Olivia says goodnight to Lucy, shuts the door and leans back against it. Her head is a jumble of emotions. Irritation over Elliot's typical bullshit. Anger over the whiplash he gave her from a pleasant evening to a raging fight. Relief for saying all the things that she's been bottling up for ten years. Anxiety over all the things she didn't say, all the things he implied with his words, with his mouth.

Her eyes close, unsure what to think about the kiss. Torn between how long she had waited for that tangible hint at a physical relationship with him and the nerve of him to do it the way he did, when there are still too many questions, too much wrong between them.

Again, so typical. What does he think? He's gonna kiss me and I'm gonna fall into his arms? She rolls her eyes, pushes away from the door.

Liv opens the door to Noah's room, takes a peek and shuts it quietly. She stands next to her kitchen, the end of the evening replaying in her mind.

He'd called and called and called after she'd left him standing outside the restaurant. But what was she supposed to say to him?

She has no idea what she wants. There's the part of her that recognizes that she's been holding on to the memory of him, longing for him for years before he left her. That runs up against the betrayal, the brokenness of what they once were.

She had spent so long trying to deny the yearning she had for him, the desire. So many years of deflecting everyone's inquiries and suggestions and innuendos. How often had she said 'he's married' as if it was a barrier that would stop her from wanting him? She'd always known better.

Of course, it was different now. There's no easy barrier to throw between them. There's just them and the possibility. And she doesn't know what it means. No matter how he's been acting.

He's been dropping these bombs since he stormed back into her life. The letter. 'You mean the world to me'. 'I love you'. Now, the kiss. She'd call it emotional warfare, except she knows how out of control he's been. He's finally turning a corner, she can see it clearly, from the onset of the trauma to finding a way through it. She's watching him close a chapter in his life. She's seeing him prepare for the next. It's there in every moment she spends with him. And it frightens her.

It could never just be simple with him. Where before it was his marriage, their partnership. Now it's ten years of betrayal, 13 years of baggage before it.

And even if all those pretty words felt good, it didn't mean she could ignore the way he'd left, what it had damaged between them. She doesn't yet know how to forgive him for it. Or for all the things he missed during his absence, all the times she needed him.

Olivia slips out of her dress, into her pajamas. It had been nice for a moment there. To pretend that she could have dinner with him and ignore all the rest of it. Test the waters and see what it might be like to spend time with him without the barriers that had been between them for so long. But now she's exhausted, bone tired. She crawls into bed, shuts her eyes and tries to turn off her mind.

Elliot's been calling and texting her for days, to no avail. Olivia seems all too happy to ignore him until she decides she's ready to talk.

At first he had needed to know what she had refused to tell him. And when she hadn't responded, he had thought about finding out another way. Calling Fin, asking Sloot to dig, pulling her files, googling her. He's almost done every one of these things. But then he'd stopped, fear and uncertainty making him reconsider. He'd worried that Liv would be angry for going behind her back. He'd reminded himself that if he hadn't kept up with her life, then the least he could do was give her the courtesy of allowing her to share when he'd earned the right. And he was scared. Frightened by the look on her face when she'd refused to voice what she'd been through, how horrible it must have been.

And so he keeps reminding himself that he should respect her silence, her distance, her boundaries. And he will. As soon as he knows she's ok.

The phone rings, cuts to voicemail, a clear indication he's been silenced once more. He groans in frustration, waits through her prompt, "Liv. I know you're still mad. But I need you to call me back. It's urgent. As soon as you get this. Call me back." He stabs at the red button, wonders if he should ask Sloot to track her phone. Knows it's going too far, so flips over to his messages and texts her.

Bell emerges from her office, crossing to the window where he stands. "Did you reach her?"

He shakes his head, furrows his brow.

"She knows how to take care of herself," Ayanna reminds him.

Elliot scrubs at his eyes, nods a half agreement. He knows damn well that Liv can handle herself. It still didn't mean he was going to be able to breathe until he heard from her.

"Anything?" He prompts Ayanna.

Ayanna shakes her head, "Sloot's listening to some chatter. Washburn is talking to the warden." She sighs, "It's probably just a distraction."

Elliot shakes his head, "No. You know this guy. He's too angry, too reckless. He won't be thinking of running. He'll be thinking of revenge."

He moves over to his computer, opening up the image, staring at it hard. "This was taken last week. She was meeting me for dinner." He finishes quietly.

Ayanna glances at Elliot before she leans forward, looking at the picture one more time. Captain Benson in a deep purple dress, captured mid-stride. The picture lays on top of Wheatley's made and empty bed. Wheatley's been missing for three hours.

"We'll find him." Ayanna promises softly. Elliot squeezes his hands into fists, swears that if Wheatley hurts one hair on Liv's head, he won't take another breath.

Across town, Olivia's just finished a meeting with Carisi, exiting the ADA's office through a side door near where she's parked. She had just silenced yet another call from Elliot, not yet ready to talk to him. As she'd stared annoyed at the phone minutes before and determinedly silenced the call, she had glanced up to find Carisi eyeing her with interest. "Someone you don't want to speak with?" And there's a hint there that he knows a little too much.

Liv smirks, "Is Amanda indulging in pillow talk?" He turns a satisfying sort of bright red and Olivia has to stop herself from laughing at him.

She stands outside the building now, seeing that Elliot had followed the voicemail with a text.

Where are you?

She frowns at it, still annoyed, unsure what exactly his problem is. Before she can decide whether to reply she hears the sharp footfalls speeding towards her. Olivia reacts, reaching for her hip, her weapon, but he's already on top of her, masked, his gun pointing in her face. "Uh uh," he scolds gruffly and she lifts her hand away. The man gestures to the phone and when she hesitates she hears another voice, from behind. "Don't be stupid." She hands it over, lifts both hands a bit higher. The van screeches to a stop just a few feet away. "Nice and easy," the first gunman tells her, unholstering her weapon and nudging her towards the van. She climbs in and then there's a sharp pain in her head and the world dims to black.