This one starts after the shooting, and after Elliot's scene in the car with Ayanna telling him to move on, then travels through the OC episode An Inferior Product, 1x5… Including a certain diner scene that went missing.

Let's be real. This is my therapy at this point.

ALSO, I'm new to twitter so follow me and we'll be ridiculous together while I figure that whole world out. WadeRebel

Trying to figure out why you're pissed at me.

She reads the text and asks herself the same thing. She's fuming, but he didn't do anything wrong.

Not this time, at least. Why is she so worked up?

I don't know, she responds. Because lately if she doesn't reply, or answer the phone, or call him back, she gets this thick, tight knot in her stomach.

Maybe she's pissed about the fact that she can't seem to shake him. That despite her trying to keep her distance and set boundaries, she finds herself fully embracing every chance she gets to see him. She's been wanting to protect herself, yet she throws herself into a case with him like they're right back where they left off. But they're not.

Maybe she's pissed because it's the first time in ten years that she could be with him after a traumatic event but everyone around her is telling her to stay away.

Okay… So we're good?

God, he keeps asking that. Maybe he has just as much anxiety about their relationship as she does.

She texts back solely because she wants to end the conversation. Yeah, we're fine.

Yeah, we're fine, the text reads.

Elliot's grip on his phone tightens. He knows her well enough to know something's wrong, but Olivia shutting the conversation down means she needs time. It's not what he wanted. He wanted to see her, to talk to her. Be with her. But he needs to respect her space.

The push and pull between them—the dissonance that is still palpable. Fuck. It's driving him nuts. He can't seem get it right.

He needs her. In ways he can't explain. He wants her to know that but he keeps fucking it up.

His memory flashes to the barrel of the gun. The shots. The glass.

The bomb.

The tips of his fingers dig into the bridge of his nose. He keeps losing people.

He wants her.

"You need to find someone else."

Ayanna's words ring in his ears from earlier and his mind immediately goes to Angela. There was a connection there from the beginning. He felt understood when he was with her. He could seek guidance as a widower. He could be who he wanted to be without his past haunting him.

He hasn't hurt her.

No history, no complications. Just a beautiful, smart, empathetic woman.

Before he knows it, he's on her balcony.

"Uncle K," the say simultaneously. She can't help the smile that lights her face. There's something addicting about being so in sync with another person, and it reminds her of why she never attempted a promotion while he was still around. She loved this. They were great together.

They formulate a plan and the crew spends some time preparing.

Olivia checks her watch. "I'm going to grab some lunch. I'll meet you back here in an hour."

Elliot follows. "Liv." She turns back to him. "I'll buy."

If there's one thing missing from this case they're working, it's them grabbing lunch together. She bites her lip, wondering how much time outside of the job she should allow, but they've also been working together so well.

"I just want to talk," he says.

Gauging the sincerity in his eyes and how much she's enjoyed his company this week, she nods.

"So, you wanted to talk…" she prompts after they order.

He grins at the way she cuts to the chase. Thoughts in the dozens race through his head. There's so much to say. He wonders which topic to start with. "This has been nice," he says. "Working this case together… It's like old times."

A smile graces her lips, but she looks away, out the window. He's deflecting, of course, from whatever it is he really wanted to say. But she can't deny that she has looked forward to seeing him almost every day this week. Time has nothing on their synchronicity.

"I never had a partner after you that I work this well with," he says. "Feels good. The team is impressed with you, too."

She nods slowly. "Yeah. It's nice. But the difference between then and now is that I don't dodge uncomfortable topics anymore." She looks back at him, then sips her coffee. "This isn't what you wanted to talk about."

He laughs as her directness once again. "You're right. Sorry," he says. "I guess I've had this need lately to make sure we're okay."

"I've noticed that."

He rubs the back of his neck. "I think… I think I'm just terrified of losing you again."

It's the smallest things sometimes that get under her skin. "Lose me?" she says, her eyebrows raise. Then she leans forward and lowers her voice to a harsh whisper, so as not to start a loud fight in a quiet diner. "You didn't lose me, Elliot. You walked out on me."

"I know." He shakes his head. "I'm not saying it wasn't my fault. It was. But that doesn't mean I didn't…" He falters, doesn't know how to get her to understand how much of a loss she was. Unable to think of the right words, he changes course. "When you told me about your brother, it gutted me to know you went through that and I wasn't there for you."

She stares. He has no clue that Simon was barely the tip of the iceberg when it came to the moments she needed him. Even so, she believes him. She knows he's sorry. She knows there's more to it than just deserting her. And she can't punish him forever.

"I can't imagine what else you've been through in the last ten years that I should have been there for."

My old partner—he'd know what to do.

She shakes the thought from her mind, then reaches for his hand. She wants to move on from her anger. "It's okay, Elliot," she says with a light squeeze. "I didn't mean to get upset."

She never noticed how touchy she was until Elliot came back into her life. She uses touch often for comfort and friendship. Normally, she doesn't think twice about it. But now she remembers why they kept their hands so intentionally to themselves when they were partners.

It's because she notices it. She feels it like a drug rippling through her veins from the pads of her fingers.

Her heart skips a beat. And she's reminded that the boundaries of ten years ago have changed when he locks her hand in with his thumb.

"Can I ask you a question?" he says.

"Of course."

"When you were angry with me after the attempted hit… Do you think it's because you're still angry about me disappearing? Maybe waiting for something to be mad at me about?"

She takes her hand back—the overpowering touch mixed with the feelings of abandonment creating a contrast too uncomfortable to keep. She fiddles with the handle of her coffee cup. "I'm sure it is," she says honestly. "I don't mean to stay mad… It just… comes and goes."

He nods in understanding. "I… I want to make the past ten years go away, but it feels like we'll never get past it."

Her brows furrow slightly. Why would he think that when she's done nothing but support him since he's been back?

"We've already pushed past more than I ever thought possible, Elliot… You have to give me time. Give yourself time." She thinks about the fact that if he hadn't gone through something tragic when they were brought back together, they wouldn't be here at all.

The food arrives and they thank the waitress. Olivia takes her fork to the tomatoes and sets them to the side. When she looks up, Elliot's eyeing them with a smirk.

She chuckles. "Just take them, Elliot." He does. Then after a few bites of her lunch, she risks it. "Anything about the other night… that meeting… that you want to talk about?" Her heart pounds in her chest as the words leave her mouth.

I love you.

Elliot looks up at her, then swallows. She knows that he knows what she's referring to, but he either has no idea how to approach it or will try to deflect again.

"Look, I know you didn't mean to say it," Olivia says quietly. "So, I understand if you're not ready to talk about it. But… when you are ready…"

Elliot sets his fork down and nods nervously, avoiding eye contact. "I do want to, um… I think I should probably tell you…"

She wasn't expecting him to be this flustered. He's had days to digest what he said that night. Days to think about how to approach it. Even if he wanted to deny it, he's had plenty of time to come up with an excuse.

"Liv… uh… Do you know who Angela Wheatley is?"

The subject change throws Olivia, but she recognizes the name. "Is that your suspects wife?"

"Ex-wife."

"Ah. What about her?"

"She lost a partner. Not Wheatley. Someone who died a long time ago. We, uh… Angela and I… We sort of… connected over that."

Needles start to sink into Olivia's chest. She stops eating, sits back in her chair, suddenly losing her appetite and feeling like she might need the distance. "Okay…" She, too, sets her silverware down, wipes her hand on her napkin. She prepares herself.

Elliot swipes his hand down his face, looks out the window, then to the table. "Jesus…"

Olivia doesn't have the time or patience for this anymore. Her voice is steady and serious. "Look at me when you say it."

Her demand cuts straight to his stomach and he lifts his eyes to hers. The words, however, get lost.

She presses her lips together, glances out the window just for a moment, then back. After a breath, "Did you sleep with her?"

"No—god no. No."

"But…"

"I kissed her."

She nods, never taking her eyes off him. She's outwardly stoic, inwardly falling apart. "Your suspect's ex-wife."

He clears his throat. "Yeah."

"Okay."

"Liv…"

She shakes her head. "Just stop."

"I didn't mean for it to happen."

"Right…"

"You and I…"

"No." She starts to make her escape, setting the napkin from her lap onto the table. "I can't do this, Elliot."

"Just wait," he begs. "Don't leave until I explain. Please."

"Explain?" she repeats.

"Yes."

She veers her eyes toward the window again, bites down on both lips. She shakes her head and tells herself not to cry over this anymore.

"I needed to feel something."

Her eyes close. So far, she's not liking his explanation.

"And with everything you and I have been through… There's so much history there, Liv. I put you through hell, we had just fought… I didn't think…"

She barely hears anything he's saying. She feels like she's in another time. This feeling is too familiar.

"Liv? Are you hearing me?"

She looks back up at him, then stands from her seat. "You know, Elliot, this is all starting to feel very 2006."

"What?"

"I have to go."

She's walking out the door the next moment.

He's on her heels, though. "I thought you don't avoid uncomfortable topics now, Liv!"

She slows down, sighing deeply before she convinces herself to stop on the sidewalk.

Maybe she still avoids one, she thinks.

She feels him right behind her, but she's not sure that she can keep her tears at bay, so she doesn't turn around.

"And this topic is one you and I have never been able to confront," he says.

She wonders why he's still stepping closer. He knows she can hear him. He doesn't need to be this close.

"If we're honest with ourselves," he adds, "we always refused to confront it because it meant we had to take responsibility for it."

"Liv… Look at me, please."

His hand lands on her waist. She's not sure if it's a good or bad sting she feels with it, but she steps away, brushing his hand off, and turns around to look at him.

They stand on the sidewalk and just stare for a few tense moments, both trying to figure out what to say.

What about me?

"It was never going to be me, was it?"

His brows crease. "What are you talking about?"

"Rebecca Hendrix?" she says. His face softens. "Your partner while I was in Oregon, Dani?... Now Angela Wheatley." Olivia closes her eyes, shakes her head. "Have I been a fool to think we had anything more than just a partnership?"

Elliot scoffs, sways on his heels. "C'mon, Liv…"

"No, Elliot. You wanted to talk. Let's talk! Why her? Why them?" She takes a quaking breath, then asks a question decades in the making. "Why not me?"

"Because I'm fucking terrified of my feelings for you!"

The drastic change in tone and volume jolt her and she steps back. Her eyes immediately start to sting.

"They're too intense! Every fucking cell in my body feels like they're on fire if all you do it touch my goddam hand, Olivia!" His breathing is ragged. "How fucked up is it that when I'm not obsessing about my wife's murderer, I'm thinking about you." He lets out a humorless laugh. "As if for twenty years I've ever been able to stop."

"Elliot…"

He encroaches in on her space, his passion and anger still painfully present. "And she knew it, Liv," he says. "Kathy always knew. So, don't tell me there wasn't more to us. I took you into my marriage every fucking day for over twenty years."

She's overwhelmed by his proximity and intensity. His words. She focuses on a button on his chest. "But we never—"

"Maybe you didn't," he says. And she can't act like she doesn't know what he means. He backs away just a few inches to give her space to look up at him.

She does. "El..."

"I love you, Olivia," he interrupts. "I've loved you since long before I ever should have loved you. So, when I do kiss you…" he lets the ends of her hair slide through his fingers. He glances at her lips. "When I make love to you…" He meets her eyes. "It won't be some confused stumble. It will be deliberate, passionate, and something in which we are both very, very sure. Got it?"

Their faces are so close, and she wonders if he's noticed that she can barely breathe.

Her phone chimes. It might be her saving grace. She looks down to read the message, then takes a deep breath to steady herself. She looks back up with a more confident smirk. "They caught Uncle K. We're due back at your office."

He slowly meets her smile with one of his own. He knows this is the end of the conversation. They might not acknowledge it even happened for a long time. But working this case with her excites him just as much as her touch, so he's okay with it. "Let's nail the fucker."

She welcomes Elliot's sympathies after Chen's interrogation. It's a relief to know what happened to Simon… to be able to talk about it with someone who knew him.

As they talk, she notices for the first time how rested and relaxed he looks. He finally listened. He slept.

She knows they just had this intense talk just a couple hours ago, but she also knows they're not quite ready for more. The closeness right here in this corner… this is where they need to be. Open. Honest. Safe.

"You seem better," she says. Because he does, and she wants him to know that she sees him. She thinks about him just as much as he does her.

"Do I?" he says with a laugh. "Thanks. I… I'm actually confused as hell. About so many things."

It almost makes her laugh, like it's the Cliff Notes answer to why he kissed Angela.

She wants him to know that she loves him, too. Wants him to know that she's getting past her anger. That she's okay with him healing how he needs to heal, and she'll be here when he's ready for her.

"Well, you look better," she says. "So, whatever it is you're doing, keep doing it."

And until they're ready, she'll set every cell in his body on fire. She takes his hand, not with a squeeze, but an intimate touch and an unmistakable look of want. She pulls him ever so slightly… in the way she will when she leads him to her bedroom one day. The touch is purposeful, leaving him with no question as to whether or not she intended to leave him burning.

One day she'll embrace those flames completely.

Not today.

But soon.

After she kills Angela Wheatley.