Hey guys!

I haven't written an EO one-shot in ages, so here I am with a new one. This one is set in current day. Olivia finds herself thinking about Elliot after she tells Sonny that she knows more than anyone what it's like to get close with someone you work with. She thinks about the fact that she hasn't said her former partner's name in over seven years, and though she rarely thinks of him anymore, on this night, she finds herself missing him more than ever.

Enjoy xoxo

Remembering Him [ONESHOT]

She hadn't said his name in over seven years, since the day before she found out he put his papers in. The last time she said his name, it was to Fin while they were in a cop bar;

'Talked to Elliot?'

Elliot.

It's been over seven years since she last laid eyes on him. She thinks of him less these days; her focus is more on trying to keep her short-staffed squad afloat, trying to keep the bosses of One Police Plaza off her back, and trying to be a good mother to her six-year-old son. But when she does think of him, she no longer feels much, and she doesn't know whether that's good or bad. The slightest aspect of a case can transport her to thirteen years' worth of memories with that blue-eyed hot head, walking the streets together and busting every perp they could. Sometimes it's the tiniest detail in a case, other times it's the behavior of her blonde-haired detective that reminds her of a younger version of herself mixed with aspects of him.

But this time, she thought of him when looking into the eyes of her younger detective, Sonny Carisi. She saw something in his eyes when he'd been speaking about her other detective – and his partner – Amanda Rollins. He'd left Amanda at the hospital and mentioned that the father of her baby had showed up to be with her. Seeing the slightly deflated look on the face of her young detective, Olivia rounded the corner and gave him a sympathetic smile;

"You know, Carisi; I know better than anyone how easy it is to get close with somebody that you're working with."

And now, as she sits in dimly lit confines of her living room after her son has gone to bed and the tv has shut off and the sounds of the city are faint, that statement is replaying in her head like a loop.

She definitely knew the feeling.

She thinks back to the golden days – thirteen years of ups and downs, the knock down drag out fights followed by a silent truce of Chinese and coffee from the cart. She thinks back to that day in May of nineteen ninety-eight, when she first walked into the one-six precinct, baby faced and fresh out of the fifty-fifth precinct from the Bronx. She walked in eager to start her reassignment to the sex crimes unit of Manhattan, to get justice for people whom had experienced the worst of the worst. When Cragen had introduced them, their eyes locked and they shook hands, she had felt something and was sure he felt it too. They were destined for greatness, but she never would have imagined the twists and turns and the way they would become so intertwined. They had been joined at the hip and so unbelievably close.

So many knock downs and drag outs and make ups. Her mind flashes to arguments over cases, them screaming at each other, not talking for an hour or two, then coming together again and finally calling a truce with food. She visibly shudders as she remembers Gitano and the monumental impact that incident had on their partnership – Computer Crimes, Oregon, Dani Beck, awkwardness and snide comments, making up after a talk on the front stoop of his building. She sighs at the memories of him hugging her after she saved the lives of his wife and youngest child, of him coming to look after her when she was sick, of them hugging after the incident where Sonya passed away.

She remembers how easily his name would tumble off her lips; "El." … "Elliot."

She remembers the shooting. Jenna. A single shot. Jenna falling dead to the floor. He only meant to disarm and disable her; he never would have intentionally killed her – Olivia knew that, everyone knew that.

She remembers the look of horror in his eyes and the blood on his hands.

She remembers him helping her wash the blood off her hands then hugging her like his life depended on it.

She remembers her calls going unreturned for days which turned into weeks which turned into months.

She remembers defending him while in what was then Cragen's office;

"That was a good shooting Captain, Elliot was cleared."

"You're just gonna give him up? He's the sacrificial lamb?"

"He'll tell them to go to hell!"

She knew her partner; he would have never agreed to psych evals and anger management.

She remembers that day in the cop bar when she had only just left another voicemail. Fin had come in along with Munch and Amanda, Alex had later joined them. She had turned to Fin, and that was the final time she said his name;

"You talked to Elliot?"

She hasn't said his name since, because it was only a day later when her Captain uttered the words that broke her heart;

"Elliot put his papers in."

It's funny; she thinks of him less these days and doesn't feel much, only thinks of him when something reminds her of their partnership, yet at this moment with memories playing on a loop in her head, it hurt to even think about his name let alone utter it out loud.

At this moment in time, she's so intently focused on the thoughts of him. Tonight, she misses him. Tonight, she's thinking of him a lot and she finds herself wishing he was there, wishing he could have shared so many of these magical moments with her. Promotions and motherhood and taking over the unit that was like home to her; he would have been so fucking happy for her. He always would admit – after an argument of course – that she was strong and resilient, and that she had leadership potential.

"I made it El, I made it." She says in her head.

She puts the glass down onto the table and gets up from the sofa, then makes her way over to the book shelf where the photo album is. It's a small photo album; contains pictures of her and the squad over the years, from the beginning to a recent one from a few weeks ago when they were at an NYPD event. She flicks through some of the older ones; ones that contain photos of him. As she's flicking, one slips from the book and slides across the floor. She picks up the polaroid and flips it over, and she simply freezes for a moment as her eyes gaze at the picture between her fingers.

A photo of just her and Elliot; she's in a beautiful, strapless floor length shimmering pale blue gown with strappy black heels, her brunette bob is curly and her make up his perfect; smoky eye makeup to bring out her eyes and nude colored lipstick. He's standing with her in a crisp black suit with a pale blue shirt and black tie, and shiny black shoes. He's got his arm around her shoulders and she's leaning into him with her arm around his waist. She looks at the writing on the bottom of the photo; NYPD Foundation Gala – 1999.

This was taken one year after becoming partners. They're smiling together, their eyes are bright and full of wonder. They're best friends in this photo; a bond tighter than glue, one that despite being bent to its fullest extent, never actually broke until that fateful day in May of 2011.

She misses her best friend. Wherever he is - whether he's still in the city or in another state or even in another country - she just hopes that he's happy and enjoying retirement.

But she just misses him so fucking much.

She drops to her knees beside the book shelf and with the photo in her hand, she utters his name out loud for the first time in so long;

"Elliot."

And then, she cries.

Wow...so let me know what you think please. I'll try and get another one shot up soon, but until next time...xoxo