The heavy sound of the door woke me, and before I saw the blinking fluorescent light, I felt my head pounding, reminding me of every insult, every tear, every ugly truth thrown at my face, every physical and mental injury inflicted. I could feel my eyes were swollen, and that made it more difficult to adapt to the light, even though it wasn't very bright. I didn't make much of an effort though, because I already knew who had opened and closed the door and whose steps now approached me slowly.

Except that I was wrong. It was someone else.

"Olivia," said the low-pitched, familiar voice, and I raised my head so fast that I was dizzy for a moment.

"Elliot!" I breathed, relieved.

I had started to doubt that help would ever come, but even though in my fantasies I saw several officers raiding the place, the EMTs rushing to my rescue, some shouting and shuffling and shooting and rights being read, it was always him that I envisioned rushing to me, kneeling to level with me on my dirty mattress, cupping my face with his hands and telling me everything would be all right, showing me that he cared, despite what had been repeated to me over and over again.

So, even though there were no officers, no shouting, no shooting and no EMTs, and even though he wasn't rushing to me, kneeling down to cup my face and tell me everything would be all right, seeing him here meant that I was safe, that I was rescued. Or at least so I thought.

He stopped walking, looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite recognize. It was most definitely not relief to see me alive. It looked like a pained frown, but with visible effort to show composure and some weird dismissive emotion – contempt? His eyes were darkened, and for a moment I thought I saw a glint from a tear forming, but I couldn't be sure, as it didn't match the rest of his demeanor. He was also in no rush whatsoever: no rush to check on my injuries, no rush to reassure me, no rush to take me away from here. I tried to ignore it all and label it as shock.

"How did you find me?" I asked, trying to move him from that unknown stupor, trying to rush him to the emergency at hand. I also gathered all the energy I had left to slowly pull myself up to an almost standing position. "Did you get him? Did you guys arrest him?" I threw a glance at the two-way mirror, where I knew he had been watching me from. Someone ought to have gone there and subdued him somehow, otherwise Elliot wouldn't have been able to make it here.

He took a step in my direction, and I held out my hand to him, pleading with my eyes for him to take it, longing for the rescue contact, the safety reassurance. It never came.

"Olivia, I'm not here to take you home," he said, furrowing his brow and making his expression even more unreadable than before. I dropped my hand, trying to figure out if I had heard him right.

Elliot took another step, and then blinked his eyes several times, like someone who is bracing themselves before an impact or explosion of some kind. But then his arm swung, fast, and in the next second his fist was connecting with my jaw, the impact or explosion I would never have braced myself for. I fell to the floor with the force of the blow, taking my hand to my face, but even before I was able to register the physical pain, and the blood and the instant swelling, I was hit with the pain of the betrayal, the disappointment, the confirmation of my worst fears.

I raised my head to look at him, and I couldn't even get his name out; I couldn't utter any words at all. I felt a tear not roll down, but take a plunge, as if my eye had been squeezed like a fruit, but shock soon took over as I saw him getting a gun out from the hem of his jeans. His eyes seemed to be purposefully avoiding me, but they turned in my direction when he squatted to finally level with me, but, at this point, I was no longer expecting the rescue, the reassurance.

I didn't know what to expect from this man I had been so sure I knew like the back of my hand, but who had just punched me to the floor and was now holding a gun that he might use on me. In that moment, I was okay with it: if he were to kill me, at least this nightmare would end. If living meant facing a reality where the only person whose love and loyalty had never failed me would be capable of ending my life, then I was willing to give up on it.

I had been looking away with my eyes shut, now bracing myself for anything, but I decided to look at him. Maybe it was hope that I might see a clue there, something that told me why this was happening, but I didn't have any time to analyze.

"Good night," he said, his arm swinging once again but this time with the butt of the gun aimed at my head.

And then it was lights out.

"So, where are we having drinks tonight?" Detective Fin Tutuola said, standing up. "I'm finally done with paperwork, I think I've earned it."

"You, done with paperwork?" scoffed John Munch. "For me it's reason enough to celebrate."

Olivia laughed at her colleagues' banter and threw a glance at Elliot, who was already looking at her with a smile and, raising an eyebrow, he communicated that he was willing to go for that drink. With a nod, she replied that she would go as well.

"Just for you, Fin," she said, putting the cap back into her pen and putting it away. "I'll do this small sacrifice. Just to make you happy."

"That's what I call teamwork," Munch said, standing up. "What about you, Elliot, don't you have to be home for diaper duty?"

"Yes," Elliot replied, putting on his suit jacket. "That's why I'm coming."

He exchanged a look with Olivia as she put on her jacket. She warily returned his smile, quickly looking away. She had noticed that Elliot had been putting off going home lately, and he seemed to consider her his partner in crime for finding excuses to do so. Anything would do; interviewing suspects after hours instead of waiting for the next day, volunteering for stakeouts and also the occasional drink with the team, like tonight. As much as she liked that unspoken bond with him, she knew she had to be careful.

Complicated seemed like an understatement to describe Olivia Benson's relationship with her NYPD partner, Elliot Stabler. Soon after she joined the Manhattan Special Victims Unit, almost ten years earlier, they developed a partnership built on trust and respect, not only in the field but also as friends. She knew his wife, Kathy, and their four children, he knew the story of her life and why she had become a detective, including how being the product of her mother's rape had driven her to work with sex crimes. Also, they trusted each other with their lives. The lighthearted yet dependable relationship they had back then was a welcome relief to the horrible things they had to deal with every day.

With time, however, something shifted in their dynamic. While they frequently disagreed about cases before without any hard feelings involved, the smallest differences in opinion started to become heated discussions that made them not talk to each other for days. Elliot started having trouble to deal with the darkness brought on by cases, and sometimes she would need to cover for him when he let his anger take over and rules got bent or broken. Their partnership still worked, as she would balance his temper with her sensibility, but while they still trusted each other implicitly, their relationship was no longer a relief to the horrors of the job, but almost another burden that came with it.

Not coincidentally with Elliot's anger issues, he and Kathy had broken up, causing even more tension in his relationship with Olivia, as many times he seemed to take his frustrations out on her. He also seemed to keep her at arm's length during that time, as though he was afraid they might be getting too close – which they were, something they found out during a case in which they prioritized each other's lives over two children's. That caused strain and even some time apart, but eventually they became partners again. Little by little, their relationship was rebuilt, as both realized they wanted and needed to make it work.

After he and Kathy had gotten back together, Elliot seemed less scared to get close to Olivia. It was almost as if his wedding ring created a force field that kept them at a safe distance from each other. His marriage was a safe, clear line between them that they knew they couldn't cross and could easily respect. When he was separated, the absence of that line had made them unable to tell how far they could go, causing them to pull away from each other just in case. If Olivia had known Kathy was the secret to make their partnership work, she would have found a way to get them back together earlier.

That was actually a lie, she admitted to herself, taking a sip of her beer. She was sitting next to Elliot and across from Munch and Fin, and those thoughts about her and Elliot crossed her mind as she watched him lightheartedly cracking jokes, seeming to be at ease with himself and enjoying the company. She forced herself to think again that maybe Kathy was the balance he needed in his life, even though, with the help of the half pint she had already had, she was able to admit to herself that those conclusions actually hurt her.

Olivia couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when her feelings for Elliot had changed, but she had noticed when the simple mention of Kathy and their married life started to bother her, her level of concern for his life and well-being surpassed what one would expect from a partner, and seeing him and being physically close to him started sending shivers down her spine. When he told her that Kathy was pregnant and he was going back home, she had felt her heart sink. Maybe that was the best for him, but she would be lying if she said that was what she wanted. She knew it wasn't.

But then again, that's what you get when you fall in love with your partner, she thought. And that is why she was so cautious around him these days, when he seemed to be using her more than ever as an excuse to stay away from home for as long as he could. She knew that she had already been cause for tension in his marriage, and she wanted to stay the hell away from it.

So it was bittersweet to be like this, sitting next to him, maybe a bit closer than she should, laughing at his jokes and bantering with him over beers. She knew they had a special connection, and she knew it might have even been close to becoming something more at one point, but the cold, hard truth was that he was married and would soon get up from that table, announcing he was going home, breaking yet another small piece of her heart as he did every single day when he left.

That's why she decided to be the one to leave first. "Okay, boys," she announced after taking the last sip of her beer. "I'm calling it a night."

Fin and Munch had also finished their drinks and, after she spoke, they also decided it was time to go.

"There will be more finished paperwork to celebrate tomorrow if I stop drinking now," Munch said jokingly, standing up as the others laughed.

"I'm out of here," said Fin, who had been texting in his cell phone for the last fifteen minutes.

"Oh, come on, it's early!" Elliot protested. "Just one more beer."

"Sorry, man," Fin said, "I would, but my girl is waiting for me."

"Yes, my friend," Munch said, "No one is waiting for me except my cold, empty bed, but I'm leaving anyway. Olivia, stay and have another drink with our friend if you will, or he won't leave us alone."

"Yes, Liv, stay," Elliot asked, with a light smile. "One more drink."

Olivia already had a hard enough time saying no to him, and alcohol definitely didn't help. "Okay," she buckled. "Just one."

"That's my girl," he said, waving at the waiter and raising two fingers.

There was a moment of silence as they watched their colleagues leaving and then the waiter approaching with their drinks. After he left and they were officially alone, Elliot chuckled.

"And then there were two," he said, smiling at her.

"Story of our lives," Olivia chuckled back, and another moment of silence followed. She decided to make small talk. "So how are the kids? How's baby Eli?"

"He's great," Elliot replied, looking a bit relieved to have found something to talk about. "He's almost walking. He's also a good sleeper now. Mostly."

"He's a good boy," Olivia smiled, nodding. "And how's Kathleen?" she asked a bit more cautiously, knowing that wasn't an easy subject.

"She's responding to treatment," he replied. "She's very thankful to you, by the way."

"Oh, really?" Olivia was a bit embarrassed. "I didn't do anything."

"And so am I," he said, his expression now serious. "I never really thanked you for that. You're always saving my kids, aren't you?"

"I think you've had one too many," Olivia said, taking his glass from his hand. "You, thanking me? I'm not letting you drive home."

"And saving me," he said, very serious, ignoring her jokes and making her smile fade as surprise took over. "Thank you," he said, his eyes piercing hers, and then he smiled, looking at his glass in her hand. "Now give it back."

Olivia laughed, but she was still mesmerized at Elliot's acknowledgement. He didn't usually express feelings, and while she knew he was thankful, it was good to hear the words for a change.

"It's not fair though," he went on, "that you got to see pictures of me as a kid when I never got to see yours."

"Oh, trust me," she said, thankful for the joke; it was easier to respond to that. "You don't want to see that."

"Why not? I bet you were a cute kid. Imagine that. Sweet little Olivia." He seemed amused at the thought. "What were you like in school? Were you one of the popular kids?"

"Me, no," she replied. "I was a bit of a geek. I kept to myself a lot. Now you must have been a jock, all the way."

"Yeah, maybe," he said. "How come you kept to yourself? I bet the boys followed you around."

"Well, maybe a little bit," she admitted, refraining from dwelling on the subject of her loneliness in school, remembering how ashamed she used to be of her mother's drinking problem, on top of her other issues with her, like feeling rejected for being the constant reminder of her rape, and how all of that had made her want to hide from the world. She hoped her smile would conceal where her mind had gone and changed the subject.

More beers were ordered and drunk without any mention of that half pint that was going to be the last one, and Olivia noticed how the bar was getting increasingly emptier as time passed. She was waiting for the moment when Elliot would burst their little bonding-over-drinks bubble and call it a night, but he wasn't getting around to it. She knew that doing so herself was the right thing to do, but, if she was honest, she didn't want to.

Curiosity was nagging at her, though, and she had been avoiding the subject all night. No longer able to contain the impulse, she took a sip of liquid courage and asked him a question.

"So… Why have you been avoiding going home these days?"

Elliot seemed surprised at first, but then he simply shrugged and looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, smiling and shaking his head.

"Ok, message received…" she retorted, also smiling. "I won't ask again."

"It's nothing," he said, now more serious, looking away. He shook his head seeming to be looking for a way to explain something. "Everything is fine but… I just don't think… I just don't think that's what we wanted."

That took Olivia by surprise. "What wasn't what you wanted?"

"Getting back together," he said, facing her with a very serious expression on his face.

"Oh," Olivia said, looking away, astonished. She hadn't expected that kind of revelation, and definitely not in as much detail.

"You know, it was the right thing to do, with the baby," he went on, playing with a napkin. He hesitated. "But sometimes... Sometimes I wonder… If we really should have."

That last sentence was said quickly, like he was trying to pretend he didn't say it, and he drank a long sip of his beer as though he wanted to drown his words. Setting his glass back on the table, he looked at her again. "I'm rambling. Let's talk about something else."

"Fine by me," she said, still looking away, kicking herself inside for asking about his marriage. She took another sip of her beer, feeling his eyes locked on her. They didn't falter when she turned hers to them again, and there was a moment of silence as they stared at each other.

"So what about Jack?" Elliot asked, breaking the intense eye contact for a moment. "How's that going?"

"Jeff," she corrected, laughing at the fact that he could never get the name right. "Well, that's no longer going anywhere."

"Sorry to hear," he said, not looking sorry at all. Actually, she noticed he was almost smiling. "How come?"

"Ah, you know," it was her turn to hesitate and look for the words in her head. "Just didn't work."

"Yeah, well…" he hedged. "It's complicated, isn't it? Relationships…"

"We'll say!" Olivia retorted, approaching him slightly and pointing from herself to him to emphasize her point. He laughed.

"Yes, I know," he confirmed, and then locked his eyes on hers again, not flinching from her sudden closeness. "But we work, don't we?"

She considered it for a moment; he seemed to be referring to more than just their partnership, but, as usual, she couldn't be sure.

"Yes, we do," she answered softly, not specifying either.

They sat like that, eyes locked, at a mere palm of each other, as Olivia tried to guess what was going through Elliot's mind. She shifted between his eyes, looking for clues, but there was none. Certainly none that would indicate that a second later he would close the distance between them and kiss her.

His lips touched hers lightly at first, as though asking for permission, and as she returned, he kissed her again vehemently. Placing a hand on her jaw and tangling his fingers in her hair, he tilted his face to the side and parted her lips with his, deepening the kiss. At the touch of their tongues, Olivia couldn't help but let a moan escape, and in response she felt his other arm circling her waist and pulling her flush against him.

It took Olivia a moment to realize what was happening. Elliot was kissing her. Her partner, her married partner, was kissing her, holding her close to his body, stroking her jawline with his thumb. Their tongues were in sync, moving together as if they were used to doing so. After the initial shock and doubt, Olivia couldn't help but let go of control. She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he groaned in response. A second later, she felt his body tensing up, and he pulled away.

"I'm sorry," he said, breaking contact completely and looking away from her. "I don't know what… I'm sorry."

Still confused, Olivia heard her cell phone ringing. It took her a moment to be able to take it from her pocket and answer it. "Benson," she said, running a hand through her hair and struggling to listen to the person on the other end of the line. What she heard seemed to wake her up from her reverie, though, and she tugged at Elliot's arm to wake him up from his when she hung up. "We have a case."