A/N: Saw that last ep and decided to continue this. Olivia needs someone for all that pain and loss. Why not him? Forgive any errors. I don't do betas.

"What a fucking horrible few months," she thinks. She told Fin to give her a minute only a week ago and she would be her classically "fine" self. But they both knew it was bullshit the second it fell from her lips.

Simon overdosed.

Her old friend Rachel Wilson died by suicide.

Kat's rabbi Ralphie Morris died by suicide.

Ed Tucker…died by suicide.

She knows she's having trouble with it. With all of it really. Her focus has been the job and a son that's growing up too fast for her liking. One gives her purpose. The other, a reason to get out of bed in the morning.

But after the last couple of weeks, not even Noah has been enough to return the smile to her face and after Carisi subpoenas Dr. Lindstrom, she can't exactly go to him to talk so, she drives. Her son is thankfully at a sleepover. It took a while for her to be able to trust someone with her child again but that's a front she's made progress on.

It's herself she's worried about now. Olivia knows she's not suicidal. Nowhere close to it. But she's mentally and emotionally full, filled, bursting at the seams with too much all at once.

So…she drives.

Initially she simply wants to relax but skyscrapers turn into brick Tudors. Local roads turn into highways. Condos turn into beach houses. Next thing she knows there's a sign that says, "Welcome to New Jersey".

It's not long until she's smelling the salt in the air.

After taking the time to stop for gas, she texts him asking to stop by and waits, hoping he's there and not in the city. In the three years since she's last seen or spoken to her former partner, he could've changed his number. Hell, he could've joined the two out of his five offspring that reside in California.

Cu whn u get here is his reply.

Elliot could be dating someone or remarried like Ed. Maybe she rings his doorbell at the beachside cottage and it's a beautiful woman that answers. Maybe he says their last encounter was supposed to be their final goodbye and fuck her because she's the one that wanted it that way.

What does she do?

What does she say?

After a two-and-a-half-hour drive she has minutes to come up with something should that scenario play out. A dark gray Honda Accord is parked in the driveway. It's a car that blends in, is subtle and it's good for surveillance if he's still a private investigator.

Now she has seconds.

Olivia doesn't bother looking in the mirror. She's been crying. Her nose is red, her eyes are puffy, and her expensive so-called waterproof mascara is likely ruined. She does what she can with a tissue from her purse, takes a deep breath and rings the bell.

Between the breeze and the windchimes, she isn't surprised that it takes him a minute or two to register the sound. Time seems to stop once he's staring at her through the screen.

He's lost weight but still physically imposing. There's more forehead but less hair with extra gray. The lived-in jeans and azure V-neck sweater is a good look for him and so is the goatee trimmed neatly to contour his face. But his expression of relaxation quickly changes to one of concern when he sees what she's wearing.

She's getting an overabundance of use out of her dress blues lately. Too bad it's due to funerals instead of promotions or other formal events. Her contact after such a long time leads him to conclude that she's not wearing it for a more positive occasion.

"Olivia."

He quickly opens the screen door, stepping out in his stocking feet.

"What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?" She asks, a dry laugh following.

With a slight tilt of his head, he takes inventory. Her shoulders are slumped, she's fidgeting with her hands and she can't seem to maintain eye contact.

"Liv just—"

"If I'm interrupting something or you have company I can leave, I—"

"Olivia," he says, stopping her rambling. "You drove over two hours to get here," he adds. "There's no way in hell I'm sending you back to Manhattan," he goes on. "Especially with this rainstorm coming."

She feels as if a hurricane has already hit her.

"I…I didn't even check the weather," she says. "Maybe I should try and—"

Elliot steps forward and grabs her hand, the contact immediately stopping any thought of making excuses to leave. She raises her eyes to his, holding onto his gaze, still just as blue and deep as she remembers.

"Come inside," he urges, understanding her hesitation. "There's no one here but me."

Olivia nods her acquiescence and follows him, closing both doors behind herself once they're inside the warmth of his home. After she removes her wool trench and scarf, he takes them to hang on a nearby rack.

"Make yourself comfortable," Elliot says, turning the television off before returning the remote to the coffee table. "I'll be right back."

She takes the time to look around. A fire blazes below a mantle lined with pictures of what she assumes are multiple branches of the Stabler family tree. There's a shadowbox with his officer and detective badges. Bernie's artwork is now framed. Various knickknacks are sporadically placed. A brown well-worn leather sofa sits in front of a steam trunk coffee table, a cozy looking throw draped over the back. Everything is wholly masculine, wholly Elliot.

To her relief, she doesn't recognize a single feminine touch.

"Here you go," he says, offering her a tumbler matching the one sitting next to the book on the end table. "Whiskey," he explains. "Seems like you could use it."

"Thanks," she tells him, accepting the glass and taking a sip. "Smooth."

Olivia rests in the corner of the worn leather sofa, Elliot in the adjacent armchair. Both wondering why she's here after all this time. But he doesn't push, doesn't prompt, doesn't try to fill the time with pleasantries.

The wind picks up outside as the rain starts to hit hard against the window. Olivia knows she's safe with him in more ways than one can count. Perhaps it shouldn't still be so easy between them, but it is.

The drink is warming her inside, her proximity to the fire, comfortably heats the rest. Despite the calamity beginning outside, she feels a sense of calm she hasn't felt in months.

"Your mom move back to the city?"

"No," he answers. "She…died three years ago," he explains. "We reconnected after the divorce, another reunion Katie urged," he continues. "I brought Eli here every weekend that summer. She got him into painting, he got her into Japanese cartoons."

Olivia takes another sip before placing the tumbler on the table in front of her.

"What happened?"

"Drunk driver came barreling through a crosswalk," he answers. "Eli was with her. She pushed him out of the way, saved his life."

"God Elliot, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he tells her. "Thanks to Katie I learned and understood more about my mother in those three months than I did during my entire childhood," he goes on. "They say she died on impact. Didn't suffer. I only regret the ignorance that kept me away from her all those years," he continues. "Eli was shaken up for awhile but he's okay now."

"Family can be…messy," Olivia offers, tears blurring the flames before her. She takes another breath then, "Simon's dead."

"What? How? When?" He asks in succession.

"Last month. Melinda said he overdosed but that he'd been clean for years before we ran into each other," she explains. "He was supposed to meet Noah, try to get to know him at a lunch we set up and when he didn't show…I left a message for Simon not to contact me again."

Never handling her upset well, Elliot moves to sit next to her on the sofa.

"You can't blame yourself for his overdose."

"What if that rejection was the last thing he heard before he put that needle in his arm?" She asks. "What if I—"

"No, Liv," he interrupts, rubbing her back. "It's just as likely he was trying to get up the courage to have that lunch," he adds. "Addiction is ugly, it's complicated and whether he had five years or twenty-five years clean, it was always gonna be there."

"I know," she agrees. "But…it turns out he was just the first of three others in my life."

"You know three other people who OD'd?"

"No," she answers. "I don't know how much you've kept up with since you retired but the suicide rate in the NYPD has gotten out of hand," she advises. "Last week a woman I knew from the academy fired a gun into her chest," she continues. "She was beaten and raped years ago by a superior officer, reported it to IAB but it went nowhere."

"I spent most of my career in SVU," he says. "I know what never getting justice does to victims especially when you have to continue seeing your victimizer."

"Yeah. She spiraled down a dark hole then took her own life never getting that justice," she tells him. "And we got the guy but not without two more casualties during the case."

Olivia gets up, moving to a window to watch the beads of water as they stream down the pane, yet not really seeing them.

"One of my detectives' rabbi worked with the guy too. Shot himself two hours after we talked to him," she continues. "My shrink was the last person he spoke with before pulling the trigger."

"Damn."

"Damn is right," she says, laughing dryly. "I tried to talk to him about helping us but—"

"Doctor-patient confidentiality," he concludes. "Extends even after death."

"Guess that's why the subpoena didn't work," she quips, leaning against the sill. "But he did lead us to Tucker."

Olivia drops her gaze to the hardwood floors but not before Elliot has seen the sudden return of her tears.

"Don't tell me—"

"No, Ed was not her rapist," she interrupts. "The bad guy was Tucker's former partner before he joined IAB," she explains. "He helped us nail the bastard then he went home to his wife, locked—locked himself inside the study and—and…"

Olivia's in Elliot's comforting embrace before she can finish. It's reminiscent of what they shared after Sonja's death. Without his shoes they are eye to eye when she finally pulls back.

"Tucker had brain cancer," she explains. "He was starting to forget things, losing himself."

"And he wasn't gonna spend his last days having his wife wiping the drool off his chin," he infers. "Can't say I wouldn't do the same even though I don't believe in suicide," he goes on. "I get it."

"I knew you would."

"Do you regret breaking things off with him?"

"I regret the way I did it but no…he wanted me to consider walking away from SVU and into retirement with him," she explains. "I wasn't ready and between the squad and Noah…"

"Too many balls in the air," he comments, placing a stray hair behind her ear.

"Yeah," she agrees, releasing him altogether then returning to the sofa. Olivia reclaims her seat and the glass of whiskey. He joins her shortly after.

"At least I got to say goodbye."

"I'm glad," Elliot comments. "I've learned how important those goodbyes are," he adds. "The last thing I said to my mom was 'don't let your grandson talk you into junk before dinner'," he admits with a smile. "But she knew I loved her, and I won't fail again at letting those that matter to me know that."

It's Olivia reaching for his hand this time.

"And speaking of goodbyes…"

"What the hell am I doing here?" She asks.

"Hey, no," he says, subtly squeezing her hand. "I told you whenever, wherever, whatever you need," he reminds her. "Just wondering why three years seems to be your thing," he adds with a smirk.

"I have no idea," she tells him. "When I called you then, I was just looking for the closure I never got," Olivia manages. "I didn't know you needed it too," she adds. "I didn't know…how we'd spend that night."

She can't hold his gaze any longer, hiding hers behind taking a sip of whiskey before placing it on the end table. When he begins running his thumb over her fingers, she can't ignore him anymore.

"Watching you go…it was hard," Olivia confesses.

"It was hard to leave knowing you wanted me to stay as much as I did," he admits, releasing her hand to palm her cheek. "And I'm sorry your hurting Liv. So much grief and mourning in such a small period," he goes on. "If your squad is half as good as I know they are, no one is buying the 'I'm fine' bullshit, least of all Fin."

For this she manages to crack a smile.

"Not even a little bit."

"You don't have to be 'fine' with me," he contends. "When we're in pain as adults we need the same thing, we did as kids."

"Someone to kiss our boo-boos?" She asks wiping at a stray tear.

"Yes," he answers with a grin. "And to hold us and tell us everything's gonna be okay."

He's right. Now she understands why her heart led her here. When you're hurting, when you're in pain, when you're wounded, you go where you can heal.

Elliot threads his hands through her hair, places a sweet kiss to her lips, then pulls her against his chest and she finally lets it all out. She sobs from some place deep within her where she's been burying everything. She weeps for losing the ability to mend fences with the last blood family she had, for promised coffees between old friends that never happened and for the time she feels is slipping away.

"You're gonna be okay baby," he soothes. "I promise."

Minutes go by before her body stops shaking with the force of the tears she's shedding. He simply holds her through it, whispering words of comfort until he feels her relax. When Elliot hears her breaths even out he lays her down then covers her with the throw from the back of the sofa.

An hour later she awakens to the delicious aroma of whatever her former partner is cooking in the kitchen. Olivia runs her fingers through her hair, retrieves her purse from the coat rack and quickly locates a bathroom.

No doubt about it, she looks like shit.

But feels better than she did before she got there. After years of being a husband and a father, Elliot knows how to take care of someone. He listens more than he talks, considers whether what he says will hurt or help. There's no judgement about her decisions and he's not hesitant about offering comfort, holding her.

He's changed. Maybe she should ask for his shrink's card. Dr. Lindstrom may no longer be an option.

Olivia laughs to herself at the thought. Shrunk on the same couch as Elliot.

She uses her fingers to run some toothpaste over her teeth, washes her face, brushes her hair and reapplies some mascara and colored lip gloss. Her reflection in the mirror shows a vast improvement over what she must've looked like when she arrived on his doorstep.

Olivia finds him making two place settings for dinner at the dining table. Having heard her approach, he looks up with a smile.

"You hungry?"

"Starving," she answers.

There weren't any thoughts of food after Tucker's funeral. She didn't even drive home. Noah called to facetime with her and let her know he was okay at his sleepover. Olivia remained stoic long enough to get off the phone and borrow the Ford Explorer from the motor pool.

She just meant to get some air, feel a breeze on her face during the drive home. Then she realized the inside of her colorful but empty walls was the last place she wanted to be.

"And whatever your cooking smells great."

"Crockpot beef stew with cornbread," he informs her. "One of my mom's recipes."

"Sounds delicious," Olivia says. "Would you happen to have anything I can change into?" She asks. "I've been in this all day and it's not exactly comfortable."

"I remember," he tells her. "Come with me."

She follows him through the house past what looks like a guest bedroom to the master. To Elliot's. His king-sized bed would never fit in her small place. But it looks comfortable. As he searches through his drawers her focus remains on his gray and burgundy duvet. Flashbacks of being curled up beside him talking throughout the night bombards her mind. She momentarily flushes remembering their other activities.

"I think this'll work," he says, turning to offer a t-shirt and some sweatpants. "If not feel free to root around," he adds. "Ten minutes and I start without you woman."

He gets the smile he was hoping for before leaving her to her own devices.

Olivia quickly ditches the restrictive formal uniform for the comfort of Elliot's clothes scented with the lingering combination of his fabric softener and cologne. She hangs it in his closet then rummages for socks cozier than those she's worn with her boots. In a bottom drawer, she comes across a framed photograph of the two of them in the last year of their partnership.

His arm is thrown over her shoulders, they smile for the camera at some informal police function. A different time. A different life. Of all the people that have come and gone, Alex to Rafael, Don to both Dobbs men, Munch to Nick, she hasn't felt as profound a loss as she did when Elliot left.

Sometimes she still feels it and it dawns on her that she'll never stop missing him. "But he's right here," her mind supplies. And how can she miss someone who's present? With all the loss she's experienced lately, how can she continue to ignore the pull towards him? Is she really going to wait until she gets a call telling her he's gone?

Forever?

He finds her sitting on his bed, distressed look on her face, clutching the frame.

"Liv?"

Immediately she goes to him abandoning the picture on the bed, engulfing him in a hug.

"I'm so sorry El," she whispers. "I'm so damn sorry."

He leans away, wiping at a single tear with one hand, while keeping his other arm around her back.

"For what?" He asks, confused.

"Calling you out of the blue because I have no one else," she explains. "Pushing you away…wasting time."

Olivia palms his face, closing the distance between them again.

"I don't wanna do that anymore," she says against his lips. "Life's too fucking short."

The kiss is slow and deep as she delves into his mouth to taste him while sliding both hands beneath the sweater at his back. She slips her tongue against his, alternates between suckling on his top and bottom lips before he leans away again.

"Liv," he begins. "You went to the funeral of someone you cared about today. You're grieving for him, for Simon, for your academy friend," he reminds her. "You're so vulnerable right now."

"You don't want me," she assumes.

Elliot lays both palms against the sides of her neck, kisses her again with fire and passion, leaving her lips bruised and her lungs hungering for oxygen.

"When we're ninety I'll still be chasing after you with my walker," he jests. "I'll always want you Olivia," he asserts after letting her breathe. "But not like this," he explains. "If you wanna talk about seeing one another more often than every three years, I can do that," he goes on, caressing her cheek. "But can we please eat first?"

Olivia smiles as he takes her hand, leading her to the dining table and the mouth-watering meal he's prepared for them. She comments on how good it is, then settles into conversation about the classic detective novel she saw on the coffee table.

After she's done poking fun at him, Elliot describes what turns out to be a good plot in a long series of books by a great author. They move onto their children, the trouble Noah gave her the last few years and he reassures her that she's doing everything right. He still works as a private investigator but admits it's not as fulfilling as SVU.

"But at least it doesn't give me nightmares or compound my stress," he tells her as they began to clear the table. "And my kids, thank God, aren't doing that so much lately either."

They move around each other in the kitchen like they've been married for years. Bernie never had modern appliances so Elliot washes while Olivia dries. He puts the leftovers in plasticware, while she wipes down the table. The two work as well tonight as they did the twelve years they were partnered.

By the time they're done, the storm has mellowed, no longer battering the windows with wind and rain.

"You can cook for me anytime," she tells them as they settle on the sofa again, each choosing a corner to rest their backs against. "That was amazing El, thank you."

"You're welcome," he says, pulling her feet into his lap and beginning a massage. "You deserve a home cooked meal after the day you've had."

"Hmm, how are you still single?" She asks, moaning with her eyes closed.

Elliot laughs while continuing to manipulate the flesh of her soles.

"Well let's see," he begins. "The last woman I dated said I wasn't fully present in the relationship," he answers. "The one before that found the same photograph you had earlier and assumed I was a cheater," he goes on. "The one before that said it felt like I was hoping to see someone else every time I looked at her and the one before that slept with me after the first date then kicked me out the next morning."

Olivia smirks that she's mentioned amongst his list of women.

"What a bitch," she quips with a smirk. "But you know I didn't kick you out. Neither of us thought we'd see each other again. Plus, I'm still learning to navigate my work-life balance," she excuses. "Noah's getting more independent every day, I give him every second of free time I have," she adds. "And the job is a bigger headache once you're in the supervisor's office."

"But it gets lonely," he surmises. "And you don't think it's fair to Noah for you to have a social life."

"You cook, give great massages, you've learned to communicate without yelling or smashing things and now you're psychic," Olivia says. "Again, I ask, how are you single?"

"Emotionally unavailable so says my shrink," he answers. "Where is your son tonight?"

"Sleepover til Sunday."

"So, he gets a social life and you don't, huh?"

She sits up, climbs onto his lap and wraps her arms around his neck.

"God knows I want one," Olivia asserts. "But I don't know how to captain SVU, raise Noah and make time to fall in love," she confesses. "And I'm so damn tired of saying I'm fine and trying to do all this shit on my own."

Elliot slides his hands up the back of the t-shirt he's loaned her, pulling her towards him until their lips meet again and again. When they run out of air, she leans her forehead against his.

"You don't have to Liv," he whispers. "I don't wanna waste anymore time on women who'll never be you."

It's Olivia kissing him this time, an instant response to his beautiful words. She's never been connected to anyone so viscerally. Their sincere attempts at relationships have failed. She can't keep stopping herself from seeking him out. And with her having given him a feeling of such finality the last she saw him, of course he wasn't about to be the one to call.

"Do we have to figure it out tonight?" She asks, burying her face in his neck. "I'm too spent El," she manages. "Can I stay?"

"Of course," Elliot answers. "It was my master plan all along to fill your belly with hearty food, give you a relaxing foot massage and lull you into being too worn out to drive."

Olivia pulls back, giving him a sleepy grin.

"You neaky bastard," she says, caressing his cheek.

He leans forward suddenly, causing a yelp as he stands with her legs around his waist.

"Time for bed Captain Benson."

Elliot carries her to his room as if she's a child, flipping light switches along the way. When he deposits her onto his mattress, she doesn't let go.

"I'll be right back Liv, promise."

She turns on her side towards the window, clouds of the storm now cleared to reveal an unobstructed view of a bright moon and shimmering stars. He returns having ditched his clothes for a set of black pajama pants. When he climbs in bed, she rolls to face him, neither former partner hesitating to reach for the other.

"I miss you," Olivia says. "And not just because I'm vulnerable and—"

"Horny?" He concludes, earning a playful pinch to his waist. "What? You've never heard of sexual bereavement?"

She laughs harder than she has in quite a while.

"You made that up."

"I did not," he contends. "People grieve in a lot of ways," he explains. "Some go with comfort food, others drown their sorrows in booze or drugs and those like yourself want a reaffirmation of life, so you turn to more intimate ways of mourning," he concludes, waggling his eyebrows.

After her laughter subsides, she kisses him more. She can't help it. Maybe there is something to what he's saying. Then again, she's been physically attracted to him for years. And he came to bed without a shirt. Olivia can't resist caressing the planes of his chest with her hands until he stops her.

"I miss you Liv," Elliot says, his tone serious as he threads a hand through her hair. "But I won't make love to you until I trust you're really okay."

She places a few tender kisses on his chest before pulling back.

"You do know that nobility of yours only makes you more desirable," she informs him. "But I get it," she concludes, yawning.

Olivia turns to face the window again, reaches behind herself and pulls his strong arm over her waist. He lifts her shirt, beginning to stroke the soft skin of her abdomen. She feels safe, protected, loved and incredibly sleepy.

"El?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't leave me okay?" She asks, her tone drowsy. "It would break my heart all over again."

Elliot knows she's too exhausted to censor her words.

"Don't worry Liv," he promises. "I'll be right here."

Surrounded by his scent, wrapped in his arms and feeling his fingers against her skin she falls asleep.

Olivia takes the elevator up to the third-floor midtown apartment. Only ten minutes from her own. He's invited her over to see his new place, now Elliot's main residence while he's in the city. His old place in Brooklyn was out once his youngest moved on to junior high. The New Jersey cottage on the beach is a two-and-a-half-hour commute that's inconvenient when he has a client. And, when she needs to get back to Noah in a timely fashion.

Too bad though, she could use another whiskey by the fire.

"Hey," he says, opening the door. "Come on in."

Elliot takes her coat and hangs it in the foyer closet. The second he re-enters the living room, she envelopes him in a hug.

"Bad day?" He asks.

"No," she answers, but tightens the embrace. "I just don't wanna waste any more time overthinking," she continues. "And I missed you."

"I missed you too," he says, leaning away and threading has fingers through her hair. "Halfway expected you be doing something with the squad or Noah and cancelling on me."

"Noah's at dance practice," Olivia informs him, resting her purse and work satchel on a nearby table. "And I told the squad I had an appointment."

"Oh, I'm an appointment now?" He asks, releasing her to enter the kitchen.

"I don't know if you recall, but detectives are incredibly nosy people," she says, with a smirk, sitting on his steel gray sofa. "This is comfortable."

"Glad you like it," he says, opening the fridge. "I got beer, wine, cherry lemonade and iced tea."

"Lemonade sounds good."

He pours a glass and walks it out to her, noticing how she's taking in her surroundings.

"You want a tour of the place?"

"Sure," she answers, after taking a sip of her drink. "That's pretty good."

"Stop acting surprised that I can do basic adulting," he comments, holding his hand out to her. "I wasn't raised by wolves you know," he adds, causing her to smirk.

He helps her up and Olivia follows.

"Course not."

The place isn't fancy but it's modern, nice. There's a second bedroom for Eli decorated with a NY Yankees theme. He takes the couch when Liz or Kathleen chooses to stay. The guest bathroom is expectedly small but clean and uncluttered. So far, she's reminded of the apartment she spent nearly the entirety of their partnership in, the one destroyed more than five years ago when a certain psychopath showed up. But it's different enough not to reopen those wounds.

Elliot's bedroom is a nice surprise.

There's another king-sized bed she wishes would fit in her own bedroom, a couple of small shelves attached to the wall holding knickknacks and a few books. The balcony is what gets Olivia's attention. She moves towards it, then slides open the door. It has two chairs with a small table between them.

"Nice view."

"It's just 37th street," he says, stepping behind her.

"Still…people watching, listening to the traffic, the horns, the sound of the tires on the pavement when it rains," she comments. "It's a New York city lullaby," she nearly whispers.

"It is," he agrees, standing beside her at the railing. "I sleep almost as good listening to that as I do the waves at the beach."

"I bet."

"You seem kinda far away Liv," he says, reaching for her hand. "I know it's only been a couple of weeks…but how are you?"

"I hadn't seen Tucker in a while, but I still cared," she tells him. "The same with Simon even though—"

"He was still your brother," he interrupts. "Like you said, families can be messy," he reminds her. "It's okay to mourn, even if your relationship wasn't what you hoped it could've been."

"Thank you," Olivia says, releasing his hand to lean fully on the railing. "But I think losing them back to back is what had me…taking inventory."

Elliot watches as she breathes deeply, looks out over the city she's been serving and protecting for twenty plus years.

"People who do that are usually thinking about making a big change in their lives," he comments. "Starting something new or maybe ending something that's taking too much from them."

Olivia remains silent but her grip tightens then loosens on the metal bar.

"Thinking of retiring?"

"I just made captain," she points out. "Took a long time to get here and I'm not just gonna quit because I hit a rough patch," she adds, turning to face him. "There's always gonna be rough patches Elliot. I'm just…tired."

He steps closer, placing his hands outside of hers, caging her in.

"So, take a vacation," he suggests. "You and Noah go find some sunshine somewhere maybe—"

She cuts him off with her lips on his. Initially it's just a simple peck but Elliot pulls her closer, deepening the kiss. Olivia palms his face, taking control and tasting him repeatedly before they need to stop and breathe.

"I meant that I've missed having a partner," she clarifies. "I have the support of my squad…Fin's great but—"

This time it's Elliot who cut's her off. He slides his tongue against hers, suckles on her bottom lip then pulls away.

"I get it," he tells her. "Having someone to talk to or not talk to, destress with, bounce ideas off of or just gets what you go through without explanation," he adds. "Goes a long way in any high stress job, especially yours."

It's that kind of understanding that lead her to him two weeks ago. The home cooked meal once she got there didn't hurt. Neither did being held while she slept nor waking up in his arms surrounded by his scent.

"And I already told you that I'm here Liv," he reminds her. "For whatever you need," he says. "Especially the fun stuff," he adds, waggling his eyebrows.

Elliot gets the laugh he was hoping for and kisses her again.

"And for the record you are the big change I've madein my life," she advises him. "You don't get over the death or deaths in this case, of the people you care about," she continues. "You just…learn to move on."

"That's true," he agrees, taking her hand and returning to the warmth of his apartment, stopping at the foot of his bed. "You sort of carry them around with you," he adds, stepping away to slide the balcony door and curtains closed. "Seems like you're doing better."

When he takes her hand to go back to the living room, Olivia doesn't move. Elliot turns to face her, threads his fingers through her hair.

"You okay?"

"I'm good," she answers, reaching for his palm as he pulls it back, tenderly kissing the center. "I need something."

Without further explanation she leans in to place a warm open mouth on his neck. He closes his eyes at the sensation.

"Hungry?" He asks, as she loosens his tie.

"Very," she rasps, tossing it on his dresser.

"I don't wanna join the list of men you've left Olivia," Elliot tells her as she unbuttons his shirt. "Not six months or six years from now," he asserts. "So, if you're gonna—

The kiss that silences him is instantly deep and passionate. Olivia doesn't want to do any leaving this time around. She pushes him against the nearest wall, finishes removing the button down with his help while she devours his mouth.

Her heart pumps violently in her chest, forcing the heat to course through her veins. Elliot steps out of his shoes as she throws her own blouse over her head. By the time his belt is unbuckled, and the slacks fall from his waist, Olivia is down to nothing but her bra and panties.

"Someone's in a hurry," he says, wrapping his arms around her.

"Dance class won't last forever so we don't have a lot of time," she mumbles against his chest, peppering his skin with her kisses. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, meeting his eyes and then, "Unless of course, you're still refusing to—"

Olivia yelps as he unexpectedly picks her up and drops her on the bed. He climbs up her body to devour her mouth again. Elliot moves down her neck and towards her left breast as he lowers the cup of her teal satin and black laced bra. He remembered how responsive she was the last time he treated her nipples to his mouth and this time is no different.

"Shit," Olivia manages between moans. "I love it when you do that."

Elliot simply smirks as he circles her areola with the moisture of his tongue before fully taking the peach hued bud into his mouth to suckle. His hand journeys down to caress her abdomen before snaking beneath her matching panties.

But the hunger for him has been building for weeks. Despite the grief she's been reliving their night together to the point of distraction since she left the beach house. Olivia wants his mouth, his fingers, his…everything. It would be embarrassing if she didn't know he was in the same boat.

He's been fighting a burgeoning erection since he deepened her simple kiss on the balcony just a few minutes ago. Olivia grabs his wrist, moving his hand to her other breast while she cups and rubs him feeling him further harden.

Unexpectedly she puts her calves behind his thighs and flips them, wasting no time sliding the gray boxer briefs down his toned legs. She joins their mouths again, exploring the depths with her tongue. Olivia drags eager lips down his chest and over his stomach before eying him then grasping his length in one hand and rubbing his nipple with the other.

"I thought you said we didn't have much time," he manages, threading a hand through her hair.

"Who are you kidding?" She asks, circling her tongue over his head just once, causing him to bite his bottom lip. "Neither one of us is gonna last."

Olivia takes him into the warmth of her mouth. Simultaneously she strokes and throats him until he's solid. Granite. Perfection. Too concerned with having him inside her as many times as they could manage before morning, she hadn't bothered pleasuring him this way when they thought they were saying goodbye.

When she knows Elliot can't handle any more of her mouth, she slips her panties down her legs, kicking them to the side. Then she takes him in her hand again, positions him at her entrance and works her way over him.

The second she does, he flips them.

"I missed that the first time around," he breathes on her lips before kissing her, delving into her mouth, tasting himself on her tongue.

"It won't be the last," she promises after being allowed oxygen. "Now, where were we?"

A mischievous grin spreads across his face as he pulls Olivia's left thigh higher on his hip. He rolls against her once, hinges back then plunges in again, causing her to moan loudly. The grin turns into a full smirk once he realizes he found her spot with the first stroke and that she has too.

"You cocky motherf—"

Olivia screams this time and she knows his neighbors are going to hate her. She managed to keep quiet for Noah the last time they were together, but her body has instantly recognized that he's not here to wake up.

Elliot slides his hands beneath her shoulders, anchoring himself as he pistons his hips over and over again. He tries to silence her moans and screams with frequent passionate kisses but in the end, he simply hopes the older couple next door is out on a Wednesday evening.

She was right, he isn't going to last but he'll be damn if he finishes first. He reaches between them, begins fervently stroking that sensitized bundle of nerves until Olivia's back arches off the bed. The relentless spasms of her walls trigger his own forceful climax. But years of being quiet for the sake of the kids has made his orgasm a hushed though powerful experience.

Olivia runs her fingers up and down his Jesus tattoo as she feels him trying to slow his breaths against her shoulder. Her bra is half off, hair mussed and there's a fine sheen of sweat over her entire body. If she stood in front of a mirror right now she'd probably see that she looks the definition of 'rode hard and put away wet'.

And because of how amazing she feels, she could care less. When Elliot rolls off her, she turns to lay on his chest as he's pulling her against his body, caressing the skin of her spine.

"I really needed that," Olivia admits.

"Sexual bereavement," he says, causing her stomach to shake against his in laughter. "And no, I did not make that up."

"Of course you didn't," she comments. "Besides…I'm starting to believe there's something to it."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," she tells him, playing with the hairs on his chest. "And I guess you've decided I'm okay enough for sex."

"I decided…that I shouldn't try to decide for you at all," Elliot admits. "But it couldn't be the day of Tucker's funeral Liv," he adds. "You were like an exposed nerve and—"

"You were right," Olivia interrupts. "I just…wanted to forget for a little while," she continues. "But I shouldn't have tried to use you like that especially out of the blue without a word after three years."

"I don't blame you for not contacting me," he says. "We spent twelve years building trust with one another and I blew that up with how I left," he admits. "As good as it was I didn't expect the night we had to fix that."

"Well it definitely didn't hurt it," she quips, resulting in another laugh between them. "And for the record…I don't want to leave you either," Olivia tells him, getting up to gather her clothes after wrapping up in a sheet. "I don't just mean today but…not in six months or six years," she adds, stopping to meet his eyes. "I know it won't be easy. We have some issues to get through," she admits. "But I wanna work on this with you."

Elliot gives her a genuine smile. He looks her over as if she's standing before him naked.

"You'd better get in the shower before I make you late."

After she's clean, shampooed and blow dried, Olivia redresses and joins him. He's standing with the refrigerator door open, downing a bottle of Fiji in a pair of gray jogging pants slung low on his hips and nothing else. From the V of his strong back, down to the curve of his ass to the muscles of the arm he's drinking with, he's so overtly masculine. She wants him again.

But mama duty calls.

"Hey," she says, sitting on the couch to put on her boots. "What are you doing Saturday afternoon?"

"Nothing special."

The iced lemonade Olivia left on his coffee table has long since diluted in the warmth of his apartment while they were otherwise engaged. So, she joins him in the kitchen where he hands off the rest of his bottled water.

"Would you be interested in having lunch with me and Noah?" She asks, dropping the empty bottle in the recycle bin. "Nothing special just probably getting a slice or two at Motorino's," she explains. "His favorite vegetable is pepperoni."

"I get to meet Noah?" Elliot asks, failing to contain his glee.

"Unless you don't plan on—"

He cuts her off with his lips, backing her up against the counter, kissing her breathless until she feels him against her thigh. The smell of the sex they had still coats his skin and he obviously didn't bother putting on underwear.

"I plan on sticking around," he asserts. "Even when you try to tell me bullshit like 'it's complicated' or 'we're moving in two different directions' or 'we don't want the same things anymore'," he concludes, making her smile.

"Careful Elliot. I was there when you dodged Kathy's calls and had me covering before you two reconciled," she reminds him. "I'm not the only one with the M.O. of running when shit gets…rough."

He gives her space but doesn't let go.

"You have a point," he admits. "Maintaining a relationship for any meaningful length of time is a challenge," he continues. "But whether it was fate, kismet or the universe conspiring for us instead of against us all the damn time," he adds, making her raise an eyebrow. "I choose to believe that none of what we had with other people worked out so that you and I could be standing here right now…together."

Olivia smiles before she captures his lips. It's more than a challenge not to encourage a repeat performance of what happened in her kitchen three years ago.

"When did you get so damn sentimental?"

"About a millisecond after the day I found out you survived Lewis," he answers. "That was my 'life's too fucking short' moment," he clarifies, caressing the skin of her neck. "So yeah, I'd love to have pizza and meet Noah on Saturday."

"Great," she says, giving him one last kiss. "See you then."

He walks her to the door, pulling her into another hug before she can get it open.

"Me and you Liv," he rasps against her ear. "It doesn't end. Partners for life, right?"

She pulls back, palming his face.

"For better or worse," Olivia responds, her smile suddenly shy. "Saturday."

"Saturday."

She leaves with the optimism of all new relationships. The part where they can't keep their hands off each other will wax and wane. They'll argue because they know one another too damn well. Elliot will undoubtedly get on her nerves and she on his. Olivia has never been more evenly matched and innately connected to anyone in her life. She actually sees longevity with him.

It's not about her job stress. It's not about Noah needing another male role model for longer than a year. It's not about her recent losses in Simon and Tucker. It's not even about the phenomenal sex.

It's about knowing Elliot Stabler is her other half.

Some go through life never having found theirs. And though Olivia hasn't felt it lately, she knows just how fortunate she is. It took her too long to see it. She's always been in denial about her feelings for him. But she finally got there. She'll not waste another second looking for something that was serendipitously handed to her over twenty years ago.

This is it.

The End…no, seriously. I mean it this time, lol.