Disclaimer: Olivia, Elliot and the gang do not belong to me; I can only take credit for the bad guys and the story/situation you are reading. Dick Wolfe – you rock!

Rating is for naughty language, because real cops have filthy mouths. This is another E/O chapter, but more case centric. For all of you in need of some E/O action, that will be chapter 12.

Reviews: Please. All of you that have left feedback are giving me the incentive to continue this piece (slow as it may be).

A/N: I am a turtle with updates. Deepest apologies.

Chapter Eleven

As always, trials and interrogations were both more interesting in person than on transcript. The text in front of her was starting to blur, and Olivia rubbed her eyes gently, trying to refocus. Whether it was just a lack of sleep, the dry material she was reading, or a bit of both, she felt disconnected from her current task.

It was almost noon, and she was back in the 16th squad room, sitting at her desk, a mass of folders, pictures, and transcripts in front of her. Since Ron supposedly would be showing up soon, she had stayed behind when Logan had left an hour ago, assigning herself the duty of reviewing all of the past statements taken from Clarkson. She knew the exhausting job would most likely not turn up anything that they didn't already know, but she held out hope for just a piece to help track down his accomplice.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair and stretching. While kneading the ache in her lower back, she glanced around the busy squad room. Her gaze caught on her partner.

Elliot was at Fin's desk, talking to Worth, Schnoebelen, and a plainclothes officer she didn't recognize. As if sensing her staring at him, Elliot turned a fraction in his chair, returning her complicated look. She faltered a little at the directness in his ice blue eyes, biting her lip unconsciously. The movement drew his gaze down to her mouth, and she felt her face become warm. Olivia jerked her attention back to the transcript.

They had mostly avoided each other since this morning. Olivia had been out with Logan for the majority of the time, following a lead called in early regarding a blog and a beauty school, which turned out to be another dead end. Once back at the squad, she had yet to take a break; if not researching, she was making calls out, working through the leads they had yet to cover.

"Hungry?"

Olivia looked up at the sound of Logan's deep voice. He was standing behind her holding a paper bag, a half smile on his face.

Her mouth quirked. "You brought me lunch?"

"I didn't see you eat breakfast, and you'd probably work right through lunch if I hadn't come back." Logan walked up to her desk, sitting down on the edge of the table top next to her.

"Light reading?" He smirked, moving the transcript to the side, ignoring her weak protest. He set the paper bag down in front of her. "It won't hurt to let it go for a few minutes. Eat up."

"What is this?" Olivia asked, uncurling the top of the bag and hesitantly reaching in.

"Turkey club. And don't fucking tell me you're a vegetarian or you're watching your figure, or some other bullshit like that." He rubbed the back of his neck, watching her unfold the foil around the sandwich.

"Thank you, Logan. It's perfect." It was. She was starving, but had pushed the empty feeling in her gut out of her mind to focus on the case. But the three tiered turkey club on wheat in front of her was a Godsend. She picked up one half, biting into the sandwich with an appreciative murmur.

"So who exactly is this guy you are waiting for?" Logan asked her, watching her eat, not moving from his position next to her on the desk.

She chewed slowly, thinking of safe description of Ron and their encounter. Elliot was still the only one that knew her hypothesis on the medallion.

"It's a long story. And probably means nothing. I'm just covering the bases."

"Olivia."

She looked up at him, her hand paused in mid-air with the sandwich.

"I know Stabler's back, but we're still partners on this. Don't fuck with me. Cragen doesn't brag about your performance because you spend precious time following up on nothing."

Olivia smiled. "Cragen brags about me?"

Logan rolled his eyes. "Off topic."

"But I like this one better," Olivia countered, taking another bite of the sandwich. She finished chewing, glancing back up at the older detective. She watched him look across the room, his gaze settling on Elliot and the small group of detectives. There was an odd smile on Logan's face.

"Fine. I'm not through with this discussion, but if you want to change topics…" he trailed off, turning back to her. "What's with you and Stabler?"

Olivia nearly choked on the small bite. She picked up the napkin lying next to the foil on the desk, wiping her mouth. "What are you talking about, Logan?"

"Come off it, Olivia. He's been scowling at me the entire time I've been sitting here next to you."

She was smoothing the napkin across her fingertips, the sandwich forgotten. "Perhaps he's a little…protective of me." Olivia laughed softly. "Stereotypes of female cops with male partners are still alive and well."

"Hmm. I have a female partner, Olivia, and while I do feel protective of her, I don't look like I want to jump a man when he stands too close."

The flash of anger in her brown eyes was vivid. It was meant as a warning, a non-verbal deterrent for him to discontinue further discussion of her partner. Instead of backing off, he rested one hand on the other side of her sandwich, leaning in close to her. She sat still, refusing to pull away.

"Right now, Stabler's giving me the look of death," Logan smiled darkly, his voice hushed. "I bet if I kissed you right now, he'd kill me."

"No."

"Oh?"

"I'd beat him to it," Olivia replied, her voice flat. He blinked, her quick reply unexpected. His smile then pulled out into a grin, flashing teeth. Logan laughed, moving back to his prior position.

"Okay, I get it. But I know that I'm right…" Logan's smile faded and Olivia looked up, and then turned in her chair. A uniformed officer was walking towards them with a tall, well-built Italian man with a rather sullen look on his attractive face. Ron.

"Detectives, this is Ron D'Annuzio. He's here to see Detective Benson."

Logan moved forward before Olivia had the chance, holding out his hand to the younger man. "Ron, I'm Detective Logan."

"You her partner?"

"Yes," Logan answered brusquely, beating Olivia to it. She spared him a scowl, and looked back at Ron.

"Thanks for coming in, Ron."

"This isn't about the other night, is it? I mean, I thought that was all done with. I ain't touched a woman since then, honest."

Logan quirked an eyebrow up at Olivia, but she ignored him. "I believe you. But I would like to talk with you. Not here, though. Follow me."

He nodded absently. She paused at her desk, picking up the largest file folder before heading towards the interrogation room. Ron followed her, darting quick glances around the busy squad room as he walked.

Elliot had been watching her since Logan had arrived. He was annoyed when he realized the other detective had brought Olivia lunch, and couldn't help but be distracted whenever he heard her laugh at something Logan said. When the older man had leaned down close to his partner, Elliot had felt a rage he hadn't experienced in years. For a moment he thought that Logan was going to kiss Olivia, right in the middle of the busy squad room.

The idea that he might have seriously hurt Logan if he had followed through scared Elliot. Protectiveness was one thing, but Elliot recognized it clearly as jealousy. And he knew he had no right to feel this way. For as much as he wanted it, she wasn't his.

Elliot's hands were still clenched into fists as he had watched the short exchange between Olivia, Logan, and the tall man that had just entered the squad room. When Olivia and the man had turned and started walking past him to the big interrogation room, Elliot realized he was the firefighter she had discussed.

Unwillingly, a smile touched his lips. So this is the fucker that attacked her and she saw fit to fling him across a barroom floor? Big guy.

Elliot left the small group of cops, walking quietly to the interrogation room. He opened the door slowly, thankful to see she was already in the main room with Ron. He closed the door behind him, standing in front of the two-way mirror to watch the interview.

Elliot turned at the sound of the door; Logan opened it soundlessly, striding into the room and closing the door behind him. He gave Elliot a smile, walking up next to him to stand in front of the glass.

"So what's the story with this guy?"

"Someone she beat up in a bar," Elliot answered, his tone low, his gaze never leaving the scene in the interrogation room.

Logan snorted. "And how the fuck does that relate to the perp?"

Elliot didn't answer. Logan stared at him a couple of seconds, and then turned to watch the interview.

"Have a seat, Ron." Olivia gestured to one of the chairs around the plain wood table. He looked at the chair, then back at her, frowning.

"Is this gonna take long? I'd rather stand."

"I'd prefer you sit," Olivia answered. His lips drew out in a thin line. He huffed, a child-like sound that reminded her once again how young he was, and plopped down in one of the chairs. She took a seat across from him, setting the file down on the table top in front of her.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, leaning back in the chair. His eyes narrowed, his mouth turning down slightly.

"Still sore." He paused, crossing his arms across his chest. "You know, I talked to a buddy of mine, and he says I could sue. That it was police harassment."

"Mmm. Did you mention you made the first move, Ron? That you assaulted a police officer? A woman police officer?"

He scowled. "I just touched you…"

"And somehow your touch ripped out all the stitches on my bullet wound?"

Ron's scowl disappeared. "You were shot?"

"Just last week. Want to see?" Olivia asked with dark humor.

He was staring at her, his lips parted slightly. "Wait. This ain't about the bar fight, is it?"

Such a clever fellow. "No."

"I didn't shoot nobody."

Olivia sighed, deciding it was best to ignore that last statement. "Ron, what did you do that night, after we sent you home in the cab?"

His scowl reappeared. "I went home."

"And you stayed there?"

"Yeah."

"All night?"

The fingers on his left hand jerked a little against his right bicep where his arms were still crossed. "Yeah."

"I think you're a horrible liar." She pushed out of the chair, the sharp movement and screech of wood causing him to flinch. His eyes were wide, his gaze following her as she walked around the table. She stood behind him where he couldn't see her, placing one hand firmly on his shoulder, an obvious move to keep him from standing.

Elliot watched with rapt attention through the mirror. She was an expert in the room, a star player at such a dangerous game. The tension was thick, and he waited for her to continue, nearly forgetting that Logan was standing next to him.

"I gave you a clean slate, Ron." Her voice lowered. "I could have brought you in, arrested you. You could have even lost your job with the FDNY."

"You said…"

"But I didn't. So why do find it necessary to lie to me now?" Olivia questioned. She glanced down at his neck, the glint of a gold chain catching her attention. Her hand left his shoulder, her fingertips touching the back of his neck.

He jerked a little in surprise, but stayed seated, looking straight ahead. Olivia smiled softly, knowing he was scared of her. She tugged gently at the tiny bit of strand that was visible under the collar of his black t-shirt, exposing more of the chain against his neck.

"You won't arrest me?" He almost pleaded with her.

"Why would I, Ron?"

"But if…uh, if I came back…"

"Tell me," she encouraged him. Her lips quirked a little as she remembered this morning, and Elliot saying those exact words, with nearly the same tone she used now.

And it was just as successful.

"I took a cab back to the bar," the confession came out a rush. He paused, obviously waiting for her to admonish him. When she stayed quiet, he slowly continued.

"I don't know why I went back. Maybe to see if you were still there," he grunted. Ron made a move as if he wanted to turn, but Olivia pressed her hands into his shoulders again. She knew she had more power if he couldn't see her face while relating the night's events.

"Go on."

"They kicked me out." He snorted. "Fucking bartender. Didn't care for that shit hole anyways."

"Where did you go then?" She asked softly, looking up from the top of his head to the brick wall in front of them. Olivia waited, but he didn't answer her.

She glanced back down at him, once again staring at the chain. "You were followed…"

"She grabbed my arm while I was leaving."

She?

"I don't know why I hadn't seen her there before. Fucking hot little blond chick. Chatted me up, laying it on thick. Hell, I know the ladies dig me, but it was almost excessive."

Olivia blinked, her mind racing with the information. "You took her home with you?"

"We got drinks in another bar. I, uh, I guess I passed my limit."

"Why?" She questioned, her voice a soft lull as her fingertips pressed into his shoulders gently.

"I, uh, don't remember much after the bar. I'm pretty sure we would have fucked, she was all digging on it, but…" His voice died as he uncrossed his arms, rubbing his palms against his jeans.

"Do you remember passing out?"

"No."

Olivia bit her lip. Ron had been drugged. This unknown blond woman had slipped something in his drink.

Olivia looked back down at the exposed chain. Her hand moved from his shoulder again, her fingertips sliding against the chain.

"Where did you wake up?"

"My apartment. Alone. Like she was never there or nothing. But my fucking medal was gone. I'm sure that bitch stole it."

Olivia swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. "Your medal?"

"Yeah. My fucking FDNY medal. Size of a quarter, usually keep it around my neck. It's been missing since that night. I'm sure it was her that swiped it."

Olivia closed her eyes, fighting back the sudden rush of emotion. She was right. Good God, she was right. The bastard.

She removed her hands from his shoulders and walked back around to her side of the desk. Flipping the folder open, she pulled out the top photo and set it face up in front of him.

"Is that it?"

She watched his face as he stared at the photo. It was one of several CSU had taken of the medallion; this one the object was flat on a plain white surface, face up, a ruler on the right side for documentation purposes.

He touched the edge of the photo, staring at it for several minutes before looking up at her.

"Where did you get this?"

"So it is yours?"

"The scratch on the side…I, uh…aw, fuck, it's a stupid story. But yeah, it's mine." He paused, eying her warily. "Can I have it back?"

Though he had no idea of where it had been, and she had no intentions of telling him, the request made her stomach lurch. "No." Her lips pursed; she knew he needed some sort of explanation. "It's part of an ongoing investigation."

"Oh." He glanced back at the photo, his dark eyebrows low. "This isn't just because she stole it, is it? I mean, this is something bigger, right?"

She sighed, the sound bringing his head up. "I don't want you to worry about that, okay? But I will need you to talk with our sketch artist."

"About the blonde?"

"About the blonde," Olivia repeated. Ron stood and she walked back over to him, pulling a card out of her pants pocket and handing it to him.

"I want you to call me if you remember anything else, all right? Anytime. I mean it."

He nodded wordlessly, looking down at her information with an odd smile. "This kinda makes us even then, hey?"

She forced a small laugh. "Close."

"You said a clean slate, right?"

"I did."

"So, you wanna get a drink or something after shift?"

Her laugh this time was real. "Not that clean, Ron."

Together they turned at the sound of the door opening. Elliot walked in, followed by Logan. Both men looked grim.

"Ron, if you want to come with me, I'll take you to composite," Logan spoke low, making a small gesture to Ron to follow him.

Ron glanced at Olivia, and then turned back to Logan. Logan stood against the door, letting Ron exit the room first. The look Logan gave Olivia lacked all of the humor from earlier. She knew he was pissed she had kept him in the dark.

"We'll talk," Logan told her, closing the door to the interrogation room behind him.

Olivia sat back against the table, closing her eyes, literally drained from the interview. She heard Elliot move, sensed him in front of her, but she stayed still.

"Liv…"

"This is crazy," her hushed voice came out hoarse, and she bit her lip, fighting the urge to cry. She dug her nails into the wood of the tabletop as she battled the tears.

She almost flinched when he touched her, his palm rough against her cheek.

Elliot stared at her face, her closed eyes, the long lashes dusting against her flushed cheeks. His gaze drifted down to her mouth, and his hand moved instinctively, his thumb brushing against her full lower lip.

Her eyes fluttered open, her lips parting in surprise under the touch. His attention was on her mouth, his blue eyes dark with lust.

It was crazy, how fast her emotions had moved from fear, to anger, and now…this. It was almost violent, leaving her shivering with reaction.

"You're staying with me tonight," he whispered roughly.

"El, I'm not going…"

"Shhh," he murmured. Elliot's hand moved away from her mouth, and he leaned back a bit, aware of their surroundings. "I don't feel like an arguing with you on this, Liv. There's no other option."

"But the two of us…"

"I'll be good," his voice was still low, the silky tone causing warmth to spread in her belly.

"It's not you I'm worried about," she replied darkly.

They both turned towards the door, Logan striding in again.

"Back so soon?" Elliot grimaced at the older detective. Logan gave him a humorless smile.

"I met Fin on the way out. He took Ron to composite." Logan looked back at Olivia. "And we have an apartment to go through with CSU. Time to be my partner again, Olivia."

Elliot frowned at the terminology as Olivia picked up the file folder and walked over to Logan. She gave Elliot one last look before both of them left the interrogation room.

Elliot walked over to the table in the empty room, sitting down, his elbows on the tabletop, fingers crossed. He rested his chin on his fingers, closing his eyes, deep in thought in the room that contained so many of his memories.