Part 8: So I'm Officially Leaving, I'm gone.

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.

"Coffee," Olivia mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "Definitely gonna need more coffee."

Elliot smirked at her, the fingers of his left hand curled around a pen, his thumb rapidly clicking the push button over and over. "I'll go get you coffee," he told her. But then he squinted. "Ya know, I can't remember...when you stopped drinking tea and went back to coffee."

She chuckled, but then sighed as a gloom filled her eyes. "Neither can I. It just...happened...I guess. When it got too...hard...it was either coffee or Vodka." She looked up at him, her head turned in a familiar direction now that he was back where he belonged, in the desk across from hers. "Not many people can say they have the power to drive me to drink," she quipped.

He bit his lip as he returned her stare. "It's not an honor, Liv. I never want to be the part of your life that makes you..."

"Benson," Dawson's voice echoed through the squad room as he barreled into it. "What did you get on the vic?"

Elliot failed to hide the contempt in his eyes as he turned to look at Dawson, nostrils flaring in disdain. He sunk in his chair slightly and leaned back, propping his feet up on the desk. If he was going to be ignored, he'd might as well be comfortable with it.

Olivia noticed, and she rolled her eyes at him. "The doc says cause of death is asphyxiation, probably nylon rope. He found ridges in the skin, but no fibers." She cleared her throat. "She, uh, she was a pro. No family to speak of, at least not in the state."

Dawson squeezed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Shit." He let out a hard breath and rolled a kink out of his neck. "Voight was right." He sat on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms.

"About...?" Olivia prodded. She met Elliot's eyes and they shared the silent realization that maybe this wasn't so different from Special Victims after all. She gave him a soft smile and refocused her attention at Dawson.

Dawson scratched at a patch of dry skin on his arm, recalling the conversation. "Voight recognized her when we got on scene. He picked her up a while back," he began. "She witnessed a murder."

"You think she was killed because she talked?" Olivia asked, sitting up a bit straighter.

Dawson shook his head. "Doubt it," he said flatly. "She choked, didn't tell him jack shit. Just sat there for two hours drinking water and counting ceiling tiles." He shook his head again. "The only thing he got from her was an old address and a big 'fuck you.' Told him if she ended up dead it was his fault."

"Well, where the hell is he?" Elliot asked, finally making his presence known. "Maybe he should go down to the morgue and see if it's her."

As if it had been scripted, Voight walked into the room. "Where the fuck do you think I was, Stabler?" he snapped. He held up a file and waved it around. "She may not have spoken to me that night, but she told me everything." He handed the folder to Elliot and moved quickly to his own desk. "She wrote it all down."

Elliot dropped his feet to the floor and sat up straight, opened the file, and read their victim's words. "Hey, uh, Liv?" He handed the file over to her. "Look at the bottom of the page. Does that address ring a bell?"

"That's Saint Anne's. Wait, she was one of Sister Peg's girls?" She looked up at Elliot, then looked at Voight who had found what he'd been searching for in his drawers. "She was from New York?"

Voight tossed the plastic bag in his hand to Elliot, who caught it with ease. He chuckled. "Nice." He pointed. "That's the pen she used. I had no reason to tag it and send it down to the lab, but my gut told me to keep it safe." He sighed, and then cracked his knuckles. "I guess, I knew this would happen."

"What am I supposed to do with it?" Elliot asked. "The M.E already ran her prints, she's not in the system."

"Listen," Voight said. "You still got friends in New York?"

Elliot scoffed. "No," he said sternly. "But Liv does." He reached over and handed her the clear bag.

She took it and ran her fingers over the barrel of the pen. "I can send this out to one of the lab rats back in New York, yeah, but what are they going to find that we didn't? AFIS here is AFIS in New York. It's the same system."

"I want her DNA tested," Voight said, pointing to the pen. "She chewed on the cap. If my theory is right, Benson, she was one of your old victims. Have it run against your unsolved cases."

Olivia shook her head. "No," she said. "No way. I remember every vic we've had," she affirmed. "The first time I've ever seen her was down in the morgue."

"You wouldn't recognize her if she was your vic over a decade ago," Voight told her. "I'm goin' with my gut on this one, guys. Please, for my sake, have someone back east run it."

Olivia sighed and shook her head. "All right," she said as she rose to her feet. "You coming?" she asked Elliot.

He nodded, got out of his seat, and followed her out of the squad room and into the hall, walking with her to the elevator. "We have had a lot of cases, Liv. And Sister Peg used to work with runaway kids, too. Maybe she was just a child...we could have..."

"What did you do, El?" she asked with a slight smile as they stopped in front of the elevator. She hit the down arrow button and looked at him. "You came out here for me, but you brought cold cases with you? First, Richard White turns up dead, now this girl we may or may not have..."

He pressed his index finger over her lips. He couldn't help but laugh at the glare he gave her in return. When the doors opened, he ran his finger gently over her lips and ushered her into the box. As the metal slid shut, he leaned into her and kissed her softly. "We'll figure it out, okay?" He kissed her again. "All of it." He dropped his lips to her neck. "The case," he said, and then kissed along her jaw. "Us," he hummed, moving back to her lips. "I promise, we'll find a groove."

She nodded, turned slightly toward him, and placed a small, sweet, kiss on the end of his nose. "I know." The doors slid opened and she moved first, leading him out into another hallway, heading for the mail room. "Your divorce...is it final? You're officially divorced?"

"Yeah," he said, his eyes furrowed, "Of course, I am. Why?"

She stopped short and turned, and he walked right into her. "Because," she took a breath, "If you came all the way to Chicago for this, and I was still, technically, gonna be the other woman, I'd hurt you. I would kill you, then I'd probably get on another bus. Gone."

He gave her a wicked smile and his eyes darkened. "Liv," he whispered, "You know me."

"Yeah," she said as she rolled her eyes again, "That's why I asked." She gave him a swat to the chest and pulled on his tie, prodding him along.

His eyes traveled the length of her body, hovering over her ass as they walked, and he couldn't help the slight moan that escaped as he nodded in approval. He leaned up against the wall as she walked into the mail room, folding his arms as he watched her fill out the form to send the pen off to a place he'd thought he'd left behind. He took a deep breath and smiled, the night's plans jotting themselves down on Post-its in his mind. The ringing of his cell phone threatened to break his focus, but he was stronger than that. Still staring hungrily at her curves, he answered it. "Stabler," he said almost absent-mindedly.

Olivia reappeared at his side, questions etched into her features as she watched him speak to whomever was on the other end of the call. "Who is it?" she mouthed to him. All she was given in return was a held up hand and a knitted brow.

"Yeah, yeah," he said quickly into his phone. "We're on the way." He snapped the phone shut and looked at Olivia. "Did you know Dawson has kids?"

"Of course," she said, "My first day here, he took me to lunch and told me all about them, why?"

"I...I didn't need to hear that," he said with a shudder, grabbing her hand a bit possessively. "His son just called him; someone dumped a body on their front steps. We have to go." He blinked a few times. "Who the hell is Erin Lindsey?"

"Another detective in the unit," she told him, surprised at how normal it felt to be holding his hand as they walked. "You haven't met her, yet. She's on vacation, why?"

"Oh, no, she's, uh...she's back," he said with a laugh. "And she's pissed."

Olivia's eyes widened. "Is that who called you?"

"Yup," Elliot said, chuckling. He pushed open the doors and tugged lightly on Olivia's hand, bringing her out into the Chicago afternoon. They walked across the road, aiming for the precinct parking lot. He stopped her, though, and he took a long look around. He took a deep breath and the air seemed clearer. The trees seemed greener and the city itself seemed more serene than it had since he'd arrived. "Liv?"

She raised one eyebrow as she watched his lips curl into the most relaxed and genuine smile she'd seen from him in quite some time. "Hmm?" she hummed, giving his hand a squeeze.

He jutted his head toward the food truck to his left, smiling even brighter. "Cream and sugar?"

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped as she realized what he was about to. "You wonderful man," she said with a bite of her lip and a laugh.

He dragged her over to the counter and ordered her the coffee he'd promised her earlier, knowing that at the rate things had been going, she would definitely need it.
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Peace and love.

Jo MarchCommaJo /Twitter