Chapter Text
She can’t believe she’s at a pool hall and that she let them talk her into this.
Amanda has the neck of her beer bottle dangling precariously between her index and middle finger, but she doesn’t seem concerned at all. She’s clearly in her element, and even Sonny, out of his usual heavily starched suit and hair gelled to oblivion, seems comfortable. He’s laughing as Amanda whispers something in his ear, and Olivia quickly averts her eyes, feeling like she’s intruding on an intimate moment.
She smiles to herself, thinking I knew it for the 100th time in the past week, and looks down at her phone. Noah is at the weekend sitter’s, and it’s a good situation. The sitter has twins that are around his age, and he loves going over there. But she still feels guilty. Her long work hours make her feel like any free time she has should be spent with her son, but she also knows she can’t just be a mother and a cop.
She takes a sip of her red wine (Is she seriously drinking red wine at a pool hall?) as she hears her phone vibrate against the surface of the heavily lacquered and extremely sticky round cocktail table. She looks down and sees she’s gotten a text message. She swipes left and taps View with her finger. It’s a voice iMessage. And it’s from Elliot.
That’s weird, she thinks. She’s never gotten a voice iMessage from – well – anyone, let alone Elliot. And it’s two minutes long.
She holds the bottom end of her phone up to her ear and presses the Play button. She thinks she hears someone breathing, heavily. Well, maybe? She can’t be sure. The pool hall is loud, too many people talking and music blaring from the jukebox, so she’s straining to listen. She holds the speaker closer to her ear and then –
“Hey, Liv. Your turn,” she hears Amanda call. She looks up and the detective is smiling widely. Her arm is outstretched, holding a cue stick towards her. Sonny is standing right behind Amanda, his hand grasping her firmly at the waist. He’s smiling like a fool, and Olivia rolls her eyes, but its accompanied by a sincere grin. They’re annoying in the sweetest possible way, and she really is happy for them.
Olivia swings her legs to the right and lowers herself off the stool. She selects Keep underneath the voice message before sliding her phone into her back pocket. Walking towards Amanda, she takes the cue from her hand. “Alright, you two,” she says. “Let me show you what a sharper looks like.”
Amanda snickers.
“Counselor, how ‘bout a round of beers and Patron over here? Let’s celebrate,” Olivia says, as she dramatically positions herself and aligns her vision center with the cue ball.
Sonny lifts an eyebrow, smiles, and looks at Amanda, who just shrugs her shoulders and laughs.
“Alright, Cap,” he says. He leaves them to place the order, hearing Olivia loudly call her shot: “Red. Left corner pocket.”
The night is still young, and the message from Elliot is temporarily forgotten.
“Well, I have to say,” Sonny muses, nursing a beer. “Still waiting for Hustler Liv to make an appearance and take me for all my money, but I’m actually impressed. You're as close to a shortstop as it gets.”
Olivia laughs. “Well, a few more ounces of that tequila and I could probably win a world tournament, but,” she clasps a hand over her mouth and doubles over, feigning nausea. “I'd also probably have to do it seated.”
“And I think they prefer competitors to be sober at those things - and, you know, vertical," Amanda adds, clearly enjoying her captain's remarkably light and playful disposition.
“That’s probably true. Oh well,” Olivia shrugs. “Guys, this has been a really good time. I’m glad I decided to join you. I’m just sorry Fin and Phoebe couldn’t be here to celebrate with us. But I know they’re really happy for you, and I am too,” she says.
Sonny pulls Amanda closer and they both smile at her. “Thanks, Liv. Really,” Sonny answers. “Your support means so much to us.”
“I’m glad,” she says. “And I needed this myself, so thank you. But I think I’m going to call it a night. Best stop while I’m ahead or tomorrow morning will be painful and then I may not be so happy for you anymore,” she says playfully.
“You’re probably right. We have two little girls who will definitely be calling right when the sun rises, and if we keep this up, we won’t be happy for us either,” Amanda replies, slightly emphasizing the we have. Olivia notices.
The three of them rack their cue sticks and exit the pool hall. They exchange goodbyes while they hail separate cabs. As Olivia gets into hers, she slides her phone out of her pocket and thinks it’s strange that it hasn’t vibrated even once in hours, and even more surprised that she hasn’t really thought about it all night. How much did she drink?
She taps her screen.
Nothing.
She taps it again.
Still nothing.
She presses the power button, and shit. That’s why. Her phone is dead.
How is it dead? she thinks. She could have sworn it was fully charged.
Damnit. She feels a flutter of momentary panic, hoping she hasn’t missed anything important. Noah? Work? Ugh.
She takes a deep breath to settle herself and spots her building up ahead.
It’s fine. Everything is fine. She’ll be up in her apartment and her phone will be charged soon. She’s also instantly decided it’s time for a new phone, and that from now on, she’s carrying that stupid portable NYPD-branded power bank that’s been sitting in her desk drawer for over a year.
She kind of misses landlines. That thought makes her feel momentarily old and deserving of an "okay boomer" reaction, as Noah would say. She really shouldn't let her kid on Tik Tok. Would he even know how to work a landline? She shakes her head and marvels, still, at how much has changed over the years.
She’s showered and moisturized and not quite sobered up, but her cell phone has powered back on. She hears her phone as it starts vibrating. Buzz. And then another. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz
She’s panics. OH MY GOD. What’s wrong?
She looks at the screen and swallows thickly.
Text Messages
23 Notifications
Phone
12 Notifications
All from Elliot Stabler. 12 missed calls but no voice mails. 23 text messages. What the hell? She opens up his message window and see the last one first: Olivia, PLEASE.
She scrolls up to go to the beginning of all his texts from the evening. The first is the voice iMessage. Then –
Liv. That was a mistake. Don’t open that.
***
Liv? Did you get my text??
***
Please let me know you got my text!!
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LIV!!***
Oh my god, Olivia. Please don’t listen to that voice message!
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Shit, Liv. It’s gone from my phone. I don't see it. Is it still on yours? Please say no.
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Liv. Please answer me!
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Shit, Liv. I just checked on Google and I guess its gone from my phone after a few minutes but stays on yours for 2 minutes after you’ve listened to it. But I don't know??
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Please tell me you didn’t listen. Olivia.
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I wish you had READ receipts on your phone!! Are these even going through?
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You’re mad. I bet you are mad. I’m sorry. Where are you?!!
***
I wish I could ask my kids or Jet about this!! I hate these stupid phones.
And eleven other messages, each one more desperate than the last. What the fuck, she thinks. What the fuck is going on? She scrolls back up to the voice iMessage and stares. What doesn’t he want her to hear? So, of course, she does what Olivia does.
She presses play.