I do not own Law & Order: SVU/ Organized Crime or any affiliated characters. Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated.

I toss and turn. I try to get his "careless" words out of my mind…

"I love you…"

I guess sleep won't be coming easily tonight.

My phone rings, I ignore it.
Wanting to curse at whomever it is calling me at this hour. I have to be up early to go into work.
I've already lost so much time. So much for "beauty" sleep.

My phone rings again, I see "Stabler" pop up on my phone. Speak of the devil. I should have known he is still persistent and stubborn. He won't stop, not when there's something on his mind. Not when he's determined to reach out to me. That is what has made this past decade all the worse.

I haven't forgotten how infuriated I am at him. Maybe now he'll realize it too, when I refuse to answer and he goes to voicemail. I am not at his "beck and call," not anymore.

I try to calm my racing thoughts and settle on any of the feelings the mix bag of emotions tonight has opened up for me.

I know it's futile to ignore the compulsion any longer… I begrudgingly reach to my nightstand and look at my phone. I see the voicemails he left

I push play, I hear him say "Look, I get it.." How many times have I heard him say that lately? He says he does "get it," but he sure does not act that way. That he understands at all what he is doing to me. How much he tears at my "better" judgement. My sanity. The voice in my head that tells me to keep the wall up, don't let him back in, ever. A voice of "reason" that unfortunately seems to be growing smaller and fainter with each passing day.

I press play again this time on a different voicemail, one that recently has popped up, "Liv, he knew. He was there. He activated the bomb from across the street. It was Sacha Lenski. He saw everything. He knew it was Kathy getting into the car…"

Shit. My hand hits my face I pull on my hair. I hear the pain in his voice as he struggles to explain… He's not making much sense. All I know is he reached out. And I sent him to voicemail.

I call him back immediately and hear, "Thank you for calling…" A tinge of guilt tugs at me.

"Please leave a message."

I say, "Elliot, it's me. I'm sorry I didn't pick up..."
And I surprise myself that it is the truth. I am so sorry in this moment, quite a drastic change from the one that came before. Screw whatever is left of my pride that I had been attempting to cling to.

I continue, "I just listened to your message…"

I sigh, "Call me back. Please. Call me back, okay?"