A/N: Thanks for all of the great reviews! Here's another chapter...just couldn't keep the thoughts inside. This one's got one bad word and a whole lotta of anger/angst. Hope you like it! Keep on reviewing!

"He took your death hard." Olivia looked at the psychologist, a knowing look already on her face.

"He's mad at me," she said, pushing herself off the couch and rubbing her hands together as she walked over to the large window and leaned against the frame. A light mist fell over the city, tingeing everything a dull grey color and permeating a coldness that seemed to seep into the very bones of the passerby's on the street.

"He's not mad at you," Huang said, "He just doesn't know what to think right now." He too had been shocked when she arrived at his office, requesting a visit with him. Cragen had called, to tell him, but he hadn't believed it until he saw her for himself. "He had just started to accept the fact that you were gone. He just needs some time to think things through."

"Time is something we've never really had," she said softly. The truth was at one point, they'd had a a lot of time. Eight years of it. But both had been so intent on hurting the other to hide every emotion they felt that time had slipped away from both of them and before they knew it, eight years together and turned them into strangers.

"Did you meet someone else while you were away," Huang asked.

"I thought I had," she admitted.

"It sounds like you need some time yourself," Huang said truthfully. She nodded and looked towards him before gathering her purse, slipping her jacket out and thanking him for his time.

It was long past dark when he finally made it home, shaking off his jacket before hanging it up, carefully taking his shoes off and putting them by the door to dry off. It had taken several months, but she had finally trained him to do that.

He wasn't surprised to see her sitting on the couch, facing him when he walked into the living room. She was sitting on the couch, waiting for him. A shiver ran down his spine when he remembered how many times he had picture like that before. This time, it was different. Her hair was long, but back to its original dark brown color. She had lost some weight and her eyes permeated the same sadness that he felt in his heart. The same shadows that haunted his face haunted hers.

Their eyes connected for a moment, and then he began to move around the apartment, grabbing a beer from the fridge, checking the mail, do anything and everything to avoid talking to her, facing her. She would wait for him to talk. She knew he needed to start this conversation. But as the silence began to stretch, she wondered if he'd ever be ready for it. Finally, he sat down on the couch, unable to stand the silence that filled the voids of the room.

"Where did you go," he asked, determined to keep his voice strong and level, void of all emotion.

"Maine," she replied, "A small town near the border."

He nodded and took a sip of his beer, his eyes focused on the metallic label that surrounded the brown glass. "Did you ever think of us," he asked.

"Everyday." Her words hung in the air and yet, he felt his heart fall.

"Was there someone else?" He felt his heart pound as he waited for her answer. Having her alive when he thought she had been dead had been hard. But, knowing that she was alive and in love with someone else would destroy him. He laughed bitterly at something Munch had said that day. There were fates worse than death. He had never known that to be truer than now.

"There was, once," she said truthfully. She knew she would need to tell him everything, if they had any hope of moving forward, instead of backwards.

"Did you fuck him too," he asked, standing up to throw the bottle away.

"Elliot, that's not fair," she said, standing up from the couch.

"That's not fair," he stated, walking out of the kitchen. His arms were crossed; his blue eyes the bright cerulean color they turned when he was angry. Truly angry. "That's not fair? I have spent the last year thinking you were dead! Relieving every moment of what happened that night, thinking what could I have done to save you! And you think me being angry at you sleeping with someone else while I have been here, living with the ghost of you, isn't fair?"

"I didn't have a choice," she said, crossing her arms and meeting his gaze dead on. She was determined to state her side of this mess. "Don't you think I wanted to send a letter or call or e-mail? Don't you think I spent every night of the past year thinking about that night too? I loved you, Elliot. And I still do." Tears filled her eyes as her face turned red. A year apart and they were stilled determined to tear at each other until nothing was left.

"So you went and screwed around with another guy," he said, his voice a deadly calm. That's when she knew that she had hurt him. Really hurt him. She had never known Elliot's voice to be calm when he was angry.

She nodded, her lip trembling as tears fell down her face. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I didn't want to hurt you."

"You did that the moment you separated from me in that alley," he said, his arms falling to his sides. "Because right now, I would rather live with the thought of you being dead, then alive and well, in someone else's arms." His words rung through the air, stabbing at her heart. It surprised her to know that what hurt the most was that she knew the words weren't said out of anger, but out of truth. Without saying another word, she grabbed her coat and walked out the door, not even having the energy to slam it.

Elliot watched her leave and sank on the couch, the tears he had been fighting finally falling down his face. He heard the door softly click shut and closed his eyes. He had fought with her ghost many times over the course of the long year. But not once, had anything felt more real than hearing the soft whisper of the door shutting as she left. A year apart hadn't taught them anything. A year of wishing, hoping, praying and weak attempts to heal the gaping wounds that had been left in their relationship had done nothing but set them back to where they'd been before she left.