Elliot couldn't have said why he was being such a prick to her—he didn't really know himself. It was one of those left over effects of feeling slighted that he couldn't help, something that he would change if he could. As it stood, he couldn't.

Part of him was still off in Dani-land. He had actually liked her, actually connected with her, and found himself wondering at the most inopportune moments if they could have been something together. They were so alike that it was inevitable they would have connected- they shared a basic hate for the perps, and both had a few excessive force complaints in their files. They both saw no point in shrinks, and they were both severely sexually frustrated. When he though of it that way, the two of them connecting had not been a chance encounter- it had been a biological certainty. It was natural that he should miss her, even if he had his "Precious Olivia" back.

No matter how she tried to sugar coat it, Liv was always the one to leave, or suggest that it was a good idea. She would say that she missed him, say that she cared about him, say that it was for the good of the partnership, say it was good for them as people. But when it came down to it, none of those explanations sustained him. She was still always the one to leave, and it left him to wonder if what she was trying to say was that she didn't want to work with him at all anymore. God knew she had dropped some hints over the years.

If you can't trust your partner, Elliot, it's time to get a new one..

I want a new partner.

Had he been blind?

To Olivia's everlasting credit, she was trying like all hell to restore them to their typical banter. He just wasn't feeling particularly receptive to it, and didn't think that he was required to. She always left him. He was entitled to be moody to her occasionally, too. Elliot had no intention of becoming anyone's puppy dog. And with Dani, he didn't have to. He was the one to lead, and he sometimes wondered if maybe leaving this behind and going back to her was the best choice for everyone.

Olivia lingered at his shoulder, and threw out a last ditch attempt to maintain some peace. "You know, we've been partners all these years, and I don't even know your blood type."

He considered a second, before answering in as few words as possible, "A positive."

She looked a bit disheartened, but managed to throw out, "How about that, me too."

For some reason that was comforting, that they were connected on even such a generic level as blood type. And he liked being connected with Olivia. In all their years, as partners, he'd found that it actually had been worth it.

"I'd give you a kidney," he told his feet, and it was true. He might have missed Dani, but Olivia was still the one he'd willingly give his kidney to.

Her pony tail bounced away from him, as she looked up into his face with a humored smile, as if relieved they had finally made contact. "Not if I gave you mine first."

He found himself surprisingly touched at that and he involuntarily, but willingly remembered the times that Olivia had demonstrated she cared about him—and they far outnumbered the times she hadn't.

He wanted you to do it. He wanted you to always remember you didn't take his life because you had to, but because you were angry.

Did you really expect me to? Did you really expect me to cause your death?

I already have a job.

And finally, he remembered the simplest, easiest, most rudimentary thing she had ever said to remind him that she did want to stay.

I work here.

As the elevator doors closed, he hoped that would always remain true.