A/N: A new one, perhaps? Darker. Slower. Maybe.

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

March 15th

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Kathy Stabler leaned back against the arm of the well-worn couch, pulled her knees up to her chest, rested one hand on her knee as the other scrolled through her hair. She stared at her husband, watching with worried eyes as he brought the beer bottle to his lips and swallowed it back. It was his third, in less than an hour, unusual for him. "Elliot?" Her silk pajamas crunched against the couch as she waited for his voice to break.

He shook his head with the bottle in his mouth. His blue shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the white tank underneath, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. His tan pants were wrinkled, stained with something that was either blood or ketchup, he couldn't tell, and he didn't want to know. He swallowed his gulp of beer with a sour face.

Kathy sighed, tilting her head and dropping her other hand to fold her fingers together. "Oh, but I bet you talked to Olivia about it." She couldn't hide the disdain in her words, the drag in her voice. "Huh?"

Elliot dropped the empty bottle to the coffee table, not concerned with what magazine it stained, and he nodded. "She's my partner." He cleared his throat and licked his lips, cracked his knuckles, and said, "She saw the same fucking shit, it was already in her head, we need to…" he dragged both hands down the back of his head, then clasped them at his neck and leaned back. He thought about the last few days, two cases wrapped up between a harsh one that got personal. "Talk to each other. No one else needs this bullshit."

Kathy scoffed, picking at a hole in her silk pajama pants. "That's all you do with her when you're not working? Talk?" She furrowed her brow. "Or do you help each other forget, in other…"

"Not this shit again," he spat, wincing. He sat back up, dropped his hands in front of him, and he looked over at Kathy for the first time that night. "This...this is why I don't talk to you, why we can't have a decent fucking conversation."

"This was a conversation?" Kathy sent a tense glance in his direction, her fingers twisting the thin fabric of her pants. "I asked you questions and you grunted and chugged back half a case of Blue Moon. That's not a conversation, Elliot."

He chuckled bitterly as he shot to his feet, grabbed his empty bottle, and on his way into the kitchen, he pointed to her. "Because you brought Liv into it! You always go there!"

Kathy dropped her feet to the carpet, leaned forward, and called after him while he tossed the bottle into the recycling bin. "You always give me a reason to!"

He ran back in, his nostrils flaring. "I fucking do not! You don't trust me, is that it? You're threatened by her, why?" He held up a hand, moved closer to her, and knelt down to look into her eyes. "Don't, okay? Don't give me the reasons, just tell me why you think I'm fucking her! Is that the kind of guy you think I am, after all this goddamned time?"

She rolled her eyes and dropped her head into her hands. "Of course it's not," she breathes, "But you've been distant, shutting me out for months, you're never home…what am I supposed to think?" she tilted her head up. "The kids miss you. Maureen is pissed off at the world as it is, and I'm handling her on my own most days. On top of the other kids, and my job? This is not what I signed up for, Elliot," she tried to touch his face but he flinched and pulled back. She hid the hurt as her hand fell back to her knee. "And now I have to worry about you...finding other ways to get what you're obviously not getting at home."

"Stop it," he spoke through clenched teeth. He stood up and shook his head again, and he let out another despondent sigh. "I'm home more than anyone else at the station, you know that?" He spat out a laugh. "And don't even try to use the kids against me. I have not neglected them, at all! I've gone to every conference and PTA meeting, every concert, school play, ball game…"

"Yes, but you bring Olivia," she hissed at him. "What message does that send people?" She folded her arms and wrapped her fingers around her silk sleeves.

He exhaled and rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Well, I would assume it sends the message that we're coming from work, Kath! Fuck, she's my partner, I'm not gonna drop her off on some corner, or tell her to wait for me in the car while I earn my Father-of-the-Year Merit Badge! Besides, the kids fucking love her!" He dropped his arms again, slumping over, and he cringed as he said, "Ya know, I used to show up with Alphonse, and it was never an issue!"

"I didn't have to worry about you sleeping with Alphonse," Kathy snapped. She folded her arms and rolled her neck. She saw the horrified look on his face and she bit her lip. "I'm not blind, Elliot, and when you tell me there's nothing going on, I believe you, I do...but I can't help feeling like...maybe you haven't realized it, yet. I see the way she looks at you."

"She is my partner," he said again, and he opened his mouth to speak but his cell phone chirped. He coughed once as he pulled it out of his pocket and checked the text message he'd just received. "Great," he breathed, and he moved to the coat rack and pulled off his trench. "Just what I fucking need, right now." He tossed his coat over his shoulder and hurriedly buttoned up his shirt as he slipped his feet back into his still-tied shoes.

"You got called in?" Kathy huffed, and then she took three steps closer to him. "I thought there were six other detectives in your unit, why did they call you?"

He stared down at his phone as he answered the text, and he said, "Obviously because they needed more than six people, tonight, Kathy." He nodded derisively at her with a flat smile as he pocketed his phone and shoved his arms through the sleeves of his coat. "Takes a genius," he mumbled, slapping his cheeks to sober himself up.

Kathy got off the couch and walked toward him, her arms still crossed. "Don't they realize you need a break? God, you've only been home for three hours, you're clearly still thinking about whatever your last case was, or are you just that eager to get back to your precious partner? They call her in, too? You're like a set of bookends, or salt and pepper shakers, can't have one without the other, can you?"

He turned to look at her, his eyes dark and fierce, and he pulled on the collar of his coat as he yelled, "Christ, Kathy, I don't know when this fucking became too damn hard!"

"Then quit! Or at least cut your hours," Kathy told him. She held out an arm, reaching for him, and she said, "I've been asking you to…"

"Not my job," he interrupted, his eyes closed. He took a deep breath and looked at her firmly. "Being married to you." He shook his head as he grabbed the doorknob. "It used to be so damn easy." He squinted. "What happened to us?"

Kathy couldn't answer him. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself as she watched him open the door. "Be careful," she said sadly. "Come home in one piece."

He raised an eyebrow. He licked his lips as he choked out a harsh breath. "Yeah," he nodded, "If I'm not home before they get up…"

"I will tell them you love them," she tried to smile.

He didn't even attempt to smile back as he walked out onto his porch, closed the door behind him, and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. He ran down his steps toward his driveway, pulling his keys and his phone out of his pocket. He dialed a number and caught the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he unlocked his truck and got behind the wheel. "Yeah, it's me, we...right, do you want me to come...I'm sorry, you're where?"

He peeled out of his driveway too fast, his tires screeching, as he listened to his partner tell him something that made his blood boil. "With who?" he spat, and he rolled his eyes as he turned the wheel and sped off down his street. "Whom, who, whatever, it's almost one in the fucking morning. Why won't you tell me who you...well, why don't I know him?" He heard her comment, chuckled, and said, "In that case, I guess I can forgive you, but don't think I'm letting you go out with him again. Why? Because I need to approve of...that's exactly the fucking point," he laughed, and hearing her laugh with him made him sigh. "Yeah, I'll meet you there. Bye, Liv." He tossed his phone onto the seat next to him, then gripped the wheel hard with both hands.

Silence filled the car as he tried to find a reason for his spiked jealousy, a reason for his consumption with where she was and who she was with, a goddamned reason for his annoyance at Kathy's accusations. "Shit," he wheezed, turning the wheel to head for the bridge. It wasn't the first time he'd been jealous, he knew it. He'd hated every one of Olivia's ex-boyfriends, threatened them, staked his claim on her on ways he knew weren't right, but he couldn't help it. He owed it to her, after all. He had to protect her whenever he could to make up for the one time he couldn't. Didn't. It had been two weeks since the incident, and the longer he waited for Olivia to bring it up, the more guilt he felt for not being there in the first place. Maybe his subconscious was trying to tell him why it mattered so much, why he felt responsible.

He turned and stepped on the gas. In his half-drunken haze, it wasn't so subconscious anymore. "Damn it," he smacked the steering wheel again and swerved fast, avoiding someone trying to veer into his lane, and he shook his head quickly. Distracting thoughts filled his not-yet-fully-sober mind until his phone rang again. "Fuck," he kept his eyes on the road as he shot out a hand and blindly answered the phone, tapped the speaker button, and spat, "Stabler."

"Just asking, who's getting the coffee?"

He smirked at the sound of her voice and slapped his blinker, turning off the ramp. "I got it," he said, and he headed for the nearest drive-thru. He pulled up to the speaker and ordered two large, strong, coffees, preparing himself to head into another horrendous situation with his partner.

"Get donuts," she said loudly. "My date ended before I could order dessert."

"Thank God for small favors," he quipped, and then he shouted at the speaker, ordering two chocolate fudge donuts, one with sprinkles.

"Am I five years old?"

He laughed loudly, and as he rolled up to the window to pay, he said, "No, but you know damn well, you fucking love the sprinkles."

"No, you love picking at the ones that fall onto my shirt," she chided.

"Guilty as charged, Detective Benson," he chortled again, and he handed the kid at the window a twenty-dollar bill, took the paper bag and cup carrier, and he said, "All right, I'll see ya in ten." He heard the beep, telling him she'd hung up, and he sighed, his mood shifting again. When the realization hit him again, he slapped his palm against the wheel. "God fucking damn it," he groaned.

He hated having to admit when his wife was right.

He took a long gulp of his coffee as he turned the wheel again, his mind racing. He licked his lips and sighed, shaking his head.

When he pulled into the parking lot of the Sixteenth Precinct, he was fully conscious, fully aware. He grinned when he saw her leaning up against the red sedan that over the past year had become theirs. He parked, turned off the car, but didn't move to get out of his truck. He was staring at her, her short hair was slicked back, she was wearing more makeup than usual, and he could tell she'd been wearing a skirt but had changed into a pair of boot-cut slacks. Her heels gave it away. "Jesus," he cursed at himself for reacting to her that way, now that it was noticeable, and he took a deep breath before grabbing the coffee and donuts and getting out of the car.

She smiled broadly when he stepped up to her and she gratefully took her coffee out of the carrier. "My hero," she said just before she sipped. She rolled her eyes as she savored the mouthful, nodding.

"Good?" he said, his mouth suddenly dry. The face she'd made sparked something in him. He cleared his throat and shook open the white paper bag, reached in, and grabbed her donut. He held it in front of her with a mischievous grin on his face. "Admit it, you love me," he teased, shaking the donut.

She moved the coffee away from her mouth, looked him in the eyes, and said, "Never said I didn't." She held his gaze as she bit into the donut, letting him hold it for her as she chewed. When she licked her lips, she chuckled, seeing something dark flash in his eyes, and she took the donut from him. "You get the address?" she asked, gripping her cup and donut in one hand as she opened the car door with the other. She didn't see him moving to open it for her.

He rushed around to the driver's side and got in, and once he sat down, he dropped his coffee into his cup holder, dug his donut out of the bag, and bit it between his teeth as he crumpled the bag and tossed it over his shoulder into the backseat. He noticed the glare she was giving him and he laughed as he ripped the donut back and chewed the bite left in his mouth. "I'll get it later, Missus Clean," he said with a mouthful.

She was about to say something else when she noticed his hand reaching for her. She raised an eyebrow and gave him a crooked smile, waiting, knowing exactly where his hand was heading.

He picked three strewn sprinkles off of her shirt, then shot her a look. One he knew she understood. When she opened her mouth, he fed her two of the sprinkles, then chuckled as he popped the third into his own mouth before taking another bite of his donut. He started the car and backed out of the spot, but before they made it onto the road, he asked, "How'd your date go?"

Her loud scoff and annoyed eye-roll were enough of an answer, and she bit into her donut again, then held it up a bit higher. "Thanks," she said, and she sipped her coffee before saying, "I couldn't…" she sighed. "I couldn't get those kids out of my head. Made for a pretty silent dinner, and an awkward…"

"Had to have been pretty good, for you to still be out after midnight," he interrupted. He turned out onto the main road and shoved the rest of his donut into his mouth.

She bit her lip. "No, uh, he picked me up at midnight, actually, after his shift. We went to Minardi's, it was less than an hour of my life that I'll never get back," she shook her head and sipped her coffee. "Anyway, it really wasn't the best first date so, no surprise, there won't be a second one." She brought her cup to her lips again, but stopped and smiled. "Have I told you...I love that you know exactly how I like my coffee?"

"Same way I like mine," he said with a firm nod. He shot a look over at her, grinning, and when he turned the wheel again, suddenly what they were heading into didn't seem so horrible anymore.

Little did they know.

A/N: This will take a darker ride than my usual. Next chapter is a doozy...