Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.

Author's Note: I am not Catholic and am aware that the services are different than the Baptist ones that I participate in every Sunday. The church scene is short and is only shown for a specific purpose, so please take no offense.

Ring…Ring…Ring…Ring…

A moan floated out from the lump in the middle of the bed. Elliot struggled to push the covers off of himself and reached for the phone, knocking it off the base. He cursed and sat up all the way, leaning down to retrieve it.

"Hello?" he grumbled.

The amused voice of his partner floated into his ear. "Hey…" she asked. "Um…are you planning on me walking to your church?"

"What?" he asked, startled, and shot his hand over to the clock, turning it to face him. It was 9:40. "Fuck!" He scrambled out of bed.

"Ooh…" Olivia grinned. "Nice, Elliot. It's always good to start the church attitude with cursing."

"I'm sorry, Olivia," he said, hurriedly tearing a shirt off of a hanger. "I totally crashed last night. I must have forgotten to set the alarm." He searched through his closet for a black belt to wear with his slacks. "I'll be at your place in thirty minutes."

She scoffed. "You better not be," she warned. It took at least fifty to get from Queens to Manhattan. "The last thing you need is for Cragen to find out you've gotten a speeding ticket."

"Just be ready," he said, and hung up before she could protest that he was the one not ready. Shaking her head, she placed her cell phone back in her purse and sat back down in the chair of the lobby, watching through the doors for her partner's truck.

She was absolutely shocked when he squealed to a stop in front of her building twenty-five minutes later. He left the engine running and jumped out, hopping up the front steps of the building quickly. He was startled when the door opened as he was reaching for the buzzer and Olivia stepped out.

"Sorry," he said breathlessly. "Come on." He waited for her to pass and walked down the steps after her.

Ever the gentleman, he stepped in front of her as she reached the truck and opened the door. She looked at him in surprise. "Thank you," she said, sliding in. He grinned and shut the door, dashing around the front to the driver's side.

He checked his mirror and pulled away from the curb, zooming toward the expressway. Olivia looked at him suspiciously. "How fast were you driving, Stabler?"

He grinned wickedly. He had done at least 70 all the way to Manhattan. "Don't ask," he replied, waggling his eyebrows mischievously. She chuckled and rolled her eyes.

"You look nice," he commented after a minute, turning to look at her. It was the truth. He could hardly remember the last time he had seen Olivia in a skirt….he always wondered why she never wore them. Of course, he was old-fashioned…he always thought a woman looked her best when she dressed up.

She smiled. "Thanks," she said again. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow in approval. "So do you."

Elliot's attire wasn't that much different than what he usually wore to work every day, but he still looked very handsome in his black slacks and light grey shirt. He wore a black silk tie and his shiny black shoes looked new, although knowing him, he had probably had them for a while and had just never worn them.

He flashed a grin. "Thanks."

"How late did you stay up last night?" she asked with raised eyebrows. It wasn't like Elliot to oversleep.

He shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I finished the living room at about midnight, but I couldn't fall asleep for some reason." He shrugged again, raising a playful eyebrow.

They arrived at the church just before the service started and slipped into a pew near the middle. He let out a breath, relieved they had made it on time, and settled into the seat.

Olivia let out a breath too, trying to dispel the feeling of tension that always arose when she was in a church. She was startled when Elliot leaned over to her.

"Hey, Liv?" he said softly. He smiled when she looked at him. "Thanks for coming with me."

Olivia smiled warmly.

The choir special was beautiful and she couldn't stop the tears that welled up in her eyes as they sang. She knew that Elliot noticed, and waited for him to comment. But he didn't. He simply smiled and lightly rested his hand over hers.

The bishop rose when the choir finished and stood behind the pulpit. "Ushers, please come forward for offering collection," he said. The four men walked toward the pulpit to retrieve the collection plates. She was startled when Elliot turned to her and handed her an envelope. "Put this in for me."

She looked at him in confusion. Before she could comment, though, the bishop spoke again. "Today's offering special will be performed by Mr. Elliot Stabler."

Her eyes widened and she swiveled her head to look at her partner in shock. He winked as he stood up and walked to the piano beside the pulpit. Sitting down, he lifted his fingers to the keys and looked up for the bishop's signal. The old man nodded with a smile and he softly began to play.

Olivia couldn't keep her jaw from dropping. She'd been his partner for seven years and had no idea he could play, much less like that. The song was symphonic-worthy. She continued to watch in astonishment, seeing the obvious pleasure that the playing was giving him. His eyes had closed and he seemed to be putting his soul into the song with each nimble stroke of the keys.

The audience began applauding when he was through and he jumped, momentarily forgetting about them. He blushed as he stepped down and returned to the pew.

Olivia smiled widely when he slid next to her and squeezed his hand. "That was amazing," she whispered. He blushed again and she squeezed once more.

Despite how beautiful it was, Olivia was ashamed to admit that she didn't pay attention to the rest of the service. She jumped when she felt Elliot's hand on her shoulder. He looked at her in confusion.

"You ready?" he asked.

She shook herself quickly. "Yeah," she said, getting to her feet. "Yeah."

She followed him up the aisle. It took a while to get to the front doors because someone seemed to stop Elliot every ten feet to compliment his playing. She smiled. She didn't think she had ever seen her partner blush so much.

"So, you want to go have lunch?" he asked as they were getting in the truck. "Or do you have plans?"

She shook her head. "No plans, except maybe grocery shopping." She smiled. "Unless you want to do that for me."

He smirked. "Ah….pass," he said. "Thanks anyway."

They went to a nearby Chinese restaurant for lunch, and Olivia insisted on paying for his since he had paid for her the day before.

"It was a hot dog, Olivia," he protested as he pulled out his wallet. "Four dollars isn't going to break me."

She rolled her eyes and snatched the bill away from his reach. "Your lunch was seven dollars," she said. "I think I can afford it, Elliot."

He shook his head, admitting defeat. "Well, I'm getting the tip then," he said firmly, pulling out some money. He tossed it down on the table and looked at her challengingly. She rolled her eyes again as they got up to leave.

"So what time are you getting back tomorrow?" Olivia asked as he pulled up to her building and stopped the truck.

"Hopefully no later than seven," Elliot replied. "But that all depends on how fast I can get Kathy's lawyer off my back." He smiled wryly. "Thanks for coming, Liv. I appreciate it."

"You know, it surprises me…." She smiled at his confused look. "But I actually enjoyed it." Her eyes narrowed suddenly. "Hey, yeah…what's up with this morning? How come I never knew that you played the piano?"

He shrugged, looking decidedly embarrassed. "I-I don't know," he said uncomfortably. "It's no big deal, Olivia…I play sometimes."

She gaped at him. "No big deal?" she repeated in astonishment. "Elliot, that was the most fantastic thing I've ever heard! You have real talent there….I think it's a very big deal."

He was blushing furiously again. "It's not something I like to broadcast, ok?" he mumbled. "I don't do it a lot…I usually play the offering music once a month or so if I can get there." He glanced at her defensively. "It's a way to relax for me. My mom taught me when I was eight."

She smiled, seeing his discomfort, and gave him a break. "Well, you did awesome," she said seriously, turning to look him in the eye. "I mean that, Elliot. It was beautiful."

He looked surprised and smiled after a minute. "Well…" he said. "Thank you."

Smiling, she opened the door. "Thanks for the ride," she said as she got out. "See you….I guess Tuesday?"

He nodded. "Yep," he confirmed. "Bye, Liv."

She waved as she walked up the front steps and unlocked the door. He waved back, driving off once she was safely inside.

The phone rang as he stepped inside his apartment. Shutting the door, he ran to grab it.

"Hello?"

There was a slight pause before a hesitant voice responded. "Hi, Elliot."

Elliot froze, clutching the phone tightly in his hand. After a minute, he said softly, "Hi, Kathy."

There was an awkward pause. Clearing his throat, he ventured, "How-how are you?"

"I'm ok," she said, sounding just as nervous as he was. Another pause. "You?"

He nodded instinctively. "Good….I'm doing good."

Yet another brief silence. He rolled his eyes nervously toward the ceiling, sitting down slowly on the couch.

"Well, I…" Her words came in a sudden rush. "I just wanted to make sure you were ok…I mean with the meeting change and everything," she hurried to say. "I'm sorry it was so last minute. I had just found out myself when I called." She swallowed hard and fell silent.

Why was it so hard to talk to him? This was Elliot…the boy she had fallen hard for at 17 years old…the same one who had been the first person she had ever told that she loved…the man who could make her laugh no matter how shitty of a day she was having… the man she had devoted herself to for twenty years.

She listened as he cleared his throat slightly, a nervous habit that she had become accustomed to, and she could see him right now, scratching absently behind his left ear like he always did when he was tense.

"Yeah," he said after a minute, cursing himself for sounding so pathetic. "It's not a problem…I cleared it with Cragen, so I've got the whole day."

"Oh, good," she said, a little too quickly in her mind. "That's good."

Why was it so hard to talk to her? This was Kathy…the girl who had made him drool the first time he had seen her in her track uniform when he was 18…the same one who had written "E.S. & K.M. Forever" in his high school yearbook the year he graduated…the woman who had the power to make him melt when she smiled…the woman he had devoted himself to for twenty years.

She divorced you, dumb ass. Maybe that could have something to do with it.

After another silence, she said, "Well…I just called to make sure, Elliot. I…I'll let you go now."

He sighed suddenly. "Kath…"

She inhaled sharply at the use of her nickname. "Yeah?"

He bit his lip. For the briefest of seconds, he was tempted to tell her that he missed her…needed her…was dying without her.

Elliot closed his eyes and blew through his teeth. "Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "Never mind." He sighed lightly. "I guess I'll…see you tomorrow."

She nodded nervously without realizing it. "Yeah," she said. "Guess so." After a minute, she said softly, "Goodbye, Elliot."

He closed his eyes again. "Bye, Kathy."

Leaning forward, he let the phone drop the floor and scrubbed his eyes wearily. After a minute, he picked the phone back up and stood, walking over to hang it in its cradle.

Sighing heavily, his gaze wandered to the bookshelf, lingering over the picture of her. Then he moved over to the photo of his mother.

Walking over to the far end of the room, he sat down in front of the electric keyboard and began to play.

"YES!" Fin leaped up from his couch in excitement at the monster grand slam that the Red Sox had just scored. "That's what I'm talking about, baby!" He strutted over to the television, grinning. "Take that, Atlanta!"

The phone rang. Crossing over to the couch again, he picked it up and pressed the mute button on the remote. "Hello."

"Hey," Munch said.

He groaned before another word could come out of his partner's mouth. "No," he said immediately.

John started on the other end. "What?" he asked. "Wh-"

"We're supposed to be off today, man," Fin said desperately. "If you're calling about a case, don't even finish speaking."

"Sorry," his partner said wryly. "Come on, Fin…when have we ever really been 'off'?"

Fin groaned again pathetically and flopped down on the sofa in defeat. "What is it?" he grumbled.

"Seems our good friend Andrew Willis has just made a surprise appearance in Chinatown," Munch said. "Cragen wants us down there to make the collar."

"What about Liv and Elliot?" he protested. "Why didn't he call them to do it?"

"According to him, we got a free day yesterday because of the trial prep," he replied. "So he's giving it to us."

"Yeah, right," Fin muttered. "'Free day' my ass…let's see him sit in stuffy office for eight hours and listen to an attorney."

He about jumped ten feet when he heard the captain's voice suddenly. "Actually, I have been known to sit in an office for long periods of time, Detective."

"Shit!" he squawked in surprise. "I…I mean-Captain, I was just…"

Cragen smirked. "No harm, no foul," he said easily. "I was a detective once too, you know."

Fin smacked his forehead harshly, blushing. "Where's it going down, Captain?"

"Corner of 23rd and Dunston," Munch piped up. "I'm on my way now."

"Right," he replied. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Fin," Cragen said. "Fill me in when you guys get back." He hung up and resumed working.

Fin waited until he heard the click before exploding. "Asshole!" he seethed in astonishment. "I can't believe you would do that! That was low even for you! What the hell is your problem?"

Munch waited patiently until his partner finished his verbal explosion. "You done?" he said calmly once he stopped.

"That was dirty, man," he muttered. "Fucking dirty."

"It wasn't my doing," John said. "Cap called me first and told me to put you on three-way to save time." He scoffed. "I would have warned you if I had known you were going to say something like that."

"Sure you would have," Fin retorted, rolling his eyes. He sighed and looked at the muted television scornfully. "Looks like I'll miss the rest of the game."

John smirked. "The Braves are going to kick your ass," he said. He personally didn't care for baseball, but he enjoyed any chance to yank his partner's chain. Fin had been talking about this game since the day before.

His partner snorted. "In your dreams," he said, and hung up on him.

Splat!

Elliot grimaced when he felt something wet hit him directly between the eyes and paused, one hand coming up to wipe it away. There was amber fluid on it when he pulled it back.

Frowning, he put the paint roller back into the bucket at his left and walked over to the portion of the wall by the bed, running his hand over the wood paneling.

More amber-colored liquid appeared on his hand. "Damn it," he muttered, stepping back again. Stepping over the bucket once more, he reached for the brown can again and dipped the small paint brush into it.

After his talk with his ex-wife, Elliot had spent the next two hours attempting the next biggest challenge in the apartment- his bedroom. He had made quite a dent and was proud of himself.

The queen-sized mattress was now set up with a fluffy navy blue comforter, matching sheets, and two huge pillows that looked so comfortable that he was anticipating going to bed that night. He had unpacked and put away the rest of his clothes in the closet and small dresser, and had set up his small television on a table in the corner of the room.

He planned to give the entire apartment a new coat of paint and had wanted to start with the living room, but after setting up his bedroom he had decided to begin there instead. It had been an extremely time-consuming and tedious process putting primer on the walls, and now that he was starting to paint he was finding that the primer wasn't drying very well.

Going over to the other side of the room, he tested out the primer on that wall carefully. He sighed with relief to find it was dry. Shaking his head, he left the other side half-finished and brought the paint over to that wall.

Olivia pushed the door to her apartment open with her foot once she had unlocked it and struggled inside. Her purse slipped precariously low on her shoulder as she concentrating on juggling the laundry basket and three grocery bags that she had in her arms.

Dropping the basket of clothes that she had just finished washing onto a chair, she went into the kitchen and deposited the groceries on the counter. The light on the answering machine was blinking. Hanging up her keys, she pressed the button.

"Olivia, it's Captain Cragen."

She froze as his voice filtered through her apartment. She had remembered to turn her cell phone on, hadn't she? Oh, boy… He was probably pissed.

A chuckle was heard. "Don't worry, Detective," the message continued. "You're home free today. I was just letting you know that we've got Andrew Willis in custody now; Fin and Munch arrested him at about four o'clock this afternoon."

She relaxed, glancing at the clock. It was quarter to seven.

"Be prepared to start processing him tomorrow morning. For right now, this takes precedence over the Schillings case. See you in the morning." Click.

She chuckled at her initial nervousness. When she had first become a cop, she dreaded having anyone from work call her on a day off…she had almost gone so far as to unplug her phone.

Her stomach growling brought her attention back to the present. She emptied the grocery bags and poked through to find the bag of lunch meat she had just bought. She made herself a turkey sandwich and nibbled it while she put the groceries away.

Glancing at the clock again, she picked up the remote lying on the breakfast bar and flipped on the TV. The opening scenes of "Desperate Housewives" were just beginning.

She brought the basket of laundry into the living room and sat down on the couch, absently pulling articles of clothing out while she watched the show. After a little while of pulling out silk panties and soft blouses, her hand encountering a stiffer material caught her attention.

She glanced down at the basket as she pulled out the shirt that Elliot had been wearing the day before. She lifted it and inspected it carefully to be sure that all of the coffee stain had been removed.

Nodding in approval, she laid the shirt to the side to iron later and focused on the show again.

Blowing through his cheeks, Elliot bent down and loudly snatched up the last of the plastic covering off of the floor of the bedroom. He balled it up and threw it into the pile that had collected by the door.

He looked around, feeling a ridiculous amount of happiness at the sense of accomplishment that surged through him. He had always been that way. One thing he hated was not being organized.

The walls looked like fresh and new. He had coated them with light green paint, just to give the room a little vibrancy. It worked. He felt better just looking at them.

Nodding in satisfaction, he picked up the tray of green paint and carefully walked out into the living room with it. He poured the remaining paint back into the can by the door and dropped the tray next to it before going back into the bedroom.

He gathered up the plastic and carried it out to the living room as well. Dropping it next to the other items, he walked through the kitchen and retrieved the flattened boxes that had collected after unpacking everything.

Grabbing his keys as he crossed back through the kitchen, he looped them around his fingers and dropped the boxes next to his accumulated pile. For a moment he stood back, debating how he was going to do this.

After a minute, he stacked the cardboard into a compressed pile. Reaching for the plastic next, he wrapped it around the paint roller and dropped it on top of the cardboard. Gathering up the remaining pieces that hadn't wrapped around, he dropped the paint-filled tray on top of them to hold them in place.

Carefully picking up the entire pile, he stood for a minute to balance everything out to be sure it was going to work. Once he was satisfied, he carefully held it in one hand while he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

Not bothering to lock all of the locks, he reclaimed his careful hold on the pile and walked to the elevator.

The night air was heavy and hot when he pushed through the back doors, a stark contrast to the frigid air-conditioning of the building. Elliot walked around to the dumpster, balancing the pile in one hand as he lifted the lid. He hefted everything inside and slammed the lid shut again. Wiping his hands on his shorts, he unlocked the back door and walked back inside the building.

Getting off the elevator at his floor, he walked down the hall toward his apartment. He still couldn't get over how quiet it was in this place. It seemed like he was the only one there sometimes. Quickly going into his apartment, he locked the door behind him and headed straight for the bedroom again.

He shucked off the old t-shirt he had worn to paint in and threw it in the hamper. Walking shirtless down the hall, he pulled a towel from the linen closet and headed for the shower.

He emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later much more relaxed and ready to take it easy for the rest of the night. He glanced at the clock as he walked into the kitchen. It was only 9:00, but he was pretty worn out from painting all afternoon. Shutting off the lights, he grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and headed for his bedroom.

After brushing his teeth, he pulled back the comforter and climbed into the bed. A sigh of contentment escaped his lips as he pulled the material back around his body. This was much, much better.

Reaching up to turn off the light, he flipped on the TV and relaxed against the pillows. He had gotten maybe halfway through the channels when he was suddenly reminded of what was going to be happening in the morning.

Fuck. So much for relaxing. He sighed and put the remote back on the bedside table, not really interested in what was on the TV anymore. Leaning back against the pillow, he stared up at the ceiling as his mind began spinning full-force, promising that sleep was not going to come for a while.