Notes: Ames, love, thank you for throwing in twenty questions suggestions and adding a bit here and there, shaking things loose when I got stuck, for brainstorming for the right words, laughing with me, listening to me getting frustrated. You're better than a strong drink, woman! Thank you, thank you, thank you.

For the past few minutes Olivia's been on her back, staring up at the ceiling of the darkened elevator. The cool tiles helped with getting herself together. With her feet against the wall, hands flat on her stomach, it was easier for Olivia to focus on her breathing while anxiety had a firm hold on her. It took a couple of minutes to ground herself with a soothing mantra she repeated in her head, over and over.

They're depending on her lit up phone display instead of the flashlight now, hoping the battery will last longer. Elliot is still in the spot he took next to her earlier. She can feel his eyes on her, can feel how worry and curiosity alike are radiating off of him. She knows he has questions, very much like she did when she caught him in the lobby of his building, almost jumping out of his skin when she approached him. She'd recognized the signs of PTSD instantly: jumpiness, wide hazy eyes, shortness of breath, confusion. Hell, she wouldn't have needed a display of all the obvious symptoms, she would have detected the subtle ones as well.

Olivia remembers Elliot's denial when she first called him out on it, the way he laughed, sounding like an insane person. She also remembers how much she hoped he'd confide in her, if only for his own well-being. That he'd talk about what was going on, how he felt, about the trauma of losing Kathy, of how he was coping-or not coping, obviously.

She knows how it feels when roles are reversed, and sooner or later she'll have to tell him about Lewis, so she might as well take that leap of faith. She has to start somewhere, she decides. And her panic attack is quite the elephant in the room.

"A number of years ago, I was locked in a car trunk for most of a day." Olivia's voice is deep, and surprisingly steady considering her nervousness. "It got so hot and stuffy in there. And I'm good with these things, I know how to cope, just… the light going out and being boxed in here, and all the heat-," she breathes, cocking her head so she can get a crooked glimpse at him. "Bit much."

The shift in the elevator is palpable. It's not so much awkward as it is heavy, raising questions she can't yet answer fully.

"A lot happened in ten years," she rushes ahead of him. "And I know you need to hear some of it, but this isn't the right place. I just...I need time to prepare myself for that conversation. And it wouldn't be fair to spring it on you like this, either."

"I don't think I like where this is going."

"Yeah, there's… it's a lot," she sighs, setting her feet down, deciding to change the subject. It's not her intention to unsettle him, but he deserves fair warning that something big, something profound is going to come. "How's Eli?"

It's hard to tell if he was more blindsided by her trunk revelation or the hard pivot to his youngest.

"You can't just switch from something so serious to Eli." She can see his features change in the dim lighting, as he regards her with concern.

"There's nothing more I can say about it, Elliot," she says sincerely, pushing herself up, groaning. She scoots towards the wall, trying to get comfortable, but after two hours and then some, her ass and lower back hurt in every position. It's going to take a thorough massage to work out these kinks she literally feels hardening by the minute. "God, I'm too old for this shit. My back's killing me."

"You should put some heat on it later." He waits a few beats, until she's adjusted and still in her spot. "Liv?"

"Yeah?"

He hesitates, briefly. Elliot's eyes are on her, but she can't read him from this far away, in so little light. "Thanks for telling me."

"Well, you're dealing with some of the fallout in here, so I guess you deserve to know why." She doesn't want him to feel like there's a world of distance between them, least of all while they're cooped up in such a small space. It would only make her feel more lost. More scared too, possibly.

"That the reason you picked up on the PTSD right away? Whatever happened to you?"

Who would've thought he'd throw that around so casually? Not her, that's for certain, because at once Olivia feels her heart beating in her throat. This one she didn't see coming, but then that seems to describe their entire relationship since he's come back. It's curveball after curveball. If it wasn't so damn disconcerting, it might be amusing.

"I'm quite familiar with it, so I recognize the signs," she admits, her eyes slipping closed for a moment. She breathes out a chuckle. "What is this, twenty questions?"

"That's actually recommended in a situation like this. Playing games like twenty questions to pass the time." She can tell the ease in his voice is forced, that underneath it he's unsettled, his mind spinning with the possibilities surrounding her disclosure, and whatever else happened to her in his absence. It's not what she meant to do, but this truth doesn't come without pain and discomfort. She rolls with the pretend easiness, after all, it's all they have got in here.

"Twenty questions, huh?" They might as well, it's not like they have anything else to do. There might be questions that prompt a good conversation. "Sounds good."

"Seriously?" There's a hint of movement in his eyebrows.

"You got a better idea?

Elliot harrumphs and does something with his mouth that looks oddly grotesque in the dimness of the elevator. "Nah, not really. Twenty questions then."

"You do know you gotta be honest, right?"

"Do we each get to pass on one question?"

"Sure, why not. Can I start?" She's had the first question from the moment he uttered the words 'twenty questions.'

"Go ahead. Don't be a perv."

Snorting, Olivia sits up straighter, licking her lips. "When did you last tell a lie, and what was it?"

He sucks in a breath, thinks for a moment and shakes his head lightly. "Wait, an actual lie, or… does a cop-out count as a lie?"

"Whatever your definition of the last moment you weren't being truthful was."

"I don't know how to answer that," he mutters.

"You have to. Unless you wanna pass already," she points out with a wave of her hand. "Not sure that's too smart, though."

"To Maureen. About the way I feel for someone close to me."

"That's it? That's not very specific, Elliot," Olivia points out. She is aiming for the juicy stuff and this isn't it.

"I can't say more than that, Liv." He sounds awfully uncomfortable, and she senses this must have to do with a woman. The thought alone doesn't sit well with her. Inwardly she bristles with the possibility of him dipping his feet into the sea of dating. "I'd put you on the spot."

Now, this is even more confusing. "Put me on the spot? How so?"

"Liv," he winces. "Let's just… it's my turn. Motherhood in three words."

"Joyous, exhausting," she starts and taps her fingers against her thigh. "Fulfilling."

"I had a feeling you'd say that. Fulfilling." She thinks he's smiling as she thinks of what to ask next. "If you could have one superpower, what would it be? And why?"

"That's easy. I'd want to read people's minds. I think that would be interesting, to know what they really think. Would've made my life a hell of a lot easier, sometimes," he chuckles.

"That's a good one," Olivia agrees. "I hate that I can't really see you. It's like I'm talking to a shadow."

"Come over here, then. At least we'll be a little closer, that should help."

Vaguely, Olivia contemplates this, then shifts and moves backwards to the opposite wall. "Your turn," she prompts.

"Favorite memory of Noah as a baby," Elliot states, a smile claiming his lips. It's contagious, making her face break out at the memory, too.

"That's a tough one. There are so many good memories, but I think… I think probably the day I first took him home. In the evening I sat down with him, rocking him, and I just knew that from that day on it was going to be us. I'll never forget how I said to him that I wasn't going to give him away, and that he found his forever home with me. That I'm his mom." Her voice is thick with emotion, her nose twitching with the threat of tears at the memory. "That day changed my life for the better." In her eyes tears are glistening, yet she smiles brightly at Elliot who seems to revel in the information. "Sometimes for the worse. Until Noah was three he had a talent of throwing up on me. It was like an exclusive deal. When he had the stomach flu I was tempted to just walk around naked, because I had to change my clothes and shower twenty times a day," she laughs.

"Sick kids," Elliot pipes up, shaking his head. "I remember Maureen was the worst, it being the first time for the both of us. And we were basically just kids ourselves."

"She turned out great, Elliot," Olivia says softly. "All of them."

He looks thoughtful but nods. "Yeah they did. I'm not sure how but they did," he laughs softly. "All of the credit goes to Kathy, though. I was never-,"

Olivia knows where this is going, and stops him right there. He hasn't been around as much as he would have wanted, or as much as Kathy would have needed him. Definitely not as much as his children needed him, but it comes with the job.

"You provided for your family, Elliot. It comes with sacrifices," Olivia says softly, reaching out, putting her hand on his. She knows a thing or two about sacrifices, times when the job had to come first. "I know what it's like, but you did what you had to do. Kathy may have been the one who was more present at home, who took the brunt of raising them, but that doesn't mean that what you did wasn't worth just as much. You made sure they could grow up in a house, with a backyard, so that they could go to college."

"How do you do it?"

"I don't know. I always took it day by day, and things got a little more predictable when I made Captain, but some days it's still rough. The hours are still brutal, and it's not fair to Noah, but we have a good life. The apartment isn't too shabby, he's in a good school. Is it worth it? I don't know. I'm just… trying my best. And so did you. I know you did."

Talking about their crappy work-life balance is depressing, and she'd rather find out things she doesn't know about Elliot, so she presses on. "Favorite dish you got to know in Italy?"

"Cacio e Pepe. I knew it before but there's not a single restaurant here I've been to that could pull it off. I mean, I can make a better Cacio e Pepe, easily."

"You can make Cacio e Pepe? Superior to New York City Italian restaurants?" She laughs at this.

"Cacio e Pepe, Bucatini all'Amatriciana, Pasta alla Gricia. I'm good with the pasta dishes, Benson." His Italian accent is thick, though not authentic seeing that he learned the language late in life.

"I don't believe you." There's no way he's learned to cook several dishes when she herself still depends on take out most of the time. Of course she cooks sometimes, but she's by far not as confident as Elliot sounds.

"I also make a Carbonara that's gonna make your head spin," he boasts.

"You can cook?" An eyebrow jumps up as she's waiting for him to admit he's just playing, but instead he smirks cockily.

"I can cook. I'll prove it, if you'd like to come over sometime. Bottle of wine, you and me, you pick the dish." His face relaxes into an easy, genuine smile, and momentarily she wonders if the invitation sounds almost like a date. Him cooking for her at his place. Just the two of them, possibly. Most likely it's totally innocent, she decides. It's just two people having food together like they did countless times in the past.

"Yeah, why not. If you say you can cook, I'd like to see it." The nonchalance in her voice is betrayed by a slight tremor.

"Do you cook?"

"I think cooking stretches what I do. I mean, I make fish sticks and mashed potatoes. A couple of easy spaghetti dishes. I drizzle vegetables with olive oil and season them, add some fish or chicken, but I don't really cook."

"To be honest, I don't do it much. With the job… and Eli's..." There's heaviness in the words, that she understands too well. He works long hours and at the moment it's just him, anyway. Eli is still with Maureen, from what she's heard much to Elliot's chagrin. He wants Eli home, but then he never wanted him to move in with his eldest daughter to begin with. They'd moved his son out the night of the intervention, and although radical, she firmly believes it was necessary. Elliot, at the time, was in no condition to take care of his child, not with the PTSD that had such a firm hold on him, and Elliot refusing help. Now, Eli seems to have settled in with Maureen and her husband, not inclined to move back into the small apartment with his father.

"I get it. I mean, we're heavily dependent on take-out ourselves, so I'm not judging," she assures around a chuckle. "A home cooked meal is quite appealing at this point." Her gaze briefly finds their joined hands, and if she doesn't let herself think about what this simple touch is doing to her, it feels right and comforting. If she does think about it however, she feels the desire residing beneath her skin, painting pictures of things that aren't hers to have, never have been, not with Elliot. That desire that's been dormant for the past few years and starts to awaken again-it's a dangerous thing.

"We'll do it soon then." His voice is steady, and the intensity of his gaze makes her blush. She's never been more grateful for the cover poor lighting provides.

"I'd like that." Her heart is pounding in her chest, in her ears, and in her veins. It shouldn't be like this. The prospect of dinner with him shouldn't have this effect on her, not after everything he put her through. The anger that's lived within her has dissipated by now, she got rid of a good portion once she started talking to Lindstrom. In the past few months she got used to having Elliot around again, which is scary. She knows she can't let herself depend on him again. He disappeared once. She doesn't trust he won't do it again, and all the apologies in the world can't change that something in her still feels irreparably broken.

"Are you seeing someone, Liv?" He doesn't look at her, wipes his mouth. The insecurity is blatant but she can't place it.

"Am I seeing someone?" He nods, but doesn't say anything, his forehead wrinkled by a deep frown. "Why does that matter?"

"Liv-" Elliot's voice is a quiet rumble. "It's… I just need to know."

Sighing, she glances away, but drags her eyes back towards him. He has no business knowing these things, and yet she can't fault him for being curious. Not when she's still wondering who that mystery woman he lied to Maureen about is. So, begrudgingly, she gives in.

"I'm not." She hasn't in an embarrassingly long time. She was asked out a few times, and even Garland had tried to set her up with a lawyer friend of his at a private dinner, but while Edgar Goodwin was good looking and charming, she decided that she wasn't willing to add another failed relationship to her record.

Tipping his head back he breathes something that sounds like a sigh of relief.

"What was that?" She should be furious, but right now there's only space for confusion. He's always been an overzealous prick, meddling in her love life when he had no right. Maybe she's too used to it to get angry, thirteen years of his shit have made her somewhat immune. And maybe his obvious relief intrigues her the tiniest bit, because he knows as well as she does that their status quo doesn't allow for him to get involved.

"Remember when I told you I was confused about a lot of things?"

"I do. At your squad."

"You are one of the things I was confused about." He shakes his head slowly. "I don't know if I should be saying this, but then I also don't know how to go on pretending that you were only ever my partner. That I didn't wish-if things had been different, if I hadn't been married-," he confesses pinching his nose. "That I don't still wish we could be more."

Out of all the things she expected, him talking openly about the fact he used to have feelings for her, that the possibility of more had crossed his mind, isn't one of them. She read his letter, of course, and between apology and explanation he'd hinted at it, yet the clarity is overwhelming. And she can't. It's too much. Olivia can't even consider going there. Exhaustion suddenly dissolves her bewilderment, and she rubs her fingers across her mouth, exhaling shakily. "So...what's the biggest trouble you ever got into as a kid?"

Elliot turns, looks at her closely, then sniffs. There is a long pause, as if he's going to press, then he says, "Getting Kathy pregnant. My dad was still alive, and he threw me out immediately. Said if I was going to do something 'that grown up' I should go and be a grown-up. I went to the recruiter's office the next day and signed up, effective the day of high school graduation." He swallows. "Best and worst thing I ever did, on both counts. So...what kind of chores did you have as a kid?"

"Besides cleaning up my mom's vomit?" Even Olivia can hear that her scoffing chuckle is bitter.

"Olivia-"

"No, the usual. Dusting, vacuuming, dishes, tidy my room, help fold laundry. It was just the two of us, so we both...we shared the chores." Olivia takes a long breath, slowly breathing out. The silence is awkward, brittle. "What was your favorite piece of playground equipment?"

"Monkey bars." Elliot's answer is unhesitating. "I could scale any set of monkey bars in seconds, from the top or bottom, and I could do the cross-bars in doubles, forward or backward, faster than anyone at the school." Olivia smiles, finding it kind of sweet that he's still proud of this. "How about you?"

"The swings. Especially the tall ones. Remember the ones with chains at least 20 feet long? I could swing on those as high as they would go and...I felt so utterly free, like I could fly. I think one of the only times my mom ever seemed scared for my safety was when she saw me jump out from the very top of the swing. There's a feeling, at that moment, like you could fly if you could jump at just the right moment." Her eyes fall closed and with a smile lifting her cheeks she can almost feel the wind blowing in her hair, the sweet, warm summer breeze tickling her face, the freedom, the way her stomach plummeted the moment she jumped. "I loved that."

"Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we gonna talk about what I said?"

"Not yet," she says just above a whisper. "Elliot, Kathy's only been gone for… I have no right to-"

From her periphery she sees him nod. "Liv, it's okay. I asked, and I'm okay with talking about it, but if you're not ready, that's all right too. Of course, my next question was going to be where the most daring place you ever had sex was."

"Elliot!" Liv stares at him, and, even in the dim light, she can see the twinkle in his eye, the challenge to the set of his eyebrows. Son of a bitch. "You're the one who said not to be a perv," she reminds him.

He shrugs, tossing it right back to her.

Shaking her head, half displeased, half amused, Olivia shifts a little, looking right at him. If he wants to play, she's going to play. "Fine." She sits up a little straighter. "In the cribs." It comes out confidently.

His jaw actually drops, mouth opening, then closing. "Wait...how? When? With… Was it at the 1-6?"

She just smiles complacently, tilts her head, and continues. "So...what was the most embarrassing time one of your kids caught you having sex? And which kid was it?"

Elliot laughs out loud. "Eli. Definitely Eli. We were on the balcony at our place in Rome, and Eli walked in, already asking...something or other...and then stopped himself, closed his eyes, shouted, 'Ew! You two are too old! Cannot! Unsee!' and felt his way out of the room like a blind man."

"That sounds more funny than embarrassing."

"Well, the embarrassing part was that his shouting attracted attention from the terrace below, and several Italian couples applauded us."

"Oh, no!"

"The worst was that one was our primary grocer and his wife. Every time we bought food after that, they just smirked at us." Elliot shakes his head.

At this Olivia shakes with laughter.

"I mean...I get that we're his parents...but...too old?" Elliot huffs. "What about you? Noah ever catch you?"

"I'd have to have sex for that to happen," Olivia snorts dryly.

Elliot rolls his eyes. "No, seriously."

"I am serious. Really. It's... it's been years, it's almost sad at this point, but, well, Eli's right. We are pretty old."

"I disagree, but I admit there are days my body begs to differ. Is that what made you take the sergeant and lieutenant exams?"

"Not really. Cragen told me that Munch was planning on retiring, and he asked me to take the sergeant's exam. It was right after- it gave me something to focus on. Then we had a temporary C.O., and he told me when he was about to leave, said I should take the lieutenant's exam so they'd let me be C.O., so...I did."

Elliot smiles at her, his eyes soft.

"What's that about?"

"What's what about?"

"You...smiling like you're telling me about one of your kids hitting a home run."

"It's because I'm proud of you, Olivia Benson. You always deserved this, and...I was so afraid you wouldn't- Sometimes I felt like you were holding back, settling in place because of me. Do you think you would have taken the exams if we'd still been partners?"

"Well, you were there first. The sergeant's position should have been yours first if you'd still been there, and-" She looks at him and, facing him directly, her stomach turns over. "No." She looks down at her hands, twists them together. "No. I would have done anything to stay partners with you, even if it meant never getting promoted."

"I wouldn't have wanted that, Liv, even with seniority. I'm a good cop, but I doubt I'd make a good C.O."

"You said it, not me." She nudges him with an elbow.

"We both know it's true, though. Look-," he sighs heavily, scratching his chin. „I regret leaving like I did. That wasn't right. You deserved to hear from me that I quit, and why I had to walk away. From the job and from our partnership. But leaving in itself? You telling me you wouldn't have pursued a promotion? I don't regret that. You are right where you were always meant to be, Liv. I never would have wanted to stand in the way of that."

"I know." She leans into his arm gently. "I know."

The silence stretches a long minute, and Olivia takes several measured breaths. "So...my turn. What is one thing you never wanted me to know? No questions asked. No judgement."

It's silent for another long, full minute. Elliot draws an audible breath. "Pas-" He pauses. "No." Another breath, in, then out. "If I answer, will you answer?"

Olivia swallows, thinks, then, slowly, nods. "Okay."

"Okay." His words come rushing out on a single breath, quick and quiet. "I kissed Angela Wheatley."

He waits for a few beats, watching her closely, probably expecting some kind of verbal reaction. Abiding the rules, Olivia doesn't ask, doesn't judge. However, she swallows hard as she processes the information. Angela Wheatley. Of all the fucking people in the world. She has questions, of course. When? How? Why? But instead of following instinct, she makes her own confession.

"I slept with Ed Tucker. Actually, we dated for about a year. We broke up when he retired. He wanted me to retire with him, but," she shrugs. "I wasn't done yet."

"Damn," he whistles through his teeth.

"No judgement," she reminds him.

"Not judging," Elliot says, holding up his hands defensively. "Just… surprised, is all."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Was he good to you? Tucker?" There's no animosity clinging to the other man's name, and at the memory of him Olivia has to smile.

"He was. He was a good man." She doesn't want to talk about Tucker, though, because if they do she's going to think of the way he died, that he died, and that still hurts. "Unicorns: Do they look more like horses or deer?"

Elliot bursts into laughter, and Olivia joins in, spluttering. She bends over, and he's reaching out, grabbing her shoulder, both of them unable to pull themselves together. She laughs so hard, her belly hurts.

"What kind of question is that?" Elliot wheezes.

"I don't know, Rollins sometimes texts me this stuff. I'm pretty sure it's stuff her older daughter comes home with. That one's a spitfire."

"Like her mama, huh?"

"Yep." She draws in a deep breath, interrupted by chuckles as she thinks of one of the jokes Amanda sent her. "Why can't you explain puns to kleptomaniacs?"

Elliot looks at her, his facial expression blank. Eventually he shrugs his shoulders. "No idea."

"They always take things literally."

"That's funny," he chuckles.

"I got another one that fits you," she grins mischievously.

"Do tell."

"What did the bald man say when he got a comb for a present?" She waits a few beats. "Thanks, I'll never part with it."

"That hurt," he says in mock-sadness, putting a hand to his chest. When they are both done laughing he gets more serious. "I miss this. I miss you." His head droops and he shakes it. "And I want to get back what we-" Elliot exhales roughly. "That's not right. I don't want to get back what we had, because the back and forth made my head spin. I tried to do the right thing, Liv. For you, f-for, for Kathy, my family."

"You really wanna do this here, Elliot?" Her voice is low, raw.

"We didn't do it when we weren't trapped in an elevator, so we might as well. I just… we need to talk, Liv."

He's right. They need to talk, they should have talked a long time ago, but somehow the right moment never presented itself, and when they started once, she got called in.

"Please?" His hand is on her arm, his fingertips calloused but warm against her skin. She feels a subtle squeeze, and it breaks through her barriers, gentle and convincing.

"Fine," she breathes, and looks at him. "Let me start then. At the intervention? When you said-," she pauses and swallows, unable to repeat the words back.

"I love you," he offers.

"Yeah, that. What was that all about?" Her voice is fairly neutral, but her heart is beating so fast, it's almost making her nauseous.

There's a long moment of silence, but when their gazes lock, Elliot starts to talk.

"I meant that. I didn't mean to say it at that moment, not in front of my kids, not-," he shakes his head, shifting his jaw from side to side. "-not like that. And I'm not going to pretend I wasn't caught off guard and confused, but I meant it."

Olivia draws in a shaky breath, nods in acknowledgement. She wants to say something, anything, but her emotions incapacitate her.

"I didn't know how to talk about that night, Liv. How to talk to you about anything I was going through. You were too important to me, and part of it is that...I didn't want you to see me like that, to see how messed up I truly was. And I just didn't feel like I deserved to lean on you, not after I abandoned you."

"Do you have any idea how much that hurt?" She asks, tears shimmering in her eyes that she hopes like hell she can hold back. "That after everything… I was there, and all I needed was for you to trust me, to let me be there, and instead you kept pushing me-"

"Olivia," he says softly, pulling her hand into his lap. "I am sorry. I didn't know how to. I was scared, I was ashamed, grieving. I couldn't think past that pain. Seeing you again after all this time? It turned my world upside down. My wife was murdered, and I was angry and devastated, and I needed to know why, I needed to know who was responsible, and there was no space for anything else," he rasps. "Then whenever I saw you, I was overwhelmed by the guilt I felt for leaving, and the… the shocking intensity of how I still felt about you." He tilts his head back, chuckles helplessly. "For fuck's sake, Liv, Kathy had just died, and all I could think was how I never should've walked away from you. And the more I felt that, the less I could be around you, the less I could confide in you, because how on earth was I supposed to explain to you that while I was devastated over my wife's death, I was also so confused about how much I still wanted you? I didn't trust myself around you, and I couldn't allow for any lapses of judgement with you, because we were already too fragile. I would've made a mistake, Olivia. I didn't want to hurt you, I didn't want to push you away, I only wanted to protect you, so that if you were ever able to forgive me, we'd have a fighting chance, no matter what our relationship would be."

Every word from his mouth rips old wounds open, but for the first time she thinks she understands the complexity behind his behavior, the complexity of his feelings for her before he left. Her brain can hardly process it, because while she always thought there was something, that he must have felt it, too, she never quite expected to get verbal, irrevocable confirmation. Her gaze still lingers on their joined hands, the way he's touching her so delicately, and she swallows hard now that everything is in the open. When she blinks, tears fall, rolling over the slope of her cheek.

"You know, I've been to therapy over you," she chuckles sadly, wiping at her tears. "You came back so suddenly and… you weren't in a good place, and I was angry and hurt, and so, so confused." The last word is a whisper. "And I still don't know how to verbalize why you leaving could hurt me so deeply, so profoundly. Why I struggled for months-who am I kidding, years-over losing a co-worker when not one break-up-with men I was with for over a year, with one I lived with-caused me an ounce of that heartache. Why when I saw you again, despite how shitty you'd treated me, despite you having been such a coward, I still was ready to drop everything for you, do anything for you, to be close to you, to matter to you. But it's always been wrong, the way I felt, the things I never dared to even hope for…"

"Liv, come here. Come 'ere," he tugs at her hand and turns into her, pulling her close as she complies and moves towards him. His chest is broad and hard, his arms strong as he nuzzles her neck, mumbling words of apology. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but I need you. I… I need you, and I don't want the distance, I don't want to have missed my chance." His voice is gravel now, and the implications of his words make her throat close. She's reeling from his embrace, and she doesn't want to be released, wondering if she'll ever be in his arms again. They've never been so honest, and she's scared it's going to destroy them. When he pulls his head back and scrutinizes her, his face is tense. "Don't be distant."

There's a plea in his eyes, in his voice, and her stomach drops. She doesn't know what to say, not when her head is spinning with the possibilities he's painting. How many times did she hope he'd say something like this, and now that the moment is here she's shell-shocked and speechless. All the barriers that used to exist are gone. The job, his marriage, her decency, his faith. Twenty-three years, and for once there's nothing to hold them back, if she allows it.

"Liv-"

"I may seem distant," she croaks. "I'm trying like hell to protect myself. And, even more, to protect Noah, because he's just a kid, and I won't let anybody near him who I'm not certain can be a constant person in his life. There is so much instability that comes with our kind of job, so he needs stability when I'm home," she closes her eyes.

"I understand that and-"

She touches her fingertips to his mouth, shaking her head slowly as her eyes slip closed for a moment. "When I'm with you, it doesn't feel distant, for me it hasn't for a while now. When I look at us? Really search myself and feel what's in my heart? You feel like home, Elliot. You...I've only ever felt truly home with you." Olivia breathes out shakily as his hands settle against her shoulders, his touch causing her to wince into the thick, hot air between them. "I don't want to feel unmoored anymore. I want to be home again."

Her breath comes unsteady, almost staccato when he reaches for her face, cupping her cheek gently. She leans into his warm palm, allows herself to be touched like this, tenderly.

"I'm right here, Liv," she hears Elliot say, voice low, but she can't say she isn't hesitant and terrified of letting her guard down.

She exhales roughly, her head falling forward, eyes drooping. It sounds so easy, so uncomplicated and tempting.

"I'm so scared," she admits, her hand coming up, grasping his wrist. She's inclined to remove his hand, but nestles her face fully in his palm instead. Pressing her lips together, Olivia can still feel the honesty burning in her throat like acid.

"I know you are, but Liv…" When her lashes lift she looks at him, swallows. He's so close now. His face. His lips. All Elliot. She wants him so much, her heart is going to wither if she keeps holding back.

The air between them is thick when her forehead meets his, and she's hanging on the last bit of physical restraint she has left. Elliot's hand slips from her cheek to her neck, his fingers spreading into her hair, across her nape, making her wonder if she's always going to feel as if his hand melts into her skin.

"Come home," he murmurs. Momentarily Olivia forgets how to breathe, how to think. He's asking her to come home. Come to him, trust him. In her chest, her heart is thudding uncontrollably, and the effect this proximity has on her buzzes through her veins like last night's wine. He's so close, she can feel his breath on her face, encouraging her to come closer, as his words keep reverberating in her head.

Two simple words nudge her over the edge. Two simple words that cause her to fall into him, finally.

Her stomach plummets the moment she tilts her head and touches her lips to his in a chaste kiss. For a moment neither of them moves, until she exhales heavily through her nose and he molds his mouth to hers. They are both breathing shallowly, treading carefully, his fingertips pressing into the small of her back. When Elliot's tongue traces the crevice of Olivia's lips, she makes a tiny, delightful sound that gets lost between them as she responds more eagerly.

Elliot's fingers get lost in her hair, drawing her in for a moment before he pulls back, releasing her lips. His breath is ragged, and she can tell he stopped in order to restrain himself.

"Elliot," she breathes, her lips aching to feel him, be caressed by him again.

"You want this, right? Tell me I'm not overstepping here, Liv."

"I want-," she manages, her eyes closing, her stomach dropping with the sheer need she feels, a need that's been trapped beneath her skin for decades now. "Yes." It comes out throatily, and with it she can feel Elliot's restraint slip away. His mouth presses against hers again, more urgently this time, and she responds, mouth and full body. His tongue pries her lips apart, fills her mouth, and this time she doesn't hold back, but reciprocates eagerly. He pulls her intimately close, and to her hammering heart they find a satisfying rhythm. It's been years since she was last kissed. Close to a decade she's been kissed so thoroughly that a fire is sparked in the pit of her stomach, making her entire body hum. She chases those kisses, his touch, his proximity.

Olivia has no idea how she ends up on top of Elliot, straddling him, or how the only thing she can think about is how his tongue is in her mouth, one hand on her ass, but she still feels all of it right between her legs. What she does know is that he's addictive, and she's past the point of questioning what the hell they are doing.

When Elliot's lips cascade down her chin and throat, Olivia tilts her head back, a moan escaping her when teeth scrape along the juncture of her neck. His mouth is hot and wet, the air so stifling she can hardly breathe. His hands purposefully drag up her sides. When Olivia shifts and scoots forward, her core lands flush against Elliot's crotch, finding him impossibly hard through his dress pants, adding a whole other dimension to her arousal.

"I need-," she breathes, and cups his face when he lifts his head. He's so beautifully familiar and she drinks in his sight, in the safety she finds in it. She kisses him again, her fingers undoing a few buttons of her blouse. Elliot groans into her mouth when he realizes what she's doing, or maybe it's because of the friction she seeks by grinding her hips against his crotch. "It's too damned hot," chuckles Olivia, pulling back for a moment. She's acutely aware of the throbbing between her legs, a sensation she hasn't felt for far too long, and she's positive it's going to cost her her mind.

Trying to catch her breath, Olivia drops her forehead against Elliot's as his hands slowly move up her torso. "We should stop," he grinds out, proving just how little self-control he has when he cups her breasts. She's never heard anything more unconvincing in her life.

"Yeah, we should stop," she agrees, leaning back as his mouth seeks out her cleavage, a small moan escaping as Elliot's lips skim her left bra-clad breast. He's slow, teasing, his breath hot and mind-numbing as she grabs his neck, feeling the burr of hair at the base of it. She swallows, realizing how stupid they are, how reckless. But damn, does it feel good.

Their lips meet again and it's searing now. Olivia's blood is pumping through her veins like a jackhammer, and the pulsing between her legs is bordering on unbearable.

"Can you… I need," she grinds out, roughly exhaling against his teeth before she lifts her hips, undoes the button of her pants, and pushes them, along with her underwear, as far as they will go, just across her ass. She's not thinking, driven by nothing but the desire that's been suppressed for too long.

"Liv, wait…"

"Just… please…" She grabs his hand and she's shaking with need and anticipation alike as she guides it between them.

"Fuck," he breathes, squeezing his eyes shut. "You sure?"

Instead of answering him she pushes his hand between her legs, exactly where she needs it, pressing his fingertips against her throbbing clit. Just the touch of his bare fingers is everything. She gasps into his mouth, holding his hand in place as she starts moving against it. "Holy shit…El," her breath is rough and staccato.

Twenty-three years and the forbidden fruit couldn't taste any better.

Her head spins, and if she had to guess she's pretty sure she's not going to last longer than a minute, if that. She's completely electrified as his fingers spread out on her, seek her out, learn her. He's barely just grazing her, and squeezing her eyes shut she thinks she's going to come apart just from that. He finds her entrance, and she's wet and aching, ready. The stretch when he starts to push into her is delicious. Until he stops dead upon the distinct sound of the light flickering back on above them.

"This has to be a joke," Olivia says, voice dry and hoarse. In his face she reads total disbelief. She doesn't dare move, holds her breath, eyes locked with Elliot's much like they did earlier when the elevator stopped abruptly. It's the familiar whirring that propels her into almost frantic motion.

"The universe has a twisted sense of humor," Elliot deadpans.

She climbs off of him, stumbling to her feet as the elevator starts moving again, the display showing their descent. 25th floor. She fixes her pants first, then her blouse, muttering curses underneath her breath as she puts on her socks and easily slips into her Chelsea boots. They're on the 5th floor by the time she's good and ready, blazer draped over her arm. Elliot steps in front of her, wiping his thumb across the corner of her mouth.

"Lipstick," he clarifies.

"Thanks," she breathes, feeling the heat in her cheeks and deep in her belly.

"Are we good, Liv?" Elliot looks worried, his eyes swimming with uncertainty. Olivia cocks her head a little, reaching out to touch his cheek.

"We're good," she assures, leaning in to place a simple kiss on the corner of his mouth, pulling back just as the doors slide open.

Unsurprisingly Olivia has a multitude of missed calls and text messages that she answers once they're in the car. Noah, like she suspected, is with Amanda, and luckily, after her promise to do movie night tomorrow, he's not nearly as disappointed as expected. Seeing that it's late they agree he can spend the night, and after a quick talk and kisses goodnight over FaceTime, Olivia hangs up, leaning her head back.

"So, all is well?"

"Yeah," she breathes, tilting her head to look at him at the wheel. "We have this emergency tree for the kids that works really well, not that we need to use it often, but… takes the stress out, you know? I knew Noah would be taken care of."

"That's good. Are you close? You and Rollins?" He quickly glances over at her, both hands tightly on the steering wheel, posture rigid.

"By now. We had our problems. I think motherhood made us bond, and we're… we're good friends now."

Elliot nods, clears his throat as he makes a left turn. One thing is for sure, he's making this awkward as hell. For a few minutes the silence is thick, and it doesn't help that what happened in the elevator is playing like a film reel on a loop in her head. When he pulls up into an empty parking space near her building she tries to shake the memories off, looks at him.

"Can I walk you up?"

She looks out of her window, a smile tugging on her lips as he exhales heavily.

"Yeah, okay."

They get out and enter the building, crossing the lobby. When they reach the elevator Olivia hesitates briefly before pushing the button. They both get in, and as the doors close, and their eyes meet, she can't help but cover a smirk with her hand.

When they get off on her floor, Olivia leads the way to her door, unlocking it. Turning around she leans against the doorframe, scrutinizing him.

"Elliot? What's going on?"

"Nothing, I'm just…" Shaking his head he glances over again. "What happened in the elevator? Are we going to talk about that?"

She doubts they could sweep it under the rug if they tried. Things are complicated enough without pretending she doesn't know the taste of his lips, or the way his hand feels on her...in her. At the thought alone, she clenches her thighs together. By the way his gaze drops, she's not too subtle about it. Damn.

"I think it's safe to say that there's a lot we need to talk about, the elevator included. Not tonight, though. I just want a shower and my bed."

"Do you regret it?" It seems he can't even look at her now, and she wonders if he's worried what he'll see.

"No, I don't regret it, El," she says, using his nickname deliberately. She gives him a sideways glance, curling up one corner of her mouth. "I do regret they didn't get that thing going a minute or two later, that would've been less frustrating," she admits and breathes out. He looks up, and his eyes are full with glee and surprise, he doesn't even try to hide the grin that stretches across his face. "Told you. It's been years."

Her cheeks burn as she puts her head against the doorframe, smiling innocently at him. She only falters when he steps closer, reaches for her hand to pull her towards him.

"Liv, if you-"

"I have to stop you right there," she says quietly, but straightens a little. "I can't. It's not that I don't want to, but we really do need to talk before things can go any further."

"I didn't mean to insinuate you'd want to…"

She shakes her head, slowly blowing out a breath. "Okay. I'm sorry, I… what were you about to say then?"

"I meant to ask if you wanted to talk. After your shower."

"Oh," she says, closing her eyes. She gets that he wants to talk, but she's nowhere near ready to get into Lewis with him. In fact, before she opens that can of worms, she thinks she needs a couple of sessions with Lindstrom. Pursing her lips, she looks back up at Elliot, her face apologetic.

"Um… I'm...I'm just not ready for that right now. Maybe not for a few weeks. It's not you at all, and it's not that I don't want to. I've got some things to work through. But Noah and I, we're going to have our movie night tomorrow, and we'll order pizza, and if you want… um… if you want I'd like you to join us, and meet my son." It's an olive branch, as much as a sign of her forgiveness. She's ready to let him fully back into her life, ready to introduce him to Noah, if only as a friend, for now.

The impact is instant. There's a disbelieving expression on his face as it sinks in, and he repeats it back to her. "Meet Noah? Really?"

"Really," she says softly, grasping for his hand, lightly wrapping her fingers around his. "No more being distant. I'm in, and I'm willing to figure this out, together."

"I'd really like that," he says, his voice raspy and his eyes full to the brim with emotion. "All of that."

"Okay. So, tomorrow, 6 PM, and if you wanna get in Noah's good graces, maybe bring ice cream. Fudge ripple," she hints, slowly dropping his hand before inching backwards inside her apartment. "Night, El." She puts her cheek against the ledge of the door, smiling sweetly at him before she starts closing it.

"Goodnight, Liv."

Her smile feels as shy as his looks. "Night, El. See you tomorrow."

She closes the door and leans against it for a moment, her eyes falling shut as a smile unfurls across her face. For the first time in over 10 years, saying goodbye doesn't feel like loss. Something in Olivia's chest unknots. It's hope, even certainty, foreign, but welcome.

It's a road untraveled, but possibly, hopefully leading her home.

She takes one more deep breath then pushes off the door, headed to the shower. She's got business Elliot started in the elevator to finish, after all.