A/N: I know, I'm a couple days late with this one. I've been so busy with university finals and work that I can barely write, let alone publish. Good news, though, I'll be done in a week! :) This chapter is a bit longer than the others, just think of it as a sorry for making you guys wait and a thanks for being such dedicated readers. To those wondering what happened to Liv, don't worry, you'll find out soon.

Special thanks going out to Moonstruck, Paperframes, LaceNLeather24 and The Congressman. You guys are awesome.

The first time Olivia walks into Anaheim's police department, she's nervous as hell. She's dressed for success, a pair of gray pants, comfortable boots and a short-sleeve light blue button-up, but that does nothing to make her feel more confident. It's her first day on the job, and she knows no one. She's only had a few short conversations with Sergeant Rob Conklin on the phone.

What if they know about what happened in New York? What if they don't want me watching their backs or handling cases? What if they think I'm not up for the job?

If they didn't think you were up for the job, they wouldn't have hired you. You're going to do fine.

The bullpen that she walks into is busy, but not nearly as busy as the ones she's seen in New York. It works out well, she thinks. After everything that's happened, she isn't sure she can deal with Manhattan's hustle and bustle.

"Can I help you?" A man walks up to her, dressed in his own button-up shirt and a pair of black slacks. He has medium-toned skin, brown eyes and black hair cut short and neat. There's a gun and a badge at his belt.

"I'm just looking for Sergeant Conklin." She says. "Do you know where I can find him?"

"You're the new detective?" He asks.

"Yeah, that's me."

The man approaches her, holding out his hand to shake. "I'm Raul Vasquez. I'm gonna be your partner."

"Olivia Benson." She greets, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too. The Sarge is right through that door." Raul points to the door at the back of the squad room.

Sergeant Conklin is an older man with graying hair. He wears a white dress shirt and his tie is loosened slightly as he works on paperwork.

"Welcome to Family Crimes, Detective Benson." He greets, smiling. "Have a seat, there are a few things I'd like to talk to you about before we get started here."

Olivia sits across from the sergeant, trying her best to keep her nerves in check. She's excited to get started, but she's also more nervous than she's ever been. She needs to show what a great detective she'll be.

"I've seen your record in New York, and I have to say, it's pretty impressive. I'm looking forward to seeing you work."

"Thank you, sir." Olivia says. "I'm excited to get started."

"That's good to hear. Family Crimes is one of the tougher details here in Anaheim, with the nature of our cases. I'm sure you're aware of that."

"Yes, I am, but I'm ready to handle it." She says firmly, determined, ready to prove herself and make a difference. She's not the same cop that she was before she left New York; she's stronger, better, and she's ready to show her new captain that.

Conklin looks her over for a moment, as if he's sizing her up. She knows he's analyzing her words, to see whether she really means them or not. Finally, he speaks. "I always like to get to know my detectives, it lets me know if they're going to last longer than a couple weeks in this unit. A lot of them have personal reasons for being here, and that's what makes them so passionate. So, Olivia, why are you here?"

She takes a deep breath. "I do have personal reasons for being here."

He's silent, waiting for her to speak. She doesn't know if she wants to. It's not something she talks about with anyone. Finally, she thinks, if these people really deal with crimes like this every day, sharing her experiences with her mother won't be that bad. If this man is going to be her sergeant, she needs to be as honest as she can with him.

"My mother," she begins, her voice soft, "was raped thirty years ago. I'm the result of that rape. She never really dealt with it, and when I was growing up… we didn't really get along."

She hopes he knows what she's trying to say. Apparently, he does, because he doesn't push the issue. Instead, he says, "Can you stay focused and objective on the cases at hand, with your past?"

"Yes." She answers immediately. It's going to be hard, but she's confident in her ability to put aside her personal experiences and do what she needs to do to get justice for the victims. "I know I can do this job."

He seems to be satisfied with her answers. "Well, Detective Benson, it sounds like you're ready to get started. I think you're poised to do some pretty good things in this unit. I'll introduce you to your partner."

Olivia follows him out into the bullpen, where the activity has yet to die down. Detectives bustle about, working on cases, taking statements, working diligently. She's done her job in learning the structure of the department, and she knows that it's quite different from what she left in Manhattan. In the Family Crimes Unit, there are seven detectives, commanded by one sergeant, Sergeant Conklin. It's definitely a smaller department, and she appreciates that.

"Detective Raul Vasquez, meet your new partner, Olivia Benson," Conklin says.

Raul stands, smiling. He has pearly whites, and she has to admit, he's quite handsome. She worked with Special Victims Unit detectives back in New York, a unit comparable to Family Crimes, and Raul doesn't have the same haunted look in his eyes that some of the SVU detectives have. If she has to work with someone, she's happy that it's him. "We already met, actually. I'm excited to start working with you, Olivia."

Conklin turns to Raul. "Show your new partner around."

—-

"So, where are you from? Cuz I know you're not a native Californian," Raul says as they sit in the car. The windows are rolled down, and a nice breeze blows through the vehicle.

"I'm from Manhattan," she says simply.

"Ah, a big city girl. What brings you out here?"

Olivia shrugs, turning to look out the window. Anaheim is an entirely different world from where she grew up; palm trees replace an abundance of tall buildings, the roads are nice and clean, and a median of freshly cut grass separates lanes of oncoming traffic. "I got a job out here. Wanted to get out of the big city."

Technically, it's not a lie. She did want to get out of the city, and she did get a job out here.

"What made you choose FCU?"

"What made you choose FCU?" Olivia fires back.

Raul shrugs, choosing to ignore her defensiveness. "I have a little girl, she's two years old. I can't imagine anyone wanting to hurt a child, especially if it's their own. I joined because I wanted to stop that from happening, for as many children as I can."

Olivia nods. Raul seems like a good person; she can tell she's going to enjoy working with him. It definitely takes away a lot of her nerves.

"So, are you gonna tell me why you decided on this unit?"

She shrugs. "I'd like to stop it from happening, too."

They stop in front of the hospital, and Raul turns off the car. "Well, it looks like we're going to get along, then."

Her first case absolutely sucks. The victim is an eight year old named Carlos Santiago and someone takes pleasure in beating the hell out of him on a daily basis. No matter how much she and Raul tried to coax a name out of him, Carlos remained tightlipped.

"Don't get bent out of shape over it," Raul says as they start to drive back to the precinct. "These kids usually have a hard time admitting what's happened to them, especially when someone close to them's done it. It takes a lot of work to get them to open up."

Olivia nods. She knows more about this than he thinks. "Yeah, I understand."

Her partner remains wordless as they drive back to the precinct. She's glad he doesn't try to fill the drive with words; he's real with her, and she appreciates it. We're going to work well together, she thinks.

—-

Elliot's truck doesn't pull into the driveway tonight. It's been a full week since Olivia started at Family Crimes, and nine days since that day on the pier. They've shared numerous short conversations since then, and he'd had her over for another dinner early in the week, where he grilled chicken kebobs. After that, though, she's been seeing less and less of him. He comes home later, and barely speaks with her. Olivia's afraid she's scared him off; she's been enjoying the slow dance they've shared. She doesn't want to give it up.

It's Friday night, she's off tomorrow, so after a quick dinner of leftovers, she sits outside with her book. Brutus, who had been laying outside on the patio, bounds up to the black chainlink fence that separates their properties and jumps up on it, tongue sticking out of his mouth. Smiling, Olivia approaches him.

"Hey, boy." She greets, petting his head. "Where's your master, huh?"

She doesn't know how, but it looks like Brutus has a knowing look in his eyes. His tail stops waging, and he plops back down on the grass. He doesn't look like he's going anywhere soon, so she turns to her book and continues reading.

It's dark out when Olivia decides to head inside. Brutus lays next to the fence, curled up, watching her. His head perks up when she gets up, and she almost feels bad for leaving him out here. He must be lonely over there all alone. As soon as she opens the door, he gets up, bolts back to Elliot's place, and slips inside through the doggy door. Shrugging, she heads inside.

The next morning, Elliot still hasn't returned. Olivia heads to an early morning kickboxing class, showers, waters her garden, and then heads back out to go grocery shopping. In the evening, a dark blue vehicle pulls into the driveway next door, and a man goes inside. He must be here to take care of the dog, Olivia thinks. Which means Elliot won't be home once again. She wonders silently what kind of work he's doing that he can't be home for several days. Training? Preparing for war? She recalls that she never even asked him if he still deploys.

The man leaves fifteen minutes later, and Olivia heads out back to spend another evening with her book.

—-

Around five o'clock in the evening the next day, the gray truck rolls by. Olivia looks up from her book, and watches as he pulls into the driveway. She watches as he gets out, wearing a pair of fatigues and looking more rumpled than she's ever seen him.

"Hey!" she greets, heading over to the truck. When he turns towards her, she sees bags under bloodshot eyes, dirt on his face, and more stress lines than she remembers.

—

Elliot's been awake for so long he's starting to see double. He's lost track of how long it's been since he's slept, and just standing in front of his neighbor, his muscles are screaming. After twelve years in the Marines, eight in Recon, it's a feeling he's used to, but not one that he can stand any better than on day one.

"Hey," he greets, his voice raspy. He leans against the truck to stay standing.

"You look exhausted," she comments, her arms crossing over her chest.

He shrugs, and instantly regrets it. His shoulders burn. "My unit conducted a forty-eight hour patrol. I haven't slept since… Thursday."

"No wonder you look like Death."

"I'm gonna go inside and sleep the sleep of the dead," he rumbles. "But hey, want to come over for dinner tomorrow? I've got these real nice steaks in the freezer, I've been waiting for a good time to cook them."

"That sounds great," she says. "But you've already cooked me dinner twice. How about you come over my place, and I'll cook for you?"

He smiles despite the exhaustion. Maybe he's just tired, but it seems easier to convince her to do things with him. He knew he'd be able to get through to her at some point. "Alright, I guess I can live with that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go pass out."

He gives her a smile, a pat on the shoulder, and heads inside. As soon as he closes the door, Brutus runs up to him, and jumps on his chest, panting excitedly. The marine groans, and stumbles backwards. "Out, out."

Brutus drops off of him as quickly as he jumped on, sorrow in his eyes.

"Sorry, buddy. I can barely stand on my own," he says, his back screaming as he leans down to give the dog a pet.

His pair of grungy fatigues go into the laundry, he takes a quick shower, and collapses into bed. He feels the mattress dip as Brutus joins him, curling up into his side and giving him a quick lick. Usually, Elliot's more strict with the rules, but he's too tired to discipline. Instead, he rests one hand on Brutus's silky coat, and passes out.

Elliot's wearing a pair of black shorts and a black and gray Marine Corps polo shirt when he knocks on Olivia's door. Thanks to a long sleep and a not so busy day on base, he's feeling much better than the last time she saw him.

"You're looking better," Olivia greets when she opens the door. "Come on in."

"Thanks," he says, stepping inside and taking a look around. The house looks almost identical to his, but with a more feminine quality. There are a few frilly pillows on the couch, and flowers sit on the breakfast bar. He immediately notices the striking lack of family photos around the place. My mom wasn't all that great to me, either. He wants more than anything to ask what she means, but he bites his tongue. If she wants him to know, she'll tell him.

"Can I help?" he asks, watching as she stirs something in a pot on the stove.

"Sure, you can help yourself to the drinks in the fridge," she answers, glancing at him with an impish look on her face.

Elliot eyes her, trying not to break out in a smile. "I guess I should expect that." He never let her help after inviting her over, after all. He should have foreseen her unwillingness to let him work.

He opens the fridge door, grabs a bottle of water, and leans against the counter, watching her. "How was your first week of work? What you thought it would be?"

"Sort of," she answers, turning towards him. She looks beautiful tonight, like always, in a pair of gray slacks and a short-sleeved blouse. He immediately feels underdressed in his shorts and shirt. As if reading his mind, she says, "I'm still in my work clothes. Don't feel underdressed."

A smile comes across his face. "Who said I feel underdressed?"

She shrugs, going into the fridge for her own bottle of water. "I am a detective, remember? I can read people."

"I'll have to keep that in mind."

They share a laugh, and Olivia turns the burner off. "I hope you like Mexican. I found a recipe for this chicken and I had to try it."

"I'm not picky." He assures. "I'm sure it'll be great."

"We'll see."

—-

Olivia watches nervously as Elliot cuts a piece of chicken, and pops it into his mouth. She's never really been much of a cook, but after he cooked her such great meals and even took her out for lunch, she wants to do something to repay him.

"Mm," he says, nodding as he swallows. "This is great."

She smiles, taking a bite herself. "Good."

The meal is good and their conversation comes easily. Elliot tells her about his week; he's been swamped at work with training, and everything came to head with the forty-eight hour patrol. She shrugs it off, saying that she's been busy herself. She doesn't want to say that she's missed his presence over the past few days. They've only known each other for a week, after all, and they're only neighbors. What could she possibly miss?

It's harder than she hopes to convince herself that. She enjoys being with him. She wants to spend more time with him.

"That was fantastic," Elliot says, stretching as he leans back in chair. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," she answers. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

He takes her plate, places it on his, and brings them over to the sink for her. She watches, shocked for a moment, as he takes it upon himself to start washing them. "You know, part of the reason I invited you over was so you didn't have to do that."

He shrugs, glancing at her. "You cooked. I wash the dishes. It's only fair."

"You didn't let me wash the dishes when you cooked."

He's silent for a moment as he places the first place on the drying rack. Finally, he says, "Well, I guess I'm just a nice guy. I can't sit and watch you do all the work."

She shakes her head. She's been on plenty of dates, she's cooked dinner for previous boyfriends, but none of them had ever taken it upon themselves to help with the cleanup, even after dating for a few months. She's slightly amazed by this man. Wait, this isn't a date… is it?

You know you want it to be. You know he wants it to be.

I can't do this. I'm not ready to date, I can't ruin what I already have with him.

"There, all done," he says, breaking her out of her trance. He's leaning on the counter facing her now, drying his hands off with the towel that had been sitting on the countertop. His hands are battered and scarred, no doubt from his years in the military, but she wants to reach out and hold them. Would his touch be rough and hard, or soft and gentle? Maybe a little bit of both, she thinks. He's a hardened war fighter, but over the two weeks she's known him, she hasn't seen a violent bone in his body. If he didn't come home every day in his fatigues, she wasn't sure she'd believe him.

"Hello? Olivia?"

"Hm?" He's standing in front of her now, a confused look in his face.

"Thought I lost you for a minute, there," he says, grinning. "I said, I'm having a great time hanging out with you."

"Oh. Me, too," Olivia answers. "Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for inviting me." He suddenly looks nervous. He fidgets for a moment, then takes a deep breath, focusing on her. "Listen, I, uh… I was just wondering if… you know, I've had fun going out to the pier and everything, but… would you like to go out to dinner with me? On a real date?"

Her heart flutters. She wants to say yes, God, she wants to go out with him. From what she's seen, he's a great guy, funny, caring, outgoing. Not to mention, she knows he has his shit together. She can't imagine a better partner. Don't do this. You're gonna mess it up, he's not going to want anything to do with you. She tries to silence those voices, but it's impossible. She's damaged goods, and as soon as he realizes it, he's not going to want anything to do with her. She can't let herself go through that.

She takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Elliot, you're a great guy and everything, but… I just don't want to make things complicated between us. I think it would be better if we just stayed friends."

She sees him deflate, and her heart breaks. She's hurt him. She's led him on, and then dropped him like a hot potato when he finally worked up the courage to ask her out. What kind of person is she?

He does a good job in trying to hide his disappointment. He takes a deep breath, and nods, dropping his gaze. A forced laugh escapes from his lungs before he speaks. "Yeah, you're probably right. Sorry, I guess I just…" he gestures between them, "read this wrong."

No, you didn't, she wants to scream. It's not you, Elliot, it's me.

He checks his watch. "Listen, I should probably go. Gotta wake up at four tomorrow." He gives her a small smile. "Thanks for dinner. It was great."

"Elliot," She calls as he makes it to the door. He turns, and she says, "I really am sorry."

He waves her off. "Like I said, you're probably right. I'll see you around."

The door closes. Regret drowns her. What did I just do?

—-

Elliot locks his front door, slips off his shoes, and immediately heads for the bathroom. He yanks his shirt over his head, then splashes his face with cold water before he finally allows himself to think. What went wrong? I thought everything was going fine, I was sure she'd say yes. She seemed interested.

Of course a woman as beautiful as her isn't interested in someone like you. You're good for inviting over for dinner, going out for walks, not any sort of committed relationship. Who would want to deal with your crazy schedule, your deployments?

Brutus approaches him, panting. Elliot kneels down to pet him. "Looks like it's gonna just be me and you forever, bud."

A/N: Please don't hate me... lol. Don't worry, Elliot's not gonna give up that easily ;) Review for a sneak peak, and an answer to whether Olivia will change her mind or not!

Have a great morning/afternoon/evening!

-Stabson