L&O: SVU fic: Fallen 3
part 3...
Chapter Nine
She took another sip to drown out the thought. As long as she’d known Elliot, she and Kathy had existed in parallel worlds with Elliot being the only point of intersection. Elliot had always been the man who didn’t take his work home and didn’t bring his personal life to the office. Elliot had always kept Olivia and Kathy in different realms, which could have been insight into the fact that they were so different they would never get along or it might have simply been that he didn’t want them ganging up on him. It wasn’t like Olivia could ever ask him about it, not since she generally liked to pretend that Kathy didn’t exist.
Olivia propped her elbow up on the armrest and yawned. Considering that she’d realized she was in love, slept with her partner, quit her job, and drunk herself stupid in just over twelve hours, Olivia wasn’t sure it would be rude to ask Kathy to leave. She wasn’t sure she wouldn’t fall asleep right where she was and leave Kathy sitting there alone.
“I need Elliot to come home.”
Her words confused Olivia. Elliot wasn’t much for confiding in her. Elliot liked to keep things to himself until they were completely out of hand, so in retrospect, she thought it was surprising he’d even told her about the pregnancy. Not that his pregnant estranged wife wasn’t out of hand. Of course, the fact that she was pregnant meant that she wasn’t really all that estranged, but that pissed her off and she didn’t want to think about it.
She glanced at Kathy and realized the other woman was waiting for some kind of response. Kathy expected whole-hearted agreement, a statement that her husband absolutely needed to go home and raise a second generation of children with her, to let himself get hurt by her again. But she couldn’t make anything come out. She remained quiet.
Kathy’s eyes widened when she noticed the silence had stretched beyond the possibility that Olivia was searching for the right words. It was obvious that the silence meant something, and she suspected she knew exactly what. Her voice was soft and controlled, yet laced with tension and anger. Olivia pitied Elliot for having had to hear it untold numbers of times over the years. But she was irritated with him over it too, because he’d never let her use that tone with him. “Is there something you want to tell me about my husband?”
Olivia weighed her options. There was always the truth, but the pain in admitting what had happened, that regardless of the connection she’d thought they found, he’d gone back to Kathy after all, was too much. Olivia felt tears threatening and took a sip to ward them off. She could always tell Kathy how Elliot had suffered when she left him, how he’d been hurt terribly by their separation, but that he’d survived. Kathy had never realized that Elliot had gotten through it, fought his way clear of the pain of losing his family, and had been fine without her.
She understood finally where her deep resentment of Kathy had started. She’d seen how stressed and upset the strain of his marriage had made Elliot over the years. She’d seen the guilt and self-loathing he’d felt over not being able to be there for his family like normal husbands and fathers. She knew that Kathy had done little to comfort him, that she’d tried to use his sense of responsibility to make him into the man she wanted rather than loving the man he was. And most of all, she’d seen Elliot in those precious months after he’d signed the divorce papers, after he’d let go of the albatross that had been choking him for years. He’d been the same man she’d always known, but somehow better. Olivia had liked unattached Elliot. She enjoyed his easy-going manner and quick jokes and flirtatious smiles, even when they were fighting. Life with him was easier and, Olivia suspected, life for him was easier too, even if he didn’t know it.
And there was Kathy, holding the rope and asking Olivia to help her tie it tight around his throat once again.
“Look, Kathy, I don’t think this is something I should be involved with.” It was as close to telling her she was wrong as Olivia dared to get. Unfortunately, Olivia suspected some of the meaning was lost on the fact that she was slurring so badly she barely recognized the words she was saying.
Olivia watched as Kathy’s jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. She didn’t like what was coming; she knew it before the other woman opened her mouth. But the words were worse than she expected.
“Are you having an affair with my husband?”
Olivia’s mouth fell open. Well, now, that was an interesting question. Her gut reaction was to deny it, to say it was absolutely untrue. She’d heard the accusation, the suggestion, countless times over the years. It was a common mistake for people to make when they saw Olivia and Elliot together, provided they weren’t flashing their badges, especially when they were squabbling over stupid things while Elliot picked food off her plate. She’d deflected the statement a million times without so much as a thought. No, they were friends. Partners. Acquaintances. Coworkers. Anything. Just not a couple.
But it was different coming from Kathy. She could have blamed it on the alcohol, which would have been a perfectly rational explanation for her paranoia. She could have blamed it on the fact that she had slept with the woman’s husband only a few hours earlier, which also would have been a sufficient cause for her to feel like the world was out to get her.
Neither of them was the reason though. It wasn’t some random stranger confusing a man and a woman walking together as lovers. It wasn’t a ridiculing coworker accusing them of bickering like a married couple.
No, it was his wife. And she was making the suggestion that something could be going on between them. Something that seemed so preposterous when said by a stranger as to usually cause her to laugh seemed terribly possible coming from Kathy.
Which made Elliot’s actions that much more painful. Realizing that she was in love with him made a relationship between them sound reasonable to Olivia. Hearing that Kathy feared that very thing made a relationship between them sound perfectly plausible. But that morning, when he’d asked her if she expected him to leave Kathy for her, his tone and delivery gave Olivia the impression that he thought such a thing was completely out of the sphere of rational thought. And he’d made Olivia feel like a fool for thinking there was even a remote chance of it ever happening.
Olivia had been used for sex before. She figured that by her age most women had had the unpleasant experience of knowing the man that seemed so perfect the night before wasn’t ever going to call again. But she’d never been used that way by someone she knew so well, by someone she truly believed was above acting so selfishly, by someone she loved.
Of course, it was only fair to qualify the truth by acknowledging that, with the standard exception of a few teenage crushes, she’d never actually been in love with anyone before, making it thus impossible for her to be used by him. Not that it took the pain away. That was the vodka’s job. And the vodka was about to be fired for failing entirely to carry out its responsibilities.
Setting the mug down on the coffee table, Olivia noticed her unwelcome guest was staring at her. The irritated expression on her face reminded Olivia that Kathy expected an answer. Unfortunately, Olivia couldn’t remember the question.
“Huh?”
Kathy’s face reddened, revealing her fury. “Are you having an affair with Elliot?”
Olivia closed her eyes, decided the vodka was not to blame for not working after all, and reached out for it. In her drunken state, and with her eyes closed, her coordination was somewhat lacking. She knocked the mug onto its side, spilling what was left on the pile of magazines. It took all the concentration she could muster to right the mug and pour herself another drink. For the most part she’d missed the mug and it was dripping when she put it to her lips once again.
Kathy wanted to know if she was having an affair with Elliot. The word affair implied a much longer involvement, and considerably more commitment, than one meaningless night. Affairs involved cards and flowers and dates and romance and sneaking around, which completely ruled out the activities between Olivia and Elliot, unless meeting for coffee at three in the morning twice a year counted. And she didn’t think Kathy needed to know that Olivia wished it were different. Lowering her drink, she shook her head. “Nope. No affair.”
Olivia expected to see some sort of triumph on the other woman’s face, the same sort she would have had trouble holding back if the situation had been different. But Kathy didn’t look happy. She didn’t even look convinced. But she dropped it. “I need you to tell him to come home.”
Olivia sipped at her drink, barely getting a taste of it down. She didn’t even want it, but it bought her a few seconds to think. “Wouldn’t listen if I tried.” She wasn’t sure if her words were intelligible at all, so she wasn’t going to waste time on pronouns. Besides, it was true. Elliot wasn’t the best person with advice, most certainly not when it was uninvited. Hell, he didn’t even want advice when he didn’t have a clue what to do as evidenced by their little talk in the diner. And if Olivia was going to try, she wasn’t going to give him the crappy advice Kathy wanted.
“He’ll listen to you. You’re his partner.” Kathy spat the final word as though it were some kind of insult.
Olivia chuckled at the thought. She wasn’t anybody’s partner anymore. She looked at the liquid in her mug and knew one more sip would be the end of her tolerance. She leaned her head back instead, squeezing her eyes closed when the room started to spin. The spinning intensified, so she slowly returned to the previous position. “I’m not feeling so good. You should probably go.”
Kathy slid sideways on the couch, moving closer to Olivia’s chair. “I’m sure you think you know what’s good for him, but I’m his wife. I know what he needs. He needs to come home.” She was using her mommy voice, the one that told her children in no uncertain terms that they were not going to a party where no adults would be present, that they were not adopting a dog, and that they were not going to get out of church on Sunday. It pissed Olivia off that she was getting it. She’d never had to endure condescension from her own mother; she sure as hell wasn’t about to abide it from Kathy Stabler.
Olivia met her eyes in a cold stare. “Maybe you don’t know him that well.” It was a gut reaction, an impulse born of years of training to protect her partner from harm, even if the harm was the wife and kids he mistakenly thought made him happy. That and the burning memory of his hands on her. He sure as shit hadn’t needed Kathy when he’d been touching her.
Kathy’s jaw dropped open, her eyes accusing, her mind undoubtedly returning to the question they’d only just settled. “I know what my husband wants better than you do, Olivia.”
Olivia wanted to explain how she knew better what Kathy’s husband wanted. She remembered the ferocity of that first kiss. She remembered the feel of him pressing against her on the street. She remembered his certainty when he’d suggested going home together. She remembered the way he said her name when he was buried deep inside of her. She remembered the look in his eyes when the rush overwhelmed him, when he’d emptied himself into her. Even if it had been purely sexual, Olivia still knew his desire had nothing to do with Kathy. In spite of the day’s disastrous start, Elliot’s response to her touch was real. And it was hers alone.
As if to further complicate the situation, Olivia’s phone, which was lying on the coffee table, began to ring. Olivia knew, absolutely knew, with the sixth sense that knew when a suspect was guilty, that Elliot was on the other end of the phone. She would have grappled with answering his call had she been alone. But she wasn’t alone. She was being confronted by his wife and she desperately wanted to pick up the phone and tell him as much. Except that Elliot had hurt her terribly that morning and she couldn’t deal with him, not even to tell him about Kathy, not even to threaten him that she would tell Kathy. Especially not since Elliot had obviously made it to work and discovered her ad hoc career change.
The phone continued to ring until voice mail mercifully silenced it. The silence didn’t last long enough for both pairs of eyes to leave it. Elliot never left her messages; he’d simply keep calling until Olivia answered the damn thing, in much the same way he would knock on her door. By the third call, it became clear that he was nothing if not consistent.
Kathy smirked. “That’s him, isn’t it?”
“It’s probably work.” Olivia saw no need to tell Kathy that she didn’t work anymore; god forbid that would lead to a question as to why that was, which Olivia might just answer in the hopes of getting rid of her.
Kathy nodded slowly as the ringing paused before restarting for the fourth time. “Since you’re not feeling well, would you like me to answer it?”
“I’m in no shape to catch a case. They’ll have to call someone else.”
“Maybe I should tell them as much.” Kathy leaned forward, boldly looking at the lit display on the phone.
Chapter Ten
Not even thinking, Olivia snatched the phone up, desperate to protect Elliot even though she was angry with him. She wasn’t so angry that she wanted to cause him trouble with his wife, which she retroactively realized she’d done anyway. Reading the unfamiliar number on the caller ID, she sighed. Kathy could have answered it; it wasn’t Elliot. “Benson.” It occurred to her as she spoke that she didn’t need to answer her phone like that anymore since she wasn’t a cop and no one calling her would expect her to identify herself, but she cut herself some slack since it would likely take a day or two to change a habit of so many years.
“Hey, beautiful.”
She couldn’t hide the groan at the voice of the one person she wanted to hear from less than she wanted to hear from Elliot at that moment. “Porter.”
“I was wondering if you were free tonight.”
She shook her head, forgetting until it was too late that her balance was significantly impaired. She clawed at one armrest and tried to figure out which way was down before she could answer. “No, I’m not free. This is a really bad time.” He was saying something as she hung up, but she didn’t care to know what it was. She dropped the phone into her lap with a victorious smile. “Wasn’t Elliot.”
Kathy looked annoyed. Any other woman would have been happy to be wrong. “You need to tell him to come home. He has a responsibility to me and this child.”
Olivia wanted to ask why it was Elliot’s responsibility and not her own. She doubted Elliot was solely to blame for the situation. And judging from the way Elliot had reacted when she’d suggested an abortion, it seemed that Elliot had already made up his mind to go back to her. Deciding to tempt fate and her tolerance, Olivia took another sip from her mug and had to fight to get it down her throat. When she’d talked to Elliot at the courthouse, he’d acted like he hadn’t thought there was even a choice to be made; he obviously thought going back was the only option. And there was his wife, demanding that Olivia try to guilt him into what Kathy wanted when he was already suckered into doing it.
Olivia took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the stomach she’d thoroughly pissed off with that last sip. “If you want him to move home, take it up with him.”
“I need your help.” Kathy rubbed her stomach, switching to the friendly approach suddenly. “We need your help.”
The motherly act didn’t help to settle Olivia’s stomach at all. Standing up, she pointed at the door as her forgotten phone tumbled onto the floor. “I’m not involved in this and I’m not getting involved.”
Kathy stood up too, narrowing her eyes and putting her hands on her hips. “Then he’s seeing someone else? Is that what you don’t want to tell me?”
“What?” The words didn’t process. Even though she had a specific case that proved otherwise, thoughts of Elliot and cheating still didn’t go together in her mind.
“He must be seeing someone. I assumed it was you after he said your name this morning.”
Olivia’s eyes widened the slightest bit. The conversation was moving too quickly and she couldn’t keep up. “Go home, Kathy.” The problem with conversations that moved too quickly was that Olivia tended to accidentally say incriminating things.
“He reeked of perfume this morning too. In fact,” Kathy picked up Olivia’s jacket which had been thrown over the back of the couch and held it to her nose. “He must be seeing someone who wears your perfume.”
Olivia’s cheeks burned, more in pain than anger. She didn’t want to be reminded. She didn’t want to think about it. It was the only way to keep the pain from getting in. She shook her head, not so much trying to protect Elliot anymore as she was trying to protect herself. “No. We were in the car all night. It must have rubbed off on him.”
Kathy dropped the coat and met Olivia’s eyes once again. “If he’s not seeing someone, then why won’t he come home?”
Olivia shrugged. Elliot hadn’t seemed like he didn’t want to go home when they’d spoken about it briefly. He’d only said they hadn’t picked a date yet. “If you tell him when you want him to move, I’m sure he’ll comply.” Because really, the man had abandoned a woman who would have been perfectly interested in continuing where they’d left off in order to drive his wife to the doctor. The thought alone upset Olivia’s stomach even more.
“We’ve had the whole thing planned for two weeks. He was coming home tomorrow. He told me he’d gotten rid of his furniture and had people coming by to see his apartment.”
Olivia’s stomach flipped violently and she put her hand to her mouth for fear she would be sick right then. She shook her head, unable to stop the tears that came out of nowhere. “No. That’s not true.”
Fury reflected in Kathy’s eyes again. “I had to bribe Kathleen to rearrange her plans to help him move. I think I would remember what day she was supposed to be helping him.”
Her stomach refused to be silent anymore. Hurrying to the bathroom drunk was not an easy task. She tripped several times, bruising various parts of her body along the way. She barely made it in time to empty her stomach. Thankfully, the activity kept her mind from processing Kathy’s words. As she gulped handfuls of water from the tap in the sink, the words rolled through her head. He’d lied to her. Lied. To her face. She never would have slept with him, regardless of her feelings, if she’d known the son of a bitch had solid plans in place to move back in with his wife. And some part of her wondered if he’d known that when he told her otherwise.
Not telling her was one thing; she was used to that. She would even admit that they had a terrible history of mutually leaving important details out. But not telling wasn’t the same as lying. She’d never believe that omission was equal to deliberately saying something inaccurate. He’d looked her in the eyes and lied. Olivia sat back, resting against the side of the bathtub. She didn’t have the energy to sob, but that didn’t stop the tears from flowing.
“Olivia?” Kathy’s timid voice came from the doorway of the bathroom, where she stood holding a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol. “I found these in the kitchen. They might help.” She stepped forward cautiously, squatting down to set the glass and the bottle on the blue carpet beside Olivia. “Do you need help getting up?”
Olivia looked at her rival, realizing for the first time that Kathy wasn’t to blame. Kathy had turned to her in desperation, looking for comfort and reassurance. It wasn’t her fault that Olivia was in love with her husband. It wasn’t her fault that her husband had cheated on her.
Olivia shook her head, her eyes welling up with tears for the other woman as well. “I think I better stay here for a while.”
Kathy nodded and stood, returning to the doorway. “I shouldn’t have accused you of-“ She paused, looking down at her hands. “I’m sorry.” And then she walked away.
As soon as she heard the front door close, Olivia started to wonder if she should have told Kathy the truth.
It took a long time for her to even formulate an idea of what to do next. Her initial plan of avoiding Elliot at all costs was proving to be easy enough; however, it didn’t provide much detail regarding what she should do with herself while she was avoiding him. By the time she’d decided on a course of action, the nausea had fortunately passed.
Painful as it would be to admit it, Olivia knew she could deal with it if Elliot had simply used her for sex. She wouldn’t like it and she certainly wouldn’t ever forgive him, but she could accept it. It didn’t seem like something he would do, but she’d witnessed him apparently doing so, which made it a bit more feasible. Besides that possibility, there was something else Olivia had to work through. Elliot had obviously lied. Either to her or to Kathy, but he’d told different stories to them and clearly one of them could not be true.
Using her body for his pleasure was bad enough. If he’d lied to her in order to do so, that was simply unforgivable. Beyond even the homicidal rage she expected she’d eventually feel about it, the idea that such a thing was even possible stunned and sickened her. She couldn’t believe it quite yet, so the anger and pain and real emotion couldn’t set in.
One thing was clear, even in her inebriated state: she had to know if he’d lied to her. And there was only one way to find out, since she couldn’t reasonably expect a liar to admit to having lied if that were the case. Loathe as she was to find out, she knew she had to.
It took all the strength she could muster to scrape herself off the floor. She almost changed her mind when she had to face the idea of getting dressed in something a little more appropriate. Unable to put much effort into it, she settled on the jeans and sweater she’d been wearing the previous night, since they were still lying in a messy heap on the floor by her bed. Rationalizing that it was easier than opening drawers, she tried to block out the memories of Elliot’s hands pulling the hem of the sweater of her head, his fingers deftly working the button of her jeans. The feelings that accompanied the memories overwhelmed her while she contemplated her bra. She couldn’t stop the image of Elliot sliding the straps down her arms while chasing them with his lips, nor could she ignore the vivid memory of his hands working the clasp, sliding the lacy fabric off of her completely while his hands and eyes and lips explored the newly revealed territory.
With a choked cry, bitten back by sheer pride, she threw the offending garment across the room. She couldn’t imagine ever putting it back on, let alone just then. She decided to forego a bra altogether and pulled her clothes on as quickly as her impaired coordination would allow her. Her eyes held tight to the hallway, refusing to see anything else, ignoring the bed that would bring back more memories she wasn’t emotionally equipped at the moment to deal with.
With a determination that strong-armed the hurt out of the way, she pulled on her jacket and the darkest sunglasses she owned to head outside. Her emotional collapse could wait; she resolved to find out the truth before she went back to her breakdown. She ignored the dread that built in her stomach with every step she took toward his apartment. The buzz of the alcohol was gone, leaving only a dehydrated fog in her mind. She stopped at a vendor to get some water, but she was only able to sip at it. Although empty, her stomach threatened retaliation at the attempt to put anything in it.
Her speed slowed incrementally; she was barely lifting her feet off the ground by the time she reached his block. Her eyes fell on the steps into Elliot’s building, bringing to mind the night they’d sat on those steps and made peace. It had only been a few months earlier when they’d been starting over; now, they were just over.
She allowed herself a moment to feel the pain of it. Then she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and entered the building without another thought. Climbing the steps to the second floor resolutely, she talked herself into possibly giving him another chance. If he hadn’t lied, if maybe he’d only made a colossal mistake that morning, if he felt bad for hurting her and wanted to apologize, she might be able to forgive him. Maybe. But first, she needed to know if he’d lied.
She knocked on his door, bracing herself for the unlikely possibility that he’d called off sick and was sitting inside. She prayed that wasn’t the case since she didn’t have any plans for that contingency, short of running for the stairs. Her knock echoed loudly, but he didn’t answer. She raised her hand and knocked again, a bit harder to negate any chance that he was inside and hadn’t heard.
She heard a door open and close downstairs and then a voice from the bottom of the staircase.
“You here to look at it?”
Her heart dropped as she peeked down at the gray-haired man below. “Yeah.”
“I’ll be right up.”
“Thanks.” She tried to smile, but it wouldn’t come out. Still, she tried to keep herself calm. Just because he’d listed the place didn’t mean he’d lied. Even if the plan to move home was only vague, he would need to get rid of his place eventually.
The super came up the stairs slowly, giving Olivia more time to study him than she needed. He was a short man, with a head full of curly gray hair. He favored his right leg as he limped along. Something about him, probably his easy smile and twinkling eyes, gave her the impression that he was younger than his haggard appearance initially led her to believe. Olivia guessed that he was only in his mid-fifties, despite his grandfatherly looks. Rather than being creepy, she found it cute when he winked at her. She wished she was really there to look for an apartment. There was something about him that made her comfortable. She’d have like to have him looking out for her in some way. She wanted someone like him in her life, someone she could run to in her current situation, someone who would give her a hug and offer her some stupid platitude about everything working out for the best.
“The guy who lives here is pretty quiet, not home much. The place is in great shape.” He swung the door open and motioned for Olivia to go ahead.
She made another attempt at a smile, but it died quickly as she glanced around. The couch sat against the living room wall. Elliot’s duffle bag sat on top of it, a few clothes spilling out of the unzipped top. His sneakers were sitting on the floor in front of the couch. But that was it. The rest of the room was empty.
Chapter Eleven
She had to work hard to swallow the lump in her throat. The super waited at the door while she walked through the living room, which served her well since he’d probably want to know why she was crying. Sick, twisted curiosity propelled her through the kitchen and hallway and bedroom. There was less in each room than had been in the living room, except for the sealed boxes filling the dining room. Her face twisted angrily into a scowl as she recalled his comment about when he was moving home.
“I don’t know my ass,” she grumbled at the wall. She was tempted to kick it as well, but she knew that would wind up hurting her more than it would Elliot. It seemed that everything wound up hurting her more than it did Elliot. Probably because, beyond work, Elliot didn’t really give two shits about her.
She put a hand to her mouth as if to hold back the sobs physically. Of course he hadn’t lied to his wife. She was his wife. He’d made it clear that his family was his whole life. Silly her. She’d thought his job figured in there somewhere. She knew that it didn’t, not really. His job was a means to an end, a way to make a living for his family, for his kids, for his wife. He worked in order to provide for them. Olivia was just a part of the job, something that came with the territory.
“Miss? Are you all right?” The super had noticed her absence and found her leaning against the empty bedroom wall.
She shook her head. No, she wasn’t all right. Sniffling, and embarrassed to be doing so in front of a stranger, she opened her mouth and said words that were intended to be an excuse, but wound up being more accurate than she’d realized. “I just lost someone very close to me.”
He stepped closer, patting her shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that. If it’ll help, I’ll knock fifty bucks off the rent.”
She couldn’t stifle the giggle that suddenly erupted. Fifty bucks wasn’t going to do a damn thing for her, but she didn’t want to ruin the poor guy’s day. “I’ll have to get back to you.”
“I’m Joe. Just give me a call if you have any questions.” Joe handed her a card with his name and number.
She accepted it as gracefully as she could knowing that she was never going to see him again. “Thanks, Joe.” She forced a smile and led the way to the door. “I should be going.”
Not that she had anywhere to go. She knew Elliot was going to look for her, if for no other reason than to yell at her for allowing him to be blindsided by her resignation. He always expected her to warn him when she was so pissed off at him that she was going to do something irrational. Someday he would figure out that would defeat the purpose.
Olivia needed to find somewhere to hide out. Her apartment was dangerous for several reasons - the memories of the previous night, the knowledge that Elliot would look there first, the fact that being utterly alone seemed suddenly like a bad idea. There was no doubt in her mind that Elliot was going to try her place at least once. In fact, the odds were that he’d sit in the hallway or on the stairs and wait for her since he wouldn’t have anywhere else to look for her. It struck her as odd that he hadn’t called yet, since he must have gotten the news from Cragen by then.
She felt her pockets for her phone, realizing that she must have left it at home when she came up empty. Although the memory was hazy due to having been five or so sheets to the wind at the time, she vaguely recalled speaking to Porter and Porter’s ridiculous number of phone calls. She was certain that he hadn’t actually tried that many times, that timing and fate had smiled on her when she answered the phone. She was sure that Elliot had been the one calling her continuously and it could only be attributed to blind luck that the one time she picked up it was Porter and not Elliot on the other end of the phone.
Forcing her thoughts from him, she contemplated being unreachable for the first time in many, many years. It had been over a decade since she’d been free of some device - pager, phone, radio - that kept her in contact with the world and the NYPD. She would have expected a feeling of freedom, not knowing if someone wanted to talk to her, if someone needed her to put herself aside and help them. But she didn’t. She felt alone and neurotic, like she was going to need someone’s help and not have any means to reach them.
Telling herself it was a good thing she didn’t know that Elliot was, or wasn’t, trying to reach her, she found herself ducking into a coffee shop. She hadn’t had coffee in months, but her reasons for swearing off the substance seemed stupid in light of her world falling apart. She ordered herself the largest size they had, selected a huge muffin she would have split with Elliot under any other circumstances, and picked a magazine off the rack. She didn’t really care what was going on in the world of personal finance, but she needed some cover for the fact that she had every intention of hanging out until they kicked her out. There was one empty table, a tiny one that was only empty because it wasn’t large enough to hold a laptop, and she claimed it, sliding carefully between two business men at the adjacent tables.
One of them was a young man in his early twenties frantically typing, talking on his phone, and generally making a caricature of himself. He was trying to impress his first boss, or maybe, showing off how terribly important he was, even though he was spending his day among other people who were so important that they too didn’t need to appear in their offices. Olivia tried to ignore him as she sized up the other man. He was far more relaxed, spending a good portion of his workday surfing the internet while he mindlessly participated in a phone call. She’d only intended to people-watch, but she found herself making eye contact with him. He smiled slightly and she immediately turned to her magazine, pretending to be engrossed in an article about mutual funds.
Any other day, she would have found a way to strike up a conversation. He was attractive, not wearing a wedding ring, and occasionally looking in her direction. But having so recently realized that her best hope for finding a man who wasn’t an ass was a complete failure, she ignored him too.
By mid-afternoon, she’d burned through three more cups of coffee, leaving her shaking slightly from the caffeine, and four magazines, including the sport fishing one she’d accidentally picked up on her last trip to the counter. The hyper, overly important man had long since been replaced by a pair of girls working on some sort of school assignment. The quiet guy, however, was still there, trying his best to get her attention.
She was desperately bored and wanted to leave, but she was still afraid of her apartment. She’d sworn off the place earlier in the day for fear Elliot would skip out on work to look for her. A few hours of perspective told her that it wouldn’t really be Elliot’s style to play hooky just to talk to her, but as the day wore on, the odds were better that he was done work for the day and would be spending his evening trying to locate her. She wasn’t quite to the point where she’d decided to call Joe and take Elliot’s old apartment because he’d certainly never think to look for her there, but it had occurred to her more than once. She decided to hold it in reserve.
Just as the quiet guy was starting to pack up, she couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted to call Casey and see if she could find a way to invite herself over for a girls’ night or something. The odds were slim that Elliot would ever think to try Casey’s apartment. Unfortunately, without her phone, she had no means of reaching her friend. And she was absolutely not going by Casey’s office or the courthouse because the chance of running into someone else was just too great.
Leaning over, she smiled at the man who’d been trying to get her attention all day. “Can I borrow your phone?”
He seemed surprised by her question, apparently expecting another one. He handed it over, trying to figure out her approach. “Are you going to put your number in there?”
She smiled at him as she dialed Casey’s number. “Maybe.” Luckily, Casey was more than willing to meet up for drinks and even suggested a place. “I’ll meet you there in an hour.” She hung up and handed the phone back to her curious friend. She felt kind of bad that he would spend an hour trying to find the number she hadn’t given him, but not bad enough that she changed her mind.
She made it to the bar long before Casey, since she had no other place to go in the intervening hour. Olivia had already had her fill of alcohol for the day, but she started working on a beer. She had no intention of telling Casey what had happened and, by not drinking when she’d been the one to suggest drinks, she would surely cue Casey in that something was very, very wrong.
It was hot in the bar, but there was noise and a crowd and no Elliot and therefore it was infinitely more inviting than her apartment. As she swallowed the last sip of her beer, she grimaced at the lukewarm liquid.
A new beer appeared in front of her and she smiled gratefully. Casey slid into the seat across from her. “Starting without me?”
Olivia smiled. “You’re late.” She took a sip of the fresh beer and studying her friend’s tired face. “So, bad day?”
Casey took a long swallow of her beer and nodded at Olivia. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“Why?” The paranoia came naturally, but as soon as she spoke, she realized that she normally did a better job of hiding it. She followed Casey’s eyes down to her rumpled sweater before pulling her jacket shut.
“Besides the fact that you were wearing that sweater yesterday?”
“I happen to like this sweater.” Squeezing her eyes closed at her own stupidity, Olivia swore she was going to think up better comebacks in the future.
Laughing, Casey shrugged at her. “And I like my fuzzy bunny bedroom slippers.”
Olivia was thankful for the light moment and giggled. “I can’t see you in bunny slippers.”
“Because I never wear them to work.” Casey’s face held the expression Olivia recognized from the courthouse. It was the way she looked at defendants when she’d successfully gotten them to slip up or at witnesses when she’d made them admit to lying. It was her ‘so there’ face.
Olivia didn’t like that it was aimed at her. “Then maybe you should. People might let down their guard.”
Casey laughed, a truly happy sound that seemed foreign to Olivia. “I’ll suggest a ‘Wear Your Pajamas to Work’ day. I’m sure the DA will love it.”
And then Olivia felt herself laughing along and realized laughter itself didn’t mean happiness. “Who knows? You might start a trend. We could have sleepovers and bonfires too.”
Casey grinned and nodded toward the bar. “Conveniently, there’s a guy over there who apparently has some interesting thing with marshmallows and chocolate syrup he’d like to show us. We could invite him to make s’mores.”
The mention of a man, particularly one that was trying to get lucky instantly soured Olivia’s mood. “That’s all well and good, but I’ve recently decided that men suck. I’m done with them.” She hadn’t meant to say anything, but it felt good to get something off her chest.
“All of them?” Casey looked intrigued and Olivia remembered that telling part of a story to a lawyer often ended up in unwillingly revealing the whole story.
Olivia shrugged, wanting to backpedal. She really didn’t want to discuss it; she just didn’t want to be alone. “Only the ones I’ve met, which means that guy at the bar might have potential. I hope you got his number.”
“So you want to drink, not talk. Got it.” Casey didn’t push, which surprised Olivia. They didn’t spend much time together outside of work, probably because their jobs left them angry and frustrated with each other a lot of the time. Olivia imagined she and Casey might have been good friends otherwise. Casey was no more likely than herself to talk needlessly or to demand explanations, even if she was obviously curious.
Deciding she owed the woman something for putting up with her, Olivia nodded at the beer in her hand. “Thanks for getting this round. I’ll get the next one.” She saw no need to tell Casey that she didn’t really want to drink either. Casey would probably be offended to discover that she was only a body, meant to distract Olivia from a hole in her life. And when she thought about it, she felt bad, since she herself had been used in much the same way the night before.
“No problem. Just promise me that you don’t have the flu.”
“What?”
Casey tried to hide a smile behind her beer bottle. “Yeah, I didn’t think you knew anything about it when you called me. Munch said you were in this morning, looked like shit and left all of a sudden.” Casey looked at her carefully. “And while I agree with the ‘look like shit’ assessment, you don’t necessarily look sick.”
Olivia cursed under her breath. She hadn’t given any thought to what rumors might spread about her absence, but she’d assumed Cragen would have to tell someone where she was - although she’d have expected him to tell the truth rather than make up something strange. And of course Casey wasn’t going to drop what was clearly a cover story. It was too much to ask. “No, I don’t have the flu.”
Casey seemed pleased with the lack of argument. “Which means that Elliot probably didn’t go home sick with the flu either, since you clearly didn’t give it to him.”
Olivia felt her blood boil, followed by the telltale burning of her cheeks as a blush spread across them. She could barely choke out words. “Exactly how would I have given him the flu?”
She couldn’t believe she’d been that obvious. In fact, since she’d been at work for only a few minutes, including the time it took for her to hand over her badge and gun and take the elevator back to the street, she was certain she hadn’t given anything away. Elliot must have said something. She wished he were there so she could ask him what the hell he’d been thinking.
Chapter Twelve
One of Casey’s eyebrows rose, revealing that while she’d been moderately interested before, she was quite thoroughly interested then. “Last time Fin had a cold, we shared a thirty second elevator ride and I was out of work for almost a week.”
Her cheeks burned more when she realized that she’d only managed to draw even more attention to herself and her situation. She tried to cover, shrugging noncommittally. “I lost my phone. I didn’t even know Elliot wasn’t at work today.”
Casey’s eyes narrowed, studying Olivia’s face carefully. “Ok, so what’s the deal then?”
“What makes you think there’s a deal?” Olivia lifted her beer to her lips, taking a long sip. She really wanted the water she’d thrown out earlier. She’d never tried getting drunk twice in one day before, but she doubted it would end well.
Casey shrugged back at her, taking a sip of her beer before looking away. “Because you don’t call me a lot to hang out.”
She couldn’t blame Casey for the irritation, but she had to feign anger to keep from seeming out of sorts. “And now I remember why.”
The redhead’s attention was focused somewhere behind Olivia, but her mind stayed on the conversation. “Do you want to tell me why you’re trying to avoid your partner?” Her eyes suddenly shifted back to Olivia.
She couldn’t hide her shock. She really wanted to know what rumors he’d started. It had to be pretty juicy to have gotten all the way to Casey so quickly, especially since he hadn’t been at work either. “What makes you think that?”
Casey leaned forward on her elbows, pushing her beer to the side. “Because as rare as it is for you to invite me out for drinks, it’s even less often that Elliot comes to my office to ask if I’ve talked to you.”
Olivia squeezed her eyes closed, quite happy that she had stayed away from her apartment. If Elliot was stooping to checking with Casey, he was grasping at straws - likely after he’d pounded at her door for several hours. She would have given in and opened it out of annoyance. Turning her eyes on her beer, she sighed. “He’s just mad I didn’t tell him I was quitting.” She glanced up to gauge Casey’s response.
And then it was Casey’s turn to be surprised. She looked stunned as the idea worked its way through her mind. “He didn’t mention that.” She studied Olivia’s face once again. “Are you going to tell me why you quit?”
She didn’t want to. She really didn’t want to. But she remembered that, having quit, she no longer worked with Casey and therefore no longer needed to protect her reputation. If she continued to talk to Casey, it would be as friends, not as coworkers. She swallowed hard, wondering what it would be like to say the words aloud. She hoped it would help mitigate the pain by sharing it with someone. She thought maybe Casey could be that person to assure her everything would be ok after all. She folded her arms across the table in front of her and met Casey’s eyes.
“I slept with him.”
Casey nearly dropped the bottle right out of her hands. “No.” She set the beer back on the table and leaned forward, as though the two were going to be sharing secrets in a hushed whisper. “Damn it, I wish you’d told me.”
Olivia was irritated because that wasn’t the supportive reaction she’d expected. “I just did. I guess I could have called you earlier, but I was busy having a little chat with his wife this morning.”
Casey’s eyes widened further, causing Olivia to wonder if they might just roll out of her head. “Are you serious? Does she know?”
There was something in her tone, something that made her sound like she was more interested in the gossip value than in being a friend. It brought tears to Olivia’s eyes and she hated herself for it. She didn’t want to break down in front of anyone, not again. It was the third time that day she’d done so. But Casey was there, listening, and that was exactly what Olivia needed. She wiped at her eyes, doing little to stem the flow of tears. “You know, he jumped up out of bed this morning because he was late to meet Kathy. What kind of an asshole does that?”
Casey shook her head, mumbling something to herself. “He didn’t mention that when he came looking for you either.” She reached out and rested her hand on Olivia’s arm. “I’m really sorry, Liv.”
“I guess he didn’t figure you’d help him out if he admitted that he was an asshole.”
Casey smiled. “Well, except that’s a given because he’s a man.”
Olivia couldn’t help but smile. “Remind me of that before I do something stupid.”
Casey’s eyes shifted over Olivia’s shoulder once again, the color draining from her face as she did so. “Before you start thinking that I’m an asshole too, I need to remind you that I didn’t know anything about what happened until a moment ago.”
Olivia, still wrapped up in having spilled her secret to someone who appeared uninterested, stared at her friend, not quite understanding. “What?”
Her eyes closed as she spoke, a grimace taking over her face. “Elliot came by to ask if I’d talked to you right after you called me.” She peeked at Olivia and then back over Olivia’s shoulder. “I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to tell him.”
She would have cried out in horror, except that all the air rushed out of her lungs. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. She caught Casey’s eyes, seeing the guilty look on her face, before she turned around to see for herself.
And there he was. Leaning on the bar, staring at them, holding a beer in his hand, cocky as ever.
Olivia turned back to Casey, her face white as a sheet. “I can’t talk to him.” She shook her head, not even caring if Casey had anything to say. “I can’t look at him.”
“I don’t think you’re going to get out of here without talking to him.” Casey bit her lip and looked like she very much wanted to be somewhere else.
“Tell him I’m sick. I’ll go out the back door.”
“That’s not going to work.” Casey shook her head. “He looks like shit, Liv. Worse than you even. Maybe you should just talk to him.”
“And say what? I’m sorry you used me? I’m sorry I distracted you from your pregnant wife? Oh, wait, no, it was his idea so I don’t really think I should be the one apologizing.” Olivia looked around the table, really, really desperate for something to throw.
“Liv, maybe you should let him do the talking. Maybe he’s here to say he’s sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t going to fix this, Casey.”
There was silence as the two squared off. Eventually, Casey nodded. “I’ll go tell him you don’t want to talk to him if that’s what you want. I can’t guarantee that he’s going to listen.” She glanced in his direction once again and then back at Olivia. “He probably figured that out at some point while he was looking for you and he doesn’t seem deterred.”
Olivia shrugged. “What difference does it make? It’s the last time we’re going to see each other, so I might as well get it over with, right?” She poured the rest of her beer down her throat. If she timed it right, she could get violently ill right when he walked over. That might show him.
Casey nodded. “Are you sure?”
She wasn’t at all sure, but it was better than avoiding her apartment for the rest of her life. “Ask the bartender to send over another beer on your way out, ok?” Perhaps, she thought, her initial decision to drown her sorrows was the best idea. But another thought struck her and she grabbed Casey’s wrist as the other woman stood up. “You don’t think he expects me to go home with him again tonight, do you?”
Casey shook her head emphatically, sitting back down in her seat. “Honestly, I doubt either one of you are up to that tonight.” She tried to smile supportively. “I don’t know Elliot like you do, Liv, but he’s never struck me as a jerk, you know? I always thought he was one of the good ones.”
Olivia reluctantly released Casey’s arm as she stood once again. “So did I.”
Casey looked at her from the end of the table with concern reflecting in her eyes. “I’m really sorry, Liv.”
Looking up at her friend, Olivia nodded. She knew Casey hadn’t meant any harm. “Can you do me a favor?”
Casey’s eyes lit up, eager for any chance at redemption. “Anything.”
“Hang out, keep an eye on me, don’t let me do something stupid?” As hurt and angry as she was at Elliot, she knew the potent combination of her closest friend and alcohol could possibly have worse consequences than the innocent cup of coffee from the night before. She didn’t want to say it, she didn’t even want to admit it, but there was a very real chance that a few more beers mixed with the intense way Elliot stared at her when he was angry would allow her to rationalize taking him home again. Or worse, she might blurt out how much she loved him and have to face his rejection again.
Casey nodded. “I’ll be over there talking to my friend with the chocolate syrup.”
Olivia tried to find humor in the joke. “I might join you later.”
Casey nodded, once at Olivia, once at Elliot, who was obviously waiting for some sort of sign. “Good luck.”
And then she was gone.
She distracted herself from the terror of having to talk to Elliot by working the buttons of her jacket. Casey had recognized her sweater, and judging from the level of contact Elliot had with it, he would as well. Olivia saw no reason to let him know more than necessary. He didn’t need to know that his betrayal had hurt her so badly that she couldn’t even be bothered to find clean clothes.
A fresh beer appeared in her line of sight, much as it had with Casey; however she wasn’t nearly as pleased with her new companion. He slid into the seat across from her, his eyes glued to his beer. Olivia took a deep breath and forced herself to look at him. Casey had been dead on when she said he looked bad. And he wasn’t wearing anything on top of his suit coat, leaving it obvious to anyone who looked that he had worn the same clothes two days in a row. Olivia felt marginally better to see how awful he looked.
But as his eyes lifted towards hers, she ducked down. She didn’t want to meet his eyes. She’d always felt a connection with him when she looked him in the eye; it was the only way he couldn’t hide from her. She was afraid of what she’d see there - if he’d be in pain because he’d hurt her or if his only concern was that her sudden career change might force him to answer some tough questions at work.
And there was the simple, scary fact that he’d been able to read her from the first moment they met. She didn’t want to let him see how terribly he’d broken her. The beer in front of her seemed to be calling to her. She wanted it, wanted to numb the ache just a little bit, wanted to concentrate on something somatic, like a queasy stomach, rather than the emotional pain. But her hands didn’t move and the beer remained out of her grasp.
Elliot stared silently; she could feel his gaze burning into her head, but still she refused to look at him. Instead she tried out telekinesis to get her beer into her hand. When that failed, she gave in and reached for it, tilting back the bottle and chugging half of it.
“Are you drunk?”
It wasn’t the question she’d been expecting. Then again, she wasn’t really expecting him to beg for forgiveness, although she certainly would have welcomed it.
She was on her way back to drunk, but she wasn’t there yet. “No.” She had briefly considered lying, giving her an excuse for any strange behavior. But the fact was that she would never be able to convince her partner she was intoxicated when she wasn’t. Needing to be reassured, she turned to check for Casey’s presence over her shoulder, calmed considerably when she spied her friend watching them from the bar.
“You smell drunk.”
She would have laughed if she’d been in a better mood. “You should have smelled me earlier.” Her eyes darted up accidentally, as though the habit of looking him in the eye was too ingrained to deny.
His eyes were narrowed and his face guarded. He was afraid of her; she knew that, even though she didn’t know why. He was the one who’d hurt her so badly. It made her feel good. No, it made her feel better. Very little was going to make her feel good.
Chapter Nine
She took another sip to drown out the thought. As long as she’d known Elliot, she and Kathy had existed in parallel worlds with Elliot being the only point of intersection. Elliot had always been the man who didn’t take his work home and didn’t bring his personal life to the office. Elliot had always kept Olivia and Kathy in different realms, which could have been insight into the fact that they were so different they would never get along or it might have simply been that he didn’t want them ganging up on him. It wasn’t like Olivia could ever ask him about it, not since she generally liked to pretend that Kathy didn’t exist.
Olivia propped her elbow up on the armrest and yawned. Considering that she’d realized she was in love, slept with her partner, quit her job, and drunk herself stupid in just over twelve hours, Olivia wasn’t sure it would be rude to ask Kathy to leave. She wasn’t sure she wouldn’t fall asleep right where she was and leave Kathy sitting there alone.
“I need Elliot to come home.”
Her words confused Olivia. Elliot wasn’t much for confiding in her. Elliot liked to keep things to himself until they were completely out of hand, so in retrospect, she thought it was surprising he’d even told her about the pregnancy. Not that his pregnant estranged wife wasn’t out of hand. Of course, the fact that she was pregnant meant that she wasn’t really all that estranged, but that pissed her off and she didn’t want to think about it.
She glanced at Kathy and realized the other woman was waiting for some kind of response. Kathy expected whole-hearted agreement, a statement that her husband absolutely needed to go home and raise a second generation of children with her, to let himself get hurt by her again. But she couldn’t make anything come out. She remained quiet.
Kathy’s eyes widened when she noticed the silence had stretched beyond the possibility that Olivia was searching for the right words. It was obvious that the silence meant something, and she suspected she knew exactly what. Her voice was soft and controlled, yet laced with tension and anger. Olivia pitied Elliot for having had to hear it untold numbers of times over the years. But she was irritated with him over it too, because he’d never let her use that tone with him. “Is there something you want to tell me about my husband?”
Olivia weighed her options. There was always the truth, but the pain in admitting what had happened, that regardless of the connection she’d thought they found, he’d gone back to Kathy after all, was too much. Olivia felt tears threatening and took a sip to ward them off. She could always tell Kathy how Elliot had suffered when she left him, how he’d been hurt terribly by their separation, but that he’d survived. Kathy had never realized that Elliot had gotten through it, fought his way clear of the pain of losing his family, and had been fine without her.
She understood finally where her deep resentment of Kathy had started. She’d seen how stressed and upset the strain of his marriage had made Elliot over the years. She’d seen the guilt and self-loathing he’d felt over not being able to be there for his family like normal husbands and fathers. She knew that Kathy had done little to comfort him, that she’d tried to use his sense of responsibility to make him into the man she wanted rather than loving the man he was. And most of all, she’d seen Elliot in those precious months after he’d signed the divorce papers, after he’d let go of the albatross that had been choking him for years. He’d been the same man she’d always known, but somehow better. Olivia had liked unattached Elliot. She enjoyed his easy-going manner and quick jokes and flirtatious smiles, even when they were fighting. Life with him was easier and, Olivia suspected, life for him was easier too, even if he didn’t know it.
And there was Kathy, holding the rope and asking Olivia to help her tie it tight around his throat once again.
“Look, Kathy, I don’t think this is something I should be involved with.” It was as close to telling her she was wrong as Olivia dared to get. Unfortunately, Olivia suspected some of the meaning was lost on the fact that she was slurring so badly she barely recognized the words she was saying.
Olivia watched as Kathy’s jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. She didn’t like what was coming; she knew it before the other woman opened her mouth. But the words were worse than she expected.
“Are you having an affair with my husband?”
Olivia’s mouth fell open. Well, now, that was an interesting question. Her gut reaction was to deny it, to say it was absolutely untrue. She’d heard the accusation, the suggestion, countless times over the years. It was a common mistake for people to make when they saw Olivia and Elliot together, provided they weren’t flashing their badges, especially when they were squabbling over stupid things while Elliot picked food off her plate. She’d deflected the statement a million times without so much as a thought. No, they were friends. Partners. Acquaintances. Coworkers. Anything. Just not a couple.
But it was different coming from Kathy. She could have blamed it on the alcohol, which would have been a perfectly rational explanation for her paranoia. She could have blamed it on the fact that she had slept with the woman’s husband only a few hours earlier, which also would have been a sufficient cause for her to feel like the world was out to get her.
Neither of them was the reason though. It wasn’t some random stranger confusing a man and a woman walking together as lovers. It wasn’t a ridiculing coworker accusing them of bickering like a married couple.
No, it was his wife. And she was making the suggestion that something could be going on between them. Something that seemed so preposterous when said by a stranger as to usually cause her to laugh seemed terribly possible coming from Kathy.
Which made Elliot’s actions that much more painful. Realizing that she was in love with him made a relationship between them sound reasonable to Olivia. Hearing that Kathy feared that very thing made a relationship between them sound perfectly plausible. But that morning, when he’d asked her if she expected him to leave Kathy for her, his tone and delivery gave Olivia the impression that he thought such a thing was completely out of the sphere of rational thought. And he’d made Olivia feel like a fool for thinking there was even a remote chance of it ever happening.
Olivia had been used for sex before. She figured that by her age most women had had the unpleasant experience of knowing the man that seemed so perfect the night before wasn’t ever going to call again. But she’d never been used that way by someone she knew so well, by someone she truly believed was above acting so selfishly, by someone she loved.
Of course, it was only fair to qualify the truth by acknowledging that, with the standard exception of a few teenage crushes, she’d never actually been in love with anyone before, making it thus impossible for her to be used by him. Not that it took the pain away. That was the vodka’s job. And the vodka was about to be fired for failing entirely to carry out its responsibilities.
Setting the mug down on the coffee table, Olivia noticed her unwelcome guest was staring at her. The irritated expression on her face reminded Olivia that Kathy expected an answer. Unfortunately, Olivia couldn’t remember the question.
“Huh?”
Kathy’s face reddened, revealing her fury. “Are you having an affair with Elliot?”
Olivia closed her eyes, decided the vodka was not to blame for not working after all, and reached out for it. In her drunken state, and with her eyes closed, her coordination was somewhat lacking. She knocked the mug onto its side, spilling what was left on the pile of magazines. It took all the concentration she could muster to right the mug and pour herself another drink. For the most part she’d missed the mug and it was dripping when she put it to her lips once again.
Kathy wanted to know if she was having an affair with Elliot. The word affair implied a much longer involvement, and considerably more commitment, than one meaningless night. Affairs involved cards and flowers and dates and romance and sneaking around, which completely ruled out the activities between Olivia and Elliot, unless meeting for coffee at three in the morning twice a year counted. And she didn’t think Kathy needed to know that Olivia wished it were different. Lowering her drink, she shook her head. “Nope. No affair.”
Olivia expected to see some sort of triumph on the other woman’s face, the same sort she would have had trouble holding back if the situation had been different. But Kathy didn’t look happy. She didn’t even look convinced. But she dropped it. “I need you to tell him to come home.”
Olivia sipped at her drink, barely getting a taste of it down. She didn’t even want it, but it bought her a few seconds to think. “Wouldn’t listen if I tried.” She wasn’t sure if her words were intelligible at all, so she wasn’t going to waste time on pronouns. Besides, it was true. Elliot wasn’t the best person with advice, most certainly not when it was uninvited. Hell, he didn’t even want advice when he didn’t have a clue what to do as evidenced by their little talk in the diner. And if Olivia was going to try, she wasn’t going to give him the crappy advice Kathy wanted.
“He’ll listen to you. You’re his partner.” Kathy spat the final word as though it were some kind of insult.
Olivia chuckled at the thought. She wasn’t anybody’s partner anymore. She looked at the liquid in her mug and knew one more sip would be the end of her tolerance. She leaned her head back instead, squeezing her eyes closed when the room started to spin. The spinning intensified, so she slowly returned to the previous position. “I’m not feeling so good. You should probably go.”
Kathy slid sideways on the couch, moving closer to Olivia’s chair. “I’m sure you think you know what’s good for him, but I’m his wife. I know what he needs. He needs to come home.” She was using her mommy voice, the one that told her children in no uncertain terms that they were not going to a party where no adults would be present, that they were not adopting a dog, and that they were not going to get out of church on Sunday. It pissed Olivia off that she was getting it. She’d never had to endure condescension from her own mother; she sure as hell wasn’t about to abide it from Kathy Stabler.
Olivia met her eyes in a cold stare. “Maybe you don’t know him that well.” It was a gut reaction, an impulse born of years of training to protect her partner from harm, even if the harm was the wife and kids he mistakenly thought made him happy. That and the burning memory of his hands on her. He sure as shit hadn’t needed Kathy when he’d been touching her.
Kathy’s jaw dropped open, her eyes accusing, her mind undoubtedly returning to the question they’d only just settled. “I know what my husband wants better than you do, Olivia.”
Olivia wanted to explain how she knew better what Kathy’s husband wanted. She remembered the ferocity of that first kiss. She remembered the feel of him pressing against her on the street. She remembered his certainty when he’d suggested going home together. She remembered the way he said her name when he was buried deep inside of her. She remembered the look in his eyes when the rush overwhelmed him, when he’d emptied himself into her. Even if it had been purely sexual, Olivia still knew his desire had nothing to do with Kathy. In spite of the day’s disastrous start, Elliot’s response to her touch was real. And it was hers alone.
As if to further complicate the situation, Olivia’s phone, which was lying on the coffee table, began to ring. Olivia knew, absolutely knew, with the sixth sense that knew when a suspect was guilty, that Elliot was on the other end of the phone. She would have grappled with answering his call had she been alone. But she wasn’t alone. She was being confronted by his wife and she desperately wanted to pick up the phone and tell him as much. Except that Elliot had hurt her terribly that morning and she couldn’t deal with him, not even to tell him about Kathy, not even to threaten him that she would tell Kathy. Especially not since Elliot had obviously made it to work and discovered her ad hoc career change.
The phone continued to ring until voice mail mercifully silenced it. The silence didn’t last long enough for both pairs of eyes to leave it. Elliot never left her messages; he’d simply keep calling until Olivia answered the damn thing, in much the same way he would knock on her door. By the third call, it became clear that he was nothing if not consistent.
Kathy smirked. “That’s him, isn’t it?”
“It’s probably work.” Olivia saw no need to tell Kathy that she didn’t work anymore; god forbid that would lead to a question as to why that was, which Olivia might just answer in the hopes of getting rid of her.
Kathy nodded slowly as the ringing paused before restarting for the fourth time. “Since you’re not feeling well, would you like me to answer it?”
“I’m in no shape to catch a case. They’ll have to call someone else.”
“Maybe I should tell them as much.” Kathy leaned forward, boldly looking at the lit display on the phone.
Chapter Ten
Not even thinking, Olivia snatched the phone up, desperate to protect Elliot even though she was angry with him. She wasn’t so angry that she wanted to cause him trouble with his wife, which she retroactively realized she’d done anyway. Reading the unfamiliar number on the caller ID, she sighed. Kathy could have answered it; it wasn’t Elliot. “Benson.” It occurred to her as she spoke that she didn’t need to answer her phone like that anymore since she wasn’t a cop and no one calling her would expect her to identify herself, but she cut herself some slack since it would likely take a day or two to change a habit of so many years.
“Hey, beautiful.”
She couldn’t hide the groan at the voice of the one person she wanted to hear from less than she wanted to hear from Elliot at that moment. “Porter.”
“I was wondering if you were free tonight.”
She shook her head, forgetting until it was too late that her balance was significantly impaired. She clawed at one armrest and tried to figure out which way was down before she could answer. “No, I’m not free. This is a really bad time.” He was saying something as she hung up, but she didn’t care to know what it was. She dropped the phone into her lap with a victorious smile. “Wasn’t Elliot.”
Kathy looked annoyed. Any other woman would have been happy to be wrong. “You need to tell him to come home. He has a responsibility to me and this child.”
Olivia wanted to ask why it was Elliot’s responsibility and not her own. She doubted Elliot was solely to blame for the situation. And judging from the way Elliot had reacted when she’d suggested an abortion, it seemed that Elliot had already made up his mind to go back to her. Deciding to tempt fate and her tolerance, Olivia took another sip from her mug and had to fight to get it down her throat. When she’d talked to Elliot at the courthouse, he’d acted like he hadn’t thought there was even a choice to be made; he obviously thought going back was the only option. And there was his wife, demanding that Olivia try to guilt him into what Kathy wanted when he was already suckered into doing it.
Olivia took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the stomach she’d thoroughly pissed off with that last sip. “If you want him to move home, take it up with him.”
“I need your help.” Kathy rubbed her stomach, switching to the friendly approach suddenly. “We need your help.”
The motherly act didn’t help to settle Olivia’s stomach at all. Standing up, she pointed at the door as her forgotten phone tumbled onto the floor. “I’m not involved in this and I’m not getting involved.”
Kathy stood up too, narrowing her eyes and putting her hands on her hips. “Then he’s seeing someone else? Is that what you don’t want to tell me?”
“What?” The words didn’t process. Even though she had a specific case that proved otherwise, thoughts of Elliot and cheating still didn’t go together in her mind.
“He must be seeing someone. I assumed it was you after he said your name this morning.”
Olivia’s eyes widened the slightest bit. The conversation was moving too quickly and she couldn’t keep up. “Go home, Kathy.” The problem with conversations that moved too quickly was that Olivia tended to accidentally say incriminating things.
“He reeked of perfume this morning too. In fact,” Kathy picked up Olivia’s jacket which had been thrown over the back of the couch and held it to her nose. “He must be seeing someone who wears your perfume.”
Olivia’s cheeks burned, more in pain than anger. She didn’t want to be reminded. She didn’t want to think about it. It was the only way to keep the pain from getting in. She shook her head, not so much trying to protect Elliot anymore as she was trying to protect herself. “No. We were in the car all night. It must have rubbed off on him.”
Kathy dropped the coat and met Olivia’s eyes once again. “If he’s not seeing someone, then why won’t he come home?”
Olivia shrugged. Elliot hadn’t seemed like he didn’t want to go home when they’d spoken about it briefly. He’d only said they hadn’t picked a date yet. “If you tell him when you want him to move, I’m sure he’ll comply.” Because really, the man had abandoned a woman who would have been perfectly interested in continuing where they’d left off in order to drive his wife to the doctor. The thought alone upset Olivia’s stomach even more.
“We’ve had the whole thing planned for two weeks. He was coming home tomorrow. He told me he’d gotten rid of his furniture and had people coming by to see his apartment.”
Olivia’s stomach flipped violently and she put her hand to her mouth for fear she would be sick right then. She shook her head, unable to stop the tears that came out of nowhere. “No. That’s not true.”
Fury reflected in Kathy’s eyes again. “I had to bribe Kathleen to rearrange her plans to help him move. I think I would remember what day she was supposed to be helping him.”
Her stomach refused to be silent anymore. Hurrying to the bathroom drunk was not an easy task. She tripped several times, bruising various parts of her body along the way. She barely made it in time to empty her stomach. Thankfully, the activity kept her mind from processing Kathy’s words. As she gulped handfuls of water from the tap in the sink, the words rolled through her head. He’d lied to her. Lied. To her face. She never would have slept with him, regardless of her feelings, if she’d known the son of a bitch had solid plans in place to move back in with his wife. And some part of her wondered if he’d known that when he told her otherwise.
Not telling her was one thing; she was used to that. She would even admit that they had a terrible history of mutually leaving important details out. But not telling wasn’t the same as lying. She’d never believe that omission was equal to deliberately saying something inaccurate. He’d looked her in the eyes and lied. Olivia sat back, resting against the side of the bathtub. She didn’t have the energy to sob, but that didn’t stop the tears from flowing.
“Olivia?” Kathy’s timid voice came from the doorway of the bathroom, where she stood holding a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol. “I found these in the kitchen. They might help.” She stepped forward cautiously, squatting down to set the glass and the bottle on the blue carpet beside Olivia. “Do you need help getting up?”
Olivia looked at her rival, realizing for the first time that Kathy wasn’t to blame. Kathy had turned to her in desperation, looking for comfort and reassurance. It wasn’t her fault that Olivia was in love with her husband. It wasn’t her fault that her husband had cheated on her.
Olivia shook her head, her eyes welling up with tears for the other woman as well. “I think I better stay here for a while.”
Kathy nodded and stood, returning to the doorway. “I shouldn’t have accused you of-“ She paused, looking down at her hands. “I’m sorry.” And then she walked away.
As soon as she heard the front door close, Olivia started to wonder if she should have told Kathy the truth.
It took a long time for her to even formulate an idea of what to do next. Her initial plan of avoiding Elliot at all costs was proving to be easy enough; however, it didn’t provide much detail regarding what she should do with herself while she was avoiding him. By the time she’d decided on a course of action, the nausea had fortunately passed.
Painful as it would be to admit it, Olivia knew she could deal with it if Elliot had simply used her for sex. She wouldn’t like it and she certainly wouldn’t ever forgive him, but she could accept it. It didn’t seem like something he would do, but she’d witnessed him apparently doing so, which made it a bit more feasible. Besides that possibility, there was something else Olivia had to work through. Elliot had obviously lied. Either to her or to Kathy, but he’d told different stories to them and clearly one of them could not be true.
Using her body for his pleasure was bad enough. If he’d lied to her in order to do so, that was simply unforgivable. Beyond even the homicidal rage she expected she’d eventually feel about it, the idea that such a thing was even possible stunned and sickened her. She couldn’t believe it quite yet, so the anger and pain and real emotion couldn’t set in.
One thing was clear, even in her inebriated state: she had to know if he’d lied to her. And there was only one way to find out, since she couldn’t reasonably expect a liar to admit to having lied if that were the case. Loathe as she was to find out, she knew she had to.
It took all the strength she could muster to scrape herself off the floor. She almost changed her mind when she had to face the idea of getting dressed in something a little more appropriate. Unable to put much effort into it, she settled on the jeans and sweater she’d been wearing the previous night, since they were still lying in a messy heap on the floor by her bed. Rationalizing that it was easier than opening drawers, she tried to block out the memories of Elliot’s hands pulling the hem of the sweater of her head, his fingers deftly working the button of her jeans. The feelings that accompanied the memories overwhelmed her while she contemplated her bra. She couldn’t stop the image of Elliot sliding the straps down her arms while chasing them with his lips, nor could she ignore the vivid memory of his hands working the clasp, sliding the lacy fabric off of her completely while his hands and eyes and lips explored the newly revealed territory.
With a choked cry, bitten back by sheer pride, she threw the offending garment across the room. She couldn’t imagine ever putting it back on, let alone just then. She decided to forego a bra altogether and pulled her clothes on as quickly as her impaired coordination would allow her. Her eyes held tight to the hallway, refusing to see anything else, ignoring the bed that would bring back more memories she wasn’t emotionally equipped at the moment to deal with.
With a determination that strong-armed the hurt out of the way, she pulled on her jacket and the darkest sunglasses she owned to head outside. Her emotional collapse could wait; she resolved to find out the truth before she went back to her breakdown. She ignored the dread that built in her stomach with every step she took toward his apartment. The buzz of the alcohol was gone, leaving only a dehydrated fog in her mind. She stopped at a vendor to get some water, but she was only able to sip at it. Although empty, her stomach threatened retaliation at the attempt to put anything in it.
Her speed slowed incrementally; she was barely lifting her feet off the ground by the time she reached his block. Her eyes fell on the steps into Elliot’s building, bringing to mind the night they’d sat on those steps and made peace. It had only been a few months earlier when they’d been starting over; now, they were just over.
She allowed herself a moment to feel the pain of it. Then she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and entered the building without another thought. Climbing the steps to the second floor resolutely, she talked herself into possibly giving him another chance. If he hadn’t lied, if maybe he’d only made a colossal mistake that morning, if he felt bad for hurting her and wanted to apologize, she might be able to forgive him. Maybe. But first, she needed to know if he’d lied.
She knocked on his door, bracing herself for the unlikely possibility that he’d called off sick and was sitting inside. She prayed that wasn’t the case since she didn’t have any plans for that contingency, short of running for the stairs. Her knock echoed loudly, but he didn’t answer. She raised her hand and knocked again, a bit harder to negate any chance that he was inside and hadn’t heard.
She heard a door open and close downstairs and then a voice from the bottom of the staircase.
“You here to look at it?”
Her heart dropped as she peeked down at the gray-haired man below. “Yeah.”
“I’ll be right up.”
“Thanks.” She tried to smile, but it wouldn’t come out. Still, she tried to keep herself calm. Just because he’d listed the place didn’t mean he’d lied. Even if the plan to move home was only vague, he would need to get rid of his place eventually.
The super came up the stairs slowly, giving Olivia more time to study him than she needed. He was a short man, with a head full of curly gray hair. He favored his right leg as he limped along. Something about him, probably his easy smile and twinkling eyes, gave her the impression that he was younger than his haggard appearance initially led her to believe. Olivia guessed that he was only in his mid-fifties, despite his grandfatherly looks. Rather than being creepy, she found it cute when he winked at her. She wished she was really there to look for an apartment. There was something about him that made her comfortable. She’d have like to have him looking out for her in some way. She wanted someone like him in her life, someone she could run to in her current situation, someone who would give her a hug and offer her some stupid platitude about everything working out for the best.
“The guy who lives here is pretty quiet, not home much. The place is in great shape.” He swung the door open and motioned for Olivia to go ahead.
She made another attempt at a smile, but it died quickly as she glanced around. The couch sat against the living room wall. Elliot’s duffle bag sat on top of it, a few clothes spilling out of the unzipped top. His sneakers were sitting on the floor in front of the couch. But that was it. The rest of the room was empty.
Chapter Eleven
She had to work hard to swallow the lump in her throat. The super waited at the door while she walked through the living room, which served her well since he’d probably want to know why she was crying. Sick, twisted curiosity propelled her through the kitchen and hallway and bedroom. There was less in each room than had been in the living room, except for the sealed boxes filling the dining room. Her face twisted angrily into a scowl as she recalled his comment about when he was moving home.
“I don’t know my ass,” she grumbled at the wall. She was tempted to kick it as well, but she knew that would wind up hurting her more than it would Elliot. It seemed that everything wound up hurting her more than it did Elliot. Probably because, beyond work, Elliot didn’t really give two shits about her.
She put a hand to her mouth as if to hold back the sobs physically. Of course he hadn’t lied to his wife. She was his wife. He’d made it clear that his family was his whole life. Silly her. She’d thought his job figured in there somewhere. She knew that it didn’t, not really. His job was a means to an end, a way to make a living for his family, for his kids, for his wife. He worked in order to provide for them. Olivia was just a part of the job, something that came with the territory.
“Miss? Are you all right?” The super had noticed her absence and found her leaning against the empty bedroom wall.
She shook her head. No, she wasn’t all right. Sniffling, and embarrassed to be doing so in front of a stranger, she opened her mouth and said words that were intended to be an excuse, but wound up being more accurate than she’d realized. “I just lost someone very close to me.”
He stepped closer, patting her shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that. If it’ll help, I’ll knock fifty bucks off the rent.”
She couldn’t stifle the giggle that suddenly erupted. Fifty bucks wasn’t going to do a damn thing for her, but she didn’t want to ruin the poor guy’s day. “I’ll have to get back to you.”
“I’m Joe. Just give me a call if you have any questions.” Joe handed her a card with his name and number.
She accepted it as gracefully as she could knowing that she was never going to see him again. “Thanks, Joe.” She forced a smile and led the way to the door. “I should be going.”
Not that she had anywhere to go. She knew Elliot was going to look for her, if for no other reason than to yell at her for allowing him to be blindsided by her resignation. He always expected her to warn him when she was so pissed off at him that she was going to do something irrational. Someday he would figure out that would defeat the purpose.
Olivia needed to find somewhere to hide out. Her apartment was dangerous for several reasons - the memories of the previous night, the knowledge that Elliot would look there first, the fact that being utterly alone seemed suddenly like a bad idea. There was no doubt in her mind that Elliot was going to try her place at least once. In fact, the odds were that he’d sit in the hallway or on the stairs and wait for her since he wouldn’t have anywhere else to look for her. It struck her as odd that he hadn’t called yet, since he must have gotten the news from Cragen by then.
She felt her pockets for her phone, realizing that she must have left it at home when she came up empty. Although the memory was hazy due to having been five or so sheets to the wind at the time, she vaguely recalled speaking to Porter and Porter’s ridiculous number of phone calls. She was certain that he hadn’t actually tried that many times, that timing and fate had smiled on her when she answered the phone. She was sure that Elliot had been the one calling her continuously and it could only be attributed to blind luck that the one time she picked up it was Porter and not Elliot on the other end of the phone.
Forcing her thoughts from him, she contemplated being unreachable for the first time in many, many years. It had been over a decade since she’d been free of some device - pager, phone, radio - that kept her in contact with the world and the NYPD. She would have expected a feeling of freedom, not knowing if someone wanted to talk to her, if someone needed her to put herself aside and help them. But she didn’t. She felt alone and neurotic, like she was going to need someone’s help and not have any means to reach them.
Telling herself it was a good thing she didn’t know that Elliot was, or wasn’t, trying to reach her, she found herself ducking into a coffee shop. She hadn’t had coffee in months, but her reasons for swearing off the substance seemed stupid in light of her world falling apart. She ordered herself the largest size they had, selected a huge muffin she would have split with Elliot under any other circumstances, and picked a magazine off the rack. She didn’t really care what was going on in the world of personal finance, but she needed some cover for the fact that she had every intention of hanging out until they kicked her out. There was one empty table, a tiny one that was only empty because it wasn’t large enough to hold a laptop, and she claimed it, sliding carefully between two business men at the adjacent tables.
One of them was a young man in his early twenties frantically typing, talking on his phone, and generally making a caricature of himself. He was trying to impress his first boss, or maybe, showing off how terribly important he was, even though he was spending his day among other people who were so important that they too didn’t need to appear in their offices. Olivia tried to ignore him as she sized up the other man. He was far more relaxed, spending a good portion of his workday surfing the internet while he mindlessly participated in a phone call. She’d only intended to people-watch, but she found herself making eye contact with him. He smiled slightly and she immediately turned to her magazine, pretending to be engrossed in an article about mutual funds.
Any other day, she would have found a way to strike up a conversation. He was attractive, not wearing a wedding ring, and occasionally looking in her direction. But having so recently realized that her best hope for finding a man who wasn’t an ass was a complete failure, she ignored him too.
By mid-afternoon, she’d burned through three more cups of coffee, leaving her shaking slightly from the caffeine, and four magazines, including the sport fishing one she’d accidentally picked up on her last trip to the counter. The hyper, overly important man had long since been replaced by a pair of girls working on some sort of school assignment. The quiet guy, however, was still there, trying his best to get her attention.
She was desperately bored and wanted to leave, but she was still afraid of her apartment. She’d sworn off the place earlier in the day for fear Elliot would skip out on work to look for her. A few hours of perspective told her that it wouldn’t really be Elliot’s style to play hooky just to talk to her, but as the day wore on, the odds were better that he was done work for the day and would be spending his evening trying to locate her. She wasn’t quite to the point where she’d decided to call Joe and take Elliot’s old apartment because he’d certainly never think to look for her there, but it had occurred to her more than once. She decided to hold it in reserve.
Just as the quiet guy was starting to pack up, she couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted to call Casey and see if she could find a way to invite herself over for a girls’ night or something. The odds were slim that Elliot would ever think to try Casey’s apartment. Unfortunately, without her phone, she had no means of reaching her friend. And she was absolutely not going by Casey’s office or the courthouse because the chance of running into someone else was just too great.
Leaning over, she smiled at the man who’d been trying to get her attention all day. “Can I borrow your phone?”
He seemed surprised by her question, apparently expecting another one. He handed it over, trying to figure out her approach. “Are you going to put your number in there?”
She smiled at him as she dialed Casey’s number. “Maybe.” Luckily, Casey was more than willing to meet up for drinks and even suggested a place. “I’ll meet you there in an hour.” She hung up and handed the phone back to her curious friend. She felt kind of bad that he would spend an hour trying to find the number she hadn’t given him, but not bad enough that she changed her mind.
She made it to the bar long before Casey, since she had no other place to go in the intervening hour. Olivia had already had her fill of alcohol for the day, but she started working on a beer. She had no intention of telling Casey what had happened and, by not drinking when she’d been the one to suggest drinks, she would surely cue Casey in that something was very, very wrong.
It was hot in the bar, but there was noise and a crowd and no Elliot and therefore it was infinitely more inviting than her apartment. As she swallowed the last sip of her beer, she grimaced at the lukewarm liquid.
A new beer appeared in front of her and she smiled gratefully. Casey slid into the seat across from her. “Starting without me?”
Olivia smiled. “You’re late.” She took a sip of the fresh beer and studying her friend’s tired face. “So, bad day?”
Casey took a long swallow of her beer and nodded at Olivia. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“Why?” The paranoia came naturally, but as soon as she spoke, she realized that she normally did a better job of hiding it. She followed Casey’s eyes down to her rumpled sweater before pulling her jacket shut.
“Besides the fact that you were wearing that sweater yesterday?”
“I happen to like this sweater.” Squeezing her eyes closed at her own stupidity, Olivia swore she was going to think up better comebacks in the future.
Laughing, Casey shrugged at her. “And I like my fuzzy bunny bedroom slippers.”
Olivia was thankful for the light moment and giggled. “I can’t see you in bunny slippers.”
“Because I never wear them to work.” Casey’s face held the expression Olivia recognized from the courthouse. It was the way she looked at defendants when she’d successfully gotten them to slip up or at witnesses when she’d made them admit to lying. It was her ‘so there’ face.
Olivia didn’t like that it was aimed at her. “Then maybe you should. People might let down their guard.”
Casey laughed, a truly happy sound that seemed foreign to Olivia. “I’ll suggest a ‘Wear Your Pajamas to Work’ day. I’m sure the DA will love it.”
And then Olivia felt herself laughing along and realized laughter itself didn’t mean happiness. “Who knows? You might start a trend. We could have sleepovers and bonfires too.”
Casey grinned and nodded toward the bar. “Conveniently, there’s a guy over there who apparently has some interesting thing with marshmallows and chocolate syrup he’d like to show us. We could invite him to make s’mores.”
The mention of a man, particularly one that was trying to get lucky instantly soured Olivia’s mood. “That’s all well and good, but I’ve recently decided that men suck. I’m done with them.” She hadn’t meant to say anything, but it felt good to get something off her chest.
“All of them?” Casey looked intrigued and Olivia remembered that telling part of a story to a lawyer often ended up in unwillingly revealing the whole story.
Olivia shrugged, wanting to backpedal. She really didn’t want to discuss it; she just didn’t want to be alone. “Only the ones I’ve met, which means that guy at the bar might have potential. I hope you got his number.”
“So you want to drink, not talk. Got it.” Casey didn’t push, which surprised Olivia. They didn’t spend much time together outside of work, probably because their jobs left them angry and frustrated with each other a lot of the time. Olivia imagined she and Casey might have been good friends otherwise. Casey was no more likely than herself to talk needlessly or to demand explanations, even if she was obviously curious.
Deciding she owed the woman something for putting up with her, Olivia nodded at the beer in her hand. “Thanks for getting this round. I’ll get the next one.” She saw no need to tell Casey that she didn’t really want to drink either. Casey would probably be offended to discover that she was only a body, meant to distract Olivia from a hole in her life. And when she thought about it, she felt bad, since she herself had been used in much the same way the night before.
“No problem. Just promise me that you don’t have the flu.”
“What?”
Casey tried to hide a smile behind her beer bottle. “Yeah, I didn’t think you knew anything about it when you called me. Munch said you were in this morning, looked like shit and left all of a sudden.” Casey looked at her carefully. “And while I agree with the ‘look like shit’ assessment, you don’t necessarily look sick.”
Olivia cursed under her breath. She hadn’t given any thought to what rumors might spread about her absence, but she’d assumed Cragen would have to tell someone where she was - although she’d have expected him to tell the truth rather than make up something strange. And of course Casey wasn’t going to drop what was clearly a cover story. It was too much to ask. “No, I don’t have the flu.”
Casey seemed pleased with the lack of argument. “Which means that Elliot probably didn’t go home sick with the flu either, since you clearly didn’t give it to him.”
Olivia felt her blood boil, followed by the telltale burning of her cheeks as a blush spread across them. She could barely choke out words. “Exactly how would I have given him the flu?”
She couldn’t believe she’d been that obvious. In fact, since she’d been at work for only a few minutes, including the time it took for her to hand over her badge and gun and take the elevator back to the street, she was certain she hadn’t given anything away. Elliot must have said something. She wished he were there so she could ask him what the hell he’d been thinking.
Chapter Twelve
One of Casey’s eyebrows rose, revealing that while she’d been moderately interested before, she was quite thoroughly interested then. “Last time Fin had a cold, we shared a thirty second elevator ride and I was out of work for almost a week.”
Her cheeks burned more when she realized that she’d only managed to draw even more attention to herself and her situation. She tried to cover, shrugging noncommittally. “I lost my phone. I didn’t even know Elliot wasn’t at work today.”
Casey’s eyes narrowed, studying Olivia’s face carefully. “Ok, so what’s the deal then?”
“What makes you think there’s a deal?” Olivia lifted her beer to her lips, taking a long sip. She really wanted the water she’d thrown out earlier. She’d never tried getting drunk twice in one day before, but she doubted it would end well.
Casey shrugged back at her, taking a sip of her beer before looking away. “Because you don’t call me a lot to hang out.”
She couldn’t blame Casey for the irritation, but she had to feign anger to keep from seeming out of sorts. “And now I remember why.”
The redhead’s attention was focused somewhere behind Olivia, but her mind stayed on the conversation. “Do you want to tell me why you’re trying to avoid your partner?” Her eyes suddenly shifted back to Olivia.
She couldn’t hide her shock. She really wanted to know what rumors he’d started. It had to be pretty juicy to have gotten all the way to Casey so quickly, especially since he hadn’t been at work either. “What makes you think that?”
Casey leaned forward on her elbows, pushing her beer to the side. “Because as rare as it is for you to invite me out for drinks, it’s even less often that Elliot comes to my office to ask if I’ve talked to you.”
Olivia squeezed her eyes closed, quite happy that she had stayed away from her apartment. If Elliot was stooping to checking with Casey, he was grasping at straws - likely after he’d pounded at her door for several hours. She would have given in and opened it out of annoyance. Turning her eyes on her beer, she sighed. “He’s just mad I didn’t tell him I was quitting.” She glanced up to gauge Casey’s response.
And then it was Casey’s turn to be surprised. She looked stunned as the idea worked its way through her mind. “He didn’t mention that.” She studied Olivia’s face once again. “Are you going to tell me why you quit?”
She didn’t want to. She really didn’t want to. But she remembered that, having quit, she no longer worked with Casey and therefore no longer needed to protect her reputation. If she continued to talk to Casey, it would be as friends, not as coworkers. She swallowed hard, wondering what it would be like to say the words aloud. She hoped it would help mitigate the pain by sharing it with someone. She thought maybe Casey could be that person to assure her everything would be ok after all. She folded her arms across the table in front of her and met Casey’s eyes.
“I slept with him.”
Casey nearly dropped the bottle right out of her hands. “No.” She set the beer back on the table and leaned forward, as though the two were going to be sharing secrets in a hushed whisper. “Damn it, I wish you’d told me.”
Olivia was irritated because that wasn’t the supportive reaction she’d expected. “I just did. I guess I could have called you earlier, but I was busy having a little chat with his wife this morning.”
Casey’s eyes widened further, causing Olivia to wonder if they might just roll out of her head. “Are you serious? Does she know?”
There was something in her tone, something that made her sound like she was more interested in the gossip value than in being a friend. It brought tears to Olivia’s eyes and she hated herself for it. She didn’t want to break down in front of anyone, not again. It was the third time that day she’d done so. But Casey was there, listening, and that was exactly what Olivia needed. She wiped at her eyes, doing little to stem the flow of tears. “You know, he jumped up out of bed this morning because he was late to meet Kathy. What kind of an asshole does that?”
Casey shook her head, mumbling something to herself. “He didn’t mention that when he came looking for you either.” She reached out and rested her hand on Olivia’s arm. “I’m really sorry, Liv.”
“I guess he didn’t figure you’d help him out if he admitted that he was an asshole.”
Casey smiled. “Well, except that’s a given because he’s a man.”
Olivia couldn’t help but smile. “Remind me of that before I do something stupid.”
Casey’s eyes shifted over Olivia’s shoulder once again, the color draining from her face as she did so. “Before you start thinking that I’m an asshole too, I need to remind you that I didn’t know anything about what happened until a moment ago.”
Olivia, still wrapped up in having spilled her secret to someone who appeared uninterested, stared at her friend, not quite understanding. “What?”
Her eyes closed as she spoke, a grimace taking over her face. “Elliot came by to ask if I’d talked to you right after you called me.” She peeked at Olivia and then back over Olivia’s shoulder. “I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to tell him.”
She would have cried out in horror, except that all the air rushed out of her lungs. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. She caught Casey’s eyes, seeing the guilty look on her face, before she turned around to see for herself.
And there he was. Leaning on the bar, staring at them, holding a beer in his hand, cocky as ever.
Olivia turned back to Casey, her face white as a sheet. “I can’t talk to him.” She shook her head, not even caring if Casey had anything to say. “I can’t look at him.”
“I don’t think you’re going to get out of here without talking to him.” Casey bit her lip and looked like she very much wanted to be somewhere else.
“Tell him I’m sick. I’ll go out the back door.”
“That’s not going to work.” Casey shook her head. “He looks like shit, Liv. Worse than you even. Maybe you should just talk to him.”
“And say what? I’m sorry you used me? I’m sorry I distracted you from your pregnant wife? Oh, wait, no, it was his idea so I don’t really think I should be the one apologizing.” Olivia looked around the table, really, really desperate for something to throw.
“Liv, maybe you should let him do the talking. Maybe he’s here to say he’s sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t going to fix this, Casey.”
There was silence as the two squared off. Eventually, Casey nodded. “I’ll go tell him you don’t want to talk to him if that’s what you want. I can’t guarantee that he’s going to listen.” She glanced in his direction once again and then back at Olivia. “He probably figured that out at some point while he was looking for you and he doesn’t seem deterred.”
Olivia shrugged. “What difference does it make? It’s the last time we’re going to see each other, so I might as well get it over with, right?” She poured the rest of her beer down her throat. If she timed it right, she could get violently ill right when he walked over. That might show him.
Casey nodded. “Are you sure?”
She wasn’t at all sure, but it was better than avoiding her apartment for the rest of her life. “Ask the bartender to send over another beer on your way out, ok?” Perhaps, she thought, her initial decision to drown her sorrows was the best idea. But another thought struck her and she grabbed Casey’s wrist as the other woman stood up. “You don’t think he expects me to go home with him again tonight, do you?”
Casey shook her head emphatically, sitting back down in her seat. “Honestly, I doubt either one of you are up to that tonight.” She tried to smile supportively. “I don’t know Elliot like you do, Liv, but he’s never struck me as a jerk, you know? I always thought he was one of the good ones.”
Olivia reluctantly released Casey’s arm as she stood once again. “So did I.”
Casey looked at her from the end of the table with concern reflecting in her eyes. “I’m really sorry, Liv.”
Looking up at her friend, Olivia nodded. She knew Casey hadn’t meant any harm. “Can you do me a favor?”
Casey’s eyes lit up, eager for any chance at redemption. “Anything.”
“Hang out, keep an eye on me, don’t let me do something stupid?” As hurt and angry as she was at Elliot, she knew the potent combination of her closest friend and alcohol could possibly have worse consequences than the innocent cup of coffee from the night before. She didn’t want to say it, she didn’t even want to admit it, but there was a very real chance that a few more beers mixed with the intense way Elliot stared at her when he was angry would allow her to rationalize taking him home again. Or worse, she might blurt out how much she loved him and have to face his rejection again.
Casey nodded. “I’ll be over there talking to my friend with the chocolate syrup.”
Olivia tried to find humor in the joke. “I might join you later.”
Casey nodded, once at Olivia, once at Elliot, who was obviously waiting for some sort of sign. “Good luck.”
And then she was gone.
She distracted herself from the terror of having to talk to Elliot by working the buttons of her jacket. Casey had recognized her sweater, and judging from the level of contact Elliot had with it, he would as well. Olivia saw no reason to let him know more than necessary. He didn’t need to know that his betrayal had hurt her so badly that she couldn’t even be bothered to find clean clothes.
A fresh beer appeared in her line of sight, much as it had with Casey; however she wasn’t nearly as pleased with her new companion. He slid into the seat across from her, his eyes glued to his beer. Olivia took a deep breath and forced herself to look at him. Casey had been dead on when she said he looked bad. And he wasn’t wearing anything on top of his suit coat, leaving it obvious to anyone who looked that he had worn the same clothes two days in a row. Olivia felt marginally better to see how awful he looked.
But as his eyes lifted towards hers, she ducked down. She didn’t want to meet his eyes. She’d always felt a connection with him when she looked him in the eye; it was the only way he couldn’t hide from her. She was afraid of what she’d see there - if he’d be in pain because he’d hurt her or if his only concern was that her sudden career change might force him to answer some tough questions at work.
And there was the simple, scary fact that he’d been able to read her from the first moment they met. She didn’t want to let him see how terribly he’d broken her. The beer in front of her seemed to be calling to her. She wanted it, wanted to numb the ache just a little bit, wanted to concentrate on something somatic, like a queasy stomach, rather than the emotional pain. But her hands didn’t move and the beer remained out of her grasp.
Elliot stared silently; she could feel his gaze burning into her head, but still she refused to look at him. Instead she tried out telekinesis to get her beer into her hand. When that failed, she gave in and reached for it, tilting back the bottle and chugging half of it.
“Are you drunk?”
It wasn’t the question she’d been expecting. Then again, she wasn’t really expecting him to beg for forgiveness, although she certainly would have welcomed it.
She was on her way back to drunk, but she wasn’t there yet. “No.” She had briefly considered lying, giving her an excuse for any strange behavior. But the fact was that she would never be able to convince her partner she was intoxicated when she wasn’t. Needing to be reassured, she turned to check for Casey’s presence over her shoulder, calmed considerably when she spied her friend watching them from the bar.
“You smell drunk.”
She would have laughed if she’d been in a better mood. “You should have smelled me earlier.” Her eyes darted up accidentally, as though the habit of looking him in the eye was too ingrained to deny.
His eyes were narrowed and his face guarded. He was afraid of her; she knew that, even though she didn’t know why. He was the one who’d hurt her so badly. It made her feel good. No, it made her feel better. Very little was going to make her feel good.