A/N: The cross, the capital, the pale families, the fear and the mouthpieces (Rage Against the Machine)

DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story, words, and dialogue are mine. © TStabler

Elliot's in the middle of pouring himself his fourth cup of coffee in less than six hours, a habit he thinks he's picking up from Olivia and not from his newly heightened levels of stress and exhaustion. He turns, knowing someone is staring at him, and he sighs as he speaks. "I'm not supposed to have to deal with you for another three weeks, Doc."

Skoda chuckles. "Just checking on you," he shrugs. "Your situation is a bit more dire than it was a week ago, figured you might need to talk. Maybe seek some advice."

"And what's that supposed to mean, exactly?" Elliot sips his coffee as he stares skeptically at Skoda. He takes a few steps toward his desk and pushes the sleeve of his left arm up a bit higher.

"This, uh, turn at the captain's wheel wasn't as temporary as you'd hoped." Skoda tilts his head and looks at the state of Elliot's desk. More files than one small surface can hold, stacks of photos and pink and yellow sticky notes. "You're refusing to use the office, yet you're not out there with your partner and she's not in here...that's gotta be causing a lot of…"

"Look," Elliot gruffs as he drags a hand over his face, "We got swamped. Trust me. Is much rather have her in here…" he licks his lips and shakes his head. "Or I'd rather be out there." His eyebrows work up and down once and he takes another sip of his coffee. "I figured out why the brass handed me the keys."

Skoda smirks. "Enlighten me," he says, and he props himself up on the side of Olivia's desk. He folds his hands into his lap and waits.

"Their way of keeping me on a leash," Elliot scoffs. "Ya know, with Cragen gone, I'd be more of a loose cannon, no one around to reel me in, no telling what rules I'd break or what risks I'd take." He exhales as he plops into his seat and he picks up two of the files from the hefty pile. "Their way of keeping me too busy to break an arm in interrogation or shoot to kill on the street…"

"Is that what you think?" Skoda sucks in a breath at the stunned and inquisitive look on Elliot's face. "You are one of the best detectives this city has ever seen, sure you break rules and a couple of bones, but it's never just because you're a loose cannon. You're more determined to get the scum off the streets than anyone in the department, you're rightly pissed off at the rapists and pedos, and you're one of the only guys in the unit with a family. Kids. You collar a guy for raping a child, you instantly think of your own, and you still do the job. Fighting with your emotions the whole time."

Elliot drops the files and licks his lips again. One eyebrow quirks. "Yeah," he whispers.

Skoda raises a hand and points to him. "You're so used to seeing your own faults and failures, because that's the guy your father saw. But you stop and try to look at yourself the way the city sees you, the way your kids see you, the way...the way Olivia sees you." He smiles slightly when he notices Elliot's eyes widen a bit, the corners of his mouth tug. "You spend so much time and energy helping everyone else...people you don't even know...that you don't even have dregs left to help yourself. It takes a lot of strength to do what you do, Elliot. You're stronger than most people give you credit for, but if you don't start to talk about what's going on inside your head…"

"What's that gonna get me, huh?" Elliot interrupts. He scratches at the side of his face. "I tried to talk to Kathy once...she couldn't even stand to be in the same house as me afterwards. Left, took the kids to her mother's for a week. All she said to me was that now she understood why I was so angry all the time."

Skoda reaches out a hand and grabs a frame off of Elliot's desk. He looks at the photograph and he lets himself smile fully. "You got some beautiful kids," he says, and then he holds the frame out to Elliot. "But the woman in this picture isn't Kathy. You talk to her, don't you?"

Elliot's face falls into a countenance of serenity and absolute love as he looks at the picture and wraps a hand around the silver frame. "About everything, anything, she…"

"So why'd you bring up Kathy?" Skoda taps the frame. "Stop holding onto the things in your past that you regret, that you can't change. Your father, your divorce, your infractions at work...and start living the life you deserve to live with that beautiful woman and those incredible kids who don't even consider a single moment from your past a failure."

Elliot's mouth opens, he's about to say something, make a confession, but loud shouts from the doorway stop him before he can. He stands as he watches Olivia and Fin storm into the squadroom.

"You didn't even tell me where you were going!" Olivia tells, there's a balled up paper towel in her hand, pressed against the side of her head.

Fin rolls his eyes and throws up his hands. "I always run to head the pricks off at the pass!"

"Well, how the hell would I know that? I'm not Munch, in case you haven't noticed! I'm used to actually communicating with my partner!" Olivia snaps, and she moves the paper towel as she shakes a hand in Fin's direction. "You're fucking lucky that taxi stopped when it did, because I would have…"

"What the hell is going on?" Elliot asks. He moves fast, grabs Olivia's head, examines the cut above her eye. "How the fuck did this happen?"

Olivia sighs and rolls her eyes. "We were chasing Velendez, I thought we were gonna flank him and take him down, but then Sideways Steve over there bolts across the street without telling me, it gave Velendez a window, he grabbed a knife off of a vendor's cart and threw it at me."

Fin shakes his head. "I was gonna run out in front of him from the other direction, get in his way! I didn't mean to…"

"Well, you did!" Olivia barks, and she looks back at Elliot who's taken the paper towel out of her hand and is holding it to her head himself. "Velendez ran out into the street, right into the side of a cab. I got him cuffed, read him his rights, and Fin was still on the other side of the damn street." She whispers, then, "I can't do this. I can't work with him. He's not…" she sighs. "He's not you."

Elliot nods, hiding the cocky grin on his face with a hand. He takes a long look at her, hiding his approval at the way her maroon suit clings to her curves. "Where is Velendez?" He looks at Fin.

Fin brushes off the sleeves of his black jacket and says, "Down in processing," then he clears his throat. "Look, man, I'm sorry! I'm used to Munch knowing and expecting…"

"And I'm used to Elliot talking to me before making a move! You can talk and run at the same time, can't you?" Olivia asks, then she relents. "Whatever, we got the guy, he lawyered up in the car. As soon as the public defender gets here, we can talk to him."

Elliot leans closer to her. "This doesn't look too bad," he says, and he moves for a moment to get a band-aid out of his drawer.

She breathes him in as he peels the paper off of the bandage. His cologne and his soap mix together in her lungs and she moans softly. She notices his untucked shirt, loosened tie, the way his pockets are stuffed with tissues and rumpled papers, and she has to ask. "Are you okay?"

He lightly presses the band-aid over her cut. "I have to be," he says, and then he looks at Fin. "You need to watch your partner's back, no matter who it is, or where you are. You're telling me that it's common practice for you to run in the opposite direction, across the damn street, leaving Munch to fend for himself?" He rubs his temples, mumbles something about wondering how Cragen managed to stay sober, and he starts to say something else but the phone on his desk rings at the same time as his cell phone.

Skoda watches as Elliot winces and digs his cell phone out of his pocket and answers both calls at once. He smooths his hands down the sleeves of his black shirt and purses his lips. Maybe once a month isn't gonna be enough.

When the night is over, and the kids are fed and in bed, Olivia takes the chance she knows she needs to take. She shifts in her spot on the couch, drops her bare feet to the plush carpet, and grabs both of his hands. "Rough day," she says. It's a question, an observation, and an accurate statement.

He makes an agreeable noise as he tilts his head. "How's your head?" he asks, and he narrows his eyes when she starts pulling him up and off the sofa. He pulls on his tee shirt as he speaks. "Tired? We heading to bed?"

"You've done enough talking today." She leads him to the stairs and tells him, "I heard you yell, a lot, and you wrote Fin up twice."

"He threatened a victim," he defends, and he starts to say something else but her hand moves fast, cups his mouth. He raises an eyebrow.

She presses her hand deeper against his mouth as she guides him toward the bedroom door. "Just be quiet," she whispers, and her other hand drops his before she tugs on the elastic of his flannel pants.

And the articles of clothing are peeled away, the same way they'd been when they walked through the door a few hours ago, they end up in the same pile as the suits and silk shirts. His and hers. Entangled. Meshed. Everything in the house, in their lives, is joined and tethered. The thought makes him moan as he kisses her and he remembers that there's something he wants to ask her. Before he can even open his mouth, as if she knows, she shakes her head. He smirks at her and follows her commands as she pushes him onto the bed.

She straddles him, slowly making her way up his strong, muscular body, and she surprises him by moving her hand fast and letting her handcuffs dangle from her fingers. "You have the right to remain silent," she whispers, and she chuckles as she cuffs him to the bed the way he'd done to her only a few nights ago. Once he's latched, she drags her nails slowly down his arms, remembering how incredibly worked up he'd been all day, how intensely pressured he'd been all night. The chief of D's had strolled into the unit just after three and didn't leave until they did, Elliot had to run the ship under scrutiny, he had to boss his friends around, he had to sign more documents today than he had in the last two months, and she knows that this is what he needs. The only thing that will give him a way out of his own head tonight.

He keeps his curious eyes on hers, their stare is always intense but there's something different in her eyes, tonight. Something almost unforgiving. He gasps when he feels one of her fingers graze his shaft, his hips rise slightly in response.

A small satisfied chuckle escapes her, she feels him harden and stiffen in her hand. As she starts to slowly stroke him, she leans over to him. "In case it wasn't clear," she whispers, "You're not in charge here." She moans when his dick twitches under her touch. "You like that, huh?" she says, and she licks her lips as she speeds up, tightens her grip.

He's been awake for almost forty-eight hours, disturbed before falling asleep and called into clerical duties for hours before his shift had officially started. He hasn't shaved, hasn't been able to take a deep breath, and he's holding the weight of Cragen's secrets along with the fear that he's going to fail and let down his children, his Olivia. He opens his mouth, but the way she glares at him and pulls harder on his dick silences him except for the muffled curse he growls.

It's been killing her watching him take on too much, too soon, without any preparation or desire to do it, and here, now, she is taking that confining control away from him and forcing him to submit, relent, relax. It's something he'd told her he'd needed long ago, and something she's happily supplying for him. "Don't fight it," she whispers to him.

He can't help it, he obeys. He bucks his hips upward, fucking her hand, his eyes close and roll behind his lids. All he can focus on is the way she's touching him. One soft hand stroking him hard, applying the perfect amount of pressure to bring him over the edge fast while the other hand rests on his chest and squeezes into his sore muscles. "Liv," he whispers. "Fuck, Liv, I…"

Her lips slant over his, both silencing his words and muffling his grunts as he cums. She moans against his lips as he shoots out over her hand, his thighs, and she pulls away from him and holds his gaze as she slinks down his body.

He's moaning softly, almost whimpering. She's still slowly stroking him, his hot, sensitive dick growing more angrily heated with every pass of her palm. His eyes pop as he watches her tongue dart out, he doesn't blink as she licks the evidence of his climax off of his thighs, he holds his breath as she cleans up her wrist and knuckles before taking his overworked cock into her mouth. As soon as he feels himself slipping down her throat, he moans her name again. "Fuck, I need to touch you."

She hums around him as she shakes her head, and slowly she pulls him out of her mouth for a brief moment to say, "Shut up, Elliot."

Her brown eyes sparkle as she sinks down on him again and he feels his legs begin to burn. He bites the inside of his cheek as his stomach muscles clench and twist, his knees pop off the mattress and slide against her skin because he craves more of her. His eyes roll back again and his thighs start to shake. One of her hands is pulling at and rolling his balls as she takes all of him into her hot, wet mouth, and he's already too close to cumming again. His grunts and muffled swears filter through the room and he thanks God he had the good sense to close and lock the door.

It amazes her, the look in his eyes right before he cums. It's as if every secret he has is exploding into blue and green spirals of love, lust, need, pride, guilt, hope, and infatuation. Every emotion is clear and present despite the clouding and overwhelming of certain ones over the others, and they're all hidden behind shock and surprise, as if he can't believe he's here, like this, with her. She sucks a little harder, takes him down a little deeper, and rolls his balls a little more, because she needs him to believe it all.

He strains himself as he pulls on the cuffs, hoping they snap, knowing they won't. "Liv, baby, please?" he whispers, and he knows she won't give in, but he tries. "Ah, fuck," he spits out, and then his mouth clamps shut, his jaw tightens, his eyes squeeze shut, and he lets go. His chest heaves as he cums again, this time he feels her throat contract around him as she swallows every shot. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he spits out quickly, the immense pleasure just enough to outshine the pain and horrible sensitivity.

She smirks as she slips away, keeping her mouth around the pulsing head of his cock. This need of his has always infatuated her, she'd never imagined he'd get off on sustained stimulation and post-orgasmic pain, but it has been one of the kinks he's had to deny himself for so many years, that now she feels that it's her right and blessing to give it to him whenever possible. He doesn't even have to ask for it anymore. She sucks one last time and then pulls herself away from him, watching his chest rise and fall the way it does after a five-mile run or a round in the boxing ring.

He wheezes as he inhales, feeling her body moving up his, her skin against him, her hands running up his arms. He's hopeful as he opens his eyes and he silently begs her to uncuff him. He cranes his neck to kiss her, and when he finds her lips and tongue, he greedily deepens it.

While one of her hands curls around the back of his head, the other moves under his pillow, finds the small, silver key, and she gives him what she knows he wants, because what is about to happen requires the use of his hands. She twists and unlocks him, and pulls herself away from him and whispers, "You're not in control."

He nods, understanding, as his hands slide down to her hips. He gasps loudly when she sinks over and onto him, his cock still burning, still incredibly sore and sensitive to her wet heat. He lets out a frustrated, strangled moan when he feels her clenching already, because he knows from experience, this is going to be fast, strong, intense. He grips her ass and nods at her, and he readies himself for what's coming.

The eye contact between them remains unfaltering, her body rocks and rolls against his. Her fingers trail up and down his chest, she moans every time a muscle twitches, and she mouths something to him and smiles before her palms smooth over his nipples.

He will never get tired of watching the way she rides him, the erotic look on her face that seems to be drawn directly from fantasies he's had about her, ones that are now his reality. He moans as she twists and toys with his nipples, the motions sending more shockwaves down his spine directly to his dick. He thrusts himself upward involuntarily, and he prays she's aware of it. "Baby, I can't…"

Her body leans forward and she practically forces one of her nipples into his mouth, needing to shut him up, and she moans when he takes the bait. "Oh, God, Elliot," she cries, directly into his ear. "God, I love what you do to me," she whimpers, her body rocks a little faster, she rises and falls and meets his bucking hips a little harder. "I fucking love the way you make me feel." She nips at his earlobe, bites it and pulls, then as she lets it go, she whispers, "I love you."

He grunts as the last word hits him, he grabs her hips and feels her slamming down on him harder and harder, over and over again. He knows his fingers are digging into her skin hard enough to bruise again, but he also knows now that she's a fast healer and she fucking loves when he leaves his marks. "Baby," he says through a tightly shut jaw, "I love you, too."

She moves her head in time to scream into his mouth, her body going fully rigid and clamping him so hard that he can't move at all.

He holds her as she vibrates, as her hips rock fast as tightly pressed to him as possible. He cums with a trembling, almost painful growl, but moans as he strokes his hands along her skin as she rides out her orgasm, as powerful and violent as it is. He keeps kissing her, brings one hand up to work through her hair as they try to calm themselves down. He knows if he opens his eyes, he won't see anything, he's lost vision. All of his senses are weak, except for touch, because he can feel everything intensified by at least five.

She slows their kiss, deepens it, unravels her hands from the sheets, spalys them over his chest and whispers something to him.

He laughs and says, "God, me, too. Never. Just with you. Only you, baby." He brushes her hair back and blinks his eyes open, squinting at the pain of the dim light coming in from the window. "You...you knew I was…"

"I know you," she whispers, and she drops three soft kisses to his chest as she settles against him. "Maybe you can get some sleep, tonight," she says.

He nods as he stifles a yawn, this experience taking it's exhaustive toll on him, but as he cuddles her closer and shifts into a more comfortable part of the bed, he says, "Baby, uh, something Skoda said to me today…really got to me."

"I thought you ignored everything he says," she says with a slight smirk. Her nails are dragging up and down the side of his body as she rises and falls with his chest from his still-heavy breathing.

"Usually, I do, but this…" he exhales. "I'm not holding back with you, you know that, don't you?"

She lifts her head and is surprised to see him staring right at her. "I'm pretty sure we don't keep anything from each other," she whispers. "You've let me into parts of you that…"

"I mean," he interrupts her, and he shifts again to wrap himself around her more. "I'm not trying to keep us from...taking the next step, here. I'm not purposely avoiding labelling this as...what it is...because of what happened with Kathy."

Her head tilts and her eyes narrow. "Is this about what I said the other day about you not talking to me? I was kidding, I know you aren't doing what you did…"

"No, no, just," he clears his throat and rolls them over, peering down at her is easier than looking up. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't just mean because you give into my fetishisms and feed into my idiosyncrasies." He licks his lips. "You make me happy, whether we're at work, in bed, asleep, washing the damn dishes, especially when we're with the kids. You...you've never made me feel weak, or like…" he shrugs. "You've never judged me by my mistakes, you've never held them against me."

"What the hell did Skoda say to you?" she raises an eyebrow and cups his face. "I'm not leaving you, I'm…"

"No," he laughs, and he holds his hands over hers on his cheeks. "He just made me realize that I can't keep holding onto things I think of as failures and use them as excuses to keep me from living the way I want to with you and the kids." He kisses her and he whispers something into her ear, the question he's been holding onto for almost a week, the words he's been too afraid to speak to her.

Her eyes glimmer with the buildup of tears and her lip trembles as she tries to smile at him. "Are you sure that's what…"

"You've talked about it so often...and every time you bring it up...especially now," he smiles at her and bends his head to kiss away the few falling tears. "Yes. Couple of things to take care of first, but...yes. I'm absolutely sure."

She kisses him, hard, and nods as their foreheads press together. Their laughter fills the room and the sheer joy between them ignites a new bond between them as they snuggle close and settle into each other, into sleep.

With the choices and promises they've made fresh in their minds, they dream it all into existence, unaware that something heading their way is about to make it all so much more complicated.

A/N: What choice? What promise? What did he ask her? What's complicated?