A/N Season 12 has just started airing where I live and is on every Wednesday night, starting this week (5th December). So I am writing this story as a kind of background to the season with each chapter relating directly to each episode. This story will be my interpretation of Elliot and Olivia's behind the scenes relationship throughout the season. Since there are 24 episodes I am committing myself to writing one chapter a week after each new episode airs. I have planned out some events that do not appear on screen but will hopefully come across as being believable within the context of what we do actually see.

1

"Locum"

She had been quiet ever since they had got back from the reunion. She was sitting in front of him now at her desk, filling in the necessary paperwork, a tired haunted expression on her face. It had been a particularly abhorrent case. A ten year old child had disappeared a decade ago and most people involved with the original search had assumed she had been killed; some even thought it might have been the parents. Instead they found that the mother's initial suspicions had been correct and the girl was still alive and had been held captive since her abduction all that time ago. Ten years away from society, effectively kept as a slave, forced to be the wife of an abusive man and it had been clear to everyone that this girl had a huge task ahead of her if she was to regain a semblance of a normal life after this. She was so acutely traumatised that it was one of those sad cases where a rescue didn't feel in any way like a successful outcome: it just felt way too late.

He kept glancing up at her as he struggled on with his own paperwork and every time he took in her despondent appearance, he grew more worried. He knew her well enough after all these years to know that she needed to talk and release some of the tension she had been building up ever since the whole thing had first taken a turn for the worse. The paperwork could wait.

"Liv," he said with a very slight touch of urgency in his voice. He spoke quietly not wanting the other team members listening in. She wasn't one for broadcasting her feelings and having everyone know she was struggling now would make her uncomfortable to say the least. It had taken years for them to build their relationship up to the point where she was willing even to admit to him when she was finding things too much. He knew that at first she had feared that it would be seen as a weakness and that she prided herself on her tough image. He knew it wasn't easy being a woman in a male dominated profession, but the truth was she was one of the people he respected the most in this job. To him, admitting her feelings was a sign of their friendship, not of weakness. He knew full well that these cases got to everyone, because they got to him too.

She looked up from her desk and stared at him listlessly as he said her name. He nodded his head indicating towards the door. It was code for let's get the hell out of here. He expected a struggle. She would no doubt insist on ploughing on, finishing up her work and she'd probably add that he was being ridiculous; that she was absolutely fine. He was prepared to have to work to convince her to leave early and so he was more than a little surprised when instead she simply nodded in agreement. Things must have gotten to her even more than he had thought. He rose to his feet and headed over to his locker, sensing her following right behind.

"Mick's?" he suggested. It was close, there was a fairly good atmosphere there, but more importantly there were several tables scattered around where they could talk in relative privacy.

"Sure," she replied unenthusiastically, once again her demeanour reminding him why he had invited her to go in the first place.

They grabbed their coats and headed out to his car. Lately he would often drive her home, especially when they finished late and it had long turned dark outside. Ever since her ordeal at Seal View she had been more accepting of his offers to see her home. It was bittersweet. He loved that he could do this small thing for her, but he hated that it signified a complete change in her. He thought back to that time she had been stalked and how incensed she had been when he had put that protective detail on her. Back then, she would have scoffed at his offers for a lift home, insisting she could take care of herself. Of course he knew she could. The main reason he offered was more self-orientated than anything else. They would chat about work, his kids, the latest episode of CSI and all the inaccuracies they had spotted and a hundred other things that he would never even recall the next day. It was so easy talking with her. Even after all these years they never seemed to run out of conversation and even when they disagreed on an issue, their arguing was more in the vein of light-hearted banter, not too dissimilar to the kind of arguments his twins had, he had sometimes thought. It was for this precious time alone with her that he really offered.

Today, however, she barely spoke. He didn't press her though. He knew she would talk when she was ready, if she wanted to. All the same, it was a little more awkward than usual, not least because without the usual chatter to distract him, he was left only to muse about her appearance, including how she seemed to have a new pair of ear rings on. He wondered whether she had bought them for herself or whether they had been a present. She never was overly forthcoming about her relationships, but things had changed, they had grown closer again lately and he kind of expected she would mention it now if she had someone. She had told him how that creep, Erik Weber, had come on to her after he had been released from questioning; the nerve! She had at least had the sense to say no, which had soothed him somewhat. The thought of her dating anyone tended to rub him up the wrong way, even though he knew it was unfair of him to expect her to stay single. From a purely selfish perspective though, it suited him, knowing that she was always available on the other end of the phone or to go for a drink like now. He knew he would miss that if she started dating someone.

Once they arrived at Mick's he pulled into a nearby car park and cut the engine, reaching for his wallet which he had shoved in between their seats as he didn't like the feel of it in his back pocket while driving. She didn't move at all.

"Shall we go in?" he asked, concerned at just how distracted she was this evening.

"Yeah," she said. Then she seemed to pull herself together, opened the door and got out. They walked briskly, slipping inside and picking a table away from the bar, tucked away in a corner of the room.

"Beer?" he asked.

"Thanks," she nodded. "I'll get the next round." He nodded, amused at how important it always was to her never to allow him to pay any more than she did. He had confronted her about this before, but she had insisted he was supporting five children, whereas she had no one but herself and so in fact it should really be her buying, not him. He had refused to allow that and so they continued to split everything equally. He headed over to the bar, returning a couple of minutes later with their drinks.

"Cheers," he said, clunking her glass before he took a long sip, watching her as she did the same.

"So you want to talk about it?" he asked, placing his glass back down on the table and looking straight at her, taking in the marks under her eyes which clearly betrayed her fatigue.

"Not really," she said. "Can't we just have a couple of drinks, chat about nothing and pretend we do regular jobs?"

He smiled. He had to agree that their job was certainly anything but normal. The thought suddenly popped into his head just how inappropriate this would seem to most outsiders, given the fact that he was married and was now here alone with her. Fraternizing with the opposite sex outside of work wasn't something he expected most wives would tolerate, but his partnership with Olivia was much more than just the job and Kathy had reluctantly come to accept that, even if she didn't really like it. It was difficult to talk to Kathy about the things he saw at work. He didn't want to take any of the depravity home with him for it was bad enough he had that stuff in his head. Talking with Olivia made sense since they saw the same things and went through similar kinds of emotions. It wasn't just about the actual cases either. It was sometimes just nice to de-stress by deliberately avoiding the difficult subjects and just focusing on the less distressing ones. Olivia seemed to instinctively know what he needed, unlike his wife who would often be unable to accurately read his mood and inadvertently worsen it with her nagging or complaining about how he was never at home. Olivia only ever seemed to calm him down and make him feel he could then cope with whatever the job threw at him.

"I wonder what that would be like?" he asked, realising he was getting much too deep into his own thoughts and that Olivia was sitting there, expecting, needing his company.

"What?" she asked with a confused expression on her face. She seemed lost in her own thoughts herself. He knew her mind was likely racing over recent events and she was struggling to stay focused on their conversation.

"A normal job," he reminded her, grinning. She shrugged and smiled back. She was really quite pretty when she smiled, he thought, not for the first time.

"Do you ever think about it seriously?" she asked pensively, taking another long sip of her beer.

"What leaving SVU?" he asked.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Yeah I do," he admitted. He could tell she hadn't been expecting him to say that. "Don't you?" he asked. He had assumed they all did.

"I can't imagine doing anything else," she replied, a slight air of acceptance and definite resignation in her tone.

He looked at her tired expression and wondered why she was still so passionate about this job after all this time. Yes she was jaded, they all were, but yet she still found the dedication to fight so hard for the victims. He had felt his slipping away over the last few years, the last few months especially, and he felt that much of what he did now had come down more to instinct than any real desire to make a difference any more. He wondered if maybe that was why this case had got to her more than it had him this time. Maybe he just didn't care enough any more? It was a startling thought, for it made him wonder if he should be seriously questioning his future in the job.

"I can't imagine doing it alone though," she said, lowering her eyes to her beer glass as she spoke and awkwardly making small circles with her finger on the glass. The significance wasn't lost on him. It wasn't like her to get all sentimental like this. They didn't generally tend to do much open discussion on their feelings towards each other, mostly leaving things implied. He could tell she was feeling particularly vulnerable tonight though and was probably looking for some kind of reassurance from him. In an unusual move, he awkwardly placed his hand supportively on her arm. He wanted her to know he was there for her. She immediately, although still somewhat shyly, put her hand on top of his and for a few seconds left it there, before pulling away.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I guess this case really did get to me."

"It's OK," he said. "It's been a rough few days."

"Let's get drunk!" she suddenly suggested impulsively.

"What?" He was momentarily thrown by her uncharacteristic suggestion. Understandably, given her history with her mother, she was not a particularly heavy drinker and tended to be quietly disapproving on those nights the others really let their hair down and drank considerably more than usual.

"I just feel like drinking," she said sheepishly, as she realised just how startled Elliot was by her unexpected proposition.

"I have to drive back," he said weakly.

"Of course," she replied. He could feel her disappointment at his reluctant reaction. He felt guilty. He was her partner. She obviously needed to let off steam and she deserved his support.

"It's OK, El," she said, as though she was reading his thoughts. "You should be thinking about getting off soon anyway. We've been stuck together all week. You should be with your family, enjoying your time off."

He hated it when she told him to go and be with his family, making him feel that she thought he was just spending time with her because he felt sorry for her or something. He didn't understand why she didn't get that he actually liked spending time with her like this. It was different at work. It was all business. Relaxing in the pub or over lunch were occasions he generally looked forward too. She was so guarded about her personal life that every time they were alone and she let something new slip, it felt like a strange kind of victory, like he was one step closer to understanding the mystery that was his partner and friend. It was truly bewildering how you could spend so much time with someone, know so much; yet at the same time know so little.

"Let's do it," he said. "I do believe it's your round though, Benson."

"Oh it is, is it?" she said, laughing at his use of her surname. "Fine, I'll be back in a moment."

She stood and walked over to the bar and with only a slight twinge of guilt he felt his eyes briefly wander to her backside as she walked away. He was soon thwarted however, when she suddenly spun round and stared directly at him. His cheeks coloured slightly and he immediately averted his eyes to his beer glass. How the hell had she known? Maybe she hadn't though, he decided. Maybe it was all in his mind.

She returned with the drinks and he thanked her. He watched amused as she started downing her beer, but not getting very far before she decided to come up for air, with a very slight splutter.

"What's so funny?" she asked indignantly.

"You," he chuckled. "You've never chugged a beer in your life, have you?"

"Course I have!" she insisted.

"There's no shame in it!" he said. "Look, if you want something you can down, let's get tequila."

"Tequila? Yuck," she said, wrinkling her face in distaste at the thought.

"I'll get us some after we've finished these," he said.

"Great," she said sarcastically, grinning at his mock insulted expression at her tone.

She leaned back in her chair, just at the same moment a guy passing by suddenly their table stumbled and knocked into her. He reached out to regain his balance and placed his hand on her shoulder. Elliot watched as she immediately tensed at the unexpected contact, her mood instantly changed. The guy started to apologise amicably. He was obviously drunk and with his hand still on her, he moved in a little closer, causing her to visibly flinch. Elliot started to get to his feet.

"Hey, simmer down," the drunk guy said, recognising Elliot's warning, but still obviously too drunk to take it completely on board as he was still touching her.

"Get your hands off her," Elliot growled, watching as Olivia seemed to shrink even further into her chair if that was even possible. The guy threw his hands up in the air in mock surrender and backed away.

"You didn't need to do that," she said in a low voice. "I could have handled him."

Elliot almost rolled his eyes at her predictable response. Instead he looked straight at her.

"I know," he said sincerely. It seemed to appease her. She looked slightly less pissed off, he decided.

They both took a few more sips, but the mood had been ruined. He felt awkward about how quickly he had jumped in, knowing that he had probably embarrassed her, by making her feel like she needed a man to come to her rescue or something. He knew she hated that. She on the other hand was obviously not her usual self this evening and even though Elliot still didn't know the full story of what had happened to her at Seal View, he knew enough to know that ever since she had changed. She had without a doubt felt threatened by that guy this evening. It could well have been just a moment of weakness because she was feeling off and it had only been brief, but he had seen the raw fear in her eyes and it had shaken him. It was a strong reminder that underneath she had her vulnerabilities, just like anyone else.

After another couple of minutes of awkward silence, she spoke. "You know what, I'm really tired, El," she said apologetically. "Do you mind if we call it a night. I just want to sleep."

He couldn't help but feel disappointed. He had been enjoying the evening up until that idiot had bumped into her and he thought she had been too. She was beyond a doubt thoroughly exhausted though. The alcohol had probably made it worse. He'd only had one and a half drinks, so would still be OK to drive home at least.

"If you're sure," he said. "You do look like you could use some sleep."

"Thanks, El," she said. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't be," he said. "We can do this another time. Come on, I'll drive you back."

Abandoning the remainder of their beers, they stood and left.