Author's Notes: Some of you might remember me from my days in SVU as Mousie962. I'm honestly not entirely sure what possessed me to write them again except that I've had a lot of free time, USA shows a lot of reruns, and Sara Bareilles' Breathe Again was a punch in the gut that reminded me so much of Elliot leaving. It's been a really long time since I've written these characters so I hope it does them a bit of justice.

For Laura, because she's made me enough gif sets that I owed her this.

Suburbia is deserted tonight, the glow of porch lights spilling across the street. It touches her windshield in a faint light, paints shadows to the pavement beneath her as she pulls the car over on the side of the road.

She had watched the life behind the windows on this particular street for years as she waited out here for him - an outsider in a world that was partially hers and yet not at all - felt that twinge of jealousy every time she caught a glimpse of blonde hair and children as they rushed past in some kind of frenzy. She'd smirk as Elliot stood halfway outside the door, shouting last minute things about permission slips and broken down washing machines that needed to be fixed; assuring the kids he'd be home by the time they woke up the next morning.

Some of the time it was truth.

Most of the time it was wishful thinking.

There are lifetimes of memories that rush through her when she turns off the car, the darkness returning, nothing but those dim porch lights from houses mostly put to bed for the night. The stoop she had once sat on waiting for him to come home looks deserted, as if it hasn't seen life in years, and she recalls how cold it had been beneath her on that night, the agony of the case tying knots in her stomach. After all these years she still remembers it, the way it had caused her to get into the car and drive to him, the relief that flooded her when he pulled into the driveway. Your one night as a bachelor and you go to the grocery store? He had grinned at her with so much more innocence than the future would see. Grocery store with strippers. He had eased her mind that night, reminded her of all the reasons she was in this job. There had been beers after that – one or two or three, the number doesn't matter – and she had left feeling like she was a part of his life, his home.

Olivia rests her head back against the seat, letting her eyes slip closed. Her chest aches, a fist where her heart had once been. She should have known that the moment he pulled that trigger, he would be gone. The light had flickered in his eyes, the burning flame of justice and passion dying alongside Jenna Fox. She had called for days after that: his cell, the house. It was Kathy who finally answered on day three, compassion and what might have been sorrow in her words. He'll call, Olivia. He'll be back. He just needs time.

It took three weeks before she stopped believing it would be him when the phone rang.

She looks down at it now, the black screen reflecting back at her the lines on her face, the bags under her eyes. She had made it through a ride with Rollins earlier without breaking, an interrogation that suddenly felt wrong without him. It had been over a month, but she suddenly missed the way he'd stand in the corner, arms crossed, playing bad cop while she played good. She missed the sympathetic tone he'd use to lure their prey into a trap, the amusement that burned in his eyes when she turned a man on only to decimate him.

Tonight, outside his home, she misses everything, even the things she once hated. If you had kids, you'd understand. A family of rapists. He was insensitive and a complete jackass but he was also the same man who told her what an incredible mother she would be; the one who said he would do anything to help her and who covered her ass when she needed it the most.

She swipes her finger across the screen and opens up her texts. He's not in her most recent and she scrolls down past Munch and Fin, past Amanda and Cragen, past cops who would never be him, to find his name.

El.

Like she had a right to be that personal with him, like they meant something more to each other than they were.

Look, we both chose each other over the job. We can't let that happen again. Otherwise we can't be partners anymore. I want a new partner. I just need space to disagree with you so it doesn't cost me our partnership. You're my partner. If anyone has your back, it should be me. You're his partner. You give him stability. You know things about him I'll never understand. We've been partners for eleven years. You know everything about me, even the things I'd rather forget.

The phone settles back into a state of darkness as a sob escapes the tightness in her throat. She can hear his voice in a rush of words, the lies that she had believed for years. He was supposed to be the one person who stayed, the one who understood that she couldn't do this alone. He was the reason she lasted in a unit most left after a couple of years. Cassidy. Jeffries. Lake. Even their ADAs had faltered, but he was her constant.

Until now.

Until he walked away and let their captain break the news to her just as he had about her mother's death.

She understands it, though. The need to run. There was too much between them that would never be said, that was dangerous and lingering in the air and would burst if she didn't walk away. I love you. I need you. Please, let's try and make this work. Instead she told him it was complicated and spent days behind a computer missing the way he'd mutter beside her in the car when they were stuck in traffic and fiddle with the music and annoy the shit out of her because he knew he could.

She hid away in the woods of Oregon, moaning his name in her sleep and refusing to admit what was right in front of her. She forged a relationship with Dean Porter and Elliot with Dani Beck, partners who weren't the other because it was simple and without investment, without love. She had hated him for allowing another woman to call herself his partner and he had hated her for walking away but deep down she had let herself believe it would happen. That in a couple of years – when his divorce was final and they were back on solid ground – she'd tell him or he'd tell her or a night over drinks would result in truth.

It was childhood wishes and immature dreams because this house, his wife, his children is where he's always belonged. He was once the keeper of her secrets about her past, about the job and the wall she didn't let down for anyone but him begins to rebuild around her heart.

He's gone.

Elliot is gone and the air escapes her lungs and she can't breathe. It's been almost thirteen years since she's taken strides without him and she can't – she should quit too, walk away and find bliss on an island, date someone who doesn't remind her of Elliot or the job or a life she had lost because she never said the words when the time was right. She should learn to live without the demons and nightmares and victims she could never quite save.

But she's still her mother's daughter, tied to a life that she was born into and one she'll never escape no matter how hard she tries.

She'll walk crime scenes without him now; find rapists without his insight and years of experience. She'll teach new detectives all he taught her when she first came to Special Victims.

She'll learn to live without him.

Upstairs, a light switches on. His bedroom. She glances up, the shadows undulating over the drapes that look nearly black in the night. She had come here for answers, to see him, to yell at him, but she knows it doesn't matter.

She'll move on. She'll shed the burden of loving him and live for those that survive.

And on those nights when she misses him, she'll remember the way he was there when she needed it most. The moment her mother let the alcohol win. Simon. Sonya's death. The tightness of his embrace when he wrapped his arms around her and she had melted against him, finding his warmth and gaining back her strength.

I should have come back sooner.

Words she knows she'll never hear from him again.

Olivia drops the phone back into her bag. There's nothing for her to say, no text that will ever convey everything she wishes she had once said. She turns the car on, letting her gaze settle on the window once more. She's about to pull out and head home when she sees him in the window, half hidden in drapes, watching her. The air catches in her lungs and in the darkness they stare like they once had in a warehouse another lifetime ago.

Things left unspoken.

All of it being said without words, like always.

And then he's gone; an illusion or one last wish, or maybe their goodbye.

Her chest eases only slightly and she breathes again.

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