Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Staying true to his word is easy on the job. Less so in Detective Elliot Stabler’s personal life.

His former partner, Captain Olivia Benson, knows that better than anyone.

She has certainly seen it up close. Dealt with the realities when it affected his ability to work a case objectively or open up to her when he was in a free-fall.

Now with Richard Wheatley presumed dead and things stabilized at home with Eli, the detective wants to do more. Keep a promise that he made when everything was uncertain.

When Elliot was terrified of all that he still stood to lose.

That is why he is standing outside Olivia’s apartment. Staring at a door that he has yet to raise his fist to knock on, because he knows he is out of bounds. He did not call her first. That is less important for her, but for Noah’s benefit.

Her son, Elliot thinks.

It still amazes Elliot. Not that Olivia is a mother, but the fact that she finally got everything that she wanted. She has the job and a chosen family in her squad who are there for her.

Elliot wasn’t around to see any of it happen.

He is too chicken-shit. Turning on his heel, Elliot is about to walk back down the hall when the door to the apartment opens. He freezes.

“Elliot.”

Olivia stands there, clearly taken aback. Elliot stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Hey.”

“Yeah … hi,” Olivia says, slowly. “Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“Nothing bad.” Elliot opens his mouth and then hesitates. “Sorry. I sort of got in my head about coming here, but I should’ve called. It won’t happen …”

“Elliot?”

The man exhales heavily and meets her eye.

“Yeah?”

Olivia’s expression is inscrutable.

“Do you want to come inside?”

***

Olivia is only gone for a minute.

As she takes the trash down the hall, Elliot gets an opportunity to look around the apartment. He has visited before, obviously, but the experience is a lot crisper now that he is completely sober.

His eyes fall on one of the photos of Olivia and Noah. They are sitting on a picnic blanket in Central Park. Noah must be five years old in the photo. Both mother and son are smiling so brightly, it is almost hard for Elliot to look at without feeling like he is interrupting something.

Even as the door closes, Elliot continues staring at the photo.

“Looks like a nice day,” Elliot remarks.

“It was,” Olivia replies, following his gaze. “Mostly. He threw a temper tantrum fifteen minutes later, so I cut the day short.”

Dryly, Elliot replies, “I’m sure he had his reasons.”

“Not being allowed to have ice cream at eleven in the morning?”

“It was hot.”

The adults turn and see a pouting Noah. He seems to have emerged from his bedroom.

“I wasn’t that bad,” he adds as his mother approaches him.

Olivia ruffles her son’s hair with a smile.

“You were a little terror,” Olivia says, fondly. She kisses the top of his head. “My little terror.”

Noah wiggles out of her grasp with an exasperated look. Elliot recognizes that look all too well from when his own kids were Noah’s age and slightly older.

“Hey, man,” Elliot says.

Noah approaches him and the pair clap hands in greeting.

“Hi,” Noah says. He looks at his mother. “Did you call Elliot as backup?”

Olivia huffs in amusement.

“I did not,” she replies.

“Backup?” Elliot questions.

Glancing at him, Olivia briefly hesitates. Not long enough for Noah to pick up on it, but it is noticeable as someone who became intimately aware of all her emotional and facial cues.

It’s why they made such good partners.

And destructive ones.

“Noah is interviewing me for an oral history assignment,” Olivia says. “One that requires a detailed timeline of my life.”

There it is. The reason why something shifted behind Olivia’s eyes.

“Shouldn’t take long,” Elliot quips. “You’re, what? Thirty?”

Olivia’s laughter is sharp.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“Can I ask Elliot questions?” Noah asks, suddenly. “About when you were partners?”

“Oh, I …” Olivia stammers. “We shouldn’t put him on the spot like that. He just came by …”

The sentence ends there since Elliot still hasn’t explained his unplanned presence.

“I don’t mind,” Elliot says, easily. Olivia glances at him. “With your mom’s approval.”

“Please, Mom?” Noah pleads.

Olivia looks from her son to her former partner. Eventually, she acquiesces. Not before shooting Elliot a warning look. The message is clear.

Tread lightly.

***

“You really found a girl by talking with her for hours on the phone?”

Noah’s eyes are wide as he looks at Olivia in amazement. It makes Elliot smile. His own eyes find his partner’s, but she shifts hers down to the countertop.

“It was a team effort,” Olivia murmurs.

“Your mom didn’t give up,” Elliot contradicts. “Everyone I spoke to when I got back said the same thing. She believed the victim. Because that’s what she does.”

Olivia meets his eye for longer that time. Something passes between them — what, exactly, isn’t for Elliot to determine — but it’s fleeting. By necessity.

“How long were you partners?” Noah asks.

Elliot rolls his lips in contemplation as he looks questioningly at Olivia.

“You joined SVU in … Spring of ‘98?” he confirms.

“God,” Olivia groans. She nods. “So thirteen years. Give or take.”

“Was Elliot your best partner?” Noah asks.

“That’s inappropriate,” Olivia says, sternly. Noah frowns. “But we can reframe it. Every partner brought something unique to the partnership. Including Elliot.”

“Like, what?”

Elliot leans forward with his arms on the table. He is interested to hear her response. She can tell, too, if the sudden thinness of her lips is an indicator.

“No theory or hunch was off-limits,” Olivia says. “When I joined SVU, there were times I held back. When I felt something in my gut but didn’t know if it was the right time for me to say it.”

“In those days, it was mostly men in the squad room,” Olivia explains as Noah types quickly on his ChromeBook. “Detective Munch and Captain Cragen — they both had years on the job. It’s intimidating when you’re trying to fit in.”

Noah looks up from his screen with new interest.

“Elliot had plenty of experience, but didn’t steamroll me. Usually.”

Olivia’s lip quirks. Elliot leans back and crosses his arms with an arched brow.

“We didn’t always agree. There were times we disagreed vocally,” Olivia amends. “But it was always from the same place of wanting justice. So, if nothing else, we could fall back on that.”

Noah resumes typing as the adults sit in silence.

Elliot wonders how much of that is Olivia’s honest-to-God perception of those days and what is up to interpretation. He knows he wasn’t easy to work with, especially when she first came into the squad room. He would take off running and expect her to keep up, which she always did.

It wasn’t easy later either when his personal life bled into the work. She would try to get him to talk about it, but he would either shut her out or shut her down hard.

It wasn’t personal while being undeniably personal.

“Alright,” Olivia says, interrupting his thoughts. “Shower and bed, Noah.”

“But I still have work to do,” Noah protests.

“You can do some more,” Olivia says, patiently, “once you’re ready for bed. It’s already getting late. Say goodnight and thank-you to Elliot.”

Begrudgingly, Noah says, “Thanks, Elliot.”

“Any time, kid,” Elliot says, winking at him.

Noah smiles slightly before closing the cover on his screen and walking out of the room. Elliot watches as Olivia tracks Noah’s movements out of the dining room.

“You look tense as hell.”

Worriedly, Olivia turns and says, “Do I?” Elliot regrets his words. “Do you think he could tell?”

“I can’t say for sure,” Elliot concedes, “but I’ve known you since the start of time. And I’m an adult. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Olivia runs her fingers over her eyebrows.

Before Elliot can second-guess himself, he stands from his seat at the table. He pulls the chair back as an invitation.

“Come here,” he requests.

Olivia furrows her brow in confusion. Elliot nods at the chair again and, eventually, she obliges. Once she sits down, he places his hands on her shoulders.

The tension deepens.

“May I?” he asks. Olivia takes a slightly shaky breath. She nods. “I need words, Liv.”

That gets a different reaction. Olivia looks sideways and up at him like she is seeing him for the first time. Not just in many years. Possibly, ever.

“Yes,” Olivia murmurs. “Thank you.”

Elliot hums. He begins kneading the two muscles on either side of Olivia’s neck, next to her shoulders. He applies slight pressure, then squeezes harder.

The effect is instantaneous. Elliot feels the knots loosen and is given further confirmation by the gasp that slips past Olivia’s lips. She tenses again.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Elliot encourages. “The point is for it to feel good.”

For her, anyway. Elliot deserves a healthy dose of shame for how that noise all-but electrocuted him from the inside-out.

Rather than dwell on it, Elliot works on the back of Olivia’s neck. He instructs Olivia to lean her head forward. He supports her forehead firmly with one of his hands so that her neck muscles relax. Using the thumb and the first finger of his opposite hand, Elliot makes tiny circles at the base of her skull.

“You’re entirely too good at this.”

Olivia’s words come out almost reminiscent of a whimper.

“What can I say?” Elliot says. “Something else to bring to the partnership.”

He doesn’t have time to worry if he overstepped. Olivia’s laughter is breathless but genuine. He gently squeezes the back of her neck before bringing her head back up to its normal position.

Elliot continues working on her shoulders for a little while longer until he is satisfied that she is sufficiently relaxed. At least more than when Noah’s interview ended.

“On-the-house,” Elliot quips.

Olivia laughs and opens her eyes. She rolls her neck in a full circle.

“Thank you,” she says. “I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”

“You should get someone who really knows what they’re doing to take care of it once in a while,” Elliot suggests. “Especially now that you’re some big-shot captain hunched over a desk all day.”

“Hey,” Olivia protests. “I’ll have you know that I refuse to be chained to my desk.”

“I find that incredibly easy to believe,” Elliot says with a smirk.

Olivia rolls her eyes. Then, her eyes turn inquisitive.

“You didn’t come over here to help my son with his Social Studies assignment,” she reasons. “What’s really going on?”

“I wanted to see you,” Elliot says. Olivia blinks. “Not just when we’re overlapping on a case or when I’m in crisis. Really spend some time getting back … finding a new normal.”

It isn’t the same. It can’t be and, what’s more, Elliot doesn’t want things to be as they were when he and Olivia were strictly partners. He knows he wants more. He knows she wants more. Elliot just doesn’t know how to bridge that gap.

But he isn’t going to stop trying.

Olivia hasn’t responded, but she is smiling softly at him. It affects Elliot every bit as much as her touch does. Her chocolate brown eyes have always struck him right to his core.

“Mom!” Noah calls from the other room.

The bubble bursts.

“Yes?” Olivia responds.

A smile still plays on her lips, but now it is teasing.

Evil, Elliot thinks.

Elliot gives her a severe look, which only serves to amuse Olivia further.

“Can you grab the photo album from the hall closet?”

“Right,” Olivia mutters. Louder, she replies, “Yeah. One second, sweetheart.”

Olivia opens her mouth to speak when her phone starts ringing. She tilts her head back and stares at the ceiling in exasperation.

“Answer it,” Elliot chuckles. “Hall closet?”

“Yeah,” Olivia says with a grateful smile. “There are a few. He needs the one with the gold lettering on the front. I’ll be right back.”

Olivia passes him and squeezes his arm in thanks.

Yep, Elliot thinks as his chest tightens. Every damn time.

Olivia’s phantom touch to his arm follows Elliot down the hall. He opens the closet and surveys the contents for a few seconds. He spots several thick albums on a shelf and reaches for them.

It’s only due to his fast reflexes that Elliot dodges one that slips from his grasp and just misses his head. It lands with a thud on the floor.

“What happened?” Noah says.

He appears in the doorway, freshly showered and looking confused. Elliot grunts.

“Your mom got a call and I nearly brained myself.” Noah snorts. “This one’s yours.”

“Thanks,” Noah laughs.

Elliot reaches down to pick up the fallen album. He notices that a photo has slipped out from it. Not looking too closely, he turns it over and is prepared to put it back into the album.

Until one person in it catches his eye. He feels his heart skip a beat.

Not in the same way as before.

Elliot knows that it is no exaggeration when people describe blood rushing in their ears at their most panicked or high-pressure moments. How the fight or flight instinct kicks into overdrive. It has happened more times in Elliot’s career and personal life than he can count.

Now is no exception.

“That’s an old photo.”

Elliot barely registers Noah’s voice. All he hears are angry alarms going off in his head. Disbelief and what he considers a healthy and justifiable dose of horror courses through his veins.

“When was this?” Elliot hears himself ask.

“I was little,” Noah replies. “All I really remember was the plane ride and flashes of memories. You … You’re gonna tear it.”

Elliot loosens his grip on the photo. Noah takes it carefully from him. Elliot is sure the boy is studying the former’s reaction, but Elliot doesn’t have the ability to rein it in right now.

Not when, moments ago, he was holding a photo of Olivia and Ed Tucker in Paris.

“Your mom should be back in soon.”

Elliot’s entire body has kicked into auto-pilot.

I need to get out of here, he thinks. Before I say something I can’t take back.

Elliot turns on his heel and walks purposefully toward the living room. He reaches for the door handle, but it turns and the door opens for him.

“Oh,” Olivia says in surprise. “Sorry. It took longer than I …”

Elliot blows past her before Olivia can finish the thought.

He hears Olivia call his name. The apartment door closes distantly and footsteps follow him.

Liv and Tucker, he repeats in his head. Liv and that fucking …

“Elliot.”

Olivia grabs his arm before he can reach the elevator. She tries to turn him, but he wrenches it from her grasp. He turns to her with fire in his eyes. Elliot is so visibly angry that Olivia actually recoils in shock.

“What’s going on?” Olivia asks. “Did something happen? Did you get a call about a case?”

“No,” Elliot says through gritted teeth.

He calls the elevator. Olivia steps in his line of sight so that he cannot ignore her.

“What’s going on?” she repeats. “Talk to me, Elliot.”

That sets something off in him.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” Elliot demands.

Uncomprehending, she asks, “Tell you, what?”

Elliot’s eyes are downright cold.

“About Paris.”

Olivia always did have a good Poker face, but not when it involves someone that matters. Not when it involves matters of the heart. Part of Elliot had hoped, with no reasonable expectation, that she wouldn’t flinch. That she wouldn’t react in any noticeable way to a mention of that city.

If it was that long ago, maybe it wouldn’t mean any single thing to her.

But Elliot also knows better. He remembers their conversation in the hospital lounge.

“Do you want to know my dating history, Detective?”

“You’re being evasive.”

“There was one who I thought I might actually …” Olivia pauses. “But I wasn’t ready. And then … and then Ed died.”

“Liv, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Well?” Elliot says, harshly. “Is it up to me to fill in the blanks?”

“Elliot,” Olivia warns him.

Her eyes are shinier than before. Clearly full of pain.

“And then Ed died.”

“Liv, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

It has to be some sort of cosmic joke on him.

Olivia takes a shuddery breath before setting her jaw. She looks up and meets his eye.

“I did tell you.”

Elliot’s laughter is high and cold. Olivia looks as though he struck her.

“No, you didn’t,” Elliot accuses her. “If you had, I’d …”

“You’d, what?” Olivia demands. Her eyes hold just as much pain as before, but now they flash with anger. “You’d have been relieved?”

Elliot stares at her in disbelief.

“What the … No,” he hisses.

“You asked who I’d been with in those ten years,” Olivia says, jerking her arm out for emphasis. “Not that you had any right.”

“Seeing anyone?”

“Seriously?”

“Too awkward?”

“Little bit.”

“I told you about the relationship that was the most significant,” Olivia says. Her voice rises in volume. “The one that …” Her voice cracks. “… That I let go.”

“It shouldn’t have begun,” Elliot snaps. “You’re not an idiot! You saw how Tucker tried time and time again to torpedo our careers. Yours and mine. Not to mention railroading the squad.”

“I know all that!” Olivia shouts. “You don’t think it was something I had to reconcile daily?”

Olivia lowers her voice and leans forward. Her eyes are more intense than Elliot has seen them in quite some time.

Maybe ever, he realizes.

“You think I didn’t have my own doubts when things started up between me and him?”

“I really wouldn’t know.” Elliot’s mouth is running ahead of his brain. “I’ve never been so hard-up that I’ve fallen into bed with the enemy.”

Elliot regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. Not because he doesn’t feel that way, but because of how they land on Olivia. Despite his anger and feelings of betrayal, Elliot hates when he hurts her.

That’s all you do, the voice in his head says.

It sounds like Kathy. Which makes Olivia’s next words that much worse.

“We both know that’s a damn lie.”

The elevator finally dings and the doors open. Olivia steps backward, but Elliot remains rooted to the spot. He stares at the woman in front of him like he has never seen her before.

“I’ve never knowingly been with someone who hurt the people I claimed to care about.”

Olivia’s expression shutters.

“Congratulations,” Olivia says, coldly. Elliot inwardly winces. “We’re done here.”

Olivia turns around and walks toward the apartment.

“Meaning, what?” Elliot calls after her.

Olivia opens the door. She doesn’t offer him any response.

Just the sound of the door slamming behind her.

Chapter Text

Olivia wonders if she looks as awful as she feels.

She didn’t sleep at all last night. Noah had asked what happened when she came back into the apartment, but she just told him to finish up his work for the night and go straight to bed.

Olivia did the same. That is how she ends up coming into work with puffy eyes and a raging headache that no amount of concealer or painkillers can resolve.

Not that she is interested in dulling the pain. If it weren’t for the fact that she has to be on top of her work, she’d gladly keep the headache as a reminder of why she does not want to see Elliot Stabler for the foreseeable future.

If ever again.

“Damn,” Fin says as she crosses the squad room.

Olivia gives him an unimpressed look, but she doesn’t dignify his concern with a response. She is sure that he is locking eyes with Amanda and Carisi behind her back, but Olivia cannot bring herself to care.

Fucking Stabler, she thinks.

Olivia slams her purse down on the desk. It sends several papers fluttering and upends a case of pens. Olivia groans and collapses angrily into her chair.

Which is precisely when a head appears in the doorway.

“Rough morning?”

“Get in here,” Olivia says, sharply. Amanda obliges while she adds, “Close the door.”

Amanda does that as well. She wanders over to the chair opposite of Olivia’s desk.

“What happened?” Amanda asks with a worried expression.

Olivia presses her lips into a firm line.

“The short version,” Olivia begins. “Elliot found out who ‘Ed’ was.”

Amanda’s mouth falls into an “O” shape. She lowers herself into the seat.

“How?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Olivia says. “He wouldn’t have been any less of an asshole if I had told him.”

“Liv,” Amanda says, slowly. She leans forward and rests her forearms just above her knees. “What’d he say to you?”

Olivia’s jaw aches. She blinks several times and stares out the window. Amanda doesn’t press her for an immediate answer. She just waits, which Olivia immensely appreciates.

“You think I didn’t have my own doubts when things started up between me and him?”

“I really wouldn’t know.” Elliot’s mouth is running ahead of his brain. “I’ve never been so hard-up that I’ve fallen into bed with the enemy.”

“That dick,” Amanda says, furiously.

Yeah, Olivia distantly thinks.

Her eyes remain fixed on the window.

“Liv, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either,” Amanda points out. “You do know that?”

Olivia looks at Amanda with a wry smile.

“Stabler’s not the first to take exception to mine and Ed’s relationship,” she acknowledges. “There were a lot of opinions. Ones that I understood even when I ignored them.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t get an opinion,” Amanda says, matter-of-factly.

“He and Tucker had a bad history.”

“So do a lot of people. That’s fucking life,” Amanda says. “I’ll be the first to admit I wasn’t a fan. I was never gonna be. But I came to accept what he meant to you. Not to mention what he meant to you and Noah. He became …”

Amanda trails off, but Olivia manages to finish the thought.

“Family,” she says, matter-of-factly. “We were a family. We still could’ve been one.”

Amanda’s eyes turn sympathetic, but there is something else in them.

Caution.

“Don’t go down that path.”

How can I not? Olivia wonders.

“To the point I was trying to make,” Amanda rushes ahead. “Stabler left. He did. He left, Liv. He forfeited the right to pass any judgment on your choices or make proclamations on who should be in your life.”

When Olivia doesn’t respond, Amanda adds, “Please tell me you know that.”

“Intellectually,” Olivia confirms. “Logically. Don’t worry,” she says. “I wasn’t so understanding when we had words last night.”

“I’ve never knowingly been with someone who hurt the people I claimed to care about.”

Olivia’s expression shutters.

“Congratulations,” Olivia says, coldly. Elliot inwardly winces. “We’re done here.”

“Proud of you,” Amanda says.

Her tone is light and slightly teasing, but Olivia hears Amanda’s sincerity.

Either way, Olivia doesn’t crack a smile. She isn’t required to respond either, because Fin opens the door to the office without knocking. He only does that when it’s go-time.

“Battery Park, missing child.”

The women are out of their seats before the words can take up space in the crowded office.

***

Melancholy mixed with relief.

That is what someone might see in Olivia’s eyes as she watches two previously frantic parents reunite with their three-year-old daughter. Mercifully, the girl appears physically unharmed. She is more shaken by all the chaos surrounding her.

Olivia watches as she lies on a gurney. Her parents pepper her with kisses and the nearby news reporters clamor to cover the story.

“Captain Benson!” someone from the press pool shouts.

Olivia turns distractedly and looks at the pool. Their microphones and cameras turn on her.

“Is the little girl going to be okay?”

Olivia glances at the family. They are now loaded into an ambulance. The doors shut behind them with a resounding thud.

“She is safe and back home with her family,” Olivia tells the reporters. “That is always the desired outcome. That’s all at this time.”

“Captain,” another reporter begins.

“You heard her,” Fin says, appearing on her right. “Go home to your own families.”

Fin follows her away from the crowd. Olivia snorts darkly when she registers his words.

“Wish I could still get away with saying shit like that,” she mutters under her breath.

“That’s why you keep me around,” Fin quips. “I keep it real. Your very own Anger Translator.”

“That’s a throwback,” Olivia says, cracking a smile. “I’m not angry, though. Relieved.”

“Maybe not angry about this.”

Olivia turns and scrutinizes Fin.

“What did Rollins tell you?”

“Nothing,” Fin says, firmly. He leans forward. “I know you. My Stabler-pulled-some-bullshit radar went off the charts the second you walked into the squad room.”

Olivia opens her mouth to respond, but she finds that she doesn’t have any words.

Fin understands. He slowly nods.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Olivia asks.

“To pretend like it’s the good old days.”

Which is how the two friends end up nursing drinks in a bar. Well, Fin nurses his drink before switching to diet soda. He makes sure that her drinks keep flowing as the night drags onward.

Olivia gradually loses track despite telling herself that she will just nurse one. Or two.

“This is nothing like the good old days,” Olivia drawls. “You covering more than one round.”

“Hey,” Fin scolds. Olivia smirks around the rim of her drink. “I was the low-man on the totem pole, barely scraping by. Munch claimed alimony kept him by the nads. Stabler had a fucking litter back home. You …”

“Had myself.” Olivia raises her glass in pseudo-cheers. “I remember it well.”

“I was gonna say, you were the responsible one,” Fin emphasizes. Eyes dancing, he adds, “Now you’re the Mother Hen.”

“Mother Hen …” Olivia repeats, slower. “Mother …” She lets out a cackle. “Mother Hen-son.”

Olivia laughs harder and Fin’s eyes fill with amusement.

“Don’t remember the last time I saw you laugh so hard.”

“Don’t remember the last time I got laid,” Olivia blurts out. “Doesn’t mean I forgot how.”

Loudly, so he can be heard over the music, Fin gets the bartender’s attention.

“She’s cut off.”

The bartender gives him a you-got-it symbol. Olivia giggles into her hand. She rests her chin on her palm and smiles absentmindedly at the bartender. The man winks in response.

“Hey.” Fin snaps his fingers in front of her. Olivia blinks and looks at him. “Not happening.”

“Yes, Captain,” Olivia mocks. “Wait …” She gives him a pointed look. “That’s me.”

“Alright. Real talk,” Fin says. He sits up straighter and waits until Olivia attempts to do the same. “You’re good and liquored up. What happened between you and Stabler?”

Possessing an air of boredom, Olivia replies:

“Found out about me and Ed.”

When Fin doesn’t respond, Olivia glances meaningfully at him. Fin exhales.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Olivia suddenly doesn’t feel as loose or light as before. Her earlier anger is compounded by the alcohol, which is making her head cloudy. The cloudiness, in turn, makes her more aggravated since it is harder to keep track of all her thoughts and emotions.

“You were there,” Olivia suddenly says. She squints at Fin. “Amanda was only there for some of it. Not the worst of our relationship with Tucker and IAB.”

“All true.” Fin hesitates. “What’s your point?”

“Did you think so, too?”

Reluctantly, Fin asks, “Did I think, what?”

Olivia looks at her glass. She finishes the remaining liquor with one quick swig. When she puts the glass down, she meets Fin’s eye.

“That I was so desperate, I fell into bed with the enemy.”

Even in her drunken state, there is no missing the way that Fin’s eyes flash.

“That jealous piece-of-shit,” Fin curses.

Olivia scoffs. She shakes her head.

“Liv.” Olivia stares at the bartop. “Liv, look at me.”

Olivia purses her lips. She obliges, but not before making sure that her emotions are in check.

“You deserve to be happy.” Her jaw twitches. “You and Tucker were that. That isn’t wrong.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that,” Olivia snaps. Fin leans back and waits for her to continue. “I know we were happy. And I don’t know what to do with that, because he …”

He knew what he was going to do when we said, ‘Goodbye,’ she finishes in her head.

Olivia feels guilty for the anger that she feels, but it’s there. Even with her years of therapy and countless discussions on the topic, Olivia feels as angry now as she did after the shock abated.

“Elliot knows I lost Ed.”

Fin stares at her. When she doesn’t continue, he asks, “Does he know how?”

Olivia shrugs. Then, she shakes her head.

“Don’t know if he ever read about Tucker. Or has since last night,” Olivia amends. “Doesn’t really matter. It’s not like it’d change anything.”

Olivia rotates the empty glass in her hand.

“I know this has been stressful and everything,” Ed says, carefully. “I thought we could take it easy tonight.”

“Oh, okay,” Olivia immediately agrees. “I thought we were celebrating.”

“Oh, we are. It’s just …”

Understanding washes over Olivia. Understanding and appreciation.

Ed isn’t accusing her of having a problem. He is making sure that she knows she isn’t alone. That there are a lot of ways to cope, some more destructive than others, but they have each other to lean on right now.

“I get it,” she says. “You’re just looking out for me.”

“Always.”

Gently, Fin prods her with:

“What’re you thinking?”

Olivia shakes her head. Next, she looks closely at her oldest friend. The one man who has truly remained a constant in her life. Who has always had her back.

She smiles shakily at Fin before reaching out to squeeze his hand.

“You know you’re my best friend?”

“Eugh, Liv,” Fin groans, clearly uncomfortable. Olivia’s laughter is also shaky. “Don’t fucking … Fuck off.”

Olivia pats Fin’s hand before releasing it.

Her smile softens when she sees him discreetly scratch the corner of his eye.

***

Olivia stumbles out of the elevator and bursts out laughing when Fin steadies her.

“You’re steady on your feet and your nickname is something fish have,” Olivia slurs. “Tell me how that makes sense.”

“None of what you just said makes sense,” Fin snorts. “It’s fine. I’ll remind you tomorrow.”

“Because you’ve … got my back.”

The conviction in Olivia’s voice is undercut by a hiccup.

“First, last, always,” Fin confirms.

They round the corner. Olivia stares at her feet, admiring how they dance along the carpeted corridor. Until …

“What happened to her?” a voice asks, sharply.

Olivia tenses.

“Go home, man,” Fin says, but not before Olivia asks, “Why are you here?”

Elliot’s body language is rigid. His eyes are locked on Fin’s hands on her shoulders.

“That jealous piece-of-shit.”

Olivia rolls her eyes. Whether it’s at the memory or the current situation, she is unsure.

“Blowing off steam,” she says.

Did he ask a question? Olivia tries to remember.

“The missing child case.” She furrows her brow. “You made the eleven o’clock news.”

“Hope they got your good side,” Olivia teases Fin.

Fin scoffs.

“Phoebe likes all my sides.”

Olivia grins. She lets Fin take her keys to open the door. Olivia walks inside with her shoes already half off and in her hand.

She tries to ignore Elliot’s scorching eyes as she bends over.

“Thanks, friend,” Olivia says.

She wraps an arm around Fin’s neck in appreciation. She hears a low chuckle in her ear.

“No problem, Captain. You all good?”

“Yeah,” Olivia confirms. She is gradually approaching the right side of sober. “Phoebe’s waiting.”

Fin nods before turning to stare at Elliot. The other man stares back at Fin.

“You got something to say?” Elliot demands.

“Trust,” Fin says, bluntly. Elliot narrows his eyes. “But I actually respect Liv enough to shut the hell up. Even if I have my doubts about the man she sees something good in.”

It’s a four-run homer. Olivia sees the words fly right over Elliot’s head. All his face shows is anger. Olivia walks to the refrigerator to get herself some water.

“Goodnight, Sergeant.”

“Yeah, night,” Fin grumbles.

Olivia hears the door close from behind her. She pulls a water bottle from the refrigerator and unscrews the cap. Olivia brings the bottle to her lips as she turns to face Elliot.

“What?” she eventually says, lowering the bottle.

Elliot shakes her head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk.”

“Considering everything, I’ll take that as a win.”

Olivia toasts the air ironically with her bottle.

“No Noah tonight?”

No. He is at a friend’s house. Olivia is off work tomorrow and will pick him up late-morning.

But that isn’t his business, Olivia thinks.

“Why are you here, Detective?” she demands. “I think we said enough to each other last night, don’t you? And I’m not interested in learning if being a nasty drunk is hereditary.”

“Olivia.” Elliot steps forward, but Olivia walks in the opposite direction. “I’m not here to fight.”

“Don’t tell me you’re here for an apology,” Olivia says, bitterly. “Because I know you well enough after all these years to know you’re not gonna be the one giving one.”

“I’m here to understand,” Elliot insists. “Help me understand.”

“That’s not my job!” Olivia snaps, smacking her palm on the counter.

She inwardly winces at the sting.

“We were partners,” Elliot says, patiently. “I thought that mattered to you.”

“Don’t pull that,” Olivia warns him. “A lot of things ‘were.’ A lot of things mattered. That changed, Elliot, along with everything else. Don’t blame me for changing with the times.”

“But …” Elliot shakes his head in disbelief. “Things couldn’t have changed that much!”

“I did!” Olivia cries. Her eyes burn in the corners. “Did you think it was just lip service when I said things happened to me in those ten years?”

Elliot falters. His mouth, which was poised to say more, closes again.

“What did you think?” Olivia whispers. She walks slowly over to him. “That we all just …” She snaps her fingers. “Froze in time when you left?”

“Olivia …”

“Or is it just me?” she questions, voice cracking. “Am I the one who wasn’t supposed to move on? Who was supposed to still be here waiting, hoping that her great protector would return?”

“That’s not fair, and you know it.”

“Bullshit,” Olivia says, bluntly. Elliot doesn’t flinch. “The sun rises in the east, birds migrate south for winter, and Elliot Stabler can’t help himself. He’s either all-in or all-out, except …”

Olivia feels her lips curl unpleasantly at him.

“Except,” she continues, “if it involves jerking someone around.”

Me, she thinks. Not ‘someone.’ Me.

It’s unspoken but not unheard.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“Not at the moment.”

“I …” Elliot pauses. “What?”

“That’s what I told you,” Olivia says, pointedly. “At the hospital, when your way of getting to know this version of me meant asking whether or not I was seeing anyone.”

“But no, I’m not at the moment.”

“But you did?”

“Well, it has been ten years, Elliot.”

“About how many?”

“What?”

“About how many?”

“Never did tell you how many,” Olivia says, feigning remorse. “I guess now that we’re here, I can check the notches on my bedpost.”

“Alright,” Elliot says, frustrated. “I shouldn’t have come.”

He starts to turn away, but not before Olivia can levels him with a:

“Fuck you.”

Elliot spins around in shock.

“Fuck me?” Elliot repeats.

“Is that a question or a sales pitch?”

Elliot’s eyes flash. He walks back to her until they are practically chest-to-chest.

“You’re drunk,” Elliot growls.

“If only,” Olivia says in disgust.

And I hate that you’re the one making me wish that, she thinks.

“I’m not your enemy, Olivia.”

“You’re not my friend either.” Again, Elliot doesn’t flinch, but Olivia sees hurt bloom in his eyes. “But you’ve known that since before you left.”

“Stop saying —”

“That you left?” she finishes. Elliot grits his teeth. “It’s the truth.”

“It’s an oversimplification.”

“You were here and then you weren’t,” she says, matter-of-factly. “What would you call that?”

“Survival.”

Olivia’s laughter is loud and sharp.

“Look at that,” she mocks. “Aren’t you the prodigal son?”

“You’ve gotten meaner.”

Elliot didn’t mean to express that belief out loud. It clearly surprises him even more when Olivia smiles in response.

“In some ways,” Olivia agrees. “Not as much in other ways. Compassion, generally, is in shorter supply these days. It’s saved for the people who need and deserve it most.”

“Not me, then.”

“Not in this instance,” Olivia retorts. “Not when you come here saying you’re not looking for a fight but are doing everything possible to start one with me.”

“That’s not …” Elliot runs a hand over his smooth head. “How would you have had me react?”

“Not throwing my loneliness at me would’ve been a good place to start.” Elliot’s face slackens. “There’s nothing wrong with people sleeping around, but I’ve never slept with anyone for kicks.”

“That could’ve changed, too,” he protests, weakly.

Scornfully, Olivia says, “Nice try, Detective.”

She steps back and removes her earrings. She walks toward her bedroom and takes her hair out of an already-precarious bun.

When she looks toward the doorway, she sees that Elliot has trailed her.

“I’m sorry for that part.”

Olivia lifts her eyes to the ceiling and shakes her head.

“Not your best apology.” She cocks her head. “Are we about done?”

“Not really,” Elliot says. “I don’t like things being like this with us.”

“Being like, what?”

Pursing his lips, Elliot replies, “Unresolved.”

Olivia swears that she floats out of her body for a second. When she returns to reality, she bursts out laughing at the sheer absurdity of the statement.

“We’re the epitome of being unresolved,” she cries in astonishment. “It can’t be news to you.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Well, you’re doing a hell of a job at bridging that gap.”

Elliot’s eyes darken. Not enough to concern Olivia, but certainly enough to intrigue her. She raises her eyebrows in challenge, which he takes as an invitation.

He steps over the threshold to her bedroom. When Olivia remains unmoved, he glides over to her until they are actually standing chest-to-chest.

“What’s the matter, Detective?” Olivia says. Her eyes are sharp and questioning. “Feeling out of your depth?”

“You’re projecting.”

He’s right. She is.

Olivia will never admit it.

She just shrugs and starts to turn when he takes hold of her wrist. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but certainly with enough force to stop Olivia in her tracks. She watches as Elliot flips her wrist and swiftly takes her pulse.

Elliot smirks.

Damn him, she thinks.

Olivia’s eyes scan him. Starting at his eyes, Olivia drifts her gaze down his firm chest. Her gaze dips lower and lower until she reaches the now clearly-defined bulge in his pants.

She arches an ironic brow.

“Least I can disguise it.”

Elliot burrows a hand in her hair and gives her a slight tug. A course of adrenaline soars through Olivia’s body. Swiftly followed by her own instincts kicking in on how to respond to their game of sexual-tension chicken.

Her fingers trail down his abdomen, feeling them tense underneath her touch. Olivia eyes his beard and wonders, not for the first time, how it would feel to have his lips between her legs.

Olivia’s hand reaches up and strokes the beard with the back of her fingers. Elliot instinctively closes his eyes and inhales.

“What are we doing, Liv?”

The ball is in her court. Olivia has known that for quite some time, but it’s different having the irrefutable evidence of their mutual attraction pressed up against her.

“Talking isn’t working,” Olivia retorts. She tilts her head. “Maybe there’s nothing left to say.”

Olivia’s hand drifts downward. After a brief pause, she cups Elliot through his jeans. He releases a noise that she has never heard from him before.

It causes her blood to run hot.

Before Olivia can process it, Elliot’s lips are on hers.

Chapter Text

Elliot goes through the entire day on a slow simmer.

He wakes up. He goes to work. There isn’t a new case across their desks yet, which means he is left tying up the loose ends of their last one and getting shoved out the door by Ayanna since he apparently needs to take “personal time.”

Personal time is exactly what Elliot doesn’t need. All that means is he spends time trapped in his head with his thoughts and, right now, his thoughts are betraying him.

So he decides to call his kids.

Unfortunately, his one daughter is fighting for that spot as a first-seed betrayer.

“How’re things with Olivia?”

Elliot looks up sharply from his coffee. Kathleen is studying him from over the rim of her mug.

“Why are you asking me that?”

“No reason,” Kathleen says, blandly. “You’re just wound tighter than those old slinky toys Dickie used to leave on the stairs.”

“Why am I catching strays?” Dickie mutters.

“Stop trying to co-opt Eli’s lingo,” Kathleen mocks.

“Hey,” Elliot says, interrupting their squabbling. “I’m not wound tight.”

Both of his kids scoff.

“Yeah, Dad, you are,” Dickie says, pityingly. Giving his sister a sidelong look, he adds, “Some of us just stopped questioning it.”

“What does that mean?” Elliot demands.

Kathleen sighs in exasperation.

“It means you’re in love with Olivia and it’s painfully obvious, so when the hell are you two going to do something about it?”

Elliot opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water.

“Think you broke him,” Dickie says.

“Well, shit,” Kathleen quips. “The warranty expired decades ago.”

Dickie coughs mid-sip of his drink. Elliot shoots them unimpressed looks.

“Do all of you think this?” Elliot asks.

“If you’re asking whether we sit around and talk about you and Olivia, the answer’s no,” Dickie says with an odd look. “That’d be weird as hell.”

“Mo and I have,” Kathleen shrugs.

Elliot swears his son mutters, “I rest my case” under his breath.

“But we also know Olivia the best,” Kathleen continues, ignoring her brother. “Me, especially.”

“You, especially?” Elliot says, uncomprehending. “You mean from when you were a kid?”

“And since,” Kathleen replies. “Just because you left SVU doesn’t mean I lost her number.” She gives him a strange look. “How do you think I contacted her for the intervention?”

Elliot refuses to let himself relive that atrocity.

“How is this the first time I’m hearing about this?”

“Because you never asked,” Kathleen says, slowly. “You’re forgetting, Dad, we didn’t go to Italy with you, Mom, and Eli. We had lives here. I can’t speak for Mo, Dickie, or Lizzie, but I kept up with the news.”

Elliot continues staring at her with no sign of comprehension. Kathleen leans backward in clear disapproval. She shakes her head.

“Dad.”

Defensively, Elliot replies, “What?”

“She was your partner.” Elliot bristles. “You haven’t asked her what happened in those years?”

Elliot doesn’t at all like the fact that whatever did happen was so bad that it made the news. It reached his daughter who — he knows for a fact — Olivia wouldn’t share her information with unless it was some degree of public record.

“There’s been a lot going on,” Elliot mutters. “What can you tell me?”

“Uh-uh. Absolutely not,” Kathleen says, forcefully. “Don’t you dare look it up either.”

She sounds strikingly like her mother.

“I’m the parent,” Elliot says. “Remember?”

“Then, explain why we’re sitting here watching you stew,” Kathleen counters. “What happened between the two of you that has you in your feelings rather than talking it out with her?”

“I don’t know how,” Elliot finally cracks. He drops his gaze and avoids his kids’ eyes. “Okay?”

“No,” Kathleen says, matter-of-factly. “Not good enough.”

“Kath, give him a break,” Dickie sighs.

“Why?” Kathleen insists. “So he can uphold the Stabler male tradition of repression and avoidance? You know as well as I do that Mom hated that.”

Elliot looks up sharply with a unique fire in his eyes.

“Don’t bring your mother into this.”

“There it is,” Kathleen says in recognition. She releases a heavy sigh. “You can’t bring yourself to talk things out with Olivia, because you feel guilty about …”

“Stop,” Elliot says, harshly. Several heads in the coffee shop turn to look at them. Quieter, he hisses, “Don’t therapize me, Kathleen. I’m not one of your patients.”

“No,” she agrees. “My job involves helping patients feel healthy, hopefully happy, and certainly a hell-of-a-lot-more well-adjusted.”

Dickie releases a low whistle. He shifts uncomfortably beside his sister.

Meanwhile, Elliot replies, “You’re out of line.”

“Maybe,” Kathleen agrees. “But you haven’t said I’m wrong yet.”

Elliot grips his mug tighter. So much so that his hand starts to tremble. He quickly releases the handle and lowers his hand to his lap.

Neither of his kids miss it.

“Are you in on this, too?” Elliot asks his eldest son.

The deadpan look that Dickie gives him is like looking in a mirror.

“Like I said,” Dickie replies, “I don’t spend my time thinking about your … angst toward Olivia.”

Jesus, Elliot thinks in horror.

No one says anything for a minute. Soon enough, Elliot sees a hand stretch across the table. He hesitates before he reluctantly lifts his left hand. Kathleen takes it in hers.

“This isn’t good for either one of you,” Kathleen whispers. “But you’re my dad. I love you.”

A lump rises in Elliot’s throat.

“Please don’t swallow this forever.”

The irony of the statement isn’t lost on Elliot. It makes Kathleen’s next words even more potent.

“Don’t waste any more time.”

***

Which is why when Elliot sees Olivia and Fin on the evening news, it feels like a sign.

For Elliot, who has long-since lost the foundational footing of his faith and the religion that he grew up in, that’s no small thing. So he waits for a while, figuring that she won’t be home just yet, and then goes to Olivia’s apartment.

Olivia is not there when he arrives. He knocks several times, but no one ever calls out to ask who is there and Elliot doesn’t hear movement through the door. He waits for a while and he almost heads home when the elevator dings.

There she is. Led by the arm with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. The picture isn’t entirely right, but there is no use denying that it fascinates Elliot.

Leading to the dissipation of all rational thought and practiced speeches.

God, she makes him so angry sometimes. So frustrated. She is infuriating.

Olivia is also enthralling. A challenge. Utterly intoxicating, and everything that he never allowed himself to fully want in a woman. Sure, Elliot has found himself loosely involved with more than one complicated woman since Kathy’s death. He was in some sort of limbo.

Emotional and mental purgatory.

Back in Olivia’s life, but no closer to being with her than when he was married. Somehow even further from that reality, because she didn’t trust him. He gave her no reason to believe that he wouldn’t disappear on her again.

“I’m not your enemy, Olivia.”

“You’re not my friend either.” Again, Elliot doesn’t flinch, but Olivia sees hurt bloom in his eyes. “But you’ve known that since before you left.”

“Stop saying —”

“That you left?” she finishes. Elliot grits his teeth. “It’s the truth.”

“It’s an oversimplification.”

“You were here and then you weren’t,” she says, matter-of-factly. “What would you call that?”

“Survival.”

It did feel that way. For a lot of reasons. Elliot has already explained why he cut all contact with Olivia, but he has never allowed himself to share just how awful it felt. How many nights he lay awake wishing that he fought harder to stay with the squad.

How many days he spent wondering how long it took before she stopped caring.

“What did you think?” Olivia whispers. She walks slowly over to him. “That we all just …” She snaps her fingers. “Froze in time when you left?”

“Olivia …”

“Or is it just me?” she questions, voice cracking. “Am I the one who wasn’t supposed to move on? Who was supposed to still be here waiting, hoping that her great protector would return?”

But now he has returned. He is back in Olivia’s life. He is standing in her apartment. He is dealing — or unable to deal with — the fact that she had a life outside of the one he knew.

A life that involved Ed Tucker of all people.

Why him? He had wondered about that all night and all day. Of all people, why did it have to be Tucker?

Elliot knows that it is more than mediocre, amateurish jealousy. Sure, there is plenty of that as well. Not that he would readily admit it to himself, let alone to another living and breathing soul. But it is there. It’s just not what bothers him the most.

The what-ifs are what haunt him.

What if I stayed? What if I never shot that girl? What if Liv trusted me?

And the worst “what-if” of all. The one that he never lets himself think about, because he loves his son too much to give voice to the terrible question.

What if Kathy never got pregnant again?

The look on Olivia’s face when he told her that news is as vivid now as if he were still living in the moment. The shock. The … not quite disappointment. Devastation?

No, he thinks. Resignation.

The reality that if there was ever a moment in the sun to be had — a chance to feel Olivia’s warmth on his own skin — it had vanished.

They lost their window of opportunity.

“Are we about done?”

“Not really,” Elliot says. “I don’t like things being like this with us.”

“Being like, what?”

Pursing his lips, Elliot replies, “Unresolved.”

Olivia swears that she floats out of her body for a second. When she returns to reality, she bursts out laughing at the sheer absurdity of the statement.

“We’re the epitome of being unresolved,” she cries in astonishment. “It can’t be news to you.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Well, you’re doing a hell of a job at bridging that gap.”

Well, look at them now.

The throbbing in Elliot’s jeans has intensified tenfold. So has his eagerness to attach his lips to Olivia’s skin. Her lips are always the end target, where he keeps returning, but he is curious by design. Eager to learn more about Olivia’s body than his eyes have had the ability to discern in the past quarter of a century.

Olivia’s hands are on his belt buckle. He puts his own on her wrists to still hers.

“Are you sure?” Elliot confirms. Olivia stares at him. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Like I said,” Olivia says, patiently. “I’m no longer drunk.”

Elliot stares at her. Really stares at her for any signs of intoxication. Right down to her pupils.

“El.” Her hand is light on his cheek. All previous anger fades. “I want this … do you?”

Elliot answers by bringing her lips back to his. He licks into Olivia’s mouth and feels himself lift out of his own body. Like he is the one who is intoxicated, because how is it that he is kissing Olivia for the first time and it not only feels good …?

But it feels so right.

“‘M still angry at you,” Olivia breathes against his lips.

“So we’re on the same page.”

She scoffs. His belt buckle clatters to the floor. She unbuttons Elliot’s jeans and slips a hand beneath them. She smirks, lips just grazing his own when she realizes that he’s not wearing anything underneath the denim.

“Is this a habit or strictly for my benefit?”

Elliot gasps into her mouth when she wraps her hand around the shaft and applies just the right amount of pressure. His brain short-circuits, unable to process anything that Olivia just said or whispers into his ear as she strokes him to full hardness.

“Having trouble focusing, Detective?”

Of course I fucking am, he thinks.

All the blood is flowing to the opposite end of his body.

Elliot’s brain kicks into overdrive. His fingers make quick work of the captain’s blouse. He slips the fabric off her shoulders, exposing one so that he can pepper kisses down it. Elliot slips the fabric further down until she is there with just sheer lace covering her breasts.

That goes next. Elliot unclasps the material with one hand sliding behind her back and worries instinctively that he might be salivating. To dispel these unwarranted fears, he lowers his head and latches onto her left breast.

Olivia cries out his name when he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. God, the noises that she makes. They make Elliot want to keep them both going all night.

There is still so much to explore.

***

Olivia has no protests when Elliot lifts her up and tosses her onto her bed.

She stares up at the man as he climbs over her. His lips hover just above hers and the pad of his left thumb traces her unmarked breast. Elliot squeezes the nipple, making her back arch.

“You like that?”

Olivia will not give him the satisfaction of whimpering. Nor will she hand him the keys to the palace. Elliot will have to work for it like anyone else.

Harder, even.

“What’s the matter?” Olivia says, slightly breathless. “Doubting your abilities?”

Elliot’s eyes darken. He lifts his shirt with one hand over his head. Olivia finds herself tracing sculpted abs that were not nearly as defined during the years when she may have seen Elliot shirtless. The years were good to him.

Elliot is far more defined now than when he was at any age that might be considered a man’s peak. So when he slips out of his jeans and is laid bare for Olivia’s eyes, she cannot help but feel slightly affected by the sight of him.

All of him.

Olivia inwardly curses when Elliot’s hand dips into her pants. She is already slick with yearning. Waiting for him. Elliot knows that now if he didn’t before.

Elliot’s lips are on hers as he uses his middle finger to rhythmically massage her clit. He coaxes out noises that she didn’t realize were laying dormant. Waiting for him to give them a platform.

Olivia practically sees stars when he applies pressure to her opening while taking her nipple in his mouth. She cries out when a finger slips past the entrance and hooks just so.

“The best … tits,” Elliot breathes into her mouth.

“High praise,” Olivia laughs, just as breathless.

But there is no mistaking it. Her cheeks are warm under the praise. If it weren’t for the fact that Elliot keeps finger-fucking her, she might have felt more bashful.

As it stands, she just wants more of him.

“Hold on.”

Elliot ceases all movement. Once he understands, he helps Olivia remove her pants. He lifts her legs to remove the lingerie next.

Now, they are equals.

Elliot’s two fingers slip easily back inside of her. It is not long before Olivia is riding them, feeling herself get closer to her climax. Feeling …

Oh.

When did he get down there?

***

Elliot could get lost in the maze of his own mind if he isn’t careful.

Olivia is breathtaking. Every inch and corner of her, but the parts of her that are new to him shine brighter than the rest. It is impossible to know where he should look first.

Yet as much as his eyes are drawn to her beauty, they are also forced to observe her past pain. The sort of pain that leaves behind physical traces that not even time can disguise or erase.

Scars and burns. Not self-inflicted, that much is clear to Elliot. They litter her thighs. Some of the marks are dangerously close to where his head is now, which sends a jolt of rage through him. It is followed by grief that he wasn’t here to …

Protect her? Olivia has made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t want or need his protection. But should that matter? Elliot doesn’t want that from her either, but he knows she would hunt down anyone who attempted or succeeded in maiming parts of him.

There was a time when, if the world was ending, he would expect no one else but Olivia to be standing by his side. There is still no one else that he implicitly trusts to know what he needs, even if he won’t admit it to them or himself.

Elliot extricates himself from that mental minefield.

He presses his tongue flat and licks.

Despite not seeing it right then, Elliot will later notice the way that Olivia fists the sheets. Her vice-like grip on the linens as he licks into her.

Elliot cannot get enough, but he needs to check one thing first.

“Is it too much with the beard?”

“No.” Olivia’s eyes are blown wide. “Feels good.”

Interesting.

Elliot makes a mental note to put off shaving.

As Elliot presses his tongue deeper into her, he instinctively reaches to hold Olivia’s hips down when they buck again. Her skin is soft to the touch. Supple. Aside from the marks on them that belong to missing chapters of her story, there are others that show the passage of time. Elliot is entirely consumed by the notion of learning each one.

Tracing his fingers and tongue on the curves and dips until he commits them to memory. He thrusts his tongue, eliciting a loud cry. Olivia trembles from above, which makes Elliot smirk.

“Fuck off,” Olivia growls.

Elliot looks up with a playful glint in his eye. He sees how worked up she is already. Elliot knows that he is solely responsible for it. He also knows that she knows he knows, and it infuriates her.

Which is just perfect because, as is established, she infuriates him.

“Only if you ask nicely,” Elliot drawls.

Elliot slides up her body, pressing down to create just enough tantalizing friction between them. He is completely hard and leaking at the tip.

Which is the reason, he tells himself, that Olivia got the upperhand.

Elliot is now supine and Olivia, with a whole new aura surrounding her, straddles him.

“Well done,” Elliot teases.

Elliot knew his words would get a rise out of her, but it didn’t in the way that he expected. Olivia counterstrikes by reaching between his legs and giving his balls a squeeze.

“Don’t patronize me,” Olivia cautions. “Not ever, but especially not here. I’m dead serious.”

Elliot grimaces in pain. He nods and she releases him.

Olivia’s hair falls over her shoulder and dances across his cheek when she leans forward to kiss him. It isn’t an apology. Not even a little bit.

She did to him with actions what he did to her with words.

The kiss gets them back on track. So much so that they both quickly set a new pace. One that has Olivia grinding down on him until breaking long enough to reach for a condom.

Elliot watches with hooded eyes as Olivia lowers herself down on him. Right to the hilt. He just about manages to keep his hips still as she adjusts to the new girth. While he waits, he traces patterns on her thighs and the cheeks closest to them.

He pinches her left cheek, which causes her clench around him. The chain reaction is almost enough to have things ending before they can begin.

Tantalizing, Olivia asks, “You like me taking you like this?”

She moans when Elliot pinches her again. Then, he gently slaps her ass.

“Fuck yes.”

“Again.” Elliot slaps her ass. She clenches. “Harder.”

Again. Then, two more times.

“Move.”

Elliot thrusts upward in one fluid motion. Olivia’s head falls back.

The rest quickly becomes a blur. The sound of skin-on-skin fills the room. There is panting and whispered curses. Moans in the form of names passing between lips like secrets.

Elliot’s hands return to Olivia’s breasts. Squeezing and kneading them as she swivels her hips with her hands bracing herself on his chest.

“So you’re a …” Olivia keens under his touch. “Breast man, huh?”

Breasts. Ass. Legs. It all adds up to the same thing.

Elliot is for them all if they belong to Olivia.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he sits up and gathers her into his lap. Olivia wraps her arms around his neck as Elliot runs his hands down her back. He squeezes her from behind, not losing their rhythm, and then starts to suck a mark right on her collarbone.

“So good, Liv.”

***

The words vibrate against her chest.

Olivia feels a tug in her chest that is in no way connected to her arousal. She drags her nails down Elliot’s back as a form of distraction. It’s not immediately obvious, but she can tell when his movements get choppier.

More desperate.

“Prove it,” Olivia whispers in his ear.

Elliot twists her nipple again and releases a shout when she clenches around him. That is all it takes for her to come undone a second time. She follows him through his high, just like she did so many times on the job.

The highs. The lows. The unanswered questions of who they were to each other.

Olivia isn’t someone who follows anymore. She leads.

Yet, when she rolls off Elliot and onto her side, she doesn’t move at first. She doesn’t protest either when he draws her close.

“‘M still angry at you,” Olivia breathes against his lips.

“So we’re on the same page.”

Olivia has her doubts. Elliot looks pretty sated.

Then again, he always had a one-track mind.

They stay like that for a while. Breathing slightly out-of-sync. Olivia feels the corners of her eyes burn when she notices it.

She knew going in that sleeping with Elliot wouldn’t solve their problems. But it was more than just a distraction from them. It was something that they — that she — needed to do.

“Okay,” Olivia says. “So you think that I have intimacy issues.”

“Is that what you’re hearing me say?” Dr. Peter Lindstrom asks.

“Can we just stop the shrink talk and you just tell me what you think?”

Patiently, Dr. Lindstrom replies, “What I actually think?”

Olivia is less patient with her response.

“Yeah.”

“I think,” Dr. Lindstrom begins, “that you and Elliot either need to see whether there’s more there, or, move on. This idealized relationship is hanging over you. Prevents you from true intimacy, Olivia, either with him, or with anyone else. That’s what I think.”

“Liv?” Elliot asks, sharply. “Liv, what’s wrong?”

Damn it, she thinks.

Olivia sits up straight. She wipes the tears that she hadn’t realized began falling.

“Nothing,” she says.

“Don’t.” There is new urgency in Elliot’s voice. “Please don’t lie. Talk to me.”

Olivia stares straight ahead. She adjusts the sheet so that it covers her chest but otherwise pools around her waist.

“I’m talked-out. Remember?”

Elliot shifts his body around until he can look her in the eye. From a bird’s eye view, it must be a remarkably strange sight.

He opens his mouth and then closes it. Olivia sees the fear in his eyes.

She shakes her head.

“I made a choice tonight,” Olivia says. “I stand by it.”

“But?” Elliot says when the word remains trapped on her tongue.

“But, nothing,” Olivia says instead. “We’re no longer unresolved.”

Olivia gets up from the bed and stares aimlessly around the room. Still clutching the sheet, she begins picking up her discarded articles of clothing.

“Liv,” Elliot protests.

She doesn’t give him a chance to finish.

“You knew what this was,” she says, sharply. Elliot bristles. “I know you’re still angry, and not just because I didn’t tell you the full story. You’ll never be okay with my history with …”

“I know with ‘who.’”

Olivia’s mouth hangs open for a moment before closing it. Elliot’s eyes are full of regret.

“Yeah. You do,” she says, coolly. “And I’m not okay with erasing my history for you. For anyone.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

Aren’t you? she bites back in response. Isn’t that what you just did?

“There’s no weighing in on this after-the-fact.”

“Because I wasn’t there.”

It isn’t a question, but Olivia shakes her head.

“Because it’s none of your business,” Olivia says, parroting Elliot’s own words. He stiffens. “That cuts both ways, for the record.”

She picks Elliot’s clothes up off the floor and places them on the bed. He stands up, body on full display, and pulls on his briefs.

Olivia knows that she should look away, but she cannot bring herself to have it all end just yet. Despite being the one who set their current descent in motion.

Fervently, Elliot says, “This isn’t as cheap as you’re making it out to be.” He tightens his buckle with unnecessary force. “Me being mad doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“You still don’t get it,” Olivia cries. “I can’t take how much you care!”

Elliot falters. His arms drop to his side as he stands there, half-dressed.

“How you care hurts,” Olivia says, quieter.

It always has. When he tried not to care, when he cared so much despite having a life and family with another woman, and today.

Today, he cares. He cares what should be just the right amount, because he is finally free to care in whatever way that he chooses.

It’s somehow even more painful.

Olivia feels her airway constrict as Elliot continues staring at her.

“I’m not trying to …” He grits his teeth. “You know it’s more than that. For me.”

“Elliot, tell us what you need.”

“I love you.”

It’s a cheap shot.

As if it wasn’t everything for me, Olivia thinks.

One hand tightens around the sheet. The other covers her eyes.

“El?”

Olivia waits until he responds. It takes a while, but he eventually does.

“Yeah.”

“Ask me what I need.”

Olivia feels herself teetering so close to the edge. So close to a collapse that she doesn’t think she’ll come back from if she allows it to happen. But Olivia also knows her self-reckoning is as necessary as it will be excruciating.

“What do you need, Liv?”

“Elliot, tell us what you need.”

Almost as excruciating as her next words. The words that she never would’ve believed herself capable of saying if you told her that she would say them a decade ago.

Trembling, Olivia whispers, “I need you to leave.”

She blinks to clear her vision. Through swimming eyes, she expects to see that Elliot’s have shuttered. That he has shut down the way that he does when he does not want to deal with something unpleasant.

Olivia expects his trademark vacant stare.

She never anticipated him wiping his own eyes. Even if he does it with an aggressive vigor.

The seconds stretch like hours between them. Elliot lifts his shirt over his head and pats his pockets for his belongings. He studies the room without looking at Olivia.

He’s stalling, Olivia recognizes.

That is when Olivia realizes that she doesn’t want to watch him leave any more than he wants to walk away from her. Again.

Wordlessly, Olivia walks into her en suite. She closes the door behind her and locks it. Next, she turns on the shower and lets the sheet drop to the floor.

Olivia stares at herself in the mirror. There are signs on her body. Marks that weren’t there before. Proof that she didn’t hallucinate the past few hours.

It’s her eyes that hurt the most. They are bloodshot, yes, but they also look defeated.

“Okay,” Olivia says. “So you think that I have intimacy issues.”

“Is that what you’re hearing me say?” Dr. Peter Lindstrom asks.

Olivia turns angrily away from the mirror. She climbs into the shower before sliding down so that she is sitting in the tub. She brings her knees up to her chin and wraps her arms around them.

It is when Olivia muffle-screams into her arms that the dam is broken.

The shower whooshes overhead. It just barely drowns out the sound of her tears.

It doesn’t wash away the grief.

Chapter Text

Saturday morning comes fast and hard.

Olivia slept for maybe two hours, and that is by the most liberal of estimates. She is up and out of bed at the crack of dawn cleaning the apartment.

An apartment that was already clean.

Olivia looks up when there is a knock on the door. She walks across the room resignedly and opens the door. Two friendly faces greet her.

“I come bearing bagels and coffee,” Amanda says. “And an extremely mellow baby. I swear I didn’t slip him anything.”

“C’mere, Nicky,” Olivia murmurs.

She cradles the baby so that his head rests against her shoulder. Amanda walks inside and Olivia cannot help but pout when Nicky’s snores fill her ears.

“He didn’t sleep well last night,” Amanda remarks.

Birds of a feather, Olivia thinks.

“Where are the girls?” Olivia asks.

“Dance and soccer. Carisi’s on daddy-daughter duty.”

“Leaving you on Liv duty?” Olivia finishes. Amanda looks innocently at her. “Fin?”

“He may have mentioned you’d appreciate coffee this morning,” Amanda admits.

“I wasn’t that bad,” Olivia mutters. She gently pats Nicky’s bottom. “I was more punch-drunk and tired when I got back.”

“Fair eno — hold up.” Olivia looks questioningly at her. Amanda’s gaze is set lower than before. “What … is that a hickey?”

Amanda is pointing at her collarbone. It must have become visible when Olivia shifted Nicky, causing her T-shirt to slip.

Olivia purses her lips. Amanda’s eyes grow wide.

“Did you go to Stabler’s?”

“No,” Olivia says, flatly. Then, “He was here.”

“To apologize?”

Olivia scoffs.

“Pitch that theory to Fin. He’d get a laugh. Actually,” Olivia continues, “don’t.”

Olivia lowers herself onto the sofa. She looks down at the sleeping baby.

A lump rises in her throat.

“Oh, Liv.” Olivia looks up at her friend with brighter eyes than usual. “You two …?”

“You can’t repeat this to anyone,” Olivia pleads. “I … Amanda, I wanted to. But I don’t know what I was thinking. It was never supposed to be like this.”

“Which part?” Amanda asks. “The feelings during it or everything afterwards?”

“All of it.” She rubs Nicky’s back now. “It was good. Really good. Until the rest of it bled through. I told him afterwards that I needed him to leave.”

Olivia wipes under her eyes. Amanda squeezes her knee with sympathetic eyes.

“You did what you needed to do,” Amanda reiterates. “You’re allowed to have boundaries.”

“We crossed a big one,” Olivia points out. “One we can’t come back from.”

“Do you want to?”

“I …”

I want my friend Elliot, she desperately thinks. Not this stranger who looks and sounds like him. Who makes me feel like I’m primed to implode.

“I don’t think he’ll ever get past me being with Ed,” Olivia finally manages. “And even if I can get past the hurtful things he’s said, I don’t think I know how to explain what Ed meant to me. It was more than just loving him and the life we made with Noah. He …”

Olivia trails off mid-sentence. She gnaws the inside of her cheek.

“We’ve never spoken about this before.”

Amanda’s voice is gentle. So much so that it coaxes Olivia while simultaneously putting her more on edge. Mostly because Amanda isn’t a gentle person. She is compassionate and is capable of tremendous kindness, but she is also direct.

Olivia is direct, too, but she is also artful. She isn’t reluctant when it comes to taking the scenic route if it means building trust and getting to the crux of an issue.

Amanda is less patient. It often gets her results on the job, but it can be just as off-putting. It is what kept Olivia at arms-length when she first joined SVU and is what she almost misses right now. If for no other reason than she already feels more raw and vulnerable than usual.

“It’s … complicated,” Olivia sighs. “Ed saw parts of me that I wasn’t aware of, or didn’t want to be aware of. He saw how I carry this job and can bring it home. He helped make sure it didn’t crush me when I had my back turned.”

Simply, Amanda states, “He loved you.”

“And I loved him,” Olivia replies with a nod. “How do I explain that to someone who knew him as the guy that tried to take the job away from us?” She pauses for effect. “Why should I have to?”

“It’s not really about what you should have to do,” Amanda acknowledges. “It’s whether or not Stabler’s worth it.” Olivia stares at her. “I guess it’s a little bit about fear, too.”

“I don’t understand.”

Amanda gives her a long look.

“What if no amount of explaining makes it make sense for him?” Amanda says. “Or for you?”

Olivia inhales sharply at the last part.

“I’ve known you for over a decade, Liv,” Amanda continues. “You’re the strongest woman that I know. You’re also the poster-child for reconciliation when it comes to dealing with life’s realities that don’t fit within the black-and-white.”

Olivia focuses on the baby who is still sleeping in her arms. She tries not to move a muscle.

“But?” she whispers.

“No ‘but’,” Amanda says. “Whatever you do next, I’ll support it. So will Fin and the others. He and I already pledged a no-questions-asked mentality if Stabler’s balls end up in a dumpster.”

“We arrest people for that,” Olivia deadpans. She gives Amanda a half-smile. “Love you.”

“Make it double.” Olivia’s smile becomes slightly more genuine. “I am curious, though …”

“God,” Olivia groans.

Amanda’s grin widens like a Cheshire cat.

“Was it mind-blowing?” Amanda whispers, conspiratorially. “Did he make you …?”

“Twice,” Olivia interjects. Amanda’s grin turns wicked. “Stop.”

“Let me enjoy this!” Amanda laughs. “You’re blushing!”

“I am not.”

Olivia tries to ignore how hot her cheeks feel.

“You totally are, and I love that for you,” Amanda says. Olivia huffs. “I know it wasn’t what you pictured, but there’s something to be said about having hot, angry …”

“Coffee?” Olivia says, abruptly. She hands Nicky off to Amanda. “I have to pick Noah up in an hour. So drink it now or … I don’t know. Shove it somewhere.”

Amanda’s jaw drops.

“Captain!”

***

“Oh,” Elliot grunts. “It’s you.”

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” Randall deadpans.

Elliot leaves him at the doorway and walks further into his apartment.

He didn’t call Randall, but he isn’t surprised to see him. His older brother has taken to dropping by unannounced and does it more Saturdays than he doesn’t.

Randall always brings food.

“Stop stocking my fridge.”

“I told you, it gets Ma off my back. For five minutes,” Randall snorts. “‘How’s my Elliot?’ ‘Won’t you check on him?’ ‘Make sure he’s eating.’ ‘He doesn’t take care of himself.’”

“I get it.”

“I don’t,” Randall drones. “You’re still here, aren’t you? It can’t be entirely by accident.”

Elliot rolls his eyes. He sits at the counter and takes a sip of his black coffee. Which, for the record, isn’t because the milk expired.

It did expire, but Elliot didn’t want it anyway.

Randall turns once he has organized the groceries. He scrutinizes his brother.

“You look different.”

Elliot grips his mug harder but otherwise shows no sign that he heard Randall.

“What’s different?”

“Other than I was drinking my coffee in peace five minutes ago?” Elliot snaps.

Randall ignores him, looking completely unbothered. Then, he nods slowly at Elliot.

“Uh-huh. Got it.”

He turns away from Elliot. The younger man waits for more, but Randall refuses to give it. Just like when they were kids. He still knows Elliot cannot stand an unfinished conversation. Mostly, when he isn’t the one ending it.

Bastard, Elliot thinks.

“Got, what?”

Randall doesn’t answer at first. He pours himself a cup of coffee. Then:

“You got laid.”

Son-of-a-bitch.

“You’re talking out of your ass.”

“That’s not a denial,” Randall quips. Turning to face Elliot, he raises his eyebrows. “Finally grow a pair and bed Captain Benson?”

Harshly, Elliot says, “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Two-for-two. Nice,” Randall says, more to himself. Elliot bristles. “How’d you fuck it up?”

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Elliot demands.

“This would go a lot easier if you just told me why you’re acting like more of a dick than usual.”

“Then, what?” Elliot mocks. “Are we gonna braid each other’s non-existent hair? I gotta tell ya, it’d go a lot better than whatever this is.”

“Jesus Christ,” Randall says in disbelief. He lowers his coffee. “He really did a number on you.”

Elliot gives his brother a warning look.

“Randall …”

“I figured it must’ve been better with Kathy. She must’ve had the patience of a saint.”

“Randall, I swear to —”

“Dad’s still pulling the strings.” Elliot’s blood runs cold. “You can’t, for the life of you, figure out why anyone would give a shit about you.”

“Get out,” Elliot says, rising to his feet. “Now.”

“You’re gonna have to knock me out or pick me up,” Randall says with a shrug. “I ain’t going anywhere. Not yet, anyway.”

“Then, I’ll leave.”

“For where?” Randall taunts. “Another appointment with your slow-burn booty call?”

It’s transparent. It’s a way for Randall to keep Elliot here. To keep him fighting so that he doesn’t do anything else stupid. Elliot sees it for what it is, but it doesn’t matter.

Not when it involves disrespecting Liv, he thinks.

Elliot rounds the counter in a flash. He grabs his brother by the front of his shirt and slams Randall into the counter. The older man groans.

Leaning forward, Elliot snarls, “I told you … not to talk about her like that.”

Randall shoves him backward. Elliot makes a show of not letting go of him at first. His brother hasn’t had the ability to overpower him in decades. Eventually, he shoves Randall in disgust.

Elliot walks away from him and runs a hand over his head. His baldness doesn’t phase Elliot anymore, but it is a reminder right now of how much time has passed.

How much time you’ve wasted, a voice in his head taunts.

“You need to get out of your own way, man.”

Elliot turns slowly until he faces Randall.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” Elliot glowers at him. “I’ve never seen two people more obviously in love do everything they can to ignore it.”

Elliot’s jaw works. Turning away again, he mutters:

“We’re past ignoring it.”

“I knew it!” Elliot shoots him a dirty look. “Fine. Sorry.” Then, “What’s the issue?”

Tucker, Elliot thinks. As always.

You, the voice in his head contradicts. As always.

Elliot feels a headache blooming.

“Alright, consider this,” Randall redirects. Elliot makes no promises. “Is she the problem? Or is it everything else? Because I know I haven’t had a whole lot of interactions with her …”

“Aside from hitting on her,” Elliot mutters.

“Stuff it, coma boy.” Elliot snorts. “I may not know her, but it seems obvious that she’s the one who makes everything easier for you.”

Elliot feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.

“How’s that for food for thought?” Randall gloats.

Elliot doesn’t respond. He stares out the window at the patio in contemplation. The detective inhales deeply, then exhales. His lips form a thin line.

“She’s a pain-in-the-ass,” Elliot murmurs. “She gets under my skin. She always has to be right.”

“And you love it.”

And I love it, Elliot agrees. I love her.

“If you can’t do it for yourself, figure this shit out for the rest of us,” Randall implores. Elliot furrows his brow. “You’re second-most-annoying when you sulk.”

“I am not sulking.”

Randall guffaws.

“The hell you aren’t. But you’re gonna need to do it on your own now. I’ve got places to be.”

“You?”

“Yes, me, dickhead.” Randall walks toward the door to the patio. “Think about what I said.”

“Already forgot it,” Elliot calls, walking toward the bathroom.

Elliot hears the choice words that Randall says just loudly enough for his brother to hear them. Despite himself, the younger of the men fights back a smile.

***

“Can I use this photo?”

Olivia looks up and glances at the photo in Noah’s hand.

“Sure, honey.”

“It’s strange seeing your hair this short.”

Olivia laughs. It’s Sunday night and they are sitting at the dining room table. Olivia looks closer at the photo that Noah just pasted to his project. If she had to make an educated guess, it was taken around 2004. Back when she had blonde highlights.

“That isn’t the shortest I’ve worn it,” Olivia shares. “But there’s no evidence of it, thank God.”

She stands up from the table and brings her glass of wine to the sink.

“Do you wish there were more photos of you when you were my age?”

Olivia’s movements slowly come to a halt. She braces her hands on the apron of the sink.

“Sometimes,” she replies. “From when I was really little.”

“But not my age?” Noah repeats.

Olivia weighs her next words.

“Is this just us talking? Not for the report?”

Noah nods and lowers his materials onto the table. Olivia exhales. She turns around so that she is leaning back against the sink.

“You asked me once when we were walking to school if I missed my mom,” Olivia prefaces.

“You said you did,” Noah finishes. Olivia blinks. “I remember.”

Olivia smiles slightly at her son. He’s always had a sharp memory.

My little elephant, she thinks.

“That was the truth,” Olivia says. “But I don’t think it really hit me just how much I could until I became a parent. A mom. Possibly …”

Olivia hesitates for the briefest of seconds.

“Possibly even more after you and I spoke about your biological parents.”

Olivia sees how Noah shifts in his seat. She returns to the table and sits caddy-corner to him. She gives him a reassuring smile.

“Why?” Noah asks.

“Because your other mom, Ellie, fought so hard for you,” Olivia says, fervently. She runs a hand through Noah’s curls. “And so did my mom in her own way. They were alike in certain respects.”

“How old was she when she died?”

“Oh,” Olivia says, leaning back in her chair. “Fifty-six.”

“If your mom was still alive,” Noah asks on their walk to school, “how old would she be?”

“Um, my mother Serena would’ve been … seventy-seven.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Olivia laughs.

“That’s not much younger than you.”

Olivia hears the note of panic in Noah’s voice.

“Hey,” she whispers. She leans forward. “I’m not … my mom’s death …”

Olivia is fumbling. It reminds her of when Noah found her documents on Johnny D.

“It had nothing to do with her age,” Olivia settles on saying.

“Was she sick?”

Olivia opens and then closes her mouth.

“Not in the way you probably meant it,” Olivia sighs.

“Then, how?” Noah asks.

Is he old enough for this conversation? she wonders.

Olivia thinks so. It isn’t an easy conversation for her to have, but it’s no harder on paper than talking about Johnny D. and Ellie.

Noah only knows that story to a point. So, it stands to reason that Olivia can share part of her story with him, too. Especially if it might put his mind slightly at ease and show him that she is aware he is getting older.

“You went with short answers?” Fin asks as they enter the squad room.

“Yeah,” Olivia scoffs.

“Good.”

Even though Noah will always be her little boy.

“Years ago, a couple weeks before Christmas,” Olivia begins, “she was out. She was drinking.”

Olivia stares at her hands on the table. She rubs the pad of her right thumb against her left thumb’s knuckle. Until, out of nowhere, her left hand is occupied.

She stares at Noah’s smaller hand that just reached for it.

Olivia blinks several times. She squeezes Noah’s hand in appreciation and gives him a wobbly smile. Olivia draws strength from it. Strength from her son’s kindheartedness.

“She fell down some subway stairs,” Olivia continues. “For a long time, it really made me angry. Because she … Her drinking was the cause of the fall. She was an alcoholic.”

“Oh,” Noah says, quietly.

His hand is still wrapped tightly around Olivia’s. Until he gets up and wraps his arms around her shoulders. Olivia squeezes her eyes shut tight.

“Sorry,” Noah murmurs. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“This is fine,” Olivia chokes out. She rubs her son’s back. “This is good.”

They stay like that for a few seconds before she kisses the side of his head.

“This got heavy,” Olivia says with a strained laugh. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“You always tell me I don’t have to apologize for how I feel,” Noah admonishes.

Olivia gives a watery chuckle.

“You mean you actually listen to me?” she teases as a deflection.

Noah raises his eyebrows. It doesn’t even slightly surprise her that he sees right through her. His emotional intelligence grows exponentially with each passing day.

Olivia cannot wait for the day that his surpasses hers.

“I guess that’s your way of reminding me to take my own advice.”

“Can I ask one other thing?” Noah asks. Olivia nods. “Is that why you never talk about what kind of mom she was?

“Do you miss her?” Noah pivots.

“Yeah,” she replies, softly.

“‘Cause she was a good mom. Like you.”

Noah says it with no hesitation. It isn’t a question.

“Noah,” Olivia says, feigning shock. “You should know by now that no one’s as good a mom as I am!”

“I’m not … alcoholism is a disease,” Olivia amends. “I know that intellectually. When I’m at my best, I can remember that. It doesn’t make it easier, but it helps me focus on the real enemy.”

That, Olivia thinks, and I know the enemy that led her to the pattern of abuse. Both self-inflicted and inflicted onto others.

Onto you, the voice in her head says. There’s no shame in admitting that.

The voice sounds like Dr. Peter Lindstrom.

“Our difficult relationship,” Olivia manages, “doesn’t preclude me from loving her.”

“Preclude?”

“Prevent. Or make it impossible.”

Noah nods. He leans back against the chair and stares straight ahead.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

Noah looks guiltily at her.

“Our relationship is easy,” Noah says.

Olivia feels an immense wave of relief pass over her.

“I’m glad.”

She waits as he gathers his thoughts.

“It’s harder with my birth mom,” Noah says. “I know she loved me, and you’ve told me things about her, but …”

“Hearing it isn’t the same as experiencing it,” Olivia finishes when he doesn’t.

Noah nods.

“Does that make me awful?”

“No,” Olivia says, firmly. “It’s hard. I won’t say it’ll be easy one day, but you’ll find ways to reconcile that difference — or bridge the gap.”

“Like it got better for you.”

“Like that,” Olivia confirms. She squeezes Noah’s chin. “I love you so, so much.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

“And it is so, so late,” she whispers. He groans. “Get washed up before the rest of the cows come home.”

“That’s not funny,” Noah says, exasperated.

Olivia leans forward and “moos” in his face. Noah rolls his eyes and bounds out of the room. She smirks in satisfaction.

Works every time.

***

“‘Night,” Olivia calls to her squad. “In other words, go home.”

Several people laugh and start organizing their work areas. Amanda has already left for the night. So have her other lead detectives.

Or, so she thought.

“Headed home, Liv?”

Fin’s head appears from around the corner.

“That’s the plan,” Olivia says, aiming for nonchalance. “Do you plan on telling me something that’ll change that?”

“Hell, no,” Fin says. “Lemme grab my coat. I’ll walk out with you.”

Olivia waits to call the elevator until he joins her.

“Didn’t get a chance to talk today,” Fin says.

Olivia hums.

“It was chaotic,” she confirms.

“Wasn’t sure I’d catch you before you left,” Fin continues.

Olivia is already not fond of the conversation’s trajectory. Fin huffs.

“You gonna make me dig for details like we’re a couple of ‘middle school besties’?”

Olivia doesn’t crack a smile. The elevator doors open and she steps onto the platform. Fin swiftly follows her. She hits the button for the lobby.

“Is there any point in saying there’s nothing to tell?”

“Not when it’s between two people who’ve known each other as long as we have,” Fin says. “On the other hand, I’m good at backing off when I’m told to kick it. Even if I don’t like it.”

Olivia sighs heavily and glances sideways at him.

“I know you are,” she concedes. “It’s one of my favorite qualities about you.”

“I’m blushing.”

Olivia scoffs before looking straight ahead.

Fin always knows how to keep the mood light. Even when the odds are stacked against him.

“Stabler and I talked — make that, argued,” Olivia says. She bites the inside of her cheek. “Until we didn’t. Let’s leave it at that.”

Fin releases a low whistle. Olivia grimaces and stares at the elevator doors.

“Sorry, Liv.”

“For, what?” Olivia asks. They reach the precinct’s lobby. “I could’ve kicked his ass out at any point. He would’ve gone, too.”

“Not about Friday night,” Fin clarifies. Quieter, he says, “About bringing him back into your life.”

“And by the way,” Fin says, turning around. “Congratulations on your award.”

Sardonically, Olivia replies, “NYPD Women in Law Enforcement.”

Fin turns around with a furrowed brow.

“Look, they want to honor me now?” Olivia continues. “With this whole Jayvon Brown lawsuit hanging over my head … I just — I don’t think right now’s the time to be doing a victory lap.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re giving it to you,” Fin suggests.

“Look, I don’t even know if I’m gonna go,” Olivia says. “I have to write a speech …”

“You got a month,” Fin says in disbelief. “You need to be there.”

Incredulously, Olivia asks, “Why? Because it’s good PR for NYPD?”

“Because you deserve it. And you should own it.”

Fin says it so firmly, so emphatically, that Olivia almost believes him.

He turns to walk back out of her office. Before he is all the way out the door, he adds:

“And you never know who may show up.”

Olivia reaches out for Fin’s arm to stop him before he can keep walking.

“Fin,” she breathes. “How long’ve you been holding onto this?”

Fin stares wordlessly at her. Olivia’s eyes grow wider and she tilts her head.

“I don’t … Listen,” Olivia says. “I know there are probably people who think Elliot returning when he did was him crashing back into my life once it was on track, and it was that in some ways.”

“But there was so much unresolved trauma that bled into other areas of my life. Not to mention my relationships,” she continues. “Look at how long it took me to warm up to Nick and Amanda. Look at everything that’s still fractured between me and Barba.”

“I don’t do well with people leaving,” Olivia says, matter-of-factly. “I deal with it even worse when they come back and I have to confront how their leaving affected me. Or if the reunion isn’t what I hoped for. My issues with Elliot go beyond that. I know you know that.”

“Yeah,” Fin eventually agrees. Wryly, he adds, “This is where Munch would make a joke about finally sinking that cue ball.”

Olivia cannot help it. She throws her head back and laughs.

“God, I hate how right you are.”

***

The rest of the week passes in a haze.

Elliot knows that he is being childish. He knows that he and Olivia need to talk about what went down between them last weekend. He has had plenty of work on his plate, but Elliot has used it as an excuse.

Which means it is even harder to organically approach her without feeling like a coward.

It turns out that he will not have a choice.

“You all need to see this,” Sergeant Ayanna Bell announces.

Reclining in his chair, Detective Bobby Reyes asks, “What’s up, Sarge?”

“Jet,” Bell says. “The monitor?”

Detective Jet Slootmaekers punches in some keys, granting Bell’s iPad screen sharing capabilities. Elliot turns his attention to the bigger monitor.

“What’re we looking at?” Detective Jamie Whelan chimes in.

“A new case,” Bell says with a grim expression. “You name it, it has it. The broad overview is there’s a gang suspected of smuggling antique artifacts and illegal drugs across the border.”

“What’s the catch?” Elliot asks.

Bell gives him a meaningful look, as if to say: I see you seeing me.

“The reason why it’s still considered ‘suspected,’” Bell says. “They’re trafficking women and young girls, who they’re using …”

“As mules,” Elliot finishes with a grim expression.

The temperature in OCCB plummets.

“Is Sex Crimes looped in?” Reyes asks.

He glances between Bell and Elliot. Bell glances at him. Elliot shakes his head.

“I haven’t heard anything from Captain Benson.”

“Change that,” Bell says. “We’re gonna need all hands on deck. Her and her people.”

Elliot nods. He reaches for the landline and is about to dial the number that he knows by heart.

Incredulously, Whelan asks, “What’re you doing?”

Elliot pauses with his finger over the button.

“Weird time to get conscientious about personal cybersecurity,” Jet acknowledges.

Elliot gives her an exasperated look.

“Stabler?” Bell presses him.

“Captain Benson is a busy woman,” Elliot says. “She might be quicker to answer when she sees it’s a call coming from inside the house, so-to-speak.”

Bell narrows her eyes. Elliot does not flinch under her scrutiny.

“Is there going to be an issue with you two running point on this?”

“Absolutely not.”

Bell thins out her lips at his immediate response.

“That better be the truth,” she says. She points to the phone. “Make the call.”

“Got it, Sarge.”

Ignoring the watchful eyes of the others in the task force, Elliot dials the number.

Chapter Text

“Long time, no see.”

“Sergeant,” Olivia says, wearily. She and her lead detectives walk into OCCB. “We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”

“You’re telling me,” Bell remarks. “Stabler gave you the low-down?”

“He did,” Olivia confirms.

Her eyes flicker briefly to where Elliot is standing. The first thing that she notices is how he is wearing a fitted suit vest with his arms crossed. The stance makes his biceps bulge.

Elliot is far more defined now than when he was at any age that might be considered a man’s peak. So when he slips out of his jeans and is laid bare for Olivia’s eyes, she cannot help but feel slightly affected by the sight of him.

All of him.

Olivia inwardly curses when Elliot’s hand dips into her pants.

Olivia looks away and focuses on the sergeant.

“What’s the latest?” Olivia asks.

Bell hands the floor to Jet, who walks them through the detailed movements of the syndicate. She’s left no stone unturned, as usual. Olivia is so focused on the heinous nature of the crime that all previous thoughts of Elliot have faded.

“Where do we fit in?” Fin asks.

“We’re having a hell of a time tracking down the actual girls,” Elliot says. “The rest of them are in plain sight. The ones they’re trafficking must be in safehouses and once we find locations, it’ll be about convincing them to talk to us and …”

“Testifying,” Amanda sighs.

Elliot nods in response, but Olivia does not see it. She is still looking at the monitor.

“Financial paper trail?” Olivia asks.

“Not likely, but I’m working on it,” Jet says. “The ones running payroll are notoriously the worst compensated for their efforts, so I figured that might be where we’d get someone to flip. These guys are good. Unfortunately,” she adds. “I’m hitting brick walls.”

“Our squad is at your disposal,” Olivia tells Bell.

The sergeant nods in appreciation.

“A minute in my office?” she asks.

Bell looks between Olivia and Elliot as she makes what is more an order than a request. The former partners follow her up the stairs and away from the others.

Olivia slips in after Bell. Elliot closes the door behind them.

“What’s your read on all this?” Bell asks.

Olivia takes a deep breath.

“Aside from hating every part of it?” Olivia says. “The ones on top are young. Like, really young.”

“You noticed that, too,” Bell says, glancing at Elliot.

“Everyone starts looking young at this point, but the Captain’s right,” Elliot says. “These guys can’t be much older than Eli, if they’re even that old. As the only one in this room who was a teenage boy, it worries me.”

“How so?” Bell asks.

“I don’t care how smart or good they are at hiding in plain sight,” Elliot says. He crosses his arms. “At that age, you feel invincible. Nothing can touch you. Which could be our ‘in.’ Or it could be the thing that makes the bodies start dropping.”

Olivia listens to his reasoning. It’s sound, but she can’t help but dwell on one part.

At that age, you feel invincible. Nothing can touch you.

You can feel that way at any age, Olivia thinks.

“I need you two to keep me looped in at all times,” Bell instructs them. They both nod. “I mean it. If someone-so-much-as sneezes, I want to know the mucus’s color and brand of the tissue. We cannot afford to miss anything here or gate-keep on either end.”

Olivia opens her mouth and then closes it. She scrutinizes the other woman.

“Why does this feel like when you bring the entire grade into the auditorium to scold a few kids so no one’s singled out?” Olivia says. “Are you doubting my abilities to lead, Sergeant?”

She is deliberately pulling rank, but Olivia won’t let that bother her right now. Not when someone is suggesting that her priorities are anywhere other than achieving justice.

Resolutely, Bell replies, “No disrespect intended, Captain.”

Which is where Olivia would have left it. If not for the fact that she sees a look pass between the sergeant and detective right after Bell says it.

It is fleeting but noticeable. Olivia looks sharply at Elliot. His expression is inscrutable.

Olivia feels recognition — then, a rage — igniting from deep within her.

She could rip Elliot’s heart right out while it is still beating.

“I think it’s time we got to work,” Olivia says, coldly.

“Liv,” Elliot begins.

“I’ll be in touch, Sergeant,” Olivia says like there was no interruption.

Bell nods before Olivia turns on her heel and strides from the office.

“Jet gave me and Rollins some leads,” Fin says. “We good to bounce?”

“Go with God,” Olivia says. “But update me.”

“Got it, Captain,” Amanda replies.

“You’ll send me what you’ve got?” Olivia asks Jet.

“Already did.”

“Excellent.”

Olivia starts walking out of the task force. She gets as far as the hallway, which is out of sight from the rest of the group, when she feels a hand wrap around her forearm.

“Liv, wait.”

Olivia wrenches her arm out of Elliot’s grasp. He doesn’t fight it, but it still feels as though he scalded her just from his touch.

“I don’t know what you think went down back there,” Elliot begins.

“That?” Olivia says, laughing harshly. “That was humiliating.”

“Olivia …”

“Stop,” Olivia hisses.

Elliot falls silent. She is about to continue when something else occurs to her. Her face slackens and she stares at the detective in disgust.

“Bell made us point,” Olivia says, slowly, “and you called to let me know.” The wheels keep turning in her head. “On the damn landline.”

Elliot doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to in order for Olivia to get caught up and grow livid.

“What the hell did you say to her?”

“Nothing. I swear I didn’t —”

“Don’t lie to me,” Olivia snaps under her breath. “I know your half-truths.”

I know how you look when you come undone.

Olivia feels sick. Not just from having the thought in general, but right at that moment.

“All I said,” Elliot says, tersely, “is you’re busy. That you might respond quicker if I called …”

Olivia will later swear that she blacked out before he could finish the explanation. She reaches up, like she is prepared to smack him, before she clenches her hand into a fist.

“How dare you,” Olivia begins, “paint me as unprofessional. In any way.”

Elliot’s jaw works, but it is nothing compared to how Olivia feels. She wonders how many more ways there are for Elliot to make her feel small. For him to betray her.

He’s not the whole problem, she thinks. You betray yourself around him.

Rafael’s words come screaming back to her.

“I grew up in a home, in a neighborhood where I got bullied,” Rafael points out. “We’re gonna see him through different prisms.”

“This isn’t about him. This is about you and me, and how you betrayed me,” Olivia counters. “I asked you not to defend Wheatley, and you did anyway.”

“We’re going around in circles. You’re denying, you’re deflecting. You defend him. It's all right. I get it. That’s what you do when you love somebody, unconditionally.”

To a fault. Rafael didn’t say it, but he didn’t need to for Olivia to know his meaning.

And you shut him down, Olivia thinks. For daring to point out what everyone can see.

The Great Stabler Enabler. Olivia would laugh if it wasn’t so hopelessly pathetic.

She straightens her back and compartmentalizes all of it.

“Call me if there’s a development,” Olivia says. She has re-assumed her rank. “I’ll do the same.”

Olivia turns to leave the task force. Elliot does not try to stop her.

***

“Good grief,” ADA Dominick Carisi mutters.

Carisi stands behind his desk. His slicked-to-the-side, grey hair is perfectly quaffed, yet his face has a grim expression. One that ages him like it has done every member of their squad over the years from seeing what they see.

The former detective’s hands rest squarely on his hips as he looks down at the leads that the squad and OCCB task force are chasing down right now. Eventually, he looks up and sees a distant look on Olivia’s face. His frown deepens.

“So this is where we are.” Olivia does not show any sign of hearing him. “Where are you?”

It takes Olivia a few seconds to register his words.

“Nowhere. Right here.”

“As intriguing as Schrödinger’s captain would be as a thought experiment,” he drawls. “Years as a detective tell me that neither of those answers is fully true.”

“You sound like Barba,” Olivia says, hearing a subtle note of nostalgia.

Carisi’s expression softens. He sits behind his desk.

“What’s got you thinking of him?” Carisi asks.

Olivia averts her gaze. She shakes her head.

“Just have some decisions to make,” Olivia says, noncommittally. “He was always good at cutting through the bullshit. Even if I hated hearing it.”

“It still feels like his office sometimes,” Carisi says, glancing around them. “I was so jealous of his role here and how effortless it seemed. He understood where he belonged, and he wasn’t straddling two distinct career paths.”

“What about now?” Olivia asks.

“Now,” Carisi ponders. He leans back and shrugs. “I have no regrets. I do have more sympathy. If it weren’t for Amanda and the kids, I’d be a shell.”

“He never mentioned there being anyone waiting at home,” Carisi continues, pensively. “At least not to me. Come to think of it … I don’t think I ever saw where he lived.”

“Please. Don’t. Tell me. How. I. Feel.”

“In this case I can, because I do know what it means to love someone unconditionally.”

Olivia has tried to never let her mind go there.

She isn’t an idiot. Or oblivious. She saw how Rafael’s gaze could linger at times. Olivia knew if she called, he would drop everything.

Olivia told herself early on that she would not take advantage of that in a personal capacity. She was rarely as successful when it came to their working relationship. There were times when she traded on his desire to please her and it filled her with guilt for days to come.

Olivia loved him, too. It was a different kind of love. One that was no less real or fierce. A love that should have lasted far longer than many romances do.

Yet it still ended in heartbreak. Go figure.

“I need to get going,” Olivia finally says. “We good?”

“For now,” Carisi says. “I’ll get you your warrants once there’s more to work with.”

So it goes, Olivia thinks.

She walks out of the office, leaving behind its many ghosts.

***

There are three hard knocks on the door.

Elliot pushes off the counter and goes to open it. He barely pulls it all the way back before Olivia brushes past him. He blinks.

“We should have enough to execute warrants by the morning,” Olivia apprises him. “Thanks to Fin and Reyes.”

That doesn’t surprise Elliot. Those two would work well together. Neither one shies away from throwing himself headfirst into a situation despite the lack of intel.

“Carisi’s actually on board?”

“That’s what I said,” Olivia says, shortly.

That’s not at all what she said, but Elliot bites his tongue.

He closes the door and returns to the kitchen.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah.” He looks up when he hears anger in her tone. “Don’t ever make me look unprofessional like that in front of another colleague again.”

Coldly, Elliot says, “We’re colleagues now?”

“Wrong part to focus on.”

“I didn’t make you look like anything,” Elliot snaps. “Would you have answered if I called?”

“Yes,” Olivia shouts. “Because I’ve done the ‘ignoring your call’ before. And I’ve been on the receiving end of a voicemail to nowhere. I can do my job.”

“Then, why aren’t you out there doing it instead of riding me?”

Olivia’s eyes flash.

“You’re a real son-of-a-bitch.”

“Guilty,” he drawls. “Captain.”

Olivia approaches him. She stands there, just slightly below his eye level, and meets his gaze with the same fierce determination that she had in the 90’s.

Elliot doesn’t know what she is trying to prove now or to whom. Just that Olivia looks as resolute now as she ever has before. It’s what draws him to her. It’s what kept him fighting for his own life at times. The need to return to her and finish whatever it is they started back in ’98.

Elliot’s eyes drift down to her lips.

He cannot be sure who initiates it. He just knows that one moment, they are frustrated with the other. The next, his lips are sucking a deep bruise on her clavicle and clothing is falling around their feet like meteors.

“Is this the actual reason you came?” Elliot breathes into her skin.

Olivia growls. It’s a double entendre and they both know it.

Olivia reaches down and unzips the fly of his pants. Her hand snakes in and wraps itself around Elliot’s thick length. He nips her skin in response.

“Stop talking,” Olivia says.

“Or what?”

Her nails graze his shaft. Elliot’s eyes spring wide open in shock. Olivia smirks.

“I give as good as I get, Detective.”

Elliot kisses her hard. Hard enough to believe that he is bruising her lips. It isn’t long before he tosses another article of clothing across the room and latches onto her breast.

Olivia arches against the kitchen counter.

“Right here?” Elliot says. He lifts his lips from her flushed skin. “Right now?”

“Yes,” Olivia grits out.

“Want me to stop?”

Olivia’s eyes darken.

“Don’t you dare.”

Elliot yanks the remainder of Olivia’s clothes down her legs. After relieving himself of his clothes, he grabs her thighs so that he can lift her onto the counter.

He is so hard. So desperate for a release that he tried to ignore for the better part of a week.

Which is why he nearly comes undone as he pushes into her. The way that her heat, her slick walls, surround him is maddening. Elliot bottoms out and stares at her with wide eyes as she leans back against his kitchen counter.

Olivia’s hands grip the sides of the counter. Her legs wrap around his shoulders. They are not even slightly trembling until Elliot kisses her left inner thigh.

That is when Olivia whimpers. It is a sound unlike any that Elliot has heard or imagined hearing from the woman that he once believed he knew better than anyone.

Maybe Elliot does still know her, because it sounds like she is in pain. Pain from the intimate gesture. Not from a less-than-stellar angle or the fact that they’re two fifty-somethings who’re going at it like they’re in their twenties.

She’s not here for me, Elliot thinks. She’s here for a distraction from me. From us.

Elliot can give that to her. God knows, he needs it just as much. Olivia confirms his theory with two words that are as simple as they are complicated.

“Fuck me.”

Elliot obliges. He snaps his hips and she cries out his name. It encourages him, his movements rough and deliberate. His eyes bore down on her, watching as she closes her eyes and goes to another place. Another moment.

Are you still thinking about us? Elliot wonders. Another us, out-of-time?

Elliot’s eyes drift downward. They drink in Olivia’s curves, just like the last time, but mostly her breasts. Their fullness and the way that they sway with each of his thrusts. He slows down his movements for long enough to lick a strip with his tongue from her navel-on-up.

Elliot isn’t aware of it, but Olivia’s toes curl behind his head.

Suddenly, her eyes open when Elliot pulls out of her and slides her slightly up the counter. His cock is flushed, hard and leaking against his stomach. Despite knowing it will kill his knees, he lifts himself with ease onto the counter and hovers directly above her.

“What …?” Olivia’s voice fails her.

Shaking his head, Elliot brushes some sweaty strands of hair from Olivia’s face. Her eyes shut again at his touch. That pained look is back on her face.

“I know what this is.”

Elliot didn’t expect to hear himself sound so gentle as he says it. He does not even sound angry. Maybe he isn’t right now. Maybe it is as much about the anger and frustration as it is about Elliot wanting to lose himself in her to forget that anger. To forget a decades-worth of hurt.

“Okay?” Elliot says. “I do.” Olivia still won’t open her eyes. “But you’ve never just been someone who was ‘there.’ Not then. Not now. Even if you hate me for not being able to give you what you want again.”

Because I’m a coward, Elliot thinks. I can’t do that or fake it anymore now than I could then.

Olivia uses her elbows to slightly elevate herself. To brush her lips against Elliot’s. To press her rising and falling chest against his own. The kiss isn’t as hurried as before. It’s not as bruising.

It isn’t long before he is inside of her again. Their bodies move in sync until they are panting. They reach their climaxes with the other’s name passing their lips like an oath.

Olivia’s hands are no longer gripping the side of the counter either. They are behind her head. Elliot’s fingers are entwined with hers as he rides it out and coaxes Olivia through her high.

When blue meets brown, they stare at each other for an indeterminate amount of time. Elliot hasn’t moved, despite feeling a heightened and almost painful sensitivity.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

It comes out as a whisper. Olivia’s jaw works.

“That, as mad as I am,” she begins while breathing heavily, “I don’t hate this.” There is a long pause. “I don’t hate you.”

Elliot’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Olivia gives him a pitying look.

“I don’t know what that says about either one of us if that comes as a surprise.”

Olivia pats his hip, which is what motivates Elliot to climb off her. She sits up and slides off the counter so that she can get dressed. He follows her lead in silence. Both cops are lost in their own thoughts and their new reality. The thing that they need to make everything else …

Not better. Barely even more manageable. Elliot isn’t really sure there is a word for it.

It is hard to feel regret. Even when Elliot stares at the counter and vaguely makes a mental note to immediately disinfect it. Erasing the evidence, so to speak, is his only real regret.

Especially when she’s the best thing to come across that counter in weeks.

Elliot coughs, actually stunned by his own lewd thoughts.

He is only half dressed, from the waist-down, when he notices that Olivia is walking to the door.

“Liv,” he calls out.

Olivia stops in her tracks. Her shoulders are tense as she turns to look at him.

“May I?” he asks. Olivia takes a slightly shaky breath. She nods. “I need words, Liv.”

That gets a different reaction. Olivia looks sideways and up at him like she is seeing him for the first time. Not just in many years. Possibly, ever.

“Yes,” Olivia murmurs. “Thank you.”

Elliot hums. He begins kneading the two muscles on either side of Olivia’s neck, next to her shoulders. He applies slight pressure, then squeezes harder.

The effect is instantaneous. Elliot feels the knots loosen and is given further confirmation by the gasp that slips past Olivia’s lips. She tenses again.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Elliot encourages. “The point is for it to feel good.”

Elliot stirs when Olivia clears her throat.

“What is it?” she asks.

Her voice is measured. Careful.

She’s protecting herself, Elliot thinks.

From you, another voice taunts him.

Before he can second-guess himself, he says the words that have weighed heavily on his mind — and his heart — since last weekend.

“I don’t want to lose you more than I already have.”

Now Olivia looks taken aback.

“What about …?” she begins before shaking her head. “What about what led us here?”

“I don’t know,” Elliot says, truthfully. “What I do know is I keep fucking it up. But wouldn’t it be weirder if I didn’t care at all?”

Olivia is silent for a long moment.

“We’ve been through this,” she finally says.

Fervently, Elliot says, “This isn’t as cheap as you’re making it out to be.” He tightens his buckle with unnecessary force. “Me being mad doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“You still don’t get it,” Olivia cries. “I can’t take how much you care!”

Elliot falters. His arms drop to his side as he stands there, half-dressed.

“How you care hurts,” Olivia says, quieter.

Another night where he was half-laid bare. Another half-completed conversation.

“How would you have me care?” Elliot asks.

It isn’t exactly accusatory. It borders on desperate. Elliot needs guidance and Olivia has already made it clear that she isn’t going to hold his hand through this one. He doesn’t even think Olivia will respond with an answer.

Except …

“By trusting me,” she says. “By trusting that if I was with someone for almost a year, if I not only let him into my life but my son’s life, that it was real. It was important.”

A tear slips out before Olivia can brush it away.

“That if I’m still this protective of it,” she continues, “it mattered.”

“You …” Elliot pauses. “You mentioned he died. That you weren’t ready for something more and then he died.”

“I know what I told you.”

“How did Tucker die, Olivia?”

Olivia shakes her head. She turns and walks all the way to the door.

“Look it up, don’t look it up …” Olivia trails off. “But I can’t do this right now.”

No, Elliot agrees with renewed guilt.

Even he sees the problem there.

“I’ll call if those warrants come in earlier.”

Those are Olivia’s last words before she leaves his apartment.

The door thuds behind her.

***

Noah is asleep. Olivia’s files are scattered across the kitchen table.

She stares at the countertop. Floating somewhere above her own body.

“Fuck me.”

Elliot obliges.

Olivia is not sure when she picked up the bottle of wine. She just knows that she is itching for a glass and that terrifies her. She puts it back in its resting spot and grabs some ginger ale.

She then arranges her files and places them in her bag. Next, she sits on the sofa and stares at the black screen of her phone. Like if she stares for long enough, it will call the person who is on her mind.

Olivia unlocks the phone. Her finger trembles as it hovers over the screen in anticipation. She makes the call and stares at her pale face, unsure if she is making the right decision.

For either one of them.

“Hi,” he picks up after the third ring. “Sorry, my hands were wet. Is everything okay?”

Olivia closes her eyes for a moment. That voice is just so familiar. So nostalgia-inducing.

“I’m ready now,” Olivia manages to choke out. “Are you still there?”

“When you’re ready to stop feeling betrayed by me, I’ll be here.”

Rafael Barba doesn’t even miss a beat.

“Always,” he says. More urgently, he adds, “What’s wrong?”

Olivia’s laughter sounds strained to her own ears.

“Aside from being a totally selfish hypocrite intent on self-sabotaging?” she says. “Who pushed away the one man who was always real with her?”

“In all fairness, he can be a dick when he wants to be,” Rafael says. He says it so quickly that she barely registers the dry humor. “Are you hurt, Liv?”

Olivia opens her mouth before closing it.

“Not in any way that’s a threat,” she says.

“I don’t like how that sounds.” He takes a deep breath. “At risk of wrecking the precarious place that we find ourselves …”

“Yes,” she interjects. “It involves Elliot.”

“Got it.”

Uncertainly, Olivia says, “Should I not’ve called?”

“No, I’m glad you did.” Again, he doesn’t miss a beat. “I … I can listen.”

It comes out more like a question than an offer. Olivia runs a hand over her face.

“Maybe some other time. This deserves to be about us,” Olivia says. “The only reason I brought him up is because, as ironic as it may sound, what pulled us apart is what made me realize that I should’ve never let this go on for as long as it has.”

“Wanna unpack that?”

“Not sure I can right now,” Olivia says with a weak laugh. “That was hard enough to admit.”

Rafael opens his mouth to say more when another voice cuts in from off-camera.

“Rafi,” the man calls. “Have you seen a red folder? My current case.”

Olivia knows that voice. She and Rafael stare at each other. She sees both of their eyes grow comically wide.

“Is that Huang?”

She watches as Rafael looks above the camera with a wry smile. The man shakes his head at something and then slightly jerks his head.

“Yeah … Hey, Olivia,” Dr. George Huang says.

His voice is hesitant in a way that Olivia never heard in all their years working together. There is a good chance that it’s unrelated to their current set of circumstances.

Olivia remembers their last encounter. She had choice words for Huang in the elevator. Finding reasons to burn down her friendships seems to be a pattern of behavior.

Maybe because it beats the alternative of them leaving first.

Olivia isn’t sure if that pearl of wisdom belongs to her own inner voice, Dr. Lindstrom, or the doctor who is staring at her through the screen.

“I gotta say,” Olivia says after a beat. “I’m usually pretty good at noticing these things. I didn’t see this one coming.”

“We’ve kept it pretty low-key,” Rafael says, glancing at Huang’s image on the screen. “No matter what anyone says, this city is a small town.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Olivia murmurs.

“Check that it didn’t get mixed in with my briefings,” Rafael tells Huang. “I moved things when I was cleaning earlier.”

A smile creeps onto Olivia’s face when Huang kisses Rafael’s temple in thanks.

“It was good to see you, Olivia.”

“Yeah. You, too,” she replies.

She genuinely means it. Olivia observes Rafael as he watches the other man leave the room. Until he catches her watching him.

“Don’t,” he warns, but a smile threatens to overtake his face.

“You’re happy,” Olivia says.

Deliriously happy would actually be more accurate. Her words might even sound accusatory if she wasn’t suddenly so happy for her old friend.

Softly, Rafael confirms, “I am. Would you believe it?”

Olivia’s eyes soften. Rafael clears his throat and tries to downplay the moment.

“It was a long-time coming,” Olivia insists.

Rafael tilts his head. Those wide, green eyes of his — the eyes of a yearner — pore into Olivia. It’s as though they are sitting in the same room together. Hell, he could be sitting beside her on the couch.

They did that enough times after a tough day. Sometimes debriefing. Sometimes in total silence when all they needed was companionship.

“So was this,” Rafael declares. “All those damn colors, Olivia Benson. They turned me into an optimist. And it sure as hell was worth it.”

“I haven’t …” Olivia feels a lump rise in her throat. “I haven’t even apologized.”

“I already told you that I understood why you were upset with me,” he says. “Intentions aside, I knew what retaining your own agency meant … means to you. I thought that I knew better. I’m still trying to reconcile how I became the type of person I find fault in.”

Olivia knows what he is not saying and, as defensive as it makes her, she sees the truth in it. More than she would let herself when Rafael walked out of Forlini’s for the last time.

“I miss Forlini’s,” Olivia whispers. “And you.”

“We’ll always have Forlini’s,” Rafael says. His face is somber, but achingly genuine. “And you still have me.”

A chill runs down Olivia’s spine.

“It’s okay,” Ed says. “We’ll always have Paris. You know, I’ve always wanted to say that.”

Olivia brushes under her left eye.

“I’ll let you get back to your boyfriend,” she says, coyly. Rafael cackles. “We’ll talk soon?”

“Count on it,” Rafael promises. “Take care of yourself, Liv. Promise?”

Olivia takes a deep breath and nods.

“I promise.”

***

Olivia tries.

The case is difficult. They get their warrants. They execute said warrants. The guys that they are looking for are young, but they are also quick. Clearly, whoever is behind it all has brains as well since they catch wind that the police are sniffing around and scatter like rats.

It is infuriating and devastating. Olivia gives more attention to this case than the others that are piling up due to its vastness. She brings it home with her, when she is home, and she’s positive that they just need one win.

Just one. That can be all it takes to turn things around.

She knows everyone else is frustrated. Tempers are shorter than usual. Her detectives and those in OCCB are hardly sleeping. Olivia actually gets into a shouting match with Amanda when the blonde refuses to take thirty minutes in the crib.

“It wasn’t a request,” Olivia says over the sound of the other woman’s protests.

“Captain —”

“Go!” Olivia shouts. “Now.”

Amanda glowers at her before storming off to the other room. Knowing her, as Olivia does, she will spend those thirty minutes glaring at the wall despite nearing a complete burn-out.

“Show’s over,” Fin announces.

Olivia jolts and looks around, only now noticing several not-so-subtle stares.

“Do we seem any closer to solving this?” Olivia demands. “Get back to work.”

Everyone scurries back to their tasks. Olivia isn’t afraid to give orders, but it isn’t every day that she’s so short with the squad. Even on the tough cases, she manages to keep some degree of composure and patience.

“That sounded fun,” a voice says from her left.

Olivia briefly closes her eyes.

Patience really isn’t in the cards today.

“Got anything?” Fin asks. “Or just here to state the obvious?”

Elliot huffs in amazement. He looks at Olivia, who jerks her head toward the office.

“Knock if there’s a break in the case,” she tells Fin. “Otherwise, no interruptions.”

“Got it,” Fin confirms.

Olivia follows Elliot into the office and closes the door behind her. She locks it and doesn’t need to draw the blinds. She has kept them drawn for days now. Everyone in the squad knows when Olivia is behind that door and no one can see her, she is chasing after total concentration.

“Does OCCB have anything?” Olivia asks, wearily.

“We’re working it from every angle, Captain,” Elliot says. “You’ll be the first to know.”

He sounds as worn out as she feels.

“If the Sarge sent you here for an update, she’ll be disappointed,” Olivia says. She sits behind her desk. “The last woman we brought in here has a sister who might be one of the girls being trafficked …”

Sharply, Elliot asks, “She give you anything?”

“She’s gone,” Olivia says, darkly. “Vanished.”

“What the hell?” Elliot demands. “She had information and you let her leave?”

Olivia is on her feet in a flash and rounding the desk.

“Don’t pull that shit,” she warns him. “We kept her here as long as we could. We put unmarked cars on each end of her block.” Her volume is rising. “Hell, I was ready to move in with her.”

“Captain …”

“She’s gone,” Olivia says, slamming her hand on the table.

Then, because it is not enough, Olivia picks up an empty mug and hurls it across the room. It shatters upon impact with the wall. She breathes heavily before she starts walking toward the corner to collect the shards.

“Don’t.” Elliot’s hand is in front of her arm. “Let it be a mess.”

Olivia stares up at him before her eyes well up with tears. She barely has time to register Elliot pulling her into a tight embrace.

She closes her eyes and buries her face in his shoulder.

“We’re gonna get them,” Elliot says. His tone holds enough conviction for the entire squad. “I’m dead serious about that. We’ll get them.”

“I know,” Olivia sighs. She steps back after another few seconds and wipes under her eyes. “Did you come here for a specific reason?”

“I was led to believe I wasn’t playing well with others.”

Ah.

“So you thought you’d spread the wealth?”

Elliot’s smile is humorless and doesn’t come close to reaching his eyes.

“Pretty much,” he says. “Figured I might be useful somewhere.”

“You would be,” Olivia prefaces, “if we were still partners and this was Cragen’s squad.”

“Rollins is your ‘me’, huh?”

“Yeah,” Olivia says on an exhale.

“Guess I owe Cragen a few hundred apologies.”

“We all do.” Olivia groans in exhaustion and throws herself down on the sofa. “I can’t figure out what we’re missing.”

“That’s because you’re exhausted,” Elliot says. He falls into a squat in front of her. “When’s the last time you actually slept? For longer than a few minutes.”

Olivia stares at the ceiling.

“The night before we executed those first warrants.”

Elliot’s face slackens.

“Olivia, that … that was almost a week ago,” he says. “No wonder Rollins pitched a fit. You’re just as liable to drop.”

“Whose side are you on?” Olivia grumbles.

“The side that keeps Noah’s mom safe and alert.”

Olivia shoots him a warning look.

“Don’t do that.”

“It’s the truth and you know it,” Elliot counters. “God knows you won’t do it for yourself. So —”

Olivia squeezes the bridge of her nose.

Loudly, she says, “Okay.” Elliot falls silent.

Olivia does her breathing exercises. When she starts to rise, Olivia immediately sees spots in her vision and sways in place.

“Hey, hey. Steady,” Elliot quickly says. “I got you.”

Fuck, Olivia thinks.

She suddenly finds herself sitting on the couch and hears the door open before seeing it.

“Sarge,” Elliot calls out.

“Elliot, don’t,” she hisses.

“We need water and a cold compress.”

Olivia hears more than one set of footsteps. The first ones to enter the office are Detective Terry Bruno, Carisi — who she didn’t even know was in the squad room — and then …

Olivia looks at the clock.

“You still have ten minutes.”

Unhappily, Amanda replies, “You need it more.”

But Olivia hears the concern laced in her tone.

“Here we go,” Fin says, barreling into the office.

“Would you all get back to work?” Olivia sighs. “I’m …”

“Stop saying you’re fine,” Elliot interjects. “None of this is fine. We’re burning it from both ends.”

“Especially you, Liv,” Carisi says with a frown. “I’ve never seen a case affect you this much.”

“Guess I’m getting older,” she says, flatly.

“Sure as hell beats the alternative,” Bruno says.

“Man’s right,” Fin agrees. “But you’re gonna wreck that streak if you don’t take care of yourself. I can keep things moving here.”

“Fin …”

“Captain.” Olivia purses her lips. “We need you more than for one case.”

Olivia’s gut twists at the implication of his words.

“I can give you a ride home.”

Olivia looks at Elliot. His expression is strained but earnest. He looks more worried than usual, which makes Olivia feel uncomfortable. When they fight, it makes sense. When they are sweet with each other, it’s okay.

But this? The concern? Neither one of them is stellar about accepting protection or care from the other. Maybe it is residual guilt, because their version of caring for each other has always crossed a professional boundary.

A boundary that became less defined when Elliot lost Kathy. One that is a spot in the distance now that they have slept together on more than one occasion.

Fervently, Elliot says, “This isn’t as cheap as you’re making it out to be.” He tightens his buckle with unnecessary force. “Me being mad doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“You still don’t get it,” Olivia cries. “I can’t take how much you care!”

Elliot falters. His arms drop to his side as he stands there, half-dressed.

“How you care hurts,” Olivia says, quieter.

“I can pick up Noah,” Amanda chimes in.

Olivia looks up at her, realizing that she zoned out for a minute.

“We’ve got this, Liv,” Fin says, emphatically. “Let us have your six.”

Olivia folds the compress and puts down the glass of water. She wouldn’t be able to swallow around the lump in her throat anyway.

“I know,” she murmurs. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Elliot asks.

There is still hesitance in his voice, so Olivia nods.

“I could probably use some rest.”

Elliot opens his mouth, but Carisi quickly clamps a hand down on his shoulder.

“You know best, Captain,” Carisi says.

Olivia doesn’t miss Elliot’s scowl out of the corner of her eye. Or how he jerks his shoulder out of the counselor’s grasp. Olivia’s lip twitches in amusement while staring directly at Carisi.

Her friend and colleague offers her a playful wink.

Chapter Text

The drive to Olivia’s apartment is silent.

Neither one of them makes any effort to fill the car with small talk. Frankly, Elliot doesn’t feel all that compelled at the moment. It isn’t an awkward silence and when he stops at a light halfway through the ride, he notices that Olivia has her eyes closed anyway.

“We’re here,” Elliot eventually announces.

He puts the car in park. When he glances to his right, Olivia slowly opens her eyes. Elliot unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches for the car door handle.

“Elliot.”

He is already out of the car and so is Olivia. She surveys him from over the roof.

“I can make it upstairs,” Olivia says.

“I know you can,” Elliot replies. “Humor me?”

Olivia frowns slightly, but she doesn’t protest further. The silence persists on their walk up to the apartment. No one else is in the elevator midday and the corridors are just as empty.

Elliot watches as she unlocks the door. She turns to him with a knowing look.

“All good,” she says. “Thanks for the ride.”

Elliot gives her a strange look.

“You never have to thank me for that,” he says. “No matter what we are, I’ll always …”

Elliot trails off mid-sentence. Be there for you? Not quite.

“You’ve always had my back,” Elliot says on a course-correct. “You deserve the same.”

Olivia blinks. Her lips lift slightly in recognition and her nod is practically imperceptible. She is about to walk in when he reaches out to stop her.

“You can tell me to kick rocks if you hate this idea.”

“Oh, boy,” Olivia says with a slight huff. “Alright, hit me.”

“While you get some rest,” Elliot prefaces, “I can pick up dinner for you and Noah. If you give me your key, I’ll drop it off while you’re lying down.”

“That way,” he rushes to continue, “you can have an actual meal together and won’t have to worry about picking up or preparing anything.”

Olivia stares at him for what feels like a long time. He isn’t even sure that she has blinked in the past minute. It is more than a little disconcerting.

“Or,” Olivia proposes, “I could order on my phone for three instead of two.”

Elliot’s mouth is drier than a few seconds ago. He blames it on the way that Olivia looks up at him through those long lashes with her brown doe eyes.

“You sure?” Elliot asks. “Things have been sorta …”

“Ugly?” Olivia finishes when he doesn’t. “Noah keeps asking when he can hang out with you again.” She gives him a searching look. “I did say he gets easily attached.”

Was he that way with Tucker? Elliot wonders.

He wisely keeps the thought to himself. He asks a different, but no less important, question.

“Just him?”

Olivia gives him another long look.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

She motions for him to follow her inside. He obliges and locks the door behind them.

“I don’t know if I ever said …” Elliot murmurs. “This is a great place.”

Quietly, Olivia replies, “Thank you.”

“Do you ever miss the old places?”

“The one you knew, no,” Olivia says, firmly. “Even before …”

A shadow crosses over her face. One that Elliot has seen a few times, but he never asked the cause of it and she never offered it up to him.

“She was your partner.” Elliot bristles. “You haven’t asked her what happened in those years?”

Elliot doesn’t at all like the fact that whatever did happen was so bad that it made the news. It reached his daughter who — he knows for a fact — Olivia wouldn’t share her information with unless it was some degree of public record.

“There’s been a lot going on,” Elliot mutters. “What can you tell me?”

“Uh-uh. Absolutely not,” Kathleen says, forcefully. “Don’t you dare look it up either.”

“Even before I moved out,” she continues, “it was just four walls and a roof.”

“And the last one?”

Elliot asks it quickly and he cannot pinpoint the exact reason why. Is it because he sees how he put Olivia on edge? Is it from shame that he doesn’t know why and still doesn’t know how to ask her about it?

Is it because there is an aspect of it all that makes his blood boil?

You should’ve been there, he tells himself. You should’ve been there for Liv.

Olivia’s voice pulls him from these internal reprimands.

“Noah took his first steps there,” Olivia says, losing some of the tension in her shoulders. “There were great memories in there with a lot of great people. But there were traces of ghosts as well.”

Olivia drops her bag on a dining room chair. Elliot watches as she removes her hair tie and lets down her hair. She shakes it out with a contented look.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay,” she suddenly says. Elliot blinks. “I’m gonna go take a shower before lying down.”

“It’s not an obligation,” Elliot says, unwavering. “They kicked my ass out of the squad room, but I wouldn’t put it past Jet to send me updates and new leads.”

Olivia nods. She shrugs off her blazer and lays it on the back of a chair.

“If she hasn’t or it’s not pressing,” Olivia says, slowly. Elliot waits. “You know where I’ll be.”

Olivia gives him a scorching look. Elliot feels a strong tug in his navel when she unbuttons the top button of her blouse.

Then, she turns and walks in the opposite direction.

Fuck, Elliot thinks.

***

The stream of water cascades down Olivia as it washes away the day.

Or even the week, when she stops to consider it.

Her hair is slicked back, darker as drops freckle her bare shoulders, and her eyes are closed. She chases any form of decompression possible.

There is a clicking sound. Without looking, she knows that a better form of decompression has just walked through the door.

The shower door opens. She moves further up so that her visitor has some space. Not that it really matters in the end.

Not when he stands flush against her. Or when she feels the hardened length of him pressed against the curve of her ass. Olivia reaches back and squeezes him. His lips come down and suck hard on the back of her neck.

“Nowhere visible,” Olivia rasps. “I have a reputation, Detective.”

His lips curve against her pulse point.

“Tough in the streets, in control in the sheets?”

Olivia’s laughter is full of rare delight.

“Catching on.”

“I like to think I’m more of a lion than a leopard. More adaptable. With any luck, better with age.”

Olivia turns so that she is chest-to-chest with Elliot.

The water sprays down on the two of them. Olivia traces her fingers down Elliot’s left bicep in an effort to chase after the rogue droplets.

“Let’s see some more evidence,” Olivia purrs.

Elliot’s eyes darken.

He swoops down and captures her lips between his own. The sudden act draws a moan from her. Olivia’s arms wrap around his neck and she grinds forward. It sends a jolt of electricity to her core. Elliot responds by licking deeper into her mouth.

It isn’t a practical setting for what either of them want to do and they learn that fast. The floor is slippery and the curtain keeps billowing at their legs. They break apart from a kiss at one point, and Olivia can’t help it. She laughs into Elliot’s mouth.

Despite how close they stand, she sees a slight grin on his face.

“This is ridiculous,” Olivia says once she catches her breath.

“Not quite the turn-on they show in movies,” Elliot agrees. Dragging his hands down her body, he adds, “Company, aside.”

“Clearly,” Olivia quips with her lips turning upward.

She reaches for her loofah to resume showering. What strikes her is that, as she showers, she feels far less exposed around Elliot than she has in the previous times that the sexual activities ceased. His watchful eyes are not full of the same heat as before. But they are watchful.

Olivia tilts her neck slightly to get a better angle and shivers slightly at how his gaze scans her. Like he is soaking her up every bit as much as the water.

She is about to start on her hair when she notices that he is holding her shampoo. Elliot raises his eyebrows in question and she feels that uncertainty return.

Why is he offering this? Olivia wonders. What are we even doing?

Olivia isn’t sure that she will ever feel ready to pull at that thread.

She turns before sidling back toward him. Olivia hears the slight crack of the bottle opening and waits as he squeezes some product onto his free hand. Soon enough, he’s working the product into her hair.

Olivia does not know what it is about that man’s hands, but they do work wonders. It is like him giving her the shoulder massage all over again. Which, as if he can read her mind, is precisely what Elliot does once her hair is good and lathered.

Olivia’s eyes open wide when she feels him work out a particularly big knot.

“El …” she moans.

“Is this okay?”

Olivia hadn’t realized his face was so close to her body. She feels the words more than she hears them over the spray of the water.

“You know it is.”

They repeat the process with her conditioner until she is basically a trembling mess.

“You okay?” he asks.

Elliot’s voice is deep and she hears a distinct note of concern. Olivia can only imagine how wide her pupils are blown. If she looks as wrecked as she feels, it’s a reasonable question.

“Let’s get out of here,” Olivia says.

She gives him a look and sees recognition in his eyes. It does not take long for them to dry off — she accepts that she’ll have a wet bed regardless — before they return to her bedroom.

Olivia lies on the bed with her towel still wrapped around her body. She gives Elliot a preview while sticking her middle finger between her lips.

“Fuck, Liv,” Elliot groans.

Olivia sees how his body responds when she exposes herself. She braces one foot on the bed and reaches down so the finger previously in her mouth can massage the top of her opening.

“Do you have any idea how hot you look?” Elliot growls.

“Some idea,” Olivia says with earned confidence.

She watches through hooded lids as Elliot starts stroking himself. There are droplets of water on his shoulders and pecs. Olivia’s finger glides down without warning. She arches her back as she slips it through her entrance and hooks it.

Olivia lets out a huff of laughter at the string of curses that pass Elliot’s lips.

“You’re welcome to join me at any time, Detective.”

Olivia sighs as she removes the finger, immediately clenching around nothing, but finds herself otherwise preoccupied by the man hovering above her.

“Will you let me take care of you?” Elliot asks.

Olivia’s heart stutters.

Not just from the implication of the words, though that is something as well. She has wanted to hear him make that request more than anything else over the years. The “ask” means more to Olivia than Elliot flying into a rage to defend or protect her.

“I know how to protect myself,” she says, deliberately. “I’m not a civilian.”

“You’re not a superhero either.”

Will you let me take care of you?

Her choice. Feeling seen.

If that isn’t Olivia’s love-language, then she doesn’t know what is at this point.

“Yes,” she answers.

Which is how, despite her previous aversion to it, she finds herself experiencing a much gentler side of Elliot Stabler. A man whose gentle kisses leave a trail of fire on her skin. Whose touch is simultaneously capable of igniting and soothing the more sensitive parts of her body.

An Elliot Stabler who, as he slowly rocks into her, stares at her with more intensity than Olivia knows how to deal with at any given moment. Let alone one where she’s so vulnerable. Open.

She sees the words on his lips. Words that she has heard before and did not know how to react to then. Words that he said as he was spiraling. Now, as they are wrapped in each other’s orbit, the words are drifting nearer like a meteor.

So Olivia kisses him. Mostly because she craves the sensation, but also because Olivia is not even a little bit ready or emotionally equipped to confront their larger feelings.

After two decades, more life-threatening scenarios than she can count, and now going to bed with each other three times, how absurd is that?

“Liv, I’m gonna …” Elliot groans.

Olivia strokes his cheek with her hand.

“What are you waiting for?”

Now it is Elliot’s turn for his entire body to tremble. He spills inside of her and Olivia clenches around him in response. Her nails drag down his back and she tilts her head backward with a gasp. Dancing spots appear behind her eyes and her toes curl.

Olivia is so overwhelmed that she doesn’t realize there are tears on her cheeks until she feels Elliot thumbing them away. She opens her eyes and blinks several times before she can meet his concerned gaze.

“I’m okay. I’m good,” Olivia reassures him. “It’s …” Her cheeks flush. “A lot.”

Elliot brushes his lips against hers. Olivia reciprocates the kiss, but it ends before it can go anywhere else. She mourns the loss of heat from Elliot’s body when he rolls off her.

“Not going far,” he promises.

Elliot is telling the truth. Olivia stares blankly when he returns with a washcloth and clothes for her to sleep in that he must have grabbed while she was still out of it.

All at once, the fatigue hits her and her eyes get heavy.

“Hold on,” Elliot says. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Can do it,” Olivia murmurs. “Thanks.”

It feels like it takes longer than it probably does in reality. She is soon clean, dressed, and under the covers that are — miracle upon miracles — dry.

“I’ll be right outside,” Elliot tells her.

Olivia’s hazy mind takes longer to process the words.

“‘Kay.” She turns onto her side. “Don’t let me sleep too long.”

Right as Elliot reaches for the doorknob, she whispers, “Promise?”

Elliot’s hand falters. He turns to look at her with slight hesitation.

“I promise,” he replies.

He thinks that they have different definitions of “too long” right now.

Olivia doesn’t register that. She is already fast asleep.

***

Elliot does manage to be more than slightly productive.

He makes some calls and gets some work done from Olivia’s living room. Bell expresses her surprise that he has not come skulking into their unit again, but that she’s glad to see Elliot is prioritizing rest for a change.

Well, he thinks. Someone’s rest.

But the truth of the matter is that being with Olivia is good for him. In spite of how tumultuous they have found things recently, he cannot help but think that they turned a corner earlier. He finally seems to have said some version of what she wants to hear.

Even though she stopped him from almost saying the one thing that she ought to hear.

Elliot will never forgive himself for how he said those three words the first time to her. Or how he found a way to downplay and redirect them as if they were not coming straight from his heart.

It is slightly past four o’clock when Elliot hears the key in the lock. He looks up seconds before the door opens and Noah walks into the apartment.

The boy locks eyes with Elliot.

“Is Mom okay?” Noah immediately asks.

“She’s fine,” Elliot quickly confirms.

“Told you.”

Elliot’s eyes drift behind Noah to where Detective Amanda Rollins is standing. She gives Noah a knowing look until the boy turns back to Elliot.

That is when Rollins gives Elliot a different sort of knowing look.

“She’s resting,” Elliot continues, speaking directly to Noah. “It’s been a long week.”

“Yeah,” Noah sighs. “I miss her.”

“She misses you, too, bud,” Rollins says with a sympathetic shoulder squeeze. “I’m sure she’ll be up soon. Why don’t you get started on your homework in your room?”

“Alright,” Noah says, reluctantly.

Noah is about to walk off when Rollins clears her throat. She extends a palm.

“Are you forgetting how well I know your mom?” Rollins teases. “No phone while you work.”

Grumbling, Noah hands her the phone before trudging off to his bedroom.

“You’re strict,” Elliot says with a teasing lilt.

The smile slides off Rollins’ face. She turns to look at him.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Rollins says. “Mostly, because you don’t know me.”

“Touché.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure.” Rollins sits on the opposite side of the kitchen counter. “I’m familiar with your type.”

Elliot purses his lips.

“What ‘type’ would that be?”

“Users.” Elliot tenses. “Not in the way it sounds. It’s clear you’ll do anything for anyone you care about. Even if it’s someone you don’t know. Especially if they are unable to help themselves.”

“But it’s still a form of ‘using,’” Rollins continues, “because you’re lost without it and you won’t stop. Even if they ask you to.”

Elliot opens his mouth to speak, but Rollins only pushes forward with more conviction.

“Just like you were lost without Liv, but you didn’t have the decency to let her go.” Elliot feels the weight of that suckerpunch land. “You forced her to let you go.”

Coldly, Elliot replies, “That’s an oversimplification.”

“Why?” Rollins challenges. “Because it doesn’t feel good? Users don’t like being called out. And I’m speaking from experience before you try to tell me again that I’m full of shit.”

Rollins shakes her head. The most insincere smile that Elliot has seen creeps onto her face.

“It’s like looking in a goddamn mirror,” Rollins says. “Two people punching above their weight.”

A chill runs down Elliot’s spine.

“I’ve spent years working on myself so Sonny doesn’t have to constantly remind me that he isn’t settling,” Rollins says. “How many times have you broken Liv’s heart in the past two weeks?”

Too many, Elliot thinks.

His face must betray his thoughts, because Rollins hums in response.

“How many more times are you planning on doing it?”

“I’m not … Liv would hate this,” Elliot snaps. It’s a clear deflection. “Whatever this is.”

“One hundred percent,” Rollins confirms. “I am, without a doubt, overstepping.” Rollins tilts her head. “Feels like shit when your own MO is done to you, huh?”

Elliot stands up and paces toward the window. As he passes the island, a memory comes back to him. A memory from another night in Olivia’s kitchen after he had learned that she and Noah were in danger. After he brought Noah back home to her.

“I care for you.”

Fast-forward to a more recent night in that same apartment. Emotions tearing through the walls that they carefully constructed. Piercing them hard and unexpectedly like ricocheting bullets.

“Me being mad doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“You still don’t get it,” Olivia cries. “I can’t take how much you care!”

“What do you want me to say?” Elliot eventually asks. “That Liv’s too good for me? No shit. It’s basically a precedent that I take the women I love for granted.”

Despite her previously well-maintained Poker face, he sees how Rollins absorbs his words.

“Does Liv know that?”

Elliot scrubs his hands over his face in frustration.

“You’ll have to ask her,” he replies. “Wouldn’t want you to accuse me of speaking for her.”

Rollins opens her mouth to respond, but she never gets the opportunity. They turn at the sound of a door opening. A tired-looking, but slightly-more-rested Olivia is standing there.

Elliot’s heart clenches at how she rubs her eyes. He has seen her plenty of times over the years without makeup, but it always feels different. It hits slightly more personal. It always leaves Elliot wondering what it might be like to wake up to that view first thing in the morning.

I love you, he desperately thinks.

“I’d ask if I’m interrupting,” Olivia says, slowly, “but it is my kitchen.”

“How’re you feeling?” Rollins asks.

“Groggy, but better,” Olivia replies. She glances around. “Noah in his bedroom?”

“Yep.”

Rollins lifts the phone off the counter as evidence. Olivia smirks.

“Good girl.”

Olivia squeezes Rollins’ shoulder in appreciation as she passes her. The older woman’s eyes linger momentarily on Elliot before she goes to the cabinet to grab herself a clean glass.

“Are there any updates on the case?” Olivia asks no one in particular.

“We were making headway when I left to pick up Noah,” Rollins says. “I’m headed back before Sonny and I attempt to get through one uninterrupted dinner at my mom’s. Kim and Mason are joining. So is Mom’s live-in boyfriend.”

“That sounds …” Olivia falters.

“Like your average night in hell?” Rollins supplies. “Time will tell.”

Elliot watches as she hops off the stool. The blonde walks over to Olivia and gives her a tight hug. He doesn’t miss when Rollins whispers something in Olivia’s ear.

Olivia doesn’t respond other than to give some sort of nod of acknowledgment.

“Stabler.”

Elliot gives a two-finger wave that Rollins doesn’t see anyway. The latter walks toward the door and, with one fleeting look toward Olivia, exits the apartment.

Elliot turns when he feels Olivia’s gaze on him.

“What did I interrupt?” she asks.

Elliot opens his mouth and then closes it. He does it once more before settling on an answer.

“A parallel reckoning.” Olivia furrows her brow. “She cares about you.”

Elliot only appreciates the irony in his choice of words after he says the last part.

“I know,” Olivia says. “That’s what worries me. I can speak for myself.”

“She and I agree on that much,” Elliot replies. He leans against the wall. “You’re really okay? I know it got … intense before.”

“That’s a word,” Olivia exhales. She nods. “I’m okay. It’s actually the best I’ve slept in a while. Don’t,” she warns, “say a word.”

Elliot rolls his lips and mimes zipping them shut. Olivia rolls her eyes and takes a sip of water.

“I didn’t want to assume what you and Noah’d want for dinner,” he prefaces. “But I remembered you saying he’s always asking for Thai and saw there’s a spot about three blocks from here.”

“His favorite place,” Olivia says with a fond smile. Elliot grows more relaxed. “That sounds nice.”

Wordlessly, Elliot hands her his phone so that she can input exactly what they want to eat. She does, glancing up periodically, as he carefully studies her. He smiles every time Olivia looks at him and admires how it brings a slight flush to her cheeks.

He is so gone for her. It would embarrass Elliot if it didn’t make so much sense.

“He’s gonna be thrilled,” Olivia chuckles, handing Elliot back his phone.

“Score one for Stabler,” Elliot quips. “I was due one.”

Olivia smirks but keeps any thoughts that she has to herself.

What he wouldn’t do to look inside her head for just a day.

***

“I don’t know why you guys don’t eat here every night,” Elliot says, glancing conspiratorially at Noah. “Hands down: best Pad Thai I’ve had in years.”

“Told you,” Noah says to Olivia.

“Yes, you have,” Olivia agrees. She gives Elliot an exasperated but fond look. Looking back at Noah, she emphasizes, “Repeatedly.”

She starts stacking dishes and collecting the leftover containers.

“I can —” Elliot begins.

“Sit,” Olivia insists. “You’re the proud sponsor of this dinner.”

I’m good, she reminds him with her eyes.

Elliot’s lip twitches, but he acquiesces to her. Olivia starts bringing the dishes to the sink so that she can rinse them before running the dishwasher. But not before she hears Noah’s question to her former partner.

“Is Italian food better in Italy?”

Olivia glances at Elliot and meets his eye. He doesn’t look uncomfortable by the question per se, but it is certainly a loaded one. No matter how innocuous it may seem to Noah.

“Depends,” Elliot replies. “I preferred it the further south we went. The ingredients were much fresher. More seasonal. Best seafood I’ve had in my life.”

“Because of the Mediterranean Sea?” Noah asks.

Smiling, Elliot replies, “That’s right.” Leaning forward, he adds, “But between you and me, I was more partial to the coffee. Took me a minute to readjust to New York brews.”

“Pretentious,” Olivia coughs from the kitchen.

“I know what I like,” Elliot drawls. “Nothing wrong with that.”

Olivia shoots him a warning look when she catches the way that he is looking at her.

“How’s the project coming?” Olivia asks, changing the subject.

“Finished the diorama,” Noah sighs. “I’m almost done with the report.”

Olivia tilts her head with her eyebrows raised and points toward Noah’s bedroom.

Noah glances at Elliot. The man fights back his laughter.

“I think that’s your cue,” Elliot says, sympathetically.

“Thanks for dinner,” Noah says.

Elliot smiles again and nods. Olivia resumes her clean-up process.

“It bears repeating.” Olivia raises her eyebrows but doesn’t look at Elliot. “He’s a great kid.”

“Thank you,” Olivia murmurs. “I’m … hopelessly proud of him.”

“It’s great seeing you when you’re with him,” Elliot continues. Olivia looks at him that time. “It’s like he breathes additional life into you. A different kind of purpose.”

Olivia’s heart thrums in her chest. She licks her suddenly dry lips.

“It’s me and him,” Olivia says, simply, even though it’s anything but.

“What is it?”

Olivia looks at Elliot. She sighs at his ability to detect even the slightest tonal shift.

“I love that it’s me and him,” Olivia clarifies. “I just worry about …”

She shakes her head. She doesn’t want to think about a day when she is gone. Olivia hopes that it is far off and hopes even more that Noah will have found a partner, close friends, or a combination of the two. She never wants him to feel alone.

Not like she did far too often.

“It’s different for your kids,” Olivia eventually says. “They’ll mourn when you’re no longer here …” Christ, she doesn’t want to think about that either. “… but they’ll have each other.”

“That’s true,” Elliot says, carefully. “But from what I’ve seen, Noah’s got no shortage of people who love him in his life. Whether it’s your friends in the squad or their families. There’s an age gap between him and Carisi and Rollins’ kids, but you’ve mentioned they’re close.”

“That’s true,” Olivia agrees. She dries her hands after loading the last of the silverware. “God knows he’s more outgoing than I ever was, especially at his age. Making friends for him is as natural as breathing.”

“Then there’s that.” Elliot is now leaning with his elbows on the counter. “Anyway … he won’t have to think about that for a long time.”

Here’s hoping, Olivia thinks.

Her next words come spilling out before she can censor them.

“We spoke about my mom.” Olivia clears her throat. “He asked about her.”

If Elliot is surprised, he hides it well.

“How’d that go?” he asks.

“Is there a word for when something is equal parts healing and makes you feel as if you’ve just stripped off layers of skin?”

Elliot seems to genuinely consider her question.

“‘Honest,’” he says, decisively.

Olivia tilts her head in acknowledgment. She leans against the apron of the sink and crosses her arms. She looks straight ahead instead of making eye contact with him.

“I didn’t get into … Well, me and her. Not really.”

“That’s fair.”

“He had asked if she was sick when she died.” Olivia scratches her eyebrow. “It felt like the right time to tell him she was, even if it wasn’t in the way that he meant it.”

Olivia blinks twice and looks at Elliot. His gaze is focused on her while also remaining gentle.

“That part about him being a great kid?” Olivia chokes out. “El, he held my hand through it and then gave me a hug when he wasn’t sure how to respond.”

Now it’s Elliot’s turn to blink fast.

“So, not just a great kid,” Elliot says, gruffly. “A good one, too.”

Olivia wipes under her eyes and nods. She laughs when she remembers something.

“When I apologized for it getting so heavy, he scolded me for not taking my own advice about not apologizing for how I feel.”

A grin spreads across Elliot’s face.

“He Benson’d you.”

“He what?” Olivia says in disbelief.

“He Benson’d you,” Elliot repeats.

Olivia stares at him.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Blame Cragen. He’s the one who came up with it.” Olivia’s eyes bug out in shock. “What else would you call it when someone validates you in your most vulnerable, raw moments?”

“Not that,” Olivia drawls.

She shakes her head in amazement. Before she can move from her spot, Elliot speaks again. His words stop her cold in her tracks.

“Did Tucker ever do that?” Olivia stares at him. “I swear it’s not a judgment, Liv. It’s a genuine question.”

Olivia does not know what to think. She isn’t sure if their past conversation was just Elliot taking the long way ‘round to ask her the question that was clearly on his mind. Olivia doesn’t think so, because she is the one who brought everything up, but the seed is planted.

Don’t give it water, she thinks.

“Yes,” she answers. Elliot stares at her in anticipation. “I don’t know what else you want me to say, Elliot. Do you really want to hear how he was a source of comfort? I wouldn’t have stayed with him if his only personality trait was ‘that asshole from IAB.’”

Elliot looks conflicted but, to his credit, he swallows any untoward response.

“You said he’s the closest you came to seeing a future with someone.”

Olivia runs a hand over her face. She nods.

“It might’ve worked, too,” Olivia says, “if we weren’t in totally different stages of our lives.”

“Was it Noah being so young?”

“No,” Olivia replies. “He knew and accepted that Noah would always be my number one priority. He was ready to retire and wanted to start that next chapter with someone else who was ready.”

“And that wasn’t you.”

It isn’t a question, but Olivia shakes her head.

It’s still not, she thinks. This job matters too much to me.

“That’s not the kind of thing that would be a compromise,” she says. “That would be a sacrifice. Too big of one for anyone to call it ‘love’ without resentment factoring in somewhere.”

“But it was still hard.”

Again, it isn’t a question.

“It was awful.” The word catches slightly in her throat. “God knows I never saw it coming. Any of it. What made no sense on paper ended up being such an important chapter of my life. There … he witnessed things that I still have trouble talking about. Things that, if it weren’t for his support, I may have coped with in the wrong way.”

Olivia sees an unfamiliar emotion in Elliot’s eyes. It takes her a moment to identify it as fear. Not the fear that she was accustomed to seeing when they worked cases as partners.

It isn’t even the type of fear that she’s seen in his eyes when she has gotten hurt in the line of duty. It’s more … refrained. Like he is trying hard to suppress it.

“Hey,” Olivia says, softly.

She walks to the counter and reaches for his hand. Elliot accepts hers and Olivia squeezes his own in return. He releases a shuddery breath.

“Can I ask in what way?”

Olivia looks down momentarily, but she nods to assure Elliot that he has not overstepped.

“There was a lot of pile-up for a while,” Olivia says, keeping that part of it vague. That is not for tonight. “I felt it. I somewhat acknowledged it. But Tucker started seeing warning signs when I was overwhelmed with life and work and maybe drinking more than I should.”

Olivia focuses on the feeling of Elliot’s hand wrapped around hers. Her thumb gently strokes the side of his hand before she continues.

“It never amounted to anything more than him noticing it and subtly letting me know he saw it,” Olivia says. “But I needed that.” Smiling wryly, she adds, “At least until science discovers some way for me to keep my therapist in my pocket.”

Her attempt at levity through dark humor doesn’t land. She sees it in Elliot’s eyes and how they are glassier than usual. He presses his lips together and shakes his head.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “This is about you. Not me.”

“What affects one affects the other,” Olivia points out. Elliot’s jaw works. “Out of everything, it’s obvious that hasn’t changed.”

Olivia isn’t sure how, but it feels as though Elliot has a stronger grip on her. The pressure of his hand hasn’t actually increased, but it somehow keeps them both anchored to reality.

Hesitantly, Olivia says, “Now I have a question.”

Elliot meets her eye and waits for her to continue.

“Did you look it up?”

“By trusting me,” she says. “By trusting that if I was with someone for almost a year, if I not only let him into my life but my son’s life, that it was real. It was important.”

A tear slips out before Olivia can brush it away.

“That if I’m still this protective of it,” she continues, “it mattered.”

“You …” Elliot pauses. “You mentioned he died. That you weren’t ready for something more and then he died.”

“I know what I told you.”

“How did Tucker die, Olivia?”

Olivia shakes her head. She turns and walks all the way to the door.

“Look it up, don’t look it up …” Olivia trails off. “But I can’t do this right now.”

“No,” Elliot admits. “I couldn’t be sure you weren’t saying it out of anger or because you didn’t ever want to discuss it. I can, but … it felt like taking the easy way out.”

Olivia releases a deep breath. She nods more to herself than to him.

“He got remarried,” Olivia eventually says. “Had a family. Then, a few months before the world went into lockdown, I attended his retirement party and we were thrown into each other’s orbit one more time because of a case.”

“The short version is, the doctors caught the cancer in his lungs before we were together. By his estimate, the ripple effect of sifting through debris after the Towers went down” Olivia purses her lips. “It reached his brain, leading to him having significant memory lapses.”

“Liv,” Elliot begins, heavily.

Olivia shakes her head and gives him an exhausted look.

“But they can treat that, right?”

Olivia hears the desperation seeping into her own voice.

“They can,” Ed confirms. “But … the doctor just told me I have six months to a year.”

The air is pulled right from her lungs.

“Oh, my God,” Olivia gasps.

“It is what it is.”

“Son-of-a-bitch was … well, him about it,” Olivia says, clearing her throat. “Pragmatic. He tried to act unaffected. I’m not sure for whose benefit, but it was obvious he was terrified. Not about dying, but the fact that he wouldn’t be himself anymore.”

Diplomatically, Elliot murmurs, “Who wouldn’t be?”

Olivia nods in agreement. The bile starts to rise to her throat.

“Most people let themselves lean on others in those moments. Allow themselves to be reminded that both sides agreed to ‘in sickness and in health.’”

A tear slips out. Then, another. Elliot pads one away with his thumb, which makes Olivia’s heart clench. Her face twists in pain.

“I had my limits and clearly he had his own, too,” Olivia chokes out. “We spoke one last time and finally said what needed to be said.” She takes a breath. “And then I would learn that he took his life with his old .38 so he wouldn’t become a ‘burden’ to his wife.”

Elliot goes rigid. For a second, Olivia worries that Elliot is about to start ranting about the other man. But something seems to clear when he sees whatever is visible in her eyes, because he walks around the counter and pulls Olivia into a hug.

Olivia buries her face against his shoulder and tries to stifle her sobs. The last thing that she wants or needs is for Noah to hear her. As it is, she is praying that he doesn’t walk out of his bedroom and see them how they are right now.

“I’m sorry, Liv,” Elliot whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

It feels slightly like a blanket apology. An apology for what happened. An apology for his role in bringing it back to the surface, even though Olivia knows that it will always linger in the corners of her heart and mind. Perhaps even an apology for not giving her a chance, in her own way or time, to explain it before jumping down her throat.

They stay standing as they are, even after she reins in her emotions. Olivia closes her eyes as Elliot gently strokes her hair. She barely resists the urge to purr when Elliot coaxes out some of the residual knots from her nap.

“Thank you for telling me,” Elliot says into her hair. She responds with a slight nod. “I know you didn’t have to. I know I didn’t give you any reason to trust that you should.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Olivia says. She leans back so that they can look at each other. He looks confused. “Amanda’s been working overtime the past few weeks.”

“How do I explain that to someone who knew him as the guy that tried to take the job away from us?” She pauses for effect. “Why should I have to?”

“It’s not really about what you should have to do,” Amanda acknowledges. “It’s whether or not Stabler’s worth it.”

Olivia sees the follow-up question that is screaming from behind Elliot’s eyes. She is prepared to answer it. What would be the point in leaving him hanging?

If it weren’t for the fact that her phone chose that exact second to ring.

“You’re on speaker, Fin,” Olivia answers. “What’s up?”

“Stabler with you?”

“He is.”

Olivia’s eyes haven’t left the man who is still holding her.

“What’s going on?” Elliot asks.

“We’ve got a location for the girls.” The cops step back and go rigid. “There’s a lot of movement, but backup is already en route. This might be our last chance.”

“Send me an address,” Olivia says right as Elliot’s own phone rings.

No doubt it’s Sergeant Bell.

Olivia’s phone dings with the coordinates. She exhales.

“We’ll be there soon.”

“Copy that,” Fin says before Olivia ends the call.

“Got it,” Elliot says into his phone. “Yes. Okay.”

Olivia doesn’t hear how the rest of the conversation goes, because she is already running to Noah’s bedroom. She opens the door without warning.

“Mom,” Noah sighs in exasperation. “You promised.”

“I’ll knock next time,” she rushes out. “Elliot and I need to go.”

Something shifts behind Noah’s eyes.

“A case?”

“That’s right,” Olivia says. “If you need someone …?”

“The Malcolms across the hall,” Noah recites. “Or Aunt Amanda’s mom.”

Olivia strides over to him and kisses the top of his head.

“I’ll keep you posted,” Olivia promises. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”

Olivia starts walking back toward the door. She only slows when she hears a quieter:

“Please be careful.”

Olivia turns to look at her son. She nods fervently at him.

“Always.”

Chapter Text

Olivia releases a breath.

They did it.

“We did it,” Amanda says, walking over to her.

“Did you at least get to finish dinner with the family?” Olivia drawls.

Amanda smirks. She shakes her head.

“Got out just before dessert,” Amanda replies.

“You owe Carisi, don’t you?”

“Big time,” Amanda laughs.

“Captain Benson.”

The women turn in the middle of the warehouse parking lot. There are flashing lights and shouts coming from every which way. Both from cops and emergency medical technicians.

It was Elliot who called for Olivia. He is approaching the duo with …

“Allison,” Olivia breathes. She looks from the woman to the younger girl beside her. “This must be Melanie.”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Allison tells her sister. Melanie looks between the adults with wide eyes. Her sister tightens her grip around her shoulders. “I told you Captain Benson would find us.”

Softly, so softly that Olivia nearly misses it, Melanie adds:

“She did.”

“I’m so glad we did,” Olivia says. “But I can’t take credit for tonight. It was my detectives, not to mention Detective Stabler and his unit, who broke this wide open.”

“And,” Olivia adds, emphatically, “we couldn’t have done it without Allison’s help.”

“She’s the brave one,” Melanie whispers.

“I see two brave girls standing here,” Amanda contradicts.

“Detective Rollins took the words out of my mouth,” Olivia says.

Elliot’s phone starts ringing. Olivia glances at him.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Excuse me.”

He steps aside. Olivia returns her focus to the sisters.

“You were both incredibly brave,” she reminds them. “I have no doubt you’ll continue to be that way through what comes next. Don’t be afraid to lean on one another.”

“We won’t,” Allison says with a slight smile. “Thank you again.”

Olivia doesn’t quite hear those last words. Her attention is split after seeing a flash and sudden movement in her periphery. She whips her head around right before hearing the sound of a —

“Down!” she screams.

CRACK!

Olivia reacts instinctively by lunging forward to drag Allison to the ground. It would have brought Melanie down with them, even if Amanda hadn’t already reacted identically to her.

They hear several shots of returning fire. No one moves. Then, silence.

“Is everyone okay?” Amanda asks. “Girls?”

“I … I’m …” Melanie stammers.

“Were you hit?” Amanda says more forcefully.

“I’m good,” Allison gasps. “Mel, are you okay?”

Melanie bursts into tears and clings to her older sister.

“She’s … She’s okay,” Allison barely manages. Then, “Oh, my God.”

Olivia rolls over and immediately presses a hand to her side. Her eyes are blown wide.

“Shit. Captain, where are you hit?” Amanda rushes out.

“Gr-Graze …” Olivia wheezes.

“Liv!”

Olivia blinks several times. She is suddenly looking into a terrified pair of blue eyes.

***

It was Kathleen who had called him.

It is Kathleen who is screaming his name through the phone after he finishes returning fire and one of the perps, who got his hands on a weapon, is dead on the floor.

Elliot cannot say for sure that the perp is dead, but him looking like Swiss cheese makes it an educated assumption.

“Kathleen,” Elliot says, quickly.

“Oh, thank God,” she cries.

“Honey, I’m fine. I’m safe, but I’ve gotta go. Love you.”

“I love —”

Elliot will apologize profusely later for ending the call mid-response. Kathleen, to her credit, will show all the grace and patience possessed by her namesake.

But Elliot cannot think about that. Not when the next words that he hears loud and clear are:

“Captain, where are you hit?”

He spins around on his knees and feels his heart drop.

Elliot sees Olivia’s lips move, but he isn’t able to understand what she says. His limbs practically work on their own accord until he crawls, like he is levitating on all fours, over to her.

He is pretty sure that he calls her name at some point.

Not Olivia, he thinks. You can’t take her. Not her.

“You’re okay,” Elliot insists. He moves her hand and immediately applies pressure to the wound. Over his shoulder, he shouts, “We need some help!”

“El,” Olivia breathes. “I’m … okay.”

Why is she lying to him? Elliot sees it in her eyes how much pain she is in right now. The blast knocked her off her feet. He never saw it coming. Elliot should have seen it coming.

Both times.

“Sir, step back,” an EMT says.

Elliot wrenches his shoulder out of someone’s grasp.

“I’m not going anywhere!”

“Stabler, let them do their job,” Rollins insists.

“I’m not leaving her,” he snarls.

“El. Elliot, listen to me.”

His eyes find Olivia’s. He wonders if they look as wild as he feels. Based on the concern in hers, he suspects that they might. That’s wrong, too.

Stop worrying about me, Elliot thinks. I don’t deserve it.

“Elliot.” He focuses on Olivia. “It’s a graze. My vest got most of it.”

“We need to move her,” another EMT says.

Elliot is lifted to his feet. He pivots, ready to clock whoever is putting their hands on him, and finds himself face-to-face with Fin. The man grabs him by the shoulders and jostles him.

Before Fin can speak, something else catches his eye.

“You!” Elliot bellows.

Elliot breaks out of Fin’s grasp and barrels full force at the rookie.

“Are you fucking clueless?” Elliot shouts. “How could you let one of them get your weapon?”

“Stabler, cool it,” Fin orders, pulling him backward.

The rookie is pale-faced and shaken, but Elliot doesn’t care. Not even a little bit.

“This is on you!” Elliot screams, pointing at the kid.

“Sergeant, control your rottweiler,” one of the higher-ups tells Fin.

“Say that again,” Elliot challenges him. “Say that to —”

“Detective Stabler!” a new voice barks.

Elliot turns and glares into the equally unhappy eyes of Sergeant Ayanna Bell.

“Sarge —”

“Don’t start with me,” she warns him. To Fin, she adds, “He’s yours. I’ve got this.”

Bell motions to the mess that she clearly thinks Elliot made. Fin uses all of his body weight to corral Elliot back to where they were before.

Elliot is about to go off again when he realizes that something important is missing.

“Where is she?” Elliot says, looking around frantically. “Where’s Olivia?”

“En route, jackass,” Fin snaps. “Bruno.” The detective materializes beside him. “Get Stabler over to the hospital. Don’t let him bully you.”

“Got it, Sarge.”

“Where are you going?” Elliot asks.

Fin is wearing a deep frown.

“Your little stunt fired up the press pool that arrived just in time for the fireworks. The captain has a son who shouldn’t hear about this on the news or his feeds.”

The color drains from Elliot’s face.

“I can —”

“You need to be with Liv,” Fin cuts him off. “Be with her.”

There is no room left for argument. Fin takes off, and Elliot feels the base of a fist tap the side of his shoulder. He turns to look at Bruno.

“Come on,” Bruno says. “Lights and sirens.”

“Lights and sirens,” Elliot echoes with a nod.

The two men run toward the younger detective’s car.

***

Noah nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears three sharp raps on the door.

His mother hasn’t texted. She would call him if she had forgotten her key, which she never does. Noah runs to open the door, but something causes him to pause.

A voice. His mother’s voice.

Check who it is.

Noah peers through the peephole.

“Fin?”

“Good man. That’s right, it’s me.”

Noah hurries to unlock the door. His heart pounds when he is finally looking directly into the eyes of the NYPD sergeant.

“Your mom’s okay.”

Noah feels himself grow clammy.

His voice shakes as he asks, “Where is she?”

“Getting patched up. That’s why I’m here. We didn’t want you reading anything online and assuming the worst.”

“I want to see her.”

“Good.” Noah runs to grab his wallet from the kitchen counter. “Stabler’s already there. So is Rollins. Liv isn’t alone.”

Noah barely registers these words or how they are probably meant to reassure him. He needs to see it with his own eyes that his mother is okay.

Because, at the end of the day, it’s him and her against it all.

***

“What’s going on, Dad?” Kathleen asks as soon as he answers the phone.

“Kath said she heard gunshots when she called you earlier,” Maureen chimes in next.

“Where were you?” Elizabeth asks.

“Where are you now?” Eli demands.

“Guys,” Dickie says in exasperation. “Let him talk.”

Elliot runs a hand over his face. He releases a long, unsteady breath.

“Dad?” Kathleen says, timidly.

“I’m fine. I’m at the hospital,” Elliot responds. “Olivia was shot.”

There is more than one intake of breath.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Eli asks.

“Of course she is. It’s Olivia,” Kathleen interjects. “How is she?”

Elliot stares out at the momentarily quiet parking lot. There is plenty of activity going on inside the hospital, so he stepped outside to take the call and get away from the chaos.

“Elliot.” He focuses on Olivia. “It’s a graze. My vest got most of it.”

“Dad?” Elizabeth says, breaking him from his thoughts.

“She said it was a graze.”

Sounding confused, Dickie says, “You weren’t there when it happened?”

“I was,” Elliot clarifies. “I …”

“El,” Olivia breathes. “I’m … okay.”

Why is she lying to him? Elliot sees it in her eyes how much pain she is in right now. The blast knocked her off her feet. He never saw it coming. Elliot should have seen it coming.

Both times.

“It happened quickly,” Elliot falters. “We all just reacted. I couldn’t …”

Elliot hears his voice rise in pitch. He feels himself growing more agitated.

Clearly, so does his second eldest.

“The guy who shot her was handled, right?” Kathleen interjects.

“Kathleen,” Maureen says, sounding appalled.

“Olivia’s gonna be fine,” Elliot says, more to reassure himself. Something catches his eye. “Fin just got here with Noah. I have to go.”

“Send him and Olivia our love,” Maureen says.

“And actually call us if you need anything,” Kathleen says. “Even if it’s just to talk.”

“Love you all,” Elliot mutters before ending the call.

“Elliot.” Noah is jogging toward him. “Where is she? Where’s my mom?”

“The doctor is with her now,” Elliot says. “She’s okay. She was wearing her vest, which helped.”

“Not enough,” Noah says, indignantly. “What happened?”

Elliot looks at Fin, who tilts his head as if to say:

Your guess is as good as mine as to how to explain this.

“Your mom saved more than one life tonight,” Elliot settles on. “And she’s going to be okay. That’s what we need to focus on right now.”

Fin nods in approval from behind Noah before squeezing the boy’s shoulder.

“We should —”

“Detective Stabler,” a new voice interrupts. “Is it true you accosted a fellow officer tonight?”

Elliot’s eyes turn sharply on a man who, if Elliot were to wager a guess, is a reporter. Two others join him seemingly out of nowhere.

“What’s the latest on Captain Benson’s condition?” another reporter asks.

“Is it true she dove in front of a bullet to protect one of the trafficked girls?” the third asks.

“What?”

Noah’s voice is so small. So fearful. Elliot sees red when he looks between the reporters.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Elliot demands.

Unfortunately, they seem to have pieced together who Noah is based on his reaction.

“Are you Captain Benson’s son?” the original reporter asks. “Have you seen your mom yet?”

“Sergeant Tutuola,” the second reporter says. “Do you have any comment on your CO’s actions tonight, especially given she has a young child at home?”

“How old are you, son?” the first reporter interjects.

“Fin, get him out of here,” Elliot says with a dark expression.

The reporters continue shouting after the two as they leave. When the first tries to break off and follow Fin and Noah, Elliot takes action. He grabs the man by his lapels and body slams him into a nearby pillar.

Elliot ignores the shouts from the other two reporters.

“Let me go!” the man shouts.

“Why?” Elliot says, sardonically. “So you can continue harassing a terrified teenager?”

“He’s old enough to speak with us,” the second reporter says. “Without parental approval.”

“This is police brutality,” the first reporter says.

He is still struggling to break free of Elliot’s grasp.

“You’re gonna lecture me on ethics and brutality,” he begins, slowly, “when you’re justifying traumatizing a thirteen-year-old, because it’s legal?”

He slams the man into the pillar again. The latter groans in pain.

“I made my bones arresting creeps like you who prey on young kids,” Elliot snarls. “I have no problem going back to my roots. Especially to protect someone I care about.”

Elliot jostles the reporter again before releasing him. The man stumbles before standing upright and glaring at the detective.

“I have witnesses to this brutal attack,” he snaps, pointing at his cohorts. “I’ll have your badge.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

Elliot recognizes that voice. Hearing it now is almost as unpleasant as the actual situation. Elliot, nonetheless, glances over his shoulder.

Counselor Rafael Barba is standing there with an arched eyebrow. Standing beside him, to Elliot’s immense surprise, is Dr. George Huang. The latter is staring intently at him while his attorney companion levels the reporter with a look that Elliot assumes intimidates most people.

“You could press charges,” Barba continues. “But then you’d have to watch as I turn a jury on you faster than a New York minute. They don’t generally take kindly to the free press abusing their status when it goes against the best interest of a child’s welfare.”

“And rest assured,” Barba adds, coldly, “they won’t be the only ones who see Detective Stabler as protecting said child’s welfare. Captain Benson will be right up there with them. Is that really a fight you think you can win?”

“Is that a threat?” the reporter gapes.

“I didn’t hear a threat,” Barba says, raising his eyebrows. He looks from Elliot to Dr. Huang. “Did anyone else?”

Calmly, Huang says, “Only an astute observation regarding a mother’s love.”

Shooting the trio withering looks, the reporters get out of there before the situation can devolve further. Elliot watches them go to make sure that they don’t double back and sneak inside.

“Long time no see, Detective.”

Elliot looks at Huang and raises an eyebrow. He nods.

“Back at ya, Doc.”

Elliot looks pointedly at Barba and says nothing. The other man scoffs.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what, exactly?” Elliot fires back. “I don’t need the help of someone who makes his living defending men who are guilty as sin.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you need?” Barba challenges.

When Elliot glares at him, Barba glances ironically at Huang.

“Perhaps just a good shrink,” Barba intones.

“Rafael,” Huang sighs in exasperation.

Aside from the use of Barba’s given name, it does not escape Elliot that these two men are extraordinarily familiar with each other. It does not do anything to lift Elliot’s spirits.

Elliot had plenty of disagreements with Huang over the years, but he mostly came to trust his once-colleague’s instincts. His choice of companion certainly calls that back into question.

It is clear that the psychiatrist senses it.

“Why are you here?” Elliot eventually asks Barba.

Barba gives him a pitying look that raises Elliot’s hackles.

“I don’t make a habit of dignifying stupid questions with equally asinine responses,” he says. Turning to Huang, he says, “Coming, Medicito?”

Fuck’s sake, Elliot thinks.

“In a minute,” Huang replies. “I’d like a word with Detective Stabler.”

Barba walks off without another utterance or glance in Elliot’s direction.

That’s just fine.

“Still as expressive as ever without saying a single word.”

Elliot turns slowly to look at Huang.

“Seriously?” Elliot says. “Him? You do know that he not only defended, but he got off the man who murdered Kathy.”

“I know he did his job and he had his reasons for doing it,” Huang says. “And regardless of how any of us feel about it, it happened how it happened.”

“And I’m supposed to, what?” Elliot challenges. “Move on?”

“I would never say or suggest that,” Huang says, evenly. “You loved your wife and she was the mother of your children. No one expects you to befriend Rafael. Not even him.”

“Please,” Elliot says, scornfully. “He doesn’t want to be my friend.”

“No,” Huang agrees. “I don’t expect either of you would’ve been friends even if things played out differently. There isn’t a big enough sandbox in the world for you two to share.”

Elliot gives the man an unimpressed look.

“Don’t make this about Liv.”

“Of course it’s about Captain Benson,” Huang says, exasperated. “You’ve known her longest. You mean to say you haven’t figured out that her gravitational pull keeps this whole universe going, just as much as it has the power to rip it apart by the seams?”

Elliot furrows his brow.

“What happened between you two?”

Huang sighs.

“I disappointed her,” Huang says. “Which, for whatever it’s worth, was a source of bonding between myself and Rafael.”

“So you’re here now, because …?”

“I never stopped caring. Neither one of us did,” Huang says. “And if, God forbid, the situation were reversed, I don’t doubt Olivia would find herself where we are now.”

Elliot feels himself shift inwardly under the doctor’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Olivia’s forgiven you for quite a bit, it seems,” Huang says. “More than the average person might feel they’re capable of forgiving.”

Elliot, for once, remains silent. Huang purses his lips in recognition.

“I hope you don’t take that privilege for granted.”

Huang turns on his heel and walks into the hospital.

Elliot bristles under the presumption before ultimately following him.

***

“So much for trusting your gut.”

“Heeey, she’s got jokes,” Olivia deadpans.

Amanda grins from the doorway. When it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, Olivia gives her a reassuring smile. She motions for the detective to come into her cubicle.

“What’s the verdict?” Amanda asks.

“Just like I said. A superficial graze,” Olivia says. “Landing on the ground knocked more wind out of me. They’re not even keeping me overnight.”

“That’s good news,” Amanda says, breathing out heavily. “Mostly for the hospital. You have an entire peanut gallery out there waiting to see you.”

Olivia furrows her brow.

“Who —?”

“Mom!”

Olivia’s eyes widen as Noah rushes into view. He runs over to her and throws his arms around her. She hugs him back tightly with one arm while looking over his shoulder at Amanda and Fin.

“Hey, I’m okay,” Olivia reassures him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“The news crew were working fast,” Fin grimaces. “I told him you’d be okay, but you know how they can spin it. He needed to see for himself.”

Noah pulls back and looks at her with upset eyes.

“Is it true you jumped in front of a bullet?”

Olivia’s eyes grow wide in shock.

“No,” she says, emphatically. “I … No. Noah, where did you hear that?”

“We had a run-in with some of the Most Watched, Least Trusted.” Olivia stares at Fin. “Stabler’s taking care of it.”

“Taking care of …” Olivia trails off. “He’s going to need a union rep.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Now Olivia really feels out of sorts. She turns her head and meets those familiar, distinguished green eyes. Rafael Barba gives her a solemn smile.

“Questionable digs, aside,” Rafael prefaces. “It’s good to see you, Liv.”

Olivia does not let herself think about it. She reaches out to him. Rafael accepts her hand and she squeezes his hand in return. She smiles wordlessly at him, knowing that he’ll understand.

Rafael smiles right back, because of course he does.

Even when he infuriates her, even when he disappoints her …he intrinsically understands her. It was more than humbling. It was terrifying and another aspect of why she pushed him away.

“Either you got taller or I’m already shrinking,” Rafael remarks.

Noah rolls his lips and looks hesitantly at Olivia.

This right here is more complicated.

Noah always knew Rafael as “Uncle Rafa”, and then he was just gone. It was different from when her relationship ended with Ed. There was a period of time where Noah was confused, wondering where Ed was, but he was younger and less explanation was required.

Despite Rafael leaving the city for a period of time, he and Olivia did FaceTime when they had the rare opportunity of both having free time at the same time. After he returned to the city, the two of them still spoke on occasion despite their hectic schedules and he always called to wish her and Noah happy birthdays.

Then, it all stopped. Olivia suspects that Rafael would have continued sending birthday cards to Noah regardless of their falling out, but she made her position on their pseudo-split clear to him. As for Noah’s side of things, all that Olivia told him was that she and Rafael needed time.

Noah, as perceptive as he is, didn’t push her on it. Olivia even wondered if he wasn’t affected by it, because he was older by then and Rafael wasn’t fully active in their lives.

Now she knows that she likely misread some aspect of it. The look that Noah gives her — as if seeking permission to acknowledge Rafael — is extremely telling. Enough that he grasps it was once extremely tense between the two adults.

“He’s practically taller than me,” Olivia says, giving Noah a reassuring smile. “And likes to remind me by putting things in impossible-to-reach places.”

“Ball-busting runs in the family.”

“Fin,” Olivia groans.

But Olivia appreciates his effort to diffuse the strained situation. The sergeant simply smiles cheekily as the others laugh.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Olivia finally says. “You didn’t have to come all the way down here. They’ll be discharging me soon.”

Suddenly, she remembers something else.

“What’d you mean Elliot wouldn’t need a union rep?”

“George and I got here as …” Rafael’s eyes flicker to Noah. Pivoting, he says, “I just reminded the reporters that juries don’t look kindly on members of the press abusing their position when children are involved.”

“You’re gonna defend Stabler?” Amanda says in disbelief.

“I doubt it’ll come to that,” Rafael replies, shortly. “Either way, I doubt I’d be able to access my legal services. Seeing as it was suggested I shove them in a hard-to-reach place.”

Noah snorts and looks down at his shoes. Olivia sighs in exasperation.

“Speak of the devil,” Rafael continues.

Olivia follows his gaze and sees George standing by the cubicle’s curtain flap.

“Captain,” George acknowledges with an incline of his head.

“Doctor,” Olivia says, tentatively.

She is less sure of how to navigate his presence than she is about Rafael’s. Rafael’s betrayal hurt her more, but they were close friends. She respected George and enjoyed the occasions where they shared one another’s company, but they always maintained a strictly professional dynamic.

To put it simply, George has less reason to seek her forgiveness or even want it. The way that their working relationship fractured was disappointing to her, but it didn’t leave her rudderless. Not like these past few years have felt without Rafael by her side or meeting her eye from the front of the courtroom.

There is also the fact that the two men are now a couple. Olivia doesn’t put much stock in what others think of her, especially when she feels entitled to her anger, but it is more than a little bit uncomfortable to wonder about George’s take on her and Rafael’s dynamic.

George isn’t the only one searching silently for clarity. Just then, Elliot appears behind him. The first thing that Elliot’s eyes zero in on is how Rafael is still holding her hand.

Olivia squeezes Rafael’s hand and the latter understands. He releases it and squeezes her shoulder. She looks up at him.

“Sigue encontrando buenos problemas,” Rafael says in a low voice. “De forma segura.”

“I’ll try,” Olivia says after a beat.

Her Spanish vocabulary is rusty. She has always had an easier time reading and speaking it than hearing it anyway. But, if she is correct, Rafael said:

Keep finding good trouble. Safely.

Rafael and George duck out after the exchange. It just leaves Fin, Amanda, Noah, and Elliot.

“Would one of you mind bringing Noah home?” Olivia asks her squad members. “They said this will be quick, but I’m not holding my breath. It must be a full moon.”

“No, I want to stay here,” Noah protests. “You still haven’t told me what happened.”

“I promise I will,” Olivia reassures him. “But it’s late and you’re gonna turn into a pumpkin.”

Olivia gently squeezes Noah’s chin. He squirms away from her touch.

“If it’s alright with you, Liv,” Amanda begins. She looks between the mother and son. “The girls have been asking when you’d be coming over for another sleepover. And Nicky lights up like a Christmas tree whenever his hero is in the room. They’d be thrilled to wake up and see you.”

Noah looks questioningly at Olivia.

“It would make me feel better knowing you’re not home alone,” she admits. “Even though I know you’re old enough to be.”

“You always win,” Noah mutters. He leans forward and presses a kiss to his mother’s cheek. “But you don’t play fair.”

“That’s why I always win,” Olivia says with a cheeky grin. She looks expectantly at the adults in the cubicle. “Anyone? The Golden Girls?”

“You’re dating yourself, Liv,” Fin snorts.

Olivia looks at Elliot, who has remained silent during the entire exchange. He shrugs.

“Man’s not wrong,” Elliot says. “Ever since Mama learned streaming, I have to leave the room during her binging sessions.”

Olivia hears the attempted humor in the words, but the humorous inflection is missing.

So is the playful sparkle in Elliot’s eye.

“See you in the morning?” Noah checks.

Olivia’s eyes flicker from Elliot to her son. She nods.

“Count on it.”

She kisses his knuckles once before waving him off with a smile. She mouths, Thank you to Amanda, who raises two fingers in acknowledgment.

“Guess I should hit the road, too,” Fin exhales. “The one-six won’t oversee itself. Call me if you need anything. Got it?”

Appreciatively, Olivia says, “Thanks, Fin.”

Olivia catches the way that her good friend gives Elliot a long, somewhat revealing but equally indecipherable look. Elliot’s face is stoic as he returns the gaze, which concerns Olivia.

Then, only two remain.

***

“Do you need to get back to OCCB?” Olivia asks. “Or debrief with Bell?”

Elliot shakes his head wordlessly before crossing his arms. He stares at the floor.

“No,” he says, redundantly.

The Sarge is too busy cleaning up my mess.

“Do you …?” Olivia hesitates. “Need to go?”

Elliot looks up and furrows his brow.

“Do you want me to go?”

Olivia opens her mouth and then closes it.

“I want to know what’s going on in your head,” she says, candidly. “But, at this point in the plot, I know better than to ask what isn’t my business.”

Elliot’s eyes flash in warning.

“Don’t do that,” he says, sharply. “I’m not that same guy.”

Maybe that is just a convenient cover story that Elliot tells himself. He has gone undercover so often the past few years that he’s turned him into a rather skilled con-man. If there is one thing that he’s learned, it’s that the greatest lies a con-man tells are the ones that he tells himself.

The ones that get the job done. The ones that keep him living a life or embracing a reality other than his actual one.

Elliot’s longest con to-date is that he could keep his feelings for Olivia tucked away. Out of sight, out of mind. Or, at least out of reach for as long as it was best for them.

His house of cards came crashing down tonight. Not for the first time, but certainly the most frightening of the times. Because now Elliot knows what it means to let himself get closer to Olivia. To hold her and to feel her moving all around him.

Consuming him.

The long con, Elliot thinks. The belief that I can hold onto any amount of control.

“I know.” Elliot blinks and looks at Olivia. “You’re not even the same guy you were when you came to my apartment the night you saw the scrapbook.”

Elliot could really do without that particular memory.

“Memories are a powerful thing,” Olivia continues. “Ones that are comforting and ones we’d rather forget. Or keep to ourselves if they’re too complicated to explain.”

“You did fine earlier,” Elliot mutters. “Considering all I’ve done since finding out about Tucker is make it all about me.”

Then, because his mind is whirling, he switches gears.

“What’s the deal with Barba?” Olivia stares at him. “You’re friends again?”

“That’s also complicated,” Olivia says. “I called him recently when I … I wasn’t in a good place.”

“Because you missed him and he could help?” Elliot asks. “Or you’ve forgiven him?”

“We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Clearly, we do,” Elliot says. Then, “I don’t like the guy.”

“He’s not cross-stitching your name onto a pillow.” Her tone is short. “I’m trying this new thing where I reconsider my scorched-earth approach to friendships. To date, only one person has caught a break despite hurting me more than anyone.”

Elliot’s mouth is dry. He tries searching for a response, but Olivia continues speaking.

“He happens to also mean more to me than anyone else.”

Olivia gives a helpless sort of shrug, which is … wrong. Completely wrong. Olivia Benson is not helpless, even when she is at her most vulnerable. She is so, so strong. Unimaginably resilient.

It could bring — and it has brought — Elliot Stabler to his knees.

“Maybe that guy doesn’t know what to do with that,” Elliot croaks. “Maybe he keeps getting it wrong, because it … overwhelms him. Especially knowing he’s done nothing to deserve it.”

“He keeps saying that,” Olivia says, wearily. “But I’d hope after all this time he’d realize it’s up to me to decide what I give of myself to others. In all areas of my life.”

“But,” she adds when he is silent, “we never did get to finish our talk in the kitchen.”

“We didn’t?” Elliot says, uncertainly. She shakes her head. “Something else about Tucker?”

Olivia shakes her head again. She extends a hand, which Elliot stares at for a moment.

He slowly lowers his arms and walks toward her. His hand slides into hers easily but doesn’t cover it. Their respective sizes complement each other just right.

“I told you how Amanda essentially challenged me to consider whether or not it was worth telling you about Tucker. After all the fights and the anger and the feelings of hurt.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Elliot says into her hair. She responds with a slight nod. “I know you didn’t have to. I know I didn’t give you any reason to trust that you should.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Olivia says. She leans back so that they can look at each other. He looks confused. “Amanda’s been working overtime the past few weeks.”

“How do I explain that to someone who knew him as the guy that tried to take the job away from us?” She pauses for effect. “Why should I have to?”

“It’s not really about what you should have to do,” Amanda acknowledges. “It’s whether or not Stabler’s worth it.”

Olivia sees the follow-up question that is screaming from behind Elliot’s eyes. She is prepared to answer it. What would be the point in leaving him hanging?

If it weren’t for the fact that her phone chose that exact second to ring.

“In case it got lost in translation,” Olivia begins. She squeezes his hand. “You are worth it. More than worth it, most of the time.”

Elliot cannot believe the nonplussed, lopsided smile that Olivia gives him. If he hadn’t known her for as long — and, admittedly, as well — as he has, Elliot would think that she was unaffected. It is clear that she can control it better than him.

There isn’t enough Saccharomyces boulardii in production to soothe his insides.

“Talk to me, El,” Olivia urges.

Elliot feels himself growing more flustered. His neck is hot. Next up is his face. Elliot inwardly groans and removes his hand from Olivia’s before she can notice how sweaty it has become.

This should be the easy part, he chastises himself. You’ve already slept together.

But he knows this right here is talking. They may talk in circles more these days, but it does not change the fact that so much has gone unsaid over nearly thirty years of knowing each other.

“I’m …” Elliot feels as though he might be sick. “You scared the shit out of me tonight.”

Olivia’s eyes soften.

“I know,” she says, gently. “When did you realize where you were?”

Elliot tenses.

“What are you talking about?”

Olivia sighs. She scratches the corner of her eye.

“I believe you were scared,” Olivia says instead. “But I also know what I saw, Elliot. I know what a flashback looks like, and I’ve seen people get triggered in real time. I’ve been there, myself.”

Olivia does not reach out for his hand, which relieves Elliot. He could not bear the thought of anyone, even Olivia, touching him right now. Not when he feels like a live wire.

“I saw that terror in your eyes,” Olivia continues. “It wasn’t like the other times I’ve gotten hurt.”

“We’re not the same now as we were then.”

“No, that’s true,” Olivia agrees. “But you know what a serious wound is.”

“Every wound is serious when it’s the person you love,” Elliot snaps.

Olivia’s eyes widen incrementally as Elliot closes his own in regret.

He had wanted to get it right the next time he said it. Elliot had wanted to whisper it to her. Not yell it at her like it’s an accusation or a burden. Not say it, yet again, when he is in a free fall.

“Now you know how I feel.”

Elliot’s eyes open in confusion. Olivia scoffs at his expression.

“You get hurt a hell of a lot more than I do, partner,” Olivia drawls. Her smile suddenly becomes softer than Elliot has even seen it. “Do you think I’d be half as pissed when you do if I didn’t feel the exact same way?”

“I … You …” Elliot stammers. He clears his throat. “What are you saying?”

Olivia’s laughter is loud and sharp.

“I’m saying, ‘I love you, too.’ Isn’t that obvious by now?”

Elliot has only found a few ways to manage his adrenaline over the years. Throwing himself into a case is one way. Working out at the gym is another more recent way for him. Family helps him sometimes, but it’s circumstantial and only when he knows that he won’t burden them.

Now, as his heart thunders in his ears, Elliot wonders if he just discovered another option.

Only one way to find out, he thinks.

Leaning over the edge of the bed, Elliot tilts his head so that he presses his lips to Olivia’s.

Olivia responds immediately with a hand landing behind his neck to draw him closer. She soon deepens the kiss and licks into his mouth. It is nothing like their previous kisses, even the ones from earlier when they took it slower.

It is more gentle. More deliberate and full of yearning.

More loving, Elliot realizes.

They separate, but Elliot doesn’t go far. He places his forehead against hers and keeps his eyes closed as he catches his breath. When he opens them, Elliot sees his favorite pair of chocolate brown eyes studying him for any sign of regret.

“Do you wish that was our first kiss?” Elliot asks.

Olivia raises her eyebrows but considers his question.

“Not entirely,” Olivia replies. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try?”

It’s a challenge. They challenge each other. It’s what brings them together and, plenty of times, has pulled them apart. But it is so them, and Elliot sees that Olivia recognizes it.

Simply, she replies:

“I like our story.”

Elliot’s heart swells. He pulls her in for a much more passionate kiss. One that leaves both of them winded and with their chests rising and falling in unison. Completely in sync.

It’s the first time that Elliot has ever felt grateful for a slow-moving hospital.

“I do, too,” Elliot says.

The glimmer in Olivia’s eyes makes him wonder if those might just be the best three words in the English language. Someday, in the future, Elliot sure as hell would not mind finding out in another setting.

I do, too.