A/N: A twinsy chapter! Love these. Review

June 24th, 1999

1-6 Precinct

"So you're saying you fell on her?" Fin asked Nick Rocenno.

Elliot was standing in the corner, his tie hanging loosely around his neck and his eyes heavy with a weariness he would never be able to satisfy.

"Yep" Rocenno replied easily. "I was jogging when she cut me off and I tripped. We landed in a heap on a bush."

"So the bushes broke her cheek bone and left wrist?" Elliot asked, continuing the line of questioning.

"Rough-ass branches man. We hit them full speed too."

"Ah," Fin nodded sarcastically. "And when you helped her up your pants just fell down on their own?"

"My sweats inched down...maybe."

"So you weren't creating your own version of 'Free Willy,'" Elliot asked, leaning across the table.

"Hell no" Rocenno said. "That bitch is crazy, just looking for some attention. Hey, I saw that picture of the hot brunette on your desk. I'm sure she needed attention too, if you know what I mean man."

Fin tensed as he saw Elliot's jaw set. Rocenno had found the source of Elliot's sleepless nights and the only thing keeping him from, and tempting him towards, complete insanity. Before Fin could react Rocenno was slammed against the concrete wall, his chair toppling over backward.

"Let's get one thing straight" Elliot hissed as his forearm threatened to choke Rocenno to death. "I'm not your damn 'man,' and your fucked-up ass is going to jail."

"Let him go, Stabler," Fin implored. He knew better than to actually interfere in a long awaited meltdown.

Elliot slammed Rocenno's head against the wall, jamming his forearm even deeper into his windpipe. "As for that brunette" Elliot whispered in his ear. "You so much as think about her and I promise you that your next breath will be your last!"

Two uniforms suddenly burst into the interrogation room, grabbing Elliot and throwing him out towards his captain. Cragen just held out his hand and watched as Elliot unclipped his badge and gun and handed them over.

"How lo—"

"Indefinitely."

July 5th, 1999

A Shit-hole Bar in Lower Manhattan

Olivia officially hated bars. She hadn't had a good past with them, and her future wasn't looking much brighter.

"Oliv-Oli-Li-Liv!" Ricio slurred. "You want a shot?"

Olivia spotted her drunk partner on the last stool in the bar, closing the place out.

"No, Ricio, you're cut off. We're going home," Liv said, approaching her drunken partner of only a few months.

They hadn't even had a rough case, or a fight, or any of the things that led a cop to a bar. She'd thought he'd be stronger than this. She'd thought this phase of her life was over. But apparently she drove people to drink.

"You the friend?" the faceless bartender asked. It never mattered what they looked like, she'd learned that long ago.

"Yes" Olivia replied in a whisper. She'd been called down to pick up Ricio at some dive thirty minutes ago. She'd stopped nursing her ulcer on her couch, and reluctantly come here. She'd already been miserable, what else could happen? "How much does he owe?"

"Twenty-six fifty," the bartender replied, throwing the bar rag over his meaty shoulder.

Olivia handed the man her debit card. It never mattered what they owed either.

"Come on Ricio, we're leaving" Olivia said, coughing against an involuntary gag. She'd gotten into her mother's head when she found her diary, and now every time she smelled a bar she saw her mother just minutes before she died. Her stomach flipped and she grabbed Ricio's shoulder. "Now, Ricio, I want to go home."

"Come on, L-Liv" Ricio struggled to say. "Stay, have a shot." He flung his shot glass up haphazardly then and the clear liquid sloshed onto Liv's blouse.

"Son of a bitch!"

"L-li—"

"Olivia!"

"Olivia" Ricio slurred out finally. "I'm so sorry." He started to dab at her breasts with his jacket and Liv was suddenly reminded of a bar ten months ago, of inappropriate hands and a secret knowledge of what was going to happen back at her apartment. 'No promises.'

"Stop, James. Stop!" Liv exclaimed, shaking the dangerous thoughts from her mind. She blew out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. "Get up, you're done."

"Do you drink, Olivia?" Ricio prodded. "That why you keep losing it in alleys?"

"James, you're drunk off your ass and I don't feel well," Olivia said, ignoring his previous comment only because she knew what a drunk would regret later. "Get the fuck up, I want to go home."

"When it's me you want to go home? But you didn't mind having a few with your old partner, did you?"

"That's none of your business" Liv stated angrily. She couldn't take this. Not now. Not at some shit-hole bar with a man who was nothing but a knock-off of who she needed.

"I guess I'm not good enough for the lofty Olivia Benson? You only drink with people you fuck! How is Elliot?"

"That's it!" Olivia exclaimed. "Take your own drunk-ass ho—"

Ricio grabbed her arm as she turned and suddenly his mouth was pressed against hers, the several shots of vodka he'd inhaled invaded her mouth. Within in seconds Olivia had shoved him back against the bar and jammed her thumb into his windpipe.

"Olivia," Ricio said, his fingers clawing at her hand.

"Lady, chill out" the bartender said.

Liv ignored him, feeling all the acid in her stomach rolling and spinning as she saw red. "You say one thing about my partner and I swear that you will never breathe again."

A/N: Twinsy chapters. Liv and El are both busy destroying their present. Do you guys see how I'm leading them back to each other. There's no chance two such similar people won't get back together. REVIEW