So Help Me God

Olivia stands stoically, her back straight with her right palm facing the crowd as she hears herself repeat the words being read to her.

"..and to faithfully discharge my duties as a sergeant in the New York City police department, to the best of my abilities so help me God."

Her heart flutters beneath her dress blues but she feels light as a feather for once.

She feels accomplished.

Before she knows it, she's standing in a line and then she hears the new name, "Sergeant Olivia Benson," being called and her heartbeat picks up again.

She sees her colleagues, Fin, Nick and Amanda, in the crowd and she's happy they're here for this. She'd known somehow that Brian wouldn't be and Cragen is on his cruise with Eileen.

She walks quickly across the stage toward the commissioner to receive the certificate finalizing her promotion.

She smiles and looks into the crowd as someone snaps her picture and just like that, it's true. She's a leader, she always has been, but having the paper with her name imprinted on it gives her that little extra push.

As soon as the flash disappears from her eyes, she finds Nick in the crowd again. But he's by himself now and he's clapping for her and she's grateful for his partnership. They've had their rough days just like any other partnership but it works and she's relieved for that.

As she makes her way across the stage toward the other set of stairs to go down, she wonders if Fin and Amanda caught a case. She's just about to walk down them to the other honorees standing off to the side when she hears something, or someone rather, pushing open the set of doors right behind the row Nick is sitting in.

Not looking up, she continues to walk and something inside of her tells her to be extra careful not to trip down the short set of stairs leading off the stage at the same time.

Once on even ground, she raises her eyes, and makes her way toward the other recipients who'd gone before her. As she does, she sees another navy blue uniform coming through the set of doors. It's not like hers yet it's still striking against the beige walls of the auditorium.

But it's who comes in behind the person in uniform that nearly causes her to bump into the man in front of her. She stops mid-stride but she quickly catches herself as she hears the next recipient exiting the stage and coming up behind her.

She steps away from the line and when she's out of the way of anyone who might want to get by her, she stands as still as she had on the stage moments before, with her back just as straight.

The only difference is how wide she knows her eyes are as she confirms for herself what she had known from the first glimpse. She takes inventory of him as he stands just inside of the doors.

Three years.

That's all that comes to her mind as she observes him. He's leaning against the back wall listening to the names being read off and she's staring at him.

The other officers are all watching the stage as attentively as he is and she's thankful for that because she has no idea what letter of the alphabet they're on now and doesn't want anyone to know how little focus she's been paying the ceremony.

She watches him fold his arms across his chest and he's wearing a heavy, navy blue trench-coat over the suit jacket he wore many times during his days with the NYPD.

She wonders if he decided to get dressed up and come here by chance. She thinks he must have because how could he have known she'd be in today's ceremony unless... her thoughts trail off as she starts shaking underneath her own jacket. Suddenly it's very warm and she's looking away from him then, tugging at the lapels of the garment trying to get some air.

After a moment, she glances back at him, but now his eyes are wandering and she's suddenly nervous about him seeing her in her dress blues, or at all for that matter. She presses her back more firmly to the wall behind where she is standing on the opposite side of where she'd started, as she watches him scan the room.

He'd been listening to the names being read off, and she realizes he'd heard her name called after all, probably before he'd entered the room. The auditorium echoes and she squeezes her eyes closed. Damn.

She opens them back up, and now his eyes are on the end of the line and there's only five people behind where she'd been standing and there's only a handful left on stage still so the ceremony is near it's end.

Her throat becomes dry when he looks down for a moment and she somehow knows where his vision will be focused on when he raises his eyes again.

She clenches her hands into tight fists when she's proven right.

His eyes immediately snap to hers across the large room, the echo from the man reading names off with the following applause the only sound as their gazes lock.

She looks away quickly, her eyes focusing on the stage, as another recipient crosses it to join the new line that she's in, but she can feel him still watching her by the doors and it burns. His gaze feels intense and she can sense him willing her to look in his direction.

She tries not to.

She really does, but her will falters and she's happy her hair is pulled up into her hat because she can feel a small bead of sweat roll down her neck when she turns her blurry vision toward him.

His eyes are serious. His hands have fallen from his chest where they'd been crossed but his back is still against the wall behind him just inside of the entrance, his stance almost a mirror image of her own.

His nostrils flare and from what she can see from across the room, he's surprised by her appearance. She can't quite tell what but there's something in his posture that seems to be subtly changing the more he looks at her.

She swallows and closes her eyes, willing him to understand that she's changed. She's different. The woman behind the the uniform isn't just getting a promotion, she's getting five hundred reality checks in addition to all the ones she's gotten the time since he left her and they're payable upfront.

She keeps her eyes closed for a few seconds, feeling the guy who went before her shifting from one foot to the other in his own dress blues as he stands in line. When she opens them, Elliot is still looking at her, but his eyes are sadder than a moment before.

His mouth starts to move and then he's mouthing something to her. She wonders if she's dreaming right now. She wonders if this is real at all because surely he didn't show up today for her, let alone show up at all. He's been AWOL for years and to show up now? It doesn't make sense. She looks down.

After a breath, she raises her eyes upward and she catches his mouth still moving, the action just barely discernible from where she stands. It's as if he's talking without moving his lips but the movement is still there. It's real. It's all too real when she reads his lips just as he adjusts his own weight from one foot to the other.

I'm sorry.

And then she hears the crowd applauding and she wants to tell them to all shut the hell up because he's saying he's sorry to her and she wants to hear more.

She wants him to voice it loud and clear so she can say, Screw you. But she can't, her anger has no place on this this day. She looks up at the stage and the department staff are saluting the crowd and she does the same.

Her line starts to move forward and she slips into it again, and then they're free to go on to their families and when she looks back toward the doors, he's gone.

A fact that reminds her that her family's as foreign as the medallion that she no longer wears around her neck.

She walks over to Nick and he informs her that they caught a case but Fin and Amanda took it. So they leave together and head back to the precinct.

She doesn't see Elliot on the way out.

. . .

Olivia's sitting at her desk in Cragen's old office, looking over forms and signing them as she drinks her coffee. As soon as she and Nick had returned to the precinct, Fin and Amanda had informed them of the progress in the new case they'd caught.

"Check the pawn shops for the jewelry," Olivia immediately retorts, reveling in the ability to hand out orders. She flips through some notes when Nick comes into their conversation.

"Manny's mother didn't call him in missing?" he inquires.

"He's living with his grandmother, she's not picking up the phone," Fin adds.

This gives Olivia the cue, and she's able to smile about it as she does so. "Alright, Amaro," she starts, "You're good with the abuelitas, pay a visit. Fin. Rollins. Check Avery's social media, and talk to her friends at school, they most likely will know the real story," she retorts in response of the Romeo and Juliet case they have about two teens in love, Manny and Avery, who are from opposite sides of the tracks.

"We're on it... boss," Nick grins sheepishly as he goes to walk out of the bullpen.

Fin salutes her with a cocky grin on his face before he and Amanda follow behind Amaro. She smiles and slowly the memory of his face starts to fade. Maybe, it'll be okay. Just maybe.

She takes a gratifying breath, fills her coffee mug and carries it to her new office, the incoming silence and paperwork a reprieve from the past few hectic weeks being in charge.

A knock at the door startles her out of her reverie. She drops the pen she's holding and rubs her weary eyes with the heels of her hands before standing up to answer the door to the office she still isn't quite used to.

It's only been a few weeks but she assumes as soon as she does allow herself to get used to being in charge, she'll be pulled back down in the ranks again by a new captain.

She's not sure how she feels about that. She's not sure if the unit would be better off with a completely new captain that may not have the guts and fire and compassion Don did or if she'd be better suited for the job after all.

She doesn't let herself forget the stress levels she's been reaching already but she assumes if given the chance, she'd be able to do this, in time. Time.

She shakes her head and walks over to the door, speaking as she pulls open the door.

"I'm coming. What can I do for you?" she asks as the person on the other side stands ramrod straight poised to knock again.

The air escapes her, dissipates all around her when she comes face to face with the person she thought least likely to show up here.

His voice cuts through her like a jagged knife but, slowly and evenly, yet seeps into her like warmth on an icy day.

"Yes, I was told the Captain was in the office but all I'm seeing is a Sergeant," he quips with a grin. "What gives?"

She smirks involuntarily, sensing the pride in his words as it flares up like burst of light on the Fourth of July. He's cocky. But she knows he's complimenting her.

His voice jars her mind back into focus.

"Ahem, can we talk Sergeant or should I say Captain?"

She takes a deep breath and her eyes nervously skitter to the side and then as she glances at the carpeting in the office, the beige color reminding her of the walls inside the auditorium where she last saw him.

She's still in her uniform, but she long ago shed the jacket and cap. Her hair is still pinned up but she still feels the tiny loose tendrils tickling her neck when it warms from his words.

Everything is starting to feel real now. Even more so than earlier in the day while the police commissioner had been reading names.

His voice cuts through her thoughts and she realizes she's been standing in front of him with her hands clasped in front of her heart while she's been staring at the carpet near his feet.

From the corner of her eye, she can see how solid his stance is, yet his breaths and tilt of his hips and shoulders show how confused at her reluctance to speak to him he is.

"Liv?"

"Cut the crap, Elliot," she blurts out without meaning to. But it's inevitable the torrent of words coming on. "I've got work to do. What can I help you with?" she asks.

He laughs softly, timidly. He runs a nervous hand down the back of his short hair before glancing into her eyes and then down to his feet much as she has done moments before.

"First you can help by telling me who the hell all these people are running around here."

"They're NYPD. Who else would they be?"

"I mean, everything is different. They've redecorated the place," he half chuckles, his neck bobbing up and down as he swallows nervously.

Sighing, she pushes her loose bangs out of her eyes and bites her bottom lip, before looking to his face again, catching his eyes with her own leery ones.

"If you really want to come in, do so and then close the door," she orders gently, giving him an out without actually saying it, letting her hands fall to her sides as she walks back over to the desk.

Taking the file she had been working, she flips it closed for now and gives him her full attention as he decides to come in and do as she says. As soon as she hears the door click in place as it closes, she turns around and puts her hands on her hips.

"Lock it," she orders on an exhale as if she's already mentally exhausted from the impending conversation. But in reality, she wants to make sure no one walks in on this. She's going to have him groveling before this is over because how dare he show up after all this time.

"Okay," he retorts as he turns around and places his hands on his own hips, his mouth twisting hesitantly as he bites his bottom lip and she wants to be mad when he does that but she can't. So she puts on an act.

"Okay?"

"I uh, you're Sergeant now," he quips with a small laugh which is more of an exhale. "I'm just... I came back here to make up for earlier."

"Earlier?" she questions, her eyes narrowed and her lips twisting to the side in annoyance. "Oh you mean at the ceremony? Gotcha."

"Yea, I'm sorry I bolted. I got a call and I had-"

Sighing, she effectively cuts him off because he stops when she does. "Elliot, really... I'm on a time frame. Work with me here," she pushes out a moment later, rubbing her mouth and eyes with the palm of her hand.

She swipes away the moisture in the latter angrily as she starts to feel unwanted tears coming on. "What do you want? You come here to congratulate me? Well do it. Because I've got shit to do and very little time. As you can see we're a little short staffed at the moment."

"I'm sorry," he mutters and his eyes lower to the ground as he slides his hands into his pockets. And she remembers something then, remembers that even when he's beat down emotionally, he's still intense and she can see that intensity radiating off of him as he grinds his jaw with every passing moment, as if something is weighing heavily on his mind every waking moment. "I was there today because I wanted to see you. If that's not okay with you, I'm sorry."

"Okay," she utters and she acts as if she's ready for him to go but in reality she wants him there. But she can't grasp onto that fully yet. He's been gone. Not a phone call, or text message and she hates that she understands why but she won't give that to him yet until he explains.

"I'm happy for you. You deserve it," he continues. "God knows, you put up with enough shit that you deserve even more than this. You deserve that cruise that I heard Cragen went on. You deserve to sit back and enjoy life, Liv," he whispers, his Brooklyn accent seeping into his tone. "But this is your next step to getting there and I'm proud. I don't know how you feel about me right now but that's one thing I can't stop thinkin-"

"Thank you," she blurts out, effectively stopping him from saying anymore. Well then, she thinks. Damn. Damn him. "Is that it?" and she really wants him to say no but the icy tone in her voice shakes him to he core, she can tell. His back straightens uncomfortably every time she speaks curtly but she can't help it.

"Yeah," he breathes out. "Yeah, I just wanted to congratulate you. Don't work too hard," he nods quickly, adding on before he makes to leave and, "I'm sorry I intruded," and his tone slices through her chest and she hates the rigid cold that starts to infiltrate her, replacing the subtle warmth she'd felt briefly.

He nods his head a few times, swiveling on his feet with his hands still in his pockets as he turns toward the door. He's about to pull on it to unlock the handle when she stops him, her heart acting too fast for her mind and rational side to interfere.

"Why?" she rasps out and she's not exactly what part of this she's asking for.

He stops in his tracks but he doesn't turn around. Instead, he leans his forehead against the wooden surface of the door. "Why?"

"Yes, why are you here now? Why do you care? Why did you decide to dress in your work clothes and suddenly decide to show up on this day over all others? Why not before now? Why do you care?" she grates out again frustratedly. "Why do you make me think you care and then goddamn leave?" she spits out next, her eyes blurry. "Tell me goddamnit."

He whips around and suddenly her still, rigid, shaking form is being hauled into him as he pulls her by the arm. She doesn't fall into his embrace though.

She immediately raises her arms and pushes back. She pushes him so hard she thinks he'll go sailing though the glass middle of the door. He stops himself from sliding that far and his face is angry but he's body is lax and defeated. "Olivia, don't do this. You know me better than that."

"Go to hell, Elliot," she whispers softly, her voice trembling. She licks her lips and her throat is already starting to feel sore from the emotion building up. "I waited for you," she whispers. "I called you, I offered you things no one else was, I begged you to let me in."

"You gotta know, I couldn't accept it then. I needed to let you go in order to help everyone. And I did. I needed you to take care of you and not worry about my problems because you don't deserve them ontop of everything else."

Her breath hitches, the sobs welling up in her throat now, her chance to hold them back dwindling by the second. "I'd believe you," she utters hoarsely. "But that wouldn't make it hurt any less," she whimpers, and the fact she's breaking in front of him pisses her off. She'd sworn to herself over the last few years this wouldn't happen if she were ever to see him again.

"Olivia, I'm here to show you something."

His deep voice pulsates through her and she's still angry and confused and this feels weird. She honestly has no idea if she really wants to be as angry as she is acting or not.

She swallows back the threatening moisture again and steps forward, and without second thought grabs his biceps. "I don't want to hear anything else or your excuses. I'm tired of them. I'm tired of being your second choice or third or fourth... whatever the hell I was. I'm sure as hell not in the top ten anymore," she grates out as his torso sways back and forth with each of her words.

He takes it. He would never retaliate in their current situation, not to mention she's so pissed that a fight is what she's spoiling for and he doesn't want to go there. "Olivia, " he pants out, "stop."

"Stop what?" she asks as she gets further in his face. She knows she's not being violent in any real way, she's being careful to ensure her pushes aren't painful but she wants to hurt him in some small way for the way that he hurt her. "Too much?" she asks snidely. "I'm sorry, I guess maybe I should just kick you out and then change my number and disappear off the face of the earth instead. That's pretty painful huh?" she snarks, pressing a finger into his upper shoulder with each word. "Yea, that one would hurt, wouldn't it?"

His face is passive, turned to the side but his nostrils flare with each breath, his lips purse and his cheeks slightly redden from her words. She knows already this isn't going to end well.

"Olivia," he whispers, "I'm telling you now, stop and listen to me. I don't care how much you push and shove me, I'll never touch you. You know goddamned well what you're doing is foolish."

She takes a step back immediately feeling guilty all of a sudden knowing she's letting the angry part of her override the understanding of his presence and disappearance.

She takes a deep breath and all of a sudden it's too warm again and she's acutely aware of her surroundings. The office seems too small for the both of them.

She squeezes her eyes closed and raises her palm to her forehead, her clammy skin a distraction from the man standing before her with a sorrowful look on his face and eyes portraying so much hurt at her actions she wants to be swallowed through the floor.

"I'm sorry, Elliot."

It's a simple utterance but it's stunning to her how effortlessly she gives apologies out now. It's as confusing as her life is in general.

"I know," he offers softly and she hates him for staying yet she loves him for letting her push for more.

"Thank you for coming today," she placates him in a gentle, trembling voice. "To the ceremony."

It's a heady feeling when she feels his focus glide up and down her body, taking in her appearance, and then meeting her eyes once more.

She stares him in the eyes for a few moments before taking a few short steps toward him and slinging her arms tightly around his neck, letting her torso collide with his as she silently asks, begs, pleads for him to just hold her.

She buries her face against the warmth of his shoulder, her cheek pressed so tightly against the fabric of his suit jacket she almost feels numb. Hesitantly, he places his large, familiarly rough hands on her back and pulls her against him even more.

His fingers dig into her back a bit but she she revels in it, memorizes the feeling of his hands that will her body that much nearer to his. "God, Olivia," he pants into her hair as he slides his arms fully around her back and hugs her close to his body.

She closes her eyes tightly, her mouth pursed so thinly she can't breathe through it. But it's okay, she breathes him in through her nose and the scent is intoxicating.

His smell is divine and familiar and rejuvenating, a balm in the scent of ivory soap. She clings to him even tighter, her fingers grasping for the material of his jacket so she can hold on and she feels him strengthen his own hold, his cheek pressed against her temple so tightly it hurts. But she doesn't care.

They start swaying back and forth, small movements in a monumental moment in time, the third such instance in their entire existence together but so much more fulfilling than the millions of times this played out in her dreams.

She whispers over and over almost to herself, the tears running in rivulets down her cheeks, "I missed you. I missed you. I'm pathetic and mad, sooo goddamned mad..but I missed you. Damn you, I missed you," she whispers so harshly, her throat starts to burn.

He squeezes her even tighter to his body if that is possible, while her arms continue clenching his jacket, her nails digging into the fabric as he sways them back in forth even more, now in something of a slow dance.

His breaths start hitting her cheek and she instinctively knows he has his eyes closed as she imagines he revels in his own ability to feel her in his arms, his movements and reaction to her enough to tell her her imagination is probably akin to reality.

One of his hands starts rubbing up and down her back and they're starting to sway faster and farther away from the desk. Her hold becomes even tighter when she feels him leading her toward the wall. Her feet tangle with his briefly and his face buries into her neck and she knows what's coming.

The solidness hits her back with force and she wonders if they heard the noise of the impact outside. But she doesn't care, because all of her ability to function with coherent thought dissipates as soon as his lips touch her skin.

His breaths hit her skin in uneven patterns as he grasps the hem of her shirt in his hands while pulling her toward him by her hips. "Olivia," he gasps as she lets her hands slide down his back, and she knows what's happening and it immediately sets her on alert but her hands slide around his hips, dangerously close to the bulge forming in his pants and goddamnit this can't be happening.

She immediately slides her hand up his chest, trying not to hurt his feelings but pushing him away at the same time.

"Elliot," she breathes out shocked, watching his lips part as he breathes heavily from working on her neck. "Elliot, what is this?"

He shakes his head, and plants his hands on the wall above her shoulders. He lowers his head and it dangles between his shoulders as he shakes it from side to side. "I can't explain it," he voices sadly. "I uh..." he whispers as his watery blue eyes lift to hers, his older features a crisp and beautiful sight in the bright lighting of the room.

Her gaze flits back and forth between his eyes, and she takes in the slightly gray hairs lining his brows and then she watches his eyes lower to her mouth and that's the end of what they used to be.

Her eyes jerk up to his when he steps in closer and presses his lips onto hers hard... without hesitation. She inhales at the same time and her hands latch onto his shoulders as his mouth molds to hers, the combination of pressure and softness almost too much to bear.

She falls back and succumbs to it. She lets him control the moment and before she knows it, he's pressed into her again, her back flat against the wall and his body heat seeping into hers as he steals her breath with each brush of his lips against hers.

She wants to open her mouth to him completely, but she doesn't know what the hell is happening. She does knows one thing for sure through.

His body is pressed against hers in all the right places and that will forever be etched in her mind as the single most intensely satisfying feeling in her world.

His hands graze up her arms, over her shoulders and then onto her neck on both sides and he holds her head in place as he kisses the living hell out of her.

He's sucking on her lips, then planting tiny kisses on the same spots and she has no other choice but to give in even further. Her arms hold onto his biceps loosely as he twists and turns his head with each kiss of her lips with his own.

Suddenly she needs more, much, much more of him. She leans up and pecks him with her own lips and then she feels victorious for getting even just one in. It feels empowering when he opens his mouth for her on her second attempt.

His tongue is glorious against her own. It's warm and pliant and he lets her kiss him now, his lips willing and wet and arousing as she slips her tongue past them finally, flicking it across his a few times before sucking on his lower lip.

"Christ," he mumbles between her kisses and she feels a chuckle bubble up inside of her but it only fuels her more. His hands start wandering down toward her pants and she's so turned on she doesn't register the fact that the top button is already open and his warm hand is slipping into her panties.

His rough and warm fingers brush against the underside of her stomach and the top of her mound and she grips his biceps hard, and her head falls back against the wall with a softer thud this time, leaving her neck exposed and she shouldn't be surprised that he takes advantage of this.

His lips attach to her neck and just as his middle finger teases her clit through her panties. She hisses and unconsciously, her arms slips under his pits pulling him closer as if using him as an anchor will stop the intensity of this moment.

They don't speak, they just breathe and feel and he touches her so intimately, and her body is so unbelievably responsive to his ministrations it hurts.

His finger continues to move over the fabric of her panties in an attempt to slide them to the side and the feeling that that elicits from her comes from a place of complete arousal she knows all too well and it's enough to finally jar her.

Immediately, she moves her arms out from under his and grasps his forearms, stilling his actions. He's breathing hard and both of his hands are trapped between their crotches, one inside her pants and the other against her hip. His lips are beyond red and bruised and she imagines hers are similar in appearance.

It all comes flooding back to her then. They're in Cragen's old office fooling around and Jesus Christ, she doesn't want to think of what her old captain would say about that and her coworkers could be outside and suddenly she remembers getting dressed in these clothes in her apartment this morning.

The one she shares with Cassidy.

She's unsure of their status at the moment. He's been gone a lot lately and she suspects he's avoiding her because of everything going on but that doesn't negate the fact she's living with him.

That thought causes her heart to drop and her voice comes in a wisp of reluctant air.

"Elliot, we can't," she breathes heavily.

He stiffens and takes a half step back, his hand tugging against her pants as he slides it out of her panties. She grabs his hand before he gets too far away and there's a series of emotions that cross his features as she does. First and foremost is sadness, worry, and then confusion.

"I'm sorry, Elliot. I know..." she offers sympathetically, her head dropping back against the wall. "I know... I want it too."

"Then why..." he trails off.

"Well for one thing, we're in an office and there are people out there milling about, and that is fifty shades of wrong because my coworkers could be coming back any second so letting this go any further here is probably not in our best interests." She stops a few seconds and swallows, not wanting to admit this final piece of information, knowing it's important but not any less damaging to the moment than a if a grenade would be if tossed between them. "And I'm living with Cassidy," she breathes out, looking off to the side again as she does so, not wanting to see the devastation, disappointment, and anger she knows will appear in his eyes.

She doesn't want to see his disbelief either, because that same disbelief is starting to seep into her own resolve about the whole living situation, and she doesn't want to see him hurt the way she realizes she has been.

She doesn't want to see his fire burn out because it felt so goddamn good to have it directed at her because it was intense and full of desire for her.

"I'm sorry," he pushes out past his lips, his eyes focused on the wall beside her. "God, I'm so sorry," and he finally, fully pulls away from her taking his hand from her grasp and, walking away with his hands hanging limply at his sides in defeat. "God, Liv," he puffs out. "I had no idea. Oh, God," he shakes his head.

She watches him and she feels the disappointment radiating off of him and she doesn't know what to do. One second they were fighting, the next they were so entangled in each other she can't remember how she could have ever expected anything less than intensity and sincerity from him as proven by the way he kissed her just now.

"Elliot, stop. I need you to listen."

"Why did you let me kiss you, if you're living with Cassidy?"

"Elliot." she says exasperatedly, her palms raised in an attempt to get him to stop.

"No," he grates out. "No, dammit. Is it serious? Did I just ruin something you had because fuck Liv, that's the last thing I wanted to do. I mean I was an arrogant bastard when it came to who came on to you in the past but I'd never take away your happiness if it's what you wanted in the long run, I'd give mine up for yours...," he rambles on, swiping a hand down the back of his thinning hair.

"Elliot," she says for the third straight time, watching him lose his shit over exactly what she thought he would. Her heart aches. She sees his heartbreak on his sleeve and God, she wants to dissolve, disappear not wanting to comprehend what he's telling her. So she deflects with her own admissions, hoping like hell the enormity of the ISSUE can be contained.

"I'm not sorry," she mutters with intent.

It's all she can think of. She says it wistfully and in a way she hopes sounds full of promise.

He turns around and his eyes are red and he's devastated and that fact alone scares her. Is he devastated she's with someone? Or that he's potentially ruined it? Either way, it scares her. "What?" he asks.

"He missed today. Because he's undercover again. And guess what?" she asks, with a snide smile on her face as she runs her fingers through her lose bangs. He narrows his brows as he awaits her words. "He's with IAB now. And, I'm not stupid, Elliot. That shouldn't happen with him if he's working for Tucker. He's lying to me. And I don't like it. I don't like living with lies. I don't like the idea of living with someone who I'm not in love with. I don't like living with someone I knew briefly fifteen years ago but clung to now because he was safe but not exactly familiar.

I don't like waiting for him to become what I want when he's never going to be what I need. I don't like pretending my PTSD is non-existent because I took out a chunk of my life's savings to move into a part of town that isn't my style or really in my budget. I don't like telling my demons to a therapist who seems to see right through my bullshit. Tell me I'm not selfish for not liking all of this. Tell me there's a reason I need to sort my shit out, Elliot. Because becoming Sergeant, running a squad, busting perps, living a lie, waiting for him to show up is not going to solve my other problems!"

"Olivia," he speaks sternly, worriedly. "Olivia what's happening?"

"I need you," she cries out in a grainy whisper, her hand flinging toward her mouth. "I need you to kiss me, I need you to touch me," she starts carrying on again. "It's not about what I want, wanting things isn't always the answer to the worlds fucking problems, and sure as hell not to mine! I need you breathing next to me. I need you to tell me that I'm foolish to believe I'm living truths when my life is a lie. And the worst part of this, is there's no one else to blame for all this and for possibly losing you now but me!"

"No," he interjects. "You have every right to want this, or what you need. You settled for what you thought you deserved and you deserve so much more. It's my fault. I'm the one. Be mad at me. I'll take it. I'll take it for you. You take on what you can handle, Olivia. There's no other way."

"But I want something different. I want to start getting more than what I get everyday. What I'm starting to expect."

"Only you can know what that is. I know I've let you down, I'm not playing the saint here, Liv. I'm on your side, I always will be."

A few moments of silence dangle between them and all she wants is for him to understand that him being on her side is the first step to her getting what she needs in life.

Her voice comes out on it's own accord and it's so dry she can't tell if it's making noise or not until she hears the echo of her words in the quiet room.

"I need you you to hug me again," she exhales, her voice trembling."I need this. I'm not the same person, Elliot. And I'm tired. I'm tired of waiting for it to happen for me, so I want it now."

In seconds, his stature changes dramatically and then he has her in his arms again, breathing her in, holding her tightly to his body. "I smile," she whispers, "I smile all the time because that's what I think I'm supposed to do..." she trails off. "But I'm dying on the inside," she barely speaks, her breaths ragged as his hold tightens so much that she can actually feel when the emotional trembling begins in his own body.

He's shaking.

Just like her.

They cling to each other for long moments, but eventually, Olivia reluctantly pulls away. She licks her lips and sniffs back the tears. She silently walks over to her desk and jots down some number and directions and then hands it to him as she walks back over to him.

"I'd like for you to come visit me on my off hours. You can call me before hand."

Elliot lifts his hand slowly, gingerly for the small card she has in her hand and takes it from her, reading the contents.

She watches his eyes as they roam over the paper but she knows that what he is seeing is just numbers to him and she can tell he's trying to figure out what to say.

"It's my new address. My new phone number." His neck bobs as he swallows but he doesn't lift his head. "Call before you show up tonight, okay?"

He nods and lifts his eyes to hers, "Okay," his replies, the rough, raspy accent accentuating his acceptance.

She nods too, swallowing, noting the visible change in both their bearings. She smiles a small smile and wipes her lips with her hand, feeling how bruised they are and how much feeling radiates through her body.

They spend the next few minutes gaining their composure, fixing their clothes and wiping any excess moisture from their mouths and eyes.

The next time she looks up, he's staring at her and he gives her a sly, small smile and then unlocks the door and walks out.

He's walking out of the precinct but he's walking into the unknown with her and that means so much more.

She walks back over to her desk, a small smile again on her lips. She knows Brian won't be home tonight

As she picks up the stack of cards in disarray on her desk, she stacks them neatly and places them back into the holder as she sucks in her bottom lip that is still sore from the impact of Elliot's presence against her skin.

After a moment, she sits down in her chair and stares at the cards, thinking to herself as she reads the title on the front. Sergeant Olivia Benson...

She silently pledges in that moment to do everything she can to give her unit what it needs to be successful and whole. She then makes the same promise to herself, promising to give herself what and who she needs in her life to be at her best.

After a moment longer of reflection, she recalls the final words of the oath she'd taken that morning, and though she's not religious, she says the phrase aloud once more as a way to cement her dedication to her new position and finally… to her own happiness.

"... so help me God."

.

finis

I've gone back and fixed the typos I didn't see last night/early this morning. I apologize, but I suppose that's what I get for posting half awake, lol. Also, I'm not sure about a sequel. I will sincerely think about it. I'm thinking of adding one more to Breathe Me as well on top of Cruz, so we shall see. Thanks for reading.