A/N: Hello all! Hope you enjoy this. It's been awhile since I last posted...i'm a little rusty.

Zebras are known for their distinctive white and black stripes. Their stripes come in different patterns unique to each individual. The name "zebra" comes from the old Portuguese word zevra, which means "wild ass".

She let out a loud chuckle. That was her and Elliot alright; she the white stripes and he the black, both of them unable to see the gray shaded area. She didn't know why she came home and googled 'zebra'. Truth be told she couldn't remember what Dale had said about zebras in the first place. She just remembered that he said it, and she couldn't get the five letter word out of her damn mind.

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It wasn't working she realized, an hour and half later. Her hot bath was barely warm, her favorite classical CD was on its last track, the bubbles were almost gone, and the candles were just about to burn out. She could still smell the chocolate from his breath; still taste it in her mouth. She shook her head and swore. An item she would no longer be able to eat. Of all things, it had to be chocolate. To add insult to injury she was due for her period. There was nothing she craved more than a plain Hershey's chocolate bar during this time. That fucker.

Her eyes opened; surprised that she was able to close them at all, even if it was for just a couple seconds. She grabbed her glass of white wine and took the last sip. It was pointless. The aroma candles, the warm bath, the classical music, even the glass of wine, would not relax her, and would definitely not put her to sleep, not tonight.

She gracefully got out of the tub, and wrapped a large navy blue towel around herself, letting the extra water evaporate into her skin. She went to the sink and brushed her teeth for the 100th time that night. She debated whether she should put on some cotton shorts and a tank and curl up on the couch; or a pair of tight jeans and shirt that accented her 'girls' and go to the bar.

Black and white.

Her mind was made up when she tasted his mouth in hers, again. Only 100 proof alcohol stood a chance at killing it, "Bar it is," she mumbled to herself as she walked to her bedroom. She had a good three hours to kill before closing time.

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She walked down the street to her favorite bar, The Lone Wolf. The name seemed fitting, no? Her new three inch strappy stilettos starting hurting her feet the moment she put them on, and now they were down right killing her. But they made her legs look like steal, and her ass pop just perfectly. Hell, she was a woman after all.

"Two shots of SoCo lime, and a blue light, please?" She asked the familiar bartender as she sat towards the end of the bar. She placed her credit card on the bar and her eyes scanned around the room looking for anyone suspicious. She rolled her eyes at her own self, always a cop, she thought.

Her shots came, and she downed one after the other with out even a shutter. She looked up at the young bartender who was smiling at her, "Tough day, huh?"

"You have no idea," she said pushing the empty shot glasses towards him, "I'll take two more."

The bartender smiled at her, and nodded his head as he headed off to make her some more. Brett was her favorite bartender; he always had a smile on his face, and never asked questions, "You know it's a week night?" He asked as he poured the shots, two for her and one for him. "Cheers," he said and they clinked the tiny glasses together.

The shot went down easy, and she knew that could mean trouble, but tonight she didn't care. "Good thing I have off tomorrow," she said as she took a sip of her beer.

"I've missed you Liv, I haven't seen you in awhile."

Olivia smiled, "Been busy," she said as she downed the remaining shot on the bar.

"Those are on me, for old times," he said with a smile and walked away to help some other customers.

Olivia smiled and exhaled. Finally, the alcohol was working.

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She took another shot in honor of O'Halloran. "Another one bites the dust," she said as she downed the amber liquid. She swiped the bangs out of her face, and took a deep breath. She could picture Ryan's body lying on the floor, helpless. He was dead, and Elliot had almost died; right in front of her eyes no less. She felt the tears begin to pool in her eyes, and caught a sob in the pit of stomach, now was not the time for an emotional breakdown. Maybe the alcohol was working too well.

She had gone to the hospital with Elliot, and while they waited neither of them spoke. Both to shell shocked to even string together a single sentence. It didn't matter with them anyway. Their eyes have held conversations for ten years and now was no different.

They had been waiting for twenty minutes in the small room when she felt herself start to break. She leaned over in the chair her forearms coming to rest on her thighs as her hands held her face. Elliot immediately saw her shoulders start to shrug, and quickly leaned over the hospital bed, "Hey, come on," he said quietly as he began to rub her back. He didn't notice the pain that ripped through his entire chest as he stayed in the uncomfortable position. He just knew that she needed him, and he would walk through fire to be there for her.

His heart sank as he heard her sob. He just wanted to wrap his body around hers and comfort her. But he knew, as well as she, that the rubbing of the back was as far as they took things, with the exception of the one hug (in their eleven year partnership) after the birth of his fifth child. Just thinking about it gives him chills to this very day.

"I'm so sorry, Elliot," she said as she tried to compose herself. "I'm sorry I hit you, that I hurt you."

She didn't have to say it, he knew. He knew every God damn thing she was thinking, because somewhere along their partnership they were able to read each others minds, become each others conscious, and know exactly what the other was feeling with just one glance into each others eyes. It's what saved them in that Lab.

Elliot smiled, "What, you think this hurts?" He asked as he motioned to his bruised and cut up face, "You hit like a girl, Benson."

She let out a stifled laugh, "Ha ha," she mocked, "I saw you squirm when I hit you, Elliot."

"I did no such thing," he said with one of his famous smiles, because of course she was right. Her hand stung like a son-of-a-bitch.

"You're such a liar," she said as she wiped a few straggling tears with the back of her hand.

And that was all that was said. His kids had walked in shortly after that, and Olivia decided it was time to leave. She wanted to ask where Kathy was, but she had a funny feeling that it was a touchy subject.

So alone she sits at the bar, drinking herself into sweet oblivion.

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The next morning can only be described as the worlds worst hangover. She woke up with a headache that made her blind. The dark curtains doing nothing to keep the bursting ray of sunlight out of her room and stinging her eyes. She tried to open one eye to see what time it was, but all the numbers blurred together. What she was able to make out was a giant glass of water placed next to her cell on her nightstand.

She groaned inwardly as she chugged the whole thing in less than 3 seconds. She knew who had put there, because he always puts it there, Brett the bartender. She rolled over and curled up into the fetal position. She told herself that the last time she slept with him, was going to be the last time.

The other thing that pissed her off was that she was too drunk to remember it. Of course that would be her luck, she got laid for the first time in months, and she couldn't remember a damn thing. She had to assume it was good, as it always was with him. Her inner thigh muscles were burning so she was sure she put on a good show.

She was just about to fall back asleep when she heard a small knock on her door. She swore silently as she rolled off her bed and stumbled to the door, wondering what he forgot.

She used all her strength to open the door, her eyes still unable to focus to the bright lights, "Whhhhat?" She said through an annoyed yawn.

"What? That's it? I come with bagels and coffee and that's how you greet me?" He said through mocked hurt.

Olivia's eyes forced open at the sound of his voice, "Oh shit, Elliot. I'm sorry; I uh…thought you were someone else." She offered as an apology.

Elliot's eyebrows raised above his head as he tried to contemplate the scene that just unfolded in front of him. She looked a wreck. Her hair was matted in every which direction and her normal tanned skin was greenish-white. His eyes travelled past her shoulders and when he came across her chest he instantly looked down. Her shirt was practically see-through! He could feel his cheeks become warm and it didn't help that when he looked down all he could see was legs; long, luxurious, perfectly toned, legs.

"You expecting company at ten o'clock on a Wednesday?"

Olivia smiled, and was suddenly aware of her dress ensemble. She was wearing a long white T-shirt without a bra, and a pair of boxers that she couldn't remember buying. She quickly let Elliot inside and shut the door, "Uh, Thanks. I um, I'm just going to change real quick," and disappeared into her bedroom.

He walked over towards the island in her kitchen and placed the bag of bagels and coffee down on the counter. It took him a second before he realized the shape of her kitchen. It looked more like a college fraternities than Olivia's. Most of her pots and pans that hung from the cabinets were thrown askew around the room. Her fridge was left open with a beer bottle spilling it's contents onto the floor, while what appeared to be her TV remote on the second shelf. There was a bag of popped popcorn that was never opened, and a bag of chips that didn't stand a chance.

Elliot knew that when Olivia left the hospital yesterday she would go home, take a bath, and maybe have a glass of wine or two. He didn't think that she would get completely wrecked, and destroy her kitchen. He smiled at the thought of a drunk Olivia stumbling through her kitchen during the middle of the night.

He bent down to pick up the bottle of beer that had spilled, forgetting for one tiny second that he was in fact an injured man. The amount of pain that ripped through his chest was unbearable. He felt his stitches separate almost immediately. He growled the pain was so intense. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the pain.

Olivia heard him from her bedroom, and instantly ran over to him, "Jesus, Elliot. What were you trying to do? You're bleeding!" She said trying to help him up and over to her couch.

She sat him down slowly and without even thinking, started ripping off his shirt. Elliot had noticed immediately. He felt the heat of her palms on his chest as she examined his stitches. He was thankful for the amount of pain he was in, because it prevented the situation from becoming quite an embarrassing one, as he was sure that the blood flowing out of his chest would travel to places he would never admit too.

"Are you okay?" She asked suddenly blushing as she realized the close proximity they were in. She was practically sitting in his lap. She could feel his heartbeat rapidly increase, and at first she thought it was from the amount of pain he was in; however, when she looked him in the eyes, he looked guilty. As though he was a child who got his hand caught in the cookie jar. It was then that she realized that she still hadn't put a bra on, and with the loose shirt she was wearing, Elliot could probably look right down her shirt.

Elliot backed up a bit, "yeah I'm fine," he said looking down at his stitches, "I think I just tore a stitch or two."

Olivia smiled up at him, suddenly feeling a bit bashful, "Ok. I'll um…go get some bandages." She quickly got up and ran into her bedroom to put a bra on first. She then went to her bathroom to get the supplies for Elliot.

When she came back out she put the stuff on her coffee table and sat next to Elliot, not as close as she was before, but almost. She began pouring Betadine on the cotton balls and swirling the cotton around his wound. She then got out the butterfly strips and placed them where the she could see the two stitches came apart.

"You always have butterfly strips in your medicine cabinet, Liv?" He asked her teasingly.

"I've had them for a few years. I think they are left over from---" she started without even thinking, but her voice cracked as she realized what they were left over from, so she stopped, and concentrated on cleaning Elliot up.

But he didn't let it go, "left over from what, Liv?"

When she looked up at him, with her puppy-dog brown eyes, he felt immediately guilty, as he knew her answer was going to cause her some pain, he just didn't know it was going to cause him pain as well.

"Sealview," she replied quietly.

He immediately regretted asking and placed his hand on top of hers as means of an apology. Her first instinct was to pull her hand away, as if he was on fire. Just a little contact from him made her skin scorch.

He felt her twitch and he knew she wanted to pull her hand away, but he was thankful that she didn't.

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They had both passed out on her couch; him from his delicate condition, her from her hangover. Together they lay on separate sides of the couch; their legs intertwined somewhere in the middle.

She woke up first, confused as to where she was and shocked to see Elliot on her couch. It took her second to remember that he had stopped by. She suddenly realized that she never found out why.

She got up from the couch being very careful not to disturb Elliot. She went into the kitchen and shook her head. Flashbacks of the night before clouded her head. She vaguely remembered having sex on her counter. What…a whore, she thought to herself. She wasn't in college anymore! Hell, she wasn't even in her 20's anymore. She couldn't be doing this shit anymore…having one-night stands with bartenders, not sex on kitchen counters---she thoroughly enjoyed that.

She cleaned up her kitchen and Elliot didn't even stir, so she decided to get into the shower. As she stood in the warm water letting the last 24 hours wash over her, she found herself wondering what the hell Elliot was doing on her couch. Why wasn't he at home on his and Kathy's couch? Isn't that where he should be? She wondered if Kathy ever came to the hospital last night.

She found it odd that she didn't come right away. Olivia just chalked it up to the fact that Kathy couldn't get a sitter for Eli. She probably came after the older kids left so they could watch Eli. Right?

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When Olivia stepped out of her shower she could hear Elliot talking, well more like yelling.

"I don't know, Kath! You tell me?"

Olivia shrugged for him. She did not envy the conversation he was having.

"Honestly? I don't fucking care anymore! Okay? Is that what you want to hear? I. Don't. Care."

She wanted to strangle, Kathy. Didn't she know that Elliot almost died yesterday? That he has over 30 stitches from the destruction that Dale caused? Doesn't she know that they just lost a close friend? Didn't she get it? How could she yell at him in such his fragile state? She wanted to fucking punch her.

She quickly got dressed, putting on a pair of loose fitting jeans, and a black top. She put mousse in hair, letting the waves fall around her face, she wouldn't waste the time blow drying it today. She wanted to get out there and take care of Elliot. She also put a call into Cragen, asking him for a few more days off. He was going to give them to her anyway; he was actually surprised that he didn't have to force her to take it.

He informed her that Ryan's wake would be in two days followed by his funeral and that she should just take the week off. He thought about getting her a psych consult when she agreed with no argument.

When she stepped out of her bedroom, Elliot was already off the phone. To her surprise she found him smiling, "Everything, okay?" She asked sitting next to him on the couch.

It took him a minute to take her all in. She had let her hair air dry, which meant it was wavy, and he couldn't help but think how incredible sexy it looked. He didn't allow these thoughts to cross his mind often; however, he was well aware that he was powerless to stop them, especially after a life and death experience. He couldn't explain it, but whenever he or Liv was in a life or death situation, the sexual attraction he felt for her was almost suffocating. From the moment she sat down next to him all he could smell was that wonderful fragrance.

"Elliot, you okay?" She asked again.

"What?" He said trying to correct his thoughts.

"Are you okay?" She asked growing more concern for his odd behavior. She put her hand to his forehead to see if he was warm.

Elliot smiled at her maternal instincts, "yeah I'm fine."

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After sitting in the silence for longer than she would have liked, Olivia couldn't take it anymore. She needed to find out why, Elliot was in her apartment, and not at home with his wife and kids.

"So…" she said slowly turning her head to look at him.

"So…" he replied, rubbing his hands together nervously.

She smiled, he wasn't going to make this easy on her, "What are you doing here, El?" She blurted out, shocking herself, as well as, Elliot.

He took a deep breath, feeling the pain run through his chest, but trying desperately not to let her see it, "honestly?" He asked, looking down at her with his defeated, baby blues.

She smiled up at him, "honesty would be good."

He shifted around a bit before he answered, "I'll tell you, if you tell me what the hell happened here last night?"

She knew right away that he could tell her stomach dropped. If he didn't see it, he definitely heard her swallow the lump in her throat. She shook her head in agreement, wondering how much of last night she actually had to tell him to keep her end of the deal.

Elliot nodded too, agreement accepted. He shifted again on the sofa trying to get comfortable. "I had no other place to go," he admitted.

"What?" Olivia said, as if her ears heard wrong.

"I said-- I had no other place to go. Cragen told me he didn't want me with in ten feet of precinct for at least a week."

Olivia shook her head, "ok…so why are you here? Why aren't you home, Elliot?"

He put his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, "let's just say I'm not welcome."

"At your own home? Elliot, what happened with, Kathy?" She asked, turning her body to face his. He couldn't look at her though. He didn't want to see that sad look she was no doubt sporting.

"It's just too much for her…I'm too much for her." He looked at her with those eyes that shattered her soul, but he kept talking, "Things weren't working out, okay?" He asked as if she was accusing him. He slowly got up and started pacing, "I thought things would've have changed. I thought my…" he looked at her, unsure whether he should tell her or not. He took a deep breath and decided to grab the bull by the horns, "I thought my feelings would have changed…that I could go back to loving her like I once did." He brought his hand to his face and rubbed the stubble on his chin, "and you want to know what the sick thing is? You want to know what makes me the fucking asshole that I am?"

She looked at him wide eyed, unable to handle his sudden confession.

He took a deep breath, "That I don't even know if I loved her all that much in the first place."

"Elliot, that's ridiculous. Of course you loved her. You have 5 beautiful children, you wouldn't have made it 20 years if you didn't love her."

"Then how come---" but he stopped himself quickly. He wasn't ready to grab that bulls horns yet.

"How come, what Elliot?"

He was quick on his feet with an alternative ending, but one that also held truth, "then how come it's so easy to let her go."

Olivia almost laughed; did he not remember the two years after his separation the first time? "You're kidding right? Elliot, when Kathy left you a few years ago, you ah…" How could she put this nicely? "Were a brooding ass 99% of the time."

Elliot smiled at her, because he knew she was right, sorta, "I had a hard time adjusting to not living with my kids, not seeing them everyday." He took a seat back down on her couch, and exhaled a breath that he had been holding for a very long time. "I'm just so sick of fucking up their lives."

Olivia placed her hand on his back and rubbed slowly in a comforting way, "Everything will be fine in the end; if it's not fine, it's not the end."

Elliot smiled and looked at her, "I like that," he said and he repeated it to himself.

"Yeah, I've always liked it too."

"So…you going to tell me what happened here last night, or what?" He said nudging her side with his elbow.

"Just had a few too many drinks is all." She said trying to say casual so that he didn't ask her anymore questions.

"Uh huh." His eyes looked her up and down disbelievingly, "and uh…what'd you do get in fight with your vacuum cleaner?"

Olivia's eyes went wide, "What?"

Elliot drew a cocky grin, "You gotta little something, over there," he said pointing to the back of her neck.

Olivia's hand went instinctively to the back of her neck. She saw it when she got out of the shower, but thought that her hair would have covered it. Damn, Elliot. Damn him and his top-notch detective ways.

"What do you want me to tell you, Elliot?" She said defensively, "Yesterday was a shit day and---"

Elliot put his hand up to stop her, "Stop. It's ok. I'm not judging you, okay?" He placed his hand on hers in place of an apology.

"Ok," she said softly, only slightly aware of the changing dynamics of their partnership.

Could it be that their black and white stripes have bled together into what one would call a gray shaded area?

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tbc...