A/N: Your life is a reflection of how effectively you balance potential and kinetic energy.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the show or the characters, but, oh, how I wish I did.

March 28th 5:00 PM

"I never thought I'd have to hear his arrogant mouth spew that machismo bullshit again," Olivia complained through her gritted teeth. She tugged on the hem of her shirt, noticing it looked more brown than green in the dim squadroom lights. With another grunting sigh, she kicked at her chair and then crossed her arms. Polikoff's words echoed, Elliot's whipped rebuttals replayed in her mind. She wondered how two men with similar upbringing, around the same age, could be so vastly different when it came to morals, values, and attitudes toward women. Polikoff had spewed venomous diatribes about how women had ruined his life, while Elliot had throatily suggested he just hadn't found the right woman yet, that someone out there would make life worth living. Her heart thumped once, remembering how his eyes had found hers through the glass as he said it all. "Alibi checks," she added then, sounding disappointed about that fact.

"Well, we figured it would," Elliot sighed, digging his hands into his pockets. "Polikoff thinks his whole life was destroyed because of Myra, you heard him in there. He wants her to suffer but not…shit, not like this." He leaned back against the side of his desk, kicked one foot over the other, and chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "We can relax for a while, now, though. I got a couple pals tracking down Heinzberg. O'Halloran said the pillow fibers from the apartment matched the ones on the vic, and her DNA is all over the sheets, so he's probably the…" he squinted and shifted closer to her. "I know that look, and I fucking hate it, what's wrong?"

Her hands shot up to her forehead and she rubbed her temples as she shook her head fast. "Nothing," she spat, her lips turning downward. "What pals?" she asked sharply, snapping her head back up. "Why aren't we out there looking for the bastard ourselves?"

"Don't lie to me." His voice was low, dark, dripping with concern and a slight dominance he now knew she craved from him. There were moments she needed him to be in control because she couldn't be, and this was one of them. "What the hell happened in there? Something he said?" he wrapped his hands around hers and pulled them down, holding them tightly. "You're trying not to panic, I see it in your eyes." He looked over his shoulder, only to make sure no one else was around, and he leaned closer to her. Letting go of one of her hands, he ran the pad of his thumb along the side of the other and glanced down at her again as he whispered, "Breathe."

"I'm breathing," she cracked, then she sighed and closed her eyes. "It wasn't anything he said or did, I just…" she cringed and licked her lips, involuntarily squeezing his hand once before letting it go. Her shirt crinkled as she wrapped her arms over herself again, and she inhaled slowly, deeply. "While you were talking to him, I was in the pit…I looked over at the calendar…" she shook her head and let her arms drop, her hands slipped into the pockets of her black pants. "And now I can't get the image of that son of a bitch holding a gun to your head out of my mind, the look on your face, in your eyes, hearing every word you said, that he said, over and over again, it fucking sucks." Dropping her arms, she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "i can still smell the damn warehouse. I can't stop thinking…if I said the wrong thing…if I took the shot…"

Grabbing her hand again, he tried to fight off the watering of his eyes and burning of his nose. He knew this was going to happen, but he wasn't prepared at all. Suddenly, his tie was too tight and his grey shirt too constricting. "No," he whispered as he pulled on the cotton and silk with his free hand. "We got out of there," both of his palms flew to the back of her neck and he straightened up slightly. Holding her gaze, he tilted his head. "You and me, we got through it, I'm right here." He tried to smile. "You're with me, and we are going to…"

"Stabler," Cragen's voice stopped whatever promise he was about to make, then the stomping of his feet demanded full attention. "Carter from the Three-Nine found your guy. He's on his way down here." He noticed how suddenly they'd moved, how still and stiff they now were, and it became clear that he'd interrupted more than just a chat about lab results. As he eyed Olivia for a moment, he cleared his throat and he scuttled closer to Elliot. "She okay?"

Nodding, Elliot folded his arms. "Look, what happened this morning…"

"Novak pushed your buttons," Cragen interrupted, holding up a hand. "I called McCoy, I talked to Donnelly…" he narrowed his eyes, realizing the dawn-breaking conversation with Casey wasn't what he was trying to talk about. "Oh, you mean when Myra Denning showed up and tried to apologize to you again?" He chuckled, remembering the horrified look on Elliot's face as he pushed away from Mrya's attempt at a hug. "Or when you and Tucker were fighting about whether or not you had an Uncle Cormac?" He grinned and sniffled once, then his face fell completely. "Or when you took a call from Kathy in my office so your partner wouldn't hear you?"

"Yeah," Elliot shrugged. "That." One finger shifted and bent as he scratched the ditch of his elbow. "I'm not hiding anything from Liv, but she's been having these horrible panic attacks, I didn't want to give her a reason." He closed his eyes. "On top of the one she already has." He saw Victor Gitano's grinning face behind his closed lids, his beady eyes peeking out from under a tattered baseball cap, as if the man had known all along that he was going to leave his mark, one way or another. "Shit," he seethed, opening his eyes. "Besides, uh, Liv and I already talked about everything, I just needed to tell Kathy before my kids did."

Nodding, Cragen glanced over at Olivia again, watching her answer the phone and start scribbling down notes. His lips curled slightly, seeing so much promise in the young woman, so much light in her eyes despite the darkness of the job. "So what you said to Kathy…" he raised an eyebrow and his smile faded as he looked back toward Elliot. "You were serious?" As Elliot slowly nodded, his heart sank. "Wow, okay. This is more…complicated than I thought. You know the risks you're taking, going this far this fast?"

"As opposed to how slowly we've been moving for the last ten years?" Elliot spat back at the man, sarcasm and disdain lacing his words. He shook his head, dropped his sweaty palms to his knees, and scrubbed them over his pants to dry them slightly. "It's not gonna get in the way of the job, we swore to you and to each other…two years ago…that would never happen again." He blinked once. "I mean, we'll have to take some time off, ya know…when…when she, uh..."

"If…" Cragen interjected pointedly. "I already told you, I'm staying out of it, unless I have no choice but to step in, but you and I both know this is just more hypothetical nonsense." He scoffed as he lowered his gaze and then pointed at Elliot. "Another thing, if I find out anything is going on with you and Novak, if I ever hear that you're doing anything to hurt Olivia, it'll be very hard for Warner to ID your body."

"Have we met?" Elliot defended, tilting his head. When he stood up straight again, he seemed taller, broader, his chest inflated and his temper clearly risen. "I know you feel obligated to threaten me the way a father would, but for fuck's sake, you really shouldn't have fucking just said that to me, Cap." He felt his palms shake and his fingers twitch. "You don't fucking know the half of it."

Cragen's eyes darkened and although he tried to appear more intimidating, he failed. "Enlighten me, then," he prodded, an effort to see how far Elliot would be willing to go, what he'd say to defend himself now. Something to his right squeaked and clicked, earning a sharp turn of his head.

Olivia hung up the phone and looked up, noticing the way the two men were staring at each other, both silently threatening and daring. "Am I missing something?" She glanced from Cragen to Elliot and back again. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Elliot fumed, then moved around to the back of her desk as Cragen scoffed and headed back into his office to answer his ringing phone. He pulled open a side drawer, grabbing a small white bottle from it. "These work?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I guess, I've only taken one, but it...helped, I think," she exhaled and laughed at herself. "Until I realized what fucking day it is, but I'm calmer than I would have been if...before…without them," she tossed a hand in the air. "Why?"

Wordlessly, he pried off the cap and shook one of the pills into his hand. After nodding in confirmation, he tossed it into his mouth like a piece of popcorn and grimaced as he chewed and ground it. "My goddamned nerves are shot," he hissed. He closed the bottle and then lifted her wrist and slapped the pills into her open palm. "Take one," he whispered, "Now." He ignored the furrow of her brow and purse of her lips. "Please," he closed his eyes and slumped his shoulders.

Seeing the worry and pain on his face, she backed herself toward the table near the stairs to get a bottle of water, unable to just chew and swallow the way he had, and as she shook one of the pills George had given her out of the plastic tube and into her cold hand, she prayed the night would go faster. This was the last place she wanted to be, on this particular day. Popping the small white pill into her mouth, she cringed. It dawned on her just how much of the bullshit in her life she'd suppressed or ignored because she had to, because dealing with it all wasn't on her list of priorities. Whatever had happened in the basement with Lowell Harris had been the last straw, the one that sucked up every painful memory and traumatic moment, wrapping them together like a rubber-band-ball of tension and anxiety. Swallowing down half of the bottle of water, she shook her head and then turned to look over her shoulder at Elliot. Everything she had been, had become, in the last ten years was for him, because of him. The smile grew on her face without prompting, and she headed back over to her desk, resigning herself to focus on here, now, him. "You, uh, you never told me why you want to go Shotzie's tomorrow. What tattoo are you…"

"Hey, you two," Cragen stormed out of his office and over to them again, his eyes narrow, his face pale. "Look, uh, you can...go home." He stopped Elliot just as his mouth opened, silencing him before he could speak. "Guys were trying to get Heinzberg into the car, he confessed to killing his fiancée, right before he grabbed an officer's gun and aimed it at Detective Carter."

"The fuck?" Elliot hissed, squinting his eyes. He ignored Cragen's warning glare. "What happened? Is Kevin okay? Shit, I asked him to do me a fucking favor, if he got shot…"

Cragen gestured for Elliot to relax, blinked once, and thought better of scolding him for his language right now. "Carter fired first. Bastard's dead, so it's not our case anymore," he sighed and rubbed his eyes, knowing it could have turned out so differently, that maybe his own detectives would have needed to pull the trigger to save themselves or each other. "Polikoff is heading out, and Novak's trying to get Myra out of here without them running into each other, I'd rather her not see you, either." He pointed at the door. "I want you two gone before all hell breaks loose, you've been here too damn long, anyway."

"Ain't that the damn truth," Olivia spat, shaking her head. She stifled a yawn, mentally cursed her intense need for the caffeine she couldn't have, and then nodded once at Cragen. "You sure you don't need us?"

Cragen jutted a thumb over his shoulder. "I got Fin and Munch here, dealing with Catillo, and Jack's coming up in about an hour to talk about how to handle this shit with Novak." He shook his head again and looked directly at Elliot. "She's put you through a lot, I'm not just gonna let it slide. She made this entire department look bad, could have cost you more than just your badge, and frankly, I'm sick of her attitude." He pointed at Elliot, feeling the fabric of his suit jacket rustle as he moved. "You remember what I said," he warned. "Get out of here, get some sleep."

Elliot nodded and licked his lips, then threw a hand behind him to grab Olivia's wrist. "Thank God," he spat fast, and he dragged Olivia out of the room, barely giving her time to grab their jackets. Once they were out in the hall, he stopped short, glancing around fast. He thought about taking the elevator, needing to get down and out as quickly as possible, but the chances of Olivia panicking were already way too high for his liking, he was not about to remind her of another awful moment. "Stairs," he decided out loud, and he gave her a yank as he pushed through the metal door to his left.

"Hey," she yanked back, then, suddenly aware of his movements, his intensity, and she forced him to turn around and look at her when she pulled on his arm a second time. "What's wrong with you?"

He shook his head and scoffed. "Surely, you can fucking tell, can't you?" He dragged a hand down his face, hoping she couldn't see that it was shaking. Taking two steps to his left, hearing the footfalls reverberate around him, he sighed and then fell back against the cement wall behind him. With another exhalation, he pulled her into him. "Fuck, Liv, Cragen...doesn't get it. He just doesn't fucking get it."

She offered a small smile and reach a hand up to cup one side of his face. "He doesn't have to," she shrugged. "In fact, uh, I think it's better if he doesn't really know anything more than he does."

"He thinks I'm gonna hurt you," he whispered, bending his head forward. "That I'm gonna go back to Kathy or let Novak do whatever the fuck she's been trying to do to me," he said with a chuckle, then brushed his nose against hers. "Do you remember...what I said to you, that night...after, uh, after Gitano…"

"I've spent the last two years trying to forget," she interrupted, but she slumped forward into his arms. "But, yeah, I remember." Closing her eyes, she sighed, and when she felt his hands slip down her back and his lips graze her forehead, she moaned softly. "Every single word."

Kissing the top of her head, he let his hands drop to her ass and squeezed once. "The thought of losing you..shit...terrified me, even then. I talked myself out of taking the chance that we both fucking needed to take that night, because I thought it would have fucked everything up, that you'd run." He kissed her lips softly.

"I ran anyway," she said softly, regret hanging on her tongue.

He kissed her again and whispered that he knew why, that he understood. "It's just as true now, ya know? You and this job…" his hands traveled around to the front of her body as he let out a low, slow, groaning sigh. "The kids at home, the ones we're gonna have together…" he lifted his head and looked into her eyes. "You're all I've got, all I need. Everything." Shaking his head again, he lowered his voice and looked even deeper into her eyes, a more firm expression on his face. "I'm not gonna let anything wreck that, I'm not gonna fuck this up, I promise."

With tears in her eyes, she tilted forward and kissed him, slowly dragging her tongue over his the moment he opened his mouth to her. "I know," she whispered, and without another word, she clutched both of his hands in hers and pulled him toward the steps.

Exhaling, he followed her and gave her hand a squeeze. "I took chicken out of the freezer before we left, ya know, I had a feeling we'd make it home in time for dinner. I'll start working on it as soon as we get…" he laughed, watching her head turn to look at him as she angled her brows and twisted her lips. "What?"

"So fucking weird," she mumbled, stepping down the last two steps. As she pushed open the door to the alley, she said, "I'm not used to having actual food in the fridge, to begin with, and I'm certainly not used to cooking. Especially with you."

"You'll have plenty of time to get used to it," he said with wagging brows and a wicked smirk. "The next ninety years, or so." He wrapped his fingers around hers, tangled and twisted them, and tugged her down the small walkway, around the building, and toward the parking lot. "Ya know, I don't think we actually saw the damn sun at all today. We got here before it came up, and we're leaving just as it's setting." He let out a short guffaw and then pulled her in front of him, wrapped his arms around her, and they plodded toward their car as he held her tightly. "Look at that," he whispered, his eyes focused on the red and purple sky, catching the last moments of the sunset.

"Who are you?" she laughed, letting her head fall back against him. As she watched the golden sun sink behind the brick building in front of her, she said, "Stargazing, watching the sunset, snapping at your boss because he thinks you weren't gonna tell me what you told Kathy…" she flattened her lips and looked at him.

"Heard that, huh?" he intoned, then pulled himself away from her to open the passenger side door of the car for her. "When he said he didn't trust me with you…" he huffed and blew out hard through his nose. "My blood pressure spiked. That's the one thing no one should ever doubt, the one damn thing no one should ever fucking think." He looked at her and drove his tongue over his teeth, watching the purples and blues of the sky dance and flicker over her form. He remembered what her hair looked like when it was longer, darker, and he grinned as he recalled how she'd always asked him before she cut or dyed it, as if he needed to approve. Reaching out a hand, he toyed with a few waves and tugged lightly on the short amber locks. "You're the one person no one should ever accuse me of hurting or lying to or using…and to hear it from Cragen? Felt like my father berating me all over again, that same disappointment, same damn disgust."

"Well, to him…" she closed her eyes. "To everyone else, this seems fast…sudden. You're not even divorced…" her eyes opened then, her face fell. "We should just…"

His lips were on hers before she could finish speaking. His hands filtered through her hair, his body pressed hers against the maroon car. For a moment, they were lost, forgetting everything except each other. "I love you," he told her, and he tried to work himself closer to her, pinning her between his broad chest and the metal of the car. "So fucking much."

"I love you, too," she returned, brushing her nose lightly against his, then she backed herself into her seat and let herself relax. As the door closed, she inhaled, and when the driver's side door opened, she exhaled. "I don't want today to be what it is," she said suddenly, her eyes unfocused, her head on an awkward angle. "Not...not anymore."

Elliot gnawed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. "Okay," he said, as if making a firm decision. He shifted the car into reverse and peeled out of his space, knocked it into drive fast, and sped off in the direction of their apartment. As he turned the wheel, he grinned and looked over at Olivia. "Like I said, when we get home, we'll make dinner, watch a movie, and when the kids wander off into their rooms, I promise," he took a breath as he turned the wheel again, his grin growing and softening. "March Twenty-Eighth will become your favorite fucking day of the year."

She laughed at the way he winked at her, then relaxed into her seat. She didn't know why, but she believed him. Furrowing her brow, then, she remembered a text message she'd received hours ago, one she had only half-read and never answered, and as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and read it, she stiffened.

She had every reason to believe him, because what she just read had convinced her that he was telling the absolute truth.

A/N: What did that text say? And a night at home, with the kids...and without them. Next?