The air is no cooler outside as he stumbles through the restaurant door. There's nothing to shake him back to normal, to reset his control. Elliot knows that his feet are moving, but it's like it's happening to someone else. Like he's looking down at himself struggling to walk, to stay upright. Part of his mind is fighting hard to stay alert, to be aware of what he's doing. But a bigger part is euphoric, flying, floating.

The part fighting for control is trying to figure out what to do, aware he's been dosed with something and wondering what the best way forward is now that he's escaped the room full of Albanians.

The part that's enjoying itself thinks quickly of Olivia, the person most often at the forefront of his brain, and wonders where she is and how he can see her. And even the part fighting for control thinks Liv equals safety. And so now with a destination in mind, his feet keep moving.

He doesn't quite know New York as well as he once did. And Olivia's building is a newer one that didn't exist when he lived here before. Yet, his mind had already plotted the route to her house when he went under. A path he'd retrace when he couldn't sleep, fantasizing about seeing her, even as he knew it was impossible.

He'd been there a handful of times. The first after the accident, to bring her home from the hospital. Then twice more under the pretense of giving her updates about Wheatley.

But she'd never quite allowed him inside, always deferring to Noah being home and he didn't try to push for entry or the introduction to her son. Even high he can picture the elevator, her hallway, her door.

So he takes a wrong turn or two, his mind addled. But eventually he recognizes the glass front doors, the doorman and he grins, excited to be there.

But there's an urgency in his mind now too. Words swirling, yearning to break free, yearning to be heard. Yes, it's a good thing he came to Liv.

The hallway tilts as he walks down it and he passes by at first because the door and the wall had merged for a moment and he had to look again to see whether it was really her home.

And when he hears her voice he knows he made the right choice, his body reaching for hers, the need to verify that it's really her. He slumps into her and knows he's safe.

Olivia looks down at Elliot, his hand still cradling her face. His fingers brush behind her ear and he's never touched her so intimately before. She thinks the feel of his thumb on her lips will leave a permanent imprint.

They stay like that for a long moment and Olivia thinks about sliding down to her knees. His other hand is grasping at her back and his face presses into her belly and she feels him breathe her in and she has to close her eyes to steady herself.

The confession about the letter, the way he's touching her, are overwhelming. Four times they've held each other, each memory branded in her mind. But everything about this experience is new and she reminds herself that he's not in his right mind even as he looks up at her with all his feelings laid bare.

Now is not the time to fall apart, though. Elliot's in trouble, again. Instead she tugs at him, deciding they can't stay like this forever, and he can't stay here after what he's told her. She needs to get him out of here.

"Come on," she says as she pulls and he takes the cue and maneuvers himself to his feet enough that together they can put him back into the chair. He grips her waist as he does this, so when he sits back in the chair, her body is pulled along with his and she has to lean into his space, their faces close.

Olivia pulls back and his hands move to her arms and his grip tightens and when he looks up at her she sees he's not willing to let go yet.

"Do you believe me?" The words are slurred, slow, one running into the next.

"I need to call your sergeant," she answers and pulls back hard enough that he relinquishes his hold on her.

Liv moves to the kitchen counter, her back turned to Elliot while she dials Ayanna.

"Captain Benson?" She can hear the hesitation in the woman's voice, like maybe she's expecting more from their fallout from the case.

"Sergeant Bell, sorry to call so late." Olivia pauses, not sure if the use of the title was the right decision, but she forges on. "Detective Stabler is here…at my home. He's been drugged." Olivia presses her fingers into her eyebrow, tiredly.

She hears Ayanna take a breath. "Did you call anyone else?" The uncertainty in Ayanna's voice is clear.

"I wanted to take him to the hospital…but that's your call, Sergeant." Because If Olivia had her way she would take Elliot to the hospital, she'd follow procedure. But that's maybe more because she wants to pull him out of the situation and less because she believes it's the absolute right thing for the bigger picture. But she recognizes that if we're her op, she'd be angry about anyone's interference and she respects the sergeant enough to not want to do that to her.

"Thanks," Ayanna sounds surprised, relieved. "I'll come get him. Can you send me your address?"

She hangs up the phone and texts the address to Ayanna, sees the response come back lightning fast. The whole time her back was turned to him she could feel the absolute focus Elliot had on her. And she dreads turning back to him, unsure if she can handle more. But it'll be another twenty minutes before Ayanna hauls Elliot away and she can't avoid him.

She turns back and it's apparent how hard he's fighting to stay in this moment and not drift off. How hard he is trying to be here with her.

But she has to wonder why it takes him being out of his mind to say the things he needs to say to her. Why is it always this uphill battle with him? Why are they always chasing rainbows trying to reach each other?

She moves back towards him and he says her name like he has more he wants to say, like he needs her attention. So she moves closer and listens.

"Did you think 'bout us?" The words like molasses falling off his tongue, sticky and sweet and thick enough to get trapped in. And she doesn't want to answer so she replies with a question.

"Why give me the letter if it wasn't from you?"

He blinks at her slowly, his eyebrows bunching as he searches for the words. "You could…decide what's best. You've always known what's best. If you wanted a…reason to be done then you could. If you still thought of us, then maybe...we could…" His mouth closes, his tongue licking dryly at his lips and she hands him the glass of water again, watches him use both hands to sip at it, his eyes never leaving hers. Finally he brings the glass down. "Needed to leave it up to you. Wasn't fair I was gone so long."

She takes the empty glass from him and places it back on the table as she considers this. But then a more urgent question comes to mind.

"Why'd you come back now? Why didn't you stay away?"

He reaches for her and she doesn't back away as he manages to sit up, his hands wrapping around her wrists.

"Couldn't stay away. Every time in New York harder not to see you. Just couldn't keep on." He pulls her hands to his face and she finds her hands cupping his cheeks, his palms pressing her tightly to his face. He closes his eyes, looking relieved. She'd known him more than twenty years, but tonight was the first time they'd touched each other so intimately, her hand on his cheek, his thumb grazing her lips. She could already see that he wanted more. Couldn't stop reaching for her, latching on, insistent, needy. Despite his state, she feels the pull of arousal, low in her belly.

The knock on the door interrupts them and Olivia gently twists her hands away, leaves his side to let Ayanna in. The younger woman gives her a wary glance, the distrust apparent.

"Thanks again for calling me."

"It's your op," Olivia assures her and means it. No matter what transpired between them in this past week, Olivia still holds Ayanna in esteem.

She watches Ayanna nod and then let's her in and as they enter they see Elliot unsteady on his feet. He blinks at Ayanna on his left and then his gaze returns to Olivia on his right.

He takes a step towards Olivia, his arm landing heavily across her shoulders again, his face so close to hers that she wonders for a moment if he's going to kiss her or stroke her face or lean into her ear.

Though she's looking at Elliot, she can sense how Ayanna turns away from them, looking elsewhere because the moment seems intimate and her presence intrusive.

Elliot lowers his voice, but not enough and she's sure the sergeant can hear him when he says "Wanna stay."

"Stabler." Ayanna interrupts, and Olivia is grateful for the stern note in her voice, the fact that he heeds it and loosens his grip on her.

Elliot straightens, drops his arm, still staring at Olivia. "Ayanna's got you." She tells him and watches his mouth pull down at the corners.

"Yeah, Elliot." The sergeant says. "Think you can walk?" Her hand wraps around his elbow and she tugs and finally Elliot turns away from Olivia to nod at his partner.

"Let's go." She encourages and they begin to move to the door and they close it behind them without another word.

When Elliot stirs in the morning he's sure he'll find himself in Liv's place. Her face is in his head, though he's half asleep still and the details are foggy. But he lifts his head and finds the picture of Ayanna and her family and remembers his partner showing up to drag him away.

He sits up, rubbing his eyes and trying to remember what happened. He remembers the urgent need to go to her. And he remembers falling into her arms, the way her hair smelled like lavender, the softness of body grasped in his hands. He remembers telling her about the letter and Kathy's involvement, though specifics are lost. But the look on her face when he said 'it would always be you and I'? That look is seared in his brain and he's sure it'll be there until the day he dies.

What he's not sure, is what Liv thought of any of it. Him showing up, everything he had to say to her. He doesn't seem to remember her saying much and he thinks that might make sense, because what was the point of doing much more than listen to him when he was in that state.

He just hopes he hasn't made everything worse.

Olivia spends days lost to the revelations of Elliot's late night visit. Hours lying awake in bed, confused, not knowing where to turn. Distraction tugging at her during meetings and dinners and Noah's dance rehearsals. The letter had been confusing enough. The weeks and months that followed had made everything worse. One whiplash after another.

What we were wasn't real

In a parallel universe it would always be you and I

I can't talk

You mean the world to me

Back off

I love you

Who's telling you that?

I'm looking at apartments

Won't be around for awhile, but don't worry about me

She's exhausted, just run dry and there's nothing left in her to deal with any of it. If he had meant to give her closure, then yes the letter worked. But if he wasn't trying to walk away then the letter was the worst possible decision. He told her he was leaving the choice in her hands. But she wouldn't have known that if he hadn't told her himself. Typical Elliot, always sticking his foot in things.

The thing is, in certain ways she knows Elliot, like the back of her hand. No matter what any of her squad thinks, there are some elements of this man that she will always be sure of; his loyalty, his moral code. She knows everyone's heart is in the right place, and she loves them for it truly. Appreciates that they're just trying to make sure she's seeing clearly, trying to protect her after everything they've watched her go through.

But she knows Elliot and trusts him. Plain and simple. Ten years apart hasn't changed it. The way he left hasn't changed it. There are certain ways she knows he'll have her back, never lie to her face, at least when it comes to the work.

It's the rest of it she's less sure of. The question of what's in his heart has been the riddle of her relationship with him. She loved him, had for a long time. But did he love her the same way? Some days she was sure that he did. The rest of the time she knew he was her friend, but wasn't clear on anything else.

When he'd left it had made her think she'd blown everything out of proportion. Had assumed their relationship was more than it was. Had thought that maybe she could trust him unequivocally as her partner, but maybe not at all as her friend.

The pattern of her life was not people who loved her, people who took care of her. The pattern of her life was people who never really cared enough, who put themselves first. Elliot had been the exception to all of it. And when he left so abruptly, when he fit the pattern of every other relationship, it had hurt, but she had thought yes, it makes sense.

To read that letter had made her think maybe there was a time he cared, and then a time where he stopped caring. Maybe she wasn't alone in it before, but maybe she was alone in it now. It made her wonder yet again if she'd done something wrong, driven him away, like she'd been so certain in those first days.

Back then, the cut off of contact had hurt her deeply. But she hung on to a hope that one day, he may reappear as abruptly as he'd disappeared. And then Lewis happened and he didn't call and she knew that if he had cared at one time, he just didn't anymore. Somehow she made peace with that. Accepted that even if he didn't love her, didn't care, he was still there for a time in her life when she needed him. She tried to hold on to the beauty of that. Appreciate that for a little while, she wasn't alone. He had given her a lot, no matter his motives for it. And even if it ended, it had still been something to her and maybe that was enough.

But when he came back she had to admit the peace she'd made with Elliot was reliant on his absence. The full technicolor reality of his presence was something she had still not dealt with. And she's beginning to realize that she won't be able to deal with it until he's actually present again, not hiding undercover. Certainly it wasn't something she could confront when he's glad not to be living his own life.

So Olivia decides that the next time she sees Elliot Stabler, she'll force him to finally come clean with her. She'll make him tell her everything, leave no stone unturned. And while she's at it, she'll give him a piece of her mind.