A/N: Here we are, at the end of this crazy, random story.

While this story definitely has some loose ends and is left open for a possible sequel when I feel like writing EO again, I really hope that you enjoy the way this ends, and that I did it justice.

Thank you so much for following along (and waiting patiently). And for every single review, I appreciate them so much!

TW: Mentions of Lewis/violence/assault.

CHAPTER 7 - REDEMPTION

It would be a lie, claiming that she has never thought about what kissing him would be like. She has thought about it a lot actually. Much more than she would ever be willing to admit.

There have just been too many almosts. Too many times where it was so, so tempting. And yet, neither of them had caved.

Not until two weeks ago.

And every single day since, she has tried to convince herself that it didn't change anything. And every single day since, she has failed. Because it most definitely changed absolutely everything.

Before he left, she had caught herself thinking about it in the car, while undercover, after closing a particularly hard case. Kissing him in Rome, as a reaction to almost losing him again, in an attempt to avoid talking about the one thing she just can't talk about? She hadn't thought about that.

Her finger keeps tracing over his name on her screen, her mind going over all the pros and cons repeatedly, to the point where it triggers a brewing headache. So she scrolls to the top of the list, finding a different name.

"Liv?"

"Calling at a bad time?" She looks at her phone again to check the time before moving it back to her ear.

"Not at all, I'm out with Frannie."

"You're not working?"

"It's 11 pm, I do have some time off."

"Right. Sorry." Olivia shakes her head while lifting herself up from the bed. "The longer I'm here, the more I keep forgetting about time zones."

"How you've been? Haven't talked in a couple of days."

"Better." And it's not a lie this time. Confused? Yes. Exhausted? Definitely. But somethings has changed, all though she doesn't know what.

"Talk to him yet?"

"Nope."

"He's still calling?"

"And texting." Olivia mumbles as she moves out on the balcony, breathing in that Italian air that has turned noticeably warmer since she first arrived.

"Must've been one amazing kiss."

Amanda's comment makes her smile. All things considered, it most definitely was an amazing kiss. Painful, but still breathtakingly amazing.

"Hey, are you doubting my kissing skills?" She shoots back.

"I would never." The playfulness in the detectives voice makes her laugh, appreciating that not everything has to be so goddamn serious all the time.

But some things, whether she wants it or not, are serious. Very serious.

"I think I'm ready to see him."

"You're ready to tell him what happened?"

"No, not really. But I think I have to."

"Today?"

Her fingers keep tapping restlessly against the railing, as if what she says next is a commitment to herself. "I think so."

"I'll be on standby. If you need me."

"You don't ha-"

"I know." The other woman interrupts. "I want to."

"Amanda?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. So much." There will come a time after all of this, when she's ready to set foot in New York again, where she will sit down with this woman and tell her in greater detail just how grateful she is. How her unrelenting support has made all of this just a little easier. God knows Amanda Rollins needs to hear that she's appreciated.

"Always." The blonde says simply, confirming what Olivia was just thinking.

Two hours later, when the knock finally comes, she's been pacing back and forth so long that her feet hurts. And only when she moves towards the door does she realize that she has done nothing to improve the way she looks. It takes her less than two seconds to decide that she doesn't care.

"Nice place." He says after taking a few steps inside.

"Expensive." She responds, blaming the coldness in her voice on the looming conversation ahead.

"How long have you been here?" He looks around, clearly trying to find any clues. Once a detective, always a detective.

She moves over to the minibar, weighing her options before grabbing two bottles of water. "Arrived on the 3rd." She says while handing him one of them.

"Do any sightseeing before… Before what happened?"

"No, uh… No."

"What did you do?"

"I drank. And slept." Olivia answers honestly.

She notices the way his expression changes immediately and in an attempt to delay the inevitable, she cuts in with a question, pointing to where the sling had been the last time she saw him. "How's your shoulder?"

"Almost good as new."

"Good." She tries a smile. "That's good."

Without saying anything more, she walks out on the balcony, drops down in one of the chairs while waiting for him to join her.

"Liv." Elliot says when he eventually sits down in the chair next to hers. "What happened?"

For a while she says nothing. Not because she's considering backing out. But because this will, no matter where they go from here, be a turning point in their relationship. Or whatever this is. Regardless, there will be a before and an after. She knows this will change him, not as much as it changed her, but he won't be the same and she's painfully aware of that as she looks to the partially clouded sky above. Blinking away her tears.

Here we go.

"William Lewis." She finally says, breaking the silence by the sound of that name that she hates more than anything. "William Lewis happened to me."

And then, without holding back. She tells him.

She tells him how frustrated she had been, how hard they had worked to get this man behind bars. How Cragen sent her home when they failed. How he had somehow gotten into her apartment, and how her heart was racing when he pointed that gun to her head.

She tells him about the torture, the burns and the beating and how there are parts she still doesn't remember, and parts she would give anything to forget.

With tears soaking her cheeks, but without actually crying, she tells him about the beach house, how she had thought about him, missed him, wanted him to magically appear and save her.

But then, she tells him how she saved herself. How she mustered up some otherworldly strength to break free. How she beat him, nearly to death, and the hell that followed after. Her recovery, the trial. She tells him about Brian, and the apartment she left behind.

And finally she tells him about that last, fateful encounter. How she had told him to rape her, and not the innocent girl. Hands tied, him grinding against her while fumbling with her belt. The Russian roulette.

The blood trickling down her face.

And how she somehow found herself on a plane to Rome, to escape the carnage that William Lewis had left in his wake.

She doesn't look at him until her story is finished. Only then does she feel somewhat ready for her eyes to find his, to read and search his face for whatever reaction he might have.

His cheeks are tear soaked, too. Eyes red, hands trembling. "I'm so, so sorry." He whispers, looking so deep into her eyes that she can't help but accept what is both his sympathy and an apology. Suddenly realizing that this was what she needed all along; For him to know. For them to be back in sync, even if it meant him feeling her pain.

"So sorry." He repeats.

She gives him a nod, clears her throat as she gets up from the chair. "I need a shower." Because some things might never change.

He moves to get up too, clearly thinking that this is his cue to leave. But that's when she stops him. "No. Sit. Stay."

He looks at her, confused.

"I want you to stay."

At first, Olivia doesn't know how or why, something feels very wrong and very right all at once.

There's a man in her bed, which feels wrong. But her mind is quick to remind her that it's just him, and that feels strangely right.

Still, she's wearing only an oversized T-shirt and he's fully dressed, and it annoys her how vulnerable that makes her feel. Because she knows that he would never take advantage of her and that she has no reason to be anxious.

"You still want me to stay?" He had asked gently, sitting down carefully on the other side of the bed after she had moved under the covers. Finding herself utterly drained after telling him everything.

"Yeah." She had simply responded, eyes closed.

He hasn't moved, but she has. Because she's pretty sure that her arm wasn't thrown over his chest when she fell asleep. No, she had been facing the other way.

But now her hand is resting high on his torso, almost close enough for her fingers to reach out and touch the warm skin on his neck.

God, I want to touch him.

The thought surprises her. Catches her off guard. Because it doesn't feel forced. She doesn't have to convince her brain that she wants anything. She just wants. Unconditionally.

He shifts a little, and it makes her wonder if he's just pretending to be asleep to avoid the awkwardness.

But is it awkward, though?

It feels strangely normal to be close to him like this. Like they've done it for decades. No, more like centuries.

It's kinda cheesy, she thinks. But it does feel like that. Like she already knows his body and he knows hers.

So she moves her hand a little, not much, but enough for her fingers to trace over what little of him that isn't covered by clothes.

There's a reaction. Immediate, but still barely noticeable. A small twitch around his closed eyes that she's able to make out even in the poorly lit room. She moves again. Her hand traveling down his chest, slowly, scooting her body just a few inches, closer.

For a few seconds she feels bad, because clearly he was actually asleep, and she's waking him up. But the guilt subsides when he lets out something that sounds a lot like an approving hum.

You awake? She wants to ask, but she can't seem to find her voice, so instead she lets her hand do the talking, for now.

She stops when she reaches the part of his shoulder where the bandage under his shirt makes the fabric more crinkled.

Does it hurt? Again, her voice fails her so she lets her hand rest there without putting too much pressure on the two week old wound.

No, it's fine, he seems to say when suddenly his hand moves over hers, holding it there. Almost as a reminder that he's ok. That they're ok. That this was just another thing for them to survive, together. God knows that list was long enough to begin with.

Finally, he open his eyes and turns to look at her. Making her breath hitch, because christ, he has never looked at her like that before.

A few times, a lifetime ago, she thought she might have seen something similar. A short glimmer that seemed to say "I want you, too."

But nothing like this. Definitely not like this.

She's just about to force a few words out, just to break the tension. But that's when he turns on his side, facing her. And suddenly their lips are just inches apart. She feels his breath against her skin and it might just be the most exhilarating thing she has ever felt.

His stare doesn't falter as he moves in, closer, and closer until their lips finally touch. Until she quietly hums against him and opens her mouth before he gets the chance to do it with his tongue.

Kiss me like this, she tells him without actually telling him. Kiss me like you've been in love with me just as long as I have been in love with you. I need to feel it.

And he does.

Those thoughts? That told her she was too ruined for him? Or that all those years together, whatever she thought they had, was all in her head? They dissolve by the sensation of finally having his tongue in her mouth. They dissolve by the sound of him breathing heavily through his nose. By the realization that he wants her. Really, desperately wants her, like this.

She's about to ask him to touch her when his hand moves to her hip, and then her waist, and then higher and higher, over her shoulder, down her back until he pulls her in, pressing their bodies together.

She hates the confines of their clothes now. Because all she wants is to feel his skin against hers. And it isn't even about sex. All though she wants that, too. So much that it aches, in her chest, and between her legs. Everywhere, really.

But more than that, she just wants the safety and familiarity that he provides.

It's like she forgot. In the three years they've been away from each other, it's like her body forgot how she used to feel when he was close to her. Maybe it's because when he left, it felt like losing an actual limb and all that was left, was a maddening sense of phantom pain.

But he's here now, and the heat radiating from his body, the strength in his arms, brings it all back. Making her want him more than ever.

She wants to say it out loud. Just like that. I want you.

But it's like her ability to speak has dissolved along with her insecurities, so she does the next best thing. Without breaking the kiss she moves her hand under his shirt. Ghosting the skin that she finds there, before moving the shirt up, giving it a little tug so he gets the message. Take it off.

She breathes a silent sigh of relief when he complies, because the last thing she wants is for him to step on the breaks. They can't stop now. There can't be any breaks tonight.

It's not the first time that she has seen him shirtless, but she never allowed herself to appreciate his body like that. And now he's here and he's accessible and she doesn't need to feel bad for wanting him like this. For loving him like this.

He's finally within reach in every way possible.

His lips are back now and this feels different. She didn't realize how careful he was being at first, because this… This is how she always imagined it would be to kiss him. Breathless, and making her heart hammer wildly from need.

She wants him to make the next move now, almost like she needs him to prove that he doesn't see her as broken. That he trusts her to pause if she needs to. All though, she knows that won't be necessary.

Again, she wants to say it out loud, and again she finds herself unable.

Undress me.

But thankfully, he still knows her. Still able to read her like he always did. She holds her breath when his hand starts moving her T-shirt upwards. Exposing her hips and her underwear, her waist and her ribs, until it's bunched under her breasts.

He stops then, without saying anything. And she wonders if it's his way of bracing himself or asking for permission. It might be both, she decides as she leans back a little to look him in the eye.

It's ok. I'm ok.

With a bit of wiggling the T-shirt is up and over her head in the matter of seconds, and only then does she realize that he's the first person to see her naked since before him.

Because with Brian she never got fully undressed, the few times they had been intimate. She trusted him, and loved him, she really did. But it still changed them, and everything between them.

This feels different.

While those moments with Brian had felt like they were just drifting further apart, this… This feels like coming home.

They keep their eyes locked as the T-shirt falls to the floor behind her, and she can see that he's struggling. Surprisingly, more than her.

So she grabs his hand, the one that isn't wrapped around her neck, and place it over her scarred and exposed chest. Just like he did when she touched that wounded part of him, the part that could've so easily given their story a very different ending.

It's ok. I survived. And I'm here now.

He closes his eyes briefly, and she watch as he clench his jaw. The silent gesture is followed by a trembling sigh.

I know, El. I know.

Before he opens his eyes again she captures his lips with her own, reminding both of them where they are, and what's about to happen. And shortly after hands start roaming.

But that's not what she wants.

There will be time for that later. Time for their hands and mouths to explore and get to know each other on that level. Right now, she just needs to be as close to him as humanly possible. And that includes having him inside of her.

So to make it clear that she needs them to move things along, to show him just how impatient she is getting, she hastily starts working on the buttons of his jeans.

She's grateful when he joins in to help her, instead of slowing things down. He gets it, and maybe that is why she feels so safe right now.

With a bit of fumbling and hurried moves, she's finally where she wants to be; Naked, and pressed up against him. There's a short moment, lasting not more than a few seconds when they break the kiss and just stare at each other.

Surreal, she thinks. Absolutely surreal, and somehow it makes sense nonetheless.

Still on her side, she lifts her leg over his, using her entire body to welcome him, to show him that she's ready. And as their lips meet yet again, he reaches down between them to align himself with her.

While his eyes shut close, hers stay focused on his face as he pushes into her slowly. Her mouth falls open but there's no sound. Not until he's completely buried inside of her and she moves against him, rolling her hips slightly in an attempt to adjust and accommodate him completely.

Her moan is soft, but there's been nothing but silence or heavy breathing between them since they woke up and the sound seem to ignite something in both of them.

"Liv."

That's the first thing he says. Just her name. As simple as that. His voice deep and more groggy than usual.

"Yeah?" She responds with a whisper, followed by another moan.

"You ok?"

"Mhm." Her lips are pursed now, as she's focusing solely on the sensation of finally being filled by him like this. It burns, stings a little, but it's nothing compared to the pleasure that's building by every second, the more that her body is able to adjust to him.

While wrapping one arm around him she moves, pulling him with her until she's on her back. It's risky, she knows that. But for some reason, the fear of triggers and flashbacks have dissipated along with so many other things tonight.

She spreads her legs more, giving him the room he needs to fully settle between them. "Move."

He leans down to kiss her then, and it's fierce, unrestricted and perfectly matches the way he lifts his hips before sinking back down and into her.

"Like this?" He mumbles into her open mouth.

"Yeah." She nods. "More."

The rhythm he sets for them makes her inner walls clench around him and she loves how she can see the effect it has on him. How his mouth falls open, how he tries to look at her, but can't seem to get his eyes to focus on anything because he's just as awestruck as she is.

Her head falls back and that's when his mouth comes down against her neck. Sucking lightly, sending tiny sparks all the way down to her toes and up again until it settles between her legs and low in her stomach.

"You…" He starts, mumbling against her skin, like he wants to tell her a well-kept, ancient secret. "I love you."

She wants to say it back, but instead she chokes and her words get caught in her throat. So she wraps her arms around his back, pulling him closer, almost crushing his body against hers. I love you, too.

As much as she tries, she's unsuccessful at holding back the sob that rumbles out of her. And it makes him pause and look at her with worried eyes. "You ok?"

But she can't deal with that right now. Her body, her mind and her heart is completely, utterly overwhelmed. So instead of answering she motions for him to roll over on his back.

"Liv?" He asks, visibly concerned as she moves to straddle him.

"Just…" She grabs him and moves down slowly, letting out a trembling breath in the process. And then she leans down, resting her elbows on either side of his shoulders. "Move."

"Liv, we can st-"

"El." She interrupts. "I'm ok. But I need you to move. I need to feel you."

He allows himself a couple of seconds to study her face, to search for any sign of discomfort or anxiousness. When he doesn't find any, he moves. Finally.

They groan at the same time when he slams into her. She grabs the headboard and lifts herself up a little, enough to give him the room he needs to keep his thrusts hard and steady.

Groans turn into high-pitched whimpers when he moves his hand between them and rubs two fingers over her most sensitive spot.

"Fuck!" She cries out, her body suddenly reminding her of that sweet and glorious sensation of an impending orgasm. It's been so long that she had started convincing herself that she doesn't need it. But right now, need is the only thing on her mind. Pure, absolute and wonderful need.

In an attempt to make this last just a little longer, and because she wants to look at him when she comes, she leans back. Her hands grabbing and holding onto his strong thighs as she rolls her hips.

"Liv… I'm-"

"Me too." She moans, knowing what he was about to say. I'm close, too.

With her eyes locked with his, she covers his hand with her own, making him move his fingers with just the right amount of pressure, in just the perfect rhythm, until-

"I'm com- Oh, fuh- I'm coming."

She falls forward, clamping down on him as the climax takes her, bringing her to a place she can't even remember existed. And it's different from all the other times before. Different from anyone she has ever been with. It's feral and gentle all at once. It's wild, and messy, and still so delicate. Safe and earth shattering, and everything in between.

He follows her soon after, groaning into her open mouth when he spills inside of her. Coating her inner walls with a desire too many years in the making.

For a moment they stay completely still, eyes open, mouths barely touching. Just breathing each other's air as the reality of what they just did settles both around and between them.

"El?" She finally says, closing her eye briefly when the evidence of his release and her arousal starts to trickle out of her. The intimacy of it all just getting to her, causing her stomach to flutter.

He breaths out a quiet "yeah?"

She opens her eyes again.

"I love you, too."

Finis.