Elliot is a master at shifting gears, steering his focus in a completely different direction at a moment's notice. However, at this moment, he wishes the world would stall—so that he can process what the hell is going on regarding Olivia.

Alan Lauderman was brought into the interrogation too soon for Elliot's taste. Any other time he'd be plastered in a sinister grin, waiting to pounce and tear the perps apart like a rabid coyote, but this wasn't any other time.

Olivia didn't look too level-headed either, but they proceeded in their quest of putting Alan Lauderman behind bars for the rest of his life.

Elliot rolls up his sleeves, "You want to tell us what you did and save us the trouble?"

Alan chuckles, reeling with a quarter in his hand, "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, man."

"Okay, here comes the trouble then," Olivia pushes the file onto the table, scanning over the DNA report, "We have your swimmers on a fourteen-year-old boy, Lauderman."

"That's bad," Elliot mocks, "Very bad for you," he says, cracking a knuckle.

Lauderman smiles at Olivia, "You can't put words in my mouth, miss."

Elliot slams his fist on the surface, startling him, "That's Detective, not miss."

Cragen stood nervously behind the glass with his hands buried deep in his pockets.

"Why him, Alan?" Olivia asked, "A school of a thousand children, and you pick this one, a boy no less. Something you want to tell us?"

Alan scoffs, "I ain't gay."

"You said it, not me." Olivia snickers.

Alan Laudermen leaped across the table intending to hurt his female interrogator, but he didn't have the chance. Not before Elliot pushed him back by his shoulders and into the brick wall behind them. Laudermen swung, but Elliot's punch connected with his cheek faster and a lot harder.

Elliot subdued him, cuffing his hands to the table and forcibly smashing his face into the hard metal.

"Make this easier on yourself," Elliot hissed, "You did it. You fucked that child up for the rest of his life!"

Elliot didn't notice his knuckles were bleeding or when Cragen and Casey opened the door.

Alan smiled, blood coating his teeth, "It was worth it."

Olivia's demeanor changed. Her stomach dropped, "You're under arrest," she leaned in close, "I hope you rot in hell, Alan."

The interrogation was over. Elliot took off to the cribs without a word as soon as Laudermen was booked.

It left Cragen and Olivia reflecting.

"You sure you can handle all this, Benson?"

"I can. Some things are just hard to hear."

"You looked like you were going to leap over the table."

In anguish, Olivia shook her head, "Wouldn't you?"

The look in Cragen's eyes gave her an answer, "Go find your partner, make sure he doesn't tear the rest of the place up."

She nodded and wandered off to find him.

The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, and he hovered over the sink, trying to wash the blood of their suspect off his hands. Elliot scrubbed hard, trying to rid himself of the blood that didn't belong to him. In his bubbling anger, past the clouded feelings, he realized that the blood circling the drain did belong to him. The crescent circles cuts on his knuckles stung every time he clenched his fist.

Damn it.

Elliot takes a towel from his gym bag and wraps it around his hand; he flexes his fingers, trying to convince himself that nothing is broken before moving to the designated bottle of hydrogen peroxide that seems to be devoted solely to him these days. He dribbles the solution over his injured hand and cringes, feeling it sizzle in the cut.

"I know why you did it," The female voice spoke, "Hurts, doesn't it?"

He rolls his eyes, his back to her, "Liv, if you're going to yell and scream at me, do it."

She walks up behind him, running her hands down his chest as she takes a look to see what he's doing. Olivia takes the towel from him and soaks it in the peroxide, taking a close seat beside him, "I'm not here to do that," she dabs the towel at his knuckles, "I know why you did it," She says with a lump in her throat, "I wasn't going to stop you, and I feel like shit for it. Maybe I wanted you to hurt him. I don't know. Schools are supposed to be safe, and he abused his power… took it out on a boy who didn't deserve it." She stops dabbing and looks into his eyes, "I get it, Elliot, I do, but you need to get this under control before you damage more than your hands. "

He bites his lip, "Like what?"

"Your life," she sighs, "You can't go down a dirty cop," she shakes her head, "You'll lose your job, your pension, your reputation…." She stops when she sees him drop his head to the floor.

She's not yelling at him. She's scolding him, telling him what to do like a parent would talk to a child.

She sighs, "Baby, I don't want to see you locked in a cage, like an animal, because you went too far."

Elliot licks his lips, unsure of what to say. He knits his brows together, "Will I lose you?"

Olivia blinks and looks at his knuckles, "No," she shakes her head, "You won't."

"Then that's all I need."

Cragen enters the crib with his hand in his pockets.

"How long you want me gone?" Elliot asked, unsurprised.

The captain ponders, "Take today and tomorrow. You too, Benson."

Olivia stood up to argue, "Captain, we still have an open case…."

"You are a target, Benson. You're still pending investigation and ordered by me to be under protection until it's resolved."

"Pending Investigation? That's crap." She snaps.

"No. It's an order."

"And I'm under protection? By who?"

Cragen points to Elliot, "Him."

The beer bottle nestled in Elliot's hand offered him little comfort.

The same goes for the cigarette lit in his hand from the pack Olivia had bought as a prop on Halloween.

There was no comfort in knowing someone had it out for her. Not some other officer or a nameless-faceless woman. It had to be Olivia, the woman who made the sun rise and fall every day in Elliot's eyes. Now, some nameless-faceless man was taunting them, both of them, and making them wish for it to all go away.

After unearthing their theory, they stayed at the station for a few more hours. Their latest victim had been killed the morning after Olivia's latest Flanny performance, which alone made him go pale. It meant that the bastard was there that night and watched her. He was so close to her, and Elliot would have never known until now.

Elliot's worst fear was coming to life. If they didn't move quickly, it could be Olivia's body on Melinda's slab next time, he drinks at the thought.

It's getting cold now, and he thinks he should be inside with her, attaching himself to her with a pair of cuffs and a fully loaded service weapon.

Fin and Munch volunteered to stay overnight, organizing a timeline to pinpoint a when and why. Lord knows Olivia would do it if they weren't told to go home early. As soon as they sat in the car to go home, Olivia was angry.

"I don't want to fucking go home. We have a case to build and people to talk to, Elliot. There is a serial murder-rapist out there and they sent us home…."

Elliot.

Elliot

"Elliot," Olivia whispered, "What are you doing out here? You don't smoke."

"Just thinking."

"Thinking requires you to look like John Wayne?"

The cigarette hung aimlessly in his hand.

Maybe he wasn't doing much thinking after all.

The sluggish, mind-numbing cloud didn't make him think much of anything.

"I should have thrown those things out after the party," she says, taking the cigarette from his fingers and snuffing it out.

He chuckles.

"I smoked in the corp. It passed the time until whatever came next." He gestures with his hand.

Olivia nodded, "So what comes next?"

"I don't have a fucking clue," he shook his head, "Every scenario I play in my head ends up with you getting hurt," He leaned against her, wrapping his arm protectively around her, "You smell good."

She chuckles, "You smell like beer and cigarettes," she kisses him, "You taste like it too."

Elliot grins against her mouth, "Cragen's getting other departments involved with the case. Homicide is staking out Flannigans for suspicious characters and running background checks on its employees. All hands on deck."

Olivia scoffs, "Except ours."

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, "How are you holding up?"

Her eyes are unreadable, but frustration tinges her lips, and her cheeks are sharp and jagged, "I'm mad at myself. The pattern. The place. The times. It makes me want to crawl under the covers and die."

"Don't say that."

"It's how I feel, Elliot," her hand comes to her heart, "These women were raped and murdered because I just had to be on that stage. I had no business being up there to begin with."

It wasn't that simple, he thinks.

"If you never were up there…I would never have seen you again."

"You would have." She counters.

"But how much sooner? Or would I have gone another nine years without you?"

"El, I would have seen you the next morning," she reminds him, "I transferred to SVU, and I would have seen you. I would have been your partner no matter the chances."

Olivia was right, Elliot had thought, on her first day at SVU, and he didn't know she was in Cragen's office, ready to be introduced, but now that he thinks about it, he can't help but wonder what his reaction would have been…

"Would you have looked at me the same? If we met again in the precinct and not Flannigan's? Would I just be your partner, or would we be here…now?"

"If this is about time—"

"Would you have looked at me the same?" He stared, "Would you look at me like I'm looking at you now…."

With so much love

"I think it would have taken some time…but it wouldn't be long until I'd fallen in love all over again…."

Elliot nodded, "Something in my heart told me I was supposed to go out that night after work with the guys," he grinned, "I was just going through the motions. I wasn't expecting something spectacular to happen," he remembers, "I saw you up there and I wasn't going to talk to you."

"You weren't?"

Elliot sipped his beer, "No. I wasn't."

"Why?"

"You looked happy. Much happier than when I left. When you stopped writing, I thought it meant we were done. Munch of all people told me to talk to you, and I couldn't. I didn't want to complicate your life more than I already had."

"What are you saying?"

"I love you," he whispers, "But I would have let go if it meant you were happy with someone else."

Olivia took the empty bottle in his hand and placed it down on the step beside her. She straddled his lap, "Don't let go now."

Elliot looked into her beautiful brown eyes and simpered.

He wouldn't let go now.

He wouldn't let go ever.

"We can't control what happens next," he whispers against her lips, "I want this guy dead and buried under six feet of cement."

"Six feet, huh?"

"Maybe seven," He tilts his head in thought and laughs at his ridiculousness, "I can't lose you."

Olivia sniffles into his shirt, curls around him, and pecks soft kisses on his hot neck.

"You're gonna get me all fired up, Liv."

"Maybe that's the point," she giggles, "How'my doing so far?"

"Good, real good," he squeezes her tighter, "We're not fucking on the porch, though, babe. Come with me, just a minute. I want to show you something in the garage."

"You don't have one of those creepy sex dungeons, do you?"

He laughs, "No, just follow me."

Olivia nodded and took his hand as he guided her to the driveway. The gravel crunched their feet. The further they walked out together, the more worried Olivia became.

What the fuck was out in the garage?

Elliot jammed the key in the knob and twisted the lock, pulling the retracting door overhead. He stepped inside first, and Olivia was staring curiously at the large dark mass under the dusty beige painter's tarp. Elliot pulled the cover back like a magician; Olivia chucked, catching a glimpse of the polished emblem she'd never thought she'd see again.

"You kept it."

"Yeah. I thought my mother sold it for scrap after my father died, but she held onto it for me until I could be home for good. She knew what it meant to me."

Elliot looked at Olivia, whose face was plastered with amazement and wonder.

Olivia remembers Elliot teaching her how to drive. Serena never owned a car. She didn't need to because they lived in the city. Elliot had gotten his license first, and she would be close behind. He didn't want her to fail; the last thing Olivia Benson ever did was fail.

1983

He'd dragged her out to an empty lot in the middle of the night.

"No," she shook her head, "Absolutely not."

"No isn't an option. It's on the test, Liv. It's thee test."

"What if I hit something?"

"You can't hit anything in an empty parking lot, Liv. We're gonna start slow. You remember which is the gas and which is the brake?"

She nodded, "Got it."

"I won't let anything bad happen."

Olivia gripped the steering wheel tighter, "Okay..okay, fine…let's go."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"You gonna start the truck first?" He laughed.

"Fuck," she cursed, "I'm doomed."

"Where's the dent in the bumper? The crack across the windshield? Jesus El, is this even the same truck?"

"It's the same. When I came home unemployed, I needed a project to keep me busy. Hammered out all the dents, polished the body, and did some serious work under the hood. The interior needs work." He explained.

"You never touched the inside?" She asked.

Elliot nodded, "Still smells like chewing tobacco and Aqua Velva."

"I cannot believe you wore that crap. You weren't even old enough to shave."

Elliot laughs, "I don't know, Liv. My girlfriend seemed to dig it."

Olivia rolls her eyes, "God, I was the girlfriend."

Olivia opened the passenger side door and climbed into the seat, immediately fishing her arm under the bench for something.

"What are you doing?"

"The bag, the crown royal bag, it should be under here."

Olivia finds the faded purple bag and dumps its contents into her lap. The bag was chaotic: Polaroid pictures, seashells, bottle caps, little handwritten notes passed between the duo.

"Your handwriting has not changed a bit," Olivia giggled.

"Yours is perfect as usual."

With the bag's contents spread on her lap, she remembers vividly why she kept these miscellaneous trinkets, to begin with, and it all stemmed back to her mother.

Serena would have thrown it all away.

Memories. She would have thrown away memories.

"I would have never forgiven her if she'd thrown all this away," Olivia said quietly, "It was better if she never got her hands on it."

"And she won't."

Olivia tucked the items back into the baggie, "I'm going to…bring this inside."

"I'll wrap up here."

Olivia nodded and climbed down from the truck.

Elliot's cellphone rang, and the number was one he did not recognize.

"Stabler."

"I did a lot of thinking."

"If you're calling to do penance, I'm the last person you should be talking to."

"She doesn't want to hear from me, Elliot…and I don't blame her either."

"Have you been drinking?"

"No, not that I haven't thought about it."

"Thinking about it is one thing. Doing it is another. That's good."

"Olivia left a message on my machine. She moved."

"She moved in with me. I asked her to. I have a house in Queens."

"Queens?"

"Yeah. She loves it."

"I'm sure."

"Serena. Why did you call me?"

"What you said the last time in my apartment. I've been thinking about it since. You said that…The people…who were supposed to love you the most…hurt you…he beat you, didn't he?"

"Who?"

"Your Father."

"Yeah, but that was a long time ago."

"What did he do to seek redemption?"

"Nothing. He did nothing. He died when I was overseas."

"I suppose I only have myself to blame," Serena sighs, "We didn't get off on the right foot, you and I, and…I'd like to apologize. You came to me to speak about Olivia. I didn't give you much of a chance."

"No, you were too busy trying to seduce me, Miss Benson." Elliot snarked.

"I'd like to apologize for that as well. It's taken me too long to see what you mean to her."

"She means the world to me."

"Mountains can't move in a day, and I know that. I think calling her would only depress her….just tell her I'm doing okay. Not great. But okay."

"I will." Elliot thinks for a second, "While I have you on the line…I figured I should tell you I'm asking Olivia to marry me. I'm not asking for your blessing…I just figured I'd give you a heads up."

"Olivia has never needed my permission for anything, Elliot."

"No, she has not," he muses, "I love her."

"Just remember to tell her you love her every day. I wish I did."

"I always do."

Elliot hung up his cellphone and tucked it back in his pocket, utterly shocked and baffled at the civilized conversation with a woman he despised. He reaches under the driver's side of the bench seat and pulls out the faded stormy blue ring box he's had for more years than he could count. Inside was the ultimate token of his everlasting love for Olivia and what was meant to be given to her almost ten years ago. The sensitivity of this case and Serena's call put his heart in a vice.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow he will ask Olivia to be his wife.

A/N: Kinda lost myself for a while. I've been having fun reading other writers' stories and admiring the heart and soul they pour into them. Stay with me! The heat is turning up shortly.

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