Sorry for the delay: I've been dealing with a broken air conditioner in a heatwave and didn't feel much like writing. Also, this might be the chapter that gets my ass kicked.

IV:

Elliot grunted in frustration and finished another file. He hadn't meant to yell at Olivia; she just drove him slightly left of insane sometimes. Maybe even on purpose. She was a Captain: that meant she was supposed to be behind a desk, making decisions, not jaunting off to talk to victims and playing their friend and getting tossed off balconies like a piece of garbage. It was offensive to him that she ignored her own well-being in favor of doing whatever she damn well felt like, and, as her boyfriend (how juvenile and purile that sounded even in his mind) he felt he had the right to voice his concern. Maybe not exactly in the way he had, but…

God knew he wasn't exactly famous for his self-restraint.

It also didn't help that he loved her; since Kathy died, since he'd finally gotten his head back on straight, since… everything, he had finally admitted that. It wasn't just some trick of the light, some smoke and mirrors thing: no, he really fucking loved Olivia Benson in a way that shook him right down to the core of his foundations and left him uneasy. This… this whole nonsense unsettled him in a bad way.

And that Barba guy? What a joke.

He blew his way through another report and muttered about letting his shit get out of hand when his phone started ringing. Momentarily annoyed at not being able to locate it, he eventually found it on the third repeat of the annoying tone beneath another pile of paper. "Stabler," he barked without really looking at the caller ID once he saw it was a New York number.

"Hey," Olivia rasped softly. "I borrowed Barba's phone. Put the number in your contacts so when he calls you later you don't miss the call."

"Okay, baby – look, I'm sorry abo –"

"El, they're about to take me down for surgery. I don't have a lot of time. It's fine: it's not the first fight we've had about the job and it won't be the last." Her voice was shaky, tired, thready. "I love you, okay?"

"Surgery for what?"

"A couple of blood clots," she said. "I've got to go – I love you, El."

"Liv… Olivia – shit," he said, covering his eyes with his hand. "Baby, please, just be okay."

"I'll try."

Elliot waited fifteen minutes before he called the number back; he thought that was an appropriate amount of time to wait before unloading on Barba. It gave them time to get her out of the room and on her way, and gave him time to get re-settled, or talk to the doctors or whatever needed to be done. Elliot had, unfortunately, been on the end of far too many hospital visits.

"Barba."

"Mr. Barba, this is Elliot Stabler –"

"I don't have any updates for you: they just wheeled her down a few minutes ago."

"I know, but –"

"And if you want me to sugarcoat it for you, Mr. Stabler, I'm afraid I can't do that. Liv has several blood clots that have formed in her lungs and haven't dissolved with medication, so there is the potential that they will break free and cause a stroke, heart attack, or even death – so, no… I don't have any updates, and yes, this is an emergency surgery. We were given less than ten minutes to prep after the ultrasound before she was going down for pre-op. And she wanted to call you."

Elliot flinched. "Did she call Noah?"

"No. She didn't want to worry him." The quiet frustration in the man's voice was fairly crackling down the line. "He's just a little boy, still: he needs her."

"We all need her," Elliot muttered harshly.

"Now isn't the time to be selfish," Barba said with a heavy sigh. "She needs us: we can't not be there for her. Forget the rest."

"I'm going to ask her to marry me."

There was dead silence for a long moment, then Barba said, "Oh. I hope everything works out in your favor, then, Mr. Stabler."

"If she says yes, I intend to adopt Noah." It hadn't really been on his agenda much, but the whole legal mess they'd found themselves embroiled in just made him determined to keep the little boy out of Barba's clutches if at all possible. He hated that Olivia was so swayed by the man, but to have Noah suckered in, too? By "Baby-Killer Barba" of all people?

"Good for you," Barba said a little unevenly. "It only makes sense."

"I'm going to finish up here," Elliot said, scowling at the chaotic eruption of paperwork on his desk, "and come to the hospital so I can be there when she gets out of surgery."

"Don't rush," Barba said. "It'll be four or five hours."

Elliot sighed. Long enough to tame the files and stop for a quick prayer on the way; absolution didn't come cheap and karma had it out for him in a big way. The red in his ledger still hadn't been outweighed enough by black to keep her from slipping, and what could he do but beg? "Yeah, well… I'll be there anyway. And you can go home."

"You know I can't do that."

"Who's fault is that?" Elliot countered bitterly.

"You know I won't fight Olivia's wishes," Barba said. His voice was low with tension, and Elliot wanted to reach through the phone and throttle him. "She made these legal decisions years ago, Mr. Stabler. I abide by them because they are her wishes. When she changes her mind… I will abide by her decision then."

"You know what, screw you," Elliot said, his anger boiling over. "Always like a fucking lawyer, talking nonsense and backing everyone else into a corner and –"

"Do you honestly think I want to be the one standing here, making life and death decisions for her?" Barba snapped. "Don't you think I want to push that responsibility off on you or someone else? Anyone else? I can't stand to see her in pain. Not after…" He fell silent, and when his voice came back, it was broken. "You weren't here. When she was abducted by William Lewis. And then when she willingly walked into his trap to save someone else's life at grave risk of her own. You weren't here when she decided that she needed someone else to be responsible for her medical care because she couldn't make decisions for herself. Olivia Benson is the strongest woman – the strongest person – I have ever known, but she is not infallible. You don't understand, Stabler: you can never understand."

Elliot's upper lip curled into a sneer. Twelve years of partnership, of trust, of having her back through thick and thin, and he couldn't understand? Like hell. "Right," he drawled. "Because your relationship is so tight, isn't it?"

Barba was silent again, but then his words were cutting. "You can come to the hospital, but if you do anything to upset her, I will not hesitate to ask you to leave."

Elliot grunted his assent and hung up. He finished his paperwork and caught a taxi to the hospital. The wait was excruciating, especially in the same room with Barba, who was wearing jeans and a casual flannel shirt over an old, Beatles t-shirt. Definitely not the same buttoned up man from the day before, and he was picking at his cuticles as he read things off his iPad and paced endlessly in the waiting room.

"Don't you ever sit down?" Elliot finally muttered.

Barba startled and looked up at him, confused. "No," he said. "Not unless I'm reading to Noah or watching TV with him." He flipped the cover of his case closed and added, "Pacing helps me think: keep my thoughts in order. The rhythm of my steps gives me a pace to order my bullet points to."

Elliot's eyes widened, and he nodded, not really comprehending, but who really understood how a lawyer's mind constructed an argument anyway? "How… how did you get to be so close with Noah? The kid doesn't really like me."

A tiny hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "I was there when she brought him home. I've been there all along. He's my Noah and I'm his Uncle Rafa. I… don't know how to explain it."

"You're his dad," Elliot said, gesturing vaguely.

"But I'm not," Barba protested. "And if you asked her, she would laugh in your face. I'm just Uncle Rafa."

Elliot watched him for a long moment, then finally said, "Did you fuck her?"

The other man's face darkened then with absolute fury. "Detective Stabler, I –"

"I mean, hell, she's… gorgeous, brilliant, compassionate, tough as nails, hot as hell..."

"I did not sleep with Captain Benson," Barba ground out through clenched teeth, "and I resent the implication –"

"She calls your name sometimes, during sex," Elliot said, watching his reaction very closely. "And I just thought –"

Barba stared at him, eyes wide, jaw slack. "You thought wrong," he spluttered.

He'd been reading suspects and perps for longer than he cared to admit, and while the lawyer had an air of guilt about him, the idea that he had been the name on Olivia's lips genuinely baffled him and ruffled his feathers in a way that seemingly unsettled him. To the point that he fell into a chair, dropping his iPad into his lap and dragging his hands through his hair anxiously. There was no way to fake that reaction, and Elliot found himself pitying the man: to suddenly find yourself confronted with the knowledge that at least subconsciously, something was going on between the two was painful at best when there was nothing at all to be done about it.

And it was pitiful.

A doctor came into the room and said, "Benson?"

"Yes, that's us," Barba spoke up, his tone hollow. He and Elliot were the only two in the small room, so it wasn't like it was rocket science.

The doctor smiled and took off his scrub cap. "She's been wheeled into another private room, and is asking for Elliot."

Elliot stood up and said, "That's me."

"I'll need to speak to Mr. Barba –"

Barba stood up and crossed to the doctor and said, "That would be me."

The doctor gestured for Elliot. "Go to the nurses' station and they'll give you her room number. She'll be settled in about five minutes and you can visit for about an hour, till visiting hours are over."

Elliot headed to the nurses' station and got the number, then headed to her room. Olivia was in her bed, resting, her eyes closed. He knocked lightly on the wall as he came closer. "Hey, baby," he greeted when she stirred.

"Mmm, hey," she rasped softly. "Sorry if I scared you earlier."

"Liv, what scares me is you not coming home one day," he said softly, reaching out and holding her hand. "And me not being there for you –"

"Elliot –"

"Liv, this isn't what you deserve, but… will you please marry me?"

She stared at him for the longest time, then blinked, her eyes unfocused and full of tears. "El, no – I can't. I won't. Not now. Maybe not ever." Her words were as quiet as the tiny breaths that left her lips. "I… I'm sorry. The last couple of months have been –"

"Are you breaking up with me in the hospital?" Elliot asked in disbelief, his voice barking out a harsh laugh. "Seriously, Liv?" The sting of rejection was new: when Kathy served him with divorce papers, it had been like an annoying little mosquito bite on the ass, but this? This was like a slap.

"Elliot, I'm sorry, but we've been trying to force this to work between us for two months and you're not the same Elliot Stabler that left the 1-6 all those years ago, and I sure as hell am not the same Olivia Benson who let you just… go," she said very quietly.

"Are you in love with him?" he demanded.

"Who?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

"Barba."

"No," she denied, shaking her head. "Of course not. Why would you think –"

"Liv, credit me with some goddamn sense in my head," he muttered. "I love you. It doesn't count for anything anymore, does it?"

"It counts for a lot," she said, "but I have to do what's best for both of us, El. It's not the right time for us – it may never be." She paused and bit her lip. "There have always been things I can't say. Things you just don't understand."

"I read the trial transcripts."

She laughed without mirth. "Brian was at work one night and I was… I woke up in the throes of a nightmare and called Rafael, crying and rambling I don't even know what. The next thing I knew, he was on the other side of my door, pounding on it and pulling the gun out of my hands. Elliot, Rafa and Fin have had my back and I trust them quite literally with my life. I don't expect you to understand. All I ever wanted was for you to trust me."

"I do trust you, Olivia –"

"No, you don't," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Elliot. I love you; of course I do. But this… it isn't working. And I don't know how to fix it."

It wasn't like being blindsided: it was like a catastrophic collapse. She was so calm, so gentle, so fucking Olivia that it made everything so much worse. And in that moment, he began to understand that the woman he had fallen in love with – the headstrong, obstinate Olivia Benson who reacted first and asked questions later was long gone, replaced with this softer, gentler woman who was trying desperately not to crush his fragile heart in her hands.

She was no saint: but then again, neither was he.

They were both forged in darkness and pain, but she was trying so hard to walk a higher, better path. And this was where their hearts parted ways.

He wasn't going to lie and say he wasn't a bit pissed the fuck off, but…

Son of a bitch.

It was over before it really had a chance to begin.