A/N: I really want to thank everyone who took the time to review or message me their thoughts and words of encouragement. It means a lot-I was very concerned that the story would not be well-received because of the subject matter. We're about half way to the end; things pick up a lot from here. I hope you'll stick with me till the bitter end!

Monday, May 22

5:30 pm

"Elliot. My office. Now."

Elliot couldn't count the number of times he'd heard words to that effect coming from the general direction of his captain's office. He knew by now to expect it; he hadn't even bothered to take off his coat as he entered the bullpen.

Cragen held the door open for them, then closed it tightly once he'd entered. His silence as he strode around his desk and took a seat spoke volumes; Elliot braced himself for an earful.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but assaulting a suspect… ."

"I didn't do anything I wouldn't have done in an interrogation."

"I don't care what you did. The fact is you did it in public, twenty yards from a hiking trail and spitting distance from one of Central Park's most visited tourist spots," Cragen shook his head and sat down. "You're lucky no one caught it on camera."

Elliot shifted on his feet. "He's a confessed rapist and murderer, and he was playing us like fiddles."

"My bosses already view you as a liability, and your outbursts are making us look bad." Cragen sighed from deep below his solar plexus and folded his hands atop his desk. "I know he was pushing your buttons. And I know it's hard to not take these things personally, to stay uninvolved. But you've gotta see how this looks to an outsider."

Elliot knew what was coming; he furrowed his brow. "Captain, with all due respect, I don't follow you."

"Three a.m. coffee dates? Fighting with your partner? Now this?" Cragen queried.

Fuck, Elliot cursed to himself. "And what would have me do?"

Cragen shifted his eyes down to his folded hands. "I know things haven't been peachy between you and Kathy for a while—."

Elliot leaned back in his chair as the realization of the true meaning behind his boss's line of questioning hit him square in the chest. "Are you kidding me?"

Lifting his hands a little, defensively, Cragen back-pedalled. "Elliot, it's not an accusation."

Elliot gnashed his teeth together, feeling a vein in his neck pulsing as his anger boiled over. "Like hell it isn't!"

Cragen's eyes were worried but calm. "Look: we've had run-ins with IAB before about the conduct of our officers on and off the job, and for less-serious accusations than romancing a victim or beating up on their attackers."

"I did my job."

Cragen nodded, but his mind was made. "And now it's time for me to do mine," he replied.

Elliot counted the seconds between breaths as he let the air fill with a long silence before asking: "You don't actually believe that anything happened, do you?"

Cragen leveled his eyes at Elliot. "I have to cross the Ts and dot the Is," he said. "And regardless of your relationship with Audrey Middleton, what happened today can't happen again." He took a breath, "So I think maybe it's best for everyone if you ride the pine for the next couple of days."

"Captain—."

"It's already done, Elliot," Cragen interrupted. "Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow's a new day. "

Elliot nodded, keeping his jaw locked as he turned and stalked out of the office. Olivia followed close behind as he beelined for his locker.

"Hold up, El."

He flung the door to his locker open. "I'm benched," he barked.

"Why?"

Elliot gave a derisive snort. "Since I roughed up a soon-to-be convicted felon," he said. "And since my relationship with Audrey seems to be drawing the kind of attention the department doesn't want—."

"Wait a second," Olivia said. "Cragen actually said that?"

"Not in so many words," Elliot replied. "But he asked if there was anything going on, yeah."

Olivia paused; she was choosing her words. "Is there?" she asked finally, her voice conspiratorial.

Elliot felt his stomach bottom out. "Jesus, Liv!"

"You know you could tell me if there was," she added.

Elliot slammed his locker door shut by way of reply. He glared at Olivia as he strode toward his desk. Fin and Munch, hunched over a set of documents on Munch's desk, cast sideways glances at the pair; across the room, two junior detectives leading away a perp in handcuffs couldn't help but stare. But Elliot felt immune to the embarrassment. Nothing hurt more than having his own partner question him.

Olivia seemed aware of the extra attention. "Elliot, come on," she glanced around her. "I'm just asking."

It was Elliot's turn to lower his voice. "And you should goddamn well know me better than that."

She nodded. "I do," she said. "You're right, I'm sorry."

It wasn't enough to have to do this job day-in and day-out, he had to have his integrity questioned while he was at it. Self-doubt, he could handle; this was unbearable. Elliot braced himself against his desk, trying to breathe past the baseball resting on his diaphragm.

"Is IAB involved?" Olivia asked.

Elliot flexed and unflexed his hands against the faux wood grain. "They're not gonna find anything even if they were."

"El—."

He stood up, shrugged on his coat.

"It'll pass," she said.

He rolled his shoulders, working out the kinks that he'd had since the day he started this job, which he figured would be there until the day he died. "See you tomorrow?" he asked.

Olivia nodded. "Call me."

He strode out of the squad room without another word.