A/N: This was very much intended to be a one-shot, but then the finale happened and well, I needed more of my fake fantasy EO established world. So, here we are. It's possible I'll continue this, but I can't say for sure.

Thank you for reading! Same trigger warnings apply as Ch. 1. Mentions of past assault but not many details.

Reviews are very much appreciated!

It's become routine for Elliot to have dinner with Olivia and Noah once a week. Sometimes more often, but Liv's fiercely protective and prefers her son get to know him in small doses. Elliot can appreciate her need for boundaries. He's a protector too, so he respects her rules.

Tonight they're having pizza, Noah's favorite. It puts everyone in a good mood, but Olivia especially. She's been particularly touchy: her hand resting on Elliot's thigh during dinner, her fingers running up his back while they watch TV. He stays in control, but once Noah goes to sleep all bets are off.

Liv is more comfortable with him now that he's aware of her scars. He's felt them on more than one occasion, though she's yet to share the details of their origin. He knows the facts. Some are from cigarettes, others from keys; a particularly vicious one from a coat hanger. He gives her space, but feeling her body has definitely brought them closer together. She's gotten used to him touching her there—likes it, even.

Still, she won't let him see. Not yet.

"Been waiting all night." She breathes into him, her voice thick with arousal.

"I noticed." He has her pinned against the bedroom door and grins at the sight of her flushed cheeks and dilated pupils.

"Yeah?" She moves them over to the bed, her lips crashing against his while she explores him with her tongue. "Was hoping you would."

"Fuck, Liv." He mutters, wondering how he spent so much of his life without her—without this.

They lay tangled up in one another, though mostly clothed. Their physical relationship continues to move slowly, but they've made progress. Olivia may be wary of Elliot seeing her, but touch is another matter entirely. That, she lets him do—and she's more than happy to return the favor. Their lust for one another is undeniable and just keeps gaining momentum any time they steal a moment alone.

He's kissing her neck and glides his hand under her shirt; careful to be delicate and intentional. His uncharacteristically gentle behavior doesn't go unnoticed and it's become a real turn-on for her.

"El," she moans. "So good."

"Yeah? You like the way I touch you?" He hums into her throat.

"God, yes." She gasps, feeling his fingers dance just below her collarbone. "Let me…" she hesitates. "Show you."

"Hm?" He's too wrapped up in her to comprehend what she's saying.

"Elliot." She sobers, gently pushing him back. Their faces close, but not touching.

"What?" He blinks, "Oh." It finally dawns on him. "Liv, you…want to?"

"Honestly? No. But," she cocks her brow. "I want you. So, sooner or later…" she trails, knowing he's a good enough detective to understand what she's implying.

"I can wait." He assures her. "If you're not ready—"

"Thing is, I'll never be ready." Her gaze drops. "There's no...right time. But I—Elliot, I love you."

"You're sure?" He's careful in the way he says it, not wanting his reluctance to come across as disinterest.

"Yeah." She nods.

Her scars are a part of her, so she tries not to be ashamed of them. She knows each one intimately—what it feels like—where it is on her body. Still, she has moments when she's surprised by her own reflection. Surprised when she's met with the permanent reminder of what she went through. Of what she survived.

"Listen, if you want to stop—"

"I'll tell you." She presses her palm to his chest, effectively cutting him off.

She starts undoing her blouse, her fingers lazily working through the top buttons.

When her skin is exposed, Olivia feels the familiar pit of anxiety in her stomach. It actually catches her off-guard because this isn't the first time she's revealed herself to another person. She's had other relationships; other men. But none of them were Elliot, and that, she thinks, makes all the difference.

Her top is below her shoulders, and she can sense him studying her face. She wonders if there's a reason he hasn't looked down yet. Maybe he's turned off by what he sees and is afraid she'll notice. Or maybe he's just uncomfortable and trying to stall.

"I won't look until you tell me it's okay." He hopes he isn't coming across patronizing, but the tension in her brow signals discomfort, so he'd rather wait for her to give the okay.

"Oh." She exhales, relieved. "It's okay."

Elliot's gaze shifts until he's entirely focused on her bare skin. Her chest tightens; her breath harder to catch. She masks the anxiety, but then feels his lips on her neck. It excited her minutes ago, but now she feels exposed and her pulse quickens. He's tender as he moves lower, lingering near her collar bone before tentatively kissing one of her more prominent scars. She gasps, though she could have expected it.

"Liv." He pauses, searching for her eyes.

"It's okay." She tells him, shaking her head. "I just didn't—it's okay."

"I'll stop."

"No." She's adamant, but it comes from a place of desperation, not desire. She needs so badly for this to feel okay—to feel normal. "Don't stop." She encourages him, moving closer. She continues to lower her shirt and considers taking it off entirely; her bra, too. Just let him see me, she thinks, but her rapid heartbeat keeps her from going any further.

She feels Elliot's breath against her chest again and tries to enjoy it—she really tries—but she can't. He's doing all he can to prove how much he loves her. How some marks on her skin don't change that, but she's completely overwhelmed. Her brain retreats to a dark place and she's suddenly remembering exactly where her scars came from. Soon, it feels like William Lewis is with her. His breath, hot on her neck and his hands on her body.

"El, stop." She's hoarse, her throat dry and constricted as she struggles to find her breath.

He does. The second he hears the word, he stops. He feels heat radiating off of her and takes her face between his palms, smoothing a bead of sweat that formed on her brow. Olivia's eyes are closed and her chest is heaving. He lowers his hands, carefully lifting her blouse back up over her shoulders so she's covered.

"Stay with me." Elliot instructs. He's well-equipped to handle a panic attack and has experienced his fair share over the last few months. With Liv, though, it's different. He loves her—would do anything to soothe her—but also doesn't know the full story behind her pain so he's a bit limited.

Olivia tries in earnest to stay grounded. Whether for his benefit or her own, she isn't sure. She has a rich understanding of her anxiety and can usually identify her triggers and use the tools she's learned to keep her from spiraling. Still, there are times it takes hold of her.

"El." It's all she can manage.

"I'm here." He uses one hand to steady her shoulder, the other to press her cheek. "Right here." His words are reassuring, but they're not enough. "Listen to my voice, okay?"

"Mm." She nods, prying her eyes open and blinking rapidly. He's out-of-focus, but seeing him helps ground her.

"There you are." He brushes the side of her face.

"I'm sorry." She relinquishes control and lets herself fall into his arms, trembling outwardly all the while burning up inside. Being held like this is foreign, but it's what she needs, and she trusts Elliot enough to crave comfort from him.

Vulnerability doesn't come naturally to Olivia. She much prefers to be in control and prides herself on the ability to stay calm even in dire circumstances. It's who she is but also what's expected from her: both personally and professionally. People intuitively trust her, but it's a double-edged sword. On one end, she uses it to her advantage. It helps her coax confessions out of perps and connect with victims. On the other end, though, she's guilty of diminishing her own needs for the sake of others.

"I don't know why this is hap—" she rasps.

"Shh, don't try to talk. Just breathe, nice and slow. I've got you." He holds her tight against his chest, grateful they've reached a point in their relationship where he can do this without hesitation. He feels her heart beating and traces small circles on her back. "Breathe, honey."

"Don't—call me that." She mutters almost incoherently.

"What, no pet names?" He smirks.

"No." She clutches him, still short of breath. "Not your fucking pet."

"Just breathe, will you?" He sighs, kissing the top of her head. "I love you."

He holds her a while longer, giving her time to regain some semblance of control. He knows this isn't easy, just like it wouldn't be for him if their roles were reversed. They're both guarded, but also stubborn and strong-willed. It's something they'll need to work through as their relationship continues.

Elliot's mind wanders despite his best efforts to stay present. Maybe it was his decision to kiss her there that set her off, he thinks. She seemed okay until his lips touched her chest, so maybe he—whoever he was who did this to her—kissed her there, too.

"I love you, too." Olivia interrupts his thoughts when her panic begins to ebb. She pulls away slowly and starts to button her blouse. "That's never happened during…" she gestures vaguely.

"It's okay."

"Is it?" She shrugs.

"PTSD's a bitch, Liv." There's a hint of levity in his tone. "You and I both know that." He reaches for her hand, and she grips his in return. "But you're okay." He smooths her hair. "The worst part's over, and the rest will pass."

"I know." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Real mood killer, though."

"Olivia." Elliot picks up on the guilt laced in her sarcasm. "It's okay." He emphasizes.

"No, it's really fucking not." She snaps, but then closes her eyes to re-center herself. "I'm sorry."

"Can I ask," Elliot treads very cautiously here. "Did he? The way I—"

"No." Her voice is the strongest it's been. "El, no."

"Good." He releases the breath he'd been holding. "That's...good. It just seemed like it set you off. But I didn't—it wasn't intentional."

"Listen," she sighs. "I know we need to talk about it." It's her first time admitting this so it feels heavy. "I just," her eyes scan the bedroom, unable to focus. "I did the work to put this—to put him—behind me. And sometimes I'll get distracted and almost forget it ever happened. Being with you, Elliot," She flushes. "Sometimes I forget. But then, there's this...reminder." She runs her fingers across her chest. "And I hate that it's getting in the way of us because I don't want him," there's venom in her tone. "To have any part in this."

"Liv," he studies her, choosing his words carefully. "If he's still part of you, in any capacity, he's gonna be part of us. It's just—it is what it is." He swallows. "But if you'll talk to me about it. If you can trust me enough to know that I won't run away from this? From you?" He runs his fingers up her forearm. "And I know it's a big ask. But if you can, I promise you we'll work through it."

"It's good of you to say that, but—"

"But, what?" He tries to veil his growing frustration.

"What about sex, El." She states bluntly. "At some point, you'll need it. And what if I..." she casts her eyes toward the ceiling. "What if this happens again."

"Oh." He's taken aback, though she's never been one to dance around an issue. "First of all, you're more to me than sex. I mean, yes. I need it." He clarifies after she rolls her eyes at his first remark. "But I have—Liv, I have ways." He flushes. "And we do...enough." He raises his brow. "I mean, unless you were faking it, I seem to remember being satisfied quite a few times the other night."

"Oh, I don't fake it, Stabler." She nibbles at his bottom lip.

"Didn't think so." He kisses her back. "But, seriously?" He pulls them apart so he can look at her and waits until she meets his gaze. "We'll get there. We'll keep trying." He softens. "And if what happened tonight happens again? We work through it."

"Okay." She thinks that if she weren't so exhausted his words would make her pretty emotional.

"You believe me?"

"Getting there." She answers honestly.

"Good. Because you're beautiful, and very," he kisses her again. "Very, sexy. And We'll have plenty of opportunities for me to prove it to you."