Work Text:
Olivia didn’t plan to have a therapy session in her office.
Meeting virtually with Dr. Lindstrom was not ideal; she’d rather be far from the precinct’s constant chaos and watchful eyes when her psyche was on display. However, she had canceled every scheduled appointment with him this calendar year, and he gently reminded her that if they didn’t have at least one session in 2025, his billing office would drop her as a patient. She understood; no matter their history, therapy is a business, and the waitlist of potential patients desperate for a good psychiatrist in Manhattan was sadly infinite. She wasted enough of his time this year with last-minute cancellations, and was about to add another to the list when he offered the option to meet online if she was unable to leave her office.
So, here they were, chatting through screens at their respective desks two days before Christmas. Olivia moved to the back vestibule of her office; if someone ignored her sign and didn’t knock, she at least had a moment to pause their session. Her AirPods were dead; she didn’t need the entire precinct hearing Lindstrom’s analysis of her mind and heart.
They spent the first half of their session getting reacquainted. Olivia filled him in on Cragen’s passing and Fin’s attack, the irritation over yet another new chief trying to micromanage her, and various highlights with Noah. When Lindstrom asked Olivia what her plans were for the holiday, she cheerfully brought up Elliot’s annual invitation to the Stabler Christmas gathering, and she finally felt comfortable accepting this year.
This back-and-forth conversation was supposed to be light— a glossy snapshot of her friendship with Elliot— until Dr. Lindstrom struck a hidden nerve, one that perhaps had been hiding behind the reason for all the canceled appointments this year. A truth she didn’t want to face.
Have you forgiven Elliot?
Four words from Lindstrom and her face fell into a frown, repressed realizations slipping past her tongue after a long, defeated sigh.
~oOo~
Elliot didn’t plan to overhear Olivia’s therapy session in her office.
Amanda waved him through, seemingly unaware that Olivia did not want to be disturbed. In Amanda’s defense, Olivia had the knock rule for everyone except Elliot lately, telling him a few months ago in front of Amanda that he could stop by anytime, especially if he was bringing her coffee. It was teasing when she said it, even flirtatious with the rest of her squad in earshot, but he didn’t take advantage, limiting his impromptu visits to about once per week, not wanting to crowd her space.
Elliot expected to see her at her desk, glasses perched upon the end of her nose, elbows deep in something keeping her focus away from the door and on the task at hand. When he heard her speaking in the back room, he figured she was on a call that couldn't be interrupted. Fully prepared to leave the coffee on her desk and tiptoe out, his name falling from another man’s mouth stopped him cold.
Have you forgiven Elliot?
He glared toward the offending voice, wondering what man in Olivia’s life dared to speak about him. Them. He wanted to storm back there and demand answers, but his feet knew better and stayed glued to their spot by the door. And then, oh.
Oh.
The realization dawned on him when he heard Olivia’s deep sigh, a struggle he knew from its sound was a desperate attempt to keep her emotions in check. This must be Dr. Lindstrom.
Peter Lindstrom’s name flashed across her screen a few weeks earlier during another coffee drop-off. Elliot saw the name before she silenced the buzzing, and she rolled her eyes at him when she caught his glimmer of jealous curiosity.
He’s my therapist, El.
He smirked then, softly, guilty as charged, and they moved on with their day and their lives. Now, his curiosity outweighed respect, guilty again, as he waited to hear her reply.
“You know that saying, ‘forgive and forget’?” Olivia began, her voice laced with sadness and frustration. Lindstrom must have nodded some sort of assent, and she continued. “I've forgiven him. At least, I think I’ve forgiven him.” She paused, the silence a crushing weight enveloping his chest. “I want to forgive him.”
“But…?” Dr. Lindstrom carefully prodded, while Elliot held his breath ten feet away.
“But… I keep forgetting who I was then, and, more importantly, who he was then. I don’t want to forget that he walked away. Ten years of me missing him, worrying about him, wishing him out of my dreams, begging for him in my nightmares, then starting the cycle all over again. And I never had a right to him, but he was my person. My family. For a decade I held on to so much anger. Then he came back, and one look at him, and I let it all melt away. I gave him the love, grace, and compassion that I longed for so badly. I gave him forgiveness.”
She paused, finally, as Elliot sank against the doorframe, crushed with the realization that they hadn’t made any real progress at all. Five years later, his words and actions meant nothing. He didn’t matter to her.
He deserved all of it, and none of it. All of her hurt, pain, vitriol, and frustration. None of her love and friendship.
None of her at all.
Dr. Lindstrom’s voice broke through his selfish lamentation. “You’re upset because you don’t want to let him off the hook.”
“But I feel like I should. Elliot’s gone through so much pain. He tragically lost his wife of almost forty years, his brother was killed a few months ago, his mother has dementia, he’s managing a household reeling from all of this tragedy, and I’m going to whine about him not being there for me?”
“These feelings are allowed to co-exist, Olivia. You can be mad and empathetic. You can be happy to have him back in your life, and still hold him accountable for how he made you feel when he left. Your pain is valid too; it isn’t something to throw away.”
“Wouldn’t that be easier for everyone?”
“Is that what you want? Easy?”
Elliot quietly walked out before he could hear more, his heart dissolving with regret. Coffee still in hand, he tossed the full cup in the trash as he maneuvered past Amanda’s thankfully vacant desk and down the stairs, not taking a chance on a slow elevator arrival or a run-in with her squad.
~oOo~
“Hey, Amanda, heading home, I hope?”
After her emotional appointment with Lindstrom, Olivia spent the day busy as ever. It wasn’t until Amanda’s knock on her office door that she realized how late it was, closing her laptop with finality and pulling off her glasses.
“Yeah, just wanted to make sure you were too.”
Olivia smiled. “Yes. I’m escaping now before anything else stops me. I swear I’m not opening my email until December 26th.”
“Yeah, right,” Amanda teased, and they both chuckled ruefully, well aware this was a lie. They’d be back to it bright and early the next day in hopes they wouldn’t be called in on Christmas Day.
“I can dream, can’t I?”
“Well, at least you got a good cup of coffee today.”
Olivia frowned, confused by Amanda’s comment. “What do you mean?”
Amanda cocked her head, equally confused. “Stabler. Weren’t you in your office when he stopped by earlier?”
Olivia sat back, noticeably reeling, with a hand to her chest as she quickly put together the timeline of an office visit at the worst possible moment. Oh no. She stood quickly, grabbing her coat and bag.
“Amanda, I’m going to head out. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Is everything okay?”
Olivia’s mind raced, cataloguing that there was no evidence of his visit. Elliot didn’t stay, didn’t wait. Didn’t leave the coffee as a clue that he’d been there. She knew whatever he heard, it was enough to make him disappear. And she’s pretty sure she knows which part he heard.
“I hope so.”
The fact that Elliot wasn’t shocked to see her flustered face at his doorstep confirmed her suspicions; his murmured greeting and sullen mood were an indicator of his afternoon revelations. There was no need to lie or pretend; it would be degrading to make this easier with artificial pleasantries. He knew, she knew, and now it was time to hash it out. Elliot wordlessly passed her a tumbler and poured a finger of whiskey into the glass. They sipped in silence, absorbing the sour mood and the savory liquor, until Olivia couldn't take the uncertainty any longer.
“So, how much did you hear earlier?”
Elliot carefully placed his glass on the counter before putting some distance between them and leaning against the sink, arms crossed and eyes downcast.
“Liv, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the ways I’ve hurt you over the years. I don’t want you to have to deal with me anymore. Returning has just caused you more pain.”
“El, stop. That's not true.”
“Five years later and we’re still not fixed, and today made me realize that we’ll never be fixed.”
Olivia wanted to lead with empathy, but a swell of anger bubbled to the surface. “I see,” she snapped, not-so-carefully placing her own glass aside his on the island countertop. “You eavesdropped on five minutes of my therapy session and made assumptions that you know nothing about.”
“Exactly. You shared more in five minutes with your therapist than you’ve shared with me in five years.” It wasn’t an accusation, simply a sadly stated fact.
“And whose fault is that? You’re the one that left. You don’t get to know my feelings.”
“You’re right. And that’s okay, Liv. I get it.”
“Get what? What major epiphany did you have today? Enlighten me, Elliot.”
He stared at her, through her, and she shivered with dread. She didn’t want to fight with him; she hated all of these misunderstandings and false starts, but she was too aggravated to explain herself. Finally, he sighed, resigned and defeated, and she realized that whatever they were working toward was over.
“I was kidding myself. I guess I thought that maybe we could eventually move forward. That we were moving forward. It was wrong for me to think that you could ever forgive me.”
“Isn’t that for me to decide?”
“When? When, Olivia? I’ve been back half as long as I was gone. I’m not leaving again unless it’s in a body bag, so when will I finally earn your forgiveness?”
She stammered, struggling to find words lodged behind the declaration of love she wouldn’t dare say aloud. Elliot took her cue, misunderstanding her silence as proof fueling his point. “C’mon Liv, aren’t we fooling ourselves here?”
The panic in her chest tightened with each syllable from his lips. She wanted to shake him for retreating, cowering away when things got tough. He obviously didn’t hear the most important part of her session, the part that made her excited and hopeful. The part now crashing before her eyes:
“How do you feel about him today? The pain of the past aside, what’s the first emotion that you feel when you think of him?”
Olivia replied without hesitation. “I love him. I’ve always loved him. Even when I didn’t want to, even when I hated him for leaving, even when I had no right to his heart, I loved him anyway. But he’s been back for five years, and it’s been this infuriating emotional roller coaster. I know to everyone else it’s this stupid game of ‘will they or won’t they,’ but it’s so much deeper and more complicated than that.”
“Do you see a future with him?”
“Yes. I want that. I want the rage, and the passion, and the laughter. I want our kids to be together for the holidays. My god, I would marry him tomorrow if he asked, and we haven’t even kissed yet. What does that make me, that I’m so willing to forgive him and throw myself at him and his family?”
“It makes you human, Olivia. It makes you worthy of love, true love, and all of the trials and tribulations that go with it. It makes you messy and vulnerable, but it also makes you real.”
Olivia pondered that for a moment, digesting his analysis. She wanted to come up with some sort of valid counterargument, but all she could muster was, “I hate messy.”
Dr. Lindstrom chuckled. “I know. But maybe, and hear me out, Olivia, you deserve messy. The kind of messy that rebuilds and outlasts. The kind of messy that you keep cleaning up, because the mess is worth it, and underneath the chaos of it all is real, everlasting love.
“Fight, Olivia. Fight with him, and then fight for him. I have a feeling he’s going to fight for you too.”
The highlight reel of that conversation swirled in her brain as the ice settled within her heart. He was giving up. It was over.
“Funny, after all these years, Lindstrom was wrong about something. He said you would fight for me, but instead you’re saying goodbye.”
“Liv, wait-”
Before he could say more, she stormed off into the darkness, slamming the door behind her.
Elliot didn’t follow.
~oOo~
He let her walk away. And he wasn’t sure what to do next.
Elliot knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to chase after her, spin her around, and crush his lips to hers to show her that he’ll fight for her until his dying breath. Olivia’s accusation of him not fighting for her left him stunned, but what did he expect? He ditched her for a decade and hadn’t exactly been there for her since he’d been back. Of all the emotions he had a right to feel in the wake of this mess, stunned was not one of them.
He owed her so much.
Finishing his whiskey in one large, agonizing swallow, he placed the glass in the sink and retreated to his bedroom, the heaviness of their fight leaching through his rib cage. He understood heartache all too well, but this was a weariness that sat alone with him, uncoupled with rage. With Kathy, it was easy to redirect his sorrow to a reckoning; shoving his guilt and anguish away from the mirror into something, someone, tangible to blame. To throw fists through walls in the name of revenge, bittersweet and satisfying to crest over the waves of grief.
With Olivia, the mirror is all he had, the bitter enemy within himself. The man who left like a coward and came back like a wrecking ball. Too little, too late. He could punch it; hell, he’d done it before, a nice symbolic gesture and a big fuck you to himself for all of his faults and failures, but his kids didn’t need to see that side of him, shards of glass and shredded knuckles. Olivia definitely didn’t need to see that either, yet another reason for her to be disappointed in the person he’s become.
Instead, Elliot stared straight ahead, reckoning with the man staring back at him. Yesterday, he saw a hopeful man, an excited man. Someone worthy of second chances. Now, he sees a man pretending for far too long that his actions didn’t have consequences, that his sins were worthy of atonement.
Sliding a hand down his face, he looked down, eyes catching the wooden box he kept next to a smattering of family pictures, a few frames of various sizes with Kathy and the kids smiling at the camera. Another of his grandsons. One of Olivia and Noah, their Christmas card photograph from last year that he framed before anyone accidentally misplaced it. All reminders of happier times, reasons to stay, a future to look forward to. He opened the box and pulled out the small gift tucked away deep inside, behind his combat cross and wedding ring, and various other keepsakes. A gift he hoped to give to Olivia someday, when she was ready for something beyond a friendship (for now).
His mother gave it to him last summer, on a lucid, good day. One where she wasn’t grieving Joey’s death and was distracted by good company. Olivia and Noah had joined them for dinner, and everything was nice. The kind of nice that filled him with unfettered joy because of how simply comfortable it was, as if they did this routine every day. Elliot realized then how much he wanted it— peace, happiness, and nightly dinners with the Bensons.
After they left, he knew he was doing a poor job of wiping the stupid smile from his face as he busied himself with dessert dishes and turning off the coffee pot. It wasn’t until he heard Bernie’s chuckle behind him that he realized he wasn’t alone in the kitchen.
“Mama, I thought you were going to bed.”
“Not yet. It’s not often that I get to see you this happy, Elliot.”
As much as he wanted to protest, he knew his poker face was nonexistent. “It was a good day.”
“It was. I really love that partner of yours.”
He wanted to add ‘me too,’ but thought better of it and nodded instead.
“And that son of hers, what a doll. You know, if I didn't know any better-“
“Mama!” He exclaimed, sternly, warning her off of what she was about to say next.
Bernie waved her hand dismissively. “As I said, I know better.”
Elliot joined his mother at the island counter, fiddling with a lone napkin that never made its way to the trash. She placed her hand atop his.
“I can see that you’re protective of Noah. Olivia too.”
“I am. I missed her, Mama. I missed so much of her life. I don’t think I made the right decisions back then. Everyone got hurt.”
Bernie nodded. “You made the best choices at the time, and sometimes the best choices are the most painful ones.”
“I don’t know what else to do to show her how sorry I am. She doesn’t trust me anymore.”
“Now, Elliot, I may be losing my marbles, but tonight I saw a woman who trusts you completely. You need to be patient to earn back all of the other parts of her, and to learn the new parts too. And we all know how patient you are.”
He rolled his eyes with a gentle huff of frustration that lacked any real heat, before patting his mother’s hand. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Before you head off to brood in your room like a lovesick teenager, take this.” She reached into her pocket and placed the small gift in his hand. “This belonged to my mother, and I want Olivia to have it. Give it to her when she’s ready.”
Elliot stared at it with wonder, understanding the implication of Bernie’s words. “I’m not sure she’ll ever be ready for this.”
“She will, you’ll see. Be patient. Goodnight, Elliot.”
He reflected on that moment with his mother with wistfulness; there hadn’t been many days like that since, and he knew he was losing her in a different way than he was losing Olivia. Time certainly was a thief, and he was tired of always looking back full of guilt and melancholy.
Closing the box resolutely, he made a decision. Maybe it was time to be impulsive and impatient. What did he have to lose?
~oOo~
After a full day of deskwork distracting Olivia from her misery, the loose ends were tied up enough for her to spend some much-needed quality time with Noah. She hadn’t officially cancelled Christmas Day dinner with the Stablers yet; she figured she’d let Elliot tell his family whatever the hell he wanted to excuse her absence. Noah would be crushed; she decided to hold off on telling him until tomorrow, which gave her time to plan how she would let him down. He was heading to Connor’s on the 26th, so she knew his disappointment would be short-lived. She just needed to work up the nerve to break his heart.
And hers.
Olivia sent the rest of her squad home early under the pretense of Christmas Eve, but what she really wanted was the quiet, an extra hour to pull herself together without an audience; to sit in her sadness so she could leave it at work and give Noah the happiness he deserves.
The loud knock at her door ruined her plan of stewing in solitude.
Elliot stood before her, looking devastated but determined, less tail-between-his-legs and more loose-cannon. He seemed crackling with energy to burn, fidgety and aggressive, as if he were ready to interrogate a suspect. Her. The adrenaline surge wasn’t lost on her, and she stood, straightening into a defensive posture, eye to eye with whatever destruction he was bringing to her office.
“Elliot, why are you here?”
He gestured to a couple of gifts he had placed on Amanda’s desk behind him. “I have gifts for Noah that I wanted to drop off. I… I figured you weren’t coming tomorrow, and I wanted to make sure he got them to open on Christmas.”
She softened, her heart breaking a little over his thoughtfulness and her stubbornness. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to, Liv. No matter what’s going on between us, you’re family. I love him.”
The tears stung her eyes as she blinked them back unsatisfactorily. She wanted to tell him to take the gifts back home so they could open them together with their families as they had planned, but fear and frustration were fickle beasts. She was mad, and she wanted to stay mad, even though it wasn’t rational. Even though it hurt to have him in front of her, real and wrecked, mirroring her shattered heart. Lindstrom’s well-intentioned lecture about messiness echoed in her ears. How could something this messy ever become more?
She could tell she was frustrating him with her evasive posture, arms crossed defensively as she eyed him suspiciously. He wasn’t done. Whatever he came here to say or do, he seemed poised and ready to attack.
Instead, he proffered a small box from his jacket pocket and slid it in front of her.
“What’s this?”
“This is me fighting for you. Open it. Please.”
The box was plain, unadorned with any sort of Christmas sparkle or pizazz. Just an ordinary, small box, smaller than the one containing the compass. It mocked her, full of something inside that she was sure was life-changing. Elliot wouldn’t be pacing in front of her like a caged animal if it was a nonchalant, normal gift. With trembling fingers, she gingerly fumbled with the lid, lifted the top, and froze.
The ring inside appeared both antique and expensive. More importantly, the ring looked planned; it wasn’t something scrounged up since their fight to prove a point. This was jewelry either passed down or acquired with care, waiting for the right moment.
This was Elliot going all in.
“Liv, I love you. I’m in love with you. I don't know how to do this, and I’m doing everything wrong, but you’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose you.”
“Elliot-“
“And I know you think this is impulsive and probably stupid, but I want you to know that this is how serious I am about fixing us. About wanting us.”
“How long have you been planning to give me this?”
“My mother gave it to me last year before her dementia got worse. The ring belonged to my grandmother- Mama insisted you have it.”
Olivia shook her head vehemently. “Elliot, no, your girls-”
“My girls are just fine without it. This was meant for you. Look, I’m not asking you to agree to anything or even wear it. You can tuck it away in your sock drawer for the rest of your life. But I want you to keep it. I want you to know how loved you are, even if you can never love me back.”
That decree stunned Olivia from her fractured sentences, and she moved away from her desk, edging closer to him to face him completely. “You… you don’t think I love you?”
Elliot paused, and she could see that he was contemplating a careful response. She was so tired of being careful.
“I know… that it’s complicated, and I understand.”
“No. It’s not complicated. I think it’s the least complicated thing about us. Loving each other was the easy part; it just complicated everything else. God, El, after all these years, you still don’t know?”
When he stared at her, dumbfounded, it only accelerated her rant.
“Why do you think this has been so hard for me? I love you too much; I always have. I loved you, and you left me, and I still love you, and…”
“And?”
“And…” She waved the ring box in the air. “What does this mean?”
“It means whatever you want it to mean. I need you to decide, Liv.”
I would marry him tomorrow if he asked.
God, she wanted him to ask.
~oOo~
Olivia wasn’t running away from this moment, and Elliot was shocked to still be standing in her office. She hadn’t thrown him out, and she hadn't thrown the ring at him either. In fact, she was gripping the box with a wild ferocity, using it to punctuate her words.
She told him that she loved him.
Elliot knew that she did- he was neither blind nor stupid- but god, it felt incredible to hear.
He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to tell her all of the things he’s been holding back for the last five years, for the past twenty-seven. He was just not sure if Christmas Eve was the time to confess his truths to her and risk the vault to her heart locking forever.
Instead, he gave her a ring. A declaration. A vow. An implosion. There was no going back to the way things were, and it surprisingly brought Elliot a measure of relief to move forward, instead of living dormant.
What happened next was up to Olivia.
Elliot needed her to decide, but he was ready to fight for her to choose them. He thought that he’d been quietly doing that for years now, but Lindstrom was right: Olivia needed reassurances, not subtleties. He needed to be loud in his intentions, and he hoped the ring and his declaration of love were loud enough.
Perhaps too loud.
“It means whatever you want it to mean. I need you to decide, Liv.”
He said these words a solid fifteen seconds ago, and she was stuck between gaping at the ring and his face, seeking answers that lie somewhere in the middle.
Elliot stepped closer. “Will it scare you if I say what I’d like it to mean?” When she shook her head, tears welling in her eyes, he took another step. He reached out and grabbed her hand holding the ring, so they were cradling the box together.
“It means that I’d like to spend Christmas with you and Noah tomorrow. With our family. Can we still do that?” Olivia nodded, quickly and resolutely, so he stepped even closer. There was no hesitation in his next request. “And I’d like to do that every Christmas for the rest of our lives.”
Elliot’s eyes searched hers, seeking the realization that bloomed at his implication of forever. When her tears finally spilled over, he cupped her face with his hand, brushing them away with his thumb as it traced her cheek. “And… maybe in between all of the Christmases, we could… talk.”
“Talk?”
“Well, I may have several definitions in mind of what talking means,” he grinned, “but I’d like to start with talking about all the things that matter. It’s time.”
“El, I’m sorry about yesterday.”
“I’m sorry I eavesdropped. I’m sorry about so many things.”
“I know. And I forgive you. I do. The rest is just going to take more time.”
He nodded firmly. “That’s fair.”
She smiled then, eyes drifting down to his lips. “You know, in between all of the Christmases, we can do more than talk.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise, a teasing, relieved grin spreading wide across his face. “Oh yeah?”
“El,” she managed to whisper before their lips finally met in a sweet, seductive kiss.
~oOo~
Olivia plans a therapy session in Dr. Lindstrom’s office.
Six months have passed since her therapist asked her a question about forgiveness and reminded her that she was worth fighting for. She knows he’s surprised to see her so soon, and in person no less.
Lately she felt full of surprises.
They spent the first half of the session getting reacquainted. Olivia filled him in on Noah’s summer dance intensive and visits with Connor, her squad, and the job,
How are things with Elliot?
She pondered all that had happened in her life since their last session: the hard truths and the soft confessions. The difficult arguments and the easy laughter. The Benson calm and the Stabler chaos. The talking, and the talking. She looked down at the glimmering heirloom on her left hand and smiled.
“Messy.”