Author Note – To set the scene for this AU one shot where Elliot and Kathy never got back together and Eli was never born but the events of Swing happened regardless, takes place a few years later. The story switches between Elliot and Olivia's POV. Please read and review.

Disclaimer – I don't own, just borrowing.

Ride The Wave

"You never really know what's coming. A small wave, or maybe a big one. All you can really do is hope that when it comes, you can surf over it, instead of drown in its monstrosity." - Alysha Speer

Her toes sink into the damp grains of sand as she pushes her feet through the small dunes in front of her. She lifts them to rest on top of the ground, staring at the golden flecks which stick to her skin. She's spent most of her life in the city and while this isn't her first visit to the shore it's the first time in a long time since she's gone bare foot.

She feels Elliot's eyes on her back from where he stands inside the porch doors. She blocks out the conversation he's having with Kathleen, she doesn't want to intrude. She is intruding. She never came to the house before and now she feels like her presence is a burden in the wake of what's happened. Elliot spent too much time focusing on her rather than his family today. She grumbled it at him when they snuck a moment to themselves a few hours ago and his harshly whispered response has been on repeat in her head since. She had tried to suppress the irrepressible warmth spreading through her back then, feeling guilty for feeling joy on a day like today. Now she's given up trying to stop it.

'You are my family.'

She shakes her head; she should be concentrating on Elliot rather than ruminating on how this is affecting her and the memories it's stirred. The sun begins to descend over the horizon; the lower curve touches the water, sinking into its' depths. The tide is coming in and she can see the rock pools emerging from the waves only to be engulfed seconds later. Gulls circle and hover as they search for food. The smell of salt water refreshes her senses which are used to the harsh over-polluted air of Manhattan. Sitting here reminds her of nights in Oregon and sitting under the stars. It's peaceful with the right amount of distraction from the sounds of birds and waves softly rolling along the shore.

A shrill cry cuts through the harmony and Olivia turns to see Kathleen throw herself into Elliot's arms, her blonde hair lying on his shoulder, shaking as she sobs into his shirt. She had been the most distraught of his children, a never ending stream of tears rolling down her cheeks, not just during the service. She catches his eye, holds his steely gaze. It softens for the first time today, welling with tears he won't shed. He blinks a few times and the tears vanish. He's been strong and stoic in his grief. But in that moment she knew why he was desperately, furverently holding it together. His children were absorbed in their grief and he was being their father, consoling them when he would not accept consolation from anyone else.

….

"If it doesn't fit into a neat little box it scares the hell out of you."

His mother's words are as clear in his head as the day she said them. Back then he hadn't been able to stop the split second errant thought of his partner, and in the aftermath he had been too ashamed for making the association with their fledgling move from whatever they were to what they are now. Their relationship never fit into a neat little box and everything about it still scared the hell out of him. Right now, she was the only thing that made sense to him. She was taking herself out of this situation, giving him space he needed to deal with it without distraction. Only she wasn't a distraction, she keeps his mind focused.

She looks so peaceful sitting at the edge of the yard, where it meets the beach. He knows otherwise. She's detaching because she thinks she doesn't belong here. She thinks this would be easier for him if she wasn't there. It wouldn't be. He half expects her to take off down the beach and never come back. Hell, he wants to take off down the beach with her by his side.

His daughter sobs against his shirt and he presses a kiss to her forehead to calm her and murmurs reassurances to placate his troubled child. This has been harder on her than any of them. She was so much like his mother, not just because of their illness, but their view of the world, joyful and trusting. He was scared he would lose her to her grief.

Kathleen's tears seep through his shirt and the damp patch grows. He manoeuvre's them to the small couch in his mother's sun room. Kathleen moves with him and slumps against him when they sit. Her cries cut through him as he looks around the room. His mother's paintings hung on the wall and her sculptures littered her bookshelves. Amongst them he spies pictures his children had drawn when they were younger. His mother had kept hold of them over the years, obsessing over any creative flair they ever exhibited. She had done the same with him.

In the other room Elliot hears the last of the guests mulling around, saying their goodbyes as they left. He hoped they would be sympathetic enough towards his daughter's anguish to bypass this room all together. It may have been selfish of him but he didn't want to deal with his mother's friends offering their condolences again, he didn't know how to deal with them. Thankfully Kathy helped with the majority of it. He didn't know what he'd done to warrant his ex-wife's help today. Elliot knew she felt slighted after the divorce, as if all of her suspicions were confirmed when he told her about Olivia. Today it felt like none of that mattered.

Minutes pass and a lone guest dares to poke his head around the door. He spots Elliot comforting Kathleen and his eyes widen and he lifts his hand apologetically before ducking out again. Elliot kisses Kathleen's forehead again grateful she missed the entire exchange with the interloper.

Sun light still streams through the window and Elliot looks out towards the beach, his eyes automatically seeking Olivia to make sure she's still there. She is. Her knees are bent into her torso protectively, her arms loosely wrapped around them. His lips twitch unwittingly.

…

She continues to watch the ocean. Time passes and she doesn't keep track. The tide is coming in quickly but its' pattern remains the same. In, out, repeat. It has a calming influence on her troubled thoughts which stemmed from one person. To others it seemed as if his cold, detatched demeanour was a form of expressing his grief. Olivia knew better but at times she did find herself questioning it. Elliot may have had trouble accepting his mother's choices and her illness but he did love her. She understood that better than anyone.

Finding out about Bernadette had hurt. She could understand his reluctance to share his past; Elliot had been the only one she had voluntarily told about Serena and her conception. But she had felt deceived and wanted, hoped, her openness, albeit reluctant, would be reciprocated. Any resentment she felt passed a long time ago, maybe even during their conversation in the crib when he seemed so lost, silently asking for her help.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the footfalls approaching from behind. She knows who it is. She knew he would seek her out. He stops beside her. She doesn't look up.

….

"How's Kathleen?"

Elliot waits a beat before looking down at her. Her attention is still on the vast ocean in front of them. His eyes travel over her, taking in the black dress that is now soiled with sand, where the hem lies on her bent knees, along to her bare feet and flash of pale pink on her toes.

"Cried herself to sleep," Elliot mumbles as he sits next to her awkwardly leaving a gap between them; she thinks his children will hate her for sitting too close to him. Nothing could be further from the truth but there's no use trying to convince Olivia otherwise, especially with their mother in the house behind them. He wants to close what feels to him like a gaping chasm because she is the only one who has been able to calm him since his mother passed.

Elliot watches the waves for a moment; its' natural rhythm hypnotising. In, out, repeat. He glances at Olivia's face which is still trained on the sea then at her feet again. On impulse his fingers find his shoe laces and seconds later he is pulling his socks off and tucking them into his shoes. He never liked the sensation of sand against his feet and it's still unpleasant now but it serves a purpose and he is rewarded when Olivia looks away from the water and at his feet. A soft sigh escapes her and a smile flickers across her lips. She can't help but tease him and her toes wriggle in the sand. She knows he hates this. He meets her eyes and his grimace slips.

"She liked you," Elliot tells her without preamble.

….

"She only met me once," Olivia replies. There was no point in trying to pretend she never appealed to his mother for help with Kathleen over a year ago. In, out, repeat. "Did she know?"

It doesn't matter and it wouldn't change anything but she's curious if he and his mother discussed the aftermath of the divorce. His faith was so important to him, especially in the way it shaped his view of family and marriage. Before they met, Olivia assumed Bernadette instilled that in him; his father certainly hadn't. Maybe it was the offhanded way Bernadette spoke of her husband's infidelity but for some reason that notion was dispelled after that day in the small café. Maybe it was Elliot who pushed himself into his faith; let it comfort him as a way to focus on something other than the cracks in his parents' marriage.

"Does it matter?" He asks simply.

'You are my family.'

Her head tilts expectantly and his breath hitches. "I never told her but she knew."

She accepts his answer with silence. It's not satisfying and she's not surprised, they barely talked. Elliot never knew his mother was sick until the hospital called to tell him about the complications which happened while trying to remove the tumour from her colon. Olivia knew seconds after he lifted the phone to his ear. His back straightened and his face lost all emotion. Moments later he hung up his phone and stomped out of the apartment.

…..

"I hate it here," Elliot admits as he breaks her gaze. To him it was just something else which represented his mother's selfishness, how she abandoned him and his children after his father died. It felt like she was running away from him, not just his father's ghost.

"Then why have the wake here?"

"She would have wanted it to be here." In, out, repeat. "Thank you for today."

"You did the same for me," she shrugged dismissively, brushing it off as if it was nothing.

His face twists towards her. "This isn't tit for tat, Liv," he says harshly.

"I know," Olivia grinds out turning to him. "It's not, and I didn't mean it that way."

Elliot looks into her face, her eyes, so expressive yet guarded at the same time. The flare of anger dies and he nods in understanding. "You don't have to sit out here on your own."

"Maybe I like it out here," she says quietly. He knows she's trying to deflect from the conversation neither of them wants to have. He doesn't relent though, unwilling to leave her out here alone because he needs her with him. He continues to watch Olivia only to see her shut him out and tighten her arms around her knees and looks back to the waves. "I didn't want to make it harder for you."

"You make it easier."

She does, always has, even when their lines were blurring. She understood without him saying a word. They had never really talked about either of childhoods, not in detail anyway. She'd given him snippets and he knew there was more, things she never wanted to share. He never wanted to share. She needed to come to terms with her past and find answers that couldn't be found without divulging it. While his childhood influenced who he was and still influences his decisions, he never felt the need to resolve his issues with it. It was out of embarrassment more than anything. He knew it was hypocritical of him but getting out of home as early as he could was how he put it behind him and he didn't want to think about it again, let alone discuss it. His father was an asshole and Elliot does everything he can not to be him. His work has caused a rift with his children but Elliot is there for them when he can be. As a child he had been enthralled by his mother but he always knew there was something different about her. He grew older and as a teen became ashamed of it and of the spectacle she could be in front of his friends, he thought she was too selfish to consider anyone outside of what she wanted. Then when he was old enough to understand he felt too guilty for being ashamed to make amends with his estranged mother so he created the family he wanted to have as a child.

Elliot looks across the beach to the reeds where his mother insisted they make sandcastles. He remembers trying to get through to her as she envisioned the structure she wanted them to construct.

"What do you regret the most?" Olivia asks quietly.

He knows this is a conversation that will happen once, it'll only be offered once. Olivia obviously has a reason for asking. He thinks for a moment. "I regret that she thought I thought she was a burden. That I thought she was." He focuses on her face again and can see the understanding. Her bottom lip drops as if she's going to say something, but no words come out and she nods quickly to cover her sudden reticence. "What about you?"

…..

"I never said goodbye," she answers automatically.

"It was an accident and you shouldn't feel guilty about it," Elliot replies.

"You do," she counters and he nods. "But we can't change that."

"They wouldn't want us to dwell on it."

Olivia doesn't answer him, but in her heart she knows he's right. In the last years of her life Serena, in her lucid moments, seemed to be more bothered by Olivia's reaction to the attack rather than her own, she wanted her to be at peace. She doesn't know if that will ever happen. She wonders if that's what Bernadette was trying to find when she moved here, something to calm her. She wonders if Elliot will ever understand that.

Her back is beginning to hurt from being hunched over. She needs to stretch. Lifting her arms above her head, she pushes her feet through the sand and she holds the position, exposing her body and the tiny bump pushes against her dress. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Elliot's gaze drop to it naturally, protectively. Olivia relaxes and drops her arms, not bothering to cover the pregnancy. He lifts his eyes to hers.

'You are my family.'

"I don't want to name her Bernadette or Serena, nothing of the past," Olivia states firmly but not without feeling.

He nods then his thoughtful expression starts to slip into a smirk. "She? Know something I don't?"

"Or he," Olivia amends with a duck of her head and shoots him what she hopes appropriates an enigmatic smile as her hand curls over her stomach, stroking it lightly.

Elliot finally gives into the urge and reaches out to pull her into him, his lips brushing her hairline. "Or he," Elliot agrees.

"We always see our worst selves. Our most vulnerable selves. We need someone else to get close enough to tell us we're wrong. Someone we trust." - David Levithan, Naomi and Ely's No Kiss Lists