I'm willing to bet that she doesn't think I know she's standing there right now. But, I do know. She's somewhere behind me. I lack the eyes in the back of my head that would enable me to know exactly where she's standing, but I know she's there. Truth is, I could smell her in the few short seconds it took for her scent to travel across the room to me. It's almost a shock to my senses, like the first hit of a drug for an addict who's been in withdrawal for a week. In the years we've worked together, her scent has become commonplace to me. Just a normal part of my atmospheric surroundings. I can actually remember every change of perfume that's occurred since the day we became partners. From the young and flowery to the more brazen and independent spicy scents to the soft and ethereal to the one that has just now registered with my nose. It's something soft and spicy, it's warm and it's just her.

Even though I know she's there, I have no idea what to say to her. Perhaps it's because she's standing there that I have no idea what to say to her. I'm pissed as hell at her right now. I have been ever since I showed up to work and found that jackass Blaine waiting for me. Jesus. Haven't I punched out enough partners for the Powers That Be to realize that tossing a new one on me like that is not a good idea? And not in the best interest of the rookie's health, either. Really, though, Blaine I'm not faulting the Powers That Be for. He was Olivia's fault. She left the unit, she left me and I come to the office and get Blaine. Christ. Where's the justice in that?

I don't know what to say, so I just continue to do. I peel off my ruined shirt in front of my open locker door and toss it over my right shoulder, letting it rest there. Too bad, really. I liked that shirt. I grab another shirt from inside, realizing for the first time that it might be a bit sad that I keep up to 3 spare shirts in my locker at any given time. Maybe I ruin too many. Maybe I sweat too much. Maybe I don't do laundry enough at home and have to keep plenty of backups here. Maybe I wind up in the same shirt on too many mornings that I'd been wearing the day before. And, no, not for those reasons…just work…just lots of late nights with Liv. Late nights we're apparently not going to have anymore.

A flash of fury shoots through my brain and I chase away the urge to slam my locker shut. She's still there, after all. I take a deep breath and the fury is replaced by an almost forlorn feeling. This weird sort of hollowness that comes with knowing you're hardly ever going to see somebody you've seen everyday for the last seven years. Holding the clean, blue shirt in my right hand, I pull the ruined shirt off my shoulder with my left hand and unceremoniously deposit it into the locker. I put my arms in the sleeves and shrug the blue shirt up onto my shoulders, my brows coming together for just a moment in a sad sort of confusion, wondering what went wrong. I don't like that feeling, so I swallow it and turn around.

And there she is.

She's leaning her left shoulder on the doorframe just slightly in a compromise between relaxing and not losing any of her stature. Her hands are settled deep in the pockets of her open black suit jacket so I'm unable to read them. Damn. Even at my distance from her I can see that her brown eyes don't focus on mine for long before dropping. They're on my chest for a moment. Or maybe they are on my hands as they adjust the sides of my shirt where they hang loosely open. Either way, her eyes are below my face, and suddenly I have no idea what's going on in her head. I figured she'd come here to chew me out for slugging Blaine and I didn't know how to defend my actions, so I'd tried to just put it off. But this? This I hadn't expected.

Her eyes slowly travel up to mine. Her voice is a bit raspy when she talks, with a trace of laughter woven in and a hint of a smile on her face. "I liked that shirt."

I knew that, of course. That's why I'd liked it.

I can't tell if she's upset because the shirt's now missing almost half its buttons, or if she's mad at me for what I did to cause it to be ruined. I don't know a lot of things right now. I need to.

I fasten a button, leaving the top third of the shirt still open, and work on the buttons below the fastened one. We'll start with the basics. "What're you doin' here?" I didn't mean that to sound as accusatory as I'm pretty sure it came out, really. But I'm frustrated and still waiting for the inevitable scolding.

She raises her eyebrows only slightly, as if to say that I ought to know that. "Heard what happened between you and Blaine." Her tone of voice tells me she's concerned, not angry.

Maybe I don't need to defend myself then. But, I do anyway. I finish buttoning down the shirt and use a hand to close my locker door as I explain, "What can I tell you? He's a prick." While I talk, I watch my hand, not her. When I straighten, I look away, not at her. There's a part of me that feels…I don't know…embarrassed? Ashamed, perhaps, that she knows it took me so short a time to pummel my new partner. I really shouldn't be ashamed. She's seen far worse from me. But, I don't know. Something just feels different. Like I should know better, but don't. That maybe she expects better of me, but I know she doesn't. She just expects me. She always has. Maybe it's just that I'm the one scolding myself for a change. I think she should expect better because I want to be better around her. For her.

When I finally look her in the eye, she drops her eyes in an instant. She drops her head just a moment after that. She hardly ever ducks away from me like that. Unless she's embarrassed about something, too. The way she starts shifting her weight makes me have to know.

I cover the locker room in a few long strides to stand in front of her. She looks up at me as I come near, gauging the speed and intention of my approach. When I stop, she holds my gaze with wide eyes, waiting in silence as I regard her somewhat suspiciously for a few long seconds. "Why didn't you tell me?" I should have sounded angry, but I didn't. I don't really know what I sounded like. I just know that it didn't sound like anything familiar to me.

She dodges my eyes almost immediately then, looking almost threatened. Frightened. Her body doesn't shy away from me, but her eyes do the act for her. She ducks her head a bit, a shorter layer of her hair falling across her cheek, almost covering her right eye. I have to clench and flex my hands at my side to keep from reaching up and tucking the errant strands behind her ear. "Elliot, we've been partners for seven years," she starts, and then she saves me from the hair-tucking urge by lifting her face and gently shaking the hair back into place, "longer than anybody else here."

Tell me something I don't know.

Her eyes continue to dart from my own, around me, to my chest, my mouth, all over. "We needed a change."

Okay, that I didn't know. Well, maybe I did. I just didn't think the change needed to be in the form of her transferring out from under me. Hmmm. Must shake that mental image right now. That one won't get me anywhere. And it's the way she said it so nonchalantly. The only thing missing was a shrug. And come to think of it, I don't think I knew that we needed a change. Maybe she needed a change…and I'd like to know about that, too…but I didn't need one. I liked the status quo. I had my job. I had Olivia. I was good. We were good.

Weren't we?

Apparently not.

Damn. I can feel the muscles in my jaw working overtime and I know the TMJ's gonna be hurtin' tomorrow. I blink a couple times, and choke down the lump that's made itself at home in my throat.

She manages to look me in the eye as she apologizes, her voice still quiet enough for only me to hear and it's on the verge of cracking. "I'm sorry. I should have talked to you." Once she gets that much out, her eyes fall away again. They settle on my mouth, then my throat, anywhere but my eyes. Her glossy mouth moves in silence, searching for words. "It was just…" She closes her lips, shaking her head back and forth a few times, as if scolding herself because nothing she's about to say is a good enough explanation. "It was just too complicated." She hurries through those last words and by the time she gets to "complicated," her eyes have rounded back up to mine.

My own eyes are literally burning right now. It's a horrible feeling that I haven't gotten since staring at her in that godforsaken warehouse. Of course, the main reason I hate this particular burn is because, last time, it resulted in actual tears. And that is not cool. She still can't hold steady eye contact and as she begins to make small nodding motions, her eyes fall and I can't decide if she's trying to convince herself that the answer was satisfactory or to convince me. I don't say anything. I can't. I just watch her.

She musters the courage to raise her pleading brown eyes to mine one more time and suddenly, I know. I know, because the look in her eyes is an imploration, a desperate appeal. I know that what she really wants is for me to convince her that she was right.

Only I can't.

I can't, and my eyes are on fire and my throat feels like I imagine it would if I swallowed a whole ball of Silly Putty. She's begging me to help her out here and I don't know how.

"Thanks for dropping by," I mumble and duck past her into the hallway. If you can't help, don't. If you can't do CPR, don't. It just makes things worse.

I've taken only a few not-so-long steps down the hall when she calls out from behind me. "Elliot, wait!" She's not loud or angry or even insistent. This is her vocal plea. I stop, and before I have a chance to square my shoulders she's speaking again. "Please don't be mad."

Well, shit, now I have to say something. My eyes hurt. "I'm not mad, Liv," I say over my shoulder. "It just…" and now I'm the one searching for words, "hurts."

I hear her sigh. "I know. It hurts me, too."

I turn around and step back up to her. "You're the one who left." Okay, now that definitely sounded accusatory.

She hangs her head a bit. "I know. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry, El, I really am."

I nod, chewing on my lower lip.

She reaches out with a slightly shaky hand and lightly takes a hold of my left upper arm, pushing with her fingertips to move me back toward the locker room. I hesitate, but give her the benefit of the doubt. When I've moved past her and my back is to her, she steps into the room behind me and closes the door behind us. "You're right. I should have told you. I should have talked to you." She steps around in front of me, her heels clicking softly on the tile floor. Her eyes close and she takes a deep breath, looking back up at me with renewed determination. "So, now I'm going to."

Oh, boy.

When she actually starts to tell her side of things, she looks over to my side, past me and I let her. I have a feeling this isn't going to be easy on either of us, so I just watch and listen.

"When we were sitting outside Rebecca Clifford's hospital room, you said something to me."

I said a lot of things to her, actually.

"You told me that we couldn't be partners anymore if we were ever going to choose each other over the job."

Yeah, bad move on my part. Hypocritical more than bad, because I know she'd always be my first choice. I keep my mouth shut now since I didn't back then.

"But then you told me that the job and I were the only things you had left and that you didn't want to wreck that."

I clench my mouth shut a little bit tighter.

"And it was like you just put it all on me and I didn't know what you wanted me to do with that. So I thought that…that maybe if we weren't partners anymore, like you said, that it would mean we'd be allowed to…I don't know…to choose each other. You'd still have your job and you'd always have me. Because I'd always be there for you, El, you know that, right?"

Now she's looking at me. Pleading. Again.

So I look over her head. My goddamned eyes hurt.

"You were my partner, Liv. Of course you were there for me. But now…"

She's watching me intently.

"Now you're not and it's not like we ever saw much of each other outside work, so now when am I ever gonna see you? I don't know if I even want this job if I don't have you, too."

All of a sudden, her warm palm is against my face. "Elliot," she waits until I look at her, "you do have me. I know it's not the same, but you do have me. You always have. Don't you get it, El? I never wanted you to lose me. How could I want that when I never want to lose you?"

The stinging in my eyes is almost unbearable now and my eyelashes are beginning to feel damp. Shit. Her eyes are glistening, too, and holy fuck, I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her and thank her and tell her how stupid she was and how stupid I was and kiss her and apologize and kiss her and hold her and not ever let her go.

She slips the hand that rests on my cheek back only far enough to get her fingers curled around my neck and brings her lips up to mine. Her gloss is slippery against my lips as she settles my lower one between both of hers. The pressure is feather-light and almost shy, like she can't believe she got up the courage to do what she did, yet confident that she did the right thing. I'm content to see where she's going with this, so I just stay still and when she pulls away, her top lip drags down over my bottom lip and she pulls my forehead down to hers. My lips have slid apart to let me breathe and we're currently exchanging air in the minimal space between us. "I made my choice, El."

My hands can't stay still any longer, and I rest them on the curve of her waist, feeling her muscles contract beneath my fingers.

"I chose you…I always would have."