This is one of my favourite chapters! It started off as one but got really long so I've split it into 8 and 9. These two chapters are very much about Olivia and Elliot, but I promise, I will get back to the burton storyline after and Elliot will be involved in sorting that out.

I hope you enjoy!

Trigger warnings for the Lewis arc.

As always, mistakes are my own and I love reviews so feel free to let me know what you think.

Chapter 8

They stand there, in each other's arms for what seems like hours. He strokes her hair as she leans silently against him, shielding her face in a feeble attempt to conceal her tears.

He can feel her tears on his shirt though but doesn't say a word knowing that she needs this. They both need this. The silence. It's always been their love language. So much can be said without a single word being uttered. A glance. A touch. Is all it takes sometimes.

Slowly, she begins to pull away. Still holding onto him, her arms around his waist. She looks up at him and whispers a barely audible Thank you.

At that, she lets go of him and walks backward finally resting on the benchtop behind her.

"You look exhausted." He says, genuinely concerned that the woman has not slept in a week. "I should go, let you get some rest."

As he begins to turn away from her, making his way around the coffee table, headed for the door, she can feel her chest tighten. Her eyes go wide, if just for a second.

"No" she says, a little too fast. A little too panicked.

"Stay. Please. I just… I don't want you to leave. I can't be alone right now."

He is looking at her now. His faces unsuccessfully hiding his worry. He wants to stay. Of course, he does. He will sleep on the couch if just to be near her. He will sleep beside her and hold her if that is what she wants him to do.

His worry is not just for her now but for what has led to this. The Olivia, he knew ten years ago would never have expressed such a vulnerability. She could sleep anywhere, anytime, without a second thought to her surroundings. She loved being alone. Could handle herself in every situation. Not that she couldn't now, but now its not just that she doesn't want to be alone, she seems petrified at even the mention of him leaving.

"Of course, Liv, I'm happy to stay."

Knowing, she may have to explain herself at some point, she looks at him, thankful that that point is not tonight. He will stay and he won't ask her why and she is beyond grateful.

"Thank you" she says. "You can sleep on the couch if that's okay. It's actually pretty comfortable. I'll get you some blankets and a pillow".

She turns and walks to her hallway closet to retrieve the linen. When she returns, he is still standing there, right where she left him. Halfway between the armchair and the door. Looking at her. Watching her.

"Here, let me get that" he offers, taking a few steps toward her, relieving her of the bedding.

He places it on the couch and turns back to her, grabbing her hand. She looks up at him, "Thank you for staying" she whispers, knowing she means more than tonight.

"I'm not going anywhere" he responds.

They exchange one last look, a look of comfort, a look of gratitude. A look of fear. Fear for each other and fear of the outside world. For now, though, they are here. In the safety of her apartment. In the comfort of each other's presence. And for tonight that is enough.

Turning away, she walks toward her bedroom, slips inside and closes the door.

It has been a few hours since Liv went to bed and he is lying there, on her couch. His eyes wandering their way around her living room. He is analysing it. Taking in every detail. He takes his time, looking at every photo on the walls, every book on the bookshelf. He takes in the furniture. The candles next to the TV. The fruit bowl on her dining table.

He remembers back to their time before. Before he left. She had a fruit bowl then as well. It didn't have fruit in it though. It was a gift from Lizzie. She had made it in art class. A clay bowl painted a rather unfortunate shade of orange. Liv loved it though. Always had it proudly displayed on her kitchen bench for all to see. She wouldn't put fruit in it. She had made that mistake a few times. They'd get caught up in a case and she wouldn't be home for days and she would return to a house which smelled of rotting fruit. A smell which is remarkably had to get rid of. Since then, the bowl had provided a good spot to place her keys and a few other nick nacks.

I guess now, she has another person to help eat the fruit. He thought, readjusting his body to stare up at the ceiling.

She has a kid. Olivia Benson is a mother. It hasn't quite sunken in yet. She had always been great with his kids. Better than he had in fact. She always bought them the best presents, even if it was on his behalf most of the time. She was genuinely happy when she heard of their successes. Whether it be winning a soccer match, getting elected school captain or even speaking their first worst, as was the case with Eli, she always had the most joyful and excited smile on her face.

Now she had a kid of her own. Elliot knew that kid was one of the luckiest people in the world. Olivia loved that boy more than anything in the known universe. Even the slightest mention of him and her face would light up. He always knew she would be a great mum but seeing it is another thing entirely.

Since Elliot has been back, he has noticed her at times, happier than he ever saw her before. But he has also noticed at times, a deep sadness, a darkness which certainly wasn't there when they were partners, he's sure of that.

He is afraid of to ask why. The answer is surely something that will keep him up at night. It's probably what Fin meant. He had scared her. It was probably why she asked him to stay tonight. He wants to know. He wants to be able to do something to defend her against that look in her eye. To protect her, but knowing will probably come with the realisation that he hadn't protected her in the first place. He had left. Something had happened and he was no where to be found.

It is her story to tell him if she wants to. He won't push but, when… if she tells him, he will listen.

She had gotten some sleep but not much. She rolls over to look at her clock. The red digital numbers read 3:57am. She really wants to go back to sleep but she can't. She knows she is safe, knows that nothing bad is going to happen to her as long as that man is asleep on her couch. But a part of her is afraid. Its irrational but that doesn't mean shit.

It was times like these, when she couldn't sleep because of a case or because of her extreme consumption of caffeine that she would just get up and go for a run. The early morning in New York was always peaceful. Although the city never slept, it certainly did have its moods and this one was calm. The noise had died down enough that all of the possibilities of the next day would spring hope. Now though, as she lay here in her bed, going for a middle of the night run wasn't exactly an option. Not only would she get a stern talking to about the dangers of New York at night by the cop in her living room, she also wasn't exactly a runner anymore. Walking was more her thing.

He needs to know, she thought. Lewis.

His name had been making an appearance today. Out of nowhere, the mental barrier she had built between herself, and the memories of the monster would faulter. A gust of wind would feel like his hand grasping her chin. A car horn would sound exactly like the bullet he used to shoot himself. A child's gleeful scream at the playground would sound like Amelia. At one point, she had to throw away a perfectly good coffee because it felt like the vodka sliding down her throat.

It was one of those day. She was tired. Exposed. Whilst Burton was the root of her exhaustion, he didn't even cross her mind, as she lay there staring now, at her ceiling, the green light of her fire alarm blinking slowly in the corner, creating a beat which almost matched her breath.

Elliot was surely asleep in her living room. Hopefully sleeping peacefully but likely not. She had seen the concern on his face. He didn't ask but she knew he wanted to. She'd wanted him to stay because the one memory of Lewis she was most afraid of was threatening to surface. The darkness.

Being alone in the dark never used to be an issue. She had liked the solitude it brought. But now, on days like today, darkness wasn't simply a lack of light. On days like today, darkness meant the pills, the vodka, the incoherence, the confusion. The missing time. The time when Lewis had ultimate control. Control over her mind and control over her body. She never liked to think out those times, those times she can't remember, those times he had her. All of her. But, in the darkness, she didn't really have a choice in the matter.

Her mind is wondering. Thoughts and flashes threatening to consume her. She needs to stop it. She needs to get this out of her head. She wants to tell him.

It's almost cruel. A punishment of sorts. She has long since abandoned the 'what if' argument. What if he had been there? What if he had checked on her after the case fell through? What if…

She has forgiven him for not being there, but she knows that he will likely never forgive himself. The Catholic in him will suffer through the guilt as penance.

She wants to tell him. Not for him, but for her. She needs to get this out of her head and needs him to know how she has changed since he left.

Having made a decision, she slips out of bed and grabs the blanket resting at the foot of her bed. She wraps the pale blue blanket around herself and walks out into the living room. Elliot is still asleep on the couch. His head facing the door as any cop would do. He looks peaceful. Not a word often used to describe the man but one he deserved to claim. She doesn't want to wake him, so she just sits in the armchair opposite him. Looking at him. Her eyes trace the shape of his face. There is enough light coming in from the street that she can see all of his lines. Old and new.

He has no hair on his face and a little too much on his jaw. He is wearing his undershirt and the blanket she gave him is resting up to his waist. His left arm rests on his chest while his right is tucked up beneath his head. Asleep, this man is far less intimidating, she thinks.

His eyes begin to blink. He is still lying down but now he is looking back at her, silently staring.

"Do you want to go for a walk" she proffers is an almost childlike manner.

He is sitting up now, the blanket still covering his legs and both of his hands gripping the edge of the couch.

"Now?" he questions, a look of innocent confusion gracing his face. "It's four in the morning."

"I know, I just… need to be outside." She responds, her voice resembling that of a child arguing their right to dessert. She is smiling now, knowing that his parenting instincts are kicking in and he is likely to begin explaining to her how its not safe to be outside, on the streets of New York, the late… or early in the morning.

But instead, he smiles with her.

"Sure" he says as he gets up and walks toward the dining table, where he had hung his shirt on one of the chairs. As he gets up and pushes the blanket aside, she notices that he is wearing only his boxers and she can't but stare at his ass. If only for a second, it definitely improves her mood.

Before he turns around, she gets up out of the armchair and heads to her room to change out of her pyjama's and into some sweats.

When she returns, Elliot is standing at her door, having already adorned his coat. He is holding hers out, ready to help her put it on. As she slides her arms in and adjusts her oat around her shoulders, he lets out a slight chuckle.

"What so funny?" she inquires, a smirk evident on her face.

"Nothing" he says smiling, "It's just I never thought I see you in a bright yellow oversized beanie"

Chuckling now as well, she responds. "It was a gift, from Noah. And its bloody warm so you can fuck off" she says, playfully.

"Yes ma'am" he chokes out mid-laugh, throwing his hands up in surrender.

He moves to open the door, holding it for her.

"So, where are we going anyway?"

You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?" she quips as she walks pat him, thoroughly enjoying his lack of control.