AN: I've never done this before but I'm going to break one of my own rules and post a story that doesn't yet have a conclusion. But trust me people. It WILL have one. And there are enough chapters already done to cement that. So without further ado, here it is. "The In Betweens".

Olivia's having a good day, really she is. She and Nick closed a long case. She testified in another that's gone to trial and she found some time to update a few cold files. Therapy is going as well as it can be and she's sleeping better. Having someone to come home to, has been a nice departure from her regular routine of taking a shower and crashing on her sofa. But tonight, with Brian working yet another undercover operation for IAB, Olivia's been left to her own devices.

If she eats another box of lo mien she feels like she'll throw up and she's actually in the mood to cook. It's such a rarity that she goes with it, stopping at a local grocer for salmon, mixed veggies and brown rice. And because she's the wine drinker of the house, she's replacing the last of her merlot with a bottle of chardonnay. It seems Brian's favorite wine is beer.

She's moving through the various labels of merlots, pinot noirs, sauvignons and sangrias when she smells a familiar scent or at least she thinks she does. He'd taken to wearing cologne the last few years of their partnership when before, he hadn't bothered. It was a clean, masculine scent and she had immediately given him crap the moment she had smelled it. Elliot had mumbled something about his youngest daughter having gotten it for him for Father's Day and it would be an insult not to wear it.

Olivia suspected it was more the fact that several officers of the female variety complemented him on his cologne. With those dimples and that body women generally took notice, seemingly with disregard to their age or the wedding ring he was wearing. But after the cologne they not only did a double take, they seemed to stand a little bit closer. She found herself doing the same and suspected that that may be the reason for his repeated use. It's not something she consistently entertained but it crept into her mind every now and again.

She literally shakes her head of the thought, grabs a Napa Valley label and heads for the check out. Elliot doesn't take up nearly the amount of space in her head that he used to. No. That real estate has been sequentially replaced by a serial killer about to blow her brains out, a dead hooker in her boss's bed, the subsequent fall out and oh yeah, being physically assaulted, mentally tortured and held hostage by a sadistic serial rapist without anyone, including her boyfriend, taking notice for two days.

It's something else she talks about in therapy when she's not discussing how to kick being burned with cigarettes, keys and coat hangers out of her brain. Or being forced to watch as someone else was brutally sexually assaulted. Olivia can't help that her mind supplied Elliot's face instead of Brian's when she was enduring it all. He had been the one constant in her life for over a decade.

And then he was just…gone.

Olivia's already discussed her abandonment issues with Dr. Lindstrom and since it's been three years, she's mostly passed them where he's concerned. But she has to admit, it still pisses her off from time to time thinking of how he ended their partnership. Twelve years together and she gets an envelope with his replica badge and two words, Semper Fi. Initially it was enough to draw a tear or two because she was just so overjoyed to hear from him. But later she realized just how empty those words felt to her. If he truly would be "always faithful" to their partnership, then why didn't she deserve a phone call, a text, an email, a post card saying "gone fishing"…something? Or perhaps a bit more than a simple note after twelve years?

Ah well. She's wasted enough time ruminating on that, on him.

On the way to the checkout counter she remembers she's out of coffee creamer so she deviates to the dairy section. It's long past the holidays but as she reaches for her old standby of French vanilla, her hand diverts to the Peppermint Mocha and she smiles at the indulgence as she drops it into her basket. Apparently this particular grocer carries the holiday flavors all year round. She'll definitely have to remember that for next time.

"I thought you hated that stuff," says a voice, suddenly to her right.

It can't be.

She won't turn.

It's just her mind playing tricks on her. Perhaps her meds need to be adjusted because, he's…not…there.

He can't be.

"Olivia?"

It sounds like him. She squeezes her eyes shut, counting to ten in her mind before taking a deep, cleansing breath.

Olivia turns to her left, away from the intrusive hallucination and heads for the checkout counter. A cadence of footsteps follows closely behind. It's a rhythm she hasn't heard since…but it can't be.

It's not him. It's not him!

"Liv please."

She freezes where she is. Hearing her name in his voice, smelling his scent, feeling his presence, first in her peripheral vision…then into full view…it's too much.

She needs time to process.

He's just as solid as he always has been in his charcoal suit and black overcoat. His sideburns are now dusted with slight feathers of gray, a few more laugh lines are on his forehead, but essentially he's the same. Dark blue eyes beckon for her attention, flashing sadness and a fear she's rarely seen in them before settling on…relief? Happiness to see her?

Olivia has wondered many times what she'd say to him if ever they crossed paths again. She doubted its likelihood in a city of millions but here he is and, she doesn't have the words. Yet she isn't worried because this is all on him and he looks just as clueless about what to say to her.

He reaches a hand out to touch her shoulder but thinks better of it and sticks them both in his pant pockets.

"How…how are you?" He decides to go with.

She doesn't answer right away, looking at him like she's disappointed that it's the best he could come up with.

"I'm fine Elliot," she answers before starting to push her cart away.

"Liv wait," he says.

"Why?" She tells him curtly. "It's not like you haven't known how to contact me all this time," she continues. "So whatever it is you have to say couldn't possibly be that important."

"I'm sorry," he tries again.

"Yes. You are," she returns before moving past him.

"Liv wait," he repeats, making the mistake of reaching for her arm.

She yanks out of his grasp, pulling away.

"Try that again and I'll forget we're in public," she says.

Elliot holds up both hands in surrender before lowering them. A couple of people have taken notice to their tones of voice and body language. After a few seconds of silence between them, they go back to minding their own business.

"I'm a coward," he begins. "And I realize you owe me absolutely nothing," he adds.

"So far we're in agreement."

He takes a breath, looking down at his shoes before continuing. If he's suffering through this moment it's too damn bad because there's no way in hell she's rescuing him.

"I don't beg for things Olivia," he continues. "But right now, I'm begging, begging for ten minutes of your time to go somewhere, anywhere and just…talk. Please."

She's probably known him better than any other person she's ever met in her life. He hates to ask for anything. So as hesitant as she is, and as much as she'd rather dismiss him the way Elliot relatively dismissed her, there's a still small voice in her head that tells her to give him that ten minutes.

So that's what she decides to do.

Olivia reaches into her purse for one of her latest business cards and a pen. She scrawls her new address on the back and holds it out to him.

"I'll meet you there in twenty minutes," she says.

Elliot's careful not to brush his fingertips against hers as he accepts it.

"Thank you," he replies in a near whisper.

"Just…don't make me regret it."

He nods his understanding, takes his meager purchases and heads for the express lane. Olivia lingers as she exits the store. Even though its cold out and she'd usually take a taxi, she finds that she needs that three blocks of crisp chill air to clear her head.

Her mind is racing with so many questions that she has a slight headache by the time she makes it home. Elliot must have driven because though he'd only left a few minutes ahead of her, the same wind-bitten redness of her face isn't present in his. He isn't wearing gloves, his scarf is hanging out of his coat pocket and whatever purchases he made aren't with him.

He's leaning against the wall with his legs crossed at the ankles, head down, and seemingly lost in thought. Good, she thinks. Because he'd better have come up with a damn good reason for interrupting the normalcy she had to find again after what she's been put through lately. It hasn't been easy but Olivia believes she's found some balance, so heaven help him if he thinks he's gonna screw that up.

Elliot looks up as he sees her walking down the hall. When she's close enough, Olivia doesn't stop him from reaching for and holding some of her bags as she opens the door. She directs him to drop her purchases on the kitchen counter while she sheds her coat to put inside a nearby closet before following him.

"You moved," he says, stating the obvious.

"Yeah," she responds, not giving him anything more.

"Do you need any help?" He asks, watching as she begins putting away the groceries.

"No," she tells him. "Why don't you have a seat out there and I'll be done in a minute."

He gives her a short nod before turning and taking the few steps to the chair adjacent to the sofa. Elliot doesn't bother removing his overcoat. She's giving him the ten minutes he begged for and said nothing of making himself comfortable in the meantime. He doesn't blame her for her aloofness. He knows he'd be just as pissed if the tables were turned. Olivia had the excuse of being undercover and even then she tried to talk to him but he'd missed her by seconds. And though it felt longer, she was only gone for a matter of weeks. Elliot's been incommunicado for three years.

Three years.

He feels it was fate that he saw her today. Maybe, just maybe, he'll be able to convince Olivia to allow him back into her life. Elliot knows she's capable of great patience and understanding. But he's also well aware of the fact that she doesn't usually give people a second chance to hurt her.

As Elliot watches her put the final item away, he braces himself and tries to gather his thoughts and find the right words that'll hopefully persuade her to give him one of those rare second chances. When she enters the living room, she sits on the sofa as far away from him as she can get. There's no offer of a drink, no chit-chat, no asking about his kids. Those are things two friends would do and she's made it crystal clear that it's a title he no longer holds. She sits comfortably against the back sofa cushions, hands clasped in front of her, looking at her watch and says, "I'm listening."

Just like that.

"I've learned…that my usual method for these kinds of conversations is to say as little as possible and hope the other person figures out what I mean," he begins. "But that hasn't worked, not to mention you deserve more than that…you deserve the truth."

The only response she gives is more silence and a simple nodding of her head.

"And the truth is, I knew I should've talked to you before handing in my papers," he admits. "I didn't because I knew how easy it would've been for you to convince me to stay."

"So you ignored me instead," she says, finally speaking, challenging him to say otherwise.

"Yes," he tells her. "And I can't apologize enough for that," he adds. "I couldn't get that girl outta my head, my career was over and with that, a job that gave me purpose and a second family that made it all bearable."

"And that's how you treat family?" She asks, bringing her anger boiling to the surface again.

"No," he asserts. "God no Liv," he tells her. "But whatever angry, self-destructive behavior you witnessed the first time I thought I lost my family, imagine that ten times worse and turned inward," he explains. "I wasn't...in a good place and I couldn't let you see me like that."

"Like what exactly?" She says, no longer able to sit. "Drinking, yelling, being violent," she continues, as she paces the small area. "Because it's not like I have any experience with that," she tells him, alluding to her upbringing with an alcoholic mother. "Right?"

"I know you do," he responds. "Which is why I wasn't gonna to put you through it again," he explains. "I drank, I alienated my kids and after six months of putting up with my shit, Kathy gave me the ultimatum of getting help or getting out."

Olivia rubs her hand against her forehead, takes a breath and returns to the sofa visibly more calm. She hadn't realized how much he'd gone through since his forced retirement. She'd just believed, hoped that he and his family got their happily ever after.

"So, I started seeing someone three days a week…for a whole year," he continues. "He said the anger, the drinking, the insomnia and barely eating was a form of depression…something I've never dealt with before."

"I'm sorry you went through that," she offers.

"Don't apologize, Liv," he says, before the words have barely fallen from her lips. "I'm the one that owes an apology," he contends. "There were so many times I picked up the phone to call and I was just too much of a coward to actually dial your number," he confesses. "After so long I just figured you probably wouldn't answer anyway," he tells her. "I figured you just…hate me for how I decided things without your input."

Olivia exhales slowly, nodding her head in the process.

"Hate?" She asks, her voice emotional and raspy. "Yes."

Elliot's eyes fall away from hers, focusing instead on his shoes.

"I hated that I punished my new partner because he wasn't you," she begins. "I hated the disappointment I felt when he didn't do something like you would have or say something quite the right way."

He simply sits there and lets her go on, believing himself to be deserving of every terse word.

"I hated looking up to find his face sitting across from me instead of yours, I hated his walk because his steps didn't match mine," she adds, getting up again.

"I hate that I can see us in the two new detectives and all I wanna do is warn them," she continues, pacing. "Warn them that they shouldn't get too close, that they shouldn't let each other in, that sooner or later they're gonna hurt one another."

"Liv…

"No!" She yells. "You had your ten minutes so your damn well gonna give me mine!"

He sees the fire in her eyes, the way her breathing has picked up and knows how much she means it and how badly she needs to say everything he prevented her from getting off her chest with his unexpected exit.

He nods, she continues.

"I hate," she begins again, marginally calmer. "That you let me know what it's like to be so connected to a person that you can anticipate their every move and know what they're thinking," she goes on. "And I hate that you reminded me that despite the ugliness that brought me into this world…that it wasn't inside of me," she says, in a voice that cracks with emotion.

And look how great you turned out.

Elliot is up then, approaching her. He never could handle her upset, her tears. But she stops him, putting both hands up in front of her and effectively halting his forward progress.

"Calvin was taken away from me, I mourned the losses of Sister Peg and Sonja," she says, her voice breaking. "So I hated having to mourn the loss of our part…partnership in the same damn year."

She lowers her hands, attempting to collect herself. Her fists are balled up at her sides but the rising and falling of her chest is still visible.

"I hate that you told me you were my partner for better or worse but when the worse came…when the shit truly hit the fan, you proved yourself to be like everyone else in my life has been…temporary."

She angrily swipes at her tears, pissed that he's the reason she's shed more.

"And you know what the kicker is?" She asks, rhetorically. "Despite all those things I hated, I still can't bring myself to hate you Elliot."

He approaches her again, thinking it's safe to reach for her. Connecting with a right cross to his jaw, nearly breaking her hand in the process, she happily proves him wrong.

Elliot doesn't fall but her blow is enough to make him stumble and leave him clutching his face in pain.

"Son of a bitch," he says, gingerly opening and closing his mouth, rubbing his jaw.

She's trying to shake the ache from her hand as she heads to the kitchen for some ice. He watches, still dazed as she retrieves a dish towel from a kitchen drawer before gathering ice from the in-door refrigerator dispenser. Olivia approaches him, pulls his hand away from his face and shoves the rag of ice into it before returning to the kitchen.

"If you're expecting an apology…

"I don't," he interrupts. Then, "I think you loosened a filling," a few seconds later.

"Good," she tells him.

What's good he thinks, is that she hasn't kicked him out yet. His ten minutes has long since been up, she's yelled at him, hit him even but still she hasn't shown him the door. Elliot eyes her wearily as she opens her wine, pulling out a single glass.

"Olivia," he says, causing her to pause just before her lips touch the rim.

When she places the glass down again he holds her attention, acknowledging how he's hurt her and how bad he feels for it with just the eye contact. It seems a bit of their connection is still there. Elliot cautiously takes his coat off, waiting for the moment she'll stop him, praying it won't come.

Amazingly to them both, it does not.

Olivia turns her back to him, leaning against the counter. Picking up her drink again with her left hand she takes a sip, hoping it'll help her regain some semblance of control before she rests it on the counter again. She hates being emotional, especially in front of Elliot.

Unsure of where they stand he continues in toeing the water, walking towards her and into the small space of the kitchen. Noticing the redness that's already tinting her knuckles, he knows that swelling and pain won't be too far behind.

Her right hand rests against the counter. Elliot cautiously picks it up, gently takes it in his own and applies the ice filled towel. His focus is on her hand, blotting at the skin so as not to leave the cold in one spot for too long.

"It's gonna swell if you don't ice it right away," he manages.

He knows it's going to cost him something to look into her face. But whatever pain is there is something he caused. And though he doesn't know what kind of penance must be done for alienating your best friend for three years, he'll happily do it if it means her forgiveness.

When Elliot raises his eyes to hers, he sees that while some of the anger is still present, it's currently being overshadowed by the hurt. As one last tear manages to slip past her normally stoic defenses, he abandons the towel on the counter and takes a chance by reaching for her again.

This time he isn't met with a fist. Olivia hesitates to return the embrace for a few seconds but ultimately gives in and returns the hug.

"I'm sorry Liv," he whispers, uncharacteristically. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…," he continues, holding tighter then tighter still.

The hold onto each other for long moments and by the time they decide to let go, Elliot's eyes are red-rimmed from shedding his own tears.

"What can I do?" He asks, swiping away the moisture from his face.

She exhales, turning away from him to rest both hands against the counter. What can he do to make up for betraying her trust? Hurting her? Ignoring her? For being aware of all the people she lost before he left and adding to that by severing all ties to her when she needed him the most? Olivia has no idea how to answer those questions.

"I don't…I don't know that there's anything-

"Then," he interrupts, not wanting to hear her rejection. "For tonight, can we please just talk…like we used to?" He asks, hopefully.

Olivia considers this for a few moments, causing Elliot to be simultaneously fearful and nervous. When she finally, blissfully nods her head, needless to say, he's very relieved. "I was gonna make dinner," she says without meeting his eyes. He notices her flexing her right hand again. "I think I have enough for two."

"Why don't you let me?"

"Let you what?" She asks, turning to remove food from the refrigerator.

"Cook," he answers. "I've taken some classes," he reveals, looking over what she's taken out. "If you just tell me where everything is, I'll get started."

After she explains things, Olivia takes a seat at the counter as he preheats the oven, and gathers spices and seasonings.

"You really look like you know what you're doing," she comments, using the same towel full of ice she'd given him to sooth her aching hand.

"I do," he tells her.

Olivia watches him for a few minutes longer to make sure he has everything he needs before excusing herself to take a shower and change. After closing her bedroom door behind herself, she leans against it, taking her face in her hands.

She's processing again because she can't believe that Elliot's actually there, that she was able to finally release all she'd been holding onto for so long. After he'd left without a word to her, Olivia had taken all her anger and frustration out of anyone in her path.

His abrupt departure had her questioning herself as a cop, as a victim's advocate and how he could've shared twelve years with her and yet was still able to cut off all ties as if they'd meant nothing to one another, like they hadn't gone through hellfire together.

The last hour has been very cathartic for Olivia. She can barely fathom that she's actually punched him but he damn well deserved it. She knows how sorry he is and understands his reasoning, but it doesn't mean he hadn't hurt her terribly and she feels she successfully conveyed that point with her fist. It still smarts by the way. Damn him and his rock-hard head.

In the kitchen Elliot's turned off the oven, opting instead to grill some chicken and vegetables for stir-fry. It's the last recipe he prepared in the class he took with his first born. Maureen apparently hadn't been paying attention to Kathy growing up so she felt like she could use some tips.

He hopes his former partner likes his newly learned culinary skills. It's the least he can do to make up for…well…he can't really make up for the pain he saw in her eyes just minutes ago. But he'll do whatever it takes to try. And even if he never sees her again past tonight, he can say that he made the effort.

The way she behaved at the grocery store, Elliot knew she would have hit him then if it weren't for the fact that they were in public. He had never seen her that angry, or at least not directed at him, not in the years before he left. Then again, he'd never hurt her to this degree. He feels like offering up the other side of his face to punch.

"Something smells good," Olivia comments as she returns to her spot on the kitchen stool. Knowing she's in for the night, she opted for a long V-neck t-shirt and some leggings in bare feet.

"Let's hope it tastes the same."

Elliot prepares a plate and slides it in front of her. He tops off her chardonnay, putting it next to her food. He repeats the same for himself but opts for a beer before sitting on the adjacent stool.

"How's it taste?" He asks, after watching her take the first bite.

"It's good," she says.

"Thanks," he tells her. "When did you switch to Blue Moon?" He asks, sipping on the orange flavored beer. "That tastes…weird."

"It's uh, not mine," she tells him. "It's Brian's."

"Oh, right."

"What's that mean?" She asks, defensively.

"I ran into Munch a couple of months ago," he begins. "I'm sorry, special investigator for the D.A.'s office Munch," he corrects, getting a slight grin from her. "He uh…filled me in on some things."

He didn't bother to mention that while he'd casually asked about Fin and Cragen, his sole focus was on Olivia and her well-being after the nightmare she was put through by William Lewis. Elliot's relief at hearing that she was getting on okay was immeasurable. If anything had happened to her, he would've blamed himself until the grave.

"And what kinds of things has our incomparably nosey friend filled you in on?" She asks, shifting uncomfortably.

"He just said you've uh…been with Cassidy for over a year, that Cragen's on a six month cruise with his lady friend until his retirement kicks in and that you are now Sergeant Benson," he tells her. "Congrats by the way."

"Thanks," she says. "Now what are you leaving out?"

Elliot rests his forearm on the counter, pushing the food around on his plate instead of actually bringing the fork to his mouth. He averts his eyes, knowing for the second time in a couple of hours, they're about to have an unpleasant conversation.

"He said…the Lewis case…that it was really bad," he begins. "Assured me that you were okay but," he stumbles.

"But what Elliot?" She asks, impatiently.

"That you aren't the same," he answers, finally meeting her eyes.

"Who would be?" She asks incredulously. "But the department shrink cleared me and I'm still seeing my own, so you can both stop worrying."

"Right, okay," he tells her, taking a sip of his weird beer. "It's just Munch being Munch I guess."

Olivia eyes him sideways before continuing with her meal. She knows there's more he hasn't told her, but she'll let him get comfortable and after they've eaten she'll spring it on him. Elliot may have retired but she's still a great interrogator. So, she goes with her old standby of asking about his family.

"How're the kids?" She asks, nonchalantly.

Elliot smiles immediately, he can't help himself.

"They're good," he begins. "Kathleen's in law school, the twins are undergrad at NYU…

"No Marines for Dickie, I mean Rick?" She interrupts.

"No," he says, smiling. "Thank God he came to his senses about that," he says, resuming his meal. "I think his latest major is journalism. Maureen is working on her PhD in Psychology and Eli's conquering first grade."

"That's good Elliot," she tells him. "I'm glad everyone's okay."

"Yeah," he says, his smile changing to a somber grin.

And there it is again, that something Olivia knows he's leaving out.

"That wasn't bad," she says, sipping the last of her wine before pouring another glass.

"Thanks," he tells her, getting up to load the dishwasher with their plates and silverware. She tells him where the detergent is and he hits the start button.

Olivia picks up her glass, carrying it into the living room. Cassidy's beer having grown on him, he decides to take it with him when he joins her. She sits on the sofa and Elliot feels comfortable enough to join her. He sat on her left as they ate so she hadn't noticed then. And before, when they were hugging it out in her kitchen, she was in no shape to pay attention. But now, now she's noticed.

"Elliot," she begins. "Where's your ring?"

AN: Come on, are you seriously going to read all that and not let me know how you feel about it in a review? I don't ask for them because I'm a review junkie…okay…not solely for that reason. But I've honestly used them in the past to improve my writing, so if you have suggestions or even gripes, feel free to review this thing.