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Chapter Text

As Elliot sat in his apartment the evening of December 25, 2021, he couldn’t help but feel multiple

levels of sadness tug at his heart.  First, was the sadness of watching all his children grapple with their first Christmas without their mother.  Kathy had always loved Christmas and had always been the one to ensure this Holiday was magical.  Elliot couldn’t help but feel her loss more astutely today than most other days.

But, if he were honest with himself, the biggest cause of his sadness is the fact that Olivia and her son were no shows today.  Even though he knew it was a big ask, he couldn’t help but feel the disappointment within every fiber of his being.  The prior year had brought a lot of unrest and uncertainty to he and his entire family, but the one constant he knew for certain was that, for nearly two decades (or maybe even longer than that), Olivia Benson had held a large part of his heart.

He loved her.  And, he was in love with her.  Not the idea of her, but with her.  But, he couldn’t help but wonder if they could only be together in that fucking parallel universe he referenced in that god forbidden letter. 

As he sat there, sipping what was left of his wine, he let his mind wander over all the questions he would love to ask her.  She had called him out on the fact that he hadn’t asked her any questions since he had been back home.  It was never that he didn’t want to know.  It was always whether he had a right to know.  He struggled internally with the question:  Would she have answered his questions, or had he lost the right to know anything about her life when he had left.  And, so, he hadn’t asked her any questions.  That approach hadn’t worked out, at all. 

He had more self-awareness than most people assumed he possessed.  He knew he was…intense.  And, when it came to Olivia, that intensity ratcheted up exponentially.  It bordered on obsession and it terrified him.  He knew that she would never put up with that shit, and so he was paralyzed.  He didn’t know how not be obsessed with Olivia.  And, he was terrified that, as soon as he opened his ‘Olivia box,’ he would never be able to stop.  It would drive her insane the amount he wanted her and wanted to know about her.  He was terrified it would drive her to the point of not wanting anything to do with him.

Before he could think twice about it, he was up off his couch moving through his apartment.  He couldn’t help but see the look of disappointment on her face when she called him out on not asking one question about the past 10 years.  And, he also couldn’t stop thinking about that fucking parallel universe.  He was going to show her that he hadn’t been so self-absorbed since his return that he hadn’t thought about her; wondered about her life; and wanted to build a new relationship with her.  He would do and give anything to be part of her life again, in whatever way she would have him.  As he moved through his apartment, looking for what he needed, this idea began to gain legs in his mind, and he began to get excited about it. 

He went to his briefcase and grabbed a legal pad and a pen.  Next, he went to the kitchen to top off his glass of wine.  He didn’t want to be drunk while doing this, but something to take the edge off his nerves couldn’t hurt.

As he sat down at his dining room table, he took a deep breath.  And, then, he started writing.

Olivia,

No, that didn’t look right.  He put a line through her name and tore the page out of his pad.

Liv,

No, too familiar, for some reason.  Another strike through and a tear.

As he sat there looking at the two wadded pieces of paper, he couldn’t help but feel the sadness again.  As much as he wanted to do this, could he?  Could he be the person, the man, the friend, or possibly, hopefully the lover she needed him to be – that she deserved him to be?  She had always been the better person of the two of them.  Was it possible for them to find balance in this relationship, or was he too selfish for them to find the needed, the deserved, balance?

Sitting there, he took a deep breath.  He thought about inviting her and Noah to Christmas, and then…

                                                                                                                                         December 25, 2021

My Dear Friend, Olivia,

You were right.  About a lot of things.  But, specifically, you were right that I have been incredibly selfish and insensitive to not ask one single question about your life over the past ten years.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry that I was too scared to ask.  I’m sorry that you had to call me out on not asking.  I’m sorry that our friendship has become so one-sided.  But, most of all, I am sorry for the hurt and pain I have caused you, My Dear Friend, Olivia.

I will never forgive myself for the hurt and pain I have caused you.  And, I know there are not enough words in the human language to express my remorse, or to erase the pain I have caused.  But, I do want to know you, Olivia.  I want to know anything and everything you are willing to share with me.  I missed you every single day I was gone, Liv, and I’ve continued to miss you since I have been back in New York.

I want to find the balance in our relationship, but I’m terrified if I start asking you questions, I just won’t be able to stop.  You’ll kick me out of your apartment and life faster than I can blink.  So, I’m giving them to you all at once!  (because this makes it so much better….) 

I have an idea – hear me out before you shred this letter and then burn it, for good measure.  There will obviously be follow up questions based upon your responses to the below questions.  What if we find time, whether it be lunch, dinner, facetime, or something else, once a week to talk about any question you want.  There are 52 weeks in a year, and this is my New Year’s Resolution for 2022.  YOU and our relationship are my priority for 2022.  I want to spend the next year getting to know you all over again.  I want to know every part of you, or as much as you are willing to share with me. 

If you are, at all, agreeable to this idea, below are the questions I’ve wanted to ask you over the past several months – the past couple of decades, if I’m honest.  They are in no certain order, and you may choose to refuse to answer any of them.  I’ll simply replace any questions you refuse to answer with new questions.  I do have one request, though.  Don’t discard any questions from the onset.  If we go through all the questions you are willing to answer, and there are still questions you don’t want to answer, then I will provide replacements.  Can you give me this last, unfair request?

At this point, Elliot leaned back in his chair and grabbed his glass of wine.  He had so many questions.  Several, he knew, would obliterate the line of this ‘friendship,’ but he refused to not include them.   The question was where and how should he include them.  He decided ultimately to sprinkle them in here and there.  He thought about all the other things he wanted to know:  her life; her lovers; Noah.  He literally wanted to know it all.  So, he just started writing, as they came to mind.

As he starts his list, he gets an idea.  He still knows Olivia, whether she wants to admit that or not.  He may not know the details of the past ten years, but he know her core, all the same.  He knows the biggest hurdle he will face for the rest of their lives will be to convince her that he will never leave her again.  So, he grabs his phone and starts counting on his calendar.  Other than sprinkling a few of the more risqué questions into the list, he really has no order to the thoughts that are pinging into his mind.  But, there is one thing he wants to do.  She may not consciously realize what he’s doing, but on some level, whether she ever admits it to him or not, she’ll get it.  Looking at the calendar, he makes the following notes:

• Valentine’s – 7^th week of the year.
• Spring Break – not knowing what school Noah attends makes this one a little more difficult, but he estimates that to be around the 11^th week of the year.
• Easter – 16^th That’s a hard one, but I have to have something between Spring Break and Memorial Day.
• Memorial Day – 22^nd
• 4^th – 27^th.
• Why the hell is there no Holiday in August??
• Labor Day – 36^th.
• Halloween – 44^th.
• Thanksgiving – 47^th.
• Christmas – 52^nd.

1. What’s your favorite part of motherhood?
2. What’s Noah’s personality like?
3. What are Noah’s favorite things?
4. When’s Noah’s birthday?
5. What can I get Noah for his birthday?
6. Would it be alright if I hugged you hello and goodbye?
7. May I take you to dinner during the seventh week of the year? As he types this one, he knows it’s a risk.  What he really wants to ask is whether she will be his Valentine, but he knows that will go over like a fucking lead balloon. 
8. How do you find balance with being a mother and a Captain within the NYPD?
9. Do you have any idea how incredibly proud I am of you and everything you have accomplished in your life?
10. May I meet Noah?
11. Would you and Noah like to go see a NYC Ballet production over Spring Break?
12. What happened to cause the far away sadness I see in your eyes, at times?
13. Have you found a new favorite lunch spot?
14. What’s your favorite meal?
15. What’s your favorite way to unwind at the end of a long day?
16. Would you like to come over for dinner with the family?
17. Can we hold hands when having our conversations?
18. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?
19. If you could ask me anything, knowing I would answer you honestly and completely, what would it be?
20. What do you dream about at night?
21. How can I be the man you need me to be?
22. May I take you and Noah out for the day, just the three of us?
23. What is something I can do to make your day/week/life better?
24. How do you like to be kissed?
25. Do you keep in touch with Cragen or Munch?
26. May I kiss you?
27. Would you and Noah like to go to Central Park to see the Annual Fireworks display?
28. Of all your professional accomplishments, which one are you the most proud of?
29. What’s something you want to tell me that you experienced while I was gone? Good, bad or ugly:  I can take it and I will be here for you.
30. How much do you hate me?
31. How can I convince you that I will never leave your life again?
32. What happened with Noah’s dad?
33. Were you always this beautiful?
34. What’s the happiest you have ever been in your life?
35. Would you be open to us having lunch dates during the week?
36. At what point may I tell you how much you mean to me?
37. What all has Noah been for Halloween?
38. What are your favorite mommy/son activities?
39. What’s Noah’s favorite subject in school?
40. Does he hate any subjects?
41. Do you guys take an annual family vacation?
42. How are you so incredible at everything you do in life?
43. When you envision your future, what do you see?
44. Would you and Noah come over for a small Halloween get together and some trick-or-treating?
45. What’s your favorite time of the year?
46. What’s your biggest fear?
47. Would you and Noah be available to celebrate Thanksgiving with me and the family?
48. Are you aware how in awe of you I have been since I met you?
49. Have I explained to you, the best way I can articulate, why I left, why I returned and why I gave you that letter?
50. Have you ever wondered if this is the universe where we were always supposed to be together – right here, right now?
51. Would it help you if I picked up Noah some in the afternoons so you can work, shop and do all the other things that have to get done at the end of the year?
52. Will you and Noah spend Christmas with me and our family, this year and for the rest of our lives?

And, there it is.  A list of 52 questions.  Elliot was feeling good until the list was written.  Now, he’s rethinking this entire idea.  Giving her the entire list now, when they are in such a tenuous spot, could prove catastrophic. 

Those last 5 or 6 questions are pointed.  They make his intentions clear, or at least he thinks they do.  Is it too much, too soon?  Is there even a possibility that this ends with a happy ending, or is this just another one of his half-cocked, rash ideas?  Does he even deserve a happy ending?  It seems he has as many questions for himself as he does his Dear Friend, Olivia.

Sitting there, reading the beginning of the letter, he doesn’t know if he will ever send this to her, but he’s at least going to finish what he started writing.

You are the dearest friend I have ever had or will ever have in my life, Liv.  I know you have no reason to believe that, based upon how I left you and then the upheaval and unfairness I have brought to your life since my return.  Having said that, I love you, Liv.  That love can be contained to one of friendship, if that’s all I am or ever can be to you.  I will be here for you for the rest of my life, in whatever way you will have me.  I would love the opportunity to see what we could be, really be, if given the opportunity.  But, I know I haven’t been the man you need or deserve in your life, and I know you have to protect yourself and your son, at all cost.  If this is too much, we never have to talk about this letter again.  You don’t even have to acknowledge you received it.  I will understand and will never ask you about it, Olivia.

If, however, you would like to embark on this weekly journey of getting to know one another again, there is a coffee shop smack in the middle of our apartments.  Public place, well lit, clean restrooms, in case you need to hide at any point. 😊  I will be at Café NYC on Sunday, January 2^nd at 2:00 in the afternoon.  You would make me the happiest man on the planet if you would allow me to buy you an iced coffee, or anything else you want.  I will be there, Liv, and I will be praying I see you walk through that door.

But, if not, I understand.  I promise, I will understand.  And, I will still be here.  Always.

Semper Fi,

El

Elliot struggled how to appropriately end the letter, but there were no two truer words that he could have written.  He sat there for a long while, just staring and struggling with what the right move was here.  He had already messed up this relationship so much and he knew, in his heart of hearts, that his chances to get it right were running out, may have run out already.

Was absolute honesty and transparency the way to go?  He could admit that it was a strategy he had never tried, but was it the right strategy?

He finally decided that he wasn’t going to solve any of these questions tonight.  Looking at the clock, he groaned.  It was 4:00 in the morning.  He had been at this for almost four hours.  His only consolation was that Christmas 2021 was on a Saturday this year.  Hopefully, his Sunday would allow him to catch up on his sleep. 

He tore all the pages from his legal pad and stood up and stretched.  He went to put his pad and paper back in his bag and, on a whim, grabbed an envelope.  He finished what he started by putting the pages in an envelope and addressing the front with Olivia’s name and address.  He still didn’t know if he would deliver it to her, but at least it was sealed and would mean he would have less time to chicken out if he decided to go forward with sending.  What that done, he put his empty glass in the sink and headed toward his bedroom, knowing that sleep would remain elusive tonight. 

When he finally pulled himself up and out of the bed the next morning, Eli and Bernie were in the living room talking.  He looked around, as he thought he had heard Kathleen’s voice when he first woke up, but didn’t see her.  His mom must have seen his unspoken question, because she piped up to let him know that he had just missed her by about 20 minutes.  She had a Friendsmas to get to and couldn’t wait for him to get out of the shower, else she would be late.  Elliot nodded and went in search of caffeine.  He had slept like shit and caffeine was a must to get through the rest of the day.

As he passed by the table he sat at last night, on his way to the kitchen, he froze.  The letter.  It was gone.  He scanned the entire length of the table and it wasn’t there.  He bent down slightly to look under the table and it wasn’t there either.  He turned to look at the counter tops and his mom’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks. 

“If you’re looking for that letter to Olivia, dear, Kathleen took it with her.  She said she had a few other things to mail, so she would drop it off at the post office with her stuff.  She had an extra stamp on hand.”

Elliot was frozen, again.  He was desperately trying to gauge if he was going to be physically ill, while trying to run through his options in his mind.  He sprinted toward his bedroom and his damn phone.  He hit his daughter’s speed dial, and waited.  It rang once.  Twice.  Three times.  About the time he was cussing and ready to hang up and text her, he heard her voice.

“Hi, dad!  Before you ask, yes, I put your letter in the mail.”

Elliot could not, for the life of him, find his voice.  And, as the silence stretched on, he could hear Kathleen’s confusion growing.

“Dad?”

His voice came out hoarse and strangled.  “Okay, Leen.  Thanks.”  He about choked on the words, and he could tell Kathleen knew something was up, but that was not a conversation he was having today.  So, he practically hung up on his daughter, after telling her to have fun with her friends.

Elliot thew his phone as hard as he could at the mattress on his bed, and then flopped down after it.  The phone bounced harmlessly a couple of times, and Elliot laid there, stricken.  He took a couple of deep breaths, trying not to be sick. 

And, then, peace washed over him.  He was still scared shitless that this was the worst thing he could have done, but at least he had done something.  Good, bad, ugly or indifferent – he had fucking done something.  Well, with a little forced help, he had done something. 

But, now, there was literally nothing to do but wait.  All of a sudden, January 2^nd felt as if it was eons away.  Should he text her now?  Should he just let it ride until the 2^nd?  What the fuck was he supposed to do?

He made the second hardest decision of his life and reached out to her only once the week between Christmas and New Year’s.  He sent her a message on the 26^th , letting her know he hoped she and Noah had a wonderful Christmas, and that he and the rest of the family missed them.  She replied with much the same, but not much else.  Logically, he knew he texted her on the same day that the letter was mailed, a Sunday at that, and that there was no way she could have possibly gotten the letter.  Having said that, her short and sweet reply did nothing for his nerves or his sanity.  That moment of peace he had felt when he realized he had actually done something had been fleet, and was entirely gone.

The week between Christmas and New Year’s was one of the longest weeks of his life.  He slept only a couple of hours each night, and his time at the gym each day correlated strongly with the closeness of that day to his personal D-Day. 

And, then finally, his personal New Year’s Eve had arrived.  The rest of the world called January 1, 2022, their New Year’s Day.  But, for him, it was the Eve of what he viewed as the rest of his life.  That next day was either going to be the most joyous day of his life, or it was going to be one of the hardest.  Either way, he just wished it would fucking get here.

He tried for nonchalant all morning, but no one in his house was buying it.  As such, everyone breathed a sigh of relief when he announced he was going to do an extra workout this week, due to all the Holiday eating, and left for the gym.  Sunday’s workout was by far his most strenuous, as he needed to burn some of the anxiety out of his system. 

Heading back home around noon, he felt marginally better.  Once he got home, he breathed his own sigh of relief when he determined his apartment was empty.  At least now he could stew in peace.  He ate and showered and paced.  And, then, after a heated internal debate, he decided he was going to fix himself one drink.  But, as he was pouring the bourbon over the ice in his glass, he knew he wouldn’t touch it. 

This was it.  This was his one chance at a new beginning and, God help him, he was going to do it stone cold sober.  She deserved that much.  They deserved that much.

By 1:15, he was talking to the Café and by 1:30 he had selected a table, where he could watch the front door.  All that was left now was to pray. 

From the moment he sat down, his head jerked up every time someone opened that damn door.  But it was never her.  He tried to ignore the growing knot in his stomach as the clock continued its traitorous march to 2:00.  By 1:50, he was starting to prepare himself for the inevitability that she wouldn’t show.  By 1:55, he felt downright sick. 

And, then, the clock struck the magic number.  As fate would have it, the door opened at the exact moment the digital clock on the face of his phone flipped to 2:00.  But, this time, for the first time since he had sat down at what he was affectionately thinking of as their table, he didn’t bother to look up.  He knew that whomever had walked through the door was not Liv.  And, at that moment, he knew.

But, then…