A/N: Okay so here is the next chapter. I thought I'd get it up rather quickly to try to guage responses and decided if I should continue or not. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 2

He made his way the best he could through the corridors. The bull pit wasn't exactly a bull pit any more. It was more sectioned off. More modern. There were actual offices and defined spaces. It was nice, but it made him feel misplaced in a place he had once considered a second home. Sometimes a first, when he and Kathy were on a really bad streak. Thankfully, most of the offices had glass walls. So if he wandered around enough, he figured he would inevitably find the woman he was searching for. And eventually, he did.

He slowed his stride and watched her as she got the toddler and the infant settled in the corner, next to what he assumed was her desk. There was a play mat she'd already spread out in the corner and deposited the infant on. She'd pulled one of the empty chairs next to her and plopped the toddler down in it. She was now digging through one of the bags and began pulling different food items from it. She placed a small carton down in front of the toddler and pulled another clear plastic container out that looked like it contained yogurt. She popped open the carton and grabbed a spoon, stiring the contents inside before sliding it in front of the toddler and telling her to eat. She then quickly discarded her coat, depositing it on the back of her chair. She began digging through a backpack she had. She pulled out a bottle and sat it on the desk before scooping up the infant from the mat. She sat in the chair and handed the bottle to the infant. The little boy immediately placed the bottle to his mouth and began devouring the contents, indicating that his breakfast was probably running a little late. She then slid a stack of papers towards her with her free hand, and flipped through the first few pages, grabbed her pen and began to scribble on one of them.

He stood in the door, unnoticed by her, as he continued his observation. She hadn't changed much since the last time he'd seen her. Still as beautiful as ever. Her hair a little longer than he'd last remembered it. She was captivating, and he would willingly be her captive audience. He continued to watch her intently, still familiar with all her habits of body language. His eyes were drawn to her plush pink lips as she rolled the pen under her bottom lip in contemplation. She pursed her lips slightly, and he immediately caught a flash of memories from years ago. Those same lips falling open in pleasure, allowing the most sensual sounds to escape her mouth. He felt a jolt to his spine. Jesus. Just the memory of the woman's moans of pleasure had the ability to make his body react.

His direct view of her was suddenly obscured by the toddler climbing onto the desk top next to her. "Mommy?" he heard the toddler call to her and his attention immedately shifted to the little girl as she abandoned the oatmeal that had been placed in front of her, opting to grab at the items on her mother's desks. It was clear from the first glance that the little girl was hers, as she was almost a baby doppelganger of her mother. The shape of her face, her mouth, her nose, those big doe eyes. They only thing that signaled the woman hadn't cloned herself in child form was the color of her eyes. He'd guessed she'd gotten those from her father. He felt the tension in his jaw, clenching at the thought.

"Mmm, what baby?" Olivia asked, glancing up at the items on the desk to make sure there wasn't anything that the child could grab that she could hurt herself with or destroy some part of the office with. Her eyes then flittered back to the papers.

"When is Uncle Fin gonna get here?" she asked. Elliot arched an eyebrow, not at all surprised that his former squadmate had already garnered the title of uncle. He and Olivia had always been close, their whole squad really. But Fin and Olivia had always shared more of a brothe-sister dynamic. Even though she was his partner, Fin had obviously been her favorite person to team up with for office mischief. That was their relationship. While his relationship with her as his partner, well it had never really been well defined. They had tried whole heartedly to pretend that it was. At least until the absolutley couldn't.

"He should be here any minute," Olivia answered, abandoning the paperwork to catch the chair that was slowly starting to roll away from the toddler. The little girl had one foot on the chair, while one of her knees was braced on the desk as she stretched her little body to try to grab an object at the back of the desk.

"Izzy. Baby, you have to sit," Olivia said taking the unifinished bottle from the baby and sitting it on the desk. Elliot smiled as he saw the baby boy, reaching for the bottle with both hands opening and closing. Clearly he wasn't finished with his breakfast. She then proceeded to carefully pry the little girl from the desk top and place her completely back in the chair, just as the infant began to fuss impatiently for the rest of his breakfast. "Otherwise you're gonna fall. Finish eating your breakfast."

She then grabbed the bottle and placed it back to the infant's mouth, and he immediatly stopped his complaints and accepted the rest of his breakfast. She then grabbed the spoon from the oatmeal and scooped some of it out holding it to the little girl's mouth. She reluctantly accepted one spoonful before slipping from the chair onto the floor. Olivia sighed, heavily before letting out an exasperated, "Isabella."

He laughed to himself, stepping into the room. "You look like you could use an extra set of hands, Benson."

She jump slightly and her head turned towards his voice in surprise for the second time that day.

She walked into her office and was happy to find that even though running late, she was still the first of her colleagues to arrive. She walked over to her desk in the far corner of the room, the one she'd claimed after the renovations had been done. She placed her right arm over the desktop and gently released everything she'd been holding in that arm. She then used her free hand to take the bright yellow backpack dangling from her left hand and place it in her chair. She then slid the bag from her right shoulder next to it and shifted the baby higher up on her left hip. She dug the playmat from the bag and haphazardly placed it on the floor between the two walls and her desk. She placed the baby on top of it and began unpacking their breakfast as the toddler danced around at her feet.

"You're fine. You're fine. You're fine…" she realized she'd been chanting that softly to herself for an undetermined amount of time. She took a deep breath and blew it out as she placed the little girl in the chair she'd pulled up next to hers. It wasn't until she sat down and placed the bottle in the infant's mouth that her brain finally let go of the phrase. The next thought wasn't exactly comforting though.

"What in the actual fuck?"

She tried to avoid answering that question by grabbing a stack of papers and a pen and attempting to get to work. That attempt at distraction did not work.

Why did one showing from that asshole rock her this bad? She kept trying to calm herself and talk herself down. She was better than this. She had gone through and survived so much without him. She would not let him do this to her, not after he abandoned her. She groaned inwardly as a memory from years ago flashed through her mind. She immediately tried willing it away, but it was no use. The images kept coming. His lips on hers. His weight on top of her. His pelvis heavy between her thighs as he moved inside of her. She stiffened slightly as she felt a spark move down her spine, settling at the base before wrapping around and creating a warm feeling in her core.

'Got damn it, Olivia. Stop it!' She scolded herself. She took a deep breath as she felt herself losing the battle with her psyche. She hadn't thought about those nights in a long time, and that was saying something considering she'd looked into the eyes of the result of them every day for the last three years.

She was provided some reprieve from her self destructive thoughts when her daughter asked her a question. She just hoped her answer didn't set off an avalanche of questions as it normally did with the three year old. Thankfully, she was spared from a tangential game of twenty one questions as the little girl became preoccupied with getting to one of her toys that had been left on the desk.

Honestly looking back on it, she couldn't tell when it had all been set in motion. Maybe it had been as soon as Jena had walked into the precinct to inquire about the arrest of the people responsible for her mother's murder. Maybe it was when that idiot decided to open his big mouth after they had convinced the teen to put the gun down. Maybe it had been the year before when the girl's mother had been raped. She didn't know.

Maybe she had set all the parts in motion when she begged him to come back to her place, but it had all honestly come from a good place. Her intentions had been good, so she really couldn't pin point how it had all ended so wrong.

She had thankfully, run into him on his way out of the precinct. She'd been going back into the pit to check on him after speaking with their captain about the events that had occurred earlier that evening. They'd both taken the time to shower and change at some point, washing the blood from their hands and other parts of them. They'd both had to turn in their clothes for evidence as she had had Sister Peg's blood splatter on her, signaling just how close she had come to the bullet that killed the woman. And he had had some of Jenna's blood on him as he knelt next to her to try to control the bleeding from the wound left by his weapon, She'd been concerned about him, but when she saw him, she knew it was worse than she could have imagined. She slowed her stride and stopped completely as he passed her, a bewildered look in his eyes.

"Elliot," she'd called softly, but loud enough and firm enough for him to hear her and acknowledge her attempt at getting his attention.

He'd jerked to a stop and turned abruptly, as if startled, confirming that he had been so consumed in his thoughts that her presence hadn't even registered to him. He'd just stared at her waiting for her to state her reason for stopping him. She'd taken him in then, and he just didn't look right. His demeanor was misplaced considering what they had just experienced. He didn't seem sad or scared. He was slightly disheveled as he shrugged his shoulders, still not able to get the jacket to settle right on his broad shoulders. His eyes were wide and unfocused. She was scared for him.

"You heading home?" she asked, not sure what else to say to engage him. 'Are you okay?' or 'How are you doing?' just seemed asinine at that point. But she knew that she at least had to be sure that he would be safe when he left her.

"Uhh…no," he said. His eyes darting around the room, still not focusing on her or any one thing in particular. "I'm gonna…I think I'm gonna go grab a drink. I can't…," he stuttered as he scratched his head, "I don't think going home is the best thing right now."

She cocked her head to the side, reading between the lines. It wasn't uncommon for people in their line of work to avoid or withdraw from their loved ones after experiencing a particularly traumatizing event. Sometimes, their families were the only thing that they could find comfort in, hence his youngest son's existence as he had explained it to her. Other times, like this time, there wasn't really any comfort to be found. And pulling away from the ones you cared for was a compassionate act meant to spare them from the grief that was pulling you into the dark void.

"I don't think that's a good idea, El," she stated plainly. "You," she tried to continue, but he cut her off.

"Liv, I'm fine," he'd lied. "I just need a drink," he'd turned to walk away from her and in a panic of not knowing what would happen to him if she allowed him to leave her sight, she grabbed a hold of his wrist with both of her hands. The force of his momentum pulled her forward slightly, but he stopped when he realized she'd effectively maintained her hold on him.

He turned and looked her in her eyes, the steps she had taken when he'd pulled her forward had caused them to be standing closer to each other than she had intended. She took a step back, and racked her brain as she tried to come up with something to protect him from himself until he got his wits about him. Something that he would accept. This was hard, as she was barely holding on to good reasoning herself. But they couldn't both fall apart at the same time, could they? Where would that leave them?

"Come back to my place," she offered as a hail mary. He just stared at her and she could tell he was about to reject the offer, so she cut him off at the pass and continued to plead her reasoning. "You know I keep a shit ton of alcohol and you can crash on my couch." She already knew he hadn't planned on going home.

He just stared at her again, and she could tell he was considering it as he was actually focusing on her face now. "It's better than waking up on a curb with one of the homeless winos after blacking out in a pub," she offered. She would have just offered to go out drinking with him, but she knew that 'a drink' meant drink until he ceased to have coherent thoughts. And she didn't want to have to deal with lugging him around the city until she got him some place she could let him sleep it off.

He looked off to the right before hanging his head down. She could see he was losing the steam of the chaotic energy that had been driving him before. She took advantage of the brief opening, and tugged at the arm she was still holding onto.

"Com'on," she said pulling him along with her as she turned to make the short walk to her desk. She slid her right hand down into his and interlaced their fingers, never letting go of him. Afraid that if she did so, he would find a way to disappear into the wind. Then she'd be left to wonder if he was okay until she saw him again, and who knew when that would be. They both had been order to take a few days away from the precinct. They were to only come in when they were summoned to give their formal statements. They had already gone through the preliminaries with Cragen.

She managed to grab her jacket and her bag, get them out of the precinct, hail a cab and get them on their way to her place. The cab ride was silent, save for her giving the driver her address. She sat in the back of the cab with his hand in her lap, their fingers still locked with each others. It was unclear at this point which one of them, if not both of them, was refusing to let go.

She'd paid the driver and opened the door once the cab had come to a stop in front of her building. It took her tugging slightly on his hand to call his attention back to the present and he began to slide out of the cab behind her. It wasn't until they had breached the threshold of her apartment that he gave resistance. He slid his hand from hers, causing her to turn to face him.

"Liv, I…I…," he started, breaking the long silence between them. She could see that look from the precinct returning. "I need to go. I shouldn't… I can't be here."

He knew he was in a bad way. A very bad way. That was why he'd refused to go home. He had this turmoil inside of him and he didn't know what to do with it. He felt like he was going to spontaneously combust, and this time, it honestly scared him. He didn't want to be with his family, but he couldn't put this on her either. His only coherent thoughts since leaving Cragen's office had been to protect his family and to protect her. At least he was still able to manage to do that, and for that, he was grateful. He just had to keep it together long enough to put some distance between them.

He turned and started towards the door and she panicked. She started after him and managed to squeeze herself between him and the door as he reached for the door knob. She knew this man like the back of her hand. And she knew that if she let him leave her apartment, things would get a whole lot worse before they got better. That was if he didn't destroy himself beyond being salvageable.

"Elliot, you…," she started, not knowing what to say to get him to see reason. At the sudden turn of events, she felt her armor starting to slip as well. She'd started to idle down some after making it inside of her building, thinking they were in the clear as far as staying safe for the night, at least. But now she found herself starting to flounder some. "I can't just leave you to rome the streets like this."

"Liv, get out of my way," he stated more firmly, using all his strength to stay clear headed long enough to complete his escape. "I'm leaving. I'm fine. I'm just going down to the bar to have a drink then I'm gonna," he tried, but she stopped him.

"I'm not letting you leave here unless you promise me you are going to go straight home, Elliot," she told him. She could hear the emotions and desperation creeping into her voice. So much for being the voice of reason and remaining the level headed one.

She could feel it in the air. Like static, the way it always manifested when they were at odds. This time was different though. There was something frightening about this. "You're not thinking clearly."

"Yeah, okay," he stated letting his frustration at not being allowed to leave without obstruction show. "And you think you're gonna stop me?" He reached for her and made to move her aside, but she slapped his hands away and pressed her back to the door.

"Olivia," he stated firmly as his hands dropped to his sides. "Move," he warned.

She searched his face and she felt the tears pricking her eyes, blurring her vision, but she refused to let them fall. Normally in this situation, she would lift her chin and straighten her spine, trying to gather all of her height in an attempt to go toe to toe with him. Instead, she felt herself deflating. The weight of the last few hours finally gaining the upper hand and seizing her very being. She didn't know how much longer she could keep up with him as he seemed to be gainig a second wind.

"No," she stated quietly. She stiffened as she witnessed a flurry of movement and felt him grip her biceps firmly. She tried planting her feet on the ground, but it was no secret. No matter how much she tried to ignore the obvious fact or pretend it didn't matter, Elliot was physically stronger her. She was a better shot, but he could toss her aside or subdue her without breaking a sweat, if he really wanted to. And he aimed to do just that.

He was going to simply move her aside and leave. Then he could break and rage without fear of doing any damage to her. However, when she planted her feet and didn't simply allow him to gently move her to the side, something inside him damn near snapped. He had been trying not to be too rough with her and had been forcing his gentle maneuvering of her body. But now he would have to use more force and he really didn't want to do that because he knew he wasn't in complete control of his faculties.

He felt his grip tightening on her arms and managed to stop himself at the last minute. Instead he pressed her even further into the door, being mindful not to hurt her and dipped his head slightly to get closer to her face. "Get the hell out of my way!" he yelled.

This ignited a flair of anger inside her, though not at him particularly. Just at the entire situation, feeling so raw and vulnerable. Not being able to control her own emotions or keep herself from being effected by his.

She brought her hands to his chest in an attempt to push him away from her, but he was still gripping both her arms firmly. Unable to create the space she wanted, she continued to push at his chest, "Get the fuck off of me, you asshole!"

It ended up in a weird tug of war where they were both trying to get away from each other while simultaneously grabbing at each other to move them aside. It would have been hilarious if the circumstances that had bought them to this point hadn't been so tragic. Elliot finally succeeded in releasing his hold on her at the exact wrong moment. The tussle ceased. He'd simply let go of her as she pulled back rather forcefully, trying to rip herself out of his grip. He hadn't pushed her, they'd both been sure of it. But the sound of her back colliding with the wall emitting a loud crack, the force of it causing her body to crumple slightly and a gasp to leave her as the air was forced from her lungs, brought a brief moment of rationality to both of them.

Elliot looked at her slack jawed. When he'd let her go, it was in attempt not to hurt her, not for her to slam herself against the damn wall. He blamed himself for letting go when he felt her pulling away, though he hadn't realized what the result of that would be.

"Liv," he rasped, reaching for her. "I'm sorry." He found his thoughts clearing the most they had been since he'd heard that first shot ring out. He wanted to make sure she was okay.

Her eyes shot up to his as she knocked his hand away. It was her fault as much as it was his, but she was angry now. And she had nowhere to direct that anger. So she would lie most of the blame at his feet, allowing it to fuel her growing rage.

"Fuck you, Elliot," she spat. If he wanted to leave, let him. She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't continue to shoulder the weight of this for the both of them. She had tried, but she wasn't strong enough. She felt herself beginning to break.

He looked down at her and noticed for the first time the hurt and devastation on her face. He immediately felt like shit thinking back through the last hour of her doing all the work to make sure that he stayed safe. All the time, she'd been barely holding her head above water. And when he'd finally noticed her, it was too late. She was already drowning.

He noticed a tear slip down her cheek as she pushed herself off of the door and made her way past him. This time it was him reaching out, latching on to her wrist before she could get away. The power balance still tipping in his favor caused her body to turn suddenly and she found herself face to face with him again.

She remembered staring up at him in that moment, scowling at him as tears now flowed freely down her face. "I'm sorry," he'd said softly. She'd had no idea what he was apologizing for but the little mishap with the door seemed so insignificant at this point.

She honestly didn't remember the events that occured next, but they had somehow ended up in her bedroom. Their naked bodies becoming entangled with the other's while they're clothes laid about her apartment, in a haphazard trail leading to her bed. The last article of clothing that had been discarded was her black panties that he'd ripped from her flesh with one firm tug, causing her to shutter against his frame that was now pressing her down into the matress. She remembered spreading her legs, opening herself to receive him. The cry that had escaped her as he'd pushed his rigid member into her welcoming heat. His eyes as he'd looked down at her as he continued to carve out a space for himself inside of her body. The firmness of his muscles between her thighs as she brought them up to his sides in an attempt to create more space for him. The kisses he had placed on the inside of her thighs as he continued to drive his hips into hers.

They had gone at it until they were both physically spent. On top of the mental and emotional exhaustion that had preceded the physical act, they'd both fallen asleep soon after, not having the energy to analyze the irreversible shift that had just occurred between them.

She had awaken to the beginnings of the next day seeping in through her blinds and her partner's sure and capable hands reaching for her again. She'd still been sore from the night before, but she'd willingly obliged as he'd pulled her right calf across his body, his right arm wrapping around her waist to pull the rest of her on top of him until she was straddling him. She'd felt the hardened peaks of her breasts pressing into his firm chest as she looked down into his face His fingertips brushed her hips with a feathers touch and she pressed her lips to his. His hold on her became firm as he guided her hips backwards. She'd smiled down at him as she sat up and reached behind her, gripping his firmness as it brushed against her backside. A sigh escaped her as she marveled at the heaviness of him in her hand and she now understood the raw feeling between her legs. Even still, she lifted up on her knees, her left hand on his chest as her right hand guided him to her entrance.

She'd moaned keenly, her head falling back as she felt the head of him slipping between her slick folds, piercing her opening. He watched as her eyebrows knitted together in concentration as she struggled slightly to take in the last couple of inches of him. His hold on her hips tightened as he felt her heat quivering as her body adjusted to accomodate him. "Jesus, Olivia," he breath out.

He took a minute to gather himself after being fully seated inside of her before he began thrusting slowly up into her waiting body. Her right hand came back around to rest on his chest as well and she began rolling her hips on top of him, rising some on her knees before dropping her hips back down to take him in again. Together they picked up a languid but satisfying pace. When her thighs began to burn from the exertion, he'd sat up and wrapped her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers. Her hands came up to rest at the sides of his face as she allowed him to explore her mouth with his tongue. The intensty of the kiss slowly subsided to pecks and nips. He felt her stiffening in his arms and knew something was wrong. And knowing her as he did, he could tell she was retreating back into her head.

"What's wrong?" he asked placing a kiss on her noise. She didn't answer him as she pressed her forehead to his, her eyes roming his face as she continued to allow her thoughts to pull her under. "Liv, talk to me," he pleaded with her.

"Elliot," she'd started, finally turning her head to the side, refusing to look at him as she spoke. "What is this? What are we doing?"

He took in a breath and sighed. He wasn't ready to give this up just yet, whatever it was. "What do you mean?"

This made her head snap back towards him in disbelief. "What do I mean? Elliot," she felt the tears coming to her eyes. "You...you're mar..." She found herself not being able to finisht that statement, espescially since she could very much feel the fullness of him being inside of her. "You're my partner. We work together. We shouldn't..." she choked on her words as the tears began falling.

"Shhh," he tried to comfort her. "Liv, it's okay." He knew that it was very much not okay, but he didn't have to stop pretending just yet. Sooner or later this would all crumble before them but it didn't have to be right that moment. So he stated the only truth he had that could possibly help them to find a path to make all of this okay at some day.

"Liv," he stated, dipping his head slightly to catch her eyes and make her look up at him again, "I love you. I'm..." his eyes darted down as he contemplated laying his long unspoken truth at her feet. "I'm in love with you."

She didn't immediately respond. She just studied him trying to figure out why he was saying this. She came up with a number of reasons, considering she was currently naked in his lap. But she also considered that he could very well be telling her the truth. She couldn't deny that possibility. To deny it would be to deny her feelings for him. She had fallen in love with him, she realized, at some point during their almost eight year partnership. And he had spent the same amount of time at her side as she had at his, so it was a very real possibility that he had fallen in love with her at some point as well.

"El, I..." she tried but he stopped her by pressing his lips to hers again. He didn't want to discuss it or have her over analyze it. He just wanted her to accept it, unquestioningly. He brought his hands down to her hips as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. He used his hold on her to lift her hips slight before pressing her back down onto his length. He felt her moan into his mouth as she clinched around him. He did it again, and her hands came back to rest on his face as she began kissing him back and rolling her hips on top of him again.

They picked up their pace again, this time with a little more passion and vigor than their previous relaxed and unrushed rhythm. This continued to draw sounds of pleasure and words of affirmation from them both for the better part of an hour. And hence began the three day tryst that ultimately culminated in the level seven melt down that became their relationship.

They had not left her apartment for the next seventy two hours. They'd survived on what little food she'd had in her apartment, restaurant deliveries and each other. They'd slept, held each other, made confessions of previously unadmitted feelings. They had professed their love for each other and sought out the physical comfort of each others' bodies when the words had become too heavy on their tongues to be able to breath around them. It had been a blissful retreat of denial, because sooner or later, they knew they would have to leave the solitude of her small apartment and face the world outside of it. How what would transpire between them until then would stand up to those harsh realities was never discussed. They wouldn't allow those thoughts to intrude on their sancturary. They needed the breif escape from reality, and they found it in each other.

It wasn't until the fourth morning that she'd awaken to find what had been his side of the bed for the previous few days empty. The sheets were still warm, so she knew he hadn't left long before she'd woken up. She'd figured that he had just gotten called in to meet with the IAB and give his formal statement about the shooting. She was expecting a call herself. She had no idea that she wouldn't set eyes on him or hear his voice again, besides his voicemail recording, for the next few years. And neither one of them knew at that time that there was what was soon to be a physical testimonial of their deliverance starting to take root in her womb.

She hadn't realized that she'd been staring at the page in front of her until she noticed the chair rolling away from her three year old that was currently perched partially on top of her work desk. She instinctively reached out to steady the chair and gave up on getting any of the paperwork done. She seriously had not ingested a word on the paper or written anything coherent on it since she had picked up the pen. Instead, she redirected and focused on her children. That at least always seemed to have a grounding effect on her mental state.

She had just gotten them both resettled to finish their breakfast, when she heard his voice sounding throughout the room.

"You look like you could use an extra set of hands, Benson," he stated, finally announcing his presence and causing her to flinch slightly. She found herself quickly spiraling back down the rabbit hole she was just managing to escape.

She looked up and was met with the familiar pair of crystal blues. She didn't say anything, only watched him as he made his way into the room and closer to her desk. She studied him closely as if he was a wild animal about to pounce on her. He came to a stop in front her, and she took in a deep breath and held it. 'Well…Fuck.'

A/N: Okay guys, thoughts? Is it worth continuing? No? Yes? I don't know?