Part 7: Wouldn't I Love Just To Rise Above This, Ya Gotta Believe I've Suffered Enough…To Be Free.

Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.

Olivia checked her watch as she yawned, only half-listening to whatever her captain had been saying. As he rattled off case details, her morning played like a bad re-run in her mind, and she tried like hell to forget most of it.

Dawson had pounded on the door at the most awkward moment, and it was difficult trying to give him a plausible explanation of why Elliot had been at her apartment at that hour. Harder still, she had to explain why they both looked like wet dogs, lying through her teeth. She'd asked why the hell he was even there. He'd explained that he'd been told to call her in, but he'd been in the area so he'd chosen to go pick her up. The expression on his face when he saw Elliot there, though, was one Olivia couldn't understand. It wasn't lost on Elliot, either, but they'd both gone with Dawson to the station, anyway.

Since she'd arrived, though, her thoughts were anywhere but on the case, where they needed to be. Memories filled her mind of moments back in New York, of the bus tickets that were still sitting in a drawer at her apartment when she thought she needed more distance, and most persistent, of what happened on the couch before work beckoned. Closing her eyes, she remembered how his hands felt on her skin, the way his skin felt in her hands, the taste of his kiss, the sound of his voice as he cried her name and came. Her eyes closed tighter as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Benson," Dawson's voice carried through the squad room. "You look…you okay?" He cautiously took a sip of his coffee while staring, concerned, at Olivia.

She nodded and opened her eyes, aware that Elliot, too, was staring at her. She attempted to curl the edges of her lips into a passable smile. "So where do we start?" she asked, hoping it was a question that made some sort of contextual sense.

Dawson cleared his throat and looked at Voight, throwing the question his way.

Voight licked his lips and said, "Benson, Stabler, you two catch up with the M.E. Go see the parents. Get us some suspects." He looked at Dawson. "We're canvassing and following the money trail."

Olivia didn't stick around long enough to hear anything else. She grabbed her keys and her coffee and followed Elliot's moving form out of the room and into the hall.

"You're not okay," he whispered to her, deep worry in his eyes. He held the stairway door open for her.

She nodded her thanks and moved a bit faster, not wanting to have this conversation at work. Or at all. "Just tired. We…we didn't get any sleep."

"Hey," he spat, grabbing her arm and stopping her on the landing. "You…you don't regret…what happened…"

"No," she interrupted, her eyes wide now. "No, I don't, I just…" She ran a hand though her hair and exhaled sharply before looking at him again. "I'm gonna say this, because I think…I have to. Just shut up until I'm done, then forget I said a fucking thing until this case is closed, okay?"

Nervous, he nodded. "Okay." His thick bottom lip was pulled under his teeth and he crossed his arms in a way that almost looked defensive, as if he was shielding himself from an oncoming hurt. Maybe he was.

She took a sip of her coffee and took a shaky breath. "Back in New York…you know…you have to know how I…" Frustrated, she gave a soft growl and rolled her eyes. She stomped her foot lightly and held up one finger, forming the words fully before speaking. "I left New York because of you."

"I know that," he told her, his eyes narrowing. "I left because of you. We're even."

She laughed a bit, shaking her head. "I left…because I couldn't stand being in the wings anymore. Watching you…with Kathy, with the kids, seeing her come to the station to bring you clothes or a toothbrush…watching you kiss her goodbye, knowing what would happen as soon as you got home. You always used to ask me why I wouldn't spend holidays with you, or why I wouldn't go to dinner more often."

"You always had a date," he said softly, his stomach clenching in response to what he was hearing.

"El," she sighed, smiling sadly, "It killed me. I couldn't keep putting myself through the pain of watching…everything I wanted with you…knowing it…it wasn't mine." She took a deep, slow breath, suppressing the urge to cry. "Do you have any idea what it feels like? Do you? To have to watch the person you love…with everything you have…love someone else?"

He was silent for a moment. She'd said, whether she meant to or not, that she loved him. The words made his heart swell and skip beats. "Honestly? Liv, I know exactly how that feels."

"Right," she scoffed, and then turned away from him, heading for the door. His voice stopped her immediately.

"Porter, Cassidy…Kurt Moss, Nick Ganzner, Andy Eckerson, and those are only the ones I knew personally," he told her, his voice cold. "Every guy you had so much as a single date with…I remember them all, and it makes every muscle in my body ache when I think about you…and them…" He rushed over to her and put his hand over hers on the door handle.

She looked down for a moment, then back up to meet his eyes. There was a fire in them she'd only seen once before, a long time ago. "El?"

"Don't you dare tell me I don't know what it's like…" he seethed, his nostrils flared, and he pressed himself into her slightly. "Why do you think I got so jealous? So protective? Why I wouldn't make nice with any of the assholes you brought around?" He blinked at her. "It may have killed you to have to sit back and watch me with a family, but damn it to hell, it fucking destroyed me...watching you with everyone who wasn't me!"

She flinched at the gravel in his voice, but stayed where she was, feeling more than seeing him move into her even more. She closed her eyes and inhaled, almost moaning at the scent of him.

"The one time…the moment I do something about it, or think I'm allowed to…" he stopped, not wanting to drag past indiscretions and what-might-have-beens into their present. "That fucking sucked for me, too, but…ask yourself…why would I come out here, leave everything behind, if I didn't…" he let his nose brush hers, her lips quivered against his. "I want everything with you."

She felt his hand work up to the small of her back and hold tight, she felt his hips thrust, and she moaned softly. She grappled with the need to kiss him, but they were at work.

"You wanted to be free," he whispered a hair away from her, the movement of his lips tickling hers. "Well, baby, we're both free now. Question is, what are we going to fucking do about it?" He rolled his body into hers again, hearing her delicious moan again, knowing his cock had hit the perfect place, teasing her. A soft, low moan escaped his throat, then, too, as plans for a night they'd never forget scrawled themselves out onto a mental blueprint.

She pressed her lips together and found the will to push him back a bit. "Work," she croaked out. "We…we have to get back to…"

He laughed. "Now, you know what it's like for me. What it's been like for so many fucking years. I have to work with you, with…uh…certain parts of me not exactly focused on the job." He winked at her and opened the door. "Before we go," he said, a bit more serenity in his voice now. "Answer the question. What are we gonna do about it, Liv?"

"I think your words…" she began, tossing her coffee cup into the small trash can by the door, "Your exact words were…'this is happening'." She looked down at her shoes, as if deciding something, and looked up at him with a discovered determination in her eyes. "So…we let it happen."

He smiled and felt a laugh build in his throat, but he saw the look on her face. "But you're…you're still mad at me, huh?"

She smirked. "I think you can find a couple ways to earn forgiveness, Stabler." She walked out of the stairwell, heading for the morgue.

With a smug grin of his own, Elliot followed, gears already turning, working out how to put his laid plans into action.

Reviews are always welcome.

Peace and love.

Jo MarchCommaJo /Twitter