As he promised his family, Elliot heads to his apartment on the Upper West Side after he ditches the Albanians Friday afternoon. As messed up as everything's been, he's grateful that he's at least gained their trust so it didn't look suspicious when he dipped for a couple of days to visit a sick relative upstate —

At least that's what he told them.

His new place is...nice. It doesn't feel like home just yet, but he supposes he would have to actually be home more to feel truly comfortable there.

It's alarming, really, how quickly he's gotten used to sleeping in the back of a rickety van that makes his bones creak in the morning when he rolls gracelessly off the mattress he shoved in the back.

Elliot had thought briefly about moving back to Queens, but the memories there were too painful, brimming with the mixed emotions that came with moving out before he was ready to give up on his marriage and moving in before he was ready to kiss away the dream of Olivia Benson.

It all tied together in a tight knot that fisted its way into his chest when he thought about going back there.

No, he needed something different, a fresh start.

What he needed — quite honestly — was to be close to Olivia again. To know that even when he was on ridiculous undercover missions that she and her son were safely tucked away a few blocks from his apartment.

He misses her with the kind of ferocity that keeps him up at night, keeps his bleary eyes staring into the darkness as he suffocates under the weight of everything he's done to her.

The kind that keeps his fist between his legs when he lets himself fantasize about her golden thighs wrapped around his waist, the silky curtain of her hair shielding them from the gritty reality of the world they're forced to reckon with every goddamn day.

The kind that makes him want to just fucking zip himself up into a new skin when the sun rises so he can lose himself, drown just a little — enough to dull the ache but still be able to come back up for air.

Though lately he's starting to doubt his ability to resurface at all.

Sliding the key into the lock of his front door, Elliot wrangles a couple of pizzas from Celeste's in his other hand, a six-pack balanced precariously on top.

He twists the lock, nudging the door open with his foot. "I'm home and I brought pi - " But the words die on his lips when he spots the woman sitting at his kitchen table next to his daughter and 82-year-old mother.

Like she belongs there.

"Liv," he greets her softly.

Olivia doesn't say anything, just shoots him a small ghost of a smile from beneath the strands of hair that have come loose from her ponytail.

"Olivia heard I was staying with you and came to say hello," Bernie says warmly, draping a weathered hand over Olivia's, which are loosely wrapped around a mug of tea.

"I called her," Kathleen explains. "Grandma was confused about Olivia's whereabouts," she adds carefully, shooting him a knowing look. He flashes back to a few days ago when his mother assumed it was Olivia he married — and buried. "So I just thought I'd invite Olivia over and Grandma could see for herself."

"So you two have met," Elliot confirms. He had his suspicions after what happened with Kathleen 13 years ago, but none of them have ever discussed it.

"Oh, sure," Bernie replies dismissively. "Olivia and I are old friends."

He lifts an eyebrow over that qualifier but Olivia doesn't correct her — the opposite, really, a bright, sincere smile stretching across her mouth. The way she looks at his mother right now is bittersweet, sharp on his tongue.

God, he can't imagine ever wanting more than this, more than what's in front of him — but it's all an illusion.

If he closes his eyes tightly, he can picture it so easily — another lifetime, another quiet evening at home. All he has to do is conjure up the image of a ring on her finger and an extra bedroom down the hallway for Noah.

In his hallucination, the pain behind her eyes is gone, replaced with the light and mirth he'd grown so accustomed to when they were partners.

"Dad?"

Elliot snaps out of his reverie. "Hmm?"

"You okay?" Kathleen asks, concerned. "You went somewhere just now."

He forces a smile. "I'm fine, baby. Just a long day." Realizing he's still holding the pizza and beer he came in with, he settles them down onto the counter and sheds his jacket.

"Liv, you want to stay for dinner? There's plenty."

She shakes her head. "Thanks, but I should really get going - "

"Oh no, Olivia. Please stay," his mother pleads gently. "I wanted to hear all about that perfect little boy of yours. What'd you say his name was?"

"Noah," Elliot interjects without thinking. Olivia's gaze flickers to his, and it's hollow as a shard of pain flashes across her face, wounding him. She holds it there, a beat long enough to make him uncomfortable before she locks it away, turning her attention back to his mother.

He still hasn't met her son, not officially. And he knows without a doubt that he would have already if he hadn't forced them to take two steps backward when he went undercover.

Olivia cranes her neck to peer at the clock on the stove. "I have to go pick him up from his dance class in 45 minutes, but I'll stay until then."

"Dance class?" Bernie asks, clapping her hands together once in delight.

He can still hear them chatting faintly when he steps into the main kitchen area for some plates and napkins.

"It's okay, right? That Liv is here." Kathleen sidles up next to him, pulling down a few glasses from the cabinet.

"'Course it is. Liv's always welcome here," he reassures her, tearing a few paper towels off the holder. "Where's your brother?"

"Soccer practice and then pizza with the team. He said he'd be home by 8."

Elliot opens his mouth wordlessly, closes it. Kathleen cocks her head, amused. "What is it, Dad?"

He clears his throat. "I just really appreciate you taking care of him while I've been gone. I'm sure it's not what you imagined you'd be doing in your free time, but - "

"Dad, please. You're letting me stay here rent-free for awhile. It's no problem."

"Still," he replies softly, shrugging his shoulders. "I appreciate it."

She kisses his cheek. "I love you."

He doesn't deserve her, any of them. "I love you too, Kathleen," he replies roughly.

He's quiet throughout dinner, speaking only when the conversation calls for it. Olivia seems more than happy to talk to his mother and daughter — and vice versa — and he wants that for all of them. He's awed by it, the warmth and the camaraderie between them.

Especially with Liv, whose mood seems to cool significantly whenever she looks over at him. They haven't really talked since that night he stumbled into her apartment and spilled his guts.

He doesn't blame her for being hurt, for resenting having to clean up his mess again. He's been incredibly cowardly when it comes to telling her how he feels — so many moments, all of them wrong.

Hastily adding a line to the end of a letter that his late wife wrote that was filled with half-truths or no truths at all. Handing it off to her and refusing to talk about it when she wanted.

Blurting out his love for her in front of his family, in the middle of a staged intervention.

Confessing the sins of the letter in a drugged-up, out of his mind state when he was in no room to really talk.

Cowardly. All of it.

He hopes he can apologize — really lay it all out on the table — when he's finished with Eddie Ashes, but he has no idea how long it will take.

Though he's afraid it's been too long already. The chasm between them continues to grow and eventually it'll consume everything around them, leaving no room for anything else.

He knows deep in his bones that if he doesn't figure this out soon, he will lose her forever.

When it's time for Olivia to leave, she wraps his mother and daughter in a hug, and they all promise to meet up for lunch soon.

She hesitates when she reaches him and he reads her discomfort like a book. She doesn't want to hug him, far from it, but she also doesn't want to draw attention to the fact that the two of them are in a weird place right now.

Even though neither of them are fooling anyone and there's not a single person in the room right now who doesn't know that.

Still, he feels obligated to give her an out. "Let me walk you to the door."

It's a slow walk, and it feels a little bit too much like he's walking to his death. And yet, he can't help himself, so -

"I know this isn't the time, but - "

"Don't," she cuts in sharply.

"Liv," he says gently.

"Elliot."

"I'm sorry."

She sighs. "Please. Just...don't."

"When I get back though, okay?" he presses. He's got no room to be making requests, but everything feels so urgent now, like she'll slip out of his fingers if he doesn't take the opportunity that's right in front of him.

"Yeah," she huffs out. "Whenever that is."

And then she walks away.

"You're gonna lose that girl, you know? If you're not careful," Bernie says later, after the dishes have been cleared and his children have gone to bed.

It's late now, later than either of them should be up, but it reminds Elliot of some of the more happier times in his childhood, when he'd sneak out of bed after his siblings had fallen asleep. He'd creep down the stairs for an extra snack and inevitably his mother would be up doing something, always a flurry of activity at strange hours.

He knows now that it was her mania, but it doesn't take away from how special that time was with her, just the two of them and a box of cookies. Sometimes they'd pull out a board game or giggle as they snuck into the living room to watch TV, breaking his father's rigid rules around food leaving the kitchen.

And sometimes — his favorite times — they would just sit at the kitchen table and talk.

Like now.

Elliot sips his tea. "She's not mine to lose, Mama."

"Oh, please." She scoffs. "I might be losing my marbles but my eyesight works just fine. That girl loves you, Elliot." Bernie lays her soft hand over his, squeezing gently. "She's a real one. Don't let her slip through the cracks."

"She's been good to me," he agrees. The understatement of the year, really.

"A little too good to you, I think," she says, not unkindly. "She seems...tired. Weary in her bones."

"Liv's been through a lot." He grimaces around a swallow of his tea. "I've put her through a lot," he corrects himself.

"When was the last time, you think? The last time someone took care of her?"

He sighs. "Too long ago."

His mother nods, patting his arm. "She's stubborn, like you."

"I mean, just look atcha." Bernie gestures wildly at him. "You're hiding. Hiding behind this thing on your face and those dreadful clothes."

"I told you, it's for work - "

"Yeah, yeah." She waves him off. "A convenient excuse. For the first time in your life, you might get exactly what you want and you can't handle that. You're scared, Elliot."

He's terrified, actually. Everything he does just seems to make the situation somehow worse, and they're stuck in this cycle of one step forward and two steps back.

And for the first time since he's known Olivia, he's lost the certainty he always had that she trusts him. No matter what, it was their one constant: their trust in each other. The look in her eyes after he shot Navarro, the suspicion glinting back at him — it haunts his dreams.

"I think I'm too late," he rasps, scrubbing at his beard as he looks up at a crack in the ceiling. He can't look at her as he says it, knows it's the perfect impetus for it all to come pouring out of him if he looks at her right now. "God, what if I'm too late?"

"Elliot, listen to me, okay?" She grabs his hand, patting the top of it. "I know you think I'm just your batty old mother, but if you were ever going to pay attention to anything I've told you in your life, it should be this: I have never seen another woman in all of my 82 years look at a man the way Olivia looks at you."

"Mama," Elliot huffs in disbelief. "I know you felt how chilly that kitchen got tonight."

"No, no," she waves dismissively. "I'm not talking about tonight. I'm talking about when she came to see me, when Katie was in trouble."

"She came to see you in LBI?"

"Yes, she asked for my help. We talked about you." She leans in, smiling. "I showed her those adorable photos of you from when you were a little boy in school - "

"Mama, you didn't," Elliot groans, his head falling into his hands.

"What, you were cute!"

Maybe God remembered how cute you were as a carrot.

Those words Olivia had spoken to him after court were the only hint she'd ever given him that she and his mother had met.

"The way her face lit up when she talked about you," his mother gestures, "It was like nothing I've ever seen. That was a woman in love with a man who was married, who could never love her back the way she wanted him to. So...she settled for being his partner."

"Do you have any idea the kind of strength that takes, Elliot? Olivia is not a woman so easily broken, not even by what you've put her through. Give her some credit, would ya?" Bernie rolls her eyes.

"I don't know." He sighs. "Maybe you're right."

"I think that's the first time you've ever said that to me."

He laughs, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. "Don't get used to it."

On Monday morning, Elliot kisses his mother and his children goodbye before he swings by headquarters to check in with Sloot and Bell on his way back to the Albanians.

Sloot greets him with a frown. "Can't wait for you to shave that thing off your face."

"Yeah, yeah. Everyone's a critic." He takes a swig of the gourmet coffee he'd stopped for — he'd made it a regular habit before going under and now he only drinks it when he's able to sneak it in. He can only imagine how much it would hurt Eddie Ashes' street cred if his new friends found out he drinks bougie Italian roast coffee.

"You got anything for me?"

She opens her mouth to respond, interrupted by his Sergeant. "Stabler!"

He turns around to find Bell, standing in the doorway of her office. "Can you come here for a minute, please?" There's a slight urgency in her voice, enough to unsettle him.

Sloot clicks her tongue. "Well, it was nice knowin' ya. Guess you can shave that beard now after all."

He waves her off, heading toward his sergeant as his mind attempts to run through all the possible scenarios before coming up blank. What could have possibly transpired since Friday? Everything was copacetic — and then some — when he dipped.

"What's up?" he asks.

Her brow furrows in concern. "Have you been in touch with Captain Benson?"

His stomach twists uneasily. "She was visiting with my family when I got home on Friday, but otherwise..." He trails off, shrugging. "You told me not to talk to anyone when I was under."

She cocks her head then, shooting him a curious look he can't quite place before she clears her throat, moving on. "Listen, I don't want to overstep here, but you might want to check on her."

The hair on the back of his neck stands up. "What's wrong?"

Ayanna holds up her hands. "Nothing, she's fine. Physically." She hesitates. "But we were both in court this morning and she seemed -"

"What?" he cuts in.

"Not herself," she cages.

"Ayanna, what the hell does that mean?"

"Look Stabler, I don't know how much you're aware of what went down around here while you were in Rome and I respect Captain Benson too much as a friend and a colleague to overstep." She pauses. "Just check on her. Maybe call Tutuola."

What went down while he was in Rome?

Elliot ducks out of the office quickly, pulling up Olivia's contact information on his cell before he changes his mind and calls Fin.

"Hey Stabler. What's up, man? I thought you were undercover."

"I spent the weekend with my family but I'm on my way back to my crew in a bit." He sucks his lip between his teeth. "Listen, is Liv there? I heard something happened in court today."

"Bell told you, huh?"

"Yeah, she's... concerned. What happened?"

"Look, I don't know how Liv would feel about me telling you her business."

His eyes slam closed. "Please, Fin. I just need to know if she's okay."

Fin hesitates. "Between you and me, Liv had a panic attack today."

A panic attack?

"How bad?" The other end is silent. "Christ. How bad, Fin?"

"It was pretty bad, man. I tried to get her to go home, but with Kat gone and the new Chief riding us pretty hard, she's refusin'. She just stays shut up in her office."

Elliot goes quiet, processing the information as he paces the floor. Maybe if he just -

"Man, I know what you're thinking. I don't think she would be too happy to see you right now."

"No," Elliot agrees. "But Liv has put up with a lot of shit from me recently. Shouldered everything. I gotta at least try."

"Yo, it's your funeral. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Elliot disconnects the call and flags Bell down on her way out the door. "Sarge, I need to check on her."

Ayanna smiles a little. "So go check on her."

"The Albanians - " Elliot hesitates, shaking his head. "They'll be suspicious if I don't come back today."

He has no idea what's going on with Liv, but whatever it is, it's not going to be solved in a couple of hours.

"Then it sounds like you have a choice to make," Bell says calmly. "But you know whatever you decide, I'll back your play and we'll figure it out."

He nods tightly. "Thanks."

"And before you go, there's one thing we should clear up."

He frowns. "What is it?"

"I never told you that you couldn't speak to Captain Benson when you were under."

He wrinkles his forehead in confusion. "But you said - "

She interrupts him, cocking her head. "I said you could only speak to your loved ones."

Oh.

Oh.

And then with the swing of her hips, she walks away.

I wanted to explore the ramifications of Olivia being triggered by Elliot going undercover (as well as lying to her therapist) and allow room for Elliot to take care of her for once — assuming she lets him.

The next - and final chapter - should be up before Monday.

Come find me on Twitter OliviaJRoweee