I ghost him for months. Just like he ghosted me for 10 years and 6 months if we count the undercover mission. No phone call, text, voice-mail answered. They started coming later that night of our fight. Started with how sorry he was and then kept growing.

I probably get one voice-mail at least once a week. I stopped listening to them after the third one came in, and started hitting the delete button. He had done it to me, hadn't listened to any of them and fuck him. He can have the same shit he gave me.

For the most part he sends a text at least once a day. Either an apology or a hope that I'm doing well. Has even asked Noah and i over to dinner with his a family a few times. I read them, just never respond.

He went as far as showing up at my work one morning. I happened to be leaving with Amanda, right as he was coming up the steps with two cups of coffee in his hands. I don't know what he wanted, what he was expecting after two months of silence but Amanda was quick to make sure he didn't get a chance to speak to me and I just made sure I kept walking like he wasn't even there. He had watched me walk by, had opened his mouth to speak but had changed his mind and just watched me get into the car. I watched him through the mirror throw both of the cups of coffee into the trash and walk away slumped over.

And God, that just about fucking broke me. Like it wasn't hard enough to ghost him and he shows up looking like a goddamn puppy dog. I'm not exactly sure why I'm ghosting him. For revenge? To be spiteful? Either way, it's killing me. I cry almost every night. My pillow has become stained with tears. I didn't sleep much before and now? It barely even happens.

After three months, Fin sends me home. When I'm so exhausted, so broken, that I can barely focus on the victims statement, it's a fucking issue. He had told me to go home, get some sleep, get it together. There really was no way I could deny it. I'm no help at work when I'm like this anyways.

As I sit down on my bed to remove my shoes, my phone starts buzzing on my side table. I glance at it, see Elliot's name and fuck. I ignore every fiber in my being that is telling me to just fucking answer it already and head to the shower, in hope that that will help me get some much needed sleep.

When I'm out of the shower, wrapped in my towel, I go to delete his voice-mail that I know he left but click on the text that pops up first.

Hey. Eli, Dickie and I are going fishing tomorrow. I know you don't want to see me but I miss that boy of yours and was wondering if Noah could come with us. I left a voice mail explaining everything, if you want to listen to it. We're leaving on the boat at 10am at the station on 79th. Please, just let me see him.

Let him see him? Noah isn't his to see. But that's not fair. Not fair to Noah because honestly he's been asking about Elliot for about a month now and I've been deflecting his questions. I never wanted to be a mother who deprived my son of seeing people. Unless those people are dangerous. And Elliot isn't dangerous, he's just an asshole. An asshole who is just trying to be here. For not only me, but for my son as well. Fuck.

My finger hovers over the voice-mail for a few seconds before I finally give in and click on it.

It's me. I'm sure you don't even listen to these things and I get it, I do. I just was wondering if there was anyway I could see Noah? It's been months and I miss him too. We're going fishing tomorrow, the boating dock on 79th Street and I would love to take him, if it's okay with you. You can even come too, if you would like. It's just gonna be us boys but you're welcome to join if you're not comfortable letting me have him by myself. I, um, if he's or both of you guys are going to come, make sure you're dressed in warm clothes. It's getting warmer but it's still pretty cold on the water. I'll bring all the fishing stuff for him and food and drinks, so you don't have to worry about that. And, uh, if he has waterproof shoes, like rain boots or snow boots. That would be best, don't want his feet to get wet. Gloves too, I guess that would be included in the warm clothes... so yeah, it would be great if he could come. If you both can come. We're leaving at 10am, so I'll wait for you.

Goddammit. There's already tears in my eyes because the man wants to see my son. He's reaching out this time because he misses my son. Even if I'm not willing to see him, he asking if he can see Noah. And do I really want to deprive Noah of Elliot? Elliot was so good to him, so good for him and shit.

He left me a voice mail last night also. One of those ones I have forgotten to delete due, most likely, to my lack of sleep. I'm not sure if it's the emotion I feel from the first one or if it's because I want to hear his voice again but I don't even think twice when my finger hits the play button.

Liv. I get why you're doing this, I really do. And I get it, I fucking get it, okay? I know how I feel right now and it's only been three months and you went ten years. You deserved more. You've always deserved more. Just please, we can be whatever you want to be. If something more is completely out of the picture, I'll, um..." He pauses then and God the amount of pure emotion in his voice makes the tears in my eyes fall. He's crying. Elliot Stabler is crying over the possibility that he will never have anything more than a friendship with me and Jesus, if that realization doesn't make me cry harder. It's the same reason I cry almost every night into my pillow. "I'll accept that. Because I, I just miss you. I missed you so much the last 10 years and I finally got to see you and talk to you and touch you. And now I'm going through it all over again and shit, it hurts. This hurts. And I'm so fucking sorry I hurt you like this. Just...umm I'm probably running out of time and I was just trying to say that I want to see you. I'll be at the bridge tonight at 8, if you want to meet. I'll wait..."

For you. Oh my God. Oh. My. God. How many times had the man waited for me in random places the last three months while I've been deleting every single one of his voice-mails? A lot? Is it bad that I hope it's a lot? Because, God the fucker deserves to feel what I felt. But Jesus, I'm feeling it too and fuck he had not only hurt me when he left the way he did, he hurt himself as well. This was a two way street. Yes, he at least knew he was leaving but he had to live with that. Had to live with the knowledge that he broke me and had broken himself too.

I want to call him back, I want to get in my car and drive to him but I'm too physically exhausted to do any of those two things. My voice is probably horse from crying, my eyes are heavy and my pillows sound so good right now. I'll ask Noah when he gets home from school if he would like to join them and if he does, when he does because I know he's going to want to, I'll let him go.

EO

I don't know why New York traffic is never on my fucking side. Never. No matter how early we leave, we're always late. It's pushing 9:50 and we're still technically 10 minutes out and that's if we hit every light green. Noah is in the back seat snuggled into the warmest clothes I could find for him, his black rain boots in my trunk because they're filthy and I like to keep my car clean. He's talking about how excited he is about catching a fish and I'm glad he's excited. Really glad but catching fish? I will definitely pass on that.

I haven't responded to Elliot because I thought it would be a nice surprise to just show up. I'm over avoiding him. I never said I didn't want to see him, I just said that this thing between us will never be anything more than a friendship. And I'm having a hard fucking time justifying that decision right now when all I want is him.

Every time I think of the possibility of the man between my legs, my body tingles and fuck, why am I denying myself of that tingle ever being satisfied? Because I have a very good feeling that Elliot will have absolutely no problem satisfying me. Over and over again. And God, I want him to. Eventually want him to.

And like clockwork, my phone is ringing from its spot on my counsel. I chew my bottom lip contemplating if I should answer it or not but Noah's voice telling me to answer it because it's Elliot, makes me cave, "Hey."

"Liv, hi." I can hear the emotion in his voice. The relief of what it's like to finally hear my voice again.

"We're coming, well he's coming. But we're caught in traffic and won't be there for probably another 15-20 minutes. Is that okay?" Like I even need to ask that question.

"Yeah, yes. Of course. We'll wait."

Of course he will. "Thanks."

"No, Liv. Thank you."

10:30. Fucking 10:30 is what time I'm finally finding a spot to park. The traffic in this city sometimes is way too much. We see him, well them, almost instantly. Just like he sees us instantly as well. He's already at Noah's door before I even get all the way out the car to get his boots and as I hand them to Noah to put on, I say, "Sorry we're late. Traffic was not on my side this morning."

"That's okay, I'm glad you guys could come. I mean... are you coming too?"

He must already know the answer to that question because I'm wearing a thin long sleeve, jeans and sneakers. I am definitely not dressed for a day on the cold water. "No. Me on a boat in the cold? I'll pass. Gonna run some errands. What time will you guys be back?"

"Around 6, if that's okay."

"Yeah, that's fine. Do you want me to get him or...?" I'm secretly hoping he chooses the or option because that means maybe we'll have some alone time to talk. Some time to try to move forward again. Because fuck, we need to move forward again.

"I can bring him home if that's easier for you."

"I would appreciate it."

"Okay." He's looking at me like he doesn't know if he should touch me or not. I can see that he's happy, thankful that I'm here and I know he wants to say more to me but Noah is still pulling his boots on and right now is not the time to talk or hash it out again. Which ever is to come.

"Ready," Noah says and damn, perfect timing.

"Alright," I say, stepping out of his way so he can get out of the car. "Have fun, listen to Elliot and catch a big one."

"You got it, mom."

"Love you, baby."

"Mom!"

I put my hands up in defense. My baby doesn't like to be referred to as baby anymore. "Sorry. Still love you."

"Love you too, mom."

And with that he's walking away from the two us and heading towards Eli and Dickie. "Just make sure he doesn't fall in the water please."

"You got nothing to worry about. I'll put his life vest on."

"Alright. Well, see you guys when you get back."

"Okay, thanks for letting him come."

It's awkward between us but really what do I expect when I just ghosted him for three months. "Thanks for inviting him. He's been asking for you."

He nods but still doesn't make a move to walk towards the three boys waiting for him on the boat and I know it's because he's terrified of not getting another chance to say something of substance to me.

"We'll talk later, Elliot."

His eyes bare into mine. Those icy blues and God, I've missed them, so much. They carry so much hope in them and I already feel myself getting lost in them once more. "We will?"

"We will. Now go take them fishing."

He gives me a smile, that look, and fuck, those butterflies, and turns to walk away from me. I give them all a wave before getting into my car without a second look back. Because Elliot is Elliot and I trust him with my son's life, just as much as I trust him with mine.

EO

I'm vacuuming under my couch when I hear the knock on the door and the turning of the lock. Noah's standard announcement that it's him at the door. I'm not sure when I became such a fucking neat freak but God, I hate things being dirty. I need organization in my life, at both work and home, to keep my sanity. And since I didn't work today and Noah wasn't home, it was the perfect time to put everything in their place.

I almost about trip jogging towards the door because I do not need their nasty fishing boots on my clean floor, "Take your shoes off!" My hand catches the door before they push it open all the way and I use my body to block them both from entering. I am not playing and Noah knows it.

"She cleaned the floors," Noah says as he bends down to take hits boots off.

I look at Elliot because if he's coming in, his need to come off too but I can see the look of uncertainty on his face. He doesn't know if he's going to be allowed in and he doesn't want to make any assumptions. I kind of find it endearing but I mostly find it sad. Sad that I made us take three giant step backwards when we could have been so much farther ahead by now. "Yours too."

He smiles at me and doesn't even hesitate bending down to remove his too. He follows Noah, places them softly in the corner of my entry closet on a plastic rug. It doesn't get used often, most of the time our shoes getting taken off in our bedrooms but when my floors or freshly done? No one is putting their shoes on it, no one.

They both smell like salt water and fish and I barely catch Noah right when he's about to fall on the couch, "Do not sit on the couch either." Those are clean too, dammit.

"Uhh, mom!"

"Your bed either " The sheets are washed too. "Actually, just go take a shower. Don't touch anything."

"Mom, you're being over the top right now," he says as he starts to make his way to his room.

Maybe I am. Maybe. But minus my house shopping today, I've spent most of the day scrubbing and just let me enjoy it without anything smelling like fish for one day. "Bathroom. I'll bring you clothes."

"Mom!"

"Noah, please. Look how clean it is," I gesture around me dramatically, "It's almost sparkling."

That makes him smile, "I can get my own clothes."

I struggle with this aspect of parenting. I love to watch him grow, love to watch him learn new things, love to watch him become an individual but letting go of the fact that he's no longer a baby, is so hard. My only baby, growing up too fast. "Okay, but try not to touch a lot of stuff."

"K, mom."

I don't turn to look at Elliot until Noah is in the bathroom with the door closed and the look of disbelief and humor on his face makes me laugh. "Shut up."

"You have OCD, Benson?" He finds it humorous and I'm glad we can at least start off with a laugh. God it doesn't matter how long him and I stay apart, intentional or not, we will always have this between us.

"When it comes to my clean house? Yes. So you come with me." I really hope he doesn't think he's going to be able to sit anywhere without a shower and clean clothes either.

I see him cock his head to the side at me but he follows me down my hallway anyways. Stands at my doorway when I go right towards the drawer that I know carries exactly what I'm looking for. Do I really still have a pair of Elliot's grey sweatpants from 12 years ago? Yes. Yes, I do. And they're actually still in pretty good condition, if I must say so myself. As I toss them in his direction, I say, "I don't think I have anything you can wear for a shirt but..."

I see him eye the sweatpants curiously but luckily he doesn't mention that they are, in fact, his. "I have a tank top on."

I nod, "It better not smell like fish."

"Wow, this really is a thing right now," he chuckles out. He really can't get over the fact that I obsess over my clean house? Well he better learn real fast because Noah did.

"There is nothing wrong with wanting a very clean space once in a while. Now, go take a shower."

He looks at my bathroom, looks back at me, "You want me to smell like you?"

Well, I hadn't really thought about it the fact that it's my vanilla scented soap in there but oh well, Stabler. "If you want to stay for dinner, yes. Is that an issue?" Because if it is, he can leave. It doesn't bother my any. Really... it doesn't.

"No, no. I think you smell delicious."

Jesus Christ. Just the man saying the word delicious does things to me but referring to me as delicious? Any part of me as delicious, fuck. It's been way too long since I've been truly satisfied in the bedroom and goddamn, just the possibility that this man can completely satisfy me makes liquid pool between my legs. I am so fucking stupid for avoiding him these last three months.

I realize I'm just standing here, probably with a stupid look on my face, and he has that dumb ass smirk on his face. Okay, well at least he's not angry with me. I roll my eyes and shove him towards my bathroom. "You can use the grey towel."

"Okay, thanks."

By the time he's in the shower, Noah is out of the shower and I'm thankful I have my eight year old to keep my mind busy because if I didn't I would be fixated on the fact the Elliot, a very naked Elliot, is in my shower using my body wash right now.

Noah tells me all about how many fish they caught and how many they let go, which really doesn't make any sense to me because whats the point of catching them only to release them.

"Because it's fun, mom."

Okay. I guess they just have different definitions of fun than I do. Elliot is just emerging from my room in his old sweatpants that still fit him like a glove and his tank top, his hands full of the towel and other clothes he had on. "Washer," I say looking at my phone. I'm busy ordering food and I'm pretty sure he can figure out how to push the on button on the machine.

I hear the sound of the machine turn on, glance up at him from the kitchen counter to watch him sit next to Noah on the couch. "What you watching?" He asks him.

"I haven't really chosen yet," Noah responds. "You want to see the new Lego project I'm working on?"

"Of course I do."

My eyes follow them as they disappear back down the hallway and right before Elliot enters Noah's room, he looks at me and smiles. I smile back because really, how can I not? My son likes him and he's here with us, even after these last three months, he's here. Just like I was there after 10 years when his wife was killed. This thing between us will always be here, whether we want to admit it or not.

We have Chinese for dinner and Noah talks about everything that has happened since the last time he saw Elliot when we went skiing. With how much he tells him and how many questions he asks Elliot, we aren't going to have to catch up on what we missed in each other's lives during the silence I am to blame for. And when Noah lays down for bed, he asks Elliot to stay and read with us.

When I close the door to Noah's room, I say, "You can sit on the couch. I just want to grab something really fast."

He only nods before heading back down the hallway. When he left, ten years ago, I tried, really tried to get rid of the things I had of his. I can't remember how many times I walked to the dumpster with the box I'm currently reaching for in my hallway closet but I know it was way to many. Each of them ending the same, with me just carrying it back up my stairs. I eventually just shoved it in this spot in the closet when Brian and I first moved in here and here it has stayed. I can't even remember the last time I've looked in it, not even in these three months of silence, in the year he's been back. And if we're going to try this again, really try this again, where I don't flip out and take out the possibility of more, and we try for more, what better person to look at the box of memories of us with.

He's sitting on the couch when I appear from down the hallway and I don't know why the man is still so fucking good looking. He has decided to keep that bald head of his and it's official, I like it. It's not like he had much hair up there anyways and I laugh out loud at the thought.

He raises his eyebrows at me in question. "What's funny?"

"Oh, nothing." When I take a seat next to him, I sit a little closer to him than I intend to. But it's been so long since we've been close to one another once more and I missed him, really missed him. "Just was thinking that it makes since why you kept the shaved head. Not like you have much hair left."

"Hey!" He feigns offense but he laughs anyways. It's the truth and he knows it.

I shrug, "I like it."

"You do?"

"I do."

There's a moment of silence between us and I'm just about to speak when he says, "I'm sorry, Liv. I swear I've never thought that you were a bimbo and I was wrong to bring up your relationship with Tucker. I just, I want..."

"What, Elliot? What is it that you want from me?" Because I know what he wants from me. He's hinted at it and he's admitted to wanting to have sex with me, eventually, but he has yet to really say what he wants from me.

"I want whatever you're willing to give me."

"You sure about that? Because you didn't take the whole just friends, thing very good."

"I know, I know. I, just, you had said for now and I thought we were moving forward and more into something beyond a friendship. And, you're right, I didn't take that being taken away very well. But I accept your decision, I do. I just want to see you and Noah. These last three months have been hell, just like the 10 years apart were, and it's only been three months."

"Yeah, well. You're stronger than I am because I broke already." I couldn't last another day after that voicemail, could barely last another day without that voicemail.

"No, Liv. You've always been stronger. Facing your problems makes you stronger than running from them. That's what I did, I ran. And I was coward."

I nod. Because he's right. He really was a coward. I look down at the box in my hand, look back up at him and set it in between us. When he looks at it with question I say, "A box of us."

He smiles gently, "I have one too." I was not expecting that, at all. "I wish I would have brought it."

"Hmm, well we'll have to look through yours one day."

He gives me a nod in agreement and watches as I open the lid to the box. His name is scribbled on a piece of paper on top. A reminder in case I ever opened the box on accident to not go any further unless I was ready to cry. I lift it up for the first time in, God I don't even know, and brace myself for what is under it.

The Semper Fi medal he sent me is resting on the very top, most likely to it being the very last thing I put inside of it. It's still on the chain I wore it with and my finger skims across it lightly. "I wore it, for the longest time. Made me feel safe." I lift it with my fingers, let the emotion of it settle deep in my chest, and set it softly on the couch. Under it, my absolute favorite picture of us that we took through our 12 years of partnership. I flip it around because I still know exactly what is written in Elliot's handwriting.

"Partners for life," we both say at the same time.

I smile gently, flip it back over to look at it. I can't quite remember the exact year it was taken but by the short style of my hair it had to be around the third or fourth year of our partnership. We're in a bar, me standing behind him sitting on a bar stool, with my hands on his shoulders. He had said something funny that made me bust up laughing and we're looking at one another mid laugh. I swear I've never looked so happy, so relaxed, in any other photo. Through the years at SVU, through the years of horror, that light dims in all of us, and in this photo I can still see it in our eyes.

He takes it from me, rubs his thumb across both of our faces. "That haircut of yours."

I laugh, "Wasn't the only time I buzzed it off."

"Geez, I can't believe you did it the second time. You hated it the first time."

I still can't believe I did either but him telling me he got Kathy pregnant again after two years of waiting for him to make a move will do that to a woman. "Wasn't that bad."

"No, you pulled it off. You can pull anything off. I've always liked it long though."

I absentmindedly run my fingers through my hair because it's the longest it's ever been right now and I watch his eyes follow every stroke my fingers make through it. The rest of the box is full of more photos, sticky notes with his hand writing, a little butterfly key-chain that he got me for one of my birthdays.

He's holding the key-chain when he asks, "You didn't keep the badge?"

Fuck. Of course he isn't going to forget about the other thing he sent me as well. And I haven't seen that thing in eight years. It's locked away in some evidence box and I have never went looking for it. The last thing I need is a fucking panic attack trying to find the damn thing, no matter how many times I wish I had it. Elliot doesn't know, I know he doesn't know what happened to me and Jesus. I'm not ready to have this conversation with him right now. But I don't want to lie to him. Because if we're moving forward again, which I've decided that we are, we're not supposed to lie to one another. The look I give him must make him panic because his response is instant.

"I under..."

"Elliot." He stops mid sentence, connects his blue eyes to mine and I take the moment to find safety in them before I speak. "Something happened to me when you were gone. Something bad. And one day, one day, I'll tell you. I'm just not ready to tell you yet." I can see the wheels turning in his head, can see the look of sadness in his eyes and we seem to reach for each other's hand at the same time. "I want more with you, El. I do. I'm just terrified and now I feel so stupid because if I wouldn't have ghosted you these last three months we may have already gotten through all we've needed to get through and we could have been..." Sleeping together? Fucking? Making love? Having sex? God, I don't even know which phrase to use with this man because I'm sure sex with him is going to encompass all of those things.

"Liv, we have time. We both knew this wasn't going to be easy. I don't hold anything against you because I deserve all of it."

I almost laugh at the we have time portion because do we really? We're both pushing 60, my hormones are fucked, he's an older man and God, by the time we fall into bed are things even going to work right? "You sure we have time?"

He knows exactly what I'm asking and the grin that spreads across his face makes that fucking warmth sink back into my bones. Goddamn. Maybe we do have time. "Everything still works perfectly fine on my end, Olivia. You have nothing to worry about."

Jesus Christ. Did the man just admit that he can still maintain an erection? Because I'm pretty sure he fucking did. But it's not him I ever doubted. And since we're being honest... "It's not you I'm worried about."

His eyes travel along my body with that statement and fuck, I'm in the same long sleeve as earlier, with a pair of sweatpants rather than jeans, and I feel like he's looking at me like I'm in the sexist piece of lingerie he's ever seen. Shit. How is this man going to look at me when he sees me naked for the first time? Let alone in a piece of lingerie. That warmth spreads, my panties moisten and I have to catch myself from squeezing my thighs together.

And then his grin widens. This fucking man is going to kill me. "We'll work through it, don't worry about it." That rasp that kills me is back in his voice and fuck, I'm starting to question if we really need to wait any longer.

I inwardly curse Lewis for probably the, who even knows, time because maybe if I didn't have these scars all over my body, I may be a little more open to it happening already. But I just can't see sex, sex that I know him and I can have, happening before some sort of a conversation about them happens. So my body, and him, need to slow the fuck down.

"So, um..." I clear my throat because I really don't know how much longer I'm going to hold out here but I'm going to keep fucking trying until I break. "Friends? For now."

"Anything you want, Liv." God, he really needs to stop using this tone with me.

"You know, you didn't really answer my question." Because, he didn't.

"What question?"

"What is that you want from me, Elliot?"

He looks at me for a second, double checks with me that I'm seriously asking him what he wants, not what I want, not what he thinks is okay to want. What he really wants. His hand, that is still holding mine, squeezes a little tighter and it seems like his body moves just a little bit closer to mine. "I want all of you, Liv. Whatever is left. If you'll let me have it one day."

And I've never felt so relieved in my life. Because I want the same thing.