Hey everyone, decided to do a little fun/emo one shot idea that popped up in my head. It's based on the Season 20 episode "Blackout" where the crew goes to the Police Ball. Consider it a bit of Alternate Universe/Alternate Episode that "could" serve as a "Prequel" to Reemergence if you so choose that. So it's not as emo as it seems. Kinda. Yes, this is also smutty, ….. So, read at your own discretion. ;)

Thank you Cori for the beta.

And slide me a review. Xo

LINKED

Police Philanthropy Event 8pm.

"Two hours of glad handing the brass. I am so ready to be on my couch with my feet up."

"Or in bed."

"Or that."

Olivia remembers the younger detective's retort now, as his lips skim down her neck with enough restraint to frustrate even a black widow spider, as she spins her web with finesse to trick her next meal.

Meal.

He's a whole damn buffet.

And it isn't the bed she's worried about now, it's the wall. The concrete surface. The quiet parking garage. The barrier between them and the empty security booth. And the discreteness of behind the dozens of empty cars parked as the guests walk around inside oblivious to the two of them pawing each other senselessly outside. It's the heavy breathing, the pressure and his lips, his goddamn lips.

Olivia fists his suit jacket in her hands as he skims his hands down her thighs and back up again bringing the fabric of her black dress with them, inching it up slowly, deliberately until it's fisted is in his own fingers above her hip bones.

"Please," she pants in his ear, her face turns into his as he multitasks with his mouth and nimble hands. "I need this to happen at some point, the sitter is waiting on me to get home."

He grunts as he kisses the skin of her jaw and moves his mouth towards her ear, latching onto her lobe with wet lips. His hands are still latched onto the dress balled up at her waist and he gently tugs her closer to him with each of his next words.

"I can make that happen," he grins with a low growl. "One or two?" He asks as he takes an infantile step closer and places his forehead against hers.

Their eyes lock and they link in a way that makes her shiver.

Almost like the moment she had spotted him looking at her from across the floor in the ballroom inside. He'd been dressed in a dark suit jacket and pants with a white dress shirt beneath, no tie, first three buttons undone and yes, she could tell from the tiny table he was sitting at with a couple of other men from a different precinct.

She'd swallowed thickly, not knowing if he was a vision of the past or a reality. She'd licked her lips and glanced at Rollins who had been walking with her towards the exit.

"Uh, I uh… I need to use the ladies room. If I'm not out in five, go ahead without me. I'll catch the next cab."

The other woman hesitated briefly before nodding, pursing her lips and walking toward Fin and Carisi who were waiting by the glass doors of the exit," Sure thing, Cap. Be careful."

Olivia nodded and rehung her purse string on her shoulder as she turned on her heels back toward the main ball area. As she'd made her way down the hall towards the myriad of people gathered, the bathroom signs blurring as she quickly walked in the doors. The music still played from earlier and echoed against the swell of the new crowd filtering in.

The party was far from over for most of the guests and as she nervously scanned the room, her eyes had to double take as she spotted him again next to the drink table.

He'd stirred a martini oblivious at first to her staring, and then, like clockwork, she'd watched him still, straighten his back, and turn his head towards her like he could feel her eyes on his back.

That's the last thing she remembered before he turned around, his eyes locking onto hers and narrowing like a dare. Eight years. Eight cycles around the sun of not seeing him, or hearing from him in person. He'd looked like a ghost.

But when he'd walked toward the exit sign above the doorway leading to the parking garage, she'd followed.

Because she'd been a fool for this man in the past, and she didn't see that changing any time soon.

"One or two?" she pants in the present. Her body is pressed against the wall in between his hard, unrelenting muscle of a body.

"One: Hard. Two: Fast."

Her mouth goes dry for a moment, her mind blank and her breaths become even more labored. Her mind is jumbled and she swears there is somebody walking toward them every time he closes his mouth on something else on her body.

It needs to be fast, but she wants to memorize his touch. She wants it hard, but she wants to last. It's a perplexing question and she uses it to her advantage.

"That's no way to talk to a lady," she whispers in his ear, standing up on her tiptoes to enunciate each word.

She can feel the smile on his lips when he presses his cheek against hers as he presses his hands against her hips and moves the fabric up a little higher. He exposes her black underwear, which allows her ass to scrape gently against the concrete wall behind her.

"It's a simple question."

"There's nothing simple about what you just said to me," she whispers against his neck.

"How about I break it down?"

"Oh Jesus Christ. I'm on borrowed time. I think we both are."

He hesitates his movement for a moment, before pulling back to look at her, really look at her. He scans her body, his fingers squeezing minisculely at her hips before his eyes rise back up to hers.

"Silence, or moans. Steady, or wobbly. Subtle ache, or numb."

"What exactly does all of that mean?" she feigns ignorance, letting go of his suit jacket she'd had a death grip on, and moving her hands up his chest to grip his dress shirt tightly as she looks into his eyes.

He's dark, his face shadowed in the dim garage lights, and his chiseled face has a light speckle of facial hair.

It drives her insane.

His voice is thick when he speaks, and it goes straight between her legs.

"Do you want it hard as you moan my name in my ear? Or do you want it fast, that when you come, it's so quiet you can hear a pin drop?"

She breathes hard and yanks his dress shirt between her fingers..

"Ass," she chokes out. "Who knew the choir boy has a dirty mouth."

He grins, his Adam's apple bobbing as he takes another deep look into her eyes.

"Fast enough to where you come and can walk out of here like nothing happened, or hard, to where after you come, you walk out of here like you've never stood in heels in your life?"

His voice is low, a growl, an energy surging out of him she's never seen before yet predicted in a million ways in her fantasies. He's darker, sturdier, and lacks the filter she'd found herself latching onto in years past to keep them from doing this before.

"Simple questions, Olivia. How do you want to remember it? Remember me?" he growls into her ear again, his lips grazing her earlobe. Her head falls back against the wall, her eyes closing, and rolling back inside of her head.

He's cocky and somehow she always knew he would be. Somehow, she always knew this would be their endgame. One big fuck it out to ease all the tension that's ever built up between them in the last twenty years.

She shakes her head, purses her lips, and lowers her head again, opening, and narrowing her eyes. "You're wasting time. I could have gotten off on my own by now," she hisses, and leans her face in close, their lips nearly touching. "You don't want that do you? It's been too long, and too ugly for a long time, to prolong this, or I'm gonna have to catch a cab with no underwear."

His jaw clenches, and he swallows, seemingly unnerved by her lack of filter as well. She has to remind herself, this was never them. What's happening now, is an explosion of what never was or never could be.

She is insanely aroused and his hand sliding down the backs of her legs do not help one bit. He quickly, abruptly, grasps the back of her thighs and lifts her up against the wall in front of him. Her back hits the surface, and she exudes a soft 'uh" as he opens her up to him, and slides between her tanned legs. Her heels knock into the back of his thighs and he bucks against her response, like a reflex.

Looking in between their bodies, a small smile appears for a brief second before he leans up to capture her lips. This has never been them, however, with a decade of mystery surrounding him, it quickly becomes apparent that it was what was deeply buried inside of them both from nearly the beginning and what has never waned.

His lips are softer than she'd imagined but still maintain a powerful flex against hers. He messages hers between his own, his tongue glides against her teeth before she opens for him, and gives in. Touching her tongue to his is like tasting a room temperature beer at 3 am and wishing you had some cold pizza to eat with it after a long night of sex. Kissing him is like finding an earring that you thought you lost years ago and finding it's the perfect fit with the black dress, with the puffed sleeves, that stops a few inches above your knees.

He presses his body in further, and she inadvertently moans. He grins against her lips.

He feels good. His muscular body hits her in all the right spots and another thought hits her. Touching his body, feeling his body, is like waking up after a long coma realizing your body is the most rested it's ever been, though it's been in the deepest depths of darkness.

"I need an answer, Olivia. I can hold out all night… but you have to get home. Let me make you remember what it was like when you wake up at 3 am tomorrow."

"Fuck you," she moans as her fingers again clench around his white dress shirt.

He moves his fingers, cupping her ass,toying with the lace band of her underwear, and replaces his hands with the rough surface of the walls on her bare ass.

The humor that was in his voice earlier is replaced by intense desire that she's never heard from him before. Or ever thought he'd possess.

"Okay," he asks again. "Fast, where you feel the gentle ache in the morning, or hard, where in a few minutes, you won't remember where you are?"

She clenches her teeth and breathes hard through her nose, and when he kisses her neck again, his wisps of breath pound into her ear. His hands move against her again and she already knows where they're going and that for what reason.

Protection.

His hands flatten against the curve of her ass and that's when she leans in, her lips grazing his with each word.

"I don't think I can answer until you prove you can do either. I always figured you a little vanilla," she retorts.

He blinks and stares up at her with an incredulous look in his eyes. His lips tilt to the side as he looks at her for long moments. His voice, gravelly, deeper than should be humanly possibly, filters in between them, as he pushes forward even more.

"You're the only person I'd do this with."

Fingers clenching around his shirt once more, she pulls his upper body closer to hers, their stomachs touching as she painfully swallows against the dryness in her throat.

He's the only one she wants. So even.

She closes in and captures his mouth with hers again, her tongue sinking into his, the heat bubbling to an almost furnace level sear between them.

She feels him moving his palms and the fabric of her lace undergarments slide over to the side and it's the cool breeze against her that makes the heat combust.

She lets go of his mouth with a wet pop and trails her slender fingers down his chest, his stomach, and his zipper. Everything is so protruding, so hard.

She rubs the palm of her hand against him through his pants and he nearly drops her from the contact.

"Christ," he grates as he leans his head on her shoulder, his lips laying tiny kisses against her skin, leaving her nearly incoherent as she tries to blindly unzip his trousers.

She fumbles with the zipper, and the belt around his thick hips before sliding her hand inside and grabbing him.

He groans, and it's the most satisfactory thing she's ever heard. She wants to make this dirty, she wants to tease him, she wants to make him work for it, but they don't have time. They're in a precarious position, and she's open and ready so instead, she pulls him closer and he bucks gainst her hand, causing her to let go of him.

He straightens in front of her and grabs himself, and she instinctively grabs onto his shoulders as he presses her into the wall, sliding them further behind the steel barrier holding up the upper level above them. One moment she feels the drag of the concrete wall on her skin, the next, him. Inside of her.

He slides in and she can't help but moan out loud.

"Shh," he whispers into her ear.

She tries everything in the book to keep from incinerating from the inside out. His hips buck forward in the small space between them, sliding further inside of her and she tries to catch her breath.

It's been a while. But the way he fills the space inside of her isn't foreign. It isn't something she doesn't conform to. Her body somehow already knows him and wants to memorize him. She squeezes her thighs against his hips, and he falls forward, his chest pressing against her breasts, and she feels herself harden through her black dress. His palms hit the wall in back of her and slide behind her head as he pushes again, his hips rocking at an infinitesimal pace. He's preparing himself. She understands.

It's not lost on her that this is going to change what little semblance of familiarity between them there is left after nearly a decade of silence. After they leave here, he will have been inside of her. He will have come inside of her. She will have come against him and that chills her.

Suddenly she is cold from the air filtering against her exposed body too. He seems to know and he covers her and pulls his hips back, before slamming them forward and she moans again. He repeats his motion, throwing his hips back and then forward at a slow, tantalizing pace that causes her body to start trembling.

Her arms shake as she grabs his shoulders, and watches him moving inside of her. Hard.

His head lowers and he presses his face against hers as he moves his hands down again. He's aiming for her ass that keeps bouncing off the cement and she takes that as the first win tonight in all of this.

The second is going home with the feeling of him still between her legs. He'd been right, she'd wanted to remember what he felt like at 3 am. She feels his warm hands on her backside again and she reflexively spreads her thighs further so he can go deeper and she tries to hold back the sound tingling the back of her throat.

But when he swivels his hips and then bucks hard against her again, and again, a low growl escapes her and she has to wrap her arms around him and look to make sure no one heard it.

She holds him. She memorizes the feeling of his body with each thrust, she revels in the feeling of his body pressed securely against her sensitized skin, and buries the first sensation he pulls from her as her insides vibrate against him, her head spinning wildly, even though her eyes are slammed shut, tightly.

He holds her.

She buries that too. His hands slide up her back and his palms are gripping her ribs as he wraps his arms around her, and hides his face in her neck as he melts the last barrier between them.

He stills suddenly, and her thighs clench against his hips as the intensity of release overtakes them both. His hips buck several times and her head drops to the wall. His lips latch onto her neck to coax one last spasm from her as she pulls him deeper, deeper, deeper until she can't feel anything below her waist.

A loud beeping noise jolts them. Down the row of cars an aisle away from them, a man and a woman, hanging onto each other, walk toward the car they just unlocked.

Elliot and Olivia pause their actions and he scoots her further into the corner hidden away by the concrete barrier that secures her within the shadows. The other couple are oblivious to them, laughing and teasing each other until the closed door drowns them out.

The two former partners, in turn, look at each other with wide eyes, and a soft laugh comes out from both of them. The heat momentarily lapses and with a sigh, Olivia lowers one leg at a time from around his thighs, until her heels come in contact with the ground.

Elliot clears his throat, and removes his hands from behind her ass, letting her dress flow down over her thighs.

He slowly steps back and suddenly she feels empty again.

She catches sight of him, a glisten on him that she knows belongs to her and she blushes. He doesn't notice, pulling himself together while she breathes hard, her heart pounding.

The moment has passed and they're both flustered, but at least satiated.

The bit of his chest that is exposed is the reddest she's seen since years ago, when she'd pressed her breasts against him in only her bra, when he'd been undercover as an animal smuggler.

Those top three buttons are her new favorite thing and it's what she focuses on as she pins back up some of the hair that escaped in the tussle. She then watches him from the corner of her eye as he places his hands in his pockets and turns away, giving her a minute to more fully compose herself.

But instead of composed, she feels confused and mostly frustrated because what just happened felt amazing but it was impulsive.

He'd lived up to pretty much every damn fantasy she'd ever had about him but it doesn't solve anything. Doesn't explain anything. Doesn't fix anything.

"You want me to take you home?"

Home.

He doesn't know where that is but he says it like it's a normal thing after all of these years. Two separate worlds try to collide in that moment. Her son rests at home in one world, and Elliot stands in front of her, for the first night, in almost a decade, in the other.

"No," she answers too quickly, and she winces. "No, I mean, I'll just catch a cab. I live only twelve blocks from here. It's probably out of your way anyway" she laments.

Nodding, he raises his hands up in his pockets and an awkward silence permeates the air between them.

She licks her tender lips and is reminded again of how they changed tonight. They should probably talk. It happened so fast. But she's not ready to mix her worlds yet. And suddenly, she's not sure she'll be able to handle feeling him still when she tucks her son into bed tonight.

She's not sure what to do.

As if reading her mind, he interupts her thoughts, "Liv."

"I know."

"We should talk."

"Yes."

"I'm in town until tomorrow, at noon. Then I have to … leave again."

She takes a deep, strenuous breath and feels the muscles tense in her abdomen when she's finished.

"Leave again? You waste no time, huh," she murmurs softly, swallowing thickly because the emotion in her voice doesn't give a fuck that she just got laid.

"Liv… I'm sorry. It's not my choice. Not my decision."

"Where?"

He kicks the ground, and huffs out a breath, and a few tiny pebbles skid across the ground before he speaks. "I uh, … it's technical work. I uh, I just gotta leave town for a bit, and then the bureau is gonna take it from there."

She narrows her eyes, and watches him, he doesn't look up.

"Bureau?"

He hesitates before answering.

"Yeah."

"Have you been working in the NYPD this whole time?" she whispers in order to contain the pain slowly infiltrating her cracks.

Suddenly a hurricane of memories comes flooding back as the heat of their very recent history fades to a sticky humidity. The years start to flit by at a rapid pace, temporarily blinding her.

2011. 2012. 2013. 2014. 2015. 2016. 2017. 2018. 2019.

He bites his bottom lip, and her heart starts drumming at the possibility that he's not going to tell her the truth.

"No." It's a simple answer. "No, I haven't."

Her mind whirs with uncertainty and questions and no foreseeable answers. "I guess you can't say much?"

He shakes his head and she nods. She gets it.

"Can you tell me anything?" she whispers. Wondering if he's been close during some of the darkest hours of her life.

He finally looks up and his eyes are red rimmed, and his jaw tenses as he turns his head to the side briefly before locking eyes with her again. "This was for you. Not me."

She doesn't know how to take that. She squeezes her eyes closed and licks her slips,"That's not what I asked."

"It was for you. I'm free to give it. I want that to be what you remember. Trust. You trusted me."

Her bottom lip trembles and she feels him come closer, his heat radiating off his body as he pushes a stray tendril of her hair, one that had come free from her hasty attempt to tidy up, behind her ear. "I wish it could have been different. But I can't change our history, our link, our connection. I only have what we left behind all those years ago."

"It has changed too. I have."

"I know. That's why I wanted you to remember us. Something stronger than the unknowns. Mine and yours."

She purses her lips and pulls away from the wall and his hand falls away to his side. She reaches down and grabs her fallen handbag and hooks it onto her shoulder.

"Can we talk again? Before I leave?" he asks.

She wants to, but there's also a part of her that needs to keep her guard up.

She doesn't want to let him back in for him to break her heart all over again by leaving. And it's the leaving that's definitive.

She doesn't know for how long. She doesn't know where. She doesn't know why he was free to let loose with her. So many unknowns.

She has Noah to think about and she'll be no good to him, mourning over something she's never fully had. Again.

"I'd like that, … but Elliot… " she hesitates. She runs her hands over her hair before walking closer to him. "I have a son," she whispers. "I have to think about him."

His eyes widen, but just as quickly, return to normal before he swallows again. "I understand. I'm happy for you. I kinda figured something was up when you mentioned a sitter," he chuckles slowly. So solemnly, perhaps realizing he won't have the chance to know him, not at the present time, she realizes.

She nods. "You also have to worry about your wi-"

"No," he interrupts. "Trust me," he reiterates, his blue eyes shining dully in the overhead light, the red lines slowly dissolving.

She trusts him in ways that remind her of their past and she swallows back the uncertainty.

"I might be able to talk… later tonight. After Noah goes to bed. Are you gonna be up late?"

He turns his head, eyes low and nods. "Yeah…" he replies softly, timidly. "Where?"

She opens her purse, and pulls out one of her SVU business cards, and hands it to him.

"I uh, my cell phone number is on the bottom. You can text me, and I'll give you the address. We can talk at my place."

He thumbs the card, scanning it, and as he nods, she feels the wetness forming in the corner of her eyes, her vision blurring when he does that smile again.

His lips turn up at the sides, but he closes his eyes instead of looking at her.

She knows that he's seen the captain insignia in front of her name, and she processes that that's just one bit of information that he doesn't know about her.

What doesn't she know about him?

He taps the small card against his open palm, and then opens his eyes,nodding to the garage exit sign that leads to the elevators. "One more thing, I can't tell you how I know, but Rob Miller is bad news. I saw the way he looked at you, he's looking to sink his teeth in."

Olivia remembers the man from earlier in the night, his disdain for ADA Nicki Staines still ripe in the air, even if he'd left hours ago.

"How do you know?"

"Trust… me."

She locks eyes with him and she nods, the sincerity in his words drumming in her ears.

"Let's get you a cab."

Agreeing, she brushes down the front of her dress, and just like that, she follows him.

She follows him through the doors leading out of the garage like she'd followed him for over twelve years.

They stand in silence as they wait for the elevator to ding, his hand brushing against hers. She touches his fingers with her own briefly before the elevator doors open and they lose contact.

Hours later, he doesn't show up. He texts her: I'm sorry, Liv. I had to leave early. I'm on a flight out of state now. I'm coming back. I'll text you when. I have your number now. Also ...don't forget. -El

A tear slips down her cheek, and she walks down the hall into Noah's room and watches him sleep, his back toward the door. She has to keep it together for him. It's always going to be about him. Elliot still lingers around her, in her, but he's an entity.

Noah is her link to family. To possibility. To the present. Elliot was her missing link, and now the only link to the good in her past and she holds that tightly inside her.

If he comes back, there are no certainties, so she'll hold onto tonight. They were one, for one tiny moment.

Her cellphone chimes again, and it's work. It's Staines. She's hurt. The job never goes away, even if he does.

finis.