Rain

You get a lot of downtime in Oregon? He'd asked her twice so far, this was the third. A little, she briefed over her tea. He shifted in his seat and sighed. She knew what he was thinking even before he said the words; You spend a lot of time with The Fed? Since her return, she had noticed two of Elliot's new habits: one; disagreeing with everything she has to say; and two; calling Porter, The Fed. A little, she said again. She wasn't going to play into his suspicious.

Porter came into the precinct one afternoon, and called Elliot a bastard. Again, he whisked Olivia away. Elliot wondered if she would be coming back this time.

What was that about? He asked when she returned, stuffing her coat on a hanger and not looking at him, even though he was pissed.

Nothing, she said.

I don't know how the Feds think they can just come in here and take everyone away at their leisure like we haven't got work of our own to do. He stood and started pacing. She looked at him, but he wasn't looking at her.

It wasn't everyone, Elliot, it was just me, she said quietly, sitting down.

Well, he exclaimed, face fuming, he sat down. He calmed, rubbed his eyes with his palms, and asked it – are you going undercover again?

What? She was taken aback.

Are you going undercover again? He repeated.

So what if I am?

He looked directly at her, she couldn't look away. Well, are you?

She held him there for a moment, whether it was buying time to think of an answer that wouldn't piss him off, or if it was enjoying the contact of their eyes – she didn't know. Why does it matter? She said quietly.

He stood, almost immediately, grabbed his coat, it just does, he said as he left the precinct.

Olivia sat on her couch, deciding whether or not to watch TV or just head straight to bed. Someone knocked on her door. It was Porter.

I said no, Dean, she said. He went inside anyway.

Look, these eco-terrorists know you, they trust you, and he sat down on her couch. She wished he hadn't.

No, I'm not going back. She folded her arms and stood in the kitchen.

Why?

Because… she thought of the dreams, the phone calls she never started, the phone calls she always ended… because I have too much to lose this time.

It was raining, but Elliot decided to walk to her place that night regardless.

He had a key to the building, so he let himself in, and knocked on her door. Porter answered it.

He stopped, shocked, confused, and then sad, and forced it to turn into anger.

Who is it? He heard Olivia's voice in the background.

Your partner, Porter said, not moving from the entrance. Elliot could hear her shuffling, and then footsteps and she appeared at Porter's side, holding two bottles of beer.

Elliot, she said, what are you doing here?

He fought tears, nothing… I was just leaving, and he turned around and walked towards the elevator.

Porter closed the door and laughed. Did you see him? Soaking wet… pretty desperate, huh?

She glared at him, an ache growing in the pit of her stomach, tears forming behind her eyes, she shoved the beer bottles into his hand, and opened the door to chase after Elliot, be gone when I get back, she called over her shoulder.

She reached the elevator just as its doors were closing, so she took the stairs.

Elliot walked slowly away from her apartment. It was still pouring down rain, but he didn't care. In fact, he appreciated that it managed to disguise his tears – he felt stupid, and pathetic.

Of course she'd be home with the Fed… what did he expect? That she'd wait around for him to do nothing? They were both as stubborn as each other.

She hadn't thought to bring her coat – she was wearing thin black pants and a blue blouse – and it was raining and freezing. But she stepped out onto the street, and looked in both directions – searching for him. He was gone, she knew it, and the tears tried to fall, but she fought them.

And then she saw him – not thirty yards away – she called out to him, and he turned.

Elliot, she said again when she reached him – they were barely a foot apart. She noticed his bloodshot eyes and knew he had been crying. Something in her chest ached.

What, he said, and he too, noticed her bloodshot eyes. When she didn't say anything, he let out a frustrated laugh and turned to walk away, but she grabbed his arm and shouted at him, would you just wait?

He shouted back, What for, Olivia, what the hell for? And she started to cry again, I don't know! Just… wait a second.

They stood there, soaking wet, in the middle of the street, staring at each other, for at least five minutes.

I said no, she said finally.

What? He asked, confused.

When Porter asked me to work with him again, I said no. Elliot could hear the tears as her voice wavered above the rain. That's why he was at my apartment – he was trying to convince me again. She didn't know why she needed to explain that to him – but she did.

I thought… he felt stupid, I thought you two were… you know.

She closed the space between them - barely inches now. Why would you even care if we were?

He was suddenly defensive, God Olivia, I don't know! You're the one that ran off to Oregon, you're one who left, you're the one who doesn't care!

She stepped back, is that what this is about? You're mad because I left? Or are you mad because I left with Porter?

No! He shouted, I'm mad because, he hesitated, and looked at the ground, and back into her eyes, which he noticed were filled with tears, I'm mad because you left me. In one quick movement he closed the distance between them, put one hand around her waist, pulled her against him, the other hand cupped her cheek, and he kissed her.

Almost instantly she pulled away, stepping back, and for a moment he thought she was going to hit him.

He watched her stop breathing, and he watched her think. He watched the tears fall – he knew the difference between them and the rain. He watched her raise a hand to the place on her lips where he had kissed her – (just to make sure it was real, she thought). He watched her as she considered everything – everything. He watched her as her make-up ran, her hair dripped, her clothes soaked, he watched her – the most beautiful he had ever seen her. He listened as she said something he didn't understand, I've got too much to lose.

Without warning she cupped his face and kissed him – hard. He immediately responded in kind, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her against him to close any sort of gap that might exist, and he slipped his tongue against hers. They simultaneously reacted to the contact – needing more of each other. They didn't even care about the rain anymore; it melted into them, around them, through them. She pulled away for a moment for air, and he missed her lips. She kissed him softly, her arms snaking their way around his neck – she liked the feel of his bottom lip between hers, and when they pulled back, she had tears in her eyes.

Promise me you won't screw this up, she whispered and he smiled. He kissed her again, slipping a hand under her wet shirt, feeling the curve of the back he'd only ever caught glimpses of before. If anyone's gonna screw this up, he said into the corner of her mouth, it'll be you.

She pulled back again, El I'm serious, I don't wanna mess this up. He could hear the urgency in her voice, and he stroked her cheek. They held their gaze for a moment before he wrapped an arm around her waist, and they walked back towards her apartment.

We won't mess this up, he whispered as he lowered her onto the bed, I swear, and he kissed her.

The End.