Disclaimer: Not mine, but I'm sure you all know this.

I made a few changes and reposted this. So, enjoy. R&R and... yeah.

Elliot:

I can not tell you what the hell I was thinking, and I'm guessing the reasoning behind this is because I wasn't fucking thinking at all. At least not with the head on my shoulders, if you know what I mean. I can't believe I just said that. Thought that. Whatever. It had been a rough week, and though that is no excuse, it's all the explanation I can give. The only excuse I have.

We had just tied up a case that we'd been working on for nearly 3 months. Some sick psycho bastard had been plucking little girls off the subway, and the LIRR, raping them, torturing them and leaving them to die all over the city. Huang developed us a profile and eventually we had ourselves a pretty good suspect, but not enough evidence to arrest him according to Alex Cabot's, our ADA's boss. It took three more murders, before he was actually caught in the act of raping an 11 year old girl behind an abandoned warehouse. We were called in, and there was an hour long standoff as he held her hostage. Then the perp put a bullet in the little girls head before turning his gun on himself. I know we can't win them all, but it doesn't ease the guilt of not being able to prevent things like that when it's your job.

Then as if working the case wasn't hard enough, Kathy and I were at each others throats constantly over my hours and my job and my lack of communication. How much mayo she put on my sandwich. Deleting her episode of Oprah to TiVo the Yankee's game. Who was hogging the blanket at night. She accused me of everything from having an affair, to having a midlife crisis, and caring enough about my family. There were truths, and there were low blows until the kicker came. She told me that she thought maybe we should separate for a while until I learned how to keep my priorities straight.

My fucking priorities straight?! My priorities are to provide for my family and keep them safe which I thought I was doing a pretty damn good job of, but how could I explain that to her so that she'd actually understand? Explain that every little body I find discarded in alleys and dumpsters, every little boy or girl kidnapped or abused or abandoned… I see my kids faces and it makes it impossible to walk away from this job. I tried to explain to her that I was working my ass off for my family, but she wasn't hearing it. Looking back I realize Kathy had always been that way. Everything has to revolve around her, or she feels like you just don't care enough about her. So I end of feeling guilty for being pissed, or doubting myself, wondering if the things she says are true. So when she told me we should separate, I temporarily lost my sanity. But despite all of this, nothing, and I mean nothing justifies my actions on that night.

It was 11pm when I finished at the precinct, and I wasn't ready to go back to the hotel (I'd moved out of the house the day before) and decided to have a beer at a pub not far from where I was staying. One beer turned into 7, 3 bourbons, and 2 shots of Patron. The Patron shots, I took with 'her'. She walked into the pub around midnight, and I swear to you the room got so quiet you could hear a pin drop, but she seemed oblivious to the attention because she walked straight to the bar, sat, and ordered a beer. I found myself, with every other male in the pub, staring.

The woman was fucking gorgeous. Her brown hair was streaked with bits of blonde and was cropped to hang just above her shoulders. She was slender with legs that seemed to stretch from New York to Miami, but what got me was her eyes. I was closest to her, so she must have felt me staring because she looked over. Her eyes, God help me, I got lost in the. Chocolate brown, and so expressive. I wanted her right then and there, and if Satan himself walked into that damn pub, I would have sold my soul to him in a heartbeat just to have her. Yeah, good 'ole Catholic Elliot Stabler had stepped out for the evening, along with his common sense.

Anyway she gave me a little smile, and that broke the ice. We started chatting, and about 2 hours later we were talking like old friends instead of strangers who'd just met in a bar. We joked around a bit, before each of us told the other why they were out alone having drinks at the bar alone. I told her about Kathy and our issues, and she listened sympathetically. She told me about her boyfriend she'd just broken up with because it turned out that the bastard had been married and it was eating her up, so I promised to go find the bastard and kick his ass. Yeah, we did that whole misery loves company bit, and before I knew it we were stumbling through the door to my hotel room, lips locked, fighting to remove each others clothing without breaking contact.

It was Elliot that suggested they leave the pub. "Where are we going?" Olivia asked.

"My hotel is just down the street." he wasn't asking her if she wanted to come. He was telling her that's where they were going, and she followed him without question.

They held hands all the way there, but it was when they made it into the elevator that Elliot pushed her against the wall and attacked her mouth with his own. They stumbled blindly down the hall when they reached his floor, he was unbuttoning her pants, she his shirt and he fumbled clumsily with the key card when they made it to his room. He had her pants undone and was pushing her top up when she mumbled "We can't do this right here, cameras" against his lips. He opened his eyes to find out where exactly to slide the key in, but he never let her go.

Every touch, every kiss, every word sent bolts of passion throughout their bodies, and they both decided without words that, at least for the night they were one. The first time he entered her body that night, was nothing but pure Heaven. Elliot had to struggle to keep himself from shouting 'I love you' over and over again, and Olivia used every ounce of self control that she had so that she wouldn't give in and beg him to never leave.

The night was amazing, but we both knew nothing could come of it. She decided that we shouldn't exchange names or numbers, to just enjoy the moment. When she said it, there was a pained look in her eyes that told me it wasn't what she wanted. I felt the same way, and I had no idea why, but I knew as well as she did that it was for the best. But for that night we could pretend, and we did. She wasn't some woman I'd picked up in a bar. For that moment she was… she was perfect, you know? She was love… she was… home.

I pushed back the thoughts I had about never seeing her again as we lay in the bed, a tangle of limbs, stealing kisses between our lovemaking sessions. Yeah, it wasn't sex, I could never think of it as just sex because the intimacy was deeper than physical.

When I woke up the next morning, she was gone. The only thing left behind was a message scrawled on the hotel stationary. 'I wish it could have been more.' Yeah, so did I.