A/N: I know, I know, I've been gone forever. Forgive me. Here's the next chapter.

Elliot sits in a hallway, hands folded in his lap. He's still wearing his fatigues, having come straight from work. Thankfully, nothing crazy was on the schedule today, so they're still clean and crisp. Instead of heading straight home from Pendleton, he drove north to the D.A.'s office in Anaheim. A woman in a skirt and blazer steps out of the office across from him, "Mr. Stabler?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answers, standing and shaking her hand. "Ms. Novak, I'm guessing."

Elliot dragged himself into his living room, slipped off his boots, and collapsed onto the couch. He was exhausted; every muscle in his body was screaming. He let out a long sigh, letting his eyes slide closed.

Not five minutes later, his phone began to ring. His eyes popped open, a frown forming on his face as he stood and picked it up off of the table. "Hello?"

"Hi, Elliot Stabler?"

"Yes?"

"This is Casey Novak from the D.A.'s office. I'm calling in regards to the incident you were involved in at the residence of Olivia Benson."

Elliot's eyebrows furrowed as he leaned against the counter. "Okay. What about it?"

"Are you may know, there are a series of charges being brought up on the perpetrator. I'd like to call you as a witness to the crime."

"You mean testify?"

"Yes, that's the idea."

"Yes," Ms. Novak says. "But please, call me Casey."

Elliot follows the redhead through the doorway into the office. It's a decent size, lit by two lamps: one standalone in the corner, and the other on her desk. They give the room a pleasant, dimly-lit atmosphere. He sits across from Casey in a comfortable leather chair, instantly feeling out of place in his ruddy boots and combat fatigues. The young ADA makes no mention of it, though, getting right down to business. "So, I spoke with Olivia and she told me what happened. It sounds like you really saved the day."

He shrugs. "It was nothing, I'm just glad she wasn't hurt. Who was the guy, anyway?"

Casey reaches into her desk, takes out a photo, and sets it in front of Elliot. "His name is Jacob Ruiz. He's also wanted in connection with five other rapes and murders."

His gaze shoots back up to her as ice runs down his spine. "You mean, if I hadn't stopped him, he would've…"

"It's likely," Casey says gently. "The fingerprints that were taken during his processing matched those found at three of those crime scenes."

The image of her body, beaten and broken, invades his mind and won't fade. It feels like concrete is pouring into his stomach; it's growing impossible to keep his breathing even. If it hadn't been for a nightmare, one of his fucked up combat nightmares… she could have died one of the most horrible, gruesome deaths imaginable.

I should have broken both his arms.

He shoves the photo away from him, slumping back in his seat. When he speaks, the words stick in his dry throat. "Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it."

—-

Elliot takes off his cap as he walks into the courthouse, and pulls at the bottom of his green and khaki service uniform. It's the first time he's ever had to testify in court; Casey told him exactly what's going to happen, but he can't shake the nerves in the back of his mind. He was hoping that he'd never have to step foot in a courthouse.

Olivia is leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest when he reaches the courtroom. She stands straight as soon as she sees his approach. Warmth rises in his chest; she looks amazing in the business suit she wears; it's classy but practical, and it fits her in all the right places without showing too much.

—-

Olivia's heart skips a beat when she sees Elliot walking towards her. His uniform is meticulously pressed, and every ribbon and medal is in its exact proper place. He wears the uniform extremely well; she's never seen him looking better.

"Hey," she greets. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," he answers.

The bailiff comes to collect him in just a few minutes. Olivia slips back into the courtroom and sits down, eager and nervous all at the same time. He's sworn in, and sits down, back straight, hands folded in his lap.

Casey's cross-examination goes quite smoothly, as expected, but once the defense attorney, Malcolm Grey, steps up, things start to get dicey.

"How long have you been in the Marines, Sergeant?" he asks.

"Fifteen years, sir," Elliot answers.

"So it's safe to say you've been in a multitude of stressful situations."

"Yes, it's safe to say that."

"And I'd assume that it's also safe to say that most of your encounters over those last twelve years have been hostile. As in, men wishing to do harm to you and the people around you."

"I wouldn't say most," Elliot says, brows furrowing. Where is he going with this? "But a substantial amount, I suppose."

"I have military records here stating that you returned from your last deployment ended nearly two months ago. Where were you stationed?"

"Ramadi, Iraq."

"Isn't that one of the most troubled areas overseas?"

"Yes."

"So, to recap, you got home from a rough deployment only two short months ago. On edge, from the dangers of what you'd been doing overseas. And you burst into your neighbor's home, where apparently, she's being attacked. Who's to say that Mr. Ruiz wasn't having completely consensual relations with the alleged 'victim'?"

"I know what consensual sex is, and what was going on definitely was not that," Elliot says, his blood pressure beginning to rise. Who the fuck does this guy think he is?

"According to you, whose every encounter for almost a year was hostile," Grey says. "Did you find it completely necessary to break Mr. Ruiz's arm and put him into a chokehold?"

"I did what I had to do with both my and Mrs. Benson's lives in jeopardy. Your client had a knife on him, which he cut me with."

"Or maybe you got overzealous due to your past experiences. That could be entirely possible, couldn't it?"

"Absolutely not," Elliot says immediately. "I know the difference between a friendly encounter and a hostile one."

Grey nods, taking three short steps towards the jury and a long moment of silence before asking his next question. "Okay, then. Your career in the Marines is infantry, correct?"

"A branch of infantry, yes."

"And you've been in for twelve years."

"Objection," Casey calls, "The witness already answered this question. Will the defense move on?"

"I was just doing so." Grey folds his arms behind his back, a smirk forming on his face. "Gunnery Sergeant, do you enjoy your job?"

Elliot's brow furrows. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm inclined to ask the same question, Counselor," the judge says. "What is the relevance of this line of questioning?"

"I'm just getting to it, Your Honor."

"Well, do so quickly or move on."

"Once again, do you enjoy your job?" Grey asks, turning back to Elliot.

It still takes Elliot a long moment to answer the question. "Yes."

"And your job is to kill?"

This time, there's an even longer pause. This was not what he signed up for when he agreed to testify. What does his career have to do with anything? He's praying that Casey will object once again, but there's nothing but silence and the subtle rustles of the audience in the courtroom. Elliot takes another moment to formulate a response, and finally says, "In my line of work, there have been instances where it has been necessary, yes."

"So, by default, you enjoy killing."

"Objection, argumentative!"

It doesn't stop Grey. "You're a bloodthirsty animal!"

"Objection!" Casey shouts, standing. The whole room bursts out into murmurs, and the judge needs to bang the gavel several times.

"Sustained!" he calls finally. "That was out of line, Mr. Grey. I will not tolerate servicemen who risk their lives every day being disrespected so severely in my courtroom."

"I apologize, Your Honor," Grey says half heartedly. "No further questions."

Elliot's hands are gripping the fabric of his trousers so hard that his knuckles are white. It takes nearly all of his self control to not jump to his feet; instead, he remains as still as a statue.

"Redirect, Your Honor?" Casey asks, approaching the stand where Elliot sits. "Gunnery Sergeant Stabler, can you describe once again for the jury what you saw when you entered Detective Benson's residence?"

"The window was smashed open. Detective Benson was laying on the floor, with the defendant laying over her. Her service weapon was on the floor under the table."

"Was she saying anything?"

"Yes. She was yelling for help and begging for him to stop."

"Yelling for help and begging," Casey repeats. "That doesn't sound consensual to me. No further questions."

"You may step down, Gunnery Sergeant."

Elliot takes his cap, stands, and exits the courtroom in quick, long strides.

"Elliot!" Her voice stops him. When he turns, she's jogging after him.

"Yeah?" he answers, thumbing the brim of his cap with one hand as he waits for her to reach him. Without warning, she envelopes him in a tight embrace. Surprised by the sudden, and frankly unexpected, display of affection, he stands frozen for a moment.

"I'm sorry. That lawyer had no business saying that to you."

His free hand loops around her waist and his chin drops into the groove between her shoulder and neck. Warmth spreads through his body; he'll never get used to how good it feels just to hold her in his arms. "I'd do it all over again just to hold you like this."

He lifts his head, and she ducks away to hide the blush that's forming on her cheeks. It doesn't quite have the intended result; he sees it clear as day, and a smile forms on his face. The sting of the lawyer's words are slowly fading. He knows it was just a ploy to create reasonable doubt for the jury, but when it was said, it felt like a punch in the gut.

"I don't think that," she whispers, as if reading his mind.

"I know," he says, giving her a small smile. "Hey, I'm starving. Let's go out to lunch."

She checks her watch, hesitates for a moment, then says, "Alright, I can take an hour before I go back to work." Their strides match as they walk our of the courthouse. He slips his cap back onto his head, adjusts it meticulously, and offers her his arm. He's not quite sure where the gesture comes from; she makes him do a lot of things that he doesn't quite understand. He's afraid she'll reject the gesture, but after a moment, she loops hers through his, and they walk down the step together. Elliot has to admit, it feels great.

Three people come up to Elliot before they make it to his car. She stands back and just observes him, amazed by how he handles it. He smiles, shakes their hands, and when they thank him, returns it with his own thanks. When a little boy walks up with his mother, Elliot squats in front of him, explains his job enthusiastically, and gives him a high five.

When they get in the car, she simply looks at him, amazement in her eyes. He glances at her, a small smile on his face. "What?"

"You were great back there. Taking the time to talk to those people."

He shrugs, turning back towards the road. "It's a beautiful day outside. I know this Mexican food place that's around, what do you think?"

A smile slides across Olivia's face. He always lets the compliments roll right over his shoulders. "Sounds good."

When they reach the restaurant, the waitress guides them to a table outside under the covered patio. After pulling the chair out for her, Elliot sits down himself, and sets his cap down on the end of the table.

"So, what's good here?" she asks.

He points out a few items on the menu before a waiter appears in front of them. Elliot orders a Coke, she decides on an iced tea, and they're left alone once again.

"Thank you," Olivia says. "For testifying, I mean. I know that defense attorney gave you a lot of shit."

"It wasn't bad. Not the first time I've been called a bloodthirsty animal," he says, flipping through the pages on his menu. He then murmurs, "That's kind of mild, actually."

She frowns for a moment. "Really?"

Elliot raises his gaze slowly, and shrugs. "A buddy of mine was sitting in an airport terminal heading to his duty station from leave, this woman walked up to him, spit on him and called him a baby killer."

"Jesus," she murmurs. She finds that unbelievable. Agree with the war or not, people just like Elliot are over there in hell on Earth right now, fighting and dying. How could anyone ever disrespect someone like that?

The waiter appears once again to take their orders, and their food arrives a few minutes later, a quesadilla for her and a burrito with extra cheese, beans and rice for him.

"Let me cook you dinner tonight," Olivia says. "As a thank you."

"I told you, you don't have to thank me."

"I know. But just do me a favor, okay? Humor me."

A grin spreads across Elliot's face. He sits back in his chair, taking a moment to loosen his tie a fraction. Finally, he says, "I can't refuse an opportunity to spend more time with you. What time?"

"Seven?" Olivia says, a smile of her own tugging at her lips.

"Seven it is."

They finish their meals, and Olivia has to return to work. Elliot arrives home around two thirty, changes into a pair of shorts, and goes out to mow the lawn.

—-

Dinner is delicious. Olivia prepares a couple of steaks with mushrooms and onions, which she's learned is Elliot's favorite, and he washes the dishes, much to her chagrin. Afterwards, they're not quite ready to say goodbye, so she pops in a DVD and they sit together. As it turns out, though, they're both more tired than they anticipated. Halfway through, he starts rustling beside her. His arm had already made its way around her shoulders earlier in the night, so when he pulls her gently against his chest, it's smooth and easy. She ends up with her back resting against his chest, his arm around her belly and the rest of her body between his legs.

She's frozen for a moment, surprise and even a little bit of fear washing over her.

"Is this okay?" His voice is a whisper in her ear. Elliot's voice. As the fear starts to dissipate, she realizes how comfortable it is in his arms. He's a shield around her, holding her, protecting her. It's okay. Here, with him, it's okay.

She lets him hold her. His head falls against the back cushions, while hers rests into the crook of his neck.

"I hate you, you know," she murmurs. Her fingers dance lightly over his forearm subconsciously.

"Why?" he rumbles.

"You make me feel vulnerable," Olivia admits. "I hate feeling like that."

His guard is still down, thanks to being only half awake, so he doesn't even think before he answers. "You're not the only one with commitment issues, Liv. For twelve years I've tried my damnedest not to fall for a woman."

If she'd been more lucid, she would have taken that as an insult. She's growing more and more tired, though, so she asks, "What does that mean?"

Elliot hesitates for a long moment before answering. "Means that you're not the only one that's been hurt."

His eyes are closed. His thumb brushes across her hip, and even though it's over the material of her shirt, it still sends a pleasant shiver down her spine. The statement finally sinks in, and she doesn't like the meaning. She's not the only one that's damaged… for some reason unknown to her, the thought angers her. Her hurt, that's one thing. But him… he's one of the last people that would ever deserve that.

Through the haze, an epiphany strikes her. This is how he must feel, if they feel the same about each other. The thought that he's been hurt on the same level as her is nearly unbearable.

"I'm sorry," she says sincerely.

"'S okay," he answers. "Way I see it, we have two options."

"Hm?"

"We could continue to be miserable and alone for the rest of out lives. Or… we could see where this goes."

"See where it goes?"

"Mhm," he rumbles. "I like spending time with you."

"You'll end up hating me."

"Impossible."

His hand is drawing light circles on her stomach now. We're cuddling. He wants to be with me. It's almost too much to handle. How could someone like him want to be with her? "I don't want to be miserable anymore," she whispers.

"Me neither," he says. "I'm happy when I'm with you."

He's good to her. It's such a foreign concept to her, having someone, especially a man, that will be there for her without question when she needs it. "Me, too."

She turns towards him. He's looking quite comfortable, the side of his head resting against the back cushion, and she wants nothing more in that moment than to kiss him. She doesn't have to, though, because he inmates it, guiding her lips to his with a hand on the back of her neck.

Once again, he lets her control it. She's not sure how he's so aware of her needs; maybe it's from their first encounter. Maybe this is just the way he is. Their lips remain locked together for several long, languid moments until she breaks away. His hand, still on the back of her neck, guides her head to rest against his chest. She hears his heartbeat, steady and strong, lulling her closer to sleep. His breathing evens out under her… the idea of drifting off in his safe, warm arms is becoming more appealing by the second. Just for a little while, she tells herself. A little while, and then she'll go into her bed.

It's nearing four o'clock when Olivia finally awakens. Elliot's arm is still wrapped securely around her waist, his breathing slow and even.

"El," she whispers.

"I'm awake," he says, eyes fluttering open.

"Don't you have to get ready for work soon?"

"Mhm," he rumbles. "Just enjoying the moment for a little while."

"Didn't mean to sleep for so long," she says, torn between getting up to head into her bedroom and remaining in the cocoon his arms have formed around her.

Elliot's never not wanted to go to work more. When his internal alarm clock woke him just a few minutes ago, he was sure that Olivia would absolutely freak when she woke up, but she's still in her arms, chest rising and falling with each breath.

"Comfortable?" he asks quietly as his thumb makes slow circles on her side.

"Mhm," she says, burying her face further into the crook of his neck. Her brain is telling her to get up and put some distance between them, but her heart is saying the exact opposite. She wants nothing more than to remain just like this for as long as possible.

She's half asleep when he begins rustling below her. Before she knows what's happening, he's lifted her bridal style in his arms, and is heading down the hall.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"I have to get ready for work," he says, "and you should get some more sleep in a real bed."

"You know, I don't believe you've actually killed anyone," she murmurs as he sets her down and covers her with the blanket. "You're too sweet."

She regrets the words almost as soon as they come out of her mouth, but Elliot just chuckles. "That's what you think. In reality, I'm a highly trained killer."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"You don't want to see it." He presses a kiss to her forehead. "Goodnight, Liv."

"Bye, El."

The last thing she heads is his footsteps fading away before she succumbs back to sleep.

A/N: Thanks for reading. Review for a sneak peak.

Have a great morning/afternoon/evening.

-Stabson