A/N: I am not wasteful with my words anymore. Even now after hundreds of hours of practicing away my stutter, I still feel the claw of meaning in the bottom of my throat. I have heard that even in space; You can hear the scratching of an I-I-I-I love you. - Phil Kaye

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.

"Say something," Elliot demanded of his father, staring at the older, frazzled man as he kicked off his sneakers. He didn't even flinch at the loud bangs they made when they hit the wall. "Not that you're sorry, though, we all know you're not. Give me one reason I shouldn't call Ma!" He scoffed and shook his head.

He'd expected to get back to the dorms, take DJ to his room and read him a bedtime story, then take the world's hottest shower with Olivia, but arriving to see his father waiting for them at their door completely changed his plans. It had sent him into a rage he'd never felt before, one that he knew worried Liv, but he'd managed to calm down once they made their way into the small room. He'd tossed off his coat and focused his anger at the man in front of him, who owed the world an explanation.

Joe sighed as she bit his lip, looking from his son to Olivia and back again. "I don't have a lot of time," he checked his watch and then shot a concerned look toward the window. "They think I'm out on a collection." He looked back at Elliot, watching as he pulled off his socks with a sour look on his face. "I just came to tell you I love you, and this is part of the job, Elliot." He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a small, silver cross on a broken chain. "This...has been with me since my eighteenth birthday." He held it out to his son. "When I get back, they're gonna frisk me, take anything and everything they think is worth something, and this…" he choked on his words, shook his head again. "They ain't getting this."

Elliot squinted as he took the tarnished cross from his father. "What did you get yourself wrapped up in, Dad?" He looked up, confused, and asked, "Couldn't they have gotten someone else? Someone who didn't have a Goddamn family?"

Joe gave him a sad smile. "Part of the job," he repeated with a shrug. "I fit the mold, Kid. I was the right build, the right age, being Irish cinched it." He reached for his son, grabbing his shoulder. "I don't know how long this is gonna take, I need you to trust me, here. I'm gonna be fine, I'm on the job, people have my back just like…" he smirked. "One day, the two of you will have each other's in the field. That's your plan, right? No matter what I say or do, that's how you wanna play it, and I am so damn proud of you for standing up for it." He pulled hard, bringing Elliot in for a hug, and when he let him go, he slapped his back twice. Then, he turned toward Olivia.

"Be careful," she said politely, backing up and wrapping her arms around herself.

Joe closed his eyes and let out a breath. "What happened at dinner the other night…" he licked his lips. "I didn't mean to…"

"I know you don't think I'm good enough for him," she brought one shoulder up to her ear. "Hell, I agree with you," she breathed. "And maybe one day we will realize this is all some huge mistake, and maybe he only did it to keep my mother from killing me, but it's our mistake to make." She pressed her lips together and nodded again. "You know I'll never be able to repay him, or you for everything you've done for me. I know why you got so mad that…"

"The truth, Olivia," Joe interrupted, "I was angry because I wasn't there. I was upset that you two felt there was no other way, so you made a rash decision that took away a lot of opportunities, including…" he paused to clear his throat. "I would have walked you down the aisle, sweetheart, when the time came. I'm not mad that my son married you, not at all. I'm mad that he did it at sixteen because I failed as a father. I couldn't do what needed to be done in time, and now…" he shrugged dejectedly. "I'm paying for it." He took a step closer to her. "It was my job to protect you, both of you. Serena was never supposed to be a threat, ever again."

Elliot spoke up, then. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Joe shoved his hands in his pockets. "No time for that, now," he said fast. He kissed Olivia's cheek, hugged Elliot again, and said, "Take care of DJ, and each other. I'll be home...when this is over." He gave a sad smile, then walked across the floor and left the dorm room, without looking back.

"Damn," Elliot hissed, and then he turned to look at Olivia. "At least he apologized for what he said to you." He chuckled. "Kind of." He kissed her softly. "Now I really do need a shower." He shuddered and swatted her ass playfully, goading her toward the bathroom. He watched her move, then closed his eyes. He mumbled a quiet prayer as he ran his thumb along the curves and edges of his father's cross. He set the silver necklace down on the nearest desk, then pulled his sweater off over his head and tossed it to the floor. He headed for the bathroom, smirking as he heard the water start to rush. "Babe?"

"Yeah," she called over her shoulder, she held his gaze while she dropped the last bit of clothing away from her body, tilted her head as she grabbed the shower curtain, and smiled when she stepped over the edge of the tub. "You coming in with me, or do you think you're just gonna get a secondhand steam clean by standing there and staring?

He laughed as she hopped and kicked his way out of his pants, then moved, naked, toward the shower. He held the curtain with one hand, the other making sure Olivia didn't slip, and then he stepped under the hot spray with her.

His hands found a sponge and the body wash, hers found the shampoo, and they took turns lathering each other. Elliot's fingers traced the outlines of every muscle, traced over every scar, and he leaned into her while slowly scrubbing the sponge down her back. "We didn't make a mistake," he whispered to her, "And I will never feel like we did." He pressed into her as he backed her up, under the hot water, letting the sponge drop so he could brush away the suds and foam with his hands. He looked down, following the path his touch traveled, eyeing faded marks in her skin. He remembered how she got each and every one, remembered what they once looked like: red, angry, fresh, raw, bleeding, bruised, broken. He dropped his forehead to hers, then sought out her lips, claiming them in a heated kiss as he mentally thanked God that her scars were nothing more than that, that she was here, living, breathing, in his arms. "I love you," he voiced against her lips.

Her arms wound around his neck as she eagerly returned his kiss. "I love you," she whispered to him. Her eyes closed as her head fell back against the tiles, she hooked one leg around his hip and with a moan of his name, lost herself in the absolute salvation he so willingly offered.

Across the hall, Trevor was halfway through a shower of his own when a frantic knock on his door interrupted him. "Christ almighty," he grumbled, turning off the water and wrapping a towel around his waist. "Fucking bullshit, why the fuck did I agree to this RA gig?" He clung to the knot as he ran to his door, opening it with a harsh, "What the fuck, man?" He squinted when he realized who it was. "Abs, what's the matter?"

Abby pushed her way into his room, ignoring his state of damp half-nakedness, and she dropped into his couch. "You were with Liv and El for two days, you find out if that son of a bitch…"

"No, uh," Trevor pulled his towel tighter around him, "McCoy was actually tailing Serena to keep her away from Liv. You do realize it's after midnight, what are you…"

Carmichael held up a small, black box. "I wasn't talking about McCoy," she said, and then she tossed the box at him. She clapped sarcastically when he caught it and then her eyes dropped. She smirked at his current state and leaned back on the sofa. "I was talking about his father."

Trevor shook the box. "What is this?" He tossed it back to her, laughing as it hit her in the shoulder and dropped to the cushion beside her, then moved behind the couch, ducked, and turned so Abby wouldn't see him as pulled on a pair of sweatpants.

"Oh, nothing," Abby said as she grabbed the box, tossed it, caught it, and tossed it again. "Just the bug I watched Joe Stabler slap on their door." She shook the box and said. "Snapped it off the door, cut the wire, they never have to know." She plopped the box and broken bug on Trevor's coffee table and sighed.

"Why the hell would his father…" he tilted his head. "His father was here? Are you sure?"

"I know what the man looks like, Langan," she said dryly. "I saw him walk out of their room, shut the door, he even looked around to see if anyone was around before he pulled that thing out of his pocket and stuck it on the hinges." She smiled proudly. "I ducked into a corner when I saw him, I was walking back from the bathroom," then she looked around and scoffed. Some of us have to use the communal slums," she teased. "RAs get doubles to themselves, Benson and Stabler pulled some miracle out of their asses and got one, and because I don't play nice with others, I'm in a single down the hall, across from a girl who only speaks through sock puppets and a guy who jerks off nine times a night and sings tenor opera when he cums."

Trevor laughed and crossed his arms, then looked at his door. "They don't need anymore shit," he eyes Abby again. "None of us do."

Abby got up and nodded. "That's why I banged down your door and not theirs." She slapped him in the shoulder and headed for the door. "See you tomorrow," she said, and she gave him a small smile.

Trevor smiled back but then looked at the box on his table. "Why the fuck?" he asked himself, and he dropped into a nearby chair, wondering what reason Joe Stabler could have to bug his son. He checked the clock on the wall, groaned, and padded toward his bedroom, reminding himself to make a call to someone in the morning who could find out for him.

A/N: I know it's been a while. Thanks for reading.