This is it folks. You may... or may not be surprised by the conclusion. But this is what I had envisioned happening from the moment I started writing it all out. This was more than anything an experimental piece that gave me an idea what I could and couldn't handle content wise and in the end, I enjoyed writing it even though I was unsure of what I was including sometimes. I hope you enjoyed the ride and please let me know what you thought. I appreciate every one of your reviews, they seriously make my day (even the crude anons who are probably going to insert foot into mouth after this). ;)

PTB


Epilogue

The air is thick yet cool. The moon is bright yet dull. His skin prickles with anticipation yet it burns with guilt. As his eyes close and the miniscule silver gleams of moonlight beats against his eyelids, he takes a deep breath to quell the emotion fighting a gory battle inside of his chest.

His eyes shoot wide open and he can feel the perspiration run down the sides of his face.

He swallows back the temptation, the urge.

His back presses into the soft back of the couch, his legs spread wide open in front of him, his feet plant against the small area rug beneath the coffee table, and his hands haphazardly sprawl out next to his thighs. He can feel every nerve end in his body.

He takes a deep breath and immediately a bright vision flashes before his eyes.

He watches as her breasts rise and fall underneath a solid white tank top.

All it'd take is a light push of his hands against the cushions to propel himself forward and off the couch in the direction of her bedroom door.

He can see her again in his mind's eye. He can feel the heat of her body just by imagining how she feels. He can feel it in the pit of his stomach, he can see it in visuals blurring the lines in his mind. All it'd take is a split second to silently step in her direction and fulfill that temporary itch.

Even knowing the consequences that could very well arise, having seen them play out, he's still tempted. But then he remembers.

He remembers the ache in his chest because of two shadows dancing around behind his closed lids, remembers visualizing her sated body, tangled in the sheets with him, reliving a memory that doesn't exist.

He aches because of the never-ending phantom pains associated with losing everything. He aches because he's not supposed to think about any of this. She's his partner and he's not supposed to be in love with her.

He aches because of his wife.

He lifts her up against the wall, pressing her into the stucco so hard he can feel the way her breaths become labored.

Taking a deep breath, he opens his eyes again, not even having realized he'd closed them, and looks at the clock blinking with neon green numbers on the small shelf next to the television set.

An hour has passed since he stepped through that door and closed his eyes to the intense feeling burrowing deeply in his veins. It still surges against his temples, though his body all the way to his toenails. The want. The need.

His eyes blink drowsily against the dimness of her living room and slowly he realizes the significance of the alternate reality his mind had just conjured up.

The paralyzing ramifications of his thoughts have restrained his body to the couch thus far, but they haven't kept his mind from wandering inside of her room, and into her once more.

He almost laughs at his situation. Everything had blurred into such a grim reality in his mind that he hadn't even realized his feet had steered him to sit in the middle of her couch. His eyes had been closed, his mind cooking up a scenario he never thought possible.

He knows he's been coming here too much. She's been everything he's needed the past few days. Everything he hadn't realized was always there right in front of him.

She'd opened her arms for him, offered him a reprieve from something she didn't really know the details of, his floundering marriage, and decided that he was important enough to let in and comfort.

His chest clenches then because of the thoughts he had just had to siphon off at the core. He can't believe he almost let his dick think for him. He does want her. He wants his partner so badly that he he'd thought up a whole mess of an encounter that she doesn't deserve.

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose and then pulls his ring from out of his pocket, fingering the gold band between his thick appendages before looking his wife in the eyes.

Rubbing a hand down his face in frustration, he takes a deep breath and sits forward on the couch with his elbows planted on his thighs. In an hour's time, he'd thought of pressing boundaries with his partner, pressing issues formerly unspoken, pressing her into the mattress...

Oh Jesus...

He clenches his eyes closed tightly and debates on what he needs to do.

He's this close to his breaking point. And he'd seen what could happen if he steps across that threshold, in technicolor. It'd been right there before him. The act itself. The longing, the desperation, the devastation. Right there in his sub-conscience and he needs to get out of there before he combusts.

He may be able to think up scenarios like that with his partner but he can never, ever act on them like he did behind his eyelids, he vehemently decides. He could never do that to her. He respects his partner too much to ruin what they have. His wife's a good woman and doesn't deserve it either.

He needs to get out of there and clear his head.

A new feeling inside of him fills him with a different kind of tension. It feels like something he's never felt before. It's an overwhelming urge to run and fix things before he comes here again, untied, so he can work with a clean slate with her.

Standing up, he slips his shoes back on and contemplates leaving her a note, telling her that he doesn't need her to stay up late for him anymore, or to keep her chain unhooked for him any longer. But he decides against it and slips carefully out her front door, closing it tightly behind him, locking it from the inside.

He stays the rest of the night in the cribs.

. . .

It's a Friday evening and he's sitting on the couch inside his living room in Queens. His wife sits in the small armchair next to him. They don't speak, they don't touch, they just coexist.

His eyes blink lazily at the soft glow coming from the television set when he hears his wife exhale loudly. Slowly, he looks over at her and she's rubbing her hands up and down her thighs, looking lost in thought.

He clears his throat and once again he's at a loss for words. But it's time.

"Kathy..."

He watches her swallow and bring her intense blues eyes up to meet his. She nods and immediately looks down at her hands. "I know," she whispers knowingly.

"I talked to Father O'Malley."

"Oh?" She doesn't look surprised. but he feels the pounding in his chest intensify when he realizes what he's about to do. It'd been her the first time, now it's him. It's him. All him and she doesn't seem surprised. He swallows as she pushes a blonde strand of hair behind her ear and then looks at him with perceptive eyes.

"Yea. I needed some advice. Kath, the things is... I'm not sure what we're doing anymore..."

"I know," she nods and whispers quietly. "And I'm sorry about the way we've been. But that's not what this is about is it?" He shakes his head no and she nods. "I was expecting this. Just wasn't sure when. I'm glad you brought it up. I think something needs to change."

He watches her reach for the remote and suddenly the room is silent beside the soft rhythms of their slow breathing. A soft yellow-orange glow sifts through the large living room window as the sun sets and he shifts on the couch to look at her, his right leg bent beneath his body.

He's almost too eager to discuss it. To get this settled once and for all.

Swallowing, he leans his head against the arm he has perched on the back of the couch and speaks in a low voice.

"Yea, we need to talk."

. . .

Two weeks later, he's sitting at his desk across from her and they're both knee deep in files pertaining to a case of he said- she said.

Parker Morrison claims her college track coach raped her. Michael Cohen claims it was consensual.

He believes the girl, his partner isn't so sure and that's what baffles him. It's unlike her to side with the accused but she's been off lately. Not like she isn't doing her job, just, not all there.

"The girl has cuts and bruises on her thighs. And the bastard said he'd been with her the night it happened. Come on. I'm pretty sure that's reason enough to hold him."

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. "I just.. I don't know. Normally, I'd be right there with you. But you know how hard it is for actual rape victims to come forward when false reports are taken seriously and then thrown out. I just want to be sure. That's all."

He nods silently and watches her go back to the report in front of her. After she sighs for about the fifth time in that many minutes he looks back up to her and she's staring back at him through the orange glow of her desk lamp.

"What is it?" he asks.

"I..," she starts. Sighing, she adds,"it's nothing."

He watches her again and feels a sudden urge to touch her, to reassure her, so he does. He does in the most innocuous of ways because they've never been good at it, but he does it all the same.

He gets up, sits on the edge of her desk and she immediately stops what she's doing and looks up at him, biting the inside of her cheek.

"What's going on? Everything okay?" he asks.

She nods and then rolls her desk chair back a fraction of an inch. "Yea. But, I could ask the same for you."

He looks down at his clasped hands in his lap and then looks back at her. The way she looks at him with genuine compassion makes him relent internally on trying compartmentalize what's going on in his personal life. He's always thrown a stone wall in between them when she showed too much concern for him.

But he's tired of being this locked up, arrogant, stoic, angry asshole that shuts her out when he really wants to talk to her. He's never understood why he lashes out at her when she's offering herself to him as a friend, an ear. So, he says it. Takes a leap in the right direction in their friendship he hopes.

"We ended it," he says so quietly he's not sure she heard. But he quickly finds out when he hears her desk chair creek and sees her standing next to him after taking the few quiet steps to stand on his side of their conjoined desks.

A few moments pass with her tapping her fingers against the surface of the desk before she takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry."

He looks up at her and nods and smiles sadly. "Thanks. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just didn't want to put my problems on you anymore than I have."

He hears her take a long breath through her nose and then feels the warmth of her palm on his shoulder.

"I understand," she says quietly as she bites the inside of her lower lip. "I do. I'm really sorry."

He swallows and revels in the heat of her palm scorching his skin. He tentatively looks her in the eye and raises his own palm to rest against the back of her hand. It's only a fraction of a second, but he holds her eyes the whole time as he squeezes her hand.

"I'm am too. But, it's okay. Really," he offers a soft smile.

She smiles back at him for a brief second before extracting her hand. A few moments pass and she glances at him from the corner of her eye before sitting back in her chair. "I think it's this case," she later offers him, her words concerning his earlier question on her well-being, he realizes.

It's five words but he understands. He's been stressed over his personal life and her personal life is this job. He knows. "I know," he whispers softly and turns to sit back at his own desk. Before he gets back to the files at hand, she glances up and they catch each others eye again. She smiles at him and he smiles back.

Yes, he knows.

. . .

It's been a month since they closed the Morrison-Cohen case. In the messed up world of SVU, they weren't surprised to find out the coach was guilty. Parker had set up a video camera in her apartment and the bastard had shown up unannounced and tried to silence her from telling them anything else about his and her last encounter.

Needless to say, Parker caught the whole thing on camera and the case had come to a close.

His partner had been glad to have caught the guy but had silently stewed on her own misstep. He had watched her agonize on how badly she had misread the young college student.

Now, they're coming back from a new case where they've just interviewed an old woman living two doors down from where a possible rape occurred. They got nothing from her because she's one step away from being full blown deaf. Plus she's a little dingy.

As they walk into the squad room, it's around eight at night and the buzz that usually permeates the bullpen is unusually quiet. Cragen comes out of his office and walks over to them.

"You get anything from Mrs. Sandoval?"

"No, Cap," Olivia speaks up. "She didn't know her ass from a hole in the ground. I'm pretty sure she should be in a home. Where's her family?"

"Yea, she didn't hear or see anything. I'm starting to think we're at a dead end on this one cap," he adds disdainfully, not wanting to let another case go cold.

Cragen sighs and stuffs his hands into his pant pockets. "Alright you two. There's nothing else for us to really do tonight. We'll continue this tomorrow. Munch and Fin are on call tonight. I'll see you tomorrow at eight. Get going," he nods at the exits.

They both nod, thankful for the reprieve. It's been a long few months for them.

In this time, Elliot's noticed his partner leaving work early on more than one occasion and he has a strong suspicion she's seeing someone.

The thought makes his chest quiver. He knows he doesn't have a right to be hurt, but he is. He's hurt that she's subtly taking control of her own life while his lies in potential ruins.

He and Kathy's divorce will be finalized in exactly one month. Needless to say, he's grateful they never fully got rid of the former documents that almost sealed the end of their marriage years ago. He's thankful for that, yet regretful it has taken this long.

His partner walks over and grabs her keys from off her desk and he has an overwhelming urge to ask her out to drinks.

It's on the tip of his tongue to ask her to come with him because he'd rather spend his evening with her over a beer or two than watch her leave and go home or God knows where while he stews in his lonely apartment.

But, he ask her something else instead. "Need a lift home?"

She looks up at him surprised and then looks down at her keys and then back at him. Sighing, she nods and walks towards him. "Yea," she smiles softly. "Thanks."

He grins lightly and nods towards toward the exits. They leave together but his heart is still on his desk as he realizes the extent of his inability to speak his mind around her.

In front of her building, he turns off his car and glances over at her. She sits silently in her seat and gazes out her window before realizing he's watching her from the corner of his eye. "Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it."

"No problem."

It's silent and she's fidgeting slightly in her seat, but when he looks at her again full on, she's looking him square in the eyes. "Want to come up? I have something that could helps us unwind. I could call you a cab later," she smiles at him.

He thinks about it. He wonders if he should suspecting what he has about her personal life, though he's pretty sure she'd kick his ass for even thinking about it. So he treads lightly. "Sure. As long as you're sure. We still have to be at work early tomorrow. I don't want to keep you up."

She grins. "Not a problem. I won't let you get plastered. You know, I only keep just enough around to take the edge off..." she trails off.

"Yea," he whispers. He does know. He knows and he wants to take it away from her. Take everything bad away from her.

His feelings for her haven't made themselves known for awhile because of all the bullshit in his own life until recently, even now. But, he wants her to take him up to her apartment. He just wants to be near her.

She smiles softly and opens her door. "Tomorrow, be prepared for the glares from Munch and Fin though. They can smell jubilation a mile away. Not sure how though," she grins as she gets out of the car. He smiles and agrees as they walk side by side up her stairs and down the hallway to her apartment.

Just as she's inserting her key into the lock, he has a moment to think about all the times he's come over and she's left the door unlocked for him. He wonders why she did. He knows she's not cold-hearted, far from it, but he wonders what kept her from putting her foot down.

He reaches over and clasps his hand over hers with the key still in the lock. He stops her from turning it and she looks back at him over her shoulder, her eyes catching his.

"Why'd you let me stay?"

"What do you mean?" she asks quietly, a hint of worry in her eyes.

"My life was near shambles and I should have been home taking care of it, fixing it, but I kept coming here to avoid it all. Why'd you let me? You should've kicked my ass out the second time I came. Maybe the first. It's not like you."

She laughs a little and turns her body towards his, resting her shoulder against the wood of the door. "I wasn't going to let you suffer, Elliot. You're my partner, my friend and I knew you needed something, somewhere," she whispers incredulously, but it barely comes off that way. She's staring at him with those dark eyes and he wants to kiss her.

He can't not think of what he'd nearly done the last time he stayed with her. But right here, in her hallway, he wants to grab her and kiss her and tell her she's everything he's ever wanted. But, once again, he turns his face toward the opposite side of the hall and then tentatively turns back.

Nodding, he swallows and lets a small smile graze his lips. "You're a great person, Liv. Better than me." He stops for a second before moving closer to her and he watches as her back stiffens. At that moment he feels the tension roll off of her for the first time and it makes his heart race.

It's that intense feeling, that kind he'd felt with her in the past when their relationship had shifted. He sees her throat rise and fall as she swallows thickly and suddenly the heat in his cheeks and chest and abdomen, intensifies and he has to think quickly. "Thank you," he whispers in front of her face.

He watches her blink slowly and nod her head. "Any time, Elliot. You're always welcome. You're my best friend." She smiles and looks down briefly before looking back to him. "Wanna go in now?"

He laughs softly and nods.

Before the door is all the way open, his phone rings. It's Munch. Off for the night his ass. Their night of taking it easy, easily turns into just another late night of taking the down the worst of the criminals SVU sees.

They forget about drinks and head off into the early evening night to apprehend a suspect who is holding three young girls hostage, girls that he had just raped. It's a long night and Elliot later wishes he hadn't stopped her for small talk in the hallway, he could've used the drink Olivia was so openly offering.

. . .

He's a free man.

Earlier that week, he'd gotten the papers in the mail and had called his ex-wife to talk to her. They were now divorced. It was final. He was a single man. He was free to do whatever the hell he wanted with his free time and he didn't know how to act. He was still getting used to it.

After talking to Kathy, he felt better knowing she was taking it well. It made going out for drinks with Munch, Fin, Hernandez from the 2-8, Rhodes from Homicide and a few of Fin's Narcotic buddies, easier. The only thing missing was his partner.

He'd been so set on going out with the guys and Olivia when Munch brought it up earlier that week. But now as he sits in the booth with a tall pitcher of beer in the center of the table and the guys rumbling off bits of dirty jokes and teasing him about his new bachelorhood, he can't help but drift off mid conversation and think about her.

She'd left an hour before they did with her date. Her date.He was indeed the same man he saw drop her off that night he'd first come to her. He could tell they were still getting to know each other but it didn't make the pain any less searing.

He takes a long swig of his beer and orders another. Hernandez pats him on the back and leans down to whisper in his ear. "How's that partner of yours? Thought'd she'd be here with you." Being the jokester he is, he adds on,"If I was a newly single man, hitting the scene again, I'd be looking after her, you know?" he grins at Elliot.

Elliot smiles, slightly annoyed, before clearing his throat. "She's with a date tonight," he says coolly and then drops the conversation by indicating he'd like to leave the booth. He goes to the restroom and stares at himself in the mirror. He looks aged, older, rougher. He's never noticed before but he's starting to gray at this temples and he doesn't know when he let life slip by him.

He takes a deep breath and replays the cocky cop's words in his head. How's that partner of yours? Thought'd she'd be here with you.

Yea, where is she?, he asks himself.

He lets himself out of the bathroom and tells the others he's leaving for the night and thanks them for the company. They all pat him on the back and say their goodbyes as he heads for the exit.

He leaves the bar and once outside, the humid summer night air hits him in the face as he heads in one direction and one direction only. He's tired, he so fucking tired.

. . .

Being an optimist has never been his thing.

Particularly because of his job. He's seen way too much shit.

But, when he gets to her apartment, he catches a glimpse of her going inside, she's just closing the door behind her. After a few moments, he hears a deep laugh come from behind him.

A couple come from the elevator and he contemplates leaving, expecting Olivia to have her date inside with her. He assumes they're at that stage where they go to each others apartment's now and the thought turns his insides to liquid.

His optimistic side hopes she's alone.

The antagonistic pessimist within him realizes he may be too late.

He takes a deep breath and stands outside of her apartment door, with his back pressed squarely against the wall, and just waits. He doesn't know what he's waiting for. He's always been a glutton for punishment, maybe he's waiting for her to laugh at mystery man or hear her moan or something.

He feels numb as it is, having the whole night to think about her and wonder what she's doing. Maybe actually hearing her do those things will make him feel something else, even if it is fire in his stomach, acid in his throat, an ache in his heart.

Standing still for long minutes, he doesn't hear or see the knob to her door move or rattle until she's staring at him face to face with the door propped open as she leans against the wooden frame.

She stands with a hand on her hip and the other positioned just above her head on the door frame. "Elliot. What are you doing?" she asks softly. "I thought you were out with the guys?" she asks with a concern that underlies the softness of her voice.

He turns his head slowly away before turning back, and he stares at her with what he suspects is tired, red eyes. "You weren't there," he offers honestly.

"Yea," she agrees. "I had plans. What're you doing? How'd you know I'd be here?" she half laughs as the question lingers between them.

"Lucky guess," he mumbles as he turns his head down the hall. Shifting on her feet, she opens the door wider and steps out and that's when he smells her.

"Yea, it was lucky."

"I left early," he says quietly as he stares down at his feet. Why is he here? Why did he feel the need to go to her apartment at all? She could have been gone for hours but he just couldn't think of anywhere else to go.

If he didn't come here he'd go home and he knows more than anyone that that's the last place he wants to be after celebrating being a single man. He just wishes she was a single woman. Maybe this would be a little less complicated... "I don't know why I came... I just guess I wasn't ready to go home," he offers.

"Well... you want to come in?" she asks shyly, motioning her head toward the inside of her apartment.

Elliot's head shoots up and his eyes narrow. "Uh," he clears his throat and then wipes his hands down his pants legs. "I'm not interrupting anything?" he asks slightly incredulous. He didn't think she'd be home alone tonight.

The training in the NYPD prepares you for almost anything, but he wasn't prepared for her to invite him inside tonight. He almost wants to push her inside by her hips and get right to it and admit, that yes, he's wanted to come inside for a long, long time.

But he won't do that. It has to be her. He'll work at her pace.

He's never been one to show his feelings, let alone speak them. But tonight may change that.

Olivia looks over her shoulder, behind her and into her apartment for a brief second before turning back to him with slightly narrowed eyes and a questioning quirk of her lips.

"No, you're not interrupting El."

El.

He doesn't know why the use of his nickname sends a jolt into his step. In an instant, he's brushing past her and into her apartment, catching a whiff of her chamomile and vanilla body lotion, finally putting a name to her magnificent scent.

Once she closes the door behind him, he turns and quirks his brow. "How'd you know I was out there?"

"My neighbor across the hall called and said some man was pacing in front of my door wearing a hole into the carpeting. I thought it was either Shawn or ... You. I mean I don't know anyone else who paces like he's got fire ants up his ass."

He almost laughs until he unintentionally speaks the name out loud. As he follows her to the kitchen, the name breezes past his lips like a sword. "Shawn?"

She stops what's she doing and straightens her back. Standing by the counter with two beers in hand, she looks over her shoulder. "Yea. He was my date tonight."

"Oh," he nods with understanding. "He uh, didn't come back with you?"

Laughing with a small snort, she hands him the beer as she heads out into the living room with him right behind her. She answers with small huff as she plops onto the couch.

"No, Elliot. He's fun, but I think he was more interested in the stock market rather than what kind of uh, dress I had on tonight." She clears her throat and takes a long swig of her beer.

"Ahh, I understand. Why didn't you swing by the bar. We were at Maloney's."

"I was going to actually." She smiles at him from behind the tip of her bottle before sitting it down on the coffee table in front of her. "You didn't give me a chance."

He takes a sip of his own beer before nodding and then walking around, staring at the pictures spaced all about her living room. Some of them are of them, their colleagues, one has her and her mother in it. "I was missing you tonight," he lets slip as he bends down to look at a picture of them taken when it looks like they weren't paying attention. In it, he surprisingly, he has one of his hands on top of hers as she looks at something off in the distance. Probably Munch as she listened one of his ludicrous theories or jokes.

He jolts when he feels her place her hand on his back. "Elliot?"

He turns around quickly and stares down at her. He's a few inches taller than her, with his work shoes still on while she's barefoot and as she stares up at him with her does eyes, dark brown and taunting, he takes a deep breath. "What?"

"I said I was on my way. We could go back if you want. You said you left early. They might still be there. Wait, they didn't leave you hanging did they?"

He lets the beer and the hand holding it, dangle at his side as he just stares at her. "No," he says confidently. Clearing his throat, he turns toward the pictures again. "I actually left them all behind. They were having a better time than I was actually."

"Oh, I see. You sure you don't want to go back?"

"Nah."

"Okay," she acquiesces softly. "Elliot? Can I ask you something?"

The tenderness in her voice makes him turn around and she's behind him, with her arms wrapped around herself. "Yea?"

"You were missing me tonight?" she asks with a small grin.

He huffs out a breath of air as a small laugh escapes his lips. "Yea, Liv. My partner wasn't there with me. How much fun is that?" he asks jokingly.

"I don't know. I'll make sure I don't have a date the next time you get divorced?"

It was meant as a joke, he can tell by the way a smile still lingers on her face, but it hits harder than he expected. Immediately her face looks towards his and he can see the shock of her own words in her eyes. "Elliot. I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"What did you mean?" he asks calmly, curiously.

"Not what it sounded like."

He believes her.

He has no intentions of dating anytime soon. Well almost no plans. He diverts his gaze and changes the subject.

Nodding, he moves toward her until their face to face as he looks into her eyes. "You said you had fun with ….?" he pretends to feign ignorance to Shawn's name.

"Shawn?" she asks. He nods. "Well, yea. He's a nice guy. He knows his way around the city. He takes me to some great restaurants. But he's just..." she stops abruptly when he scoots ever closer to her and he stares down into her eyes.

"I did miss you tonight. Because you were with him," he says breathy, the alcohol giving him all the confidence he needs in the moment without being too drunk to say what he genuinely feels.

"Elliot," she draws out, her eyes glossy and he's not sure why. "What's going on with you tonight? What's happening?" she barely whispers.

In a daze, he inches closer to her even more and slowly takes the beer bottle from her hand and sits his and hers on the coffee table.

When he turns back to her, her eyebrows are already raised and her breath has quickened considerably.

"Don't go out with him again."

"What?" she asks. "I told you….," she trails off, shaking her head, her brown, shoulder length hair grazing her toned shoulders.

"I did miss you tonight. I missed you so goddamned bad," he whispers next to her ear, his own pulse pounding in his ears. "All I could think about tonight was you. All I wanted was you. And you weren't there," he breathes deeply into her hair, the tendrils tickling his lips as he speaks.

She steps back a half an inch and he can see her throat bob up and down as she swallows thickly. Looking at her, he can see the watery drops in the crevices of her eyes intensify as she questions him with a dip of one of her neat trimmed eye brows. "I'm sorry?" she asks as her voice cracks slightly.

"Liv. Please, just don't go with him again," he starts to beg. He knows he's in deep when he feels the need to beg.

"Elliot. What're you saying? What're you doing?" she questions pleadingly as her eyes start to tear up. "You're worrying me," she adds tearfully as she tentatively cups his neck with her warm palm.

He quivers on the inside as he speaks.

"Olivia. I don't know how to say this," he starts as she takes a shuddering breath. "I had a dream. I had a dream where I ruined our relationship. I ruined everything we had and you left me," he offers with emotion in his voice. "I just want you to know, that I'd never do that to you and that I want what's best for you..." he stops unsure if he should finish his thoughts. After a brief pause, he decides to go on, all or nothing. "I want what's best for you, if it's me or someone else. And I can tell, I can tell, he's not for you."

He watches her stand speechless with her hand still embracing his neck, her eyes searching his and her mouth slightly agape. Her other hand visibly flexes and unflexes as she tries to comprehend his words he guesses.

"Elliot," she pleads again, never taking her eyes off of his. "How much have you had to drink tonight?,"she questions him as she sweeps her hand through her hair.

"Not enough if you're about to chastise me," he laughs nervously, reveling in the heat of her hand.

"I don't know what to say," she whispers as she slowly drags her palm away from his neck, letting it glide over his shoulder and upper arm before letting it fall away to her side again.

When she looks up to him with tear filled eyes, he knows he's not the only one feeling this, this thing between them. Her eyes bore into his for the briefest second before she licks her lips and turns her eyes away again.

"You don't have to say anything, just don't let yourself think I'm not sincere about this. I don't just make this kinda stuff up, Liv. You can at least say you believe me," he whispers hoarsely, his voice threatening to give out on him.

When she looks back to him, her dark eyes latching onto his, the moisture threatening to pool over causes his resolve to completely and utterly disintegrate at her feet when she answers, all of her feelings seeping through her pores.

"I could never doubt you for a second," she whispers in a tear filled voice.

In an instant, he has his hand on the back of her neck and the other on her waist as he pushes her timidly towards the wall next to her window.

Without any lights on in her apartment besides the soft glow coming from the single standing lamp, the aura around them sends chills down his spine.

The setting is perfect; it's sensual and erotic as he presses her against the wall.

As he looks down at her, he enjoys the feeling of her hands gripping his sides with her warm palms and her flesh, smooth and real as he grasps her neck gently.

"I want you," he grates into her ear as he leans down and gently kisses her earlobe. He feels her physically shake in his grasp from the contact as her breathing hitches. "I waited so long, Olivia. I waited even when I didn't want to. When I wanted to just grab you and ask what you were offering. But you mean so much more to me than that, so I waited. Please tell me it wasn't for nothing," he breathes thickly into her hair.

He feels her dig her fingers into his sides and that's when he looks down and tries to gauge her reaction, her thoughts, her feelings.

When his gaze locks with hers, he's shocked by what he sees.

She's crying. Silently, but the tears are rolling down her cheeks and down her neck. "Olivia?"

She cries softly into her hand. "I've waited too," she whispers through her tears. "I'm sorry, this is so... I'm surprised is all," she offers shakily.

"What?" he asks softly, not completely understanding but hoping she means this moment is as big as he'd always imagined.

"You. Just... you. Everything you do is so ... I can't imagine feeling this way with anyone else. You're so intense. So full of love, so full of life and I can't shake it. I want more of it, Elliot," she whispers, staring at him with her glossy eyes, pleading with him to give her that much.

He understands and he wants her to understand the full extent of his feelings for her.

"Olivia," he starts, trying to sound as calm and collected as he can. "I know what I'm saying. I just want you to know, you're all I think about when I go to bed, when I stare the ceiling, when I dream. You're everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I don't know why I decided tonight was the time to lay this on you but I couldn't wait anymore. God knows, I suck at sharing my feelings, but here I am. I just want you to know I care about you so damned much and I just want you to be happy." There, maybe giving voice to what's been swirling around his mind for so long will take the stress off of admittedly confessing he wants her so goddamned bad it hurts.

"I am happy," she smiles through tears. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He lets his breath go and silently slinks away into himself. She's happy. He's glad. He's glad because he doesn't know what to feel anymore. She doesn't really need him but he's here when she does. It's all he can do for her now.

"I'm glad. Really. Olivia. You deserve to be," he whispers into the gray dimness and only now does he see the tinges of silver and gold from the street lamp down below her window he was too distracted before to see.

After a moment more, he nods. He swallows and starts to pull back. When he does, he feels her hands move from his sides and clamp down on his forearms.

"Where're you going?"

"I don't know," he shakes his head because he doesn't know. He feels lighter for finally telling her. But he doesn't feel one hundred percent relieved.

"Stay," she whispers between them. "I want you to stay dammit."

"Why," he asks looking up.

"Because. You're standing in my living room. Telling me these things you feel. You're a free man, Elliot. You can stay and I want you to. Don't you realize I'm happy with you right here?," she whispers with intensity.

He takes a deep breath and stares at her few moments, his eyes locked on hers. "You sure?"

"Any way I can have you."

Her voice sounds like a gentle melody that sends a sense of calm throughout his body. Their meaning so much more than he could ever ask for from her and it makes him weak.

In three quick steps, his skin is on hers again. He presses her back against the wall and hoists her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. Both breathe heavily into the confined space between their bodies before either speak. Ever cautious, as he's been for the better part of their relationship, he gently lifts his fingers and swipes her hair from her eyes, which are still wet and swollen.

"Kiss me," she orders him softly. "I want you to."

He stares her in the eyes and hesitates for a brief second before he sees a light flicker in the glossiness of her brown eyes. Want. Need. After that, he doesn't need to be told twice.

He presses his lips against hers tightly, and doesn't breathe the entire time. He moves his hands up and cups the side of her head, his pinky fingers gently grazing the nape of her neck as she starts to move her lips against his.

Olivia opening her mouth to him has never been so appealing he thinks. He gently opens his own and breathes her in as she laves his bottom lip with her tongue.

Their mouths move against the other for what feels like hours. His hands glide up and down her arms, her sides, her cheeks, her neck and he feels her manicured nails trail over his own body, sending shockwave after shockwave of pure heat through him as she cradles his form against hers as he holds her up against the wall with his waist.

It's pure fascination with each other that keeps them tangled against the wall, it's an exploration of a treasure they've always been able to look at but never touch before. Their lips on each others lips is like a song he's never known all the words to until now.

He feels everything coming together as the softness of her lips touch his own and after the dreams he's had of her filter in and out of his brain, he realizes nothing could compare to the feeling transforming him right now.

He revels in the feel of her pulling his bottom lip in between her own and soothing it with her tongue. She moans into his mouth when he runs his calloused hands beneath the back of her shirt and he compartmentalizes that sound for the future.

He immediately feels her skin prickle with goosebumps and it makes him wild. Before he knows it, he's holding her head still with his palms.

Hesitantly, he pulls back and they both gasp for breath. "Olivia. I'm not perfect. I don't know what the hell I'm doing sometimes, but I know one thing for sure. I've always known you. Needed you. And right now...this... this is all I need. To be here with you."

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, shuddering in his arms and then lays her head against his shoulder. "I love everything about you. Please don't change for me." She smiles up at him and runs her index finger down his chest and then nuzzles her face into his neck.

"I'm glad you feel that way," he laughs softly as he pulls her from the wall and carries her to the couch after sitting with his back against the arm of the couch and letting her body relax ontop of his "Are you worried?"

"About?"

"Us?"

"Sure. We have so many things to figure out. But to be honest, I don't care right now. I could care less if the apartment was burning down around us."

"Oh, so you'd jump through fire with me, then?"

"Only if you do the same," she laughs softly into his chest.

"Well, we'll see when the time comes," he laughs jokingly and kisses the top of her head.

She rises slightly of him and narrows her eyes at him before lightly smacking his chest. "You ass," she grins.

"I know."

"You are."

"I know."

She laughs. "Elliot. I know this is something new and exciting for us. But what about work?" she ask more quietly.

He hesitates for a few moments before he takes his thimble fingers and places tiny strands behind her ear, one at a time, before answering. He's always thought of this job being his way of protecting children and women.

It was his way of knowing he was keeping his family safe. But with Olivia, he knows the unit is her life. Her passion. He still has his kids, but they're all grown with the exception of Eli. And he'll always be around Kathy in some form but she's not the center of his world anymore.

It hits him with instant clarity.

"I'll take coming home in the pitch darkness of night, weary from head to toe, hoping like hell I don't get called in on the way home, if it means I'm coming home to you every night."

She's silent for a few minutes, then he feels her release a deep breath.

"I don't know if I'm ready to end our partnership. I'm not ready to leave SVU."

"Okay... We can see if Cragen will switch us up with Munch and Fin."

"I don't know. I don't want to do that to them."

"I guess it'll be another one of those, 'We'll see when the time comes,' kind of things."

"Yea, I guess."

"We'll figure it out."

"Yea."

She turns her head inwards and kisses his clothed chest before moving her body up his. She gently wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him, long, hard, deeply, and contentedly. He sighs inwardly when she moans into his mouth as his hands slip under her top again and scrape his short nails down her soft back.

Breaking away from her kiss, he lean his head back and just feels the way her lips skim down his chest over his t-shirt. He feels a small smile tug at his lips as she fists his fabric in her hands. She continues to lay light, playful kisses against him, when he speaks.

"Olivia?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you go on a date with me?"

Silence. Then suddenly a loud boisterous laugh escapes her lips and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. He looks down at her and she's staring up at him with a glint in her eye.

It's not perfect. It never will be. But being with her, having her next to him for this part of his life will be what makes this chapter radiate in significance above the rest, next to the births of each of his kids.

His kids will visit, they'll have to get used to him bringing Olivia home every night, or most nights. He'll have to adjust to Olivia's insecurities in relationships, being around his kids who may or may not accept everything in their mother and father's new lives.

He's been tempted to tread down that road of destruction. He's fought against the best of his demons when it comes to Olivia and his life. But knowing after everything he's been through, that she still wants him, he realizes one thing. Their relationship will not be rainbows and butterflies, they'll butt heads, they'll fight, they'll make up and they'll do it all over again.

But they'll work. They'll always find their way back to one another.

He's going to fight like hell not to fuck this up with her. She deserves more than him and he'll forever fight the fight to be enough for her.

All he knows in this moment as she breathes against him, drifting off into the sleep that's threatening behind his own eyelids, is that you won't know what the best in life can bring unless you fight to find the right path and listen to your heart.

But most importantly, he's learned that magnificent opportunities come to those who wait.

She'll always be worth the wait, he realizes as he gazes down at the top of her head as she breathes softly in her slumber against his chest.

I love you.

finis.