So, since I last updated:

#1: Student teaching is still awesome! I'm teaching about 3 lessons a day right now, and soon enough, I'll be teaching the whole day! My students are VERY funny and I laugh everyday. "I hope you get over it real quick." - is a personal favorite that I overheard a student tell another in my class, I had a good laugh over that one!

#2: LOVE my first graders, DO NOT love their germs. I had a cold 2 weeks ago, then had a week of normalcy and now I have strep (at 21). If you've never had strep, consider yourself lucky - you don't want it!

#3: I haven't written in a long time, I do apologize for that. There just aren't enough hours in the day to teach, lesson plan, have time to myself and write! Anyways, I whipped this up so I hope y'all like it.

#4: I'm on Twitter, if you want to hear more first grade sayings/student teaching adventures: fearLIZness17


The texts exchanged had been few and far between since she had agreed to meet him in the days prior. He knew that looking at her phone wasn't even on her priority list, she had other pressing issues to deal with. He didn't push the envelope, he didn't want to risk the possibility of her changing her mind. She was in charge and when she decided on a Wednesday to have him come over, he happily accepted.

He had been a nervous-wreck all morning, thousands of thoughts were flying through his mind. He was having trouble figuring out what he was going to say to make sure he didn't screw up. He couldn't afford to screw up anymore at this point, this was really his last chance to make amends. On the way to her apartment, he had stopped at the flower shop down the street from the hotel where he was staying. He used to be a frequent flyer in the shop, always buying flowers for Kathy. The owner was an older Italian woman, who somehow always knew that something had gone awry at the Stabler house. She had taken a liking to him, and would always help him pick out the prettiest bunch. This time, she recognized him immediately. He didn't have time to make small-talk, but truthfully, he didn't really know if the words would come out of his mouth in the right order. Just like old times, the woman helped him pick out a bouquet of lilies. Instead of asking him to pay, the woman had said, "Whoever she is, make it right."

The drive to her apartment was short, and he found himself standing in front of her door. He was trying to give himself a mental pep-talk, hoping that this meeting would go over better than the last. He didn't want her to feel like he was forcing her to meet, that was the opposite of what he wanted. He knocked gently, and he heard footsteps coming closer to the door. Based on the last time he was here, he knew that she probably wasn't walking and that he would be face to face with Kat in a few short seconds. The door clicked open to which Kat said, "Well, aren't you right on time."

"I tried my best," he gently replied, hoping that another fight wasn't on it's way.

She motioned for him to come in and whispered as he was taking his coat off, "This is for her, I don't want your pity or sympathy. She wants this, and I'll support her." She paused, almost hesitating, before continuing, "Just remember, she's not the same person. A lot happened to her, and I'd really hate to see her get her hopes up if you're not fully invested."

He nodded, the pressure was high and the expectations were exceptionally clear. "I got these for her," he held up the lilies he had bought earlier that morning. "Do you have something I could put them in?"

"Why don't you give them to her yourself?" Kat quietly said as she led him into the living room. "She's in her room, I'll go get her. Stay here."

"He was left standing in the living room, as Kat wandered into the back bedroom. He heard some mumbling between the two women and a little bit of shuffling around. She was leaning on Kat and he could tell she was doing her best to walk on her own accord. He knew that she was trying to prove she was better off than she was, it was how she worked. The bruises on her face were still prominent, a deep shade of purple. The lacerations on her cheek still had their stitches, as did the ones on her chest and presumably her arms. She was still limping, her ankle wasn't healed. Just looking at the way she was moving gave away that her ribs were still giving her a hard time. She was wearing yoga pants and a blue sweatshirt where the rest of her injuries were most likely hiding under. Her hair was in a messy bun, half of it falling out. He watched as Kat walked her over to the couch, gently helping her sit and getting her comfortable.

He stood in the same place that Kat had left him, her voice breaking him out of the silence. "You don't have to stand there looking like a deer in a headlights, you know."

"Hi," he gave a small smile to Olivia, "I picked these up for you on the way over, I know lilies are your favorite."

She nodded, "Thanks, we'll put them in a vase later on." She looked over at Kat, and gave a small nod. She was trying her best to be okay with everything and she knew her daughter had plans with Amanda. Kat was putting on her coat, she felt bad about leaving her mother but she knew that this meeting was between Elliot and Olivia. There was a lot that was going to be exchanged between the two, and it wasn't a place for a teenager who didn't know half of it.

"It's okay," Olivia quietly told her daughter as she hesitated. "I'll be alright, you can go."

The teenager nodded, before grabbing her purse. Just before she shut the door, she told her mother, "Call me if you want me to come back, I mean it."

With her daughter now gone, Olivia turned her attention to the man standing awkwardly in front of her. She looked him up and down, he was just as tall as she remembered. His hands were worn, and she could see the way he was clenching them in his pockets. His blue eyes were just as piercing as the last time she saw them. This time, they were full of worry and fear of the unknown. "Come sit," she said as she motioned to the chair sitting beside the couch.

Sitting, he finally felt like she was allowing him into her space. Despite everything, she invited him to her house and was willing to hear him out. It scared him, he knew she had expectations and a standard that he had to uphold. "How are you?" She gently asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Good, it's really nice to see you again." He fiddled with his hands in his lap as he spoke again, "Thanks for giving me the chance to come over, I really appreciate it."

She hated how awkward this was, she hated the fact that so much time had passed since they had really talked to one another. She hated how she felt like she barely knew the man sitting beside her. She hated how composed she was, and she hated how composed he was trying to be. The old Olivia and Elliot would have already gone at it but now, she didn't even recognize who either of them were anymore. She was silent, and she hated how she didn't know what to say to him. After all the years, all of the rehearsed speeches in her head, nothing quite felt right for what it would feel like to actually be sitting beside him.

He knew she was internalizing, he could see it in her blank stare. It was a look that he knew well, it was a look she gave off when she was at a loss for words. There was so much to say, and he hated the fact that neither of them knew how to say the things they wanted to. "It's okay, Liv." He paused as he looked at her, "Go ahead, you can say whatever it is you want to. It's alright."

She missed the way that he said her name, but she couldn't deny the fact that this time, it angered her. She would have given anything to hear that voice in the beach house or at the hospital when she woke up, not now, when he showed up out of nowhere. She was calm, and her words came out softly, "Please don't call me that."

He quickly apologized, "I just thought – you know what, it doesn't matter. I'm not going to be mad, at anything you're going to say. It's okay, I deserve everything coming at me."

"Why now?" She spoke, "After all this time, why now?"

"Fin, he called me which I'm sure you now know about. It was a call I wasn't expecting to get. He mentioned something about you, and he told me it'd be better if he told me in person. I couldn't just hang up the phone and not listen to what he had to say. We spent 12 years as partners, and with news like that I had to come out here. I got on the plane, and the whole time, I was thinking about what it would feel like to have someone tell me that you were dead." He paused, collecting his thoughts, "And when I got to the squad room, that's when he told me what happened to you."

Her voice was abnormally calm, he honestly didn't know how she was doing it. "You came out because Fin told you he had bad news, but you couldn't pick up the phone any of the times I called you in the years before?" She took a sip of the water bottle sitting next to her, "Did you even listen to any of the voice-mails I left?"

"After Jenna, I fell hard and I fell fast. I couldn't get the image of her out of my head, she was the same age as Kathleen. It felt like I killed one of my own kids, and I couldn't deal with the thought of that. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw your face and heard Jenna's screams." He rubbed his hand up and down the back of his neck as he continued talking, "When I left the squad room after getting interrogated, I walked into my house and packed a suitcase. By that time, my marriage was a step away from divorce papers. I started walking, until I ended up at the bus station. I went to Boston, and drank. I was angry, at myself and the way things happened. I wanted to forget, and I drank a lot more than I ever should. I turned into my father, something that I tried so hard to avoid. I lashed out at anyone and everyone, I wasn't even close to the person that you knew." He sighed, remembering who he used to be. It hurt him that he went so far down a rabbit hole after he left. "I saw your name on my phone time and time again, the texts and the voice-mails. I never picked up, and I never picked up because you didn't deserve to get caught up in the middle of everything. When I turned my papers in, I couldn't even look Cragen in the eye. He had asked if I was planning on telling you, and I thought that if I couldn't even face my Captain, I couldn't even face you. I knew that you were going to try to convince me to come back, and I didn't want that. I put my life into SVU, and it spit me out a disaster. My life was a mess, a complete and utter mess."

"A little notice would have been nice," she simply stated.

"And I wish I would have had it in me to tell you, you deserved better than what you got. I'm sorry, and I know it doesn't mean anything coming from me now. But you have to know that it tore me up completely. I didn't have anyone, Kathy stopped speaking to me and the kids didn't want to associate with their drunk of a father. I had a suitcase of clothes, a bottle of whiskey and a gun. I almost ended it all, I just couldn't deal with everything. I got my life back on track, I have a job and I'm sober. My kids actually call, and come visit on occasion. It's not perfect, but it's better than where I was."

"You tried to die?" Her voice shook slightly, hoping that he didn't take notice. "You tried to eat your gun?"

He nodded sadly, "I'm not proud of it, I regret it actually. And I'm sorry, so sorry that you had to hear it this way. I should have called you, I should have let you in. I know that sorry just isn't enough, especially with you. I deeply regret it, and I'll regret it for the rest of my life."

"It's been years, and in all those years since you left, I thought that it was me that messed up." She tucked a piece of fallen hair behind her ear and softly admitted, "I thought I was the reason you left."

"I can promise you that you weren't, you had nothing to do with my decision to leave. You didn't deserve to know the person I became. I became a monster, someone who was angry at the world for the hand he was dealt. I didn't call you because I was scared. I was so scared of what you would say to me, or what I would say to you. I mean, what could you possibly say to someone after you walked right out of their lives?"

"Do you know what it feels like to be left behind? I mean, really left behind?" She didn't even wait for his response before she continued. Her voice was soft, and composed despite the heavy subject matter, "It hurts, it's like a piece of you that gets ripped out of your body. There's a gaping hole and no matter how hard you try, it won't get fixed. The Uni's in the squad room stare at you, they whisper as you walk by them and they pretend that you can't hear what's being said. Your Captain, asks you if you need to take a day and you refuse because you use work as a distraction for the problems going on in your life. Your friends look at you like you're about to break, and treat you like a child. They look at you with puppy dog eyes from their desks and aren't fully convinced when you say you're fine. Your daughter, who has never seen her mother cry, finds her sobbing in bed. She thinks that someone died, and even though it feels like that way, you can't seem to quite explain why it hurts as badly as it does. People look at you differently after you've been left, like you're some kind of sideshow act. And then, you suddenly feel nothing. You become numb, and everyone wonders how you're still standing. It all comes back to the gaping hole, Elliot. Nobody wants one, and nobody wants to be left behind."

He nodded, as she vented her frustrations. He knew it was good for her, and he wasn't going to stop her. He just had to make sure that he didn't make her angry or cause this conversation to be cut short. "I know, and I'm sorry. I think I'll be sorry for the rest of my life, to be honest with you."

"I've heard the word sorry way too many times lately," she steadily spoke, "and I know you mean well. But please, find another word." The piece of hair she had tucked behind her ear had fallen back in front of her face. She brushed it to the side as she took another sip of her water, collecting her thoughts. "I didn't ask to be left behind. But the world spins on the principle of inherent tragedy. Everywhere I went, it was your face that I would look for in the crowd. It was your face that I thought I saw when I was on the subway. It was you that I heard in my head when I was interrogating a suspect, you were everywhere. And then, you disappeared. I stopped seeing you, and I moved on. People stopped asking me how I was doing and they stopped gossiping. They stopped caring, and to a point, I did too. I knew you weren't going to come back, and I knew you weren't going to return any of the voice-mails I left you. I realized that the world doesn't owe you a damn thing, and I gave up."

"I've looked back at that day a thousand different times. I tried to pick out the point in time where it all went wrong, and the moment along the way where I thought that it might be the last time I would be your partner. I searched and I constantly thought about it, but I never found the answer. I never wanted you to get hurt, that wasn't my intent at all." He was wringing his hands in his lap again, he was completely sincere with his words but he couldn't hide the fact that he was so nervous. He had never openly admitted any of this, "I think knowing that I hurt you was what sent me over the edge. We spent 12 years together. That's 12 years of stakeouts, putting away perps and helping victims. You know me better than Kathy ever did, and I'd like to think I knew you better than you knew yourself at certain points. We both had kids, we saw each other's highs and lows. We even promised each other a kidney if it came down to that. I was the one, after 12 years, to throw it all away. That's on me, and I wish I could take it all back."

She sighed, feeling a small pinch on her ribs. She gently slid her good hand and rested it on her side, "And then there was Kat. How do you explain to your daughter that the only decent guy she's ever known disappeared? She loved you, deeply. You treated her like she was your own daughter, and I admired that. You didn't have to do that, but I know you made a promise to her in the hospital when she was born. You were there for her, and truly stepped in as that father figure for her. I admired that, and the fact that you did it for 12 years. When you left, she was devastated. She cried, and cried. She thought it was her fault, and was completely guilt-ridden. She tried to fill that void, and ended up in an abusive relationship with a boy from her school. She was willing to get beat on to try to make up for you leaving. She tried to close herself off from the rest of the world, she shut down." She took another sip of her water, and continued on, "She stopped hanging out with your kids, it was too painful for her to not have you there. Her grades started to slip, and she became distant. She would come home from school and lock herself away in her room. She would barely talk, and when she would, it was like pulling teeth."

"When I came here, the other day. You were asleep, and she was the one to answer the door. She took me up to the roof, because she felt like the apartment wasn't a place where she could really talk." He looked at Olivia, who looked so deeply hurt but was trying her best not to show it. He understood how bad he had messed up and he would do anything to make it right, "She was angry, and she had every right to be. I don't blame her for what she said, I deserved to hear it. She did most of the talking, well, yelling but she was right. She was mad that I left, and she was mad that I came back. I get it, I really do. I messed up, and I hurt more people than I intended to."

"She was mad you came back, because she tried her best to forget you. She tried to erase you from her memory because it would hurt less than facing the fact that you were really gone. She did the best she could and right now, she's doing the best she can. She's only seventeen, Elliot. She has the weight of the world on her shoulders."

He nodded, knowing that he had to make things right with the teenager. "I'll talk to her, I'll make it right." Things fell silent, and she was still sitting on the couch. Her muscles were starting to tighten up, making the couch slightly uncomfortable. She moved slightly, in an attempt to adjust herself but her face twisted slightly as a sharp pain twinged in her ribs. "You okay?" He gently questioned as he saw the look of pain on her face.

"M'fine." She said, trying to lessen the questioning about how she was. She was always in pain, she just adjusted to it and tried to ignore it as best she could. She caught him staring at her bruises and lacerations when the conversation lulled. She knew he was curious and trying not to catastrophize in his head about what Lewis had done to her. "I can see you staring at me, you know."

"Sorry – I mean, I apologize. I didn't mean to."

She nodded, appreciating the fact that he immediately recognized he said sorry for the hundredth time. She could tell that he was trying, as best he could. "You already know what happened to me, Fin told you already."

"It doesn't mean anything coming from him," he gently pressed, "I want to hear it from you."


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