AN: I tried to upload this chapter yesterday, but I guess the site was having some issues. Anyway, so glad that this story seems to be getting a positive reception. I'm pouring my heart into it and I hope you guys like it. It's going to be a bit of a slow burn, but I promise it's coming.

I still own nothing.

Can I come over?

The text from Elliot came in a little before midnight. It had been a long few days and she knew Elliot had taken everything that happened with Victor Tate and Katie Harris very hard. It was Friday night and they had the rest of the weekend off so she responded, Of course.

After closing out the text she called the Chinese place that Elliot loved and ordered enough food for the two of them. She figured he probably hadn't eaten and though she had already had dinner, she still had room in her stomach for more. She busied herself tidying up the apartment and briefly wondered if she should change from her black leggings and maroon camisole into something more professional. Screw it, she decided. It was late and she was in her own home. She wanted to be comfortable.

About a half hour later she was paying the Chinese delivery guy when her buzzer rang once more. It was Elliot. He always buzzed once quickly, then buzzed a second time and held it for three seconds. She let him up and closed the door to put the food down on the coffee table and pour two glasses of wine.

Elliot knocked and she found herself stealing a quick glance in the mirror and rubbing away eyeliner that had smudged underneath her eyes before opening the door to see her distraught partner. Instead of his usual suit and tie, he was wearing jeans and a tight white t-shirt with a gray zippered hoodie over it. She recognized it as the one he wore that night they sat on his porch after she got back from Oregon. That night she had admitted he was the longest relationship she had ever had with a man.

Before she could invite him in, he spoke, "Twenty five years, Olivia. Victor Tate is going to sit in prison for twenty five years for a crime he didn't commit because I fucked up."

"Come in, Elliot," she said, gesturing into the apartment. He took a step in and she closed the door behind him. She grabbed his hand and guided him to the couch. "I want to say that it's not your fault, but I know that won't help. But it really isn't, Elliot. You had what you thought was strong evidence at the time. She ID'ed him. His alibi was shaky. It wasn't just you. There was a trial. Twelve jurors found him guilty. This was not and is not all on you."

"Goddamit! Why did Foster have to jump. Why didn't Kendall stop him? And what's with Paxton. 'Unless you know the governor?' What the fuck was that? There's gotta be something we can do. We have to get him out."

Olivia walked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed the two wine glasses, bringing them back to the couch and handing one to Elliot. She took a small sip from her glass and placed her hand on Elliot's knee. "El," she began. "I know that you feel guilty. But you need to accept that there might not be anything we can do. It's like Sonya said, it's hearsay. Without Foster's testimony there is no way, legally, to get Tate out."

"I cant let an innocent man live behind bars for another fifteen years, Liv. I cant." He downed his wine in one large gulp. Olivia reached over and took the glass from his hand, placing it on the coffee table and pulling over the bag of Chinese food.

"Why don't you have something to eat, El? I got your favorite. Chicken and broccoli. You can even have the eggrolls," she said, the corners of her mouth tugging up into a small smile.

"Wow, I must really be one sorry son of a bitch if you're giving me all the eggrolls," He joked.

"I mean if you don't want them, I'd be happy to take them off your hands," she smirked.

"No, no. I didn't say that." He reached for the small plastic bag and plucked one eggroll out, stuffing it almost entirely in his mouth.

"So what do you think about Paxton?" She asked as she picked up some lo mein using her chopsticks adeptly.

"She's a bitch," Elliot answered with eggroll still in his mouth.

"She's no Cabot, that's for sure."

"Alex never would have let this happen. Foster wouldn't have gotten out on bail. That girl wouldn't have died. And Victor Tate would be getting out of prison."

"You don't know that, El. I think Sonya did the best she could. It was a difficult situation. Only Foster is to blame. That's it. No one else."

Elliot looked up from his chicken at Olivia. He was noticing more and more how beautiful she was. Her hair fell gently on her strong shoulders, which were bare except for the thin, maroon straps that held up her camisole. His eyes moved down her tight, toned arms and back up to her chest. Not her breasts. He wouldn't dare look at them because he knew the effect it would have on him. Instead he looked at the two, layered gold necklaces she wore every day. The top one read Fearlessness. Elliot knew Olivia couldn't be fearless, every one was afraid of something, but he couldn't think of anything. She was so brave and headstrong. He realized he had been staring for a bit longer than he probably should have and so he spoke, "I'm an asshole. God, look at me. I'm supposed to be putting you first and here I am unloading all my crap on to you. You should just kick me out."

"Then who would help me eat all this food?" she asked, moving to the end of the couch. She rested her back against the arm of the couch and lifted her legs, placing her bare feet in his lap. "You want to put me first? Rub my feet for me while you talk." She continued eating, but Elliot put his take out container down on the coffee table before wrapping his large hands around her feet.

"And what the fuck was up with Kendall? He had no idea how to talk to the victim, he hit Foster with his car, and he slapped around Foster's ex. Who knows? He probably threw Foster out the window too."

Olivia let out a low moan when he hit a sweet spot on the arch of her foot before addressing his last statement. "I don't think he tossed Foster, El. Kendall was wrong about a lot of stuff. He acted unprofessionally, but he's messed up. We talked when we tracked down that pimp looking for Beverly Neal. His daughter died when his ex got involved with a meth dealer. Blew them up. It doesn't take a genius to figure out why he's completely out of control."

"Shit," Elliot said. He pulled one hand off her feet and reached for his phone in the pocket of his hoodie. She saw him start typing with his left hand while his right continued manipulating her feet.

"What are you doing?" Olivia asked.

"Texting my kids. I want to take them out to dinner tomorrow."

Olivia nodded to herself, "I think that's a good idea. It will be good for you to see them."

Elliot looked over at her, "Do you wanna come, Liv?" She could hear in his voice that he was genuinely asking, not just because she didn't have anyone to go out to dinner with. There was no one for her to pull closer after hearing about Kendall's daughter.

"Thanks but no thanks, El. They are your kids. You need time with them. I don't want to get in the way."

"You wouldn't be, Olivia."

"I appreciate the offer, I really do. You go. Maybe some other time, though. I would love to see the kids," she smiled to soften her rejection.

"Definitely some other time, okay?" Olivia nodded.

They made small talk for a little while as they finished up the food until Olivia leaned her head back and yawned.

"Am I keeping you up?" Elliot asked.

Olivia looked across the room at the clock and saw it was almost 2 A.M.

"No," she answered, though her eyelids were becoming pretty heavy. But she didn't want Elliot to go.

"Yes, I am. I better get going," he said, lifting her calves from his lap and placing them down on the couch while he stood up. Olivia stood as well and walked him to the door.

"Enjoy your weekend off, El. Try not to beat yourself up too much. You're a great cop," Olivia said. "Have fun with your kids and I'll see you Monday."

Elliot pulled Olivia in for a hug and rested his mouth against he forehead. "Goodnight, Liv," he whispered before pressing his lips to her smooth skin in a kiss. He pulled away and was out the door before she could register what he had done. She closed the door behind him and put her fingers to her forehead. Her stomach was doing somersaults and she wasn't sure how to react to her partner's lips on her. It wasn't until she felt her cheekbones start to protest that she realized she was smiling.

Pretty, pretty please review. Support, suggestions, anything!