The Devil You Know

Fleeterberry

Spoilers: Set in OC season 2/SVU season 23 post ep 5 ignoring anything after

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Promise.

Trigger warning: References to WL arc/violence/kidnapping. Please don't read if this will upset you, I don't intend for my fics to be anything besides a fun distraction from life.

Part One

It's a day that ends in Y. At least, that seems to be the best excuse Elliot can come up with anymore for yet another celebratory party. The Albanians party like fucking rock stars, drugs and booze and girls and people passed out in restaurant booths and bathroom floors and places get wrecked and frequently someone ends up shot and the whole scene is so damn chaotic that Elliot honestly can't figure out anymore if he's too straight-laced for them or if he's simply getting old.

He suspects it's both and he's also learned his lesson well, and though he doesn't remember precisely what he said to Olivia when he was drugged out of his damn mind, he does clearly recall several different instances of her absolutely stricken face and knows that waking up on Bell's couch, not Liv's, was a fair indication of her level of anger with him because it must have been one hell of a scene for those two women to literally drag his unconscious ass out of Liv's apartment and into Bell's and though they both seem to have forgive him for the infraction based on his interactions with them afterwards, he has the sense to know not to repeat it.

So this time when a beautiful girl he's not a bit sure is on the right side of legal tries to climb into his lap, he turns his legs away and leans into the table. He's not going to humor her or them or anyone. He's not taking the chance - because he barely survived the "test" as Albi and Kosta had put it and he isn't sure his relationship with Liv has because he's barely talked to her since that night when god only knows what came out of his mouth except for the five seconds they were alone together when she told him with her words to come home before this damn undercover job swallows him alive and with her eyes that she's damn close to pulling rank to save his ass even when he doesn't deserve her help because he's in so deep at this point he's not sure he can quit being Ashes and she damn well knows it.

He still wonders what he said to her that night when he was drugged and there's so much he's never told her and he has no idea where he would have started when he was face to face with her and had no options besides the unadulterated truth and when he asks, Bell won't say anything besides "she's fine, Elliot" and he knows it's a warning, not just about keeping his job but also protecting the woman they both care about and respect and so there's no way he's letting anyone else drug him. Olivia does not need anymore brutal honesty from him for the near future and he knows that's exactly what will happen if someone doses him again because she's never far from his mind and it's a risk every time he's even slightly impaired or emotional or breathing because his instinct is to run to her every minute of every day and he needs to remain in control so he doesn't suck her into the black hole that is his life. It was bad enough when they were partners, when he was a clean-cut, church-going do-gooder. Now he's a rising star in the fucking Albanian mob and still has Richard Wheatley to contend with and, well, fuck, he's probably never going to think he's safe enough to see her.

Having turned away a second and third girl, he knows he's getting some curious looks and he shrugs at no one in particular and all of them in general and starts pounding back the whiskey because he can handle the alcohol and maybe, just maybe, if he drinks enough, he'll get sick and the girls won't keep coming if he's covered in vomit.

Reggie sidles up to him at one point, one girl climbing in his lap and another draped around his shoulders, both of them reminding Elliot of girls he'd expect at Eli's school and making him wonder if he's not going to wind up embroiled in another of SVU's cases where he's trapped defending the scum of the Earth and making every single one of Olivia's coworkers question her judgment and forcing Olivia to doubt herself.

Reggie is thoroughly inebriated and Elliot figures he'll be passed out long before he can pose much risk to the girls. "Eddie, buddy, are you blind or just dumb?"

As if on cue, and perhaps it is a cue, another girl - this one with enormous, frightened eyes and shaking hands - approaches with a fearful smile. Elliot waves her off with his drink in his fist, pouring it back and refilling it from the bottle he's been keeping a close eye on since he took it from behind the bar an hour earlier. The fuck if he's going to let himself get screwed again. The fuck he's going to let Olivia get screwed again either.

"These are little girls, Reggie." His hand moves to his beard, trying to draw attention to the age reflected in the salt and pepper hair. "I like women. Grown women who know what to do with their hands." He prays that Flutura has kept his little performance failure to herself and he assumes she has because Albi hasn't killed him yet and Reggie hasn't brought it up again and then he starts to think maybe it would be good for it to get around that he can't get it up because sexual dysfunction would explain why he's such a fucking asshole and likes to set things on fire, but at the same time, Elliot would undoubtedly lose his temper if confronted about it because he doesn't have any issues, at least not yet, it's just that he fucking wants Olivia so fucking bad that no one else is even remotely interesting to him at this point.

Reggie laughs and nods as though he is paying any attention to anything besides the pair of inexperienced hands from two different bodies in his lap.

On that note, Elliot grabs the whiskey bottle and heads for the door. He's made it clear he's not into the party this evening, so hanging around will seem strange. Stumbling out the door with a stolen bottle of booze, however, that might send the right message.

He knows it's coming sometime, he just doesn't know when or what he'll do when it happens. Reggie is a fucking moron - that's what made him the perfect mark - and Eddie is smart enough to want more and has been carefully pacing his power grabs on the ladder. He's got Albi's ear and sometimes it seems like Kosta is interested in what he's got to say, although that's still going to be a long, uphill battle and Elliot is pretty sure that the NYPD is going to frown on a ten year undercover stint and he really doesn't want to still be doing this shit at seventy because fuck he's already too old for it and he was ten years ago too.

Albi is giving him occasional morsels, testing him, trusting him to run some collections on his own or with a small group of guys that used to follow Reggie's orders exclusively. After one particularly destructive run-in with the owner of a pawn shop Elliot suspects is going to be out of business permanently the next day, Elliot spots the audience across the street - a pair of thugs he's seen around Kosta's table who appear to be near if not among the inner circle. Eddie is being groomed, he realizes, he's passed the initial tests of loyalty and strength and insanity. Eddie isn't family, but he's got bigger balls than Reggie, and though he's pledged his support to Reggie nearly every day, Eddie has also pledged his support to pretty much everyone in the organization who might be one more rung up the ladder.

Elliot worries that the final test will be an order to kill Reggie to take his place and he knows it won't end well for either of them because Elliot's good at faking it, but he's not actually a sociopath and he's not going to be able to kill someone in cold blood and that test - if it happens - isn't going to afford him the opportunity of privacy where he can offer Reggie immunity for testimony so neither of them has to die. Elliot clings to the hope that Reggie is family and that seems to mean something to the Albanians and so maybe Eddie can get promoted and the worst that will happen is a knock-down, drag-out street fight between him and Reggie that ends with crooked noses and taped up ribs.

But the worry that he's been around too long and is trusted enough plagues him. They're going to want him to kill someone at some point because they'll need the threat of a murder charge with an eye witness to hold over his head before they let him get too much deeper. To keep his mind off what he fears is coming long before any arrests, he thinks of Olivia often. He thinks of how beautiful she is and how strong she has always been and how she will, on a rare occasion, allow herself to be vulnerable around him. He remembers those precious minutes after Fin's wedding when he'd held her in his arms under the guise of dancing when he just wanted to feel her body against his. He recalls the way she'd allowed him to drive her home from the hospital after the accident and how she'd leaned against him in the elevator out of exhaustion and pain medicine and maybe a little because she felt safe with him. He thinks about how she ignored the briefing going on around them during the Navarro debacle in order to bicker with him like it was old times and the expression on her face when she realized it was Bell and not Cragen who was correcting them.

He's sitting in the backseat of an SUV, dressed in the "professional" attire Kosta had requested - which Eddie decided was black jeans and a black shirt - with his burner cell in his hands, itching to send her a text. A status update. A link to a stupid youtube video about a surfing dog. A simple ILY. Something. Anything. Some way to remind her that Elliot is still here, suffering and suffocating beneath Eddie's devil-may-care persona, trying to find a way back to her, if she is willing to have him, in whatever form she's willing to have him, wondering and fearing this fucking job that has brought them together twice will be the thing that finally breaks them too.

He's just staring at the phone, her number burned into his memory, his fingers itching to type it in, to send her a message just so he knows she hasn't changed her number. She doesn't deserve this from him - not as a friend or a coworker or whatever they were or should have been or might be or will be - she deserves him to have the time and the balls to sit the fuck down and have an honest conversation about how he feels when he's not in the midst of a god damned breakdown or stoned out of his fucking mind. She deserves the truth that he's terrified to give her and the opportunity to tell him that she doesn't feel the same and maybe that she never did and that she's happy and prefers her life without him in it and why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to give her that fucking letter and why the fuck did she keep speaking to him after he did and he really hopes his fucking balls got packed with the rest of their shit from Rome since Kathy had been keeping them in a damn jar on a shelf for years.

He's aware first of the silence in the car and then he's aware that it hadn't been silent a moment ago and then he's looking up and seeing Kosta and Albi and the rest of the peanut gallery staring at him and he is scared shitless that one of his thoughts fell out of his mouth and he has no idea which one it might have been and he's terrified that yet another fucker he's investigating will find out about Olivia and how much he fucking loves her and she'll be a target again.

He's nervous and faking that he's not when Kosta chuckles in that condescending way of his. "Everything all right?"

Albi nods at the phone Eddie's not supposed to have and Elliot obediently puts it away with a shrug.

"Sorry, it's my fucking ex." Albi and most of the audience seem satisfied and go back to staring at the restaurant they're watching but Kosta keeps looking, always trying to read emotions, especially on people who try to hide them.

Eventually Kosta smiles. "There are plenty of fish in the sea, my friend."

No, there aren't. There's only one fucking fish and he's finally single and he really, really wants to have the time to reel her in, but he's got a fucking international crime ring he has to bust while she keeps on fucking waiting like she has for almost twenty-fucking-five years. Elliot bristles silently about having nothing to give Olivia that's worthy of her fucking patience while Eddie nods toward the swanky Italian restaurant with his hand on the door. "When are we going in?"

His fake eagerness mollifies Kosta as the other man turns back to their target as well. "This is a nice place. It's easier to smooth over differences of opinion with the management when it's crowded."

Elliot swallows hard and tries not to see the innocent patrons sitting at their tables and waiting in line as potential victims of a turf war, but he knows it's a possibility. Kosta is dangerous and daring enough to light up a crowded restaurant at dinner time on a Friday night just to show he's entirely without a conscience.

It's nearly a half hour later, after darkness has fallen and all the tables are full and the restaurant has turned on the twinkling lights and heaters to keep the outdoor tables full of romantic minded couples, before Kosta finally gives the signal. They form an imposing group, Kosta and Albi and Eddie and six other guys, Kosta and Albi in expensive black suits with a black shirts and black ties and the rest of the group in matching black with decidedly fewer zeros in the price tags. Elliot recognizes the bulges in everyone's jackets, knowing the firepower they're carrying far exceeds anything even remotely reasonable for the occasion. He's used to the weapon at his waist, barely notices the weight of it, instead his attention is drawn to the lighter in his pocket, tapping against his thigh with every step, brought at the behest of the boss, which unnerves him more than a fucking rocket launcher had. If he gets out of this alive, he's going to have a meltdown every time he sees a damn birthday cake for the rest of his life.

Kosta and the group ignore the flustered maitre d' as they march past the line of people still awaiting tables. They ignore the angry mutters of the customers as they push past into the restaurant that is so fucking cramped and crowded that Elliot immediately considers calling the fire marshal for occupancy violations. They head straight for the back, Albi leaning closer to Kosta, directing him to "the one on the right" as they arrive at a table in the back of the dining room. Eddie knows his place and turns his back, he and two others forming a semi-circle of protection around the boss.

Elliot has been in the game for a long time and he knows to trust his instincts and so when his skin starts to tingle like he's touching a live wire, he starts looking around. He's careful and slow but trying to process as quickly as possible, knowing there's something very wrong and unable to identify what it is. His eyes move over every table, every couple, looking for the threat.

And then he sees it, the biggest threat imaginable.

Olivia Benson.

Jesus fucking Christ. He's going to die right where he stands. His heart pounds in his chest and his stomach threatens mutiny and his throat seizes up and his eyes lock on her. His internal panic makes him start to sweat and he digs his nails into his own skin as he tries to remain outwardly calm. Kosta's voice is still conversational, giving Elliot no need to expose himself yet. His eyes drink in the sight of her, the carefully arranged curls in the hair that spills down her back, the black dress that fits her exactly right and displays just enough cleavage to make him choke and the knee-length hem that leaves her long legs on display, the low heels she's wearing as a nod to the ankle he's sure still hurts her but can't ask about because he's not allowed to talk to her, the heavier makeup than she wears for work and Christ she's so fucking beautiful that every fucking part of him hurts while at the same time just looking at her makes everything better and it's no fucking wonder Flutura got no response from him because fucking hell no one could ever compete with Oliva fucking Benson.

There is a tall man sitting across from her at the table in a fancy suit who is evidently saying something so funny that Olivia actually throws her head back and laughs. Elliot can feel his breath quicken as he imagines leaning in, trailing his lips along her jaw, kissing her throat, tracing his tongue over her exposed chest. He can feel his heart racing and the adrenaline surging through his body and his muscles are tightening and he's about to march over there and ask her just what the fucking hell she thinks she's doing. One of his feet actually starts to lift off the ground.

And then there's a hand on his elbow, a stern, irritated voice in his ear. "Eddie, what are you doing? Have a seat."

He hears the accent and the name that's not his and his eyes are locked on the woman who has only just now noticed him and luckily she's much better at hiding her response and turns away to smile at her date. Elliot feels the hand on his elbow grab at his shirt, pulling him down harshly into a chair he damn near misses.

He forgets where he is and who he is and all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears. He swallows hard, seeing the pairs of eyes locked on him, their angry, accusing stares reminding him of the situation. He knows the talk must have gone well because they're sitting down and not redecorating the place with semi-automatics, but he figures Eddie is an asshole and likes being destructive and he knows it would be a death sentence to say he wasn't paying attention, so he doesn't even know what he's doing but there's the silver lighter in his hand all of a sudden and he smirks at the slightly ashen faces at the other end of the table.

"Beautiful place you got here. Shame if anything happened to it." He twirls the lighter around in his fingers, trying to sell his firebug persona.

Albi grabs the back of his head and offers an affectionate rub, a wide smile forming as he belts out a deep laugh. "Mr, Moretti, this is my very good friend, Ashes." Albi pauses for what Elliot knows is dramatic effect and so he flips the lighter open and closed in a careless way that took him hours of practice to master.

Kosta nods like an approving father, smiling as well because the chance he's taken on his low-ranking soldier appears to be paying off. "Ashes is very dedicated to our work."

He has passed another test as the table goes back to the discussion and this time he remains slightly more aware, watching the posturing and facial expressions rather than hearing the words. He's also using the mirror along the back wall to watch as Olivia finishes her dinner. He's telling himself that she's working, that she is undercover, for the meal at least, and he scans the crowd for Fin or that blonde who hates him or any one else, and though he finds no one, he keeps telling himself that she can't be on a date because it will kill him, as surely as if he tells Kosta he isn't paying attention.

He notices that she doesn't look in his direction again and he tells himself it's because she feels the pull too and doesn't want to get caught up in staring back at him the way they do sometimes and the way they spent half their partnership just staring at one another across their desks that somehow felt as intimate to him as having sex with his wife ever had but as soon as her date - and he knows it's a date whether he wants to admit it or not - stands up and turns slightly to offer her his hand which she takes and in so doing damn near causes Elliot to choke on his drink because he can now see the face of the man with whom she's spending the evening and probably the night and he can't think about it and he can't allow himself to recognize the tall man with the bright blue eyes and he absolutely can't process that it's Trevor fucking Langan who's got his hand pressed to Olivia's back as he guides her out of the restaurant and he definitely can't consider that Langan's involvement might well explain Olivia's tall, blue-eyed son.

He doesn't even notice until Albi's hand is on his wrist. "Settle down, Ash."

Elliot takes a minute to stare at the flame coming from his lighter and wonder if he shouldn't burn the place down with all of them sitting in it. With a shrug, he closes the lighter and drops it into his pocket. It occurs to him that the reason the damn assignment felt so familiar is that he's been playing with fire for decades now and burning himself every chance he gets and he loves every fucking minute of it and he can't ever walk away from the adrenaline rush of meeting her eyes because there is no denying the chemistry between them and whether she'll ever admit it or not and even if they never give in, he knows she feels it too. He's never felt so connected to anyone in his fucking life and he can't imagine ever unpacking that fact with his therapist who he is supposed to be seeing for PTSD after watching his wife get blown up in front of him but he knows deep down that what's got him so fucking upset is that he fucking resented the shit out of Kathy for calling him on his feelings for Olivia and refusing to admit defeat and for convincing him to write that spiteful fucking letter to drive a final fucking wedge between them and then fucking dying so he can't even fucking hate her for hurting the love of his life and he can't even be glad she's gone because she's dead and that would be wrong.

The conversation around the table continues and with nothing to distract him, Elliot begrudgingly tunes back in, gathering up any details he can share with his team at the next meeting. Kosta is motivated, trying to take over all of New York City and consolidate the entire city into his crime empire. Elliot is relatively sure Kosta is going to wind up in a body bag, shot by some street thug over some meaningless beef, just because Kosta is a big picture guy who doesn't pay attention to the details. The thing that concerns Elliot is how much damage the asshole can do before someone makes the world a better place.

As well as the negotiations are going, they're dealing with an old-school Italian Mafia Don wannabe who still seems hesitant to change his ways. He's going on about manners and rules and understanding the way things work and having dignity and artistry in their work. This is where Ashes comes in because he is not art or beauty or poetry, but complete fucking chaos and destruction. The Albanians don't want to possess so much as destroy and there's nothing as destructive as fire and a crazy man who likes to watch things burn.

Speaking of things burning, his eyes are drawn back to the door of the restaurant, a lump forming in his throat as Olivia reappears. She hasn't been gone that long, certainly not long enough to get home and come back, and as his eyes search for evidence of mussed hair and smeared lipstick, he decides he must have been right in the first place, that she's undercover and must have a message for him that is so important Bell would risk sending up the reddest fucking flag she could find to get his attention. Olivia pays him no attention as she finds her way to the small bar, parking her fine ass on a stool, turning her body towards the back of the restaurant where he can't possibly ignore her, and crossing her legs to pull the hem of her dress way too high for Elliot to breathe.

And Albi's voice is in his ear, a chuckle in his words. "Finally, we see what gets your attention."

Kosta grins as he takes a long look at Olivia that makes Elliot tighten his hands into fists. "I was starting to wonder, but apparently you have excellent taste." He lifts his glass in a toast. "Good luck with your new fish, my friend."

With a nod of permission, Kosta turns back to his discussion and leaves Elliot with no choice but to drag Olivia into his world in exactly the way he dreaded.

Knowing he has an audience and that there's more on the line here than when it's just his own worthless fucking life, Elliot relies on Eddie's confidence to make his way over to the bar. He can't help but smirk when she meets his eyes and he's trying to figure out what to think about the fact that she wore that dress with the expectation of meeting him.

He wants to flirt and tease and stare at her the way they always had when they were undercover together, but now things are different because he's not married and he's told her he loves her and she is still there to help him even when he doesn't deserve it and he's undercover for the foreseeable future and everything is all messed up and wrong and he doesn't even know what he thinks let alone what she feels so he can't approach her the way he wants to because this is Liv and Elliot is soft with Liv and Eddie is too crazy to be anything but crass and disrespectful and hard and he hates that he has to do it but if he doesn't they're both going to get a bullet in the head.

Rather than taking a seat a few stools away and waiting for an invitation, Elliot approaches directly, laying his palm on her knee, her skin burning him more than any lighter ever could, hating that this is the first time he's touched her like this and it has to be under these circumstances and yet knowing his infatuation with her has already garnered attention and he has to follow through to protect her. He meets her eyes and it's as powerful as always and somehow more because it reminds him of something he can't quite remember and staring up at her face and feeling like he would die if he couldn't kiss her right then although he feels the same way at this moment and he's looking down at her on her stool something seems wrong and maybe it's because that never happened and he's never been in that position and he wonders if that's what's wrong or if he's just insane and should hold onto the lie that he's ever been that close to her.

The worst part is he doesn't have time to sort through all the disjointed images that are flooding his mind at her proximity and the smell of her perfume and based on the way they seem so real and so unreal at the same time he's starting to believe they are memories surfacing of the night he was drugged and he's hearing words in his head and it's her voice and his too and he doesn't have the context clear yet but he knows that approaching her like this was the worst idea of all time and he knows it's left him at a horribly dangerous disadvantage because his world revolves around her and he can't hold himself together while his mind is unraveling but he has to because he's protecting her and he really hopes she doesn't notice his palm sweating where it's sitting on her thigh.

With a smirk he hopes reads Eddie, he leaves his hand right where it is and puts his other hand on the back of her stool and leans a bit closer, as close as he dares when the closer he gets the more overwhelming the memories feel and he really wants to ask her what the actual fuck happened that night but he knows even if she is willing to tell him she isn't going to tell him here and so has to bottle it up and pretend he's this obnoxious prick hitting on a woman so far out of his league that it's preposterous and obviously Kosta sent him over to make a fool of himself.

He's trying to think of something to say and some secret way to communicate with her because just staring at her the way he wants to is going to look really weird to his new friends who are undoubtedly watching. He's only got a few seconds before things are going to turn south.

She'd had an undercover assignment a long, long time ago, early in their partnership when things were lighter and easier and the baggage was more manageable. She'd been parked at a bar in a ridiculously short, tight dress while trying to get information about a suspect. He and Cassidy had been sitting in the van across the street listening to her wire and ready to offer backup if something went wrong. Cassidy made so many comments about her that Elliot had seriously considered telling Cragen the guy had no business in Special Victims. But over the next hour, they had to endure no end of guys hitting on Olivia with the worst lines they'd ever heard to the point that it became a joke, he and Cassidy taking turns whispering into her earpiece the dumbest, cheesiest, and sometimes filthiest lines they could remember all in the name of seeing which one of them could make her crack.

And he'd won because even then he'd known her and how she thought and so there was no other option for Eddie besides the line that had gotten a very young Olivia Benson to snort into her vodka martini.

He speaks loud enough that anyone trying to overhear can, aiming to let her know they're under scrutiny but safe enough for the moment, provided he can stop the flow of memories long enough to have a conversation.

"If being sexy was a crime, you'd be guilty as charged."

He watches as she remembers, the light coming into her almost perpetually worried expression, and he sees her decide to give in, her lips curving into a smile as she gives him the laugh he was hoping for. She meets his eyes for a moment that's a little too long for strangers but not nearly long enough for him and her head nods the slightest bit. He's ok. She's ok. They're ok. Message sent. Message received.

She glances down with a raised eyebrow and moves his hand from her knee as she looks him over, sizing him up in a way she never has, while leaning the slightest bit back against the hand he has on the back of her chair.

With a smile so bright it damn near blinds him, she offers her hand. "Olivia."

Oh fuck.

It's never, ever good when they go undercover using real names.

He swallows and proactively chooses not to lie to her, instead nodding towards the table he's sure is watching but he can't take his eyes off the beauty in front of him long enough to check on. "The assholes in the back call me Eddie."

He takes her proffered hand, holding rather than shaking, the presumption of Eddie and the desperation of Elliot to feel her skin. He's careful when he runs his thumb across her knuckles knowing it's too far but unable to resist and once he sees the awareness flicker in her eyes he knows nothing will ever be enough. And he wonders why he didn't fucking kiss her that night at his garden gate when she'd been bold enough to reach out to him and he'd been so fucking shocked that she'd been willing to make such a move and stupidly panicking that he couldn't be receptive because he was still too deep into being Eddie to kiss her as Elliot.

"Business or pleasure, Eddie?" And somehow she one ups him, her legs moving to uncross and re-cross in the opposite direction, her leg suddenly curled lightly around the back of his thigh and he no longer has any thoughts whatsoever because all of his blood has been redirected to his body's physical response to the hottest woman he's ever seen hitting on him. For a moment, a thought forms through the haze and he wonders if she's trying to make him lose it and if she knows Eddie would be perfectly ok with fucking her right there against the bar in a cozy little Italian restaurant with a hundred people watching.

But Elliot would not be and so tries to remind himself that this isn't really Liv, but her job as much as burning fingerless, toothless bodies is a job for him. He swallows hard and can't summon up two fucks to care if he's embarrassing himself.

He nods at her drink and misleads any audience they might have into thinking he's talking about buying her another while he's inquiring about a message from his boss. "Planned?"

She shakes her head. "Coincidence."

Well then. That's different. She had the opportunity to leave and she didn't and she's here deliberately putting them in a situation where he's likely to touch her and he's already touching her and she can only put up so much of an argument without walking away. But that means she really was having dinner with Langan and letting that lucky bastard enjoy this fucking dress while never intending for Elliot to see it at all.

So if there's a bear, Elliot has to poke it.

His hand returns to her leg, higher this time, his fingers deliberately trailing under the hem of her dress, brushing her skin, causing her pupils to dilate much the way he knows his are. He's a fucking moth and Olivia is the god damned flame and he's going to keep going until he's burnt to a fucking crisp. He is incapable of learning and he suspects she knows that and so he decides she is at least partially responsible for them setting the fucking world on fire around them.

"Do I want to know what happened to your boyfriend?" It's not just the sting of seeing her on a date nor the identity of that date, but something else that aligns with those fuzzy memories and he remembers that he'd written about how he wanted her to be with someone decent and she doesn't know that didn't come from him and she probably doesn't understand why he's mad about it since he fucking told her to do it.

She grins, ignoring the hand that has now mostly disappeared under the hem of her dress, keeping up the flirting, the appearance, but her eyes tell him the answer is real and meant to soothe him. "Just a friend."

And still, probably because he can never resist the urge to needle and because he's never satisfied or secure or able to not look a gift horse in the mouth, and he knows if she doesn't stop him soon his hand is going to keep going and that dress is going to be hiked up around her waist while his fingers go exactly where they've always wanted to go and his mouth is going to follow and he wonders if she's ever been eaten out by a guy with a goatee and shit she's always been able to read his mind and if she is now, she's probably going to get very angry or hell, judging from the speed of her chest rising and falling, she is well aware of what he's thinking and she's thinking it too and fuck maybe Olivia and Elliot would be just fine with up against a bar in a cozy little Italian restaurant with a hundred people watching after all. "Ever not just a friend?"

And then her hand is on his wrist, but she doesn't push, she just wraps her fingers around him and holds him still and his fingers dig into her thigh while her fingers dig into his wrist. So maybe not ok with up against the bar, but definitely ok with his hand up her skirt. He's going to have trouble ever getting in a car with her again or sitting next to her behind a table and he can't decide if it's a good thing or a bad thing that she doesn't wear dresses all that often.

She looks disappointed and her eyes drop and he knows he shouldn't have pushed but she should know by now he'll never not push the same as he knows she'll never just give him the straight fucking answer he's obviously desperate for. "After you've known someone for twenty years, there's just no other word for it."

He wants to believe her sad tone is because Trevor isn't a friend and that she doesn't even like him all that much and of course he's not the father of the boy she's never seen fit to introduce to Elliot because she never liked defense attorneys and certainly not this one and even if she did like him, it absolutely couldn't have been enough to do anything that might result in pregnancy. Instead his insecurity, bred from decades of miscommunication and a relationship he wants to swear was mutual but may well have been all in his head and then a decade of silence which definitely deserves her calling him far less than a friend, makes him believe she's not talking about Langan even while his fucking hand is shoved up her skirt and her nails are cutting into his veins.

He swallows hard and decides Elliot needs to take a night off from the slight and has to retreat from the barb she might not have even thrown his way and so Eddie takes over and this vulnerability, he wants to tell her but can't because she's just crushed him again, is why he is so desperate to be someone else for a while.

His hand slides away from her and the air feels ice cold on overheated skin and just watching her smoothing her dress down makes his whole body shake with want. "Let me get you a drink, what're you having?"

If she knows something has changed, she doesn't show it as she turns back to the bartender and lifts her glass for a refill. The bartender is attentive so much so that Elliot wonders if he's more than a bartender and there's a fresh drink next to the one she's taken maybe two sips of. Elliot grabs the new drink, taking a long sip, not a bit surprised that it's seltzer and lime because Olivia ordered it and she's nothing if not sensible, at least when she's dealing with anyone and anything not related to Elliot Stabler.

And Eddie is an asshole but Elliot is aware of Kosta standing up and so in case the boss is headed his way, Elliot has to hide again, maybe go back to licking his wounds while Eddie offends the shit out of this woman so she'll have an excuse to leave despite having been flirting with him a moment earlier.

"This isn't a drink." He pours what's left on the bar and tosses the glass onto the floor. The action gets the attention of several people, including the group he accompanied and, naturally, the bartender.

"Is there a problem, sir?"

"Get the lady a drink, not this fucking shit." He motions at the drink she ordered and ignores her attempt to assure him the water was her request.

And then Kosta is there, slithering up on the far side of Olivia. "Is there a problem?"

Eddie scoffs, meeting her eyes and smiling as he answers his boss. "Just a shitty bartender. I'll take care of it."

And a moment later, Eddie is behind the bar, grabbing a glass and flipping a bottle and watching Olivia laugh in the mirror. He sees Kosta wave off the bartender and another man who were thinking of interrupting Eddie's display. The meeting must be going in Kosta's favor then, if he's directing the staff.

Elliot mixes her a martini, light on the vermouth, skipping the gin because he knows Olivia doesn't like it, heavy on the vodka because it might have been over twenty years ago, but he still remembers the way she ordered her drink that night even though he's never heard her order it again in all the years since. He turns around while he's dropping the speared olives in and realizes that Albi has joined Kosta while his back was turned and it makes him nervous, but he's able to serve the drink on a napkin right in front of her filled to the brim without spilling a drop like the experienced bartender Eddie pretends to be.

He's concentrating on the Albanians who are decidedly more dangerous than the woman in front of him in many ways, but he forgets momentarily while he's fearing for her safety that Olivia Benson is and always was and always will be his Achilles heel and he barely notices her leaning forward, her hand touching the stem of the glass, but he notices when her whole body jerks and suddenly there is no one there except his partner and the panic and fear and horror and pain washing over her face and her skin has paled and beads of sweat are forming on her forehead and her eyes are glassy and all he knows is that this night has gone very, very wrong and he's terrified for her and for him and for whatever the fuck is happening in front of him.

"Olivia?" He speaks as softly as he dares, trying to be Eddie while Elliot is flailing with worry and fear and the inability to shelter her and he hates the terror he sees in Olivia's blind stare and he hates even more that he has to pretend it doesn't really bother him while all he wants to do is wrap her in his arms and shield her from whatever she's seeing since it's sure as hell not a fucking martini. "Something wrong?"

With a shaking hand, Olivia pushes the drink away, but the liquid sloshes over the rim and onto her hand and then there are tears forming in her eyes as she tries to shake the alcohol off her skin and Elliot wants and needs to comfort her but he can't without risking more than he already has and that's already too much.

He hears Albi's voice and the man pushes the drink closer to her once again. "A classy drink for a classy lady."

"You should thank the man," and then Elliot is watching in horror as Kosta takes another long look at Olivia and places his hand on her knee just as Elliot had done moments earlier and he's leaning in to stage-whisper in her ear. "Unless you're not so classy, huh?"

Elliot is staring at her face and understanding that she hasn't heard a word of the exchange and that she's not even aware of where she is and he recognizes the way she's shaking and jerking and twitching from the sensory overload of being lost in a fucking flashback and he suddenly understands how she caught on to his PTSD so quickly and he'd happily lay down his life to fix whatever the fuck he just broke or even to just tell her everything is going to be ok and instead he has to settle for the only thing he can give her - escape from the trigger he just shoved under her nose.

And then he's grabbing the martini and dumping it down the counter, lighting the alcohol with the fucking flame that's been itching to ruin something all night and he just never had any idea it would be Olivia that got destroyed.

Amid the ruckus that ensues as some patrons gather for the fireworks following Eddie's loud declaration that drinks are on the house, as Eddie randomly smashes some bottles and twirls others and the rest of the dinner guests run for the door, Olivia staggers to the door among those fleeing the chaos and Eddie waits a little bit too long to call out "hey, honey, where are you going" just to make sure she can't possibly hear it and Elliot feels like part of him just died while he's dancing in the ashes.