A/N: Hello again! Thank you to those of you who have favorited, followed, or reviewed this story, and a special thank you to my beta, K.E.B.123, for her help and inspiration.

This is the chapter you've all been waiting for: Olivia! Because I haven't directly addressed this, I'd like to mention that this story takes place in fall of 2014 (Season 16), but Olivia has no idea who Noah is, and is not acting as a foster parent to any child. I know this is a bit odd, but trust me, I have my reasons.

I'd like to ask that if you are enjoying this story, could you please take some time out of your day to write a review? I do not want to be one of those people who asks for a certain amount of reviews before posting a new chapter, and I will never do that, but reviews are very motivational, and if you could please take the time to write one I'd very much appreciate it.

If suddenly

you forget me

do not look for me,

for I shall already have forgotten you.

~ Pablo Neruda, "If You Forget Me"

Chapter 4: Nostalgia

Olivia stood in her office, occasionally pacing the length of the small room, anxious. She was waiting for Fin to come back from the lab, hopefully with new leads on their latest case, in which a father was suspected of molesting his young daughter. The father, of course, had refused to cooperate and let the detectives speak with her. It had taken Olivia an hour of threatening the father with legal consequences before he allowed the detectives to even carry through with the rape kit. Everyone knew by then that the father was guilty, and they hoped forensics would make the trial easier for everyone, especially their victim.

Olivia sighed and stopped pacing, before taking a seat at her desk. She couldn't help but think of how her former partner would have handled this case. Elliot had always been sensitive to cases involving children, and she knew as soon as he saw the father he would have grabbed him and slammed him into the closest wall, demanding an explanation. She could picture his face red, vein throbbing, spit flying out of rage, and how she would have to pry him away from the man, who would look, she guaranteed, like a little boy in the principal's office.

Oh, how she could picture that sight.

Elliot.

She missed him so much.

She tried to pretend she had forgotten everything, that his leaving hadn't affected her. She had managed to convince almost everyone of this, and at times she was positive she had convinced even herself.

And then she would remember all of the good memories the two shared: The late nights they spent at the precinct or in front of her stoop, talking. She would remember how they spent hours discussing Kathy and the kids, as well as her numerous failed relationships.

The two of them had always been flirtatious. In fact, she could remember when she had first stepped foot in the Special Victims Unit, he had flirted with her, and then, upon discovering they would be partners, proceeded to pretend that she was far below him. He had acted like he was far more superior to her, simply because she was a woman, a woman who dared to insult his manhood by refusing to submit to his manner of interrogation.

The first time they ever set foot in an interrogation room together, it was as if they were opponents in a boxing match. She had tried to connect with the suspect, feigning sympathy and interest in him, while he had thought it would be far more effective to push him up against the wall and threaten his life.

"Detective Stabler, may I please speak with you outside," she said, as she tried to pull him away from the cowering man about to cry.

He glared at her, trying to intimidate her, but the look in her eyes made it clear who was in control.

As they stepped out of the interrogation room, she turned to him and asked, "Is that normally the way you interrogate a suspect? And you still have your gold shield? Well, that may have worked for you in the past, but I assure you, I won't put up with that bullshit. Not with my job on the line too."

Elliot simple rolled his eyes. "Are you done with your 'hero of the year' award speech sweetheart?" he said, boredom laced in his voice. "Cause, I don't know about you, but I want to put that bastard away for a very long time. How exactly do you propose to do that, oh Miss Perfect Detective?"

She smiled. "Wow, taking advice from a rookie, I see. Old man, I know what I'm doing." With that she sauntered back into that interrogation room, where she emerged with a signed confession fifteen minutes later. Her Captain was delighted, and she ignored the death glares coming from her partner, who believed her one goal in life was to humiliate him.

Olivia laughed, thinking about the expression on Elliot's face that day. He had seemed so lost at first, although he had quickly learned that she wasn't going to put up with his sour disposition, and eventually became almost bearable. At least to everyone else.

To her, he was perfect. He was Elliot. Her Elliot.

Over the years, they had formed a tight bond. Tighter than most people thought was normal. Many had assumed they had been sleeping together, and it pained her to admit that she could see where they were coming from. Hell, even his son had accused her of it.

But he had been married and happy with his life. She couldn't dare act on her feelings toward him, not while knowing the heartbreak that would befall his kids and Kathy, no matter how much she longed to do so.

And then there was the fact that she was certain he wasn't interested in her as anything more than partners, or friends.

So she continued with her pretense of disinterest in him, trying to date other guys that always were scared off by the prospect of an overbearing work partner. That seemed to keep things at a comfortable level.

And then, the shooting.

Olivia could still see the look of horror on his face as he stood over the dead girl's body, unable to believe he had killed someone so young. She had tried to be patient with him, understanding that he needed some time, but she had never suspected that he would actually leave Special Victims, especially without saying goodbye.

It wasn't until her Captain had told her that she even had realized that it had been a significant possibility that she should have been prepared for.

She had tried to pretend it hadn't bothered her, and she had eventually succeeded. It wasn't until William Lewis came along that she even approached the subject. After that, however, she was unable to get him out of her head.

Lewis had made her so dependent on just the thought of Elliot that he was the only thought on her mind for months after the attack. She had dreamed of Elliot coming to save her, and truth be told, her saying Elliot's name in her sleep was one of the main reasons she and Brian decided to break up. He had pretended it hadn't bothered him, but she knew better.

Olivia's thoughts were disrupted by Fin knocking on her door. "Come in," she said, wiping away the tear that had fallen in her reminiscing.

Fin could tell she had been thinking of Elliot. He knew Olivia had taken it really hard when he left, and had been thinking about him more and more, especially after everything with Lewis. "Livia," he said in a gentle voice, "Sorry to bother you, but the forensics just came back on the Brianna O'Neil case."

Olivia nodded. "Thanks Fin. Let's get this son of a bitch," she said, standing from her seat and walking out of her office. She followed him out into the squad room, forgetting everything but her focus on getting justice for the little girl.

Elliot stared at the little girl, who sat on his couch reading the newspaper. She had insisted that she didn't need anything special, asking only for the newspaper to keep herself entertained, feeling that watching TV would be too much of a privilege for her. He had felt so sorry that she viewed herself as such an inferior person, but could not refuse her.

He let out a sigh. He had been thinking of Olivia. How could he not?

She would know how to handle this. She always had. Ever since she first walked into the squad room, she had this aura of power, yet radiated empathy with the victims. And if this girl wasn't a victim, he didn't know who was.

He had pretended to despise that he had to be partnered with this powerful woman. He had constantly tried to pretend that she was below him, but he knew he was wrong.

Not only was she an amazing detective, she was a beautiful person, both inside and out. It had taken him very little time to realize that he was in love with her.

But he was married. With kids. He had made a promise to Kathy, a promise to love her for the rest of his life. Kathy was his wife, and Olivia was only his partner. It was the mantra that she had drilled into his head over the years.

In their years as partners, she had shown no romantic interest in him, so he had tried to hide his feelings best he could. He supposed he succeeded, since she didn't seem to take notice of his feelings, unlike everyone else.

Especially Kathy.

She had gotten so jealous, constantly accusing him of sleeping with Olivia every chance she got. He couldn't understand how she still thought Olivia was so threatening, especially after she was the one who had convinced them both not to file for a divorce. She had also helped deliver their fifth child. But Kathy was always jealous.

Toward the end of his career, he had thought a lot about telling Olivia how he felt. In fact, the day of the career-ending shooting, he had been planning on taking her out to dinner, telling her he was going to divorce Kathy, and asking her whether she felt anything for him. He had been willing to move out of Special Victims for her. In fact, the only reason he had stayed for so long was to be with her every day.

But he knew she couldn't trust him after the shooting. He couldn't take the horror in her eyes. The way she looked at him made him feel like a monster. So he retired.

He had convinced himself that every phone call she had made since then was just a chance to berate him for being such a bad person. A bad cop. A bad friend.

So he had continued to ignore them, and, after a while, they stopped.

Every day he fought the temptation to walk back into the precinct and explain himself to her, but he knew she had moved on.

And now he found himself in a situation where he desperately needed her. He knew he couldn't continue housing the little girl without telling Olivia. She would know what to do.

She could convince the little girl that she mattered, that she was important, that she didn't deserve to be treated like she was being treated. She could convince her to press charges, or to tell them the name of her Master so they could find him and arrest him.

Olivia could show her what it means to be an innocent little girl. Olivia would care.

Olivia would fix this mess.

Elliot picked up his cell phone and looked at the number he dared not delete. He turned when he heard the rustling of the newspaper, and looked at the little girl, who stared at the phone apprehensively.

"You won't tell anyone I'm here, will you?" she asked. "Please don't call the police."

He sighed. "I won't," he lied. He needed to get her some help, and if a little white lie calmed her down until reinforcements came, then it was worth it.

The little girl smiled. "Thank you."

He grimaced before turning and walking into the bedroom. When he was sure she was unable to hear him, he turned his attention to the phone, and pressed the call button.

Olivia sighed as she entered her office, exhausted. They had just finished taking Brianna's statement, which consisted of her telling them what a nice person, and how loving, her daddy was. The little girl just couldn't comprehend the fact that they knew what he had done, and that they had physical evidence of it, so she resorted to protecting him.

She was afraid to send the girl home with her father, but Barba said there was no other choice: They had no complaining witness, and there was nothing they could do to force Brianna into admitting her daddy hurt her. They would try again tomorrow, he had said.

Who knew what the poor girl would go through that night before getting another chance to talk to them?

All Olivia wanted was to go home. As she was packing her things, she heard her phone buzz. She sighed, thinking it was another case that would require them to pull an all-nighter, but noticed it was an unknown number. She thought about ignoring it, but when she remembered the countless number of victims she had given her number to, in case they needed her help, she knew it was best to answer the call.

"Benson," she said into the phone, hoping it wouldn't take long.

Silence.

Not another prank call. "Hello?" she tried again, agitated.

She could hear heavy breathing on the other end, but no one was speaking.

"This isn't funny. Who is this? I will hang up the pho-"

That's when she heard him. The voice she knew all too well. The voice of the man she thought she would never hear from or see again. He was on the other end.

"Olivia, I need you."