A/N: "Loneliness is the feeling one has before they meet their soul mate. What follows is fulfillment."

DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and related characters. TStabler© owns the plot, dialogue, and original characters in this story.

The morning had been long, hectic, and they barely had minute to themselves. With the case finally halted, Elliot and Olivia walked down the block to a café, choosing a booth near the back in case another cop or, God forbid, the captain should walk by. Just because they weren't hiding anything from Cragen, didn't mean they were ready to flaunt it in his face.

They were talking over muffins, drinking the best coffee they'd had in a while, sharing sweet glances, light touches, soft kisses. "This is nice," she said, chewing on her gluten-free, organic, whole-grain, fruit-and-nut muffin.

"Very nice," he said to her, looking into her eyes, his double-chocolate chunk, full-fat lump of cake forgotten at his side.

"Who was on the phone?" she asked, sipping her non-fat latte.

He sighed and said, "The broker. We, uh, we didn't get the house. Someone put in a higher bid a few hours after we did." He raised his eyebrows and let out a puff of air. He brought his coffee to his lips and shrugged.

"How the hell did that happen?" she asked, furrowing her brow. "It seems really odd that someone would put a bid in for a house that late. It would have had to be close to midnight, El! Who does that?"

He scoffed, picked up and bit his muffin, and said, "Kathy." He chewed and swallowed as he tried not to laugh at the look on her face. "Dickie called me from school all upset about it. She told him they bought a new house, her and Fin, and then he called me. He knew it was the house we wanted, honey. He's more pissed about it than I am."

"How did she know?" Olivia asked, anger and resentment clear in her voice.

Elliot reached out and took her hand, pulling it away from the paper cup. "She has ways of finding things out, Liv. She always has. And now she's determined to use them to make my life hell." He ran the pad of his thumb lightly over her knuckles. "Listen," he said. "I found a nicer place, closer to work. A townhouse. It's ours, free and clear, if we want it."

"Do you want it?" she asked, picking up a small squared-off piece of her muffin and popping it into her mouth.

"How the hell can you eat that?" he asked, making a face. "It tastes like cardboard and oatmeal."

She laughed. "It's really good, actually," she said. "Answer my question."

He chuckled and sipped his coffee. "I want it, yeah," he said with a nod. "But…it's pretty big. Expensive. A couple of extra rooms we don't really need."

"Yet," she mumbled through a full mouth.

He tilted his head. He looked at her for a moment and asked, "Did you just insinuate that you and I might have children some day?"

She winked at him and sipped her latte. "Finish your heart-attack with a side of indigestion," she said, pointing to his muffin and coffee. "We have to get back to work."

"So, uh, we're moving in together then," he said. "Really. Like, you and me, getting a house, buying furniture. The whole bit."

"And possibly having children one day," she said with a single nod. "You paid attention to the conversation, and that was a great summary. You get an A."

He laughed and tossed his crumpled up napkin at her. He could definitely live like this for the rest of his life. Happy.

When they walked back into the squad room, a great deal calmer and more cheerful than they'd been when they left, Cragen immediately handed them two files and looked at Olivia. "I am so sorry about this," he said.

"Sorry about what?" she asked, confused. She flipped through the file in her hands, skimming through the facts and looking at the photos. "Should I know why you're…"

"It's a federal case, Olivia," Cragen said. "A couple of men from the bureau are here, and…"

"Oh, no," Elliot interrupted. "Cap, please, do not tell me we have to work with…"

"Stabler," a familiar voice called into the room from Cragen's office doorway. " Always nice to see you, Olivia," he said, nodding toward her. He had a smug grin on his face, as if he was getting ready to accept some kind of award.

"Dean," Olivia whispered, filling with anger, coldness, and a hint of fear and a world of regret.

"Like I said," Cragen said to them, "I'm sorry." He looked at Elliot and said, "Guy named Stevens is in the office, too. He needs to talk to the two of you."

"Couldn't Fin and Munch do this?" Elliot asked his captain in a harsh whisper. "Asking Liv and I to work with him is…"

"Your job," Cragen said. "It's your job. You're the federal liaison, Elliot, which means you and whoever your partner is get the federal cases." He blinked and sighed. "I'm sorry it's Olivia, and I'm sorry it's Porter, but you have a bastard going from state-to-state, kidnapping, raping, and killing little girls. That's a little more important than a broken heart, huh? A heart that, from what I've seen, isn't really that broken anymore."

Elliot sighed and reluctantly grabbed Olivia's arm and pulled her into Cragen's office. "I need that arm," she said, yanking her arm back. She rubbed her shoulder while looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry," he mumbled, plopping into a leather chair by the door. "Not really how I wanted to spend the rest of my day."

"This isn't exactly my idea of a good time either," she said, eying him, "But I didn't try to rip your arm out of the socket because of it."

"Trouble in paradise?" Porter cracked, walking between them. He looked at Olivia. "My offer still stands, sweetheart." He ran his hand along her arm and said, "You can come home."

She backed away from him, her eyes narrow, and she said sternly, "I am home." She shook her head at him, then turned toward the other agent in the room. "What do you need us to do?"

"How about an introduction, first," the man said as he held out his hand. "Agent Henry Stevens, and you're Detective Benson." He shook Olivia's hand. He, then, nodded at Elliot. "Detective Stabler, I presume."

"Yeah," Elliot said gruffly. "Right."

Stevens narrowed his eyes for a moment. "Friendly guy, isn't he," he quipped to Olivia.

She nodded. "Why do you need our help?" she asked again.

Stevens leaned against Cragen's desk and folded his arms. "You two, as I have heard from many different people, are the best in the biz. I give you a crime, you find me a bad guy. You know these crimes, you know the type of guy I'm looking for, and…"

"And Agent Porter suggested you come here, because he knows us personally, and knew once we heard there were children involved, we'd help you out," Elliot interrupted, his own arms crossed over his chest.

Stevens nodded once, then looked at Porter, who seemed fixated on Olivia. His eyes followed Porter's stare and he asked, "Was he wrong?"

"No," Olivia said. "We'll help you, on one condition."

"Name it," Stevens said, standing up straight. "Detective Benson, this guy has been just out of my reach for months. I will give you whatever you want if…"

"Porter goes home," she said, looking at Stevens, ignoring the shocked look on Dean's face and the proud one on Elliot's.

Stevens squinted a bit. "Detective, Agent Porter is the only other…"

"Then we can't help you," she said. "I cannot work with him, for both professional and personal reasons. I think if you keep him here, it'll be more of a distraction than any kind of help."

Stevens looked at Dean with a sigh and ran a hand down his face. "I'll call you," he said. "Run things from the office. Go back to San Francisco."

Dean looked at him, stunned. "Hank, I can't just…"

"Go, Porter!" Stevens said. "I didn't follow this fucker all the way to Manhattan to lose him because of you." His lip curled in anger and he watched, through narrowed eyes, as Dean grabbed his briefcase and walked toward them. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"Fuck you, Hank," Dean hissed. He turned, but before he left he grabbed Olivia and pulled her toward him, crashing his lips over hers.

She was too stunned to fight him, but clearly not enjoying it or returning the gesture. She finally pushed him away and looked at him, horrified. "What the hell was that?"

"See you soon, Olivia," he said, a gleam in his eye that said he was not kidding. He snarled at Elliot once, then walked out of the office.

Olivia's eyes shot to Elliot, who looked hurt, angry, confused, and ready to get up and go after Dean. She shook her head and he made a move to get up. But he bit his lip and stayed where he was.

Stevens cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence. "Can we get to work now?" he asked, holding up one of the files.

Elliot finally got up, walked toward them, and took the file from Stevens' hands. He glanced once at Olivia and sighed. Maybe throwing himself into the case would make him forget what he had just seen.

Elliot had never been happier to be at Olivia's apartment. He walked in, threw his jacket on the chair in the corner, pulled off his shoes, and without saying anything, he headed for the bedroom.

Olivia, feeling horrible about the turn the day that started so wonderfully had taken, followed him. She walked into the bedroom as he was changing, and she wrapped her arms around him from behind him as he was searching for a tee shirt in the dresser. "I'm sorry," she whispered, kissing between his shoulder blades.

"It isn't you I'm pissed off at," he said, his voice like ground cement. "I was watching you, believe me. I know you didn't…you didn't wanna kiss him." He turned to her, his shirt in his hands. "Did you?"

"Of course not," she said, shaking her head. "The only lips I want anywhere near mine are yours."

He let out a small laugh. "That makes me feel a little better," he said, looking at her. He ran the fingers of his left hand through her hair and sighed. "I hate him, Liv. I hate him for everything he did to you, the way he made you feel, the way he hurt you, the way he…the way he ripped you away from me."

She ran her hands down his back, slowly, her fingernails grazing his skin. She heard him moan and she bit her lip. "You're allowed to hate him now," she whispered. "You were allowed to hate him before. You can't help how you feel about someone."

He looked deeper into her eyes. She was talking about them. They couldn't help loving each other despite being with other people. They couldn't escape making themselves lonely to avoid hurting each other for so long. "Guess you can't," he said, looking down at her roving hands as her fingers moved slowly over a healed over bullet wound.

"I remember this," she whispered. "You…you pushed me out of the way."

He nodded. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat," he said, dropping the shirt and moving his right hand to meet his left on her hips.

Her fingers trailed over his chest, lightly dancing over the very surface of his skin, raising goose bumps and hitting nerves. She slid one finger down the scar on his neck, remembering the knife that made the gash. "This could have been worse," she whispered.

"You were there," he said, flicking at the buttons on her shirt, from the bottom to the top. "You got him away from me, baby."

She nodded. "He got a good slice at me, though," she said, noticing her opened shirt, and his hands tracing the scar the same knife had left on her right side.

He swallowed hard as he shirked the shirt off of her body, his heart began to pound and he felt his fingers start to tremble as her bra-clad body was revealed, so closely, for the first time. "We just keep saving each other, huh?"

She nodded, dragging her hands down to his waist, tugging lightly at his belt. She unbuckled it as she said, "I don't plan on stopping, do you?"

"Never," he whispered, slipping his calloused fingers down to the front of her work pants. They worked quickly, quietly, holding onto to the look in each other's eyes as the clothes dropped to the floor. He moved first, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around her. He guided her with his kiss, moving her toward the bed, as his left hand inched down her body, still shaking, and grabbed a hold of her cotton panties. He let go, pulled away from her lips, and looked into her eyes as one finger traced the outline of her high-cut briefs, sliding into the dip of her hip and curving of her inner thigh.

She gasped, her lips parting a bit, and her pupils dilated. That's when she felt his hands move again, both of them gripping the cotton and pulling, sliding down her body. When they hit the floor, she closed her eyes.

He knelt over her, staring at her. He slid out of his own briefs, then moved his hands to her bra, unclasping it carefully and peeling it away from her. She opened her eyes when she felt the material slip away.

They held each other's gazes as he touched and felt every inch of her body. He palmed over her breasts and tweaked at her nipples, teasing and exploring, loving the way she moved and the noises she made. He moaned and shivered in response when she began her own exploration of his body in this new, exciting way.

He shifted beside her and whispered in a low, sexy tone. "You're the most beautiful person in the world, you know that?" he told her, nudging at her nose with his.

She smirked, rolling on her side, to face him. "You're just saying that because you're about to…"

"No, I'm not," he interrupted, skirting around her attempt at humor. "I mean it, baby. Inside and out, hands down, you are truly, amazingly beautiful."

She swallowed and lifted her hands, cupping his face. She let her eyes dance with his for a silent moment, and pulled him toward her, covering his mouth with hers as she rolled onto her back again.

He followed her lead, rolling onto her, deepening the kiss, the severity of what was about to happen penetrating his mind just as he shifted to his left and felt her wetness. He moaned, moving a bit, sliding against her. She felt so good, so ready. He pushed himself up and took aim at her entrance. "If I…"

She stopped him with another kiss, wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her hands into his back, begging him to move. Begging him to make her his.

He moaned into their kiss, against her lips, as he pushed into her, the sensations causing emotions to run high and synapses to misfire.

She made a high-pitched squealing noise into his mouth and her nails cut crescent-shaped patterns into his shoulder blades.

He moaned louder, pushed deeper, and when he finally stopped, feeling all of himself inside of her, he pulled away to look into her eyes. "God," he whispered.

"I love you," she countered, shaking her head. A single tear rolled down her cheek, the only inclination of any pain.

"I love you, too, baby," he said, looking into her perfectly rounded, opened eyes as he began to move.

They finally made each other complete, saved each other one more time. The night would be longer than their day, at least, until someone who isn't supposed to be lonely anymore disturbs them.

A/N: Coming up: A midnight call, a break in the federal case leads to a surprising suspect that makes Olivia physically sick, and Kathy pays them a visit as they start to pack. Review here or on Twitter: TMG212