Author's Comments: I had someone comment on "Let Her Go", saying they didn't see how I could possibly think that Olivia loves Elliot for real on the show, and that they had a strictly "brother-sister" relationship. So I thought it would be fun to play a little game, join in if you feel like it—I want to start naming all the hints that the show has dropped over the years that would lead us EO'ers to believe these two have romantic feelings for one another.

Here are three off the top of my head—1. Kathy Griffin's character commented in "P.C." that "Stabler totally has the hots for you." 2. Olivia was jealous of Dani, and especially when Elliot stood close to her. 3. Kathy told Olivia she always worried that Elliot might cheat with Olivia.

What are some others? I think if the producers (and even the actors) hadn't dropped so many "hints", we wouldn't be getting these ideas.

Too Close

Chapter Two

Part 1.

Olivia stayed at work late, burying herself in new case files to forget about Elliot's anger. Two hours after he left, she rubbed her eyes as Amanda passed by her desk. "Need a ride home?" said the younger blonde, her forehead wrinkled in concern.

Normally, Olivia would decline. The chill night air helped her clear away the stress of the day even on ordinary shifts. But tonight she thought the company might keep her from the wash of emotions threatening to flood her. "Yeah," she said, "I'd like that."

As soon as they got in the car though, Olivia thought it might have been a mistake to accept, as Amanda said, "You know, Liv, nobody else blames you for what happened tonight. It happens."

Olivia sighed. She had hoped she wouldn't have to talk about this again. "It didn't just happen," she said. "I froze. I saw the fireplace poker and I couldn't move."

Amanda's mouth clamped shut as she realized what Olivia was saying. Then her jaw went slack, and she said, "I'm not trying to pry, Liv, but are you getting help?"

Olivia ran a hand through her hair and said quietly, "Yeah. Yeah, but that doesn't stop the flashbacks. Or the bouts of shaking for no reason, or the nightmares."

Amanda nodded once and didn't say anything else, apparently unable to provide any words of wisdom. They pulled up in front of Elliot's building, and Olivia said, "Thanks for the ride, Amanda."

"No problem." As Olivia made her way to the other side of the car on her way to the door, Amanda got out. Olivia shot her a curious look, and Amanda said, "Hey, Liv, I'm pulling for you, okay. If you need anything . . ."

Amanda ever so slightly reached out a hand, and Olivia held it in hers for a second and put on a smile for her friend. Then she turned toward the building and sighed, entering the code to let herself into the building.

As soon as she opened the front door of the apartment, Elliot got up from the couch where he had been sitting in his underwear. He glared at her silently, and the muscles in her arms and legs tensed up in response. She tried to ignore him, setting her keys on the table and getting out a glass to pour some water, but his eyes followed her everywhere, until she said, "What?"

"Amanda brought you home?" he said.

"Yeah," she said curtly, not in the mood for his irritated tone. "You were watching me out the window?"

Ignoring her question, he said, "So, do I have to worry about you and her now?"

She brought the cup down hard on the counter, staring straight ahead. "Of course not," she said.

He planted his muscular frame next to her, and that made her feel trapped. But she stood still while he said, "Well how am I supposed to know who's going to be the next experiment?"

Now she turned to face him, steeling herself. "Have you been drinking again?"

"Wow. Way to change the subject," he said, and now she thought she detected the hint of a slur in his words.

"Well, I'm not having this conversation while you're drunk," she said, and tried to brush past him.

But he stopped her with his arm and stared her down, his lowered eyebrows a threat. Her breaths came out in tight little puffs, and she looked down at the triceps barring her way and said, "Let me past."

For a few seconds, she thought he was going to trap her in the tiny space within the kitchen, and her arms began to turn to jelly. She trusted him not to hurt her. She thought she did, anyway—he was not the type to beat up on a woman. But her traumatized mind could not distinguish between a real threat and an intimidating action just for show, and she didn't want to know what would happen if she ever snapped when her brain could no longer tell the difference.

But he complied finally, putting his arm down, and she padded into the bedroom, hoping he wouldn't follow her tonight. She wrapped herself tightly in a blanket and waited, listening for every sound from the other room. After hours of hyper vigilance, he never came, and she transitioned into an uneasy sleep.

Part 2.

The pale sun snapped her from her sleep, and she rubbed her eyes, stumbling into the kitchen for coffee. For the first time in weeks, he was not gone yet, and he sat reading his phone while slurping from his cup. He glanced up at her when she slinked toward the kitchen, and his face softened. "How'd you sleep?" he ventured.

"Like crap," she said, trying to act nonchalant even though her shoulders relaxed at the thought that he didn't sound angry.

"Me too," he said gently. She poured her morning caffeine and sat next to him, sipping tiny bits of it while wondering how this conversation was going to go, since he seemed to have woken up less of a grizzly and more of a teddy.

"Look, Liv," he said. "I'm . . . sorry. I don't even remember much about last night, but I know I wasn't exactly Mr. Congeniality."

"No, you weren't," she said, trying to avoid looking him in the eye. If he was willing to apologize, she was at least going to rub in the fact that he was in the wrong last night.

He drank the last few drops and got up to take his cup to the sink, saying, "So, what exactly did I say last night?"

She relived their conversation in her mind, and then smiled, saying, "You were jealous of Amanda."

She caught him snickering secretly while he turned toward her, and he came up behind her and rubbed her shoulders. All the tension drained from her head to her feet and out onto the floor. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly," he said. "You wouldn't do that."

His fingers stopped moving for a second, and he said, "Would you?"

Olivia smiled and said, "She is really pretty." Her eyes widened as she realized it probably wasn't the smartest thing to say right now. She glanced up at his face to see that he had taken it as a joke, just as she had meant it. She chuckled, saying, "Not as pretty as you, though."

Now he caressed the top of her arm, and she purred to herself, closing her eyes to absorb the full effect of his gesture of reconciliation. He sat down next to her and pulled her hand into his, saying, "Please be patient with me, Liv. I'm still trying to work through all this."

She relaxed her mouth and nodded her head. "Okay, I'll try," she said.