A/N: Hello one shots, my old friend...

Dolly Parton's Here You Come Again inspired this. Go listen and tell me it's not made for Elliot and Olivia.

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Olivia was mad.

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No, actually mad was an understatement. Olivia was furious.

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And furious is what sent her across the river to this dingy little gym that had a 2.5 star rating on Google, but she didn't particularly care. Because nobody was going to see her here at some hole in the wall punching out her anger at Elliot on a heavy bag.

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And just what gave him the right to come back for her awards ceremony after ten years. And then he didn't even have the decency to show up and gracefully leave at the end of the night, instead he catapulted the whole night into chaos by pissing off the wrong mob boss and getting his car and his wife blown to hell.

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And that little speech in the hospital, what was that? If he'd "heard her voice he wouldn't have been able to leave." What bullshit. Like she had some kind of power over him. Like anyone could make Elliot Stabler do anything he didn't want to do of his own free will.

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She'd been fine. Or as close to fine as she could get. She'd healed. She'd gotten over him. She'd moved on with Tucker. She got a son, got promoted. She'd pulled herself back together from the depths of hell, saved herself from the devil himself, and Elliot wasn't here for any of it.

Yet he could just waltz back into her life and capture her heart like he'd done over twenty fucking years ago.

Thus, the reason for paying Lucy overtime and schlepping herself as far away from anywhere she could possibly run into Elliot, wherever the hell he was. Not that she knew, because he'd been radio silent again for three months

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Things were working out just fine before he blew back in like a tornado and started spitting out a bunch of lies.

"You mean the world to me," then he'd push her away.

"I love you," but he left and didn't talk to her for ten years

And the worst part of it all was that she wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe he was staying in New York. Wanted to believe when he'd whispered to her, all shy and sheepish at Fin's wedding, that she looked beautiful. Wanted to believe he wanted to make something between them work when he insisted on calling her as she drove back to the precinct. Which was probably a good thing since the same psycho mob boss he pissed off tried to run her off the road and he was able to flag down Fin to call a bus for her.

But no sooner has she been released from the hospital and he'd taken her home, got her into her coziest PJs and tucked into her warm, comfortable bed, promising he'd be back when she deemed it okay, when her son wasn't home if that's what she wanted, to check on her.

He had her believing he was back. That he was healing and that somehow they could find their way back to friendship, or maybe even something more.

And then, silence. Again.

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"You've given that bag a good beat down, ma'am," a voice said from behind her. "How about you try a moving target?"

Oh. Fuck. No.

That voice had to be a figment of her imagination, right? Men came up to her somewhat frequently on the job, at the gym (thankfully less when she was out places with Noah) to hit on her. A few times she'd made the mistake of thinking a man was him before she blinked and shook her head and just realized the man had a similar nose, or smile, or timbre in his voice.

Slowly she turned to look over her right shoulder, and there he was.

Bald, bearded, and brawny, but the eyes didn't lie.

Neither did the goofy ass grin on his face.

"E…" she started, but he cut her off.

"Name's Eddie, ma'am," he said. "I work here, but we're not busy right now. Thought I could help you with your form."

She didn't miss how his eyes trailed up and down her body, taking in every inch of her athletic crop top and black leggings. It should bother her, being ogled so blatantly in public, especially by him. But if he was able to do it, so could she. And she had to admit there was a hell of a lot to look at.

"There's a second ring around the back," he said. "Whatta ya say? Up for a more private match?"

She narrowed her eyes on him, but she'd caught on quickly enough with the name change that he was undercover doing God knows what for OCCB. And if he was suggesting a more private venue, he must have had something he needed to say that he couldn't say here.

So she nodded and followed him around the back of the room to what looked like the original ring, or maybe a practice ring for the gym. The room was much smaller, more dilapidated, and she noticed the lack of security cameras hanging in the corners of the room.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled close to her ear and he held the ropes open for her to climb into the ring. "There's no way you hang out in this part of town for shits and giggles."

"What am I doing here?" she hissed. "What are you doing here, and who the fuck is Eddie?"

"Color of the day is orange, Captain," he whispered.

"I should be surprised that you didn't bother to tell me about any of this," she muttered. "Should have known you were up to something when you ghosted me again, but given the track record…"

"Hey, that's not fair," he said.

"It's absolutely fair," she whispered as he strapped on the practice pads.

"I couldn't tell anyone except Kathleen," he said. "And she filled in the rest of the family. But Liv, you shouldn't be here. These are not good people. What are you even doing here?"

She obviously couldn't tell him she was here to try to get away from him. Because the fact of the matter was that it was completely ridiculous in her attempt to get away from him, she walked right into the one place he'd probably been hiding for all those three months.

"I wanted to box," she said.

"This isn't your gym," he said.

"How would you know?" she said, punching up another combination. "Lots of things have changed in 10 years. Maybe this is my gym now."

"It's not and you know it," he said. "I don't want you hanging around these people."

"Thanks daddy," she said through grit teeth. "But I can take care of myself."

"They don't like cops around here, Liv," he said. "I'm serious. We thought Wheatley was bad, but at least he gets off on the head games. These people don't have time for head games. They cut out tongues, shoot you in the back, and ask questions later."

The thought of that, of Elliot being an undercover cop around these people, shot a chill up her spine.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" she whispered. "Do you have a death wish?"

"I have a job to do," he muttered.

"Yeah, and I'm sure the redhead eyeing you at the door has been making your job real hard," she whispered. "Or at least something real hard."

That got Elliot's mouth to fall open, and he lost his stance. She took the opportunity to land a punch to the ribs which knocked him to his knees.

"Cheap shot," he said.

"Truth hurts," she said.

Rising back to his feet, Elliot tossed the practice pads to the mat. In her sneakers instead of her usual heeled boots, he loomed over her. And everything smelled of him. His deodorant, his musky sweat. Smells she knew even better than her own, and they were all assaulting her senses at once.

"You jealous of Flutura, Liv?" he asked, backing her against the ropes and leaning on them for leverage. Her back was to the door now, and she couldn't see the women, but it seemed like he was putting on a show as if she was still there.

"I'm not jealous of anybody," she said. "And I'm not gonna be caught in the middle of some little flirty game between you and Madame DeFarge over there."

He chuckled.

"You been talking to my tech, Jet?" he asked.

"What?" she said, momentarily caught off guard. "No?"

"Then maybe you are jealous," he said. "Like what you see, want it for yourself?"

"Come off it you asshole," she said. "You know damn well you look better than you have a right to. And now I know it's because you ghosted me for three months to live in a gym."

She noticed how Elliot's eyes kept darting from her face to the door.

"You leave anything in the room out there?" he asked. "Jacket, water bottle, anything that could identify you as a cop?"

"No," she said. "Keys and phone are in my leggings pockets."

"Good," he said. "Because they're getting suspicious out there. Nobody's seen your face yet, but we're drawing a crowd. So in about two minutes, I'm going to need you to shove me away, and I want you to storm out the door over my left shoulder and don't look back. Got it?"

"Why?" she asked.

"Because Eddie isn't a very nice guy," Elliot said. "And I think they're starting to notice I'm being a little too nice to you."

Olivia sucked a breath in through her nose.

"How you gonna talk your way out of it?" she asked.

"Say I was hitting on you," he said. "Groped your ass, you didn't like it and left."

"I got a better one," she said. "Tell them I'm an ex. Someone you really hurt, and seeing you again shook me up. So that's why I left."

"That'd work just as well, I guess," he said.

Olivia nodded slightly. And with a plan in place, she knew exactly what she was going to do.

As quickly as she could, Olivia tossed the gloves she was wearing to the mat, and she snaked a hand up to cradle the back of Elliot's head and neck. She pulled his face closer and whispered:

"You better make it out of here in one piece," she said. "And come home, got it? I'm not quite done being furious with you yet, and it sure would put a damper on that if you got shot in the back or got your tongue sliced out. Of course then you couldn't back sass me anymore."

That got him to chuckle.

"I mean it," she whispered. "Come home to us, Stabler. Your kids, your mother, me, and my son."

"You gonna let me meet him?" Elliot asked.

"Maybe one day, if you stop hanging around with mobsters," she said.

"I'll come home," he said. "I promise."

"I really want to believe you," she said. "So make sure this a promise you can keep."

Then, without much more thinking, Olivia pushed his head towards hers and their lips connected. The kiss was just long enough for him to slip his tongue into her mouth and give her a taste of what could be.

And just as quickly as it came, she shoved him backwards off of her and slapped him clean across the face, and ducked out of the ring, sprinting for the door, running out into the alley and not looking back. She parked a few blocks away, and she was panting by the time she reached her SUV.

Quickly, Olivia slipped into the passenger seat, started the car, and took off before pulling over a few blocks later. As she put the car in park, and leaned back in the seat still breathing heavily, she raised a hand to her lips and touched them gently. They felt warm and just a little swollen. And her mouth tasted like coffee and cinnamon gum, just like she always thought it might if she was ever able to kiss Elliot.

Trying to distract herself from the thoughts creeping into the corners of her mind, she synced her phone to the radio and asked Siri to play Spotify. The last thing she'd listened to, or rather Noah listened to, was his Divas playlist. It was a study for his dance class, and the theme of one of their upcoming recitals.

And with all the songs on the playlist it couldn't have pulled up Cher, Madonna, or Beyonce. No. Out of her speakers came Dolly Parton's country twang, and the lyrics hit Olivia right in the gut, and then in the heart.

"Here I go again is right, Dolly," she muttered, stabbing the "Next" button on the car screen, pretending that a tear hadn't just escaped down her cheek and she pointed her car towards her new apartment, her good job, her loving son.

Because as much as she wanted to believe Elliot, she wasn't so sure how much she could trust him. And if she was going to have to start living life without him again, now was as good a time as any.

Of all the gyms in all of New York. And she had to walk into that one.

She wasn't going to make that mistake, or any other ones related to Elliot, ever again.