Thanks so much for the amazing reviews for the first part. The response was overwhelming in a wonderful way. So sorry it's taken me this long to get the next part up because this wasn't easy. I wanted it to be consistent with the first part so I hope you enjoy. As of now, this is it. But if anything else comes to me, I may add a third part or post a separate story that's related to this. It's back to Cruz after this. Once again, thanks so much for reading!


6 Months Later

The humidity doesn't bother her, it actually reminds her of how far she's come since the icy winter months.

It also reminds her of how much she's thawed out since that day in the stairwell, how much easier it is to breathe when she wakes up every morning.

It's a Saturday and since her promotion, she's able to do this; to just, take a walk and leave the musty atomosphere of the precinct on her lunch break.

They still stare at her, her colleagues, but now it's not at the fragile, emotionally distraught woman walking out of Cragen's office that day after she'd been taken away from the hell she still dreams about.

Instead they stare at her like their superior, and it feels invigorating. She holds onto those little pieces of herself that she sees in their eyes, someone stronger, stealthier and the chill slowly seeps out of her and the warmth filters into her like the brisk summer wind that whisps all around her now.

She stands outside the large building and just stares up at the one window in it that reminds her of so many memories. The reminder makes her want to tear up for the lone fact she'll never make another memory in this building.

Instead, she sniffs and takes a deep breath, lifting the small purse, she now carries with her all the time, over her shoulder and adjusts the short sleeved, light blue blouse she'd been eager to pull out of her closet for this day.

Glancing back up at the window she'd blinked her lights out of on more than one occassion, she lets a sad smile flow across her face, remembering that no one lives up there now. Her old super uses it as an office because tennants were just too turned off by the fact an officer had been through her own personal hell inside.

She doesn't really blame them, she's surprised she's even able to stand outside it, considering a day doesn't go by that she doesn't flashback to that night over a year ago.

The dreams, the nightmares, the PTSD, never fully goes away but she's learned to live with the fact by turning them into something positive, reminding herself that she'd made it out alive. That's she's still breathing, living.

As she stands on the sidewalk, she watches from the corners of her eyes as the city continues to go on around her. How the people on the sidewalks have no idea who she is or what she does or what went on in the very apartment she can't take her eyes off of. She wants to stop someone on their way by and say, Hey, see that window up there? Yea, I almost died in there awhile back, but for some reason I decided to meet up with someone here now when I was pretty much coping with everything.

"Hey," his voice breaks her thoughts and she turns and immediately her lips lift into a small smile, she can't help it. "Thought I'd find you here."

"Yeah," she swallows. "I uh, I'd realized I didn't tell you I moved when we last talked on the phone."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yea, I took a cab over here from where I live. You know, after everything that happened, I... I couldn't go back there," she trails off softly, wiping a hand down her mouth as she glances at him from the corner of her eye. "So, Brian, you know, Cassidy? He offered to help me move and we ended up just moving in together. We were kinda of dating before that and we just fell into a routine and ... uh, I don't know why I'm telling you all of this."

"No," Elliot interjects. "This is why we're here right? To meet up for coffee and ... talk," he adds hesitantly, as if wondering if she could have possibly changed her mind already.

"You're right, you're right. I'm ready..." she breathes out. "You wanna just walk down to the diner then or grab a cab?"

"I could use some fresh air, my cab driver left," he offers with a sly smile, as he pushes his hands into his jean pockets, his forearms flexing under the white t-shirt he wears, his sunglasses ontop of his head making him look considerably in shape, and healthy and she feels herself thaw out even more.

"Yeah," she nods, pulling her hair up into a short ponytail as they start to walk side by side down the sidwalk in the direction of the diner a few blocks away.

Almost instantly, they fall into step, their arms swing in the same pattern, his footfalls matching hers and it makes her anxious. She's anxious for many reasons.

She's anxious to know about him. She's anxious about her own reaction to what he has to say. She's anxious to know whether or not what he has to say will hurt or heal her heart from the past three years he's been gone.

She wonders if he feels the same way, if he's apprehensive about her reaction to what he has to say. It can't be easy for him to tell her what his logic was for finally showing up when he did. She almost knows before hand that she isn't going to understand.

Almost knows that he'll have a reason but she'll want to be selfish and need more from him and she almosts chickens out right there, almost stops midstride to run in the other direction so she doesn't have to live with the intense pain or gratification, whichever it may be, from what he's going to say.

His voice cuts through her thoughts again and she shouldn't be surprised, he cuts through every facet of her life. He's the one who used to rip her apart at her seams and sow her back together again. It was natural, it was something that made her grow, so when he stops in front of her, facing her, she wonders if he'd been reading her mind yet again.

"Liv."

"Yeah," she rasps out, her voice cracking.

"You know, we don't have to do this today. I mean... I know we agreed that we could do this, talk, but I can tell something's off. If you're not ready to hear me out yet, then that's okay. I understand. I deserve it."

"No, no..." she interjects. "Elliot, it's not that,' and she feels the half lie in the pit of her stomach, "If it's okay, I'd rather take the food to go and go sit in the park and do this or something. Just the thought of being inside today and... contained ... err like you said, fresh air would do us both some good, especially while we talk and catch up."

Elliot watches her with concerned eyes for a moment, his neck bobbing as he swallows nervously in front of her, his neck and cheeks glowing with a slight flush from his confusion.

"Okay, then," he speaks slowly, nodding toward the diner they'd made their way to without her noticing. "I'll go order, you wanna stay out here?"

She nods and watches him walk into the diner they'd frequented for years as partners. When his back disappears though the clear glass doors, she finally breathes in the lingering scent of him.

. . .

"We divorced over two years ago. I know it sounds cliche, Liv. But leaving the force, leaving all the distractions and chaos behind, it really didn't mend anything. If anything..." he trails off, biting into his hoagie sandwich.

"Oh, so I was a distraction? You said, leaving the distractions of your job behind didn't change things. I was part of the job then," she offers him, timidly, trying not to sound hurt and yet trying to gauge an honest response from him.

He immediately stops chewing, setting his sandwich down on the picnic table they sit across from each other at, and just stares at her. His face is blank but that all too telling movement in his jaw muscle gives way his unease, his retort.

"You know better , Liv."

"Do I?" she asks innocently as she takes a bite of her own club sandwich.

"Olivia," he starts, that bob showing up in his neck again as he swallows, distracting her from the emotion in his voice. He crosses his arms on the table in front of him and leans in, his eyes bright, maybe with moisture, she can't tell because she can't look at them right now, and bends his head trying to engage her.

"El.. I," she starts, then covers her own mouth as she bites her bottom lip.

"No, listen," he stops her gently. "You know better than that. I know you're hurt. I know you're expecting all the quintascential excuses but all I have to say, is that you were more than work. You were more than a partner. I couldn't take work home with me because I didn't want to mix the two but this one, it wasn't about you being the job. Don't you realize, that after what happened that day with that girl, that what I was seeing in my nightmares, that what I was feeling, that I could never let you see that? I wanted so badly to let you take hold of that pain, but I couldn't, you didn't need to see any of that. I wanted to keep it away from you because you are my family. I needed to make sure I was okay before I let you see into me again. I wanted to make sure my life was something I was willing to show people, not because I had to, but because I felt comfortable doing so. I want you to know... I never stop thinking about you..." he breathes, his last words flowing out on a short breath.

Her bottom lip trembles but the tremor is safely concealed behind her hand. As she continues to stare at the top of the picnic table, she realizes her focus has been on it the entire time he'd been speaking.

She wants to be mad at him. She is mad at him for thinking she needed to be sheltered from his demons.

"I want to be mad at you. I am mad at you." She whispers it a few times to herself before looking up to him and catching his watery gaze, his arms are still resting on the table, but he's got his hands clasped, one of his thumbs rubbing nervously over the other as he waits for her repsonse. She can tell he's laid it all on the table.

He's bare. She's so used to him being hidden behind a concrete wall of emotional barriers, hidden away and contained. Contained.

She continues, surprising herself when she reaches timidly for his hands, placing her palm over his combined ones, effectively stopping his motions.

"I'm mad at you. I'm mad that you thought I needed sheltering from your demons. Lord knows, Elliot, I've had my own my entire life. You should know that."

"Olivia," he tries to comment but she stops him, snatching her hand away and sitting straight up on the hard wooden seat of the picnic table.

"No, listen. Just ... listen. I don't need sheltering. What I've always needed is for you to be honest with me. We can't be friends if you're going to shut me out. We can't be around each other anymore if I shut you out," she rambles on, not noticing his eyes scrunch closed.

"Liv, I wanted to be what you needed for once. You've always been what I needed when I couldn't reign myself in. After I heard you were going to be testifying, I tried so goddamned hard to make sure I was in one piece when I showed up to the court house. I knew you didn't want to be coddled. I knew you would hate it if I'd shown up all those other times with everyone else around and to be honest, even if I'd come around when no one else was there, I was sure you'd be tired of me. I was always worried you'd get tired of me..." he trails off, his voice trembling.

His words are exactly what she'd been expecting. Nothing less but a little bit more than she bargained for. He's right.

As much as she'd yearned for him the days after he'd stepped away from that stage of his life, she'd inherently known he had done the same exact thing she would have.

The way they understand each other is beyond normal functioning human beings. That thought alone, makes her want to scream at the absurdity flowing in her mind.

"I am mad at you," she repeats and she knows she's probably starting to sound insane, but she doesn't care. So she presses on, "I have demons, I have everything you do," she adds again solemnly. "I thought I wanted to know what kept you away, but in all honesty?" She asks it as a question but in reality it's as simple as the oxygen they simply cannot live without. "I would have done the same thing," she breathes out, her voice cracking as she rests her elbows on the table and hides her face in her palms.

She starts to feel her body shake but she tries to remain absolutely still. She wants to be mad at him, she inwardly repeats one more time, but she finally realizes he's done everything for her.

For her.

He'd waited for the right time.

And she doesn't blame him.

The warmth of his hands filter into her consciousness as he wraps his palm around one of her forearms, pulling it away from her face, her eyes blurred from the honesty she's let flow out of her and from his own truths still dangling in the air above them.

"I can breathe now," he smiles, the octave of his voice just above the whisper of wind dancing around them, as the sun seems to glide out from behind a cloud.

"I know," she nods, letting herself smile. "I think we can do this, Elliot."

"I think so too," he grins, as he pushes around the bread crumbs on his plate. "I'd like for us to be friends again."

"Me too," she whispers as she picks at the bread on her sandwich. "I know it won't be the same as before."

"No... it won't," he agrees.

"We're different people. I've seen a lot, done a lot, in the three and half years since you've been away. I've come to think I'm more jaded than ever," she offers sheepishly.

"Well, we have something in common already then, because me too," he responds, biting his lower lip. "You forgive me?" he asks quietly, his back slumped as his hands linger closely to hers on top of the table. "I understand if you need more time. I do, Liv."

She watches as his knuckles maneuver under the scarred skin of his fingers and she takes a deep breath, becoming aware of the sounds around her for the first time since they'd arrived.

Everything starts to materialize; the sounds of people chattering, the sounds of dog's barking, the children on the playground playing, the breeze ruffling the branches above them and the sound of her own heart charging against her rib cage.

"Yeah," she offers lightly, "Yeah. Like I said, I may not have wanted to believe it at first, but I understand, Elliot. I feel like we're always on the same page even if we're not in the same room."

He smiles at that, raising his hands to his face and rubbing his eyes as if wiping away the weariness that had been lingering behind his lids.

He takes a deep breath and she just watches him, watches as the light summer breeze ruffles his shirt sleeve and how his sunglasses sit lower on his forehead than before. Before she knows it, her lunch break is over and she finds herself wanting to call off for the rest of the day, wanting nothing more than to sit here at this very picnic table until she knows everything that's happened since he left.

"I uh, I had Lizzie and Dickie living with me for awhile," he says around a bite of one of his potato chips. "I think now, having them rooming with Maureen and her friend up in Long Island was a better idea for all of us. Those two are something else," he smiles, leaning in and locking eyes with her.

She finds herself fascinated by his stories. She longs for those tiny tidbits of his life and what he may or may not have been doing at the same time she had been sitting at her desk or at home thinking of him and how he was.

She leans in too, crossing her arms in front of her on the table, "I bet. They're all so grown up. You get Eli this weekend?"

"Yeah," he mutters around a smirk. "He's seven now."

"Wow," she utters. "Time flies."

"Don't we know it," he says slowly, locking eyes with her again. "Liv, I know I don't deser-"

"El," she interrupts him again. "Really, stop. Look, I have to be back at the precinct in a few minutes. You wanna ride back with me?"

He closes his eyes for a brief second and then he slowly opens them again, his crooked smile spreading across his face once more.

"I uh, I haven't been back since..."

"The shooting," she finishes for him in a whisper.

He nods and scratches a random spot on the table top with one of his fingernails. "Yeah, I'll ride with you though. You can drop me off at my place on your way back to work," he adds with a raise of his brows. "It's actually on the way. See, I could never stray too far from you."

Shaking her head, she inhales deeply and leans her head sideways, gaping at him in wonderment.

"You? You've been living ..."

"Three doors down from the diner."

"Elliot."

"I know, I've been there for seven months and I still have boxes everywhere. There's an even bigger mess since Liz and Rick moved out. That's where I'd been getting my shit together before that day at the courthouse. I went by your apartment one day but I was too much of a coward to stop so I kept going. Good thing now that I think about it."

"Yeah, I moved."

"Yeah, you told me."

"Right."

"So."

"So."

"I'd like to see you more."

"I don't know," she states slowly, her voice just above a whisper. "I don't want what happened with us before to happen again. If you can't promise me that first, then maybe..."

"I promise," he offers immediately, his eyes full of sincerity and sorrow all in one. "I promise, Olivia. I gave you your space but I won't let you get that far away ever again," he rasps out, his hand sliding across the table, taking ahold of one of her wrists. He pulls it out away from her body and squeezes it gently. "If you want to, I'd like to start slow. I want to be friends again."

"Sure," she barely mumbles, the sensation of his hand touching her skin too blatantly apparent in her mind. She doesn't like to think of the cliche butterlies but this is real. The contact is real and she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, feeling the words escape on her exhale, I can breathe.

"I'll call you," he says quietly, releasing her wrist at the same time as he sits up and grabs his trash. "I think I have some errands to run. I'd ask you to come but you said you were on your lunch break so I'll let you go ahead. I'll just take my own cab instead of making you drop me off."

"Okay," she acquiesces. "Okay, then I'll talk to you later."

He stops, and looks like he's caught off guard for a second, and she still sees his hesitation of her acceptance of his absence. But she knows he's only being careful for her. He's making sure she's confident in his presence and she couldn't appreciate him more because of that. "I'll call you," he utters as he rubs ahand down the back of his head, his glasses covering what she imagines are weary blue eyes.

Nodding, Olivia slowly gathers her trash too and a small smile flows freely across her face again.

She feels lighter and she feels every nerve end bouncing around in her limbs, and she wants to tell him in that moment that yeah, she'll go with him, that she'll go along with his idea of running errands because she knows he wants to show her his new pad.

But she won't. She can't right now. They needed to go slow, like he'd said and she knows he understands. She'd asked from him to talk and he had, and now, if given the chance, she'll do the same.

She'll give him a little piece at a time though because starting over new is like breathing in deeply and holding that breath inside yourself. Your body starts tingling and you let it out, feeling the pressure lifting and easing.

And you start breathing again.

end.