A/N1: please see trigger warnings

-this is a background story for a story to follow.

It's slightly or completely OOC (who even knows anymore) and so will the story be to follow.

-It's a song fic so chapters will be named after the song title. I hope you find new music you haven't heard or old favorites, and I hope you enjoy!

Trigger warnings:

mentions of r*e

Language

Sexual themes

Song: Familiar by Agnes Obel

——-EO——-

Lyrics: We took a walk to the summit at night, you and I

To burn a hole in the old grip of the familiar true to life

And the dark was opening wide, do or die

Under a mask of vermillion ruling eyes

And our love is a ghost that the others can't see

It's a danger

Every shade of us you fade down to keep

Them in the dark on who we are

Oh what you do to me

Gonna be the death of me

It's a danger

Cause our love is a ghost that the others can't see

——-EO——-

There are few things in life that remain resolutely true: there is no pain without pleasure, there is no love without heartache, there is no hope without doubt, and perhaps the most worrisome of all… The two driving emotions of human life are fear and love.

———EO——-

Olivia should be home. She should be a glass or two down a wine bottle, and unwinding while watching crappy late night tv. Instead she finds herself here, roaming Times Square amongst the throngs of tourists snapping pictures, only serving to get in her way. She can't go home, it's too quiet, it's too lonely. Her mind was racing. Thoughts of icy blue eyes were ricocheting around like a bullet occupying any space left for other thoughts. She couldn't get him out of her mind, she never could… but today those eyes… they were lost. She couldn't see anything past them.

The eye contact was lingering, it was searing. She could read him like a book. Elliot shot Jenna, and he was instantly a wreck about it. She could see thoughts of his kids flickering across his face, thoughts of his family, thoughts of Kathy, thoughts of her, thoughts of them. And then it was gone. The mist evaporated, and the overbearing reality of what had happened hit in a bloody pool of o positive left on Olivia's hands.

He wouldn't talk to her after that, he wouldn't talk to anyone. Elliot had side stepped her every effort and then disappeared with one last glance to Olivia before the elevators closed, blue eyes resting on brown for far too long. And then he was gone.

The blinding lights of Times Square have done nothing to dim her inner turmoil, the crowds were thinning, the sky was darkening, and still all the registered were pools of icy blue.

——-EO——-

It was nearing ten by the time Olivia was fishing in her pockets for her apartment key. She was distracted, but that didn't stop the overwhelming feeling surrounding her. He was here. He was probably upstairs sitting outside her apartment door waiting for her. She hadn't missed any calls, and she had made a few to him over the past few hours, so there was no earthly reason to indicate that he was there. She hadn't seen him, his car was nowhere to be found, but none of that mattered. She could feel him. She could always feel him.

She doesn't hesitate, instead she feels her feet propelling her through the front door of her building quicker than the strain felt on her body should allow. She forgoes the elevator and takes the stairs two at a time until she reaches the fourth floor.

She's not the least bit shocked when she sees Elliot propped up against her door. His legs are stretched out in front of him, hands gently resting on his lap. His head is resting against his neck, and his eyes are cast upwards staring blankly into the ceiling above.

Olivia's heart is pounding with every step she takes. It's hard to see him so lost. Her initial thought is she wants to pull him into her arms and tell him everything is going to be ok. He did what he was trained to do. It was unfortunate but it was part of the job, and he'd get through this… they'd get through this. But she couldn't touch him like that, not when they were so very alone..

So instead she slows her pace as she nears him. She stops just short of his legs, but he doesn't move. "El," she's reaching for him without thought. His eyes snap to hers, and she freezes in place. He'd been crying, or drinking, maybe both. He looked away then, quickly glancing forward. He hadn't changed, and his five o'clock shadow was starting to peak below his chin. "How long have you been here?" She asks, dropping her hand. Because he should be home she realizes. As much as she wants him here, he shouldn't be.

He smiles up at her, still avoiding eye contact , but it's broken, not at all happy. He swipes his hands over his face and huffs out what appears to be a laugh, but all Olivia can hear is pain. "I uh," he can't tell her he's been here all night, and he's struggling for words. "Kathy took the kids to see her parents yesterday." Elliot is moving to his feet now. "The house was just too quiet." He's not looking at her. His eyes are cast down at his shoes, and his hands are shoved in his pockets.

Part of Olivia wants to kick him out, tell him to go home, call his wife, and get some sleep and he'll have a clearer head in the morning . But that's the guilt talking. It's the little nagging feeling in her chest she gets anytime they're alone together, not on the job. It's the voice in her head telling her she's not a second choice, she's not the other woman.

The bigger part of her is yelling loud enough to ebb the guilt. It's telling her she's none of those people, not even close. She's his colleague, his best friend, his partner, his whatever she had to be. Everything else can and will be put aside because she can't lose him. It's screaming at her, that just because she's in love with her married partner it doesn't mean she has to act on it. At least he was here, he was extending an olive branch and not blocking her out.

So she pushes past him, careful not to make contact, and opens the door. "Come on," she motions for him to follow her with a tilt of her head before entering her dimly lit apartment.

Elliot is a nervous ball of energy behind her, it stops her in her tracks. She can feel it rolling off of him in waves. It stirs deep in the pit of her stomach, yanking and pulling at her like an invisible tether of pain fueled resistance. He feels just as guilty as she does for being here. Still, he's not turning to leave. He's standing, un-moving behind her, quiet and still, blending into the dark shadows of her apartment. He's so silent any other person would be oblivious to his presence.

The door finally clicks closed, knocking Olivia out of her resolve, and back into motion. She's shrugging off her jacket and pulling in a much needed breath of air taking mental notes to put one foot in front of the other just so she can create some distancefrom him.

"Don't do this to yourself," Olivia breaks the heavy silence growing between them. "It was a clean shot, Jenna was out of control." She reasons, just as much for her as she does for him.

Elliot is still unmoving, hiding in the shadows hoping to mask the emotion he's sure is displayed all over his face. He wants to believe her. A part of him actually does, but the guilt eating away at him is unbearably loud, and the relief he feels is only that of a brief flicker. So much happened today, so much beyond Jenna.

She's still facing away from him, and Elliot is grateful for that. It all clicked into place today, after all was said and done. A deep, resounding fear had settled over him when Jenna fired that weapon in his general direction. He wasn't afraid of losing his life, the thought hadn't even crossed his mind until the silence fell heavy on him. It was Olivia he was concerned for. He thought she was gone, and the world fell from beneath him.

Jenna would weigh heavy on his mind for the rest of his life. He wasn't dumb enough to think otherwise. He'll rot in hell one day for that sin. That should be the guilt that's eating away at him tonight. That should be the guilt keeping him from sleeping in an empty quiet house. That should be the guilt that had sent him straight to confession tonight. But it wasn't. He never even mentioned Jenna. Maybe that guilt was still too fresh, or maybe it was just outweighed by the years of baggage he'd been lugging around with him.

His never ending thoughts of his partner had morphed into so much more today when he thought he lost her. He'd been in love with her for years, more years than he likes to admit to himself. The fear of losing her had been there before, but not like this. He was losing his grip, he was losing his fight with himself. Her brown eyes almost knocked the wind out of him today. They were unwavering, they kept him grounded and breathing. They were comfort and solace, wrapped in fear. He had just shot a victim he had become so close to, and he could do nothing more than drown in regret and liquid pools of amber.

He laid his soul bare to the priest in that confession box tonight. He admitted everything out loud to himself for the first time, everything he had been holding onto for nearly twelve years. It had felt cathartic in the moment, like a weight had been lifted. He was ordered his penance of fifteen Hail Mary's and five "our fathers" to recite on his rosary, and he left with few other words from the anonymous priest.

He never finished his prayers, he didn't even make it halfway, he never made it home either. She was still too heavy on his mind. He left the church, came straight here and knocked until his knuckles were red. He tried to leave when he realized she wasn't home, but his body refused to move. It slumped down her door in a tired heap instead, the weight of his guilt becoming too much to bear once again.

——-EO——-

Olivia forces herself to turn to Elliot. The silence in the room is deafening, and it's honestly starting to scare her. He's still hiding in the shadows, he hasn't moved an inch from where he was standing before, and he's deathly silent. "El, please," he's too close to the door, like he's prepared to run at any second.

He sighs then, as he steps forward bathing himself in the soft light illuminating from the lamp Olivia had just clicked on. Jesus, he wants to touch her, and tell her everything he confessed to that priest tonight. He wants to lay it all out on the line, and press her against the nearest wall and cover her lips with his. He wants to tell her they can figure everything else out later, together, and ruin his marriage and partnership in one foul swoop, consequences be damned. He wants more from Olivia than he deserves.

"I don't know what I'm doing here Liv," it's his second open confession of the night, only it's not entirely true.

Olivia presses her fingers to her forehead and her body deflates. The guilt is back tenfold, and a headache is threatening to overtake her senses any moment. "Just," she's sighing and shaking her head trying to get a hold of herself. "Sit, I'll get you something to drink." She's moving to the kitchen then, thankful for something to do.

She opens her fridge reaches for a bottle of water, alcohol probably isn't the best choice for the evening, and she has nothing else to offer but beer or wine from her otherwise empty refrigerator.

She can feel him behind her. He's looking at her, she can feel his eyes appraising her, and it makes her want to shiver. She hadn't even heard him move, but she's not surprised when she turns to meet him and they're face to face.

"I thought I lost you today," Elliots third confession of the night comes tumbling out, his eyes are locked on hers, and the fear radiating back from his admission is unmistakable.

Olivia moves to speak, but he's quick to cut her off, fearful he might stop talking all together. "I thought Jenna had shot you, and I had lost every…" he stops himself , clenching his jaw. Words seemed to be spilling out of him without warning, but he was able to keep from crossing a line from which he could never return. "I thought I lost you Liv," he's fighting tears at the frustration of it all.

"I thought I lost you too," her resolve had crumbled, and her barriers had all but deteriorated in an instant. So she didn't fight it when she reached out for him this time. She's squeezing at his arm, and it's anything but intimate, yet it does little to stifle the spark that seems to ignite between them anytime they touch.

He's on her then, invading what little space was left between them in one quick motion. Olivia drops the water bottle and grunts as her back comes into contact with her fridge door, and the air is expelled from her when the hard plains of his chest come crashing into hers. His hands rest on each side of her head, as he blocks her in, it's almost animalistic. But none of that matters, not when his lips are so close to hers, if she just inched forward she could taste him, and it's the only thought she has left in her.

He bangs the freezer door by her head, making her jump into his body, and he has to fight off the groan he feels working it's way from his chest as her breasts gently graze his chest from the action. He's in over his head. He's angry at himself for being here, he's angry that she touched him, he's angry that he can't seem to move his body away from hers now that he's so close. "Tell me to go home Olivia," he's straining to speak through his teeth. His heart is pumping so loud in his chest he's almost certain she can feel it beating against her.

She should tell him to go home. She should push him off of her and beat the shit out of him for trapping her here like this. But she can't seem to find the words. She doesn't want him to go home. She wants him here, and she wants him closer. Her eyes are wild as they dart back and forth over his. She needs space, that's all, he doesn't have to go, he just needs to move. She's pushing at him then, her hand making contact with his chest as she tries to separate him from her.

Elliot grabs at her hand pinning it between their chests and he only moves to push himself further into her. "Tell me you don't want me here," he's pleading with her. His head had fallen forward, hair brushing gently against Olivia's cheek.

Her breathing is ragged against him . Olivia can hear him saying words, but they're hazy with lack of proximity between them. Her body feels like it's been jolted by a bolt of lightning and she's struggling to keep still against his hold. "Elliot," his name is dripping in sex as it leaves her mouth. "Go home, I don't want you here." It's on the tip of her tongue, but it refuses to be spoken out loud, so it's left unsaid.

He's groaning openly now, no longer able or willing to stifle it, he couldn't turn away now even if he wanted to. Not when she is saying his name like that. She wants him just as much as he wants her, and the realization in this moment is overwhelming, and welcome. It shoots a pang of want straight to his groin causing an uncomfortable bulge to form in his pants. He wants to take her right now, hard, against her fridge. He wants to strip her of her clothes and feel flesh on flesh. He wants to cross every line they'd ever drawn once and for all, and never turn back.

So he inches forward his lips barely a whisper over Olivia's. "Liv," he wants her to push him off of her, it's what he'd expect normally, but she was practically succumbing to his every advance. It's exhilarating, it's infuriating, it's scaring him. He wants her to punch him, and kick him out, and tell him to never come near her like that again.

"El," her lips are moving against his. She's pressed to the fridge so tightly there's no way to do so much as talk without touching him. It's a struggle, she's shaking, she's going to ruin everything. He's a mess in front of her and all she wants to do is get rid of the scraps of material between them and take him to her bed. She'd never forgive herself, Elliot would never forgive her. So she fights herself, she hurls him back because in an instant everything was about to change. "Get off of me." Her eyes are fire, and lust, and he's ruining everything.

"Maybe you need to take a walk." She's leaning over to pick up the forgotten water bottle laying between them, because her kitchen is small and he's still too close. She's out of the room before he can protest. She

needs space, he needs to cool off and so does she.

He's stunned by the turn of events, it was like she had read his every thought. All he can do is stand there as Olivia sidesteps him. She's pissed, good he thinks because he needs her pissed. He's not leaving though. He can't, not until whatever needs to happen between them happens, not until they talk, or fight, or fuck. Despite himself he'd settle for any option, and he thought himself a selfish prick for it.

——-EO——-

Olivia is pacing in back and forth in her living room when Elliot finally enters. "What was that?" She demands, as if she wasn't just as responsible for what had happened in her kitchen. She was a bitch for it, but that was something she could live with.

"What do you think it was Liv," her retorts, because fuck it. He's laying it all out on the line. He should apologize, but he'd be damned if he takes the brunt of the blame. She wanted this just as badly as he did.

"Whatever it was that can't happen again," she stops walking, and it's quiet when she says it. She's exhausted, she's tired of fighting whatever this is between them , and it's all evident in seven little words. "We're partners El, not to mention you're married with a family." She's on the verge of tears as she speaks. "I would never do that to them, or to you. So maybe," she pauses, biting at her bottom lip, willing the tears not to spill over. "Maybe you should go home, and we can talk on the phone ok?"

"No," It's gruff and firm when he says it. She's right he should go home, and they could talk, but he was still too far gone for that.

"Jesus Elliot, do whatever the hell you want to do, you can sleep on the couch for all I care, but it's late and I'm tired." She's moving towards her room, suddenly craving an ice cold shower.

He's fast, he's blocking her exit because he knows once she closes and locks her bedroom door whatever fire is still lingering between them would extinguish. "Don't tell me you didn't want that back there, Olivia." He's angry and somewhat desperate to know, out loud, that he wasn't alone in this.

She feigned a laugh and crossed her arms over her chest, "go home." She couldn't tell him the truth. Not now, not when they were just so close to changing absolutely everything.

"For Christ's sake Olivia I'm not asking you to kill somebody here!" He's yelling, he can't do it anymore, he decides. This, on top of everything is just too much. He can't change the outcome of Jenna, he can't take back the past, but he can have this. It's not fair, but fuck fair, nothing was fair. Nothing.

"Five minutes ago you were telling me to kick you out. So go home, Elliot." She's tired, there's no fight, only desperation, she's a wall of ice to block his fire.

His hands are gripping at her doorframe, arms sturdy on either side, his stance firm. "I'm not leaving until you answer my question. Just don't lie to me, whatever you do don't lie to me." He's locking his eyes to hers, because he means it and won't accept anything less.

She's deflating before him, her resolve is thin, and the fight is but a bubble. She just wants to hit the reset button on today, and start over. "I can't," Olivia's voice cracks, and it's all she can say or do, because anything else will be too much.

"Why not?" I know why, but I want you to say it.

"Elliot," you know why.

"Tell me," please.

"I can't!" Fuck you Elliot.

"You can," he's stepping towards her again.

"Please, go home." She took a step back.

"Not until you answer my question," his steps are coming faster, he's like an animal after his prey, unrelenting.

"I can't tell you, I can't lie to you, I just can't, what else do you want from me? " She's backing up quickly, managing to stay just out of his reach.

"I want the truth Olivia," His chest is heaving and his eyes are wild like fire.

"Please, El, just go home." Fuck, she's pinned. He'd backed her into a corner, again. She's pushing at him instantly, unwilling to let him cage her in.

He traps her wrists and presses against her, uncaring that his hard on is going to come into direct contact with her thigh. "Just answer my question, Liv," He's going to get an answer, whatever it takes.

She groans when she feels him hard against her. She is only human after all, but she's stronger than she thought and she doesn't react physically. Instead she relaxes in his hold because the fight only seems to push him further into her. "Why are you trying to ruin everything?" She drops her head against the wall and stares into the ceiling because she's not sure he's going to let her go, and she can't bear to look in his eyes any longer.

"Because I have nothing left to lose," it's quiet, it's unexpected, he's not sure Olivia heard him, but he said it. His fourth confession of the night, out in a single painful breath. He drops his head, and his heart constricts achingly in his chest.

Her head drops instantly. She can feel the fine hairs of his head tickling at her chest and neck, and it's all she can do from whimpering. His hands have her wrists in a vice grip, and it's making her dizzy with want. She's searching for his eyes, but he keeps his gaze downcast. She was imagining things, everything was just too intense right now, he wouldn't say that, he couldn't.

There's a lump forming in Olivia's throat, and her heart is sinking quickly. Today has been a roller coaster from the start, and Elliot was determined to keep throwing her for loops. She can't help the tears that fall now, they're spilling over in a steady stream, leaving streaks in their wake. "I wanted it okay, is that what you wanted to hear, are you happy now?" Her voice is thick with emotion and she's beyond fighting it.

Elliots heart tugs in his chest, his breathing intensifies and he's about to break. She's in tears, tears he caused, forcing her to answer a question he never should have been allowed to ask her in the first place. Tears he caused, because he knows his admission broke her. He truly felt he had nothing left to lose, because he was so lost in everything he had been running from for so long he might never find his way back.

"Was that so hard?" There's a sad smile tugging at his lips as he speaks, before he forces himself to look at Olivia's tear streaked face because if nothing else at least he'll take responsibility for this in his own way.

Olivia isn't smiling with him, she's barely able to keep herself on her own two feet. She's drowning in the blue eyes, darkened with desire, widened in fear, staring straight into her soul. She's flailing to keep her head above water, and failing miserably.

The tears refuse to stop, and she wants to look away, but her eyes won't allow it. "Please, just tell me you didn't mean it," she's begging him to say he has no idea what she's talking about. She's silently praying that he'll deny it all together. Then the tears could stop, then she could breathe again. Lie to me Elliot.

"Do you remember the first case we worked?" He can't lie to her, but maybe he can make her understand.

"Are you kidding me Elliot?" She's pushing against him now, struggling to get out of his hold, the sadness subsiding for her anger. "Just answer my question."

He fights against her, bringing her hands up to the wall, pinning one on each side of her head. He slides a leg between her, his right thigh connecting directly to her sex. He's intent on keeping her as close as possible, anything to keep him from turning back now, because he's already come too far, because there's no longer the option to turn back. Olivia heard him, and if he demanded the truth from her the least he could do was try to give it in return.

"Please," Elliots voice is a direct contrast to his actions, it's timid and pleading. It's enough to cause Olivia to relax slightly in his hold and stop fighting against him so he continues, "do you remember the first case we worked together?"

Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion at Elliots ever changing mood swings. The tears have since stopped, and she can see him clearly. His body is strong against her, but his eyes are soft and dare she say frightened. Today had been too much, and maybe he just needed some reassurance, maybe this could still be saved. That's what pushed her to speak, hope. "Of course I remember the first case we worked together, why are you asking me this and not answering my question?" Lie to me Elliot.

"You puked our first day out," he's laughing at the memory, despite the mood between them. "I was such an ass to you," he's happy to point that out and continue avoiding the question for now. "I think I told you there's no crying in baseball, and took off,"

Olivia is wiggling beneath him, despite the anger, and sadness, and whatever else the fuck is going on, she can't help the way her body is reacting to his. It's not lost on her that Elliot is pressed so tightly against her she can feel him getting harder against her with each stolen moment. She's going to die tonight, she knows he must be trying to kill her.

He grunts at her motions and steps further into her. Olivia is thrust upward with his action, and she has no choice but to rest her aching core directly on his firm thigh. she groans when she comes into contact with him, her hands bunch painfully into fists above her, and now she's certain he's trying to kill her. "What does that have to do with anything?" She's speaking in a rush because this is moving far beyond her control, and she at least has some fight left in her at the moment.

"I went to a parent teacher conference for Maureen that day, and you called in the middle of it in a panic," he's talking about his family, while his rock hard dick is pressed directly against his partners thigh and the guilt is twisting and turning inside of him in a stormy whirlwind, but he pushes on anyway knowing there's no turning back, not now, whatever happens happens. "I realized from then on I'd always have a difficult choice to make."

Olivia doesn't know what to do with that. Elliot is speaking in riddles, and it's only helping to piss her off. "Why are you telling me all of this?" She's struggling against him, but she stops almost immediately as she starts because he's still hard against her, and liquid heat is pooling between her legs. She's quickly losing herself to desire, and that was not a luxury she could afford with her married partner.

"I need you to understand, please understand Liv," Elliot is covering her mouth with his then. There are no more words left within him, there is only raw emotion.

How can he tell her that if she'd just let him, he'd choose her. He'd figure out a way to make it work with her and his kids. You are everything

How can he tell her that Kathy had long suspected he felt more for her than he should, and called him out on it even through his denial.

How come can't he just fucking say it? "I love you Olivia."

She's kissing him back, it's hard and frenzied, it's full of desperation and want. If she's going to hell for this then at least they'll go together. If she's not going to get an answer, at least she'll get this. She's rocking against him now, she's lost the battle to desire, to herself, to lust, to love.

Olivia is goddamned whimpering in his mouth, it's what completely pushes him over. He's hungrily biting at her bottom lip until he tastes the slight tang of blood on his tongue. He wants more, he needs more. He drops her hands in a quick motion, pulling away from her lip with a pop, and grabs for her hips adjusting her center directly against his throbbing cock.

"El," she's gripping his neck, moaning his name out, lost in the burning flames of desire. She wants to fight him off, but instead she's rocking against him, fighting to bring him closer.

He's not himself he thinks, he's become someone else, because the hands ripping open Olivia's shirt aren't his.

The hands sliding unapologetic up her rib cage couldn't belong to him.

The fingers guiding her shirt down her back had to belong to a stranger.

Except he can still hear her. Her breathing is labored, and coming in soft rapid succession, it's a song, a hymn, a masterpiece belonging to him and no one else. it's music to his ears, so this must be him.

Except he can see her. Her chest is rising and falling energetically under his gaze, the black lace of her bra is dancing in the dim light to a melody of breaths created between them. It's euphoria for his eyes, for his soul, for his heart… so this must be him.

Except he can still smell her. The heady scent of her vanilla shampoo, mixed with something that was purely Olivia had implanted itself in his brain years ago, he'd know that smell anywhere. It was comfort, pain, condondrms so frustrating he couldn't even fathom words. It was his kryptonite, So this must be him

Except he can feel her. Her breasts are weighted and warm in his hands, she's soft yet firm and he's falling. In this stolen moment, it's just them. Him, and her. Olivia and Elliot obliterating every boundary ever set, every line ever drawn, every limit pushed to the brink. He can feel the rapid beating of her heart just beneath his fingertips… it's grounding, it's perplexing, it's everything…So this must be him

Except, he can still taste her. A taste he'd swear on a thousand suns he's had before. Except he hadn't, this was new. She was…intoxicating, and delicious. She was the forbidden fruit, and Eve deliciously wrapped in black lace , and he was Adam lost in the garden of eden… it was so wrong, it was so right… the guilt, the pleasure, the absolute lack of decorum was not lost to him, even though he'd never in a million years forget the taste of her...so this must be him

Olivia is trembling beneath him. She's no longer fighting or frenzied, and Elliot is knocked from the spell cast upon them. Concern is pulling at his chest, and the guilt is fast and rageful. She's hurt, he's gone too far… he's...

He's being kissed by Olivia Benson.

Her hands are wrapped tightly in his white shirt, which is slightly damp from the heat created between them. Her tongue is swiping at his lip, a gentle flicker and a stark contrast to what felt like moments and lifetimes ago wrapped into one. She lets go of his shirt, and her hands begin a timid exploration over the rigid plains of his chest.

She's nipping at his bottom lip, as her hands become bolder in their actions. She's half naked in her living room, and Elliot is still too clothed. He's an advantage, he's always been at an advantage, she realizes, in one earth shattering moment. She's too open, she's too vulnerable, and that couldn't stand.

His muscles flex under her touch, and his mouth opens welcomely to hers. They part, and his shirt is over his head in a quick motion, his arms only too willing to help. This is happening. Twelve years of cat and mouse, cop and robber, hook and bait, unraveling against an unremarkable white wall of plaster.

"Tell me you didn't mean it," she's trying in vain to pull away from him, because she needs to know. Sin or no sin, hell or no hell, that this, that they weren't lost. That she was his to lose, that she was still standing here practically naked in so many ways willing to fight for him, willing to fight for them. That everything else would and could be figured out in time. Lie to me Elliot

"Liv," her fight only causes him to press impossibly closer into her, and his voice thick with tears, and something more that she can't discern when he speaks. Fear, guilt, love… she wasn't sure, but she could feel the change. The earthquake from within. Her name was mumbled like a curse and a prayer fighting each other for dominance.

He's yanking at the button on her pants with his left hand, his other hand was intent on exploring her chest, peaking and tweaking at her nipples, the traitorous bitches hardening with each swipe of his thumb.

She can hear her zipper being slipped down, but his hand is a ghost, and the only sounds between them are intermingled breaths strangling out the silence.

She's beside herself, she's not herself.

Olivia Benson wouldn't willingly succumb to her married partners every whim. Only she was loath to fight him off, and goddammit she tried. For years she's tried, and it's only landed them up here, pressed so tightly together, damning each other's names to the gods above, which have cursed them to this fate.

Olivia Benson wouldn't willingly and unapologetically be pushing Elliots hands away from her, just so she could yank at the gold belt buckle pressed between them, willing him free from restraint. The sound of leather against material makes her shiver.

Olivia Benson wouldn't be whimpering beneath her Best friends every touch. His lips are exploring the plains of her neck and collar bone, marking his territory in their wake. Little reminders of him left behind for only her to see, for only them to see. She can feel him, his teeth are nipping at her skin, his tongue coming soon after, soothing the burn, soothing the ache, soothing the rage.

"Please," it's out of her lips without warning. She's begging for it all, for all of him, for an answer, for this agony to end. Lie to me Elliot.

He's reaching for her bra, he needs this now. He needs her now, he needs to memorize every inch. He needs to feel all of her, taste all of her, see all of her, and there's no more questions, no more fight or guilt, only two souls dancing on the fine line of fear and love.

But fate has other plans, cursed fate, and vengeful gods crumble the beautifully chaotic haze surrounding them. The shrill sound of Elliots cell phone breaks through the barriers with ferocity and in an instant she's bare, cold, and instantly lonely.

It's Kathy's ringtone. She'd know it anywhere. And he's pulled away from her, with three long steps backwards. He's not looking at her; he's hastily dragging his eyes across her carpeted floor looking for his discarded shirt.

"El," Don't leave like this. Talk to me.

"I'm… I have to to go." I'm sorry.

"Elliot!" Fuck you, you've ruined everything.

He's slipping his shirt over his head, and walking hurriedly towards the door without a glance back. "Hi baby, I'm just leaving work, it's been a long night." It's all she hears before the heavy click of the door closes behind him. It's overbearingly lonely then, the only sign of his presence were the scattered buttons and ripped shirt littering her living room floor .

——-EO——-

Work isn't the same, Elliots presence is gravely missed, and it's not just Olivia who feels it.

She's trying not to focus on that, not now, not when there's another case in her lap, this time with a high profile diplomat. It's a failing effort, because somewhere in the middle she realizes Elliot would love to tear this asshole apart, he'd take pleasure in it. Only he wasn't here, and she didn't know when he was coming back.

The days are muddled together, phone calls were made, texts sent, but Elliot was silent. His phone rang, but he never answered.

It was probably for the best, she wasn't sure what she was going to say, or what he would say. Maybe the silence was better than the words, maybe too much was said already… but it didn't settle the ache in her chest, or the pang of agony pulling at her gut.

She's sitting at a bar now, waiting to meet up with her squad, but thoughts are swirling, thoughts of Elliot, thoughts of everything that had happened between them in one beautiful,messy night.

she can't help but call him again," I don't want to stalk you, but if you need to talk I'm here." Her fifth call in as many days.

"Hey Liv," Fin strolls up to her as she hangs up the phone.

"Have you talked to Elliot?" Hello Fin.

Fin is shaking his head, "no, I haven't."

Olivia sighs, her heart constricting achingly in her chest. "I have nothing left to lose." Elliots words unwillingly flood her mind. She's gonna hurl, all over the floor, luckily the rest of her squad walks in distracting her from her thoughts.

"We've got this in the bag." Alex is smiling when she strolls in the bar. Olivia can't help but smile, happy to have her friend back in her life. Hope.

"Good, I want to see this asshole go down." Olivia takes a drag of her beer, before setting it back down on the table.

Fin is regarding Olivia, he's hunched over the table, inquisitive eyes scanning over her face. "He's probably scared to talk to you Liv, he doesn't want you to talk him out of it."

Olivia's eyes snap up to his, her conversation with him momentarily forgotten. "Talk him out of what," she's practically laughing. "He's not gonna quit." He can't quit.

"He shot a teenage girl Liv, he probably won't ever want to put his gun on again." He can only speak from how he feels, but Fin means it when he says it. Better the truth than the bull shit, he thinks.

She's taking another drag of her beer then, Fin doesn't know what he's talking about. She'll call Elliot later and they'll sort everything out. He'll answer, He has to answer.

——-EO——-

More days pass in a blur, Miriam, finding her footing with Rollins, Elliot, Elliot, Elliot.

She can't help but look at his empty desk. It's so very, very empty, and the feelings of dread and loneliness only bubble from deep within. Everything from the past, everything from that night, each stolen moment and dangerous dance was bouncing around her mind like a whirlwind. Nothing feels the same.

"Liv," Cragen's voice knocks her out of her reserve. There's a shaky timber to it, and it makes her gut twist. She can feel Munch and Fins' curious eyes on her, but she doesn't look back, she just moves forward, what else can she do?

"Miriam wasn't lying about being raped, captain." She's resolute in her statement, and she's praying to god that's why he brought her in here. Please be the case.

"Will you shut the door please?" He turns to look at her, his eyes sullen, and she can already feel the tears pricking at the back of her eyes.

Cragen sighs, because he doesn't want to tell her, and he doesn't want what he's about to say to be any more true than she does. " Elliot put his papers in,"

"He's earned it." Words, form words, not tears, she's going to crumble, and that can't happen not here not now.

"And then some," Cragen utters his agreement. "Do you want to talk?" He knows it's a fruitless question, but he would try to help Olivia until his dying breath. She's silent, she's struggling with tears, he can see them in her eyes and hear them in shaky breaths. "Do you want to take a day?"

Olivia is shaking her head at the mere mention. This is what she did, this is who she was, this would keep her grounded, distracted, sane… "I'm fine." She forces a smile, a smile to hide the pain.

"Liv, i'm sorry." Cragen means it. He's sorry for himself, just as much as he is for her. He loved Elliot like a son, and it was not lost upon him how close his detectives had become.

There are no words, if she speaks now she'll cry, and she still has a full day of work ahead of her. Crime doesn't take a break for the broken hearted, so she just nods, and fights off her stubborn tear ducts.

The phone is ringing when she walks out . It's fuzzy, but she hears it. She's still here, she's at work, she's grounded, she's alive, just bruised, not broken. "You ok?" Fin's voice breaks the haze. She wants to tell him no, she wants to lay it all out. Her night with Elliot, her broken heart, but the words won't come.

"Fin, take Rollins." Munch is speaking anyway, and she's grateful.

"No, I'll go," she decides in an instant, because she can't look at the empty desk staring back at her any longer. "Give me five, and we'll roll." She doesn't give Fin an opportunity to answer. She's already walking, fighting a run to get some privacy.

Elliot is gone. He hadn't returned a single phone call. It's weighing on her like a ton of bricks.

He didn't even say goodbye.

After everything, after every line crossed, every sin committed, every touch stolen, he was gone, and a million and one questions were still left unanswered.

She's found solace in an empty room, and the sobs are coming in waves now, tears spilling unapologetically down her face, her body shaking with their ferocity. Everything was for nothing, and she had lost everything. The familiar gone, stolen away by icy blue eyes, and a heart of stone existing in one Elliot Stabler.

——-EO——-

A/N2: there was no beta, all mistakes are mine, and my grammar is shit… but if you made it this far I hope you liked it and follow for the next update which will be posted in a separate story as full chapters. Thanks for sticking around!