AUTHOR NOTES: This idea leapt into my brain one day and wouldn't quit yammering until I committed it to paper. Warning: there be a crossover in here, but I can't say any more without ruining it. Big thanks to KatRose, who beta'ed this fic, and for her patience with a new author! And, thanks to KatRose, Duck, SidleSmile, Giddy and all the other fantastic authors whose work here inspired me to give writing a try.

AUTHOR NOTE 2: This fic was originally published under my other pen name, Rorybick, on the svufiction-dot-com site on July 1, 2004.

DISCLAIMER: I only wish I owned the denizens of the 1-6. Ah the fun I'd have with Elliot and the boys. sigh Alas, they belong to Mr. Wolf and his compadres. Please don't sue me for playing with them.

PROLOGUE

"Domestic dispute in progress: 2015 King Street, Apartment..." The crackling voice of the dispatcher cut off in a blast of static, but the cops knew the address. It was a weekly call from the neighbors. The mean drunk in 4-C regularly used his family as a punching bag, but the frightened wife never pressed charges. It was an all-too-typical scene in the city.

The patrol car pulled up to number 2015 with lights flashing and the cops headed into the building. As they reached the front door, a shot rang out. The partners barely glanced at one another before sprinting up the stairs to 4-C. The shooting continued. Three. Four. Five. Six shots, and then silence. As they came to a stop outside the apartment, the cops had their guns at the ready, but nothing could prepare them for what they found inside.

The apartment was trashed. Dishes and glasses were shattered, lamps were knocked over; It was a real mess. A soft, yet persistent, clicking drew them into what passed for a master bedroom in the tiny apartment. As they entered the room, they took note of the woman lying on the bed. She was naked, covered in blood and obviously dead. She had been beaten severely and bled from numerous stab wounds. It was bad, but not the worst thing in the room.

The man was half on the bed, half collapsed to the floor. His pants were down and a bloody knife was clutched in his right hand. It was the mean drunk – not that he was easily identifiable with half of his head blown away. The cops stopped and stared in horror as they finally absorbed the sight before them. A mother raped and killed, a brutal father stopped in the act, and two small boys in the midst of the madness.

It was like looking at a mirror. A matched pair of thin, pale bodies clad in boxer shorts and white tee shirts, now splattered with blood. They had sandy hair, not quite blond or brown, but the indefinable shade that only children under the age of 8 can achieve. Their big blue eyes filled bruised faces, like a macabre parody of a cutesy cartoon. Those eyes... That's where the mirror shifted, changed. One set of blue eyes was full of fear and pain, brimming with tears and near-hysteria. The other eyes were like ice: no sign of pain or life, just a dead hatred that was shocking in the tiny face. The cold gaze remained on his father as he continued pulling the trigger of the gun. Click. Click. Click. Click.

CHAPTER 1

STABLER RESIDENCE
MONDAY, JUNE 10TH
EARLY MORNING

Screaming... blood... fear... With a start, Detective Elliot Stabler sat up in bed, his sheets soaked in a cold sweat. 4:30 a.m. "Why the hell'd I pick SVU? I coulda been a traffic cop." He sighed and rolled out of bed. "No sense trying to get back to sleep now, I might as well get some coffee." He stumbled down the hall to the apartment's cramped kitchen and started the coffeemaker before collapsing into a chair at the tiny dinette table. Things weren't going so well since the separation. It was eight months since Kathy left him for another man – a doctor, no less. Eight months in this rat-hole of an apartment, seeing his kids every other weekend if his schedule permitted. Eight months of arguments and legal wrangling as the Separation Agreement took force. Eight months of solitude and his nightmares kept getting worse.

"At least I've still got work." Despite the oppressive inhumanity of the crimes that crossed his desk day in and day out, Elliot found solace in the work: the methodical investigating, the unchanging routines of the law and, of course, the camaraderie of his fellow officers. He didn't know what he would do without them. Fin and Munch, with their tough-guy exteriors and snarky banter, hiding their true emotions but always available to him in times of need. They were his coworkers, his friends, his brothers. Captain Cragen, stalwart and steady, a hard-ass with a heart of gold and as much of a father figure to Elliot as Jack Stabler ever was. And then there was Olivia.

God, Olivia. Elliot closed his eyes and thanked the heavens that Olivia Benson was in his life. Since the first day she walked into the 1-6, he knew she was special. Tough but fragile, she faced the city's worst with him and survived. On case after case, he watched her heart break in empathy for the vics, but she always held it together and fought that much harder for justice. She was his partner, his best friend, his reason to go to work each day. She inspired him. Sighing, he thought, "I've got to get out of this place." He threw on his sweats and headed out for an early-morning run until it was a reasonable hour to show up at the station.

16TH PRECINCT
6:45 A.M.

"Elliot? Are you okay?" Captain Cragen's quiet baritone cut into Elliot's brooding. "You look like hell, and this is the fifth time this month you've been first in. Are you even going home at night?"

"Yeah, Cap'n. I am. I just haven't been sleeping really well. No biggie."

"Normally, I trust your judgment, El, but I'm worried about you. If you need some time off..." he trailed off.

"No! I can handle it. It's not a problem."

Cragen sighed. Elliot Stabler was one of his best cops, but he had a dark streak that had gotten much worse since Kathy left him. Oh, who was he kidding? There wasn't one cop in the unit who wasn't damaged in some way, himself included. It's what made them so successful at solving the city's worst crimes but it made his job as captain that much harder. He had to constantly monitor his team to make sure none of them went over the edge. Looked like Elliot would be under the microscope for a while. "All right, Elliot. Just remember, my door's always open and my offer stands."

"Thanks, Cap. I'll be fine."

7:00 P.M.

"That's it for tonight. I can't look at this paperwork one more minute," Olivia said, shoving her chair back from the desk. She stood and stretched. "Elliot, you coming?"

"Nah. I'm going to finish the Docherty file, maybe get a jump on the files for that peeper on the east side."

Olivia frowned at him. "No way, buddy. You're done. Look, I know things have been tough for you this year, but you can't keep this up. I've been watching you try to escape your problems in case files and paperwork and it isn't working. You are the walking dead, El. You aren't taking care of yourself and you sure as hell aren't helping me!"

"What! Olivia..."

She walked over and sat on the edge of his desk. "Elliot, listen to me. I need my partner back. Whatever is wrong with you is affecting our work. You won't talk to me. I have to sit here every day and watch you suffer and I can't do a thing about it! I won't have it." She paused, and then cupped his chin and lifted his face so their eyes met. "I need you to be 100. I need to know that you've got my back; that you are there for me. And I need you to let me be there for you, too. So close the damn file and come on. We're going back to my place. You WILL have a good dinner and you WILL have a restful evening away from the station. Understand?" She stood, hands on her hips and tried to give him her fiercest glare.

"Yes, Mom," Elliot replied, getting up and closing the files spread across his desk. "You know, I'd be more afraid of you if I believed that glare."

He smirked at her with a hint of merriment in his blue eyes, she noted with a grin. "Shut up, Stabler. Let's go."

BENSON RESIDENCE
7:30 P.M.

Olivia sat across the table from Elliot, watching him as he finished his dinner. "Well?"

He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth "Well, what? It's pretty good. I didn't know you cooked this well."

"It's only spaghetti, but that's not what I meant. I meant, 'well, when are you going to talk to me?'"

Elliot sighed and set his fork down. He knew when he agreed to have dinner that it was only a matter of time until she'd start the interrogation. "Liv, I know I haven't been at the top of my game and I've been shutting you out. I'm sorry. It's been a bigger adjustment than I thought it would be, you know? I haven't been truly alone in over 20 years, between Kathy and the kids. I always shielded them from my work, but I never realized what a comfort it was just having them there. I guess I'm just not dealing really well with coming home to an empty apartment every night. And with the kids on vacation with Kathy this month, I don't even have every other weekend to look forward to. Besides, I...," he paused, looked away from her and ran his hand through his hair self-consciously. "I've never told anyone this, but I have nightmares, bad ones. Since the separation, they've gotten worse. I guess the old subconscious realizes that I won't worry anyone when I wake up screaming these days," he finished with a short, bitter laugh. "So, I'm just not sleeping well."

"Not sleeping well? Elliot, it sounds like you aren't sleeping at all. I know it's rough, but I am here for you, okay? You can talk to me any time, day or night. You know that. Just call me. I'll be here." She got up and began to clear the table. "It's obvious that spending all that time alone at your place is not good for you, so here's the deal. I know what it's like to be lonely. In our line of work, solitude is bad. It gives your brain too long to think about what we see each day. Frankly, neither one of us needs that." She turned back to him with a wry grin. "So, from now on, partner, we hang out. Do dinner. Spend quality time with each other and the guys, even if I have to drag you out by your ears. I'm not going to let you wallow any longer and I'm not going to let you shut me out. Got it?"

Elliot felt relieved. He hated showing his weaknesses to Olivia but she didn't see the nightmares that way. She accepted them as normal and a part of him. He smiled, "Got it. No wallowing allowed."

"Good. Tomorrow night, we do dinner at your place... and maybe rent a DVD or something. Now get your lazy butt over here and wash the dishes. I did all the cooking." She grinned at him and he returned the grin. Maybe things would get better.