A/N: This idea started on Twitter with people talking about how EO should attend Fin's wedding and how it should be similar to the classic S2 Grey's Anatomy scene where Mererdith and Derek both attend a party with their current boyfriend and wife, but can't seem to take their eyes off of each other the whole night — until...

Initially, I was going to use the new canon, with Kathy's death and everything, but purpleomaddy unintentionally steered me into this different direction when she asked me if Kathy was alive in this fic and I was like... why not?

So, this is an alternate-version deleted scene from SVU's episode 22x08, "Return of the Prodigal Son". Here, there's no accident with Kathy, so she and Elliot go to Olivia's award ceremony as originally planned (instead of Fin's wedding). I'm also ignoring covid for this, since I wanted the party to be more crowded than it would have to be in our current reality. Also, maybe someone else who had originally died in canon is still alive... Whoops. Read through before killing me.

I strongly recommend listening to "All the Same" by Nick Wilson while reading.

Hope you enjoy this, please let me know in the reviews!

I see a shadow on the horizon

And I know you see it too

We're so used to looking out for each other

But this time I can't see you

On borrowed time

Too hard to face it so we hide

Maybe we knew, but we couldn't say

Maybe this night was never meant to go our way

Still, it kills me all the same

— Nick Wilson, "All the Same"

Season 22, episode 09: RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL SON

Deleted scene: IN CASE OF FIRE

"Let's make a trip out of it," she says casually, sitting in front of the mirror and brushing her hair, her expression completely removed of any telling emotions, so you're not sure if it's a test.

Oh, there have been quite a few tests throughout the years.

"Seriously, Elliot, it's okay to tell me," she's said more than once. "You and Olivia were really close, you worked together for more than twelve years… It's completely normal that you'd want to catch up once in a while."

Yes, completely normal. After she made you cut ties completely. After she encouraged you to leave the NYPD, and then, since there was nothing else keeping you in New York… Why not go live in Europe? Or is there? Something else keeping you in New York?

It hadn't seemed optional ten years ago, so you never really quite believed it was ever optional later. So no, you didn't keep in touch with your old partner of twelve years on the job, who was also your best friend and quite possibly the person who understood you best in the whole world — even better than your wife.

You don't tell your wife that, but staying in touch with Olivia from a distance such as this would've been worse than the clean break you've established. So you just tell Kathy you haven't had any contact with your former partner and let her think the sole reason was to respect her wishes.

So when she sits so casually, in her silk robe, brushing her hair and catching your eye in the mirror, you furrow your brow and watch her carefully, waiting for more information.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she smiles with that complicity you two took quite a few years to rebuild, one that hadn't been there since before the twins, maybe since before any of the kids. "I think it's a nice opportunity for you to catch up with everyone. You have to go to New York anyway, so why not see everyone?"

Everyone. That's a word with dangerous implications.

"I was just gonna see Fin, that's why I called him," you reiterate, in case it's a test. But it also happens to be the truth.

Kathy puts down her hairbrush slowly and spins in her chair to look at you without the mirror's intervention; it's like she wants to tell you there's no reversal — she's giving it to you straight.

"You should see Olivia," she says, stern, and it's almost a reprimand. She stands up and starts taking slow steps in your direction. "If it's true that you haven't talked at all in ten years…"

"It's true," you emphasize; you had to sacrifice that relationship for her, so it's imperative that she knows.

"Well, then I think it's time. You'll be in New York… Exactly when she'll be getting an award. We have to go."

We. That starts to explain it. It's a controlled meet. Well… You start to really consider it. To be honest, you know that not seeing Olivia would be easier, as strange as it feels to imagine being in New York and not seeing her — as if it's even possible to not see her in every street of Manhattan; you've walked all of them together.

You start to understand why you really had to leave New York. Leave the country. If you had to give up Olivia, you had to give it all up. That whole life. How do you go back there and visit that life ten years later? It's not going to be that same life.

It's literally going to be your life without you.

"Okay," you open a smile and your arms to receive Kathy as you repeat her words back to her. "We'll make a trip out of it."

And then, everything that comes after that is painted in that color, seen in that light. You call Fin again, you tell him you've decided to go to Olivia's award ceremony — deep down, you hope he tells her, even though he tells you to give her a call. He gives you her number. You save it in your phone, and that makes you feel like a criminal, like Kathy can't know your password anymore.

During the flight, it's like every mile of ocean you leave behind increases the uneasiness in your bones. You start several movies, you absentmindedly keep your eyes on them for half an hour only to realize you have no idea what's happened. You give up again while Kathy peacefully sleeps with her head on your shoulder; maybe you should also have taken some melatonin like she did.

But you had wanted the time to prepare yourself. You had wanted to feel every inch of distance getting left behind, gradually, the turbulence in the air around the plane mirroring the turbulence in your brain.

When the wheels connect with the New York concrete, you almost hear the Italian accent fading from the stewardess' English when she says goodbye at the door to you and a drowsy Kathy you hold by the hand. As you walk through the airport, every person you talk to sounds a bit more American, a bit more New Yorker.

You start seeing her face everywhere.

It's not like you haven't seen her in Italy — you have. Memory plays tricks on you, especially when you miss someone who used to be such a big part of your day in another life. But here it's different: when you think you see her here, it might actually be her. Because she wasn't there.

But she's here.

You leave the airport in a rental car, and you almost drive to Queens out of habit; your house is still there, but it belongs to another family now. Instead, you drive through the streets of Manhattan. You see a hundred Olivias before you pull up in front of the hotel with a relieved sigh.

You go to your training sessions and meetings, but she's the only thing in your head. You're in NYPD buildings, and it feels like her voice echoes from the hallways, carrying with the air that moves as people walk around. She could be in the conference room next to yours. How are you supposed to know? Her presence is printed on the walls even if no one else can tell.

You don't know anything about her life anymore. Her life without you.

The rainy night of the ceremony arrives quickly, without asking for permission, and you still haven't worked up the courage to call her. Even as you sit ready, waiting for Kathy to finish her makeup, you stare at her name on the screen.

Olivia Benson.

The phone's screen gives up on you and goes black. Not even a text. You really hope that Fin told her you were coming.

The streets are hectic because of the rain that drums upon the roof of the car, but you're thankful for the song nature is playing to fill the void between you and Kathy. Just as Italian had quickly faded, so did the dialogue that usually flows at home, replaced now by an awkward, charged silence. You wonder just how much she regrets convincing you to come to this ceremony.

You're late; you have no time to catch up with any of the familiar faces you spot in the otherwise-foreign crowd. Some people seem surprised to see you, some just smile knowingly — you're not sure if they've been warned you were coming or if they're just connecting the dots of Benson and Stabler and how you're simply supposed to be there for her when something like this happens.

Damn. You realize you almost didn't show up for this thing. This is Olivia. How is it possible that you considered not being here to watch her reach this milestone?

How is it possible that you missed so many of her milestones? Ten years. Of course you've missed a lot. You know she's a captain now, Captain Benson. You've missed Sergeant Benson and Lieutenant Benson who came before her. But that's just on the job. What about her life?

What if she's married now?

Fin didn't really tell you anything. It's not like you were going to ask about Olivia's love life in your quick couple of phone calls.

Captain Olivia Benson — the name blares from the speakers, and you startle, realizing it's not just bouncing off of the corners of your mind anymore. Applause ripples through the crowd as you see a figure climbing up the steps to the stage in a simple black dress with a side cleft that reveals about a third of her thigh as she walks, and when she turns to take the microphone, you see that there's also a discreet v-neckline. Her shoulder-length hair is down, slightly-curled and side-parted, and she's wearing makeup that's a bit more festive than what she used to wear on the job.

She looks absolutely beautiful. Just as she always has. A bit older, a bit different, but just as stunning.

You hadn't exactly prepared for that.

You stifle a curse word that tries really hard to make it out through your teeth, but you realize you must have given some sort of indication of your overall awe of her as you feel Kathy's hand instinctively squeezing yours. You turn your head in her direction and she has that smile on her face you haven't seen in so long.

That defeated smile, that smile that knows she's not the woman you care most about in this room, in this city.

In this continent.

And then Olivia's voice reaches your ears, and your head spins of its own accord to find her.

"I hate making speeches," she grins, and people laugh, but you know she's not just working the crowd. It's an ice breaker, but she still feels pretty cold, her now deeper voice quavering ever so slightly as she goes on. "I'm so thankful for this recognition."

She hates speaking in public, but despite that, she's good at it. You're so lost in the impressiveness of her that you're once again caught by surprise when the applause restarts.

Olivia hasn't seen you yet, and you think you should be glad; the shock could have made her trip up on the speech she was already forcing herself to give, and the last thing you would have wanted on top of everything else is to disturb her in any way.

In fact, you almost want to leave now, right now, before she sees you. You've already seen her; you've already experienced the shock of being in the same room as her again after ten years, and maybe the right thing to do would be to spare her of that re-encounter, certain as you are that she's already moved on from you: you're just her former partner. She's a fucking captain now, maybe she doesn't even remember you.

Before you can communicate that plan to Kathy, though, she's already pulling you vehemently in a particular direction with large strides you have no choice but to match.

"Olivia!" she wails like she's in a hurry to get this over with, and your eyes find Olivia in the same moment that hers find you.

She stops moving, and you can almost swear you can see her shudder, just for a moment. Less than a second. You don't know if she made any sort of effort to conceal that reaction, but the shock on her face looks very much unfiltered.

You absentmindedly follow Kathy's lead, because every inch of distance closing between you and Olivia seems to strengthen your trance.

"Elliot," you see her mouthing, still in shock, before her gaze changes focus to Kathy, a smile on her lips that doesn't exactly reach her wide eyes. "Kathy!"

"Elliot Stabler!" you hear an undeniably familiar, but completely unexpected voice, and before your mind dedicates any work to putting a face to it, it's already there, staring at you with a challenging stance and circling an outrageous arm around Olivia's waist, the insolent hand landing possessively just above her hip. Ed Tucker smirks with triumph; Olivia may have just won an award, but she's his trophy. How did this happen? "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

You smirk back with incredulity, and in this moment, you can't risk glancing at Olivia and face the fact that she's with Ed Tucker, letting him put his paws on her. Here, for all to see. For you to see. In her life without you, she fell in love with Ed fucking Tucker, and it makes you want to singlehandedly cause a plane crash. Your brain is in enough turbulence for that.

"I hope you're not here to take the award back, or her badge," you say before your brain can conjure any coherent thoughts or control your impulses, your eyes narrowing into angry slits. "Or mine."

Tucker doesn't bite. Instead, he smiles benevolently, an expression you've never seen on his face. He exchanges a look with Olivia. "Didn't know you still had one," he says, unaffected.

"I got it back," you nod, and you hate the way you feel like you need to prove yourself to this rat.

Tucker pouts with indifference. "I didn't know that!" he repeats, then turns to Olivia. "Did you know that, baby?"

Baby. Those two silly syllables send your blood boiling, racing in high speed through your veins.

"No, I did not," Olivia smiles with irony burning in her brown eyes as they inevitably bring yours to them like magnets.

"He's been working from Italy as liaison," Kathy clarifies to Olivia. "That's where we've been living."

"I'm so sorry, I never introduced myself," Tucker says, extending his hand to Kathy, who shakes it, making it so that each of this man's hands is now touching the skin of one of the women you consider yours, even if you know one of them absolutely is not. "Ed Tucker," he says.

While Kathy introduces herself and engages in a quick conversation with Tucker, you and Olivia can't disentangle your gazes, like two animals seizing each other up to assess how much danger they're in. As the seconds drag on, you feel like you're the one who needs to say something — you're the one who left after all. But you can't, consumed as you are by jealousy.

There's no other name for the feeling that burns inside your chest.

She's waiting. You can see her eyes taunting you to say something: they are threatening you, they're calling you a coward, a traitor. Everything that you are.

But still.

She's with Ed Tucker. And that's a betrayal in itself.

Disappointment widens Olivia's ironic smile, and she shakes her head slightly before taking her hand to Tucker's chest.

"Honey, I need to go greet some people," she says awkwardly, forcefully, and you feel Kathy tensing up beside you. Olivia turns to you again just in passing, and by the time her stare meets Kathy's, her expression is all politeness. "Thank you so much for coming," she says, too formal. "It was so good to see you both. Have fun!"

And then they leave, and go make rounds. As expected, everyone wants to congratulate her, and you watch it as she humbly accepts every compliment with a sheepish, tight-lipped smile, her eyes seemingly no longer aware of the location where you and Kathy are left standing.

It's a very appropriate moment for a waiter to approach you offering champagne. You and Kathy each take a glass, and you remember you're supposed to stop watching Olivia.

"She seems happy," Kathy offers, and you can't quite figure out the mood behind it.

"Good for her," you let out, a physical effort to remove all spite from your voice that you're not sure is effective.

Still, you both smile and clink glasses before drinking, and your glass is empty after that first sip.

If Kathy notices any discomfort on your part, she doesn't show it. She continues to make light, uncompromising conversation with you as you both accept more champagne. You throw the occasional look at Olivia, her arm always looped around Tucker's as they move around the room.

Fin approaches you when Kathy excuses herself to go to the ladies' room, and when he speaks, you know it's no coincidence.

"Maybe I should have warned you about that," he says before hugging you. "I just didn't think it was mine to tell."

"Well, it's easy to figure out," you shrug, not even trying to act like you don't know what he's talking about. "If she's happy, I'm happy," you lie, faking a smile.

"Yeah," Fin smiles, and you know he believes your words about as much as you do. He presses his lips together with a shrug, shaking his head. "She had to move on. It took her a minute, but she moved on."

Guilt gathers in the back of your throat, and for a minute you think you might throw up right then and there, disgusted at your own selfishness and possessiveness.

"Of course," you murmur, but Fin hears you and nods.

"You should also know," he adds. "She's a mother now. She has a son."

Flashbacks of Olivia's eyes watering with the sorrow of not being able to become a mother attack you as your head turns to easily find her.

"A son," you repeat, eyes trained on her back, and then a wave of panic hits you, and your wild eyes seek Fin's. "Tucker's not the…"

"No," Fin denies emphatically, and you're able to breathe again. "She adopted Noah before she and Ed...and Tucker started seeing each other."

Ed. Even Fin is now friends with the rat. Probably feels like he owes more loyalty to him by now than he owes to you.

You left. What did you expect? She had to move on. It took her a minute, but she moved on.

A beautiful woman joins the two of you bringing a champagne glass that she gives to Fin and another that she keeps to herself. Fin introduces her as his fiancée, Phoebe.

Everybody's moved on.

A while later, music starts, and the crowd morphs into couples slow dancing. Kathy retrieves your third or fourth empty glass and abandons it somewhere along with hers so that she can throw her arms around your neck and start swaying like you're still the man you were able to be in Rome.

You're glad that she rests her chin on your shoulder — that way, she can't see that your eyes are welded to Olivia as she dances with Tucker. You curse yourself. What did you expect? That she stayed single forever? You should be glad she's moved on. She's also a mother, something she had always wanted so badly.

You should be happy. If you had any decency, you would be happy for her.

Maybe you're thinking too loud, because in that exact moment, Olivia's stare finds yours, and your pairs of eyes fixate on each other. You can read the hurt in hers as though it's spelled out for you.

You should look away. You should leave her alone. Hell, you should grab Kathy by the hand and hop into the first plane back to Rome.

That would be the right thing to do.

But it's not what you do.

What you do is watch every single movement that Olivia makes as she stares back at you from inside Tucker's arms, her cheek flush with his neck, and you're glad you only see the back of his body, of his head, the mostly white hair. You watch every breath Olivia takes, every time her eyelashes bat when she blinks her eyes, and every time her eyelids lift again, her brown irises are still on you.

Maybe she should look away. She doesn't.

At least not instantly. A few beats go by, until she sucks in a breath and pulls back a little, her eyes leaving yours to address Tucker as she excuses herself, turning away from both of you and walking away, fast.

"I'll be right back," you hear yourself saying to Kathy, the right corner of your mouth rising in an apologetic smile.

She doesn't question it, but it's not like you're paying a lot of attention either. All you know is that you take off in the same direction Olivia went. After a while, you're both walking an empty hallway, the music and the crowd left behind.

Olivia doesn't look back, but she walks faster when she senses your presence. You pick up the pace as well, following her as she follows the emergency exit signs.

"Olivia," you hear coming out of your mouth, a commanding tone.

You haven't said her name in so long, but you still remember exactly how it feels inside your mouth, how it tastes against your palate, the sounds gathering to leave your lips. You own every syllable.

"Leave me alone," she says weakly, throwing her body against the fire door leading to the stairs.

"Wait!" you say, reaching the door with your forearm, wedging it open with your foot so you can follow her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Olivia turns to face you once the door is closed, protected in the emptiness of the emergency exit — no one's leaving yet, there are no emergencies besides this one. An emergency ten years in the making. A fire that had been burning inside the walls and now threatens to consume everything. "What possessed you to come here tonight after all this time?"

An indefinite mixture of emotions colors her words and makes her eyes glisten as she waves her arms under the faint, flickering white light provided by a sole fluorescent tube with darkened ends that's supposed to light the way down the stairs in the event of a fire.

Olivia is waiting for an answer. You should be working on one. But you're not.

"Tucker?" The word slips through your lips like a bark. "Really?"

Olivia laughs, but her chin quivers. "You don't know him," she says with her quivering, challenging chin tilted toward your face. "You don't know me, either. Not anymore."

"I'll always know you," you state matter-of-factly; you know she knows that's the truth.

She just shakes her head. "What gives you the right?" she whispers, before raising her voice. "To come here, and question me about my relationship, and look at me like that?"

You take a deep breath, try to get your own emotions under control, even though you can't even precisely tell which they are besides this familiar tingling just underneath your skin, something you haven't felt in years, something you had only ever felt in the presence of one person. This very person.

But oxygen doesn't help. All oxygen does here is feed the fire.

"You think I wanna be looking at you like that?" you raise your own voice, taking dangerous steps towards her on the landing, very aware that she doesn't have a lot of room to escape. "You think I wouldn't rather be looking at my wife?"

Olivia winces, and you can tell that word hurts her. Wife. It's always hurt her, and you're sorry. Maybe you should be even more sorry: if wife hurts her just as much as Tucker is hurting you right now, then maybe you should be very sorry.

She takes a deep breath, shutting her eyes tight for a moment and shaking her head. "You disappeared," she whispers, opening her eyes again. "You were the most important person in my life, and you just...disappeared."

"I'm sorry," you breathe, guilt suddenly knocking the wind out of you. "I didn't mean for things to happen that way."

She shakes her head, a harsh look in her eyes. "You know what, Elliot? I don't give a damn. Just get the fuck out. Get your wife and go back to Italy or wherever it is you came from and leave me the hell alone."

You're blocking the way, so she throws her body into yours, forearms raised toward your chest as a barricade, pushing against you like you're a fire door, her chance to escape. You know that the right thing to do is let her go, take a step back, let her walk back into the building, the party, the life she's built without you.

You know that.

But before you can even process what you should do based on that knowledge, your hands have already wrapped around her defensive forearms, and you're already pushing her against the opposite wall, driving her into the corner beside the fire extinguisher.

"No," you mumble, shaking your head, your nose almost touching hers in the limited distance you've established now. "I'm not gonna do that."

"Elliot," she pleads in a whisper, but her eyes betray her, lowering to your lips, telling you everything her brain will never allow her to admit.

Your mouth crashes onto hers, and while you're not exactly in complete control of your actions, you know you need to get the truth from her lips, and you get the feeling it's not coming out in words.

Taken by surprise, Olivia lets out a moan into your mouth as your lips move over hers, and that only fuels your motions further. Her mouth is soft, her lips unbelievably sweet as you take each of them between yours, taking out your tongue to slide over them, tasting her before you demand entrance.

To be honest, you're expecting her to riot. You're expecting her to push you away, to slap you in the face, to tell you to fuck off — you're not expecting her to grant you entrance, to slide her arms over your shoulders until her hand is cupping the back of your neck and bringing you even closer. When her tongue willingly meets yours, it's your turn to groan as your whole body responds.

"Liv," you whisper when you leave her lips for a second, just because you need to taste her neck, trail open-mouthed kisses toward her shoulder, down her chest. Your teeth demand their pound of flesh when you reach the swell of her breasts, just a nibble, but enough to make her gasp.

Your hands slide down her body, smoothing over her ass and grabbing at her thighs until they're wrapped around your waist. You spin both your bodies around, carrying her two, three steps until you can put her down, making her sit on one of the steps and giving you leverage to run your hands up her hips until your index fingers are hooked around her underwear, pulling them down.

You ask yourself what you're doing. You try to get yourself out of this trance, this madness, but Olivia seems just as consumed by it as she helps you, raising her hips so you can roll down the piece of black lace. The fire alarm goes off in your head, rings in your ears, but Olivia is working on your belt, and in the next second you kneel on the step below the one where she's half-sitting, and you grab her hips and you both jump into the flames.

"El," she breathes your nickname out before your lips meet again, the anger and the hurt gone in this instant, and you realize you're also telling her truths you could never manage to put into words.

But there are some you can.

"I've missed you so much," you whisper as you slide into her. "I've wanted you for so long."

You both moan together for a second as she adjusts to your size, as you move slowly, marveling at every inch conquered inside her depths.

"Twenty years," she says, her eyes opening, and you smile.

"Twenty-three, but who's counting," you correct, seizing her lips again and ceasing all movement for a second, just contemplating the sensation of being surrounded by her. "You feel incredible," you mumble into her mouth before biting down on her lower lip and pulling out of her, only to thrust back in.

Olivia gasps, her hands grabbing at the flesh of your ass, fingertips sinking into the hard muscle while one of your hands slides up and sneaks into the neckline of her dress, scooping up a breast, squeezing it as you realize just how much you've wanted to touch her just like this.

Twenty-three years.

Your movements steadily become more frantic. Olivia grabs at the railing for support, you grab at the step behind her head for leverage while your other hand secures her hip onto yours and you pump into her, release just around the corner. You're panting messes as you struggle for air, but the fire is taking up all the oxygen.

You don't care. You'll happily drown if you have to. You'll let your airways burn for the chance to breathe Olivia in just this once.

Everything's up in flames; nothing will survive this.

But you do. And so does she. As all-consuming as your orgasm is, it doesn't turn you into ash. When Olivia is done crying out into the crook of your neck, she's still sitting there, not a single burn on her skin.

You hold her. You hold her tight, because this might be the last chance to do so before you both need to stand up and look at the plane wreck, at whatever's left after the flames. A few minutes pass as your lungs are once again able to filter in as much air as needed to go on living.

You reluctantly pull away, and so does she. Her pleading eyes ask a million questions. Yours don't have the answers.

You take a deep breath, and so does she. You're both prepared to say something, but you both know it's a question neither of you knows the answer to.

Nothing's ever going to be the same after this accident, after this fire. You both need to evacuate the premises, but one thing's for sure: after this, there's no way you'll be able to put an ocean between the two of you again.

The fire will burn until the last drop of water has evaporated.

Both of your voices come out in unison. "What does this mean?"