A/N: Happy New Year one and all! I hope you had a joyous, festive and safe NYE. I spent mine in the hospital but don't worry, it's what I get paid to do…lol. Now I say what better way to ring in the New Year than with a little E/O. This is the final chapter of this here little fic. Whether you've enjoyed the read or not, please leave me a little something to let me know why or why not as the case may be. Rated MA so heed the warning.

…three months later.

"You wouldn't be so quick to listen to her story if it were the other way around," Olivia points out, standing from her desk. "If it were a male track coach and his female runner!"

The two of them are starting to garner attention from their coworkers as they have it out in the middle of the bullpen.

"Of course I would," Elliot contends, getting up so forcefully his chair rolls across the room. "It's not exactly my first day Olivia," he adds. "Don't talk to me like I haven't done this job just as long as you have!"

"Then maybe it's just Leslie Gannon that's clouded your judgment," she continues. "Why don't you admit that she's not the same person you knew when you were kids!"

"She has an alibi!"

"And it's bullshit!"

"You know the statistics on female sexual predators," Elliot points out. "And this is supposed to have been going on for the last ten years?" He asks, rhetorically. "Where are the other victims?"

"Clearly you don't remember the stats on female predators," she asserts. "Because female on male rape is rarely even reported let alone prosecuted," she reminds him. "That's why she doesn't have a criminal history!"

Having been disturbed by their yelling, Cragen abruptly steps out of his office.

"Enough!" He barks. "Olivia, Elliot my office, now!"

They give each other the evil eye over their desks before reluctantly following the captain into his office. Once inside Elliot stands with his arms crossed over his chest while Olivia digs her fists into her pockets.

"What the hell is the matter with you two?" He asks.

"He won't—

"She doesn't—

"Save it," interrupts their boss. "Now Elliot, I let you stay on this case because you told me you hadn't seen or heard from Leslie Gannon in over thirty-five years," he reminds him. "But if you can't be objective-

"I can Cap," he asserts. "It's not a problem."

Cragen looks to Olivia for the slightest bit of dissonance. But just as she has hundreds of times before, she doesn't sell out her partner.

"I don't know what the two of you were arguing about this time and frankly I don't give a damn," he contends. "You either work out whatever this is by yourselves or I will."

"Yes captain," they say simultaneously.

"Because if you don't," he continues, pausing to let his words sink in. "Trust me when I say, you will not like the outcome," he threatens. "Now I want the both of you to take a break," he calmly adds. "Separately."

The detectives nod without saying a word. Cragen looks at them, ruminating that perhaps there's more to their argument than what is on the surface.

In his experience, there always is with these two.

"Is there anything either of you would like to share?" He asks. "Anything I should know?"

For the first time since being called into his office, Elliot and Olivia actually meet one another's eyes.

"No cap," he says.

"No sir," she agrees.

The captain looks at them with skepticism but there's nothing he can really do unless they botch a case or someone comes to him with an accusation of impropriety on their part.

"Fine," says their boss. "Then be back here in a half hour ready to either try and close the Duvall case or at least make some serious headway," he adds. "Am I clear?"

"Yes captain," they say together.

"Dismissed."

Olivia is the first out of Cragen's office. She unlocks her desk drawer, grabs her purse and makes a beeline for the elevator.

Elliot strides down the corridor and takes the steps to the roof.

"What do you think that was really about?" Munch asks.

"Don't know, don't wanna know," answers Fin. "And maybe you should try something new for a change and mind ya business…just this once."

"Now what would be the fun in that partner?" Munch asks.

Fin simply shakes his head and continues writing.

"I can't even remember the last time the two of them raised their voices at each other," continues the elder detective. "Let alone had an actual screaming match."

"Leave it alone man."

"In fact I'd say they've been more civil than they've ever been for several months now," comments Munch. "You don't think-

"No," interrupts Fin. "I don't think about anyone's personal business besides mine."

Munch narrows his eyes at his partner over his desk.

"You know something don't you?"

"Nope," Fin answers, not even bothering to look up or stop writing. "Like I said, I don't wanna know," he goes on. "What people do outside this job ain't got shit to do with me."

"That may very well be my friend," Munch goes on. "But mark my words, there is something going on with those two and it has nothing to do with the Duvall case," he contends.

"You've been sayin' that for years," his partner points out. "And ain't a damn thing happened yet."

"That we know of."

Fin looks up, shakes his head and goes back to work.

Having not been able to rope his partner into office gossip, Munch decides to actually be productive, picking up a file out of his inbox to start on.

Elliot and Olivia return within ten or so minutes of one another. They sit at their desks making phone calls to follow up on leads and confirm witness statements.

A short while later, something on the monitor catches Tuttuola's eye.

"Shit's hittin' the fan for ya girl Stabler," comments Fin as he calls up the latest news story on the monitor.

"Forty-six year old Leslie Gannon has been suspended from Manhattan Prep stemming from allegations of an inappropriate sexual relationship with a student," says the reporter.

"She's not my girl," Elliot contends as everyone focuses their attention on the sight of his childhood friend trying to dodge the cameras.

"The news comes just three days after the unnamed young man reported it to his parents," the redhead continues. "More on this in the 6 o'clock hour."

Every station in the area has reported on what they've learned about Olivia and Elliot's case before dinner. And by the end of the week, three more victims come forward.

Elliot takes their statements as they reluctantly tell him how the woman they'd come to know as "Coach Feel Good", seduced them into sexual relationships and in exchange gave them opportunities to be scouted by top colleges and universities.

"At first you think wow, I must be lucky that an older woman is tryin' to get in my pants," says Roger Feldman, a twenty-year old from Rutgers. "You don't even realize how f-cked up it is 'til later."

For as long as he's been in SVU, he didn't think it was possible that he could have biases when it comes to doing his job and what victims he believes.

"It was almost like a rite of passage," describes Adrian Jackson, a nineteen year-old that took the train in from Howard University. "If you were on the track team and you didn't get your first piece from Coach F- I mean, Coach Gannon," he corrects. "Then something was wrong with you."

With each note he makes and every word he transcribes for the record, Elliot thinks about how his son could've easily been one of these young men. He realizes after he'd gotten a certain age that he'd stopped worrying about Richard becoming a victim.

He'd only ever made sure to tell his daughters about how men operate, what they say to get women into bed or to let him know if something happens that they aren't entirely comfortable with.

How wrong he's been.

The nail in Leslie Gannon's coffin is the confirmation that the father of her four year-old son is a former student. Jackson Stanton was only fifteen at the time of conception and therefore there's no refuting the additional statutory rape charge.

Elliot has to see her. He needs answers.

The short statured blonde haired woman, shuffles into the Riker's visiting room, wearing prison orange, devoid of makeup and lacking the confidence she displayed for the cameras just four days ago. He doesn't know whether to be relieved or angry that he didn't get to slap handcuffs on her himself.

"You played me," he starts once they're seated. "You really had me goin' Les."

The tears immediately start flowing from the other side of the metal table. His former childhood friend doesn't bother wiping them away.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I couldn't…I wanted to keep the lies I had in my head going," she explains. "And I needed to hold on to my son."

"You mean the son you had with a guy who was a teenager the first time you took him to bed?" He asks. "The lies that you were actually helping these boys? Boys Les! Kids!"

She doesn't even jump when he punctuates his words by pounding his fists on the table. At the corrections officer stepping forward, Elliot holds his hands up to stop her.

"Won't happen again," he assures her. "Sorry."

The officer steps back but keeps her eyes on the conversation.

"I was a kid once too," Leslie begins.

"Oh please," says Elliot, obviously appalled. "Don't try that," he adds. "Don't make excuses."

"I'm not," she asserts. "I wouldn't."

"Then what?"

Leslie wrings her hands, then looks down and away initiating long moments of silence between them.

"Remember our club house?" She asks suddenly, her face brightening. "We'd spend hours there pretending to be pirates or space aliens."

He finds a corner of his mouth turning up at the memory.

"You were such a tomboy," Elliot recalls. "And you never wanted to go home when we were supposed to."

She never wanted to go home.

"No," she says quietly. "I didn't. Especially after my mom died."

They were only ten years old. Elliot hates what his warped mind, made that way by spending over two decades in law enforcement, supplies after that revelation.

"You guys moved away," he tells her. "I never saw you again."

Leslie nods, purposefully losing eye contact with him, instead studying the dingy, checkered linoleum floor.

"We were livin' with my uncle Eric and my older cousin Stevie after her hospital bills left us broke," she reminds him. "You always hated him because he picked on us."

"I remember," Elliot says. "Even then Stevie seemed like the kind of guy that wouldn't outgrow bein' an asshole."

His old friend manages a small laugh.

"He didn't," she confirms. "When he was twenty-two he was beaten to death with a baseball bat."

He can't say he's surprised to learn this.

"What happened?"

"Got caught in a motel room with a twelve year old girl," Leslie informs him. "Her father went looking for her one day after reading her diary," she adds. "Stevie had her convinced he was in love with her."

What a story.

"And I happily told the man where he could find him," Leslie concludes.

What a family.

"How long-

"From the time I was seven until I hit puberty," she answers without Elliot having to finish the question. "I just…I don't understand how I turned into someone I hated so much," she adds as the tears build again.

"Maybe while you're in here," he begins, looking around at the drab gray walls. "You'll figure that out."

"God knows I'll have the time," she says with a sigh. "When I come up for parole, Gregory will have graduated college," she surmises, wiping fresh tears away. "But I have earned every damn year they gave me and then some."

The instances in his long career that Elliot has felt sorry for both the victims and the perpetrator have been few and far between.

And this is certainly one of them.

Over Leslie's shoulder, the female officer signals to him that their time is up. When he stands, so does his childhood playmate.

"I'm glad you turned out to be one of the good ones," she tells him.

"Take care of yourself Les," he responds.

The woman nods that she'll try and heads towards the door where the C.O. is waiting.

"And El?"

"Yeah," he answers.

"Thanks for trying to give me the benefit of the doubt," she tells him. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry you were wrong."

"Yeah," he agrees. "Me too."

When she walks into his place, all the lights are out. Though the curtains on the windows are all drawn closed, the sheer material lets just enough moonlight creep in to cast shadows into his living room.

His silhouette is apparent in the darkness, sitting on the sofa with his head tilted back against the cushions. If he hadn't chosen that moment to drink from the beer bottle dangling from his fingers, she would've thought him to be sleeping.

Elliot squints harshly when she pulls the string on a floor lamp.

"Hey," she says simply, walking over to join him on the sofa.

Staring blankly ahead, he doesn't even bother turning in her direction. He's barefoot and appropriately dressed for the July heat in khaki shorts and a white V-neck t-shirt. He smells freshly showered but it doesn't seem to have done anything to relax him.

"Hey."

"Did you get the answers you were looking for?" Olivia asks. "Closure."

"Closure is like the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus Olivia," he tells her. "It's a f-cking myth," he goes on. "But yeah, I got answers."

"I'm sorry," she offers.

This gets his attention and abruptly he focuses on his partner.

"For what?" He asks. "You were right all along."

Olivia shrugs her shoulders.

"Sorry you got hurt in all this," she offers. "It doesn't give me any satisfaction to know I was right about her El," she offers. "Especially with the way it's affected you."

Elliot leans forward, puts the beer on the coffee table and reaches for her hand.

"I'm the one that should apologize," he begins. "I should've trusted your judgement, hell I should've trusted my own gut instincts."

"Why didn't you?"

"I just…I didn't wanna believe it," he answers. "She disclosed her molestation by an asshole cousin of hers that used to mess with us when we were kids," he continues.

"That doesn't-

"I know it doesn't excuse what she did to those boys," he finishes. "But I knew something was wrong then and I didn't do a damn thing."

"Baby," Olivia begins, scooting closer. "You cannot blame yourself," she tells him. "That responsibility belongs solely on the perpetrator, you know that."

"But I could've-

"Look at me," she interrupts, laying her hand against his cheek to encourage him. "You had enough going on in your own house," she reasons, eluding to his father's abuse and his mother's mental illness. "And you were just a child yourself."

Reluctantly Elliot nods in agreement.

"Had you known what was going on with Leslie, I'm sure you would've done all you could to help," Olivia asserts, giving a reassuring rub to his thigh.

"Thank you," he says. "And I am…sorry."

"Okay."

He leans forward to capture her lips, intending to keep it simple but an emotional rollercoaster of a week makes him draw it out. As he slowly slides his tongue against hers, Olivia can taste the beer he's been drinking.

"So," Elliot says, finally allowing room for them both to breathe. "It seems we've survived our first major fight since we started dating," he points out.

"It would seem so," she agrees, caressing the nape of his neck with her fingers. "But sooner or later, if we're gonna continue seeing each other-

"If?" He asks. "Something you wanna tell me?"

Olivia drops her hand, rubbing her thighs before leaning forward to clasp her hands in front of her. She looks back over her shoulder at him and takes a deep breath before continuing.

"It's not what you think El," she says. "I'm not saying I wanna break up," she continues. "It's just…we can only keep up both a personal and professional relationship for so long before someone notices."

Elliot scrubs a hand over his face as he sits back against the sofa.

"I think we've done a great job at hiding it," he reasons.

"Seriously?" Olivia asks, ditching her boots before getting up to go to the kitchen. "What about the time Munch overheard you calling me 'baby'?"

"I think we covered pretty well," he says unconvincingly.

"We're lucky he believed we were rehearsing that undercover op," she calls out. "And with this last big fight, I think Cragen suspects that something more personal was attached to the usual insults."

After perusing the contents of his fridge Olivia decides on the green apple tea that she's acquired a taste for. She leans against the counter as he approaches.

"It's not good that we even have usual insults," Elliot says, hopping up on the counter opposite her. "But I know what you mean."

"And it's not just having to stop myself from calling you pet names," she points out. "There are times when I wanna just reach for your hand or-

"Drag me into a file room and have your way with me?"

Olivia sits her drink aside and crosses over to him. She positions herself between his legs and rubs both hands up and down his strong thighs. Then she leans in so close their lips almost touch.

"No," she whispers against his mouth before leaning away.

"Tease."

"That's what you get for joking when I'm trying to be serious," returning to the counter for her green tea.

"Sorry," Elliot says. "But I know where you were headed," he adds, jumping down from the counter to approach her. "And I'm not ready to think logically where you're concerned," he goes on, sweeping an errant hair from her face.

Secretly, she loves when he does that.

"Me either," she admits.

"I love lookin' across our desks and seeing you Liv," he continues. "I couldn't imagine someone else complaining about my chicken scratch," he says, making her smile. "Or stealing fries from my plate at lunch."

"El…

"But I also love secretly playing with your fingers when we're standing in the back of a crowded elevator," he goes on. "The scent of your shampoo when you walk by, that deep throaty laugh of yours when you find something really funny," Elliot continues, causing another grin to form on her lips.

"El we-

"I love that you can't resist my pancakes, the way you looked in my shirt," he says leaning towards her neck. "And I love this spot right here," he continues, planting an open mouth kiss close to her earlobe.

Olivia shudders in response.

"I don't wanna choose Liv," Elliot says, pulling back. "Not tonight."

Moved by such an impassioned plea, she kisses him deeply before conceding and telling him, "Okay."

She's fallen asleep with him on his couch after long nights of binge watching The Walking Dead. They've woken up intertwined with each other after studying case files for hours while searching for leads. And both now have emergency keys to each other's apartments.

Yet between work and their crazy hours, their dates have been cut short, their meals interrupted and their movie nights postponed. They've shared furtive glances, brief make-out sessions and have tried to capitalize on stolen moments.

But they have yet to make love.

"Stay here," he tells her. "I'll be right back."

"Where-

"Just," Elliot interrupts, "Stay."

Olivia nods and she watches as he rushes off up the loft stairs to his bedroom. He moves about quickly and while she doesn't know what he's up to, she has the feeling that tonight will be unforgettable.

She returns what's left of her tea to the fridge and uses the time to freshen up in the guest bathroom while he does whatever it is he's doing. Once she's done, she notices music coming from overhead. And as she steps further into the living room, the song is unmistakable.

"I found myself dreaming, in silver and gold, like a scene from a movie, that every broken heart knows…

It's Meghan Trainor featuring John Legend, Like I'm Gonna Lose You. He's always been more of a classic rock kind of guy so Olivia's very surprised. They were on stakeout a couple of weeks ago when it came on the radio and she immediately fell in love with the song.

Apparently he took notice.

"Come on up," Elliot directs, looking down from the loft window.

She grins as she sheds her blazer, shield and weapon, placing them inside a desk drawer before climbing the stairs.

He wishes he'd had more time to prepare but it's truly been a hell of a week and he wasn't expecting her to come by after their fight. Still…he wants their first time to be special, memorable.

So, the inset shelf above his brown tufted headboard is lined with candles. He put clean white Egyptian cotton sheets on his king-sized platform bed. Appropriately sweet music is playing and a diffuser of her favorite lavender oil gives the room an enticing aroma.

Having watched her ascent, Elliot holds his hand out to her as she reaches the threshold of his bedroom. He says nothing as he also grasps her other hand, pulling her arms around his neck as he lowers his to her waist.

They begin a slow dance to the song, just as they had several months ago when he'd realized that her happiness was so indivisible from his own.

"In the blink of an eye, just a whisper of smoke, you could lose everything, the truth is you never know…

With the line of work they're in, the lyrics to the song mean so much more for to the two detectives.

So, as they listen to the words, Olivia holds him just a little tighter and Elliot pulls her just a little closer knowing that the next knife wielding maniac could be more determined or the next bullet could be fatal.

By the time the song is over, her eyes have the shimmer of tears. And he leans down to kiss away the one that's managed to escape before whispering, "I'm so in love with you."

Without waiting for a response he kisses her tenderly, sensuously and if he didn't have her so completely already, she'd definitely be his.

Olivia moves her arms from around his neck, lowers her hands to the hem of his t-shirt and begins to raise it before he strips it the rest of the way off himself. After tossing it aside, she explores the solidity of his torso, first with her hands then with her mouth.

Elliot threads his fingers through her hair, pulling Olivia's lips to his again. Their tongues do battle as his nimble digits descend to her blouse, unbuttoning it while she ditches her belt and steps out of her pants.

Everything is black satin and lace beneath.

"Damn."

Her only response is a smile before releasing the button and zipper on his shorts to join her work slacks on the floor. Then she backs up, turns and crawls across the bed to wait for him.

Wasting no time, he climbs over to her, meeting her mouth again before dragging his lips over to that sweet spot behind her ear.

Olivia sits up when she feels him lowering the straps of her bra. And after getting out of it she's quickly rewarded with the feel of his warm mouth on one of her breasts.

Elliot has been tempted and taunted by what little he's glimpsed of her cleavage for many years. To finally be able to see, to touch, to taste has more than satisfied all of his curiosities. And the moan she emits lets him know that teasing her with his teeth and applying the texture of his tongue is just as pleasurable for her.

Though it's never happened from that sole act, she feels an orgasm isn't far off if he continues the manipulation of her heated flesh. Olivia gets a short reprieve from the impending explosion as he moves away from her breasts and towards her abdomen.

To say that Elliot has fantasized millions of times about sliding her panties down those long tanned legs would be a gross and inaccurate understatement. He lost count long ago.

And when he looks up to meet her eyes, he realizes he isn't the only one.

She moistens her mouth, taking in her bottom lip before giving him a sexy smirk and widening her stance to accommodate him. No prompting is necessary. He kisses her torturously slow from the inside of her thigh until reaching what's about to become his favorite place on earth.

The anticipation is killing her as she waits for vivid daydreams and gray reality to finally and blissfully merge.

If her smell isn't intoxicating enough, being able to savor the most intimate parts of her is downright maddening. As she begins to squirm beneath him, he continues to coil and twist his tongue knowing he's driving her equally insane.

"El…ahh…just…please," she manages, fisting his bed sheets.

And just when he thinks Olivia can't take anymore, he deliberately draws that little bundle of nerve endings into his mouth like it's his favorite succulent fruit.

Unabashedly she bucks, arching her back from the mattress as electricity spreads throughout every cell from hair follicles to toenails, rendering her speechless. Elliot climbs up her body, planting that gifted mouth of his near her lobe.

"I've wanted to do that forever," he whispers.

A flash of lightening temporarily brightens the room and shortly after they hear a deluge of rain hitting the large windows not far from his bed. The sound has always been a turn on for Olivia, prompting her to eagerly find his lips again.

Recognizing that they're just getting started, she seizes the opportunity to flip their positions. He lifts up as she begins sliding the black boxer briefs down his muscular legs before kicking them off completely.

Having a naked Elliot Stabler beneath her is something she no longer has to feel guilty about wanting or enjoying.

"And if you hadn't figured it out already," she begins as he sits up. "I'm in love with you too El."

The new position puts them eye to eye and whether literally or figuratively, it's exactly where he likes for them to be. Her knees straddle his lap with an arm around his shoulders and his hands are around her waist when she guides him inside her for the first time.

Her heart is racing but her breaths slow as he pulls closer and therefore deeper.

"You okay?" He asks.

Olivia answers by kissing him passionately before beginning to move. She sets the pace, changes the sensation and creates depth with each roll of her hips. It's a powerful thing to be both emotionally and physical connected to the person you love most in the world. It overwhelms her to the point of tears. And after swiping them away, Elliot lays her down to pick up where she left off.

The intensity that he brings to his work is mirrored in his movements. He is an attentive lover, slowing his rhythm to match the pace of their kisses, then speeding up again to acquiesce to her pleas of, "faster El."

When his lips aren't attached to hers, Elliot is enamored with her breasts or leaving what is sure to be evidence of their lovemaking on the sensitive skin of her neck. The room is filled with their quickening breaths, their moans and the occasional sound of the outside world cheering them on with thunderous applause.

When he knows he's close, he reaches down to the same sensitive bundle he so adeptly teased with his tongue earlier and begins passionately rubbing.

In seconds Olivia is bucking again, this time letting out a scream. And after several more strokes his own climax follows. Though the heat of summer has descended upon the city, his SoHo loft stays perpetually drafty so he covers their spent bodies with his Egyptian cotton sheets.

She rests on her back, while Elliot lays at her side on his stomach, intertwining the fingers of his right hand with those of her left. They remain silent, listening to the continuing downpour as their breaths even out and the beat of their hearts return to normal.

"Just so you know," she begins after long minutes of quiet. "I don't usually cry during sex."

He gives her a small laugh, then slightly squeezes her hand.

"You don't have to be embarrassed about that Liv."

She turns on her side, bunching one of his pillows beneath her head.

"I don't?" She asks. "You wanna tell me why you're not worried?"

He moves to mimic her position, then reaches beneath the covers to caress the swell of her hip.

"Because I get it," Elliot answers. "What I feel for you isn't comfortable Liv, it isn't…reasonable or or quiet," he goes on. "It wrecks me in the most pleasurable way imaginable," he adds. "And it's the most terrifying and overpowering thing I've ever felt."

"You make us sound like some type of natural disaster," she replies, rubbing the stubble of his chin with her thumb.

"We kinda are sometimes," he says, grinning.

"But you're right," Olivia agrees, dropping her palm to his chest. "I've never felt anything so…strong El," she tells him. "You've always made me feel like it's okay to be who I am, like I'm enough," she adds. "There have been times when you've put me back together again with a simple glance or the sound of your voice over the phone."

She scoots closer, sliding her legs against his.

"And when you look at me with that fire in your eyes," she continues. "The rest of the world…it just falls away."

Elliot smiles as he threads his fingers through her hair, joins their lips together then pulls her up against him again.

When they come up for air, Olivia rests her forehead against his, eyes closed with a grin on her face.

"I guess I should admit it now," she whispers against his mouth.

"What's that?" He asks in a rasp.

She leans away to meet his eyes.

"That you were right," she answers. "That despite the fact that we argue and get on each other's nerves every now and again," she explains, garnering a smile from him. "You make me happier than I've been in a long time."

"You do the same for me," he returns. "And it's not just because you're in my bed naked at the moment," he adds, earning a playful punch to the ribs. "I'm just glad you changed your mind."

"Me too."

"I remember how you worried about not keeping it out of the squad or losing what we have if things didn't work-

"There's always that chance," Olivia interrupts.

"I know," he acknowledges. "But what made you wanna try?"

"I thought about everything you said," she answers. "How connected we are, how we're there for one another beyond what work calls for, but more than anything I was curious."

"Curious," Elliot repeats. "About what?"

"What it'd be like to finally and blissfully give in, to temptation."

"And?" He asks, grinning knowingly.

Olivia pushes him to lie on his back as she climbs over him, straddling his thighs with a mischievous smile on her face, hovering her lips over Elliot's.

"I'm thinking I wanna spend the rest of the weekend," she rasps. "With you telling me 'I told you so' in every way imaginable."

And that's exactly what our two favorite detectives do.

The End.

Final A/N: Alrighty people. I hope you've enjoyed the read. Don't forget to review!