As Olivia entered the squad the next day, Fin was walking out of her office with a scowl on his face. "There's a delivery in there for you," he said, motioning with his thumb back toward her door.

Olivia stopped walking and looked up from her phone, both surprise and curiosity splashed across her face. "Oh, who from?"

Fin scrunched up his face in disgust. "You know who."

Olivia finally stepped into her office and saw a vase of colorful peonies on a corner of her desk. She sighed heavily as she cautiously removed the card and read it.

I'd rescue you any day - Captain America

The smile consumed her before she had a chance to suppress it. The flowers were beautiful and the sentiment light. Elliot claimed to not have all the right moves. But the ones he'd made on her body last night and this gesture now told a far different story. It had taken them nearly 17 years to make love. And last night she had tried to keep it from even being that. She wanted to believe it was sex, good sex between two people who'd been lovers in every other way.

She used no emoticons or affectionate words when she texted to thank him for the flowers. Just a sincere thanks for his sweet gesture. She hoped he'd get the message. No such luck.

You're welcome, his text read. And next time, let's try the bedroom.

Next time.

There couldn't be a next time. It couldn't be a habit, and it couldn't lead to a more complicated entanglement.

She simply didn't respond, in part because she didn't have an answer and in part because a case-related phone call sent her day in a different direction and left no more time to analyze her night with Elliot.

Other than thanking him via text, she avoided taking his phone calls for two straight days. She wasn't sure what to say to him and was putting off the obligatory "morning after" conversation as long as possible. She also knew he'd want to see her again, and she was fresh out of reasons why she shouldn't let him. But she also knew Elliot, which meant she couldn't avoid him for long. He was like a dog with a bone, that one.

This time she was so busy that she truly did not see him standing in her doorway, a shoulder perched on the door jamb and a cocky smile on his face.

"The flowers aren't nearly as pretty as you are," he said.

Her eyes launched upwards and her mouth fell open, both in surprise at seeing him and the fear that someone in the squad had heard his words.

"What ... what are you doing here?" she asked, suddenly uncomfortable in his presence.

"Had to see if you were as gorgeous as I remembered, as I've been picturing ..."

"Elliot stop. Please," she halted him abruptly. "Not here."

"Then let's have lunch," he suggested. "You gotta eat, and I'm buying."

She pulled off her glasses and peered through the slotted blinds out into the squad while she tried to buy time.

"I … uh ... this really isn't a good time," was all she managed.

"You know, you can't avoid me forever," he said knowingly. "And I believe I owe you a congratulatory meal over this whole lieutenant thing."

She mistakenly tried to play innocent with a man who could see right through her. "It's only been two days. And I'm not avoiding you."

"Right," he offered skeptically. "So obviously you've been too busy to have a good meal. I'd say you're way past due for lunch," he added, pretending to check his invisible watch.

She huffed and stared at him. He looked so good. Jeans, leather jacket, just off work and standing here before her, challenging her yet again to deny him. To deny herself.

"Don't you have to get Eli?"

"Soccer practice til 4," he said without hesitation. "Try again."

"Work?"

"Nope. Grab your coat. Let's go, Liv."

Damn him. He was as stubborn as she was, and if she didn't get up and go eat with him, he'd stand in her doorway all day.

"Alright," she finally conceded. "But we need to go somewhere close in case something breaks."

Elliot smiled smugly at how easily he'd convinced her. He really thought she'd make him work harder for it.

As they walked out of the squad, she turned to her No. 2. "Fin?"

He waved a hand and rolled his eyes. "Yeah I know. I got it." He and Stabler exchanged a cold stare but no words.

Lunch was quick as she'd requested, sandwiches at a nearby deli they'd frequented in their past life together - before he'd left, before Noah and before the other night. She spent the time tiptoeing through their conversation and praying he wouldn't mention their tryst. He'd intentionally avoided the topic as well because he knew how her mind worked. He'd only pecked her on the lips and touched her sparingly throughout their abbreviated meal.

When he pulled up outside the precinct to let her off afterwards, he grasped for a straw, for a next time. "So how about dinner, out somewhere Friday, when you don't have to rush like this?" he asked.

"I really can't, El," she replied. "We're so busy."

"How are you doing? Feeling better ... about things?" He was asking about the Terrance Reynolds case, and he was also asking if the hour she'd spent in his arms had had the intended effect.

"That whole issue is a long away from over," she said, unintended revelations among her words. "But there's always a next case, something else that requires my attention."

"So you have none left to give me?"

"God Elliot," she huffed, bringing a flustered hand to her forehead. "Please don't pressure me."

He reset himself with a deep breath. "Not my intent. I just ... I really want to see you again."

"I can't."

"Fine," he tried again. "If not this weekend, then maybe ..."

"No. I mean I can't. I can't see you ... like that ... ever." She wasn't sure how but she managed to look him square in the eye when she said it.

He was dumbfounded. "Why the hell not?"

Her argument was weak. "We had our moment, you were good to me, but that's all it can be."

He pulled away from the precinct door and parked the car 50 yards down the street so he could say what he needed to. And he chose to say it loudly.

"I was good to you? So that's it? You got what you wanted, and that's it?"

"I don't know why you're so upset," she said. "You got what you wanted too, right? You wanted the sex, and you got it."

"Jesus Christ, Olivia," he huffed, bracing his palms against the steering wheel so he wouldn't punch the windshield.

"Seems to me that sex is what you wanted," he accused. In reality he'd wanted much more.

She stared at him blankly, so he persisted. "Am I right?"

She lowered her head and nodded so slightly he almost missed it. Then almost in a whisper, she said, "And I needed to feel safe."

Every word out of her mouth - as few as there were - added fuel to his fire. "So which is it then? Am I safe or am I a threat? You can't have it both ways."

"You made me feel safe," she uttered meekly.

"Then why do you keep accusing me of being a threat to this new life of yours?" he continued, his voice rising. "You've set up this fortress around your perfect little world and only come out to play when you feel like it."

She felt cornered now and lashed out. "Oh screw you!"

"No!"

She looked at him in near wonder.

"Other men in your world - Tucker, Dodds, even Langan - they might think I'm crazy," he continued, staring nearly through her. "But I absolutely refuse to just screw you. That doesn't work for me. Not with you."

She found his choice of words ugly. "Why do you have to say it like that?"

"That's what you wanted, right?" he argued. "Well I'm not a booty call, Olivia. Not for you."

"I can't give you more," she said firmly.

"Why not? Why do you get to make all the rules?"

"You made all the rules when you left," she hurled at him.

"You know what, bullshit! Just bullshit! I'm done doing my penance for that," he said furiously. "I told you what happened, I told you why. If you're gonna keep holding it over my head then ... what is it you said ... I can just disappear again!"

Olivia was stunned. She'd been calling all the shots since Elliot turned up in the squad room six weeks ago. She'd made him grovel and plead his way back into her world. Until now he hadn't raised his voice or backed her into a corner. In a strange way and at strange time, she found this Elliot more intriguing.

He lowered his voice and made one last plea. "Have you ever thought for one minute that maybe I could help out with all that's happening in your life? That instead of being a problem that maybe, just maybe, I'm the solution?"

"Here's the thing," she began, ready to invalidate any of the absolute truth in his statement. "It doesn't matter what you do to me. I've been assaulted, kidnapped, beaten. I survived Lewis, and I survived you. But like I told you, it isn't about me anymore. I can't let you hurt my son."

"What the fuck?" He was really angry now. "I would never, never …

"That's not what I meant, Elliot," she explained. "I mean you can't come into our lives, set up shop, then decide to leave whenever you feel like it."

He understood now, and the fact that it made sense frustrated him even more. "Are you the same person you were five years ago?"

"Hell no!" she replied quickly.

"Well neither am I," he said calmly. "For the 100th time, I know I hurt you. I know you deserved better than what happened. But the other thing I know is, even though I've changed, one thing hasn't."

She waited for him to finish, to reveal this one stalwart thing on which he was now hanging his hat.

"I love you. Just you."

She hadn't expected that. For him to come right out with it.

"And all this that's going on - the fighting, the denial, the mixed messages - I know it's because you love me too and that scares the hell out of you," he concluded.

The bastard was right. It was why she'd cried the other night when she'd left his apartment, why he was the one she'd turned to when she needed to be touched. She couldn't look at him. She was staring out the car window thinking of something, anything to say, searching for a way to deny it. But she couldn't. So instead she shut him down.

"Look El, I really need to get back."

He'd hoped his passionate plea would have broken through, but when she failed to admit her feelings and now was redirecting the conversation, he couldn't help but feel deeply disappointed in the situation and even more so in her. "Yeah, whatever."

He tapped the wheel and stared out the windshield, which was slowly being covered in new fallen raindrops. "Maybe I was way off when I said you were different now, that you were stronger," he said dismissively. "I can't believe you won't even fight for this."

Tears filled her eyes now. His words were harsh but she was crying in anger at herself, at her inability to just let herself take this step with him.

He started the car, spun it in the middle of the street and stopped closer to the precinct door. It was raining like hell now and, even though he was pissed and hurt, part of him - instinct maybe - wanted to keep her dry.

He knew she was crying, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her. But he was angry too. She'd spent so much time punishing him for hurting her that she failed to see she was the one dishing out the pain now. Tough love was still love, so he kept quiet.

While he waited for her to exit the car, she turned to him and tried to speak. "Can we talk more, some other time?" She wasn't sure what more time would do but she had so much more to say. She just needed to find the courage to say it.

He kept looking straight ahead when he answered. "Look, if you're in trouble or you need help or something, call me. But otherwise, I can't do this anymore. You either want me or you don't, and you've been pretty clear so ..."

She deserved that. She knew she did. But it didn't make it hurt any less.

"I'm sorry, Elliot. I really am." Then she got out of the car and hustled through the raindrops to the precinct door. He watched her disappear inside and, quite possibly, from his life.

Weeks went by. Olivia managed to keep her mind off of Elliot during the day. She didn't really have to try, as the demands of the job and the new challenges she faced as lieutenant kept her more than occupied.

The nights were different. The evenings on the living room floor with Noah were magic. He was babbling and uttering short words. He was cruising around the apartment, getting his curious hands into everything. She sounded like a broken record with how many times she had to say, "No Noah," and redirect his attention to a toy or book to keep him out of trouble.

She enjoyed bath time with him more than ever as he'd discovered splashing her was his new favorite pastime. She'd come to expect being nearly as wet as him when they emerged from the bathroom. He was everything she needed to counteract her days. Almost.

When he'd fall asleep at night, she'd listen to his rhythmic breathing until her mind drifted inevitably to that one night with Elliot. His scent, his tender words, his rough skin. She'd effortlessly gone two years without being touched by anyone. But now that he'd touched her, she noticed the woman in her rising to the surface more frequently. But Elliot was no booty call - as he'd told her - and there were no other hands she wanted on her body. All she had were her own on those few occasions when it became too much and the thoughts of him wouldn't go quietly.

As Noah became more active and more curious she started taking him to a weekend playgroup for toddlers. She could barely tear him away at the end of each 90-minute session. He enjoyed it so much that she also enrolled him in a tots music class right afterwards where clapping and finger plays accompanied basic language enrichment. She was amazed at the speed by which he was absorbing the world around him.

Aside from joy she got from her young son, the days at SVU continued to be trying, especially when Rollins' manipulative sister came back to town and brought significant drama with her. It wasn't until Olivia did some soul searching and remembered her relentless dedication to her own longtime partner that she came to understand how Fin had covered for Rollins throughout the investigation.

Eventually Carisi and a very pregnant Rollins uncovered information in the Zachary Scott case - still open but progressing slowly - that gave the boy motive for making what turned out to be false abuse accusations. His mother had gone on a handful of dates with the substitute teacher the boy had finally pinpointed - before he tearfully admitted it hadn't happened at all.

The detectives gave the boy a firm talking to about the seriousness of his claims and the legal ramifications of making them. They had no intentions of charging him, but were obligated to make sure he wasn't sitting across from them again unless someone had really hurt him. Olivia spent the same amount of time tying up loose ends with his mother.

"Mrs. Scott, your son is very young and we don't want to bring charges against him because we want him to grow up knowing that the police are on his side," Olivia explained. "But there has to be some reason he went this far to make such serious claims against your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," the mother offered quickly. "And that's the problem."

Olivia listened intently as the woman rose from the conference room table and paced. "I only started seeing him a few weeks before this all happened with Zach. It wasn't serious, just a few dates," Mrs. Scott explained. "In fact I'd intentionally tried not to bring him into our home. We weren't at the point where I felt it was serious enough with him to bring Zach into it."

"So why do you think your son took such a dislike to him?" Olivia asked, using her hand to encourage Mrs. Scott to sit back down with her.

"It wasn't Tom's fault. He didn't even have a chance to build a friendship with Zach. He saw him at school from time to time but that's it," Mrs. Scott explained. "My son wanted John back in our lives. In Zach's mind, getting rid of Tom meant John would come back."

"John?"

"The man I was involved with before ... well before I went out with Tom."

Olivia continued to listen.

"John was a good man. He came into our lives not long after my husband left and he took to Zach right away," the mother explained through tears. "My son missed his father and clung to John. They were so close it scared me."

"How so?"

"Please don't get me wrong," Mrs. Scott began. "I'm not trying to say John would ever do anything to hurt Zachary. In fact, maybe he was too good to be true, and that's where I went wrong. I pushed him away."

"With all due respect, Mrs. Scott, I don't understand," Olivia asked. "Why would you ...?"

"We were so hurt when Zachary's father left. We were blindsided. There was no way I would let it happen again, let someone tear my son's heart out like that. So before he could hurt us ..."

"You pushed John away," Olivia added quietly.

"Yes," Mrs. Scott admitted. "He loved us. I know it makes no sense but ..."

Olivia reached across the table and laid her hand over that of Mrs. Scott. "It makes perfect sense. I get it," the lieutenant assured her. "I have a young son too, and as single moms, we have to be ... cautious."

"Cautious, yes," Mrs. Scott said, a slight smile of regret crossing her lips. "Stupid, no."

Olivia smiled back at her empathically. "Well you never know, right? Maybe it's not too late to make things right with John." Then she squeezed her hand.

They watched through the two-way mirror as Rollins and Carisi wrapped up their conversation with Zachary.

"Now you remember that if you ever really need help, you can call us. In fact," Carisi said, reaching into his shirt pocket, "you can call me directly." He passed the boy his business card and laid a protective hand on his shoulder. "Got it?"

The boy smiled slightly at the lanky detective. "Got it."

Mrs. Scott thanked the sergeant for the sensitive treatment of her son, shook the hands of Carisi and Rollins, then took Zachary home. Olivia led them out of the squad, staring after them a long time as they left.

No matter how many cases she investigated, how many victims she comforted, they never failed to teach her something too.