AN: This chapter is a post-23x10 fic, with some liberties of where EO stands. In my head for this, EO is a bit more established than they are canonically. They're still in their "friendship for now" era, but just barely. They've for sure kissed already, they like doing that, but it's still scary. The feelings are big and new but old but still new (and old). They're on their way, but just not fully there yet. Ya know?

I'VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE: CH 5 / COMPLICATED

He's standing there quietly, leaning against the wall next to her office at the far side of SVU's squad room when she finally emerges from the precinct's main conference room at the other end, shuffling out alongside ten other dreary looking cops. He's wearing jeans and a navy button down shirt, a waxed canvas jacket looped over his arm. His eyes are soft, but focused on the ground and he's nervously shifting his weight between his feet. There's a large coffee in his hand and a bodega to-go bag hanging from his other wrist.

Olivia catches his presence immediately, straying from the rest of the group, who are making beelines for the elevator to get the hell out of here, to turn in his direction. He glances up quickly to confirm she's not making a point of ignoring him, locking his gaze with hers. Her eyes are curious, but mostly void of any emotion.

"Elliot? What are you doing here?" She questions when she's close enough, eyebrows furrowing as she looks at him expectantly. Her tone is harsher than he predicted it would be, but given the day he's sure she's had, he doesn't harp on it.

"I heard the radio report. It's on local news, too. I'm sorry, Liv. I, uhhh… I figured you'd be tired or hungry or probably both. I brought some things, just coffee and snacks to tide you over until you can get outta here. You okay?" He gestures with a small smile, raising the bag he's holding a few inches and extending the cup of coffee to her.

"I, um, thanks." She blinks, uncharacteristically frazzled and wary. "I'm fine, it was a good shooting." Her face is rigid, her psyche kicking in to haphazardly throw up walls of dissociation, likely from him, their relationship, and her last 48 hours. She takes the coffee, but rids her hands of its burden immediately, placing it on Rollins' desk nearby.

She's tired, he can tell. Tired, in this very moment, of holding the weight of the world on her shoulders. He knows it's nothing she can't handle, that she'll wake up tomorrow with the same drive and determination to bring justice that she always has. To be the unwavering force of Manhattan's SVU she's been for over two decades, to be a beacon of hope for the survivors, to extend her seemingly endless supply of compassion to everyone but herself. The nobility of her mere existence was never lost on him. Still isn't, won't ever be. But beneath all of that, he recognizes the humanity in her, as he always has. The part of her he so earnestly strove to protect when they were partners. The part he knows never had the soft place to land at the end of the day, like he had in his full home with his wife and kids. The part that finds it insanely difficult to reconcile taking a human life the day after Christmas, the holiday which she spent away from her son, the only person in the entire world she's ever given every part of herself to, because it was the right thing to do. The part of herself she's protecting right this second by shutting him out.

"I don't doubt it. Still feels like shit, though." He empathizes, because he gets it, he really does. But he wants her to realize he's here because he wants to be, just for her, because he loves her, damn it.

"Yep." She pauses, racking her brain for any words at all she can string together to make him go away. "Listen, El, I still have more paperwork to get through for this. You should be home and with your family, it's the day after Christmas. Thanks for the snacks."

As she turns to retreat to her office, he reaches out to stroke her arm, attempts to grab her fingers with his, but her body responds almost reflexively and pulls away. He frowns, "Liv, I want to be here for you. I'll just sit, keep you company. You shouldn't be alone. Not today, not right now."

She scoffs at him, almost laughing sadistically at the irony in what he's saying. A thousand thoughts course through her brain like lightning, all of them hurtful and painful reminders of the wordless leave of absence he took from her life. She can feel the anger bubbling up inside of her, the how dare he of it all mixing with the pool of tragic emotions she was already required to sort through today before he'd showed up here unannounced and derailing her yet again.

"I, El, I can't do this with you right now." she hisses, shaking her head. Unearth these feelings, yell about how mad I was at you, remember how fucking much I missed you, how I'm still trying to trust you, how every fiber in my being wants you, how it's a god damn battle with my heart and my head every time I look at you. Not when I just fatally fired my weapon, not right now.

"I don't want you to push me away." His eyes are pleading.

She sees the panic rising up across his face, but doesn't give a single damn. "This isn't about you, Elliot!" Her voice raises, but then lowers again, reverting to the stoic, tired tone she'd been using before. "I told you to go. Please, El. Please just go."

She's pinching the bridge of her nose now, and it's clear that his presence is doing the exact opposite of what he intended. It's a reality he absolutely despises, and it conjures an all too familiar sinking feeling deep in his chest. He did the wrong thing 10 years ago, he knows it, and he'll never forgive himself for it. But he's apparently still doing the wrong things. He's frustrated but doesn't feel like he has the right to be. He wants to make up for it, wants to love her, but she's not letting him. He wants to scream. A lot.

"Alright, Liv, alright. I'll go." He relents, hands in the air. He forfeits, but only because he doesn't want to be the reason she falls apart right now. "If that's what you wa-"

"Yes, that's what I want." She cuts him off, confirming, wanting this to be over. But she sees him recalculating, rethinking his approach, changing direction for a last-ditch effort to render himself useful. She holds her breath.

"Okay, I will, I'll go, just… is there anything else? Something I can do? What do you need, Liv? Besides me gone, how can I help? I just.. I want to help." He's desperate to take anything at all off her shoulders, her mind, her conscious. His voice is quiet, he's walking on eggshells. "Let me get Noah and bring him home, or I can pick up dinner, or… cook it! I'll make anything you want. Or, did you get around to wrapping Noah's gifts? I can grab some rolls of paper and get all of that together…" He rambles on.

She sighs. He's trying, quite literally building twenty kinds of bridges while she's frantically throwing bricks to build walls. He can't take back the past, she knows that, and she can see his intentions now. But how is this so easy for him?

She's all up in her head now, desperately wishing she could turn back time and be 35 again, in their bubble spending 12 hours a day sitting next to each other in the sedan. All of the time, all of the life between them now is daunting and she hasn't a clue how to navigate it all. Back then, everything was neatly compartmentalized, their feelings bound by the job, his family, and her desperate need to keep the two intact. Now? Now it felt like every ounce of their combined existence was sitting out in the wide open, tangled together and teetering on the edge. Like one wrong move could obliterate everything.

Back then, if he checked in on her after a shooting, she could have accepted it or pushed it away, depending on her mood, and either choice would have been okay. Now? Now she wants him to hold her, and he can hold her. Hell, he is actually begging to do exactly that. But it scares the living daylights out of her, and so she's running. It's all so god damn confusing.

Silence.

Breathing.

Staring.

Tears welling. Shit.

"Liv."

She turns her lips in, curling them over her teeth to make everything stop. Closes her eyes, hoping she'll disappear. But then his arms are around her, strong and steady. One hand is buried in her hair and the other presses firmly above her right hip, its path crossing over her shoulder, down past her spine, and enveloping her entire body. She shakes as the sobs come, her mind flashing back to being in this very spot near the doorway to the captain's office 10 years ago, hyper aware that she is currently standing inches from where her feet felt glued to the floor when Cragen told her hewas leaving. Gone already, actually.

"Elliot, this is hard." She finally says, pulling away. "Why is this so hard?"

"It doesn't have to be, Liv." He offers quietly. It's a weak condolence, and he knows it. But, he's agonizing right now and there are no better words coming to him.

"I'm… scared." Her voice breaks, pitch high and threatened by more tears. She wants to tell him that she's scared to be vulnerable with him because she's terrified it will break him, break them. Scared he's not prepared to handle her because she isn't what she was ten years ago. That crossing this line feels insanely like an all or nothing, life or death scenario. Instead, she settles on, "I don't want to ruin this."

But he hears every thought, can see right through her own weak reply.

Okay.

"I want every part of you, Olivia." He announces, his voice almost booming, loud and clear. Surer of himself now because he knows she needs to hear this. "All of it. I'm not half-assing this, us." He pauses to make she she's listening. She is, so he lowers his tone, voice sobering, "I know that I have a lot to make up for, but Liv, I'm not going anywhere, and I need you to hear me." His eyes are wide and serious, but they're full of irrevocable love.

Olivia breathes, nodding slightly, overwhelmed by his sincerity and the way he's looking at her. She's seen those eyes before, knows what they mean. "Elliot, I hear you. And I'm sorry. You…ah, you know I'm not good at this. I've be—"

"—been alone your whole life, yeah yeah Benson. Not anymore, get used to it." He smirks, finishing her sentence, lightening the mood.

She laughs reluctantly, catching a tear that's still rolling down her cheek with a bent knuckle. He brings his hands up to cup her face, thumbs stroking sweetly along her jaw. She pecks his thumb when it brushes the corner of her lip. An olive branch.

"And listen, you and me? We're the most complicated people I've ever known. Why would it get easier now?"