part I: a glass has a fate/it's to shatter

She's dreaming. She's running on a beach in the early morning, and it takes no effort. Her body, mostly bare, feels strong and healthy. Her skin is warm, and the smell of the sea is intoxicating. She feels completely safe. And that's when she feels it. Someone is behind her. She doesn't turn around to see yet because it's not dangerous and she feels so powerful, so in control. "Olivia," she hears. She recognizes the voice immediately, but she's not ready to stop. Soon, she thinks. Soon she will stop and go to him, but not yet. She can't just yet. There is time. She just needs to get a little further, so she picks up speed. She hears her name again, and the sound is much further away this time. She stops, finally, and turns around. She can barely make out his form for the distance she has put between them. She sees him run towards her, and she does the same, but it seems the more they run, the farther apart they get. The last thing she sees, before she is brutally pulled from sleep, is the sea swallowing him up.

It's the jarring sound of her phone vibrating on her nightstand that wakes her. She bolts upright, orienting herself, and reaches over to look at her screen.

A text message from Elliot.

Two words: I'm home.

She's sitting by the window, taking in the moments before the nighttime ends and the day breaks. A mug of tea is cocooned in both hands. She made it ages ago and its certainly cold now, but she doesn't even notice. It's a tool, something to ground her. There is a song playing softly from the Alexa speaker in her bedroom. Occasionally she hears a voice she recognizes, or the whine of a stringed instrument, but mostly she is oblivious to that, too.

I want you to come home. Before Eddie Wagner takes over, and Elliot Stabler is nowhere to be found.

She closes her eyes and remembers her hand on the underside of his face, the part undisturbed by the beard he'd grown when he decided to leave. Again. She understands, she thinks, because she knows him. Knows how he processes things, how he works through his demons. She'd been upset at first, triggered even, but then found herself a little relieved to sort out her feelings without his looming presence. Despite his little surprise visit, which fucked her up good for a few weeks, she'd been working through it.

Now they can't avoid it. All the walls, the boundaries left, are self-imposed. She knows it. He knows it. And yet the question remains: What comes next?

When the sun finally makes her appearance, she stands up and goes to wake her sleeping boy.

By the time she arrives at the squad room at 8 am, she's been up for hours and thinks there is not enough coffee in the world to help her get through the day. She hopes it will be a quiet one, and she almost laughs to herself then, because there is never a "quiet" day at SVU. Even when they don't have a walk-in or a call, there are mounds of paperwork waiting, drops ins by the higher ups, or progress to be made on open cases. Fin is already at his desk when she arrives. He looks up, gives her a smile that says I know something you don't, without so much as a word, then looks back down at his file. Amanda is walking back to her desk, steaming mug in hand, as she says, "Mornin', Captain," and gives her the same smile. Too tired to even inquire, Olivia purses her lips and shakes her head a little, thinking maybe her squad has finally lost it. She notices then that her office light is on and her door is wide open. She turns back to eye Fin and Amanda, who are now oblivious to her.

As soon as she crosses the threshold, though, she sees him. A wide smile immediately adorns her face.

"Rafa, what-" She doesn't get to finish before he has already pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Olivia," he says. "Its so good to see you."

"This is the best way to start my morning. I was not expecting this," she says to Rafael, as they finally step apart.

"You look good, Olivia. I love your hair like this," he says, as he reaches for it and flips out the ends. "It's…lighter?" he asks.

He always notices things like this. It makes him different and wonderful, and she simply says, "It is."

"And how is Noah?" he asks.

"He's good. Really good. Growing so fast, Rafa. It almost feels like if I blink, he'll be off to college. He will be happy to see you," Olivia answers.

Rafael smiles.

"I can't wait. And I was hoping I could catch you before you got too wrapped in your day. One, to tell you that I miss you. And two, to see if you were free to have a drink this evening. We need to catch up," he says.

The way he says "need" gives her pause, but then she remembers Rafael is a bit dramatic, and she is just so happy to see him she dismisses it.

"Today is good, actually. Noah's dance class isn't over until 8, so how about we meet at 6?" The unless there is a crisis part is always understood, so Rafael nods.

"Great. I'll text you later to confirm and we can decide where. That work?" he asks.

"Perfect," she says, as she steps in to hug him again. "I'm so happy to see you, Rafa. It's been…an interesting time. And I miss you, too, so much," she says.

"Yes," he says, with one of his classic smirks. " I've heard a certain someone is back. I can't wait to hear all about it."

"Not you, too," she says, but its light and loving.

"Oh, you know me. I won't grill you. Well, unless you're paying me to," he retorts, and she laughs at that.

The day passes more quickly than she anticipates. Apart from Rafael's visit, there are no surprises. After she ribs her squad for their little charade that morning, they had spent time updating files and huddled about updates for the Chief of D's. Velasco was at a system-induced trauma training for a few days, and Amanda had left early to take the girls for their flu shots.

At around 5:15, Rafael texts her to confirm their meeting time and place. She is packing up when Fin comes in to say goodnight.

"Liv, you need anything?" he asks. "It's pretty quiet, so I thought I'd cut out. Phoebe likes to have me home for dinner every once in a while."

Olivia smiles at that and is struck by a sudden wave of affection for the man who had been by her side for so many years now. She trusts him like a brother and is so happy for the life he has made for himself.

"Everything is good, Fin. You go home. Enjoy your evening," she answers.

"Cool," Fin says. Before existing, his hand grips the door frame, and he turns back to her. "Hey, Liv?"

"Yeah?" she says.

"You good? I mean, you know, you good? I heard Stabler's out, so" he cuts himself off.

Olivia sighs, setting her bag down for a moment. "Honestly, Fin, I don't know. I know I am glad he is home. And I think I believe he is here to stay, but aside from that," her voice trails off.

"Yeah, I know. Well, you know I got your back, right? I always got your back, Liv," he says. He smiles at her but looks serious, too.

She returns his smile. "I know. Thanks, Fin. Give my love to Phoebe."

Fins snorts. "Listen I don't mention you much to Phoebe," he says. "Every time I say your name, she remembers some guy she knows and goes on and on about how the two of you would hit it off. I swear she missed her calling as a matchmaker, and besides, she would be wasting any poor bastard's time," he says. Before Olivia can even respond, he's calling, "Night, Captain," over his shoulder.

Fuck, she thinks, as she shakes her head and grabs her bag to follow him out.

Winter is approaching quickly, and its obvious the minute she steps out of the precinct. Its getting dark so early now. She pulls her coat tighter around her body and the cold air feels sharp. Strands of her hair blow across her mouth and stick to her lips as she hails a cab. The restaurant is a bit too far to make it there on time by foot, and anyway, she finds herself more tired at the end of the day now. She slides into the cab and gives the driver the name of the place. Just then, her phone vibrates in her pocket, and she pulls it out to see who's calling.

Elliot's name lights up on her screen. She hesitates a moment, takes a deep breath, and then answers.

"Elliot?" she says.

"Liv. Hi," he replies.

"Hi back," she answers. Silence, then, "So, you're home?"

"I am." He says. "Safely, I might add."

Olivia smiles. She hopes he can hear it in her voice. "I'm glad, Elliot."

"I promised you," he says, and he wonders if she can hear the "I'll never break a promise to you again, Liv," he doesn't say.

The cab stops in front of the restaurant, and Olivia isn't ready to end the conversation but isn't ready to continue it either, so she says, "Elliot, I just arrived at a restaurant and someone is waiting for me, so I have to go."

"Okay," he says, sounding little – actually, a lot – disappointed. "Okay, Liv. I…we will talk soon, then," he says.

"We will, Elliot. I promise," she says. "Have a good night," and she doesn't wait for a response before she ends the call.

Elliot stares down at his phone for a moment. He rakes his hand over his now smooth chin and snaps his eyes shut.

He can see her then. Or at least, what he imagines she looks like after a long day at work on her way to meet someone.

He thinks she looks the most beautiful she ever has. Her hair is maybe the longest he's ever seen it. Her presence is so commanding and, dare he say it, sexy. She seems so confident in her own skin. And the knowledge that she is a mother, how radiant she looked that morning after dropping her son off at school, it does something to him.

The last time he'd seen her, she had touched his face and told him she wanted him to come home. They always communicated without words, and she had spoken a million things to him by just holding his gaze for a few seconds. Watching her walk away, not knowing exactly when he would see her again, had been so painful. He knows he deserves it – he deserves for her to walk away from him over and over again, like some judgment from the gods for what he put her through.

You were the single most important person in my life, and you just…disappeared.

He's a selfish son of a bitch, and he can't believe she's even let him back into her life.

Elliot tumbles back onto the bed and lays in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. He's a mess, and he knows it. One minute he's angry, the next he misses being Eddie Wagner (what kind of fucked up shit is that, he thinks), and the next he's on the verge of tears. He knows his family can tell, and god knows he's trying to pull himself together, but everything is such a mess. It feels like a single thread in whatever fabric of life had held him together for so long has come loose, and he just can't stop it from unraveling further.

There is a soft knock on the door. At first, he doesn't answer. Maybe they will think I'm asleep, he thinks. The another knock, and finally the door opens slowly.

"Honey?" Elliot hears, and for a moment, he thinks its Kathy's voice, but only for a moment.

"Elliot?" Bernie says, a little louder this time.

Elliot sits up. "Hi, Mama."

"Hi, honey," she says and sits next to him on the bed.

He doesn't say anything else, and Bernie doesn't either. She just moves closer to him. He lets his headrest on her shoulder, and she gently strokes his hair. Finally, he breaks and let's her catch his fall.

She can feel herself slipping into darkness, and its familiar and foreign all at once. After Lewis, it was nearly all she knew. Lindstrom, and Ed, helped her find her way out. And then she was figuring out how to mother, friend, and boss, and she didn't have time or energy to do much else. The day would end, sometimes well after midnight, with her collapsing in her bed, too tired to even get out of her work clothes. She'd wake up at 4 or 5 am, go into the bathroom, wash her face and brush her teeth, and strip down, still avoiding looking at her body in the mirror for long. The scars had faded, some barely visible by then, but it was still too painful sometimes and she never knew when "sometimes" would happen. By the time she pulled a clean t-shirt over her head and slipped into comfy pants, she was too awake to fall back asleep, and there was so much to do around the house anyway.

And this is how it went on for years. Until it didn't. Eventually, she'd fallen into a rhythm of it all, carving out more time to be with herself. She'd be sitting in bed, reading a book, or on the sofa with the television at a low volume watching some show, when she'd hear it, almost like a whisper. It usually hit late in the evening, hours after she's tucked her son into bed, kissed him on the forehead, and wished him sweet dreams. She'd shake her head, pinch the bridge of her nose, and refuse to allow it to take hold. She had paid too much money on therapy and worked too hard on her recovery to go back there. She had to actively fight it, for her son and for herself.

Even when she was confronted with the truth about Burton, and the whispers threatened to consume her once more, she fought. Hard.

Rafael had told her that he would be defending Wheatley. At first, she really thought he was pranking her. He wanted her to know first, from him, that he had accepted the case. That his job was to make sure that Wheatley got a good defense, and that he had made mistakes before, but he wanted to be transparent with Olivia because he knew about her history with Elliot.

"How do all my worlds collide in such chaotic fashion?" she asked, out loud, but barely, and Rafael had grabbed her hands then.

"Olivia," he had said. "Look at me. I have made mistakes before. Let my boundaries become unclear. I will not make that mistake again. I know the law. I know how to do my job. And I know how much I care for you, and you know that too, and I am telling you that I can do both," he said.

"Rafael, why?" she had asked. She had looked broken then, so sad that he had almost called Wheatley and backed out.

"He came to me, Olivia. Said he was looking for the best defense money could buy. I didn't know a lot at that point. The more I learned, the more I knew I had to see you. Tell you first. But Olivia. Liv, please look at me," Rafael pleaded.

She did then, and he could see, even more clearly, how defeated she looked.

"Olivia. If you tell me you don't want me to take this case, I won't. I won't," he had said.

"Rafa, I-" she had tried to speak.

"I mean it," he had said. "I won't.

Olivia wanted so badly to tell him to back out. She wanted to tell him everything she had been feeling since Elliot had resurfaced. She hadn't talked to anyone about it really, and he was usually a safe harbor for her. But now, she couldn't. And she was sad about that and shocked by this news, and it just felt like she had no stable ground underneath her feet.

But she also knew that too many people – too many good people in her life – had crossed lines for her, even though the person she wanted the most hadn't chosen her.

At least, not yet.

No, she couldn't ask that. She wouldn't.

And now, she feels herself slipping into that dark place again, and she feels powerless to stop it. For the first time in a very long time, Olivia feels completely alone.

She remembers Don saying to her, when he told her that Munch had put his papers in, "Nothing changes except what has to" and she almost wants to laugh, if bitterly. Wasn't that the fucking truth? One moment, she is driving to her award's ceremony, and the next there's Elliot, showing up like a ghost who suddenly became corporeal. Hurricane Elliot had certainly made a dramatic entrance. There was a funeral, a shootout, an intervention, and more, all while she tried to hold together the pieces of her life and keep people in it, even though they left anyway. Her future, which she thought had become clearer for her than it had ever been, was once again a black highway at night.

She's furious then. She won't do this. Not anymore. If he wants her the way she's always wanted him, he needs to prove it. She can sit idly by while the darkness swallows her, and the sea consumes him, or whatever shit her dream was telling her, or she can draw a line in the sand.

She decides on the latter, because fuck parallel universes. But first, she needs to tell him where she stands.

Olivia picks up her cell and texts Elliot: "I need to see you. Tonight."