Chapter Text
Elliot's not the only one with a temper.
Randall's got one, too, and a key to Elliot's apartment and a bone to pick with his brother, so he drives over there once he's got Mama settled for the night, fingers tapping out an irritable rhythm on the steering wheel while he thinks about what a prick his little brother can be.
Sure, it's not ideal. Eli and Becky getting pregnant so young, leaving school, it's not what anybody would have planned for them. But they're not children any more, and it's up to them to make their own decisions. Elliot oughta understand that, Randall thinks, because he and Kathy were even younger than Eli and Becky when they got pregnant with Mo, and they did alright. Owned up to their mistakes, and put in the work, built a good life for their family. Elliot found himself in the exact same predicament Eli is in now, and he made the exact same choices, and everything worked out for him, so why is he so determined to act like Eli's made some irreversible mistake? Elliot got a girl pregnant when he was a kid, and he stood up, did the right thing, and he got a happy, forty year marriage and five beautiful, healthy kids out of it, and now he's got a good job with a pension and all that money from the private contracting work and four out of five kids living on their own, independent and doing well for themselves. There's no better ending to the story than that; Elliot oughta know from his own experience that an unplanned baby doesn't have to be anything other than a blessing.
So why the fuck is he acting like it's the end of the world?
Maybe he's just mad about Eli deciding to become a cop, but from where Randall's sitting it seems like there's no one to blame for that but Elliot. If he thinks the job's no good then why's he still doing it? Randall looked up the pay scale; rookie uniforms don't make a whole hell of a lot, but they make more than most kids without college degrees would at their first job, and the pay pretty much doubles after five years. There's good retirement benefits and that's hard to come by these days. There's job security, too; there's always gonna be work for a cop somewhere, and maybe one day Eli can do private security work, too, and get rich in the process. It seems like a smart choice, to Randall. Like Eli's thinking about the future, like the kid's got a solid plan to support his family. Elliot oughta be proud, and Randall can't understand why he isn't. Is it just that Elliot thinks the job took much from him?
Fuck that, Randall thinks. Eli doesn't have to be the kind of cop Elliot is. He doesn't have to be the kind of cop Pop was, either. If Eli wants to be there for his family, he will be.
Maybe that's why Randall's so pissed at Elliot. Elliot acts like he's got no choice, like there's someone holding a gun to his head, dragging him away from his family when they need him most, but Elliot's the one who chooses to pick up the phone. Every time the job calls, he answers. Doesn't let it go to voicemail, doesn't tell his son I'll deal with this later, you're more important; he makes the choice, every time. Every single morning when he wakes up Elliot makes the choice, because he could retire right now and keep making enough money to live comfortably. He could retire, and spend time with his grandkids, and heal his fractured relationship with his children.
He doesn't, though. He keeps picking up the phone. He keeps choosing the job.
Maybe Eli will be more balanced. Maybe after seeing the consequences of his father's choices up close he'll choose a better path. It's up to Eli, and the only way to find out how he's going to handle these challenges is to let him handle them and see what happens, not punish him for sins he hasn't even committed yet. Right now what Eli needs is support, someone to listen to him, to help him make the right choices, and all he's got is Elliot, yelling and waving his arms around like a lunatic. That's not gonna do anybody any good.
When Randall arrives at Elliot's apartment he knocks on the door first. He's got the key in his hand, but he decides to give his brother the chance to let him in before he busts his way inside. It's the polite thing to do, but Elliot doesn't answer the door, and that leaves Randall no choice. He unlocks the door himself.
There's no guarantee Elliot's even home. Randall spotted a couple black SUVs that look like Elliot's in the apartment parking but he can't tell which one, if any of them, belongs to his brother; they all look the same. Randall didn't bother calling because he knows chances are good Elliot wouldn't have picked up, anyway; El's always got time for the job, but it's a different story with his family. If he's not home that's fine with Randall; he'll wait. Drink Elliot's beer, watch his TV; there's worse ways to spend an evening, and Gabriel's got Mama handled. Randall will sit his ass right there on the couch and wait all night, if that's what it takes; he's not letting Elliot dodge this conversation.
It's not so very late; Mama's early to bed these days, and it's only about 9:00 when Randall goes storming into Elliot's apartment. There's lights on everywhere, the kitchen, the living room, but no sign of his brother. The weather's been nice, hot but dry, and when it's not raining Elliot keeps his workout equipment in the garden; if he's home, that's probably where he'll be. No time for his kids but the guy's got more than enough time to lift weights, judging from the way he looks these days. Thick neck, thicks arms, the asshole's built like a brick shithouse. And for what? Randall wonders. It's not like all those muscles will help him run down bad guys; Elliot's pushing sixty and he's got a bad knee. No amount of weight lifting is gonna change the facts.
To get to the patio Randall has to cross the apartment. Walk through the living room, past the corridor leading to Eli's bedroom - where Randall knows Eli isn't, tonight. Eli and Becky are visiting her parents - past the bathroom, right by Elliot's bedroom door.
He doesn't mean to look into the room. He doesn't really think Elliot's in there; it's too early for the old man to be asleep. It's just a reflex, really. Alone in someone else's home, walking by an open door, he glances inside just to make sure the room is empty.
It is not, and Randall will spend the rest of his life privately wishing he never looked inside. There are some things a man isn't meant to see.
Elliot is in the bedroom. Standing in the middle of the open floor between the end of the bed and the dresser, naked. And he is not alone.
There is a woman, with him. A woman, kneeling in front of him. A woman, as naked as he is, with thick hair, thick thighs, thick tits. A woman with her mouth around his -
Several things happen then, in rapid succession.
"Shit!" Randall swears, spinning away, trying to get the visual of his brother's naked ass out of his head, trying not to think about Elliot's hand, tangled in the woman's hair, trying not to think about the low, satisfied groan that rumbled out of Elliot's open mouth, but he stumbles as he tries to retreat, and knocks everything off the little console table by the door, the knicknacks and picture frames clattering to the floor with an unmistakable cacophony. Stealth has never been his strong suit.
"Shit!" Elliot swears, wrenching himself away from his woman, dick flapping in the breeze as he lunges forward and tries to shield her from view.
"Shit!" the woman swears, covering her pretty tits with her hands while Elliot catches his hand on the edge of the door and slams it violently closed.
The whole ordeal takes no more than two seconds, but it's two seconds too long. Randall saw everything: the spread of the woman's legs as she knelt, one of her hands busy between her own thighs and the other clutching Elliot's thigh; Elliot's broad back and the new tattoo between his shoulder blades Randall didn't know he had; Elliot's hand, tangled in her hair, holding her close to him while his hips thrusted into her soft open mouth, harder and faster than would be considered polite; her dark eyes staring up at him, makeup smeared around them. The shock of it is damn near enough to give him a heart attack; he's breathing like a bull about to charge now and more furious with his brother than he was when he arrived, if such a thing is possible. Elliot's got no time for Eli, but he's got time to get his dick sucked? Who is she, anyway, this woman who takes priority over his family, and what is Elliot doing, treating her that way? Pulling her hair, thrusting into her mouth, using her, from the looks of it? Randall never thought Elliot had it in him, to be so goddamn disrespectful; what other secrets is his brother hiding?
For a moment he waits, staring at the closed door, wondering what he ought to do next. Should he yell through the door, demand Elliot come out here and face him like a man? After that little display he isn't eager to see Elliot again; he's not sure he can have a serious conversation with his brother while his dick's still hard and his woman is pouting alone in the bedroom. But Randall doesn't want to leave; he's got some shit to say, and Elliot needs to hear it, whether he wants to or not. But Randall doesn't know the woman, and he doesn't want to embarrass her more than he already has; whoever she is, she didn't ask for this, doesn't deserve to be caught up in this mess.
Before Randall can make up his mind the bedroom door swings open again; Elliot's pulled on a pair of sweatpants and nothing else, and shit, Randall really wishes the bastard would put on a shirt, because he can still see the sheen of sweat on his brother's skin, can still see the deep red flush running from his chest up his neck to the tips of his ears, though Randall doesn't know if it is shame or pleasure that's left his brother red as a tomato. Elliot lunges through the door quickly, snaps it shut smartly behind him, too fast for Randall to catch another glimpse of the woman, who may very well be hiding at this point.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Elliot demands, all towering anger and righteous indignation, but Randall knows he's done nothing wrong, and Randall is the older brother, and he is not cowed by Elliot's fury.
"I should ask you the same thing," Randall says. "You don't pick up your phone and we need to talk."
"So you come over here on a Friday night with no warning?"
"Whatever it takes to get your attention," Randall tells him grimly. "Who is she, anyway?"
"None of your damn business," Elliot spits.
"You are my business, little brother." He is, and always has been. Randall was born first, and all his life it's been his job to look after Joey and Elliot, even if he hasn't always done it as well as he could have; he takes that obligation seriously now. Someone needs to stop Elliot from making the kind of mistake he can't take back.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, anyway?" Randall continues, incensed. "Seriously, man, that's no way to treat a lady."
Rough, and taking, that's not romance, in Randall's book. As far as he knows Elliot was faithful to Kathy for all the long years of their marriage; as far as Randall knows Elliot's only screwed one woman his whole life before now, and somehow he doesn't think Kathy would've let him get away with that shit. Pulling her hair and shit. And if he wouldn't do it to his wife he shouldn't do it to this lady either, whoever she is.
"I am not talking to you about her," Elliot starts to protest, but then they both hear it, the sound of a ringing cell phone from inside the bedroom.
"You've got to be kidding me," Randall throws his hands up in disgust. "We need to talk -"
The bedroom door opens a crack and a hand reaches through, holding out the ringing cell. The second Elliot takes it his woman retreats, slamming the door closed once more. Randall still hasn't gotten a good look at her without Elliot's ass in the way and he'd really, really like to, but just now he's more angry with his brother than he is curious about the woman.
"Stabler," Elliot grunts into the phone, stalking away from Randall, listening intently to the person on the other end of the line.
What is it about the job that makes Elliot so devoted? Randall wonders about that, sometimes. Wonders what it is that Elliot gets out of this job, when it's taken so much from him. When he's given so much to it, more like. All that time he's spent away from home when he should've been with his kids. Kathy dead at the hand of someone Elliot crossed in one of his investigations. What job could be worth that? The job killed his beautiful wife, the woman he loved with everything he had, the woman he loved his whole life, and Elliot's still doing it.
Maybe it makes him feel important. Maybe he just likes feeling like someone needs him. Maybe he just doesn't know what else to do.
Across the apartment Elliot ends the call and stalks back to Randall with a thunderous expression on his face.
"I've got to go," he says.
"Are you serious right now, man?"
Are you insane? Randalls wonders. How can Elliot walk away at a time like this? How can Elliot look him in the eye, and tell him the job is more important than Randall, than the woman on the other side of the door? Maybe it's just easier. Maybe he's just looking for an excuse to leave. Maybe he always has been.
"I gotta pick something up," Elliot says shortly. "We can talk tomorrow."
"Like hell we will." It'll be no better tomorrow, Randall knows. He's no more likely to get Elliot's attention on a Saturday than he is on a Friday night. "You just gotta do a pick up? That's fine, man. I'll wait here 'til you get home."
"No," Elliot says firmly, exasperated. "No, you will not -"
The door swings open and both men freeze, struck momentarily mute by the sudden appearance of Elliot's woman. She's walked out with boldness, isn't shying away from them, and for the first time Randall gets a good look at her, and the first thought that runs through his mind when he does is damn.
That's a good looking woman.
She's taken the time to clean herself up a little. She has a beautiful face; soft lips, big dark eyes, proud jaw. Her hair is thick and dark, mussed from Elliot's hands. She's tall, and the soft wrinkles at the corners of her pretty eyes make Randall think she's probably around Elliot's age. Her clothes are neat and professional, if a little wrinkled, and though she's covered from head to foot the smart blouse and well-fitting slacks don't so much hide the heavy weight of her breasts and the enticing curve of her ass as they accentuate them, make it impossible to look away from her.
Damn.
"I'm leaving," she says. Her voice is low and warm, but her eyes are wild, and she is moving quickly, trying to distance herself from the brothers, refusing to meet Randall's gaze. There's a purse by the door he didn't notice when he arrived, and she is trying to get there as quickly as she can, no doubt wanting to leave this awkward nightmare behind her.
Elliot doesn't let her go; he catches her by the arm hard enough to stop her in her tracks, and stares at her imploringly with his hand wrapped around her arm.
"Liv, please, wait," he says, almost begging. "Lemme…just…come here, a second."
He pulls her with him back into the bedroom, closes the door again, but this time Randall steps up close to it, and listens hard.
"He's my brother," he hears Elliot say through the door. "I don't know what his problem is -"
"You've gotta go to work," she points out. "I'm just gonna go home -"
"Liv, please. It'll be two hours, tops. This was supposed to be our night. I don't know when we're gonna get another chance and I don't want to lose it."
"It's fine -"
"Please, Liv." He sounds almost desperate. "I don't want…don't go to sleep alone if you don't have to. Just wait here for me, ok? Take a bath or something. I'll come back and we can spend the night together like we wanted."
"Elliot…"
"Please, just be here when I get back, ok? Please don't go."
Silence falls, for a few seconds, and Randall's mind is racing. Whoever this woman is, it's plain she matters to Elliot. That he cares about her, even if his behavior earlier didn't look too much like care. Somehow it doesn't sound to Randall like Elliot is just angling to finish what he started; it doesn't sound like all he wants is sex. It sounds like he wants her. Bad.
"I'll wait," the woman says finally.
There's quiet, again; maybe they're kissing, maybe they're just standing there, Randall doesn't know, but eventually the door opens again. Elliot's got a shirt on this time, and he marches right up to Randall, grim faced and determined.
"I gotta go," he says. "We'll talk tomorrow."
"I'll wait right here."
He feels a little bad for the woman. He doesn't want to ruin her night - any more than he already has - and he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable - any more than he already has - but this thing with Eli, this matters. It matters more than courtesy and Elliot's plans and that woman's comfort. It can't keep another night, another day, another week; Eli and Becky will come back from her parents' on Sunday, and Randall wants the kids to come home to a warmer welcome than the one they've received so far.
"For fuck's sake, Randall -"
"It's fine, Elliot," the woman says, cutting across his protests, shooting him a dark, warning kind of look.
"I'm not leaving you alone with -" Elliot spins around to face her, exasperated, but she is unmoved. She's made up her mind, and she seems determined to stay the course no matter what he says.
"I can handle myself," she tells him seriously.
Bet you can, Randall thinks. From the looks of it her self isn't the only thing she can handle.
"I'll make us something to eat -"
"You're gonna cook?" Elliot sounds shocked by the very idea.
"I'll order us something to eat," she amends. "And we'll both be here when you get back."
"I don't like this," Elliot grumbles, but then he looks at his phone, sees the time and sighs. "Fine. I gotta go. You," he points to Randall, "mind your fucking manners. Liv," he says to the woman, "I'll see you later."
"You will," she promises.
That's enough for Elliot, apparently; he storms off, collects his wallet and keys and then slams the front door behind him, leaving Randall alone with a beautiful woman who is staring at him like he's some dogshit she just discovered on the bottom of her shoe.
"Well," he says. "What's for dinner?"
She orders them a pizza, in the end. Pepperoni and sausage and green peppers and onions, and a Coke for him even though the doc says he needs to be watching his sugar. It'll be forty-five minutes at least until the pizza arrives, so Randall plays the part of the gracious host, pulls two beers out of Elliot's fridge and pops the tops off, and then joins the woman in the living room. There's a sofa and some armchairs, and she's chosen one of the armchairs, perhaps deliberately, perhaps intending to maintain some distance from him. Randall doesn't mind; he sprawls on the sofa with his arm stretched out along the back, and looks at her.
Damn. That's a good looking woman.
An angry one, too. She's ignoring him, just now; she took the beer he offered but she's engrossed in her phone, or pretending to be. Maybe she means to stare at that phone until Elliot comes back, but Randall's got other ideas. When's the next time he's gonna get a chance to talk to her? When's the next time he's gonna get a chance to learn more about the woman his brother is fucking? It's not like Elliot's ever been any good at talking; the only way Randall is ever gonna find out anything about her is if he hears it from the woman herself.
So he talks to her.
"I'm Randall, by the way," he says. "Elliot's brother."
"That's what he said," she tells him, not looking up from her phone.
"And you're…" he leaves it hanging, watching her expectantly. She's got her eyes glued to her phone but he knows she can feel it, the weight of his gaze on her face, and eventually she relents, looks up at him, sighs, and tucks the phone away.
"I'm Olivia," she says.
Liv, Elliot called her. Whatever they are to each other they've reached the nickname stage.
"And you're Elliot's girlfriend."
A choking sound that might be a laugh escapes her and she looks away, blushing. It's not the reaction he was expecting.
"You're not his girlfriend?" That makes the whole thing worse, somehow. If Elliot's fucking this woman, fucking her like that, and he won't even commit to her.
"No," she says. "I mean," she adds, thinking it over, "we're…we know what we are."
"Then how come you can't find a word for it?"
The look she levels at him is thoughtful, and cautious.
"Sometimes you don't need a word." There's something poetic about the idea behind her words and something sentimental in her tone; he could crack some joke about how he's pretty sure the words she's looking for are fuck buddies, but he doesn't because he wants to keep talking to her and because he wants her to like him.
'Well, all right, then. Olivia, not Elliot's girlfriend. Why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself? We got all night."
"Why don't you go first?" she fires back.
Elliot's got his hands full with this one, Randall thinks. She's a spitfire.
"Not much to tell," he shrugs. "Retired, divorced, got too much time on my hands."
"That why you're breaking into your brother's house on a Friday night?" she asks drily. It's not like he can blame her for being a little pouty over the interruption, but really, who does she think she is? Why does she think she has a right to be here, and he doesn't?
"I am sorry about that, before," he says. And he is, sorry, kinda; he's not sorry he showed up here and he's not sorry he insisted on staying and he's not sorry for being a thorn in Elliot's side, but he is sorry for her sake. She's got to be embarrassed, to have been caught in such a compromising position, embarrassed that the first time she met her not-boyfriend's brother she was naked with her mouth full, and he does wish they could've met under better circumstances.
"You didn't know I was here." It's not quite absolution; she doesn't tell him it's not big deal, doesn't assure him that it doesn't bother her - there's no way, he thinks, that it doesn't bother her - but she isn't screaming at him, isn't calling him names, isn't hiding from him.
"I didn't know Elliot had anybody." Partly he's trying to feel her out, trying to see if it'll rattle her, the knowledge that Elliot hasn't talked about her to his family, but she just returns his gaze steadily. "I'm just surprised a pretty girl like you doesn't have anywhere better to be."
"I'm right where I wanna be." She says it like she means it, like she's not ashamed of it. Won't call herself Elliot's girlfriend but has staked her claim on him anyway, and won't let the embarrassment of their initial introduction give Randall the upper hand. Good for her, he thinks. He likes a woman who's sure of herself.
"You oughta be careful with that one, you know," he tells her seriously. Randall doesn't know this woman, doesn't know where she came from or how she met Elliot, and she hasn't been particularly kind to him but she did buy him pizza - and a Coke - and he feels like he owes it to her, somehow. Feels like he oughta warn her.
"Why's that?" she asks, eyes narrowing shrewdly.
"His wife's just died. They were together a long time, he's never really been with anyone else. He can't communicate for shit and he doesn't…that man doesn't know a damn thing about women."
When would he have had the chance to learn? How to date, how to treat a lady when he's just getting to know her, how to woo her, when he hasn't started a new relationship since he was 17 years old? How can he care for someone new when he's still hung up on Kath, still visiting her grave, still missing her?
"It's been three years since Kathy died," Olivia tells him quietly. As if she knows that better than he does. She says Kathy's name so easily it's galling; what gives her the right? "And he knows more than you think."
"Oh, so you like that, huh? That in there," he jerks his thumb towards the bedroom door, "him pushing you around like that?"
"It's none of your business what I like."
People keep trying to tell Randall what is and isn't his business, and it's starting to get under his skin. What's he supposed to do, just sit back and watch this trainwreck happen and do nothing to stop the impending disaster? That was his MO for a long, long time; when he got kicked out of the house, when he bought that ticket for Mama and she didn't show, he washed his hands of all of them. For years he only looked out for himself. And what did it get him, in the end? He built himself a business and made good money, and never really made his wife happy and watched her walk away from him. His own kids barely speak to him; they're not mad at him, or anything. They just don't seem to care too much. Joey's so desperate for other people's approval he's thrown his whole life away. Mama kept suffering, after he left, right up until the day Pop died, and suffered after, too, suffered in silence, going slowly mad in the beach house in Jersey with no one around to help.
Hindsight, and everything. He can see it all so clear now. How he should've taken better care of Mama, how he should've been more involved in his brothers' lives, should've been there to help them, to guide them. How he should've talked to his kids more when they were growing up, should've made them feel like they could share their lives with him. All the things he should've done, and all the damage caused by his inaction, it weighs on him. He's gonna make Elliot his business now, because he doesn't want his brother to end up like him. Lonely, and alienated from his children. If there's one benefit to being older than El surely it's the wisdom that comes from having made his own mistakes.
"I'm not gonna tell you how to live your life," he says. Whoever she is, Olivia isn't his responsibility. Maybe, hopefully, she's got a family of her own to look out for her. Elliot is his business, though. "Was just trying to do you a favor."
"You don't have to tell me what he's like," she says. 'Trust me, I know."
How could she know, though? This woman, how could she know anything about Elliot, really, when Elliot is so determined not to talk about the things that matter, about his feelings, about his past? All she knows is what he's told her, and Randall thinks that can't be much. Whatever Elliot's shared with her, it's probably just a watered down version of the story. The version of the story that leaves out all the messy, ugly truths. Talking about his failures and his complicated family history is no way to woo a woman into his bed.
"Oh, yeah?" Randall says darkly. "You know all about what he's going through right now? What he's putting his kids through?"
The kids are why Randall's come. Someone has to stick up for those fucking kids. Maureen, living her mother's life all over again because she was never shown another way. Katie, alone and unpredictable, impulsive and earnest and too much like Mama, and no one there to save her. Dickie, who won't speak to his father, and Lizzie, who won't speak to anyone. And Eli, desperately trying to find some way to take care of his child when he's hardly more than a child himself. Those kids, they need their dad, and Randall is gonna plant his roots right here in this couch, will refuse to move until he's gotten through to Elliot. Olivia is beautiful, and there's something interesting, compelling about her, but she's not family. Family comes first.
"He's not doing the undercover work -"
It's interesting that she knows about the work. El always makes such a big deal about keeping it secret, always cuts off any inquiry with a speech about how it's confidential and it's safer for people not to know what he does. And no, he's not undercover - not undercover right now, but he was, not too long ago, and Randall's sure he will be again - but that's not Randall's concern.
"I'm not talking about the undercover work," he says.
"You're talking about Eli."
So she knows, then. Knows that the man who was just fucking her face has a new grandbaby on the way. Wonder what she thinks about that?
"You're damn right I'm talking about Eli. Someone's gotta help that kid -"
"You think Elliot isn't trying to help him?" she asks in a tone of consternation. "He's trying to save him."
"Save him from what? From being a good father?"
"From making the same mistakes Elliot did," she says quietly. There is something sad and knowing in her face; she is watching Randall from across the coffee table in a way that feels almost pitying. As if she knows more than he does, as if he's just too dim, too ill-informed, to grasp the gravity of the situation.
The thing is, Randall knows Elliot made mistakes. He's just not sure if his own idea of a mistake and Olivia's are the same. It was a mistake, Randall thinks, not to become a cop but to let the job consume him. It was a mistake to put the work first and leave Kathy to care for their family almost entirely on her own. It was a mistake to disappear off to Italy and leave the older kids to fend for themselves. But it doesn't seem like Eli is on track to do any of those things, so what, exactly, does Olivia think Elliot's mistakes are?
Anger flares in him; it sounds to him like she's implying that marrying Kathy, doing the right thing when he got that girl pregnant, was a mistake. That everything that followed after, all the kids and all the long years of his marriage, was a mistake, too. The best thing Elliot ever did, in Randall's opinion, was not abandon Kathy when they were teenagers, and instead build a life with her, a home where their children were safe and loved, even if their old man wasn't always around. How could that be wrong?
"Standing up, doing the right thing, you think that's a mistake?"
Jesus, he thinks, what's wrong with this woman?
"I think Eli is very young, and he doesn't understand the sacrifice he's about to make," she says coolly. "The choices he makes right now are going to determine the rest of his entire life, and Elliot is afraid that Eli's going to wake up one day twenty years from now with a lot of regrets. He wants his son to be happy. He's just…he's scared that Eli won't be."
Wasn't Elliot happy? Beautiful wife, great kids, a job that clearly meant everything to him; wasn't he happy? He always looked happy. In the pictures Kathy used to share on social media, the few times Randall saw him at Christmas, Elliot always looked happy. Arm around his wife, smiling at his kids, the fucker looked like he had it all. The last few months, since Randall came back to the city, since they started spending time together, Elliot's looked a lot less happy, but Randall's always just assumed that was because Kathy was gone, because Elliot was grieving and struggling to find his way without her. The idea that he wasn't happy, that the last forty years he spent with his family made him unhappy, is disturbing, to Randall. It's frightening, makes his brother sound selfish, and mean. What kind of fucker would resent his own wife, his own children?
"Elliot loves his kids," Olivia continues. "You know he does. They're his whole world. But he went straight from high school to fatherhood. There's a lot of things he never got to do and a lot things he never got to learn about himself and he'll swear on your mother's life he doesn't regret any of it, but that doesn't mean there isn't a part of him that wishes he'd had the chance to find a different path for himself. That's what he wants for Eli."
Randall's never really thought about it, before. What Elliot would've been, if it wasn't this. Where he would've gone, what he would've done. Elliot's been a husband, a father, his entire adult life - and most of Randall's - and somewhere along the way Randall forgot to ask. If this was what he really wanted. If there was anything he regretted. Randall's ashamed, now, of his own callous blindness, but he doesn't want her to know that.
"He's not doing a hell of a lot to help make Eli happy right now," Randall grumbles. "Yelling at the kid, making him feel like shit -"
"He's just scared -"
"Scared of what? Scared that Eli will end up just like him? Would that be so bad?"
For a long moment she just looks at him. Pretty as a picture with a beer bottle in her hands, eyes big and dark and sad. Looks at him like she's trying to read his mind, like she's trying to find the answer to some unfathomable question in his eyes.
"You don't know anything about him at all, do you?" she says finally in a voice heavy with sorrow.
"He's my brother, I think I know him pretty good." And this woman, whoever she is, she doesn't know a damn thing. How could she?
"Then you know the one thing he's always been afraid of most is turning into his father," she says. He was my father, too, Randall thinks. And Elliot loved Pop, when they were kids. Looked up to him, wanted to be just like him. Is just like him, in so many ways. He wants to tell her so, but Olivia isn't finished.
"He wanted to go to college. He'd even picked the school he wanted. He didn't want to be a cop."
That's news to Randall. All those questions he never thought to ask, it sounds Olivia knows the answers to them already.
"But he never got the chance to choose for himself. He had to give up his dreams. Do you know what it did to him, joining the Marines?"
"Elliot loved being a Marine," Randall insists before he can stop himself.
"He still has nightmares about it sometimes," she fires back. "He hated it. The Marines took him away from his family. He was deployed when Maureen was born and he still regrets not being there. He spent so many years worried about money and hating himself for not spending enough time with his family while he was trying to earn enough to keep them fed. Do you know how many times Kathy tried to leave him? Do you have any idea how unhappy she was?"
No. No, he's got no idea. Of all of them, Kathy always seemed the happiest. She was always kind, always warm and affectionate. When he closes his eyes he can still picture her smile. She loved her babies, loved her man, why wouldn't she be happy?
"What makes you such an expert, huh?"
It's offensive, somehow, the idea that Elliot's told the woman he's fucking more about his heart than he's ever confided in his brother. It's wrong; Randall is his brother, and Randall is supposed to know him better than anyone, is supposed to be the person he can turn to when he needs guidance, someone to talk to. They've shared a lot, the last few months, talked a lot about the old days and regrets and they're closer now than they've been since they were kids, but everything this woman's saying, it's all news to Randall. It is also, he thinks, only one side of the story. What does she know about Kathy, anyway, when Kathy died before this woman even came on the scene? Only what Elliot's told her, and Elliot isn't the kinda guy who'll readily admit to his own culpability.
"I knew Kathy," she says simply.
What?
"I've known Elliot for twenty-five years."
What?
Twenty-five years. A goddamn quarter century, and Randall's never seen her face, never heard her name before now. It's as if Elliot has this whole other life, this secret life that has, until now, been hidden from Randall, this life full of people, full of dreams and desires and regrets that Randall knew absolutely nothing about. How deep does it go, he wonders; how much of himself has Elliot kept locked away from the family that shares his blood?
"He's my friend, and I've seen what it did to him," Olivia says grimly. "The choices he made, the things he regrets, the things he feels guilty for. You're his brother. Did you ever bother to ask him if he was happy? When they were seventeen and Kathy was pregnant did anybody even try to help them find another way? Or did you all just tell him he had to be a man?"
In truth, Randall wasn't around when Kathy got pregnant. He found out about the whole ordeal secondhand from his sisters. But he knows Olivia is right, about this at least; there was no question, when Kathy got pregnant, that Elliot was gonna marry her. Both sets of parents were catholic, and they insisted on it. Married, with a baby on the way, Elliot's options for work were limited; of course he joined the Marines, and everybody wanted him to. It was the right choice. It was the best choice.
Wasn't it?
This woman, she sounds angry on Elliot's behalf. All her arguments are marshaled and ready to go, and she is pulling no punches with him, sounds like she's been waiting for years to call Elliot's family to task for failing him as a teenager. If she's known him twenty-five years, maybe she has been. Waiting all this time to defend him. As if he needs defending; as far as Randall's concerned, Elliot marrying Kathy was the right thing but he wasn't a part of that decision and he won't be chided for it.
"Everybody has to make sacrifices when they have kids."
He did himself. Sold his beloved Mustang, traded it in for a minivan. Didn't golf as much as he wanted to, or travel as much as he wanted to, or see his friends as much as he wanted to. Sacrificed sleep and sex and money, tried to put the kids' needs first. That's just being a parent.
"Of course we do," she says, says we like she's included in that, like she's got a kid herself. "But Elliot and Kathy, they were somebody's kids, too. Who was making sacrifices for them?"
"It's not that easy, with a baby in the mix -" Randall's thinking about Elliot, sure, but he's thinking about Eli, too. The kids don't wanna abort; they wanna have their baby, and they're trying their best to take responsibility for it, and how could anyone say that was the wrong decision? That it's a mistake?
"Elliot's not upset about the baby," she cuts him off. "Elliot loves babies. He's not angry about the baby. He wants Eli to go to college. He wants Eli to have more opportunities than he did. He wants to help make that happen. Is that so bad?"
It wouldn't be so bad, Randall thinks, if Elliot would just say that. If he would've just taken Eli aside and talked about how to make it work, come up with some plan where the kid could still go to school. It could be done, maybe; if Elliot or Becky's parents let the kids live with them, if the kids get part time jobs and go to school online and the families help with childcare, it might be doable. Money would be tight and life would be hard, but it's not impossible.
The thing is, though, that Elliot hasn't said any of this. Elliot hasn't offered that help, has just been furious about Eli's intention to join the NYPD and not given any damn reason why. Eli is scared and hurting and his dad's just making everything worse. The way Olivia talks, she makes Elliot sound noble, somehow, but she doesn't see the hurt Elliot's causing.
"This is supposed to be helping? Him all pissed off, pushing Eli away?"
"You know what he's like." She runs her fingers through her hair, sighs, a little fondly, a little exasperatedly. "When he found out he just…reacted. He was scared and he let the fear speak for him." How does she know that, Randall wonders; it's not like she was at the cookout the day Eli came clean to his father. Did Elliot tell her? Tell her how upset he got, how everyone else in the family was relieved but he lashed out? It comes as a surprise to Randall; he didn't think Elliot would ever admit to that.
"He's coming around," Olivia continues. "He knows what he needs to say to Eli, and he's planning to talk to him about everything when the kids get back on Sunday."
Isn't that convenient, Randall thinks. That it's only now, after he's hurt Eli, after he's made the kid feel like shit, that Elliot's come up with some grand plan to put things right. It's the outcome Randall wanted, anyway, but it feels too easy.
"You have anything to do with that?" he asks. "This big change of heart?" Somehow he doesn't think Elliot came up with the idea to talk to Eli on his own.
"We talked about it," she says evenly. "But he already knew he needed to fix this. He's just…he's a little hurt, you know."
"He's hurt?" Elliot's the one who's trying to shatter Eli's plans with his own two fists, and he's hurt?
"After everything the job has taken from your family, not a single one of you wanted to stop Eli from signing up?"
She says it like an accusation, like the family has somehow let Elliot down, let Eli down, and what the fuck do you know, that's what Randall wants to say to her now. But that would just be reacting, wouldn't it, would just be lashing out, exactly like Elliot did when he heard Eli's news.
The thing is, yeah, when Eli said he was gonna be a cop, everybody seemed happy. Maureen was happy, even Mama was happy. Randall himself approved of the decision. Law enforcement is an old Stabler family tradition.
But maybe Olivia has a point. Maybe that's not a good thing. Pop was a cop; and he was violent, and drunk, and corrupt, took bribes and lied and fucked anything in a skirt, and when he was forced out he spent the rest of his life ranting and raving about the job. Elliot was a cop, and he was never around, let the job come between him and his wife, him and his kids, and is still tied to it now, still risking his life daily. It's a dangerous job, a thankless one. Before now when Randall thought about Eli joining up he thought it was a good thing, a stable profession and decent money and an investment in the future, but maybe Olivia's right. Maybe he wasn't thinking about the cost.
People shoot at Elliot. He's been hurt on the job, more than once. The job calls for him at all hours of the day and night. The job got Kathy killed.
It's an uncomfortable feeling, this realization that he hadn't put himself in his brother's shoes before now. Hadn't really looked at things from Elliot's perspective. He'd thought that since Elliot had been in this position before he might be proud of Eli for making the same choices, but he sees now why Elliot might be scared. Scared that his son was giving up his dreams, scared that his son was putting his life in danger, scared because he thought Eli turning out just like him was a bad thing. For all the frustration he causes Elliot's something of a golden child in the family, successful and steady, the grownup one, but Randall is beginning to see the toll that role has taken on him.
The one thing he's always been afraid of most is turning into his father. And now he's terrified that Eli's turning in to him, too, like there's some kind of inescapable curse on their family.
Did it feel like a betrayal, he wonders, when the family praised Eli for taking the same job they chastise Elliot for? Did Elliot expect the family to back him up when he objected to Eli's plans? What did it do to him when they didn't?
"You saw what happened to him, and you wanted to do the same thing to Eli." She sounds sad, but angry, too, angry like she thinks Randall and his mother and his niece have hurt Elliot on purpose.
She's not the only one who's angry. Talk about none of your business, he thinks. This is a private matter, a family matter, and to hear her lob accusations at him, claim that he isn't doing what's best for his family, gets his hackles up.
"I don't know where you get off -"
"Someone has to stand up for Elliot," she says grimly. "He'll do anything to take care of his family, and somebody's got to take care of him."
We do, Randall thinks. Don't we?
"And if it were me," she continues, "if my son wanted to be a cop? I'd be scared, too. I don't want this life for him."
"What would you know about it?"
"I've been on the job my whole life," she tells him grimly. "I know exactly what it costs. I want better for my son."
That explains it, Randall thinks. How she met Elliot, how they've known each other so long, why she's on his side. She's one of them. Just like Elliot, probably, always taking the call and not spending enough time with her son and angry at everyone else in the world for the state of her life, refusing to see that she's got no one to blame for any of it but herself.
"It's a job," he says tersely. "You choose to do it. And you choose how much you let it take over your life." Elliot chose, too.
The look she levels at him is dark and full of fire. "You don't get it at all, do you?"
No, he really doesn't.
"The work we do…we're saving people's lives. We're helping people. And we do it because someone has to. Someone has to be there when the phone rings. When people get hurt, when people get killed, someone has to pick up the pieces. All his life people have been telling Elliot to be responsible, to be a man, to do the right thing and take care of others and you're surprised he's devoted to his job?"
"It doesn't have to be him -"
"So it's fine for someone else to do the job, you just don't want it to inconvenience you?"
"If you think the job is so good and important why isn't Elliot proud of Eli for choosing it?"
"Because Elliot's supposed to be the one with the world on his shoulders. He's supposed to be the one to make the sacrifices so his kids don't have to. What was it all for if Eli ends up in the same damn position?"
What was it all for? The long nights and the phone calls, and all the unhappiness, apparently; is what she says true? Is Elliot just trying to find some way to make it all mean something, to convince himself it was worth it?
"That why you do it?" he asks. "You do the job so your kid doesn't have to?"
"I do my job for the kids just like my son," she says. "For the kids like him, like me and like Elliot, who needed help and didn't get it."
"Elliot did just fine -"
"Your father beat him," she says, like he needs the reminder. "He beat your mother, I'm sure he hurt you, too. Your mother hurt him, too." Randall didn't know that, about Mama. Didn't know she ever hurt him. "You don't think things might have gone differently if someone had been around to help you?"
"Pop was a cop, no one on the job was gonna stand up to him." And Randall has always hated that, the knowledge that his father's behavior was allowed, approved, even, by the very people who should have put a stop to it. "You always protect your own."
"I don't. Elliot doesn't. Last year Elliot risked everything to bring down a ring of corrupt cops. You don't think that had anything to do with your father? With trying to make amends for what he did?"
It feels to Randall as if he's playing this game a few cards shy of a full hand. It seems like Olivia knows so much more than he does, and every time he tries to defend himself, his family, their beliefs, she puts another card down, and moves one step closer to winning the whole pot. It's clear, now, why she knows so much, why Elliot has confided so much in her; she's like him. Not like his family, questioning him, in the dark about what he's doing and why. She knows everything, it seems, all the things Elliot's never told anyone else. It isn't fair, though; how can Elliot's family stand by him, support him, know him, if he doesn't ever fucking tell them anything?
"Be a lot easier to take if I heard all this from him," he grumbles.
"Why would he tell you?" She isn't cutting him any slack. "You were raised in that house. You trying to tell me you were taught to be open and honest about your emotions?"
No, no they were not. If the boys were caught crying they'd catch Pop's hand, and Mama wasn't any easier to talk to, lost in her own grief.
There's a part of Randall that wants to keep fighting Olivia. That wants to keep defending himself, his family, the choices that they all made. When he was younger he would've. He would've kept right on arguing with her until Elliot came home and threw him out, and then he would've sulked and called Elliot later to tell him what a righteous bitch he'd found for himself.
The thing is, though, that Randall isn't young, anymore. He's older, past sixty and looking back on his life with clear eyes, looking ahead with the determination not to keep making the same mistakes. He's trying to be a better man, to do better by his brothers, by the kids, than he did before. He's been trying to get Elliot to open up and mostly failing - only mostly, though, they've made some strides - and isn't this what he wanted? To understand what's going through his brother's head, to help him?
This woman, this conversation, has upset him, but it's cleared some of the cobwebs away from the situation. His pride doesn't want him to concede that she's right, but his heart sees the truth already. Really, she's done him a favor.
"You love him, don't you?"
The scene Randall walked in on, that didn't look a whole lot like love, but if he's learned anything tonight it's that nothing he's looking at is what it appears to be. The way this woman defends Elliot, the way she's clearly earned his confidence and understands the things she's been told, understands Elliot, it has to be love. She's not his girlfriend; we know what we are sounded at first to Randall like a deflection, like two people enjoying fucking each other but not sure where their hearts lie, but he thinks he had that all wrong. Maybe she's more than a girlfriend.
"I do," she says softly.
How long? He wonders. She said she's known Elliot twenty-five years, said she knew Kathy. Is comfortable and naked in Elliot's bedroom three short years after Kathy died. How long has she loved him? What other secrets is she keeping for him? That's an unsettling thought. Kathy used to complain to the girls, sometimes, that Elliot didn't talk to her as much as she'd like, but Elliot's bared his heart to Olivia. Was it the same when Kathy was alive? Was Elliot telling Olivia the things he should've told his wife? What's her role in all this?
"Did you love him when he was married?"
If looks could kill, he'd be dead on the floor right now.
"Elliot was always devoted to his family," she says sharply, the emphasis on devoted heavy, and grim. "All he ever wanted was to get home to them."
"All he ever wanted was to be a damn superhero." Apparently Randall's not done; he wanted to steer this conversation in a safer direction but anger is flaring up in his belly again. "Bet it feels good, saving the world."
"You think he was being selfish?"
"You're damn right I do." What other word is there to describe it, he wonders, besides selfish? Staying in the job, even after it cost him his wife, going undercover when Eli was still in high school, pushing the kid away; what is that, if not selfishness?
"If he was selfish, he would've gone home. He loved his wife and his kids and he wanted to be with them more than anything. If you think he doesn't regret it -"
"If he regrets it so much why does he keep doing it?"
"What else is he supposed to do?"
Their rapid fire exchange draws to a sudden halt as Olivia's final question hovers in the air between them. As far as Randall's concerned there's an easy, obvious answer; he's supposed to retire. Supposed to take his pension and live out his days with his family. Watching the grandkids play baseball and talking to Eli and enjoying his life, for once, instead of rushing headlong into the next calamity. Maybe Olivia doesn't know everything.
"He doesn't have to do the job."
"Yes," she insists, "he does. We both do. If you take that away from him…he doesn't know who he is and he's scared to find out."
"He'll have to, one day." There's a mandatory retirement age for cops - Randall found that out, when he was googling the pay scale for Eli - and Elliot's not that far off from it. The day is coming when the job is gonna force him out, no matter what he wants.
"And he will. When he's ready."
"He's not ready now?" Why wouldn't he be? Elliot's the only person Randall knows who isn't chomping at the bit to retire, and he can't understand why that is.
"There's still work to do," Olivia says simply.
"For you, too?"
"Yeah. For me, too." These days Elliot is working organized crime, mobsters and traffickers; what kind of work does Olivia do, Randall wonders, and what does it mean to her?
"When's it gonna be enough? Where's the line, here?"
"We do it until we can't," she says. "It's the same for both of us. We'll do it until we can't."
The way she talks, it's like they're cursed. Like it's a forgone conclusion, like they've sold their souls in service to a job that is never, ever gonna give back as much as it takes from them, but she doesn't resent it. Her tone is accepting, resigned; we'll do it until we can't.
No wonder Elliot doesn't want Eli to take the job.
"Maybe you're right," Randalls says. "You and Elliot. Maybe the job's no good for Eli. I'm glad he's come around, I'm glad he's gonna talk to the kid. But if he gets all pissed off and starts yelling again -"
"He's not gonna," Olivia assures him. "Eli is…Eli is special. Elliot loves his kids, you know he does, but Eli is…sensitive. Elliot knows that. When Eli told him about the job he blindsided him and Elliot didn't have time to think it through. He's thought about it, now. He knows what he wants to say."
Talk about a curse, Randall thinks. Eli is the youngest boy, sensitive and sheltered, and goddamn if that isn't shades of Joe Jr. Significantly younger than his older siblings, born late enough that he missed the most tumultuous days of his family's history, ignorant to everything that came before, protected from it. No one's ever called Dickie sensitive, but that doesn't mean he isn't. It just means he wasn't allowed to be. Eli is, though. That kind of coddling, it set Joe Jr. up for failure. Maybe it'll protect Eli now. Christ, he hopes they can protect Eli.
"It's never enough, is it," Randall muses. "This whole raising kids thing, I keep feeling like…we keep learning the lessons a few years too late. I didn't realize I was pushing my kids away until I woke up one day and couldn't remember when's the last time they called me. Elliot wants to support his kids and didn't figure out how to do it until he got to the last one."
"Nobody's perfect," Olivia shrugs. "We're all just doing the best we can. If we aren't good enough now, we just have to keep trying to be better."
"What about you, huh? We been talking an awful lot about Elliot. What's your story?"
"I'm still learning, too," she says. "Still learning how to be what my kid needs me to be. Still learning how to balance the work I do with being his mom. I don't always get it right. But I'm trying."
"Where is he tonight? Your kid?"
"Sleepover," she confessed.
This was supposed to be our night, that's what Elliot told her when he begged her to stay. I don't know when we're gonna get another chance. It's all so clear, now; Eli and Becky out of the house, Olivia's kid away at a sleepover, the two of them finally had a night to themselves - probably a rare opportunity, since they'd both kids at home to worry about - and then Randall came crashing down right in the middle of it.
When Elliot left, before this revelatory conversation with Olivia, Randall was determined to stay. To hash things out with his brother, to refuse to leave until Elliot saw sense. To hear Olivia tell it, though, Elliot's already made up his mind, already resolved to do better, already come up with a plan to rebuild the bridges between himself and son, to help him. Everything Randall wants to say to him, it sounds like Elliot knows it already.
There isn't any point in staying, he realizes now. He could stay, could eat the pizza Olivia ordered for them and drink his Coke and get into a shouting match with his brother when Elliot comes home, but what good will that do? It'll just sour Elliot's mood, and ruin this night for him and Olivia, and it might make it that much harder for Elliot to trust him again.
Besides, Randall kinda likes Olivia, and he kinda wants her to like him, and he thinks she'll like him better if he's not around.
"I'm gonna go," he says, rising slowly to his feet. Olivia mirrors him, stands up and sets her beer bottle down on the side table.
"You don't have to," she says. "I know you want to talk to Elliot."
"It sounds like he's got it all figured out," Randall says. "I'll call him tomorrow so he knows I'm not pissed at him. But between you and me, I'm not leaving for him. I'm leaving for you."
"For me?" she repeats, surprised.
"Yeah," he grins. "You looked like you were having fun before, far be it from me to stop you."
"Fuck off," she grumbles, blushing.
"Besides, I think I like you better than him, anyway."
"I won't tell him you said that."
"Thanks," he says, and then adds seriously, "I mean it. Thanks for everything, Olivia."
"You take care of yourself," she tells him.
"You, too. Don't spend so much time looking after him that you forget to look after yourself."
"I won't," she says. He wonders if she means it.
It's her turn to play the part of the host, walking him to the door, holding it open for him.
"Don't let Elliot drink my Coke," he says as he steps through the door.
"I won't," she promises.
"Don't be a stranger."
"I don't think we've seen the last of each other."
He gives her a once over, makes it obvious he's oggling her, and she laughs ruefully when he does it.
"I hope not," he says, and then he walks away, whistling.
No, somehow he doesn't think he's seen the last of Olivia, Elliot's not-girlfriend. And thank god for that; it seems Elliot Stabler has finally found someone he'll listen to, and she's got a good head on her shoulders, and maybe, just maybe, with her help, they'll all be ok.
Tomorrow he'll call his brother. Offer to help with Eli; he's got no interest in looking after a baby, but he does have a car and a little money in the bank. He can help ferry the kids to appointments and pitch in for a crib and maybe a babysitter every now and then. He can help Elliot figure out student loans and all that shit. Together, they can do this; they can build a better world for Eli than the one they've both known. And really, he thinks, really isn't that the point of it all, the point of being a parent? To set their kids up to succeed, and not to fail?
It's Olivia who's shown the truth to him, Olivia whose fierce, fiery love of Elliot has opened Randall's eyes. And isn't that what Elliot's needed all along, Randall thinks; the love of a woman, guiding him on, guiding him home.