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Forbidden

As the workday comes to an end and everybody has already left, she remains. All sounds are blocked out other than the rapid scribbling from her pen and the beating of her heart. Her hair hangs over her shoulder, curtaining the right side of her face. The single desk light illuminates her thoughts on paper while her free hand embeds itself in her hair. Her brown eyes move with every single letter that appears on the delicate paper.

Tranquility. Bliss.

"Hey Liv, what are you doing?"

Exposed. Broken.

The voice behind her makes her flinch violently, causing her to slam the cover of the journal in a heartbeat. His eyebrows furrow.

It's been about three days since Sonya's death and Olivia seems to be the one having the hardest time recovering from it. She trips over her words when she speaks, barely eats, and comes to work exhausted. Not to mention, she's so damn fidgety.

She's never been like this since Sealview.

Why?

"Nothing," she says in a quick breath. She looks down at the black leather book.

"Nothing," she repeats in a slow sigh. She tucks her hair behind her ear and focuses her gaze up at him, "Did you need something?"

"We were going to O'Donovan's for a few drinks. Wanna come?"

"I, um, sure, yeah. Let me just run to the bathroom."

Out of all of them, she's the one who needs to drink the most.

She begins to stand but it's cut short by a huge, long, yawn. After rubbing her eyes, and blinking a few times, she begins to organize the papers underneath that little black book.

His eyes are fixated on it. He's seen it before. What was she writing that was so intimate?

She's told him everything before.

"Want me to just take you home? Maybe you should take those few days off Cragen offered you."

"No, I'm fine."

He's heard that one before.

She smoothes out her shirt and walks to the restroom. His eyes travel from her to the closed journal on her desk. He shouldn't read it. She'd kill him if he did.

So, he won't.

Maybe just a peek. It won't hurt.

He hears the door of the bathroom close and instantly he takes her seat. His fingers quickly flip through the ink filled pages. Her handwriting is neat; a very casual form of cursive. He knows this is wrong. He doesn't even know why he's doing this. If Olivia caught him, she'd probably shove the damn thing down his throat.

She's capable of doing that.

He can't stop himself. He hates secrets.

Here it is - today's date:

February 12, 2011

Three days ago, Fin and I found Sonya lying on the bathroom floor when we went looking for her at her AA meeting. She was bleeding out. I never expected to react like I did. I've seen plenty of scenarios similar to this one but there was something about Sonya's death that overwhelmed me. I don't know how it happened. Well, I know how but I don't know what I did wrong. If only I was a few minutes earlier, I could've stopped this. I could've saved her.

I could've just…I don't know.

The paper has rounded stains near the words; she was crying when she wrote this. He makes sure the coast is clear and continues reading.

Could it be because I saw so much of my mother in her? Maybe it was like letting my mother die for a second time. It's complicated, I guess. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't even work without the image of Sonya lying in a puddle of her own blood appearing in my head. When I got home the other night, I didn't want to do anything. I just wanted to sit on my couch for as long as it took until I could finally realize what happened. I almost did that; then I pictured Elliot looking at me, thinking how pathetic I was.

Oh, God. Elliot. Where do I begin?

I'm so confused. I don't even know how I feel. Is it wrong that I did it again with him in mind?

Elliot's eyebrows rise a little. Suddenly he hears the door open in the distance and the sound of Olivia's boots clicking against the floor. He wants to read the rest but the footsteps get closer. He closes the book and leans casually against her desk. He glances out the corner of his eye to see if she noticed him at her desk. She's probably too tired to process anything. She runs her fingers through her hair a little before taking the diary into her hands and putting it in her bag. His eyes follow the book's journey from the desk to the safety of her grey purse.

Now, he's hungry to read the rest. Is this the first entry she's written about him? What was that one even about? What do the others say?

He pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind, "Ready?" He asks.

She nods slowly and turns off her light.

Elliot and Olivia step out into the light flurry of snow and walk to car. His mind races with the possibilities of what could be in that journal. Maybe if he kept a diary, most of the entries would be about her. If they were and she found it, she'd probably be just as curious to see the rest.

As soon as they both sit in the car, Elliot sits for a few seconds. He turns to Olivia; she's already looking at him, waiting for him to start the car.

His hand reaches for the key and then stops – he turns back to her.

"I know it's hard, but just know that she died solving a case that she never gave up on for twenty-five years. I know I'll always remember her for her dedication."

"You never liked her. You'll remember her for a lot more than just that." Olivia says in a broken whisper and a dry laugh.

If only he could bring up the second part he read, the part about him, without being so obvious. Instead, he reaches over and comfortingly rubs the back of her neck.

God, he'd kiss her. He'd kiss her and tell her everything's okay.

She looks ahead for a few moments and then turns to look out the window. Elliot starts the car. The heat begins to flow out of the vents and the car begins the purr softly. The blanket-like heat and the smooth vibrations from the car cause Olivia to close her eyes.

Her bag sits vulnerably in her lap. The diary peeks out.

He knows it's forbidden.

But some of the best things are.