A/N: A short mid-Blast one-shot that wouldn't leave me alone. A PWP, with no before, and no after, just enjoy? Review? Love.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.

He isn't surprised she's still here, in fact, he expected her to be. It's one of the reasons he came back in the first place. What surprises him is how beautiful she looks, the light in her eyes as she turns to him.

"Hey," she says, in a voice that's not too soft but not loud enough, either. "Congratulations, I heard you found Carly."

"Yeah," he nods once, bites his lip, and he's only thinking of one other thing he wants to say, to ask her, but he shoes his head and swallows the unforgivable thoughts. "Guy's still out there, though." Fuck, he can't stop staring at her mouth.

"You'll get him," she tells him, hoping she sounds more encouraging than worried. There's a darkness in his eyes that scares her, and the way the veins in his neck throb beneath the collar of his tee-shirt make her feel things she knows she can't control. She scrapes her teeth over her lower lip. "You going home?" She prays he says no, that his days of going home to Kathy are as over as he claims. It would make her feel much less guilty.

He tries to stop looking at her lips, tries to stop wondering if the red chapstick lacing them is flavored or not, tries to pretend he doesn't want more than anything to find out one way or another. "Yeah," he croaks out, and he hates himself for lying to her, but he doesn't think he has a choice. "I gotta get some stuff out of my locker." He points down the hall, in the wrong direction, and hopes she hasn't noticed.

She's noticed. She nods at him, tries to smile, but she knows he isn't going home, and part of her is deeply hurt that he doesn't trust her with the truth. She narrows her eyes as he walks by her. Maybe he doesn't trust himself, she thinks.

"See you in the morning," he turns to look at her and he instantly regrets it. He hears her voice call after him. Goodnight. Good fucking night, bullshit. It won't be a good night. He sulks through the empty squadroom, toward the back doors to the small room filled with uncomfortable beds that make too much noise and smell like week-old grilled cheese sandwiches.

He sighs and runs a hand down his face as he stands in the doorway, making the choice to stay here alone or run after something he's wanted for seven years. Seven. Fucking. Years. With a growl, the choice is made, and he stalks over to a bed against the far wall. Without even taking off his shoes or jacket, he flops into it, folds his hands over his stomach, and stares up at the ceiling.

The case is weighing on him. He's pissed that he had to work without his partner on this one, pissed that the son of a bitch is still loose in the city, and the only thing he wants to do to forget about it all is the one thing that would put the final nail in the driftwood coffin of his marriage.

Here lies Kathy & Elliot, age 20.

So much for playing the martyr.

With a huff and a grunt, he practically flies off of the lumpy bed and runs back through the empty space. He waves absentmindedly to one of the guys on the night-shift whose name he doesn't know, and he speeds down the hall, whipping flyers and notices in his man-made breeze. He doesn't even consciously make the turn, but his body bursts through the metal door and he's taking the stairs three at a time and leaping over banisters, as if getting down them faster will make this less of a risk.

When he pushes open the final door and steps out into the back alley, his lungs burn. He feels his heart beat in every single joint and he can hear it in his ears. He takes a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs, and he feels like he's drowning. "What the fuck am I doing?" he asks himself. And as he runs both of his hands down his face, he grimaces. This isn't happening with a ring on his finger.

As he walks, he twists the gold band off of his thick finger, holds it as though it's some sort of unholy coin, slightly gripped between two fingers. He scoffs, another decision being made tonight, as he flicks the ring over his head. He doesn't care where it lands, but he can tell by the clinging and clanging that it's bouncing its way out of his life.

He checks his watch, shakes his head, and he wonders if she's taken a cab or caught the subway, wonders if he's in a position to catch up to her or not. He feels like an asshole, letting her go home alone tonight, knowing there's a monster out there waiting for her. That's the thought that goads him into another run, his burning lungs now on fire. His sneakers his the pavement with light squeaks, his leather jacket rumples and crinkles as his arms propel him forward faster, and he knocks into someone and doesn't apologize.

"Elliot?"

He freezes. His shoulders rise and fall as he turns, and for a moment, he's convinced that he's passed out and this is some sort of dream. "Liv," he coughs. He waves a hand and pouts as he says, "I was, uh, I was just…" he drops his arm. "What are you doing?"

Again, her lip finds its way between her teeth and she steps up to him. She tugs on the collar of his jacket and says, "I know you." She sighs. "I didn't want...I didn't want to leave you there, alone, so I was going back to drag your ass to my place."

He chuckles, nodding, and his brows raise and lower once. "I was actually…" he scratches the nape of his neck, he's never nervous around her so this is new for him. "I was on my way to your…"

"Okay," she interrupts, and she shoves her hands in her pockets as she walks with him. "It's been, what, a week?"

He closes his eyes. "You knew," he moans, "Fuck, I thought…" he exhales. "I didn't want to put you out, or...I know you're seeing that guy, uh...what's his name?"

"What guy?" she asks, and she honestly doesn't know where he got the idea she was seeing someone. For the past few months, she's been trying desperately to appear incredibly single, especially in front of him. For him. Because of him. "There's no guy."

"What?" he squints. "Kathy said she was talking to you about the divorce and you told her…" he blinks once, it hits him, and suddenly he can breathe again. His hand is shaking, he knows it, but he reaches for hers anyway. Gripping it tightly, he pulls her in the direction of her apartment, and he laughs a bit too loudly as another thought hits him.

She grins, because his laugh is one of her favorite songs, and she asks, "What's so funny, Stabler?"

"Just thinking, uh," he squints and rubs his forehead with the back of his free hand. "I don't think I knew where my last partner even lived. I could get to your place blindfolded with my hands cuffed, and I have a key." He shrugs. "We, uh, we're not really just partners, after all, are we?"

She rubs her lips together and says, "Uh, no," and then she looks down, not only at his ring-free hand, but the fact that she's holding it. "Um, El, what are…"

"Do you know how many times I have had to stop myself from kissing you?" He asks the question before he realizes he's speaking. He pulls her up the front steps of her building and he sees the stunned look on her face. As he digs his copy of her card-key out of his pocket, he chuckles. "God, I lost count, but by now it's up in the thousands, somewhere," he tells her, and he swipes the card through the lock on the panel, pulls the door open when it buzzes, and he yanks her into a dark corner of the lobby.

She can smell the stale coffee on his breath, it mixes with his two-day-old cologne and she has to swallow a moan because to her, that is what sex smells like. "What are you doing?" Her voice is hoarse. Dry. She asks, but she doesn't really want to know. If she makes him think about it, he's going to stop, and he will break her heart. Again.

He smirks at her. "No fucking idea," he whispers, but he brushes his nose against hers. "You were coming back for me," he tells her. "Why?"

She swallows again, hard. She blinks. "I told you, I didn't…"

"The real reason," he interrupts, and he starts to pull her backward toward the stairs, guiding her up to her floor blindly. "Because I know why I ran after you, and it wasn't just because I didn't want to be alone, tonight." He scoffs as he walks her down the hall to her door, and he stops right in front of it. He turns to her, looks her right in the eyes. "If all I wanted was a warm body, I would have gone to…" he stops. He won't say her name. Not now. Not like this.

Olivia watches, silent, as he turns away from her and uses his key to her door, opens it, and guides her into her living room. "So then why were you, um, running after me?" She reaches for the light switch, but his hand slaps over hers.

Their eyes meet.

Outside, lightning strikes, and they both jump at the sound of the thunder crash.

They made it here just in time. Any later and they'd be caught in the storm.

The irony.

He is now holding both of her hands, and he knows that she can feel how sweaty his palms are, how hot his skin is, as he pulls her in the direction of her bedroom. Once they get through her door, he lets her go, shrugs off his jacket, tosses it onto the chair by her vanity. "I think...this all happened now...because God knew, Liv."

She quirks a brow at him as she takes her coat off and lays it gently over his. "God knew what? That you were going insane?" she jokes, but when she turns, her breath escapes her. She's seen him shirtless a million times, but never here. Never in her bedroom.

"God knew that I wasn't gonna fight anymore," he says, and his voice sounds like gravel in a coffee grinder. He tosses his tee onto the chair, and as he moves toward her, he kicks out of his shoes and unbuckles his belt. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that this isn't exactly where you wanted to be, tonight."

She blinks only once and then her eyes do as he commands, fall into his. She lifts her hands and cups his face, swipes under his eyes with her thumbs, and she whispers, "What happened tonight?"

"This isn't about tonight," he whispers, pulling the leather strip through the loops of his jeans. "This is about the last seven years, everything they mean, everything they stand for, everything we have been through…" he places his hands over hers on his cheeks. "Maybe it's about tonight, but only because...if you'd been with me, we would have gotten the bastard. I know it, you know, everyone fucking knows it. I think we have to face...why." He peels her hands away from his face and brings them to the waist of his jeans. He leaves them there, still staring into her eyes, as his own fingers pry her shirt from her skin. "You know why," he whispers.

She nods, biting back the tears, and she works his fly open, pulls the zipper down, and then raises her arms so he can get her shirt off. She prays he can't see her heart bursting out of her chest, or the scars that pepper her skin.

He shimmies out of his jeans, smirking, knowing she can see every blessed inch of him. He's chosen to go commando nowadays, and tonight, there were obviously kismet reasons for it. "If this…" he changes his mind. "This is happening," he tells her.

She nods, her voice uncooperative. She closes her eyes as his fingers graze the straps of her bra, and she feels his lips on her neck as he struggles with the clasp. It's comforting, his inexperience, and she now knows he really has only been with Kathy. She exhales when he gets it, and when it falls to the floor she trembles in his arms.

"Don't," he whispers, and he picks her up and lays her down on the mattress. He looms over her, slowly running his hands and lips over every inch of her skin, he licks every scar, kisses every freckle, and he caresses her legs as he rolls down her black underwear. He looks at her, nude, sprawled on the bed, and it's every fantasy he's ever had come to life. "There's no coming back from this," he speaks into the dark.

Her world shatters. "Um," she tries not to cry. "We don't have to…" she moans as he seals his mouth over hers, presses his body against her, works her into the middle of the bed. "I thought you just…"

He chuckles as he kisses her again. "I was telling you," he breathes, "We do this, that's it. God will forgive one divorce, but if anything happens between us...I'm not sure he'll forgive me a second time," he says, and he knows how ridiculous it sounds, but it's his honest truth.

She moans again, kisses him back with everything she has, and every inch of her skin tingles. "You mean that?" she asks on a warble. "You're not...you're not going back to…"

"Liv," he whispers, looking down at her. He sees her eyes glisten in the slight moonlight peeking in through her window. He knows she's crying. He takes a breath, he knows he's safe now, so he sniffles to let her know she's not the only one who's all in with this, "I love you." He lets out a strangled laugh. "God, I have...I have wanted to say that, let you know...fuck, for years. I just…"

"Say it again," she pleas, and she closes her eyes, feeling him moving, shifting, taking aim at her. She feels his hands scoop behind her knees, feels his thighs wrap her up. "Elliot," she says softer than she's ever spoken before, in her life.

"I love you," he says just as softly, and he kisses her again as he slowly pushes into her, sealing the promise he'd made to her seven years ago, binding it to one he's making her tonight.

The thunder crashes again, light fills the room, and he can see the tears running slowly out of the corners of her eyes. He kisses them away, whispers again, "I love you," and laughs when a tear of his own lands on her cheek.

It's slow, deep, powerful. It's everything. It's more than everything.

She clutches his shoulder blades, rolls her body beneath his to meet every single thrust, and she knows him well enough to believe that this is it.

There won't be any more dates with guys from the bar. There won't be any more midnight phone calls made to her from his lumpy couch. There's only this, them, what has been solidified and finally born into existence. After years of hopelessly falling, it is now that they land.

And the blast isn't nearly as fatal as they'd feared.

"El," she moans, scraping her nails down his back. "Oh. God, Elliot," she cries. "I love you, too."

A/N: Fini