Author's Note: Mentions (not graphic) of William Lewis. Olivia's line about "only telling her story once" comes from a relative of mine who survived a front-page tragedy. This is a little bit of clearing the elephants in the room, so to speak, before they can move forward.

There was a beauty in their stillness, she thought. His eyes were locked on hers, and her hands were wrapped around his. For all the thousands of times in the past they'd looked at each other, touched each other, this felt different. Now, more than ever before, there was intent.

Before tonight, she could have chalked all of it up to a long series of honest mistakes and mistaken interpretations taken too far out of context. In the before, she could be blissful in her pretense of ignorance.

Now, there was no way out but to acknowledge the latent, painful truth that rested between them and work within it.

"That's all I wanted to hear," he said, exhaling slowly. "I know I don't have the right anymore –"

"Like hell you would." She'd had the same ten years he'd had to figure out who she was without him. The difference between them was that she'd never gotten the chance on whether or not to make the decision. And that he could have ever had the thought that he still had the same rights he'd previously enjoyed sent a flare of raw fury coursing through her. "You don't know what it was like without you."

"I know. I get it."

"No, you really don't." She sucked her tongue between her teeth and sighed. This was the thing that always infuriated her, the way he thought he knew everything about her so well. "It was really hard, Elliot. If I close my eyes and let my thoughts wander for very long, it comes back to me."

"What does?"

Her voice cracked. "The worst days of my life. And you weren't there."

His heart dropped into his stomach at her loaded, yet entirely accurate, accusation, and he wasn't even sure what she was talking about. "I would have if I'd known. But I didn't."

"I thought everyone in the entire tri-state area knew. My name and picture were plastered everywhere in the news for days."

"The kids – Kathy – none of them ever said anything about you."

She waved her hand in the air and frowned. "I wouldn't expect them to."

God, his inquisitive detective mind was racing at a thousand miles a minute, trying to put together the clues she'd laid out for him, and yet, coming up blank. "You don't have to tell me right now, if you don't want to, but you know I'll listen if you do." He'd hold off on the comprehensive Google search and deep diving into whatever files were available to him at work until she opened up to him. He had to hear the hurt from her directly, or he'd never be able to live with himself.

"One day. I'll only tell you once, because it's hard enough as it is, but one day, I will." Her eyes glimmered with the sharp points of unshed tears. Some part of him wanted to break their hold on each other's hands, reach across, and wipe them all away, but he resisted.

"I understand." He understood, and he knew she'd deny his understanding, but he could at least begin to understand – now that he'd had his own worst day of his life, his own story he'd only tell once and never again. He brushed his foot against hers under the table and gave her a small smile. "I wasn't there on your worst day, but you were there on mine."

"Funny how that works, huh?" She brushed her thumb along his. "If I wouldn't have been there and only found out later –"

"You would have moved Heaven and Earth to get to me and the kids."

"Something like that." A rogue tear slipped from the corner of her eye, and his resistance was shattered; he deftly captured it rolling down her cheek and pressed the salty wetness against her warm, living skin. She was alive: so beautifully, painfully alive that it made his heart hurt to see her in pain, and to know that his absence had caused her pain.

His thumb lingered for a moment, hovering over her, as a thousand competing thoughts fought for supremacy. He craved the warmth of her touch, as the beginning of a blush crested over her. But he retreated, his hand tucking back into hers like it never happened. The evidence of a dried tear on her cheek and her unreadable smile left in the wake was the only way he knew he hadn't imagined it.

"What do I do next?" he asked. Kathy had always been the one to plan his life, and he lived it. The schedules they kept didn't bode well for a neatly regimented life. "There's Eli, and I don't know what to say to him half the time anymore, and there's the job, and there's –"

"El," she said, and his stomach had to do a little flip at hearing her old nickname for him once again. "El, have you ever taken time for yourself? Not the kids, not Kathy, not – not me, or anyone else, for that matter. Just you."

"It's never just been me." He's never been alone; he and Kathy had rushed into marriage far too young and stayed together, even through his deployment, where he had hundreds of other guys in the same perilous situation fighting right alongside him. And then there came the kids, of course, and he wouldn't trade any of the five of them for the world. And the squad, and Olivia, and all the victims who needed him, and – he'd always been so busy taking care of everyone else that he'd forgotten about himself. "Never been alone." Fuck, he needed another beer right about now, but her grasp had wound itself so tightly around him that he didn't feel as if he could justify moving a muscle.

"Not asking you to be alone. Just do something for yourself once in a while. Like tomorrow, what do you have planned tomorrow?" She looked down at her cell phone on the table. "Or, more accurately, later today."

"Work for a while, touch base with Bell, see what Wheatley's gotten his claws into now, any new leads I can chase down, whatever," he said. "Dunno, it doesn't seem like it's going to be a crazy day, but you know things can change."

"Can you make me a promise?" Her eyelids fluttered closed and she fought back a stifled yawn. He could recognize a sleepy woman any time.

"Anything."

"After – after that, I started to see a therapist, sometimes, to talk things out. 'Cause, well, it was mandated for a while, but he did help. Does help. I still see him, not as often, but I do, if I need to." She broke their hold and reached into her purse, pulling out a small business card and nudging it toward him. "He does a lot of work with the NYPD, Dr. Lindstrom. You don't have to call him, but call someone like him, at least, set up an appointment, even if it's by telehealth. Talk to them. Anything is better than nothing."

"You know how I felt about Huang." He picked up the card and ran his fingers over the pre-printed ink. Maybe she had a point.

She rolled her eyes, and he knew she was likely remembering the barbs the two men used to trade back and forth. "I know, but you've been through a lot lately. You need this. Can you promise me? Please?"

He could never resist her. "Okay, Liv. I promise." He held up his right hand in the Boy Scout salute he remembered from his earlier days. "Scout's honor."

"Good. Though I don't know how much Scout's honor is worth compared to the honor of our badges." She stood up and turned to face him, fatigue weighing heavily on her delicate features. "I'm getting kinda sleepy, so I should probably head back – if you're okay for tonight, that is. I can check in on you in a few hours after Noah gets off to school."

"Don't drive if you're that tired. Stay here. I'm sure your sitter would understand."

"You sure? What about Eli? What's he going to think when he wakes up in the morning and finds a strange woman sleeping on his couch?"

"Eli knows who you are." He remembered the night the year before, when his youngest son had pawed through his wallet looking for a few spare euros for some flavored San Pellegrino drink and found a small wallet-sized picture of Olivia and him together, her arm slung over his shoulder, taken at some charity fundraising event 1PP forced them to go to once. "That's my friend back in New York, Olivia," he'd said, after his son had questioned him on the identity of the "pretty brunette" in the picture. "You knew her when you were really little." And he'd known that while everything he said was true, he was leaving out key details that Eli didn't need to know. "He's seen a picture of you."

Once the tiredness finally hit, it always came fast for her, and she could barely grasp the significance of Eli having seen a picture of her. What picture? When? Why? She couldn't imagine Kathy allowing him to have a framed picture of her out on their shelves next to the other pictures commemorating their lives together. But she was too tired to think, and she knew she'd have to go into work for at least a while that morning, so she had to get some form of rest. At least Lucy knew not to expect her back before Noah left for school.

"Can I borrow a t-shirt for tonight?" she asked. "Promise I won't make it smell all floral and girly."

"Wouldn't be a problem even if you did. Be right back." A moment later, he tossed a dark gray t-shirt to her with a smirk. On her, it would be almost a dress. "Do you need me to get a pillow for the couch?" He motioned to a blue woven afghan. "There's a blanket there, if you want it."

"That'd be great." While he went off in the other room in search of a pillow, she made her way to the couch and quickly changed into the t-shirt, leaving her bra and underwear on, and put the clothes she'd come in on the floor next to her. She was well-versed in the art of the quick change of clothes. There was something about wearing a guy's shirt that made her feel impossibly close to them, and she looked down at the faded Marine emblem emblazoned on her chest. Unmistakably a shirt Elliot would wear.

He came back in the room and handed her a pillow. "Wish it was one of those fancy memory foam ones like the girls like, but this is all I could find."

"S'long as it's comfortable." It had a green pillowcase on it, and she almost wondered if it had come from his bed. Maybe it was his pillow. It was too nice to be a random one he'd found. She fluffed it behind her and found it to be more than acceptably so. Her words were slurring together, and she knew her crash was coming dangerously fast. "G'night, El."

"Night, Liv," he said. He turned off the television and pressed a small, chaste kiss to the top of her forehead. With a smile, the overhead light went dark and Olivia was alone, drifting off to sleep and wondering what the meaning of all that had transpired would become.

It'd been good for her to come, after all.

-to be continued-