A/N: So instead of working on the chapter fic I already have going, I started a new chapter fic. I'm smart, huh? But I have to go where my creativity takes me. This takes place around the beginning of season 14, after Undercover Blues, but before Her Negotiation meaning there is no William Lewis or the beast.

The beginning is slightly steamy in the area of Bensidy, jsyk. Remember, no flames, please. This story will feature EO and Bensidy, too, and I already have the endgame in mind.

All mistakes are mine. i sorry. Please tell me what you think so i know if i should continue or not. Also thank you for reading, too! :)

Disclaimer: All Hail Lord Dick Wolf.

Till China and Africa Meet

'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street . . ..

-W.H Auden "As I Walked Out One Evening"

After

Grief: /grēf/ noun

1. Deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone's death.

Denial.

Anger.

Bargaining.

Depression.

Acceptance.

He's not even dead yet and all five stages of grief begin to rocket over her in waves. Anger is the strongest, closely followed by denial. She's absolutely livid, so angry that she could spit fire and fight dragons. But she's also in denial because she can't believe it; he's dying, Elliot is dying. He's expelling some of his last breaths as she sits there, fists clenched and eyes closed, mind propelling through years and years of memories.

'Look how well you turned out.'

'You and this job are the only things I have left.'

'I just need some room to disagree with you every now and then.'

'I'm fine – Like hell you are.'

"Liv," he starts, reaching for her elbow and she shrinks from his touch, shaking her head. She sets her eyes straight forward, fixing them to the Crayola masterpiece scrawled across the wall; Eli's doing no doubt.

Two nights ago she'd been in her apartment, wrapped in Brian's arms, enjoying her day off and now here she was, sitting on the couch in her ex-partner's apartment in Brooklyn, listening as he confirmed his daughter's words. He was a walking dead man.

He's dying and she's not certain how to feel. The concept of his mortality hasn't sunk in, and she's not even sure if she forgives him for walking out on her.

"You're a selfish sonofabitch." Olivia hisses and the tears are building in her eyes. "You stay gone for two fucking years and when I finally find a way to breathe without you, you pull this?" She rises to her feet, running a hand through her long brown locks.

"I didn't even want to tell you. I wasn't going to tell you." He defends, chest puffed high in the air.

Eyes narrowing, she rounds on him, jabbing a finger into the plains of his chest.

"So you were going to slip away into the night like Dr. Kevorkian's last experiment or something? Twelve years of my life and all I was going to get was a fucking online obituary?"

"I wasn't going to tell you because I didn't want you to feel like you owed me something – had some obligation to me or some shit like that."

A bitter laugh rips from her throat and she chuckles darkly.

"Owe you? You're a smug bastard, you know. The only thing I owe you is a right hook. You left me. If anything, you owe me."

"I never left you, Liv. I left the job."

"I was the job."

/

She could get used to this, this feeling of utter complacency and bliss. It's 1PM on a Saturday afternoon and instead of chasing down a perp in a pair of obnoxious shoes that hurt her feet, she's here; back against Brian's bare chest, flimsy sheet wrapped around them as she chews on a piece of cold pizza. Behind her, Brian's fingertips graze along her scalp and she moans in enjoyment, causing him to chuckle.

"Either I'm that good, or cold pizza is better than I remember." He jokes playfully, dropping his hands from her hair and trailing them down her bare shoulders, brushing the chestnut locks from her neck as he goes.

Mouth full of ham and pineapple, she speaks, manners aside as the food muffles her voice, "A rittleofboth."

Brian laughs. "Both, huh? Wonder what you'd say if my fingers . . .." he breaks off, fingers dancing down her arms, underneath the barely there sheet, across her stomach, and to the juncture between her legs. Gently he runs a digit across the bundle of nerves and Olivia's hips jolt upward. Her breath hitches in anticipation as he continues his ministrations.

"You're going to make me choke." she grates as one finger slips between her folds; her eyes fall closed and she leans her head back against his chest. She's holding a slice of half eaten pizza in one hand, and the other hand grips the bed sheets. "Fuck . . .."

"I plan on it," is Brian's reply and he nuzzles his chin into the crook of Olivia's neck, lips barely brushing against her pulse point as she all but abandons her pizza.

Between her legs, his fingers work magic while his free hand travels across her stomach in soft, lazy movements.

She chews almost painfully quick, inhaling the last two bites of her pie and then gives herself over completely to the feeling building in the pit of her stomach. She's moaning now, chest heaving and head turning from side to side as her orgasm builds.

"I'm go . . . come, Bri," She moans, both hands now fisting the sheets beneath their bodies and she can feel his erection pressed against lower back as she finds herself sliding down his frame; ready to unravel. Each finger pressed against her, inside her sends her head spinning.

"Then go come," he repeats, eyes clouded, voice deep and in between gasps of air she laughs with him.

The laughter soon turns to indecipherable epithets of pleasure and she's shattering around him, her body shuddering as a lazy smile dances across her countenance. Her heart flutters as he slips his hand out from underneath the sheet and he presses a chaste kiss to her forehead.

"Fuck," Olivia responds, grinning, her lashes heavy as her eyelids flutter to and fro. She only has a few moments to recover, however, before she finds herself flat against the mattress; Brian hovers above her, posed at her entrance.

"Ready?" he asks, a devilish glint in his eyes and all Olivia can do is nod.

Saturdays haven't been this satisfying for her in a while, a long while.

/

They're like two horny teenagers as they feel each other up on her couch. Brian's hand is under her shirt, and her hand is on the button of his trousers as they explore each other's mouths with their tongues. They'd abandoned the bedroom to have some semblance of a movie night on the couch, after going for dinner, but Mr. & Mrs. Smith is long forgotten. Instead Olivia's giggling like a mischievous schoolgirl waiting to be caught snogging on her mother's couch, while Brian works to unhook her bra.

It takes them both a few moments to realize that someone is pounding on Olivia's apartment door, though neither of them breaks apart to answer. When the knocking grows frantic and a young, female voice cries for Olivia, they reluctantly separate. She figures it must be a vic looking for a reassurance about an upcoming trial, so she stands and attempts to gain her composure.

Re-hooking her bra, she straightens her shirt, and wipes at her mouth.

"Just, give me one sec, Bri," she says as she turns on her heels. He nods and waves her off, situating one of her throw pillows in his lap, and attempts to turn his attention back to the film, though he's completely and utterly lost.

Her hand is on the doorknob when the voice yells again, this time for a Liv. Confused, Olivia looks through her peephole, and her brown gems go wide at the sight.

Kathleen Stabler is standing outside of her apartment with a tear streaked face, and wild hair.

As quickly as she can, Olivia throws the door open, and Kathleen rushes in, wrapping her arms around Olivia's middle and burying her face in the older woman's shoulder. Fourteen years in SVU leads Olivia's mind to jump to the worst conclusion first, and she gently grips Kathleen's shoulders, pulling her tight. Sweet nothings and promises of everything will be alright leave Olivia's lips and inside she's already plotting her vengeance against whoever has wronged the young woman in front of her that she's know since Kathleen was ten.

The commotion draws Brian's attention, and he gets to his feet, Olivia hears his footsteps and shakes her head, not wanting to scare Kathleen before she has a chance to tell her story.

In a soothing voice, Olivia speaks, "Kat - Kathleen, honey, you have to tell me what's wrong, love or I can't help . . ."

Kathleen nods in the crook of Olivia's neck, cheek pressed against the bare skin that peeks out from Olivia's V-neck t-shirt. Silently Olivia hopes that Kathleen's on her meds still and that whatever she has to say will make sense.

"Dad's dying." Kathleen whispers, her voice small and child-like.

The words rocket over Olivia in waves and she blinks hard.

"Elliot. . .." She whispers, saying the name she's dared not speak in two years, in her arms Kathleen continues to weep.