A/N: Thank you for those who have been kind enough to review this. It does mean a lot. And for the person that requested another chapter, this is for you. Thanks for the kick in the butt!

"…and the shower is all yours." Elliot stood in the middle of the living room with his hands on his hips, trying to figure out if he was forgetting anything. He'd given her the tour and all that was left was the endless giggling and talking into the wee hours of the morning. Well, that's what he thought, at least, if she were a teenage girl. Something told him that she'd never had those experiences. Olivia Benson would do without the truth or dare sessions, toenail painting, and make each over moments.

"Elliot?" Olivia cocked her head to the side, staring.

"Sorry, what?" He shook his head, trying to focus on her bewildered expression.

"Are you okay? You just had this look on your face…" Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged, knowing he wasn't going to tell her anyway. "I'll be out in a bit."

"Yeah, okay." He flopped back into the cushions of the couch and sighed. He closed his eyes and let the pull of sleep overtake him, just for a bit. He awoke hours later in a daze.

"You should sleep in your own bed. I would have woken you up but you hadn't started snoring yet." Olivia peered over the top of the magazine and watched him settle back. She knew he would be determined to stay awake as long as she was. "I think I'm going to get some sleep. See you in the morning?"

"Yeah. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen when you get up." Elliot rubbed his eyes and stood carefully when black spots overtook his ability to see. "I think the milk is still good. There might be a few eggs, too. Make sure they haven't hatched." He knew he was probably not making much sense but he was too damn tired to care. "Nite, Liv."

Olivia watched him leave and felt heaviness settle in her chest. As she heard the door close, she felt at peace for the first time in a long time. In the silence of the room, removed from honking cars and cursing pedestrians, she thought that maybe everything was okay.

She'd gotten used to sleeping alone over the years. She'd wrap her arms around her pillow and crash out of sheer exhaustion. Other nights, she'd stare up at the ceiling and wish she didn't have to banish her demons alone. She'd heard a song once that reminded her of those dark moments in her apartment. One line in particular stood out, saying how when the lights went down that all you saw was the truth. She hummed the song as if she were listening to it on the radio. She didn't like country music but she didn't mind that song. God, how it rang true. She had no idea who the singer was and she almost Googled the lyrics but she'd gotten a call and hadn't gotten back to it since.

She set her magazine down and rubbed her hands together until the ink that had come off onto her fingers was less noticeable. Spotting a half-torn sheet of notebook paper, she searched for a pen. She lifted the cushions and found a mechanical pencil. The lead was going out but it worked. She jotted the familiar line down and stuffed the piece of paper into the magazine. Eventually, she'd get to it again. Quietly, she padded to the guest bedroom and closed the door behind her.

The room smelled of Elliot and she wondered if he'd slept in the small, twin-sized bed a time or two after a nightmare of his youngest children. Were they too old for that? She had no time frame to go off of. Would they go to his room instead? Walk up to the bed and whisper through broken-hearted sobs until a firm, yet gentle arm swept aside the covers.

She ran her fingertips over the sheet Elliot had just placed onto the bed; where his own hands had just been. She could almost feel the residual warmth. She climbed into bed and took a deep breath, wishing that her own apartment had that calming effect. Wondering for a brief moment what it would be like to walk into a shared bedroom, slip under the covers and into his arms.

Ooo

Olivia sighed and pressed the send button for the sixth time in less than an hour. Hearing the repetitive beep, she closed the phone and forced it back into her bag. Grinding her teeth, she paced the sidewalk. She startled when two feet came into view and snapped her head up slightly, mumbling a half-hearted apology to whomever she almost ran into.

The feet did not move, nor did the person speak. Her eyes trailed up dark, faded jeans and roamed further to the blue shirt tucked snugly into the denim. Toned, firm muscles with a tat… "Elliot?"

"You okay?" Elliot took in her set jaw, noticed the way she gripped the shoulder strap of her brand new messenger tote hard enough to the point where her fingertips had turned white.

"God, I just want this day to end. I really need it to end." She exhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and took a few calming breaths. One eye opened, then another. "I'm sorry. It's nothing."

"Still no power?" He'd seen her on the phone and although he'd seen her lips move, he knew it wasn't because of any phone call. He had guessed right. "Was last night that bad?" He smiled, letting her know he was kidding. He hated that at times, he even needed to. They used to be at a point where they could speak their minds and know there would be no repercussions.

"Oh, I wasn't calling them. I was checking on something with the bank and the phone lines are tied up. It's busy."

"You need some money?" He'd seen that look before but he couldn't recall what had happened for it return.

"What? No. No, I don't need any money. This time of month is always tight but I'm fine. Besides, you've got two kids in braces, Elliot. I'm not taking your money."

"Okay." He said nothing else. He eyed the door where he'd been headed after a quick stop to the corner café for a cup of coffee. She'd insisted she was fine, but he'd gotten her a tea anyway. Some days he wondered who was more stubborn.

"Thanks." For the tea even though she said she didn't want any but expected him to get it anyway. For not pushing but understanding that she needed him close in case she forgot that she was supposed to be tough. She reached out with tentative hands and grabbed the cup. "I wish I could move my desk out here."

"We could run the phone line through the squad room and out the door. Cragen might enjoy that. We'd be out of his hair for a while." Elliot leaned up against the building. The cool brick at his back felt good as he dipped into the shade. He could see the silhouette of the flag dancing around a line of ants marching single file to a discarded can of what looked to be some sort of energy drink.

"After all we've seen, sometimes I'm still amazed at the things people do to each other; to their own families." Although the case was high profile, it was textbook. Less than a half hour after they'd gotten into work, the phone rang.

Mr. Vicks had indeed consulted his lawyer and had taken the night to consider his options. Eventually, he'd caved. He'd sworn up and down that it wasn't his idea and that he was turning himself in with the hope that his sentence would be reduced. He'd written a touching statement, said all the right things so that he would not be the only one going down.

Word had already hit the press and a news crew posted outside of the house had the first glimpse of a sobbing woman exiting the house in handcuffs. The Senator, shocked with disbelief, had not come to the jail to see her. She was no longer his wife, he'd said.

"I had a friend in high school whose mother ran over his father after coming home from work late. Turns out the guy had just met with a private detective because he thought she was cheating on him. Guess that was the least of his problems. She'd hired a hit man and had been planning to kill him all along because she thought he was having an affair. She got impatient and decided to do the job herself."

Olivia organized her thoughts, put the words in the right order. She bit her bottom lip, letting it slide between her teeth, giving her the extra time to retreat. She released her tight grip on the strap and crossed her arms over her chest protectively. "I don't know my mother's middle name." There, she'd said it, but the confusion was there. She knew it would be, she just hadn't planned out the next step. There was no book on how to say these things. She'd only thought about how to break the ice.

Elliot nodded, staying quiet. He resisted the urge to speak, to tell her that they'd get through it. But, for a rare moment in their partnership, their friendship, he had no idea what she'd meant so he kept his mouth shut.

"When my mother had her accident I started sending checks to pay for the funeral and everything. A few years ago, I thought I'd just pay it online and I was setting it up and on the last screen was this security question. Now I just pay it over the phone. I guess I could just use another question. I just…I can't believe that I never knew it. I should have known what my mother's middle name was, Elliot." She chuckled in the only way she knew how to right then and there. The self-deprecation seemed to fit the mood.

"Did you talk a lot, you and your mother?" He approached the subject slowly. After being partners for several years, they still had topics to shy away from unless brought up by the other person.

"Not really. We talked but not about anything important. Not until I was older. Most of the time I was just letting her know where I was going or how late I'd be out in case she needed me." She thought of all the times Elliot would mention some minute detail about Kathy and wondered what it'd be like to know someone that well. "I guess I should have asked. There are so many things that I don't know about her."

"Does it change anything? Knowing, I mean."

"I don't know if it does. When it happened, I thought I could just have the money deducted and not think about it. I thought, you know, I could just move on. Sometimes I don't want that monthly reminder. I used to ask myself if it mattered, really, that I had no idea what even her favorite color was. Then I'd just start to wonder if she even knew mine. You should know that about people you care about, right? Little things like that." She let her voice trail off, wishing that he'd interrupt but knowing he wasn't going to.

"I guess it does change things in one way or another. I think if I could fill in all the gaps then it'd be okay because I don't want to keep going back to the times I'd rather have lived by myself than with her as a mother." Olivia pushed up her shades that had been slipping down, inching toward her forehead. She could put them on and close herself off but she wouldn't. She couldn't afford it because she was alone and damn it she was tired of being that way.

"Give me your phone." Elliot held his hand out patiently. He waited for her to pull it out and place it onto his upturned palm. He scrolled through the list and grinned slightly. She was persistent. Shaking his head, he hit the send button. "Here."

Olivia nearly dropped the phone when it was shoved into her hands. She held it up to her ear and cursed. Of course it wouldn't be busy when he called. Like so many times before, she rattled off the necessary information and closed the phone. She stared down at it as if were a foreign object. "That was the last payment."

"Then no more going back. Not unless it's worth it." He stared into her eyes, hoping beyond all hope that she wouldn't.

As she turned toward the building, he placed a hand on the back of her shoulder and whispered into her ear.

"I know your favorite color."