Disclaimer: If they belonged to me, would I be sitting up past midnight writing about them? No. They belong to Dick and NBC and Sherman and Peter and not me.

Chapter 1 - Date

SVU Squad Room - Monday, January 7, 7:28 p.m.

The only significant sound in the mostly darkened room was soft clicking as her fingers ran quickly over the keys. It was early evening and they were trying to wrap up their reports on the latest case, due on Cragen's desk by morning. From the corner of his eye, he watched her movements across the desk from him, careful that she not realize she was being observed. She had been relatively still for over an hour, engrossed in typing the report, concentrating on the computer screen before her, it's light reflecting on her beautiful face. The only movement had been her fingers flying over the keyboard and from time to time her hand moving the mouse a bit.

Now, she was beginning to fidget. She sighed, reached up and dragged her left hand through her hair, scratched her head and then rubbed her left eye. She typed a little more. Stretching, she leaned far back in her chair, then sat upright again and hit a few more keys. He heard the printer across the room to his left whirr into action from the job she must have sent to it. She reached over and ejected the CD putting it in its case and then in her top drawer. Before closing the drawer she took out a bottle of Tylenol Extra Strength and poured two capsules into her hand. She picked up the water bottle on her desk and washed them down with the last bit of water in it before she threw it in the trash. He had noticed that she seemed to be eating Tylenol the last week or so. He wanted to ask her about it, but knew she would tell him to mind his own business.

He saw the computer screen start it's log-off routine and watched as the NYPD screen saver appeared. She scooped up a handful of papers and bumped them on the desk, lining up all the pages together. She paper clipped them and set them in the IN box on the corner of her desk. She put the stack of files that littered her desk, in her bottom desk drawer and locked it. Picking up several pens and pencils, she placed them in the pencil holder by the computer.

As she stood up, her back to him, he dropped his pretense of proofing the report he had written and continued watching, taking in her appearance. She had on a light blue shirt with ruffled collar and cuffs, that showed from under her tight black sweater. The neck of both plunged just a little too much to be completely modest but neither were they revealing. She had put on a little bit of weight over the last year and half. Not that she was fat. It actually filled her out in all the right places, made her seem softer, even more attractive, as if that were possible, he thought. She would smack him if she knew what he was thinking right now. Her black jeans had thin white pin stripes and flared out over her black boots, nearly reaching the floor. She almost always wore boots. She crossed the room to get the print job, returned to her desk, flipped to the last page, signed it, put it in a large gold envelope, and wrote 'Captain Cragen, SVU - Micelli' on it and took it to Cragen's office.

Cragen was still at work, too, frowning at whatever he was reading. "Cap, here's the Micelli report. Elliot's finishing the witness statements. Unless you have something else for me, I'm out of here, okay?" She smiled as she handed them to him.

He stood, taking the report and dropping it on his desk. "No...nothing else. Come on, I'll walk you out." He took her by the elbow.

"Oh...okay. Just let me get my things." She headed back to her desk

She put on her thigh length black jacket, picked up her keys and cell phone and pushed her chair under her desk.

"G'night." She said to Elliot, barely glancing at him as he looked up.

"Yea." He grunted, watching her every step. He loved watching her walk. He loved everything about her.

They had come to a point in their relationship, once again, where they said very little to one another outside of work-related issues and even that was as little as possible. They no longer discussed a case to death, or bounced theories off each other. And they never turned to each other when a case was too gut wrenching, too heart breaking, too emotionally draining. He knew it was his fault.

After he went back home because Kathy was pregnant, he knew he had to let Olivia go, let her be free to live a life of her own. He didn't know how to tell her that was what he was doing when he tried to act like he did not care about her anymore. He did not know how hard it would be. It was killing him and he was sure, her as well.

When that pizza box bomb that was meant for her, exploded, destroying the squad room, he had wanted to run to her and pull her to him and tell her how thankful he was that she was not hurt, that she was not even in the room when the explosion occurred.

When she was attacked in her apartment by a knife wielding intruder and slashed from her wrist to her elbow, but had managed to fight him off, what had he said? He had looked at the perp, being taken away by EMTs and said, "You sure beat the crap out of him," as if he were proud of what she had done. He was. He had shown no concern for her and her injury, yet it took all he could do to keep from finishing the job she had started with the guy. He had heard her call go out on the radio and nearly dropped to his knees as the reality of what he had just heard punched him in the gut. But she could never know what it did to him.

When Fin told him about the accident, he wondered what was wrong with him that his first thought was for Olivia's safety over that of his wife and unborn child. But when he saw her at the hospital, covered in blood, he had run right by her to Kathy's room. He did not even acknowledge her, but ran right by her as if she meant nothing, as if she were nobody to him. When in reality, she was everything. He knew if he stopped to talk to her, he would lose any semblance of the tenuous grip he had on his shredded emotions and would not be able to be held accountable for his actions. When in reality he wanted to run his hands over every inch of her to see for himself that she had no wound, no cut, no injury, to hold her close and breathe her in, comforting himself by comforting her. Cragen had told them en route that she was not really hurt, at least not physically. He knew he hurt her when he acted like she was of no importance to him. But then he had hugged her and every thing he had tried to deny, everything that lived just below the surface, had rushed out to hit him full force. In that ten second or so hug, he felt more complete than he had ever felt in his entire life. He was in awe that just holding her to him made him feel that way.

More recently, when she had watched FBI Agent Lauren Cooper eat her gun, he had not been there for her. Lake was there and told him what had happened. He did not tell him Olivia's reaction but Elliot knew her, better than himself and he knew it affected her deeply. She would not talk to him about it, he tried to get her to...sort of...but she had brushed him off and he did not push like he had in the past when he knew she needed to talk about a case. He knew she had nightmares about it. Don't ask him how he knew. He just did. He had let her down in every way imaginable.

As hard as it was to act like he no longer cared about her, it was easier than letting her know he cared and knowing that he could never be with her. He could never freely love her, be what she needed. What she deserved. So, their relationship had become one of tolerance. They were partners, not friends anymore, and they worked together. That's all. Co-workers. They barely got along now, when once they had been completely in sync.

She walked over to Cragen who was waiting near the double doors. "Did I hear Munch ask you about dinner plans tonight?" He asked.

She laughed. "Well, I had plans at 6:00." She turned her watch to see the time. "It's now 7:43. He told me to meet him at Flannery's if I finished before 8:00. I think I can make it."

"Munch or your date?" The question made her laugh.

She rolled her eyes at him. "My date."

He said something else, but Elliot could not make out what because they had gone through the double doors and were in the hall heading for the elevators. He could hear her laughter, though, and wondered what Cragen said that was so funny. He also wondered who the guy was at Flannery's waiting. For her.

- - - - - - - - - -

Flannery's Pub & Grill - Monday, January 7, 7:55 p.m.

She made it to Flannery's with five minutes to spare. Looking around, she spotted him sitting alone at a small booth toward the middle of the restaurant. As she walked by the bar area to go to him, a big, bulky shadow blocked her view. Someone had stepped in front of her.

"Hi, darling. What's your number?" He asked, his words slightly slurred.

She smirked at the man and flashed her badge. "It's NYPD 40143. Give me a call sometime, sweetheart." He nearly fell over trying to back away from her as quickly as he could.

She chuckled and was still smiling as she approached the table, her date stood up and hugged her, kissing her cheek.

"That badge comes in handy, huh? I'm glad you made it. You know, I was going to give you another thirty minutes." He loosened his grip on her as he slid into the booth, pulling her with him.

"Pierce!" She laughed. "It's not big enough for both of us!"

He held her tightly. "If I let you go, promise you'll stay right here."

She kissed him quickly on the lips, laughing. "I promise."

He let her go. Pierce Kent worked for the NYPD as an analyst in the Computer Crimes Squad Unit. She had met him when she worked for the unit a while back. He had wanted to date her then, but she was trying to decide what was going on with her and Elliot and their complicated relationship. Over a year and a half later, she still did not know the answer, but had recently decided she was never going to know now that Elliot was back at home and she needed to go on and live her own life. Pierce was about 6 feet tall, blonde hair, cut short but long enough to spike just a bit. He had a nice build but was not what she would call muscular. Not like her partner, anyway. He had beautiful green eyes and a brilliant smile. He had a five o'clock...well, eight o'clock shadow, that made him look ruggedly handsome especially since he was dressed in worn out jeans and a cream colored cable-knit sweater. They had run into each other at a seminar, he asked her out and they had been seeing each other for about five weeks.

She enjoyed being with him. He was funny, interesting and smart. And there was no baggage, no history, good or bad between them. They had a good bit in common from music to movies to books. They could discuss cases from both points of view since he worked a lot of the SVU cases from the computer aspect and she had once worked in the unit and knew that side as well. The only problem was no matter how much he understood her work, he did not understand how her schedule was not her own and it could change at the drop of a hat and she had no control over it whatsoever. This was the fourth time in less than two weeks that they had to change or scrap their plans. Three nights ago they fought about it. She did not want a repeat tonight.

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SVU Squad Room - Monday, January 7, 8:10 p.m.

A date. She had a date and he wanted to know who the heck with and was it serious. He didn't know why it bothered him so much. It shouldn't. After all, he was back with Kathy, had a six week old baby boy and four other kids. His wife and son had survived a horrific car accident and he should be ecstatic that they were alive and healthy. He was. He was relieved they were fine. He was relieved that Liv was fine, too. He just wished he was not so miserable with his own life. He felt like he was eighteen again and his girlfriend had told him she was pregnant. He was trapped then and he was trapped now. The first time he was bound by his Catholic upbringing, his and Kathy's parents and the fact that a man was supposed to take responsibility for his actions. He did, but the resentment he felt sometimes overwhelmed him.

For twenty years he was the faithful husband and father and what did it get him? A wife that left him and took his kids because he wouldn't talk to her, because his job kept him from being home for dinners, homework and tucking the kids into bed, from attending plays, concerts and ball games, from being part of the family. Funny thing was, his kids seemed to get it. They got that the job was in his blood and seemed to understand it was something he had to do. They took what they could, enjoyed being with him when he found time and seldom complained.

But, Kathy? She whined, complained, threatened all the time, begged him to transfer out to another unit where he would have a steadier schedule, even if he were unhappy with the work. They fought almost all the time he was at home about one or the other of these things. Or Olivia. Kathy was convinced he would rather be with her than his family. Convinced they were having an affair. They were not, had not, but he did not think she really believed him, though since the accident she had not mentioned anything other than how great Olivia was to them. She had saved them after the accident.

During his and Kathy's separation, he nearly lost his mind. It took him almost two years to sign the divorce papers. He thought he wanted to go back home. But then he realized maybe he didn't. Maybe he was just looking for what was familiar and comfortable even if it was comfortably bad. But then he realized he had feelings for someone else. His partner of eight years was always on his mind. It did not matter that they spent hours together each day and sometimes night. When they were apart, his thoughts were filled with her. But still, he went to Kathy one night after a particularly difficult case and she became pregnant with their fifth child. Once again he was trapped for all the same reasons, the wrong reasons and forced to be a man and take responsibility for his actions. He did. He was miserable and he was sure Kathy was, too.

Standing on the street in front of the precinct, he breathed the cold night air and wondered again who this jerk was she was dating. Pulling his jacket closer around him, he jammed his hands deep in his coat pockets and headed for Flannery's two blocks away.

- - - - - - - - - -

Flannery's Pub & Grill - Monday, January 7, 8:15 p.m.

"So...you finish up that report?" Pierce asked as he ate another chicken finger.

"Uh-huh." She was chewing the bite of chicken she had dipped in ranch dressing. "All done. These are so good. Or I am just so hungry!"

"Great. Does that mean we can have tomorrow evening to ourselves? He used his thumb to wipe some dressing from the side of her mouth, then he leaned over and kissed her.

"Well...unless we get a call. Elliot and I are catching over the weekend." She pushed her plate away and wiped her mouth.

She leaned back and felt his arm around her shoulders. He began to massage her right shoulder and then moved to her neck.

"Wow...I can feel the knots back here...you must be some kind of stressed. Here, turn around and I'll work some of these kinks out." He turned her and began kneading her shoulders and neck with both hands.

"Maybe it will ease my headache, too." She said softly.

"You might need to see a doctor about that, you know...it's been over a week." His voice was full of concern.

"Hmmmm...maybe I will...that feels so good, Pierce...hmmm. You keep doing that and I may fall out asleep right here in front of everyone!" She looked over her shoulder at him and he kissed her.

"Asleep! I thought my fingers worked another kind of magic!" He laughed and so did she as she turned, leaning into him as he kissed her gently and deeply.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Elliot was not laughing. He was simmering with rage. He did not know what he was supposed to feel anymore. Confusion swirled in his mind. He had realized a couple of years ago that he had feelings that were more than partner/best friend feelings for Olivia. But he pushed them aside, shoved them back into his heart, ignored them, denied he felt anything and pretended every thing was as it had always been. Only problem was, nothing was as it had been and he was not fooling anyone, least of all himself.

Then Victor Gitano entered their lives for a relatively small moment in time, in the overall scheme of things, yet, he changed them forever, making sure they could not ignore this thing between them. He forced them to face those feelings. In that moment when he witnessed Gitano's knife slash her neck, watched as her body bounced violently off the hard, cold floor of the bus terminal, he knew. Knew beyond any doubt that he loved, was in love with his partner, his best friend, Olivia Benson. In that moment his heart had ceased beating and did not commence again until he was on his knees beside her and he heard her speak to him.

'It's okay, I'm okay. Where's Gitano? Go Elliot, go, I'm fine. Go!' She had whispered urgently, hand to her neck, blood seeping between her fingers, her eyes wide with fear.

Now, watching as this stranger, this date of Liv's, this jerk massaged her neck and shoulders, kissed her lips and whispered in her ear, he knew he had no more right to the feelings he felt now than the ones he knew he had felt for two years. Or at least, acknowledged for two years. He was married. He had no right to be jealous that Olivia was with another man. A new man he had never even heard her mention.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

SVU Squad Room - Tuesday, January 8, 7:50 a.m.

The next morning Olivia was not at her desk like she usually was when Elliot got there. He wondered where she was, but then realized it really was not late, just late for her. Cragen's voice startled him as he was settling at his desk.

"Elliot, Liv called. She's running late. Be here in about an hour." He said as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Oh." She used to call him when she was late and get him to cover for her if Cragen said anything. "Say why? I mean, she's not sick or anything..." He wanted information, but did not want him to know that was what he was doing.

"No...but I would suspect it had something to do with her date last night." He smiled and winked at Elliot before going back to his office.

Fingers of pain instantly gripped his head as it began to pound at the mention of Liv's night. It was way too early in the morning for a headache. This was going to be a rough day. He went to Liv's desk and got the Tylenol bottle out of her drawer and shook four capsules into his hand. He threw them back into his throat and swallowed them without water.

Less than an hour later, Liv arrived for work. Taking off her coat and hanging it on the back of her chair, they glanced and each other, just as she sat down. She gave him a slight nod and wiggled the mouse to get the log-in screen and proceeded to key in her I.D. and password. She did not look at him again nor speak.

Clearing his throat, he had decided to try to talk to her. "You okay? I mean, you're not sick or anything, are you?" He asked hesitantly.

"What?" She looked up at him as though she did not understand him. "Oh...no...I'm fine." She went back to the computer screen, checking figures on the screen against some papers on her desk.

"Good." So much for that little ploy that didn't answer any questions. "Have a doctor appointment or something?" He pretended to be reading the report in his hands.

She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. Really looked at him. Her eyes were almost black instead of their normal chocolate brown. They became darker when she was mad or scared. This morning, he went with mad, though he was not sure why. What could he have done to get her this mad already? He just asked about her well-being. She was angry about something else...but he was sure it had to do with him.

A slight smirk played at the corner of her mouth. "Or something." She replied sarcastically and then went back to her task.

She had seen him as she and Pierce were leaving Flannery's last night. He had turned his back at the bar as they passed, but she saw him. If she were honest, she would admit that she felt him, his presence, long before she actually saw him. Since the beginning, they had always had this heightened sense of the others proximity. She knew he was there to check up on her and see who she was dating and she was angry that he felt like he had the right to do so.

"Oh. Okay." Well, that went over really well, too. What was the smirk about, he wondered? He sighed and went back to work.

Once she realized Elliot was not looking at her anymore, she sneaked a glance his way. When she determined he was engrossed in his paperwork and it was safe to watch him a minute, her gaze locked on him. His profile, with his one visible squinting blue eye, strong jaw and somewhat of a pointed Roman nose, was decidedly handsome. He was wearing a charcoal gray plaid shirt with a maroon colored tie. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and she could see part of the Marine tattoo on his right forearm. She watched as the muscles in his arm flexed and twisted as he wrote in a notepad and she wondered what it would feel like to have those strong arms wrapped around her.

Shaking her head in a vain attempt to rid her mind of the thought and any others along that line, she reminded herself that he was once again off limits to her and she needed to get a life. Which was exactly what she had been attempting to do with Pierce. So, why did Elliot always manage to jam things up between her and any potential suitor? She wondered if it just happened or did he actually plan it? Sometimes she wished she had taken the job offer with the FBI. She stole one more look at him and he chose just that moment to look up at her. For just a second, their eyes met and held a brief conversation. It had been a long time since they 'talked' to each other that way. As she broke the gaze and went back to her work, her heart begin to race at the unspoken words between them.

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A/N: Review are appreciated. Let me know what you think! " ) Bensler