of all his prior transgressions, of the sins of his father lest they be passed down to his own children.
There were so many things over which he had no control, and Elliot had spent most of his life railing against that futility, the injustices he couldn’t right, the perfection he couldn’t achieve, no matter how dedicated a cop or loyal a husband. But he could take a page from Olivia’s book. He could live gently and love more.
Maybe he didn’t need absolution after all. Maybe he had already been forgiven. Maybe, finally, happiness was right there within his grasp. Maybe he just needed to be patient and give it the time and space to spread out. To take root and establish a foundation.
“El.” Her voice was raspy, tired but content.
“Yeah?”
“I forgot to put your clothes in the dryer.”
“I’m too tired to move again. If we don’t get up early enough, can’t I just hide out in here until Noah leaves for school?”
“You could. Or you could have breakfast with us while they’re drying in the morning. I didn’t get to see him tonight, so I want to get him up early and spend a little time with him.”
Warmth spread through Elliot’s chest, and it felt a little like hope. A little like happiness. “I don’t have anywhere to be. I could cook if you have stuff for omelets.”
“I was hoping you’d offer because my hair is going to take an hour to tame in the morning.”
“I kind of like it like that – sexy, a little wild.”
“Do you know what Fin would say if I showed up with my hair like this tomorrow?”
Elliot grinned. “That it was about damn time you had some decent shower sex?”
Olivia raked her nails along his back, digging into the spot she now knew made him squirm. “I’d never hear the end of it. I would have to stop wearing the compass just to throw him off our trail.”
“Well, we definitely can’t have that. I’ll make breakfast. You do whatever it is you need to do to get yourself in captain mode.”
“Thank you. Hey, in the car tonight, you said something.”
“I said a lot of things tonight I probably shouldn’t have. It’s a good thing I don’t regularly take medication for anxiety.”
“You said you used to talk about me. That there was an older woman who ran a little trattoria.”
“Lorita, yeah. She studied in the States and spoke almost perfect English. Loved New York City. Kathy hated the food there. She didn’t like that it was somewhat Americanized. So I’d stop in for lunch or an early dinner when I had time. Sit at the counter and visit with Lori.”
“So it was safe, then. For you to talk about me there.”
Elliot took a deep breath through his nose. “I mean…”
“I’m not upset. I was just thinking that we should go some time. I’d like to meet her. To see what your life was like during those years. You haven’t been back, have you? Since Kathy died?”
“No. I haven’t.”
“Would you like to go some time? With me? Or would that be too weird?”
He thought about it, about all the things he hadn’t hated about Rome. About how the things Kathy had loved were different from the things Elliot had appreciated, the things that reminded him of Olivia. He thought about how he’d left three years ago knowing he wouldn’t come back the same man, not if he actually made it to that ceremony. Not once he saw Olivia again.
He thought about how Eli had grown up there, had flourished. How happy the other kids had been there when they visited. How maybe they should all go back at some point to say a proper goodbye to Kathy and the place she had really, finally, spread her wings. And if it were any other woman with whom he was now sharing a bed three years after his wife’s violent death, it would be weird to think of making that pilgrimage with her.
But it wasn’t weird because it was Olivia. In her own way, she had loved Kathy, too. Had befriended her, sided with her in their marital spats, had soothed her fears and insecurities, more often than Elliot liked to admit. But more than that, he knew Olivia wanted him to heal. She wanted him to know there was room between them for Kathy’s memory. That the time had come to let go of the pain and loss and focus instead on the good that came from their marriage. Focus on the things they had done right. That he didn't have to forsake the past to have a future with her. That the two could coexist.
He thought Olivia really was the most remarkable woman he'd ever known, even more so now than she had been back when he knew her before. And it seemed like she was choosing to let him be part of her life again, to be part of whatever happiness she could carve out in this unstable, unpredictable world. That she was willing to take that chance on him and with him. To let him know her son and hold her on the rare occasions she allowed herself to break down and cry.
He knew she wasn't suggesting a trip to Rome for her own sake. She was doing it for him…because it was something he needed but would never do on his own.
Clearing his throat because it was suddenly clogged with emotion, Elliot propped up on his elbow and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, cupping her jaw and leaning in for a long, lingering kiss.
“I think…that is a great idea, Liv.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She nudged her foot between his legs. “And if it’s something you wanted privacy for, something you did feel weird about me being there for, you could go with just the kids. Or even just you and Eli.”
There it was, the doubt creeping in, the desire to help him heal coupled with the uncertainty about her place in his life. Her future in his kids’ life.
“No. I think you had it right the first time. If I go, I would want you there.”
“But the kids –”
“It’s not about the kids. Not really. They’re welcome to come, if that’s what you want –”
“I just think they should at least have the option to join you. That’s all. She was their mom, and they all talk about how much she loved it there.”
“She did love it there,” he admitted.
“And no matter what else happened, regardless of the fact that it wasn’t perfect, you gave her that, Elliot. You can’t change what happened to her, the same way you can’t change what kind of cop your dad was or the assumptions other people make about you because of those things. But you can choose to focus on the good. On the things you can control. The things you did right.”
He shifted back towards her, letting his hand slide beneath her pajama top. “I can tell you one thing I’ll never question again. One thing I’ll always know I did right.”
“What’s that?” she asked softly.
“Falling for you.”
“Oh, god. You’re still high, aren’t you?”
“I’m serious, Liv. I fought it for so long, what I felt for you. Back then and even after I came back. I thought it was something to compartmentalize, to shut down. That because I was married when we met, because it made her insecure, because she died, I had to fight it. But I know now that’s not true. The thing I did wrong was not confiding in her. She was my wife, and I shouldn’t have tried to gaslight her. I should have owned up to it.”
“To what?”
“The fact that I did love you. That you were more than a partner. That it was an emotional affair.”
“But in the end, you rectified it. I didn’t like how you did it, but you were right to break things off with me. I can see things more clearly now.”
“No. Don’t do that. Don’t give me a pass. I messed up. With her. With you. But I don’t want to mess this up. I want to do it better this time. Kathy wasn’t wrong. From the moment I met you, there were three people in our marriage. That wasn’t fair to her, and maybe I should have left SVU sooner if I really wanted to keep my marriage together, but it was complicated. Getting married so young and having that many kids was never really my choice. It wasn’t hers, either. But we both chose to keep going. To stay together. What we never did was this.”
“What?”
“Talk openly or honestly. We never had this type of relationship.”
Olivia brushed her knuckles along his cheek. “This is new for me, too. Letting someone, even you, in. Talking about all of these things that hurt, things that make me uncomfortable.”
This time, it was his insecurity that swelled between them, and his voice dropped to barely a whisper. “But you think it’s worth it, right? That I’m worth it? You don’t just feel sorry for me because my wife died and I’m a fuck up as a cop?”
She nudged him onto his back and swung her leg over him, seating herself astride him and running her fingertips along each of his bruises and cuts, the burns from the taser. “I feel a lot of things for you, Elliot, but pity has never been one of them. You drive me a little crazy with your rampant Catholic guilt and the way you sometimes seem hell bent on self fulfilling some prophecy of doom. The way you’re a beacon for trouble and chaos. The way you think everything’s your fault, even when it isn’t. The way you let people believe you’re an asshole when it’s actually the furthest thing from the truth. The way you won’t back down, can’t sit still and trust the process, even when you should.”
“Are you trying to reassure me or talk yourself out of this?”
She leaned down and kissed him right below his ear, making him squirm again. “I’m trying to say that I don’t regret a single moment of it. That as scary as this is for me, I like my life better with you in it than without you. Because no matter what happened between us in the past, you do make me feel…safe in a way that no one else ever has.”
Her words were a balm to his weary soul, a desperately needed massage to his wounded pride and self-confidence. “So you do think I’m worth it?”
One perfectly sculpted eyebrow lifted. “I do, actually, most of the time. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re usually really good with your mouth.”
“I knew I should have gone down on you in the shower.”
She threw her head back and laughed throatily, and he thought maybe he should just go ahead and marry her, put them both out of their misery.
“Well, there’s always next time, right?”
He loved that she was comfortable enough, confident enough, now to assume there would be a next time. He loved the idea of not having to sneak out of her bed at the crack of dawn, of making breakfast for her and her son and sitting down at the table with them to eat it.
Olivia yawned, settling back down along his mostly uninjured side and snuggled into him, resting her head against his shoulder. “It also doesn’t hurt that I love you. I think maybe I’ve always loved you.”
She echoed his earlier words back to him, matching his timing and pitch perfectly, telling him that even if she wasn’t one hundred percent secure yet, she was listening when he spoke. She was getting there.
“You want me to go down on you right now?”
“Don’t be a smartass.”
“I wasn’t. I would do anything to make sure you understand how much those words mean to me, Liv.”
“Anything?”
“Name it.” He was curious what it was she wanted, what she would come up with.
“You know that key I gave you?”
“I do.”
“Do you think maybe you could use it some time? That you could at least sleep here with me once or twice a week?”
Elliot’s heart constricted. “I’d love that, as long as you’re sure –”
“I am. You don’t even have to put out. I’m happy just to do this. To end a really long day together.”
“I can do that. Hell, I can do both.”
She snuggled even closer, and she was getting better about that, too. About seeking out comfort touch. “Even better.”
They were silent a moment, sleep close to claiming them. “What if I don’t get my shield back? Would that change things?”
“Why would that change things?”
“Would you think less of me?”
“Of course not. But if you want it back, you’ll get it back.”
“How are you so sure?”
“I just feel like things will work out.”
Well, that was certainly a change in tune from a year ago. “But what if they don’t?”
“Then you can be my house boy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. As long as you could be trusted not to dry my bras, we could work something out.”
He thought about it, what it would be like not to constantly be in life or death situations. To be available for her or Noah any time they needed him. To see his own kids and grandkids regularly. To be someone they could depend on instead of someone who always missed birthdays and family dinners. He wasn't ready yet, but the idea didn't terrify him the way it used to.
And either way, he loved the levity between them. The planning for the future, even if it was just in jest.
“Hey, you could do a lot worse as far as house boys go.”
“Oh, trust me. I know. Brian got suspended once when we were together. He was a terrible house boy.”
“That’s the yardstick you're measuring by? Brian Cassidy? Please, Liv. You insult me.”
“Well, I thought it was too soon to bring up Ed again.”
Elliot feigned indignance. “That's it. I'm putting an end to this. Take your pants off right now.”
“You can barely move at this point, and you would bust at least three stitches. Besides, I'm still good from the shower.”
“That was pretty good, wasn't it?”
“I could go for an encore. Same time next week?”
Elliot grinned. “It's a date, then. Maybe you can introduce me to your waterproof toys.”
“What makes you think I have waterproof toys?”
“That shower lube was awfully convenient.”
“Maybe that's just left over from my last house boy.”
“Okay. You win. I can't outwit you tonight.”
She pressed a sleepy kiss to his jaw. “Good night, El.”
“Night, baby.”
She was getting used to that, too, because she didn't even bother to correct him. Instead, she settled her hand over his heart and let out a soft little sigh.
“Will you put mushrooms and prosciutto in my omelet?”
“Of course I will.”
“Then you're hired.”