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 31st, 11:00 AM

Olivia couldn't help but fidget; her knee bopped as her feet bounced rapidly with her lip caught between her teeth. She looked around the lavish office, feeling more like a kid in the principal's office than a fellow officer needing information. The walls were lined with awards and commendations, the molding was a dark, rich color that screamed authority, and the desk in front of her was foreboding and overwhelming.

It wasn't a regular occurrence for her to be in the luxe office of an FBI agent, and the few times she had the pleasure, things ended badly. Being in the room brought up a lot of bad memories, a slew of moments she'd rather forget. The smell of the varnish on the furniture made her think of Dean Fucking Porter and a case that almost cost her everything. "Who the hell do you know, here, that could possibly help us out?" she asked, looking up at Elliot.

"The same guy you do," he said, dropping into the cushioned seat beside her. "Just moved up a few floors." He smiled at her, brushed her hair back, then pulled on the collar of his white shirt. "Breathe," he whispered tenderly. "Listen, Cragen's got a chip on his shoulder, and Tucker thinks I'm calling hits for the Irish mob, so we came to the only person who could give us answers so we aren't working this case completely blind." He leaned into her and said, "Because we are working this fucking case." With a wink, he kissed her lips quickly and then backed up a bit. "You okay?"

She squinted as she nodded and brushed his hand off of her shoulder. Her fingers ran up his arm, feeling his muscles twitch under her touch. It amazed her how she'd known him so long, been by his side every day and night for years, and could still affect him so strongly with the gentlest touch. As she smiled softly, she realized what it meant, what it signified, and her hand fell from his shoulder to the chain around her neck. Her fingers slid under the cold metal, and the feeling gave her goosebumps. "What makes you so sure…"

"Trust me," he cut her off, his eyes focused on the way her thumb and forefinger twirled the medallion around, and he licked his lips, imagining the life he'd planned for them playing out, the vows held in that gold pendant coming to life. "If anyone knows what the fuck this is all about, it's him, and he owes us more than a few favors, so he'll spill it."

As soon as the words left Elliot's mouth, the office door opened. A man in a dark green suit walked into the room, tugging on his yellow tie, and he raised an eyebrow at the two detectives. "When Maggie told me who was waiting for me in my office, I assumed the worst, but please tell me you just stopped by for coffee and cheesecake?"

"Cheesecake?" Olivia returned his raised brow but gave him a smirk. "Uh, no. No. Assuming the worst was smart." She stood up and held out a hand. "Good to see you, Tom."

Tom Nickerson, Special Agent with the FBI, shook her hand and sighed. "Damn, I wish it was a social call, Benson." He glanced over when he noticed Elliot's sneer. "Goes for you, too, Stabler, don't get your pants in a knot." He crossed his arms and leaned back against his desk, one brown shoe crossed over the other, and he flipped over both palms. "What do you need?"

Elliot relaxed his stern brow and loosened his jaw. "Al Antonaci," he said flatly. "His daughter and two other seemingly innocent girls are laying in our icebox, and I think you know who put 'em there. It's our case. El Jefé benched us, and I'd like to know why."

Nickerson blinked once. "Okay," he exhaled, his nostrils flared, and he slapped his hands down onto his green cotton-covered thighs. "I know I owe you, the two of you stuck your necks out for me, pulled me up from cop to agent, but this is…" he saw the way Olivia was looking at him; something he'd never seen in anyone's eyes before was now shining in hers. "Damn it," he gruffed out.

Elliot watched carefully as Tom moved around to the back of his desk, opened a top drawer, and pulled out a thick file.

"This is why Cragen wants the two of you far, the fuck, away from this case and this lunatic." Tom handed the file to Olivia and then looked at Elliot. "WitPro isn't just for protecting witnesses anymore, apparently. Some less honorable agents stick people in WitSec so they can cover up their own crimes, then blackmail the sorry sons of bitches into cleaning up the rest of their messes."

"Shit," Olivia scoffed, slapping the file into Elliot's chest. "This doesn't have anything to do with Masucci." She nodded once, biting her lip, telling him to open the folder. "Ya know, I knew he was out of his mind, but this is…"

"This can't be right," Elliot interrupted as he flipped the pages up and scanned the file. "The man has a violent streak, it's gotten him into trouble, but would he really go to these lengths to…"

"Cover his tracks and take out anyone who could keep him from getting a promotion," Nickerson said with a nod. "We think that's exactly what he's doing, and Cragen doesn't want the two of you on this case so that you don't become…"

"His next targets," Olivia spat harshly, rubbing her forehead with one hand while the other rested on her hip. "That son of a bitch is using one of his charges to take out anyone who could possibly exploit his brutality and wreck his shot at the director's chair."

"But…" Elliot closed the file and turned to look at her. "He wouldn't hurt you. He would never hurt you. That's the one thing he and I have in common." He tried to smile, but the loathing behind it was evident. Suddenly his eyes widened, and he flipped open the folder again, reading fast and furiously. "Shit, no, it's not. Like me, he would never hurt you, but he'd kill anyone who did." He slapped the folder down onto Nickerson's desk and pointed to it. "Son of a bitch was Scalisi's handler! He ordered the hit on Harris and his cronies." He jabbed his hand at the file again. "The whole fucking…the last fucking month has been…"

"I'm guessing you're also this apoplectic because you figured out that he's involved in that trafficking ring," Nickerson spoke, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Not running it, but taking kickbacks in return for not stopping it when he could have. The two girls who turned up dead? They were there during the sting, listened to the deal go down, watched that asshole let the runner go." He shot Olivia a slightly less abrasive look. "There was a lot of chatter; they threatened to rat him out, hoping it would buy their freedom. They were a liability, and he had to take them out before they took him down."

"Listen, I know you, and I know what you're thinking," Elliot said, leaning toward Olivia. He gripped one of her shoulders. His other hand slipped up her back as he slowly shook his head. "Not gonna happen. Not today." Before he could speak again, his phone rang. Rolling his eyes, he let Olivia fall away from him and dug his cell phone out of his pocket. With a small smile, he looked down at the bright white name on the screen before he answered. "Hey, Mo," he said with a lilt. "Oh," his voice fell slightly. "Yeah, I talked to her. I told her not to bother you guys, that I would ask if…well, honey, if you don't want to go, you don't have…" his eyes flicked upward and he stared at Olivia. The blues in his eyes got a full shade darker and his lips curled into an almost salacious grin. "That's very sweet of you guys. Thank you. If any of you get irritated enough to bail, just come home, it's…" he laughed and sighed, still looking at Olivia. "We love you, too, sweetheart. Bye."

Waiting expectantly, she looked at him and tilted her head. "She just told you the kids are going to dinner with Kathy," she supposed, raising an inquisitive brow.

"Not just dinner," he said as he shoved his phone into his pocket. "They're going to her hotel after school, wandering around Fifth Avenue, going to Maxine's for an early dinner, then going to see some musical about a band I've never heard of, because…" he blinked and let out a chuckle. "Not because they want to spend that kind of time with her, but because…they want us to spend some time together, alone, and these are her exact words, work on the next set of Stabler twins."

With a disbelieving scoff and wide eyes, she said, "One at a time, thanks." She laughed and folded her arms. "They're really doing this to give us the night to ourselves?" She watched him nod and dropped her hands to her sides. It struck a chord within her, knowing his kids not only loved and accepted her relationship with their father, but were willing participants in his ploy to give her the child she so desperately wanted, a sibling they wanted and already loved before its conception.

Her eyes glazed over, then, and she smiled, wondering how often Elliot had talked about her, what he'd said to his kids to make them so understanding, so invested. "You, uh," she cleared her throat and swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of it. "You got a great bunch of kids. You did one hell of a job raising them."

"I had help," he winked, and then he leaned over and whispered, "And I don't mean Kathy," before kissing her cheek quickly and quietly. He rubbed his forehead, then, and furrowed his brow. "What, uh…what were we…"

"You were about to give me a reason not to call Andy and lure him out of his cave," she said dryly. "Make it a good one."

He flattened his smile and said, "I can give you two." Holding up one finger, he said, "Right now, we don't know if he'd take the bait because he's still got feelings for you or if he wants to add us to his list of tied up loose ends. He knows we both saw him get way too rough with suspects, one of whom was completely innocent." A second finger popped up and he wiggled them fast. "I'm not in the mood to deal with Cragen giving us shit for disobeying a direct order. Not when we just found out we have a pretty fucking perfect night to look forward to, and I don't want him making us pull overtime or do a month's worth of paperwork when the kids are sacrificing themselves for us."

Tom snickered, hearing them talk. "Uh, hi, still in the room," he waved sarcastically and gave them a smarmy smile. "You two can't do shit anyway. It's not in your hands." With narrowing eyes, he licked his lips. "And I'm assuming, from that nice little bit of banter, that you finally got your heads out of your asses and hooked up?"

"Hooked up?" Elliot made an unamused face. "No, we aren't hooking up, God, you sound like my fifteen-year-old son." He rubbed his forehead and scoffed. "We just…realized how much better life would be if we actually started living it." The way he felt himself grin when he said it caught him by surprise. Their lives had taken a turn and shifted but he never once regretted the choice, and for the first time in his thirty-seven years, he was happy, fulfilled, and not dreading the days ahead of him. As his focus returned to Nickerson, he gritted his teeth. "I wasn't finished, by the way." The vein in his neck popped slightly. "Like I said, we aren't stepping into the weeds tonight, we have plans." One brow twitched as his nostrils flared. "But tomorrow is another story."

A/N: A night to themselves, before all hell breaks loose. Next?