"Liv." Someone's calling my name. "Liv. Oli-vi-a." I moan at the sing-song tone and kick the blanket off me. Elliot's crouched down beside me, looking amused. "Hey, sleepyhead." He reaches and tousles my hair, playfully.

"Hey." I stretch and rub my eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's just after six. Cragen sent me here to check on you. How are you feeling?" He gets back up on his feet and looks at me.

"Okay." I lever myself up from the couch and kiss his cheek. "Really. I'm fine. It's just a few bruises. A little bit of makeup and you won't even be able to see this."

"You know how cute you look when you're just waking up?" He questions, tossing my blanket over the arm of the couch and sitting.

"Yeah. Sure." I comment, rolling my eyes at him.

"Seriously, Liv." He protests, grinning. "You really do look cute right now."

"I'm not supposed to be cute." I join him, letting his arm fall across my shoulders. I curl into his side and smile, slightly. Gone are the suit and tie I usually see him in - he's in jeans and a t-shirt. It changes him, entirely. I draw my legs up under me and lean my head against his shoulder.

We go quiet, for a while, never saying a word. It's weird. With other guys, I always felt that we had to talk about something, but with him, the silence is comfortable. I just want to enjoy being close to him. My stomach rumbles, breaking the silence and I sigh. "I don't wanna move, but I'm starving." I look up at him, to see a smile on his face.

"Yeah. I thought you'd be hungry. You missed lunch." He runs his fingers through my hair and I shift to let him up. "Anything worth eating in the fridge?"

"Yeah. Should be leftovers in there." I stay sitting, glad to let someone else come up with a meal.

After a meal of cold pizza and the last two beers from my fridge, I look at him. "Did Novak arraign him?" I ask, pushing the plate away from me.

"Un-huh. She stuck assault on a police officer on him, too. Remanded." Elliot reads the question on my face, before I can ask it. "Liv?"

"Mm?" I look up from placing the dishes in the sink. "What?"

He opens the freezer and comes up with a container of ice cream. "Something I picked up on the way over. Interested?"

I laugh, quietly. "You are a son of a bitch, you know that? Grab a couple of spoons."

I join him on the couch, take a spoon from him and dig into the tub. Mint chocolate chip. What the hell doesn't he know about me? I swallow that mouthful and get up to turn out the lights. When I sit back down on the couch, he's got a spoonful in his hand. He offers it to me, but when I reach to take it, he shakes his head.

It confuses me for a second, then I realize what he wants to do. I let him feed it to me, trying not to laugh. This seems corny, like something you'd only see in the fake, surgically-altered world of Hollywood and the movies, but I still like it, anyway. I do the same to him, in return.

We finish the whole tub of ice cream, between the two of us, as we watch TV, sitting there in the dark. When we're both exhausted, we get up from the couch and turn the lights on to check my locks, then turn the living room back to dark again.

I brush my teeth and wash my face, then let him have the bathroom. I crawl into my waiting bed and sigh. Even though I slept most of the day, I'm still tired. I leave the bedside light on for him. Anyone who tries to navigate my bedroom in the dark is bound to get bruised, if they're not familiar with it.

"Liv?" I hear him step back into the bedroom and see the light go off. "I know you're tired." I cuddle the pillow, as he joins me in bed. "Are you still awake? Huh?" He rubs his hand down my back, in a slow stroke.

"Mm-hm. But I'm gonna be asleep here in a minute." I murmur, rolling over to look at him.

Elliot chuckles, quietly. "C'mere."

He's lying on his back, I notice, settling myself in the crook of his arm, tucking my face against his neck. The quiet, steady rhythm of his breathing seems to soothe me, somehow. "I know he didn't hurt you, but are you really all right?" I can hear the concern in his voice.

"Just a little shaken up, that's all." I kiss his neck. "What's it gonna take to convince you of that?"

He kisses the top of my head. "Liv, I know you, remember? Most people would have been screaming at the top of their lungs - why weren't you?"

I knew that I'd have to explain my reasoning behind that one to someone, eventually. "I knew if I started screaming, it would really get him going. I didn't want to push him any further or make him do anything else. If he knew he had me scared, he probably would have had me on the floor before you guys came flying in."

"Jesus." He whispers, stroking my hair.

"I knew that he'd snapped. I thought that if I started screaming, it would have pissed him off. He was stronger than me, El - I didn't wanna piss him off."

"I've worked with you too damned long to not know that you can kick some serious ass." He murmurs and I can't help but grin. "Why didn't you?"

I sigh. "I couldn't. He hit me, across the face and it dazed me. By the time I was out of it, he had me pinned. I didn't get my chance to kick his ass."

"You scared me. I thought he'd really hurt you, when you fell." He looks me in the eye.

I rub my cheek against his shoulder and close my eyes. "He just dazed me. For a minute there, I didn't know what was going on. You know, like the boxer who takes one too many hits to the face?"

"It had to be pretty damned scary for you." His breath stirs my hair, when he speaks.

I sigh. How did I know he was going to go there? "Yeah. It was. I was helpless. If you guys hadn't come through the door, I know what he would have done."

"You didn't seem to be all that helpless." He murmurs.

"I was. He was too strong for me. And he's an old man. I'm a cop. I run four mornings a week, when my schedule's not outta whack and I go to the gym at least three days a week."

"Olivia, how many times have we seen that before?"

I blink at him, confused. "I don't get it."

He rolls over and props himself on his elbow, looking at me. "You're a woman."

Duh. Is he just figuring that out now? "And what does my gender have to do with anything?"

"Not saying that you couldn't kick my ass"- he holds up his hands in surrender - "but science proves it. Women don't have the same muscle mass as we do."

He's right. Damn it. "But still"-

"But nothing, Liv. You put up a fight."

"How could you tell? I don't even think I bruised him."

He chuckles, quietly and pulls me closer to him. I settle in, with his arm around me and look at him. "What's funny?"

He grins. "Munch booked him. And the whole time, he was bitching about you. You must have done something."

"El, a lot of perps bitch about me when they're getting booked. I'm not a perp favorite."

"He told Munch that he'd file a brutality complaint against you. So you did something."

I stare at him. "Are you kidding me? Brutality? Even that moron Sergeant Tucker wouldn't call that brutality, after what he did to me."

"I know." He kisses the top of my head. "So you don't think that much of Sergeant Tucker, either?"

"El, he works for the rat squad. I don't get to tangle with him as often as you do, but I don't like him. How can you like anyone who works for those sons of bitches we call IAB?"

"Uh-huh. Why do I think I should go through your files, now, to see what you've been written up for?"

I punch him, lightly. "Knock it off. I met this guy, from Anti-Crime, a few years ago - before I joined SVU. We dated for a while. One night, I wake up, alone in bed and I hear him on the phone. He was sent to check me out by Internal Affairs. He was messing with me, using a relationship to get the info his bosses wanted."

"What'd you do?"

"Me? Yelled at him for a minute or two, then threw him out. Told him next time his bosses wanted info, they should have the balls to come and ask me. Not send a spy."

He whistles. "You do bite. He was right."

"Who was right? Who told you that I bite?"

"Eckerson."

I roll my eyes. "And you actually believed him?"

"Liv, I had my proof before he came into the picture. One of these days, I'm going to set up a camera and make you watch yourself in the interrogation room. You're worse than me, sometimes."

I scoff at that. "Yeah, right."

"Seriously. Ask Don. Ask Casey - they watch you, sometimes."

I shake my head. "You wanna know what's in my jacket?"

"It's none of my business." He runs his fingers through my hair.

"To save you the trouble of dragging up my personnel file, I'll tell you."

"It's up to you." He shrugs.

I lay my head against his chest. "There's an insubordination write-up from '88, a couple of commendations, three justified shootings, my promotion and maybe a couple of psych evaluations - I'm not really sure."

"How'd you get promoted, anyway? You were young."

"Meritorious." I drape one leg over his.

"What? A meritorious promotion? You know how few of those One-P-P does? Does Cragen know?"

"El, he took me on. He placed me in the squad, with you. I think he read my file. He didn't just let me join the team without checking me out."

"No, but seriously - how?"

I shake my head. "I had a rookie partner with me - training her. She got herself in trouble on a rooftop with a crack dealer. He'd disarmed her and he'd cocked the hammer, when I was able to bring him down from behind. He wasn't even paying attention to what was behind him - not till I shot him."

"You spilt up, you and the kid?"

"Yeah. We weren't sure what direction he'd gone - north or south, but he was on the roofs, somewhere. She found him, got herself into crap. Boys downtown promoted me for getting her out of that alive."

"Un-huh."

"So do you have backroom conferences with all my boyfriends?" I raise an eyebrow at him and he laughs. "No."

"I don't believe you." I inform him.

"Liv - Eckerson was NYPD. One of ours."

"So it's only the cops you talk to."

"No. He was the only one you ever really brought around, remember?" Elliot yawns and grins at me.

I roll my eyes at him. "Shut up and go to sleep."