Elliot sat at the bar, tapping his foot anxiously against the leg of his stool. He'd made a restaurant reservation but picked a place with a bar, knowing it was more their speed. He knew both of them would rather sit at the bar in a dive rather than a stuffy five-star with a tasting menu.

Despite being a solid 39 minutes early, he kept glancing at the door, expecting her to walk in. As if he was worried she wouldn't. Almost daring her not to.

They had hung so delicately in the balance for so long, with such clear lines drawn in the sand that this new territory was almost frighteningly unlimited.

Sure, the lines had blurred occasionally, mostly late at night while he lie deep asleep next to his wife, but they'd never been crossed with such reckless abandon as he feared they were about to be.

There weren't guidelines for a set of ex-partners turned... friends? Acquaintances? Strangers, tethered by wispy memories and thin arguments for why they no longer knew each other?

As much as he wanted everything to go back to how it was, he knew that wasn't a possibility. They'd crossed a line on Tuesday and they had no choice but to make themselves at home in this undiscovered country, whatever that looked like.

"Would you look at what the tide washed in," he heard a familiar voice say behind him. He turned around, tensing when he saw who it was. This couldn't be good.

"Detective Tutuola."

"Sergeant Tutuola, actually," Fin said, cracking a smile and holding out a hand. "Long time no see, Stabler."

Elliot laughed uncomfortably, nodding as he shook Fin's hand.

"What's it been, a decade?" Fin asked.

"About that, yeah," Elliot said casually, running a hand over the back of his neck. His eyes kept flicking toward the door, wondering what the odds were of Fin happening to show up at the same time and place he was meeting Olivia.

"Damn," Fin said, shaking his head. "That's a long time. A lot can change in a decade."

Elliot nodded again. The odds were slim, it seemed.

"Especially when you don't call, or check-in."

Slim to none.

"Fin," Elliot started, feeling the ambush coming on. He wasn't really interested in starting this fight here, now, when he was just easing toward redemption with Olivia.

Fin stopped him.

"Save it, I'm not who you need to apologize to," he said. "But you need to know what you're getting into."

Elliot frowned.

"She's happy," Fin said. Elliot didn't have to ask who he was talking about. "She's got a life now, and a kid. I'm not saying she totally moved on, but it took her a long time to get where she is and she doesn't need you messing that up."

A kid. Olivia has a kid. A kid with who?

It took him a minute to bounce back. He uncrossed his arms, leaning back against the bar.

"I didn't mean for it to happen the way it did," he said after a minute. Fin raised his eyebrows. "You know how so much time has passed that you... you can't reach out? Days turn into months, turn into years, and... I just kept waiting for the right moment."

It wasn't that simple, but he didn't know how to explain it to Fin any better. The two hadn't exactly gotten along all those years ago, but he knew Fin had come to talk to him out of love for Olivia, and for that alone, he was willing to lay down his shield and take whatever beating Fin was there to deliver.

It took a moment but the sergeant seemed to accept his reasoning. At the very least, he didn't pose an argument, which Elliot took as a peace offering.

"She's lucky she had you to watch her back," Elliot said, a few minutes later.

"Someone had to after you left," Fin retorted. "At least I watch her back and not her backside."

The two men smirked. After a moment Fin stood up, shaking Elliot's hand, and bade him goodnight. As Fin walked out the back, Elliot turned around, back to watching the front door.

*** Olivia ***

Olivia stood in front of the mirror, nervously smoothing the front of her dress. It had been a while since she'd had the opportunity to dress up, or even been out anywhere that wasn't a work function.

Turning around she looked over her shoulder at the back of the dress. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and smiled. Despite her apprehension, she couldn't help the thrill running through her.

She hadn't made the decision she told herself she would. The prospect of going on a date with Elliot, of entering into some forbidden territory when she knew so much better was too tantalizing.

It was like she wanted to drink him in, to let herself be enveloped in him one time, one real-time without the rules and the strings and all of the lines. To have him the way she wanted him before she broke them like she knew she should.

"Mommy! The door!"

Noah ran into the room as Olivia turned around and stopped short at the foot of her bed.

"Woah," he said quietly. "You look...different."

"Is different good?" She asked. Noah nodded then ran out of the room toward the door. Olivia slipped her boots on and followed him into the living room. The little boy was sitting on the floor, staring thoughtfully at the coatrack next to the door.

"You ok?" Olivia asked.

"Is he a... hottie with a body?" Noah asked slowly.

Olivia stared at him.

"Excuse me? Where did you hear that?" She asked.

"Nora Bergman's older sister," he answered matter of factly, pulling his shoes out of his cubby by the door. "She dresses like that when she goes out to meet hottie with a bodies."

Olivia looked down at her dress. From the front, it was modest, square-necked, and long-sleeved though maybe a little short. She glanced at Noah, his eyes now focused on her snakeskin boots.

"You think they're too much?" She asked Noah. He squinted at the boots, then rested his chin on his fist, surveying his mom. Olivia let out a laugh.

"No, I like the boots," he said finally, turning to finish putting his jacket on. "I think Nora Bergman's older sister would like them too!"

"Alright well we're gonna have a talk about all the other things Nora Bergman's older sister tells you when you get home," Olivia said through a smile. "But right now you gotta scoot or you're going to be late for your sleepover. Move!"

Noah jumped up and pulled open the door, smiling as Lucy stepped in.

"Wow," she said as she glanced up at Olivia. "Liv you look amazing."

Olivia smiled, smoothing the front of her dress again, wondering if she'd overdone it.

"Well I'm glad my nanny and Nora Bergman's older sister approve," she said, smirking. Lucy looked at her questioningly but before she could ask Noah started rambling about the dog he saw at the park that afternoon.

As Noah slipped on his coat she thanked Lucy and crouched down to Noah's level.

"I'll see you tomorrow, lovie," she said, giving him a hug. "Be good. Lucy's going to drop you off but mommy will pick you up in the morning and we can go get bagels, how's that sound?"

Noah nodded, hugged her back, and then ran out the door. Lucy watched him run to the end of the hall and wait patiently outside the elevator before turning back to Olivia.

"Nora Bergman's older sister is a 21-year-old bartender," she said smirking. "But you still look fantastic!"

"Great," Olivia laughed. "Thank you."

She could hear Lucy and Noah giggling down the hall and checked her watch. There was time for a glass of wine before she left. For the past few months she'd been cutting back, especially when Noah was around, and she'd found she no longer craved the warm relaxation that she used to.

Tonight, however, was different. Tonight she needed the dent in her armor.

*** elliot ***

7:39. She was 9 minutes late. She wasn't coming. She'd stood him up. He'd said too much. He should leave. He needed to leave.

"Hey," he heard her say. "Sorry, I couldn't get a cab it was like a ghost town on my street."

He turned around, his heart thumping in his chest.

"Well, you know what they say," he said with a smile. "You can never find a police officer or a cab when you need one."

A smile spread across her face and she laughed, slipping her arms out of her coat and tossing it over the back of the barstool.

As she turned around, his heart skipped a beat. The dress she was wearing had no back. It was high necked and long-sleeved, but cut off just behind her shoulders, leaving her entire back exposed.

"Wow," he said. He hadn't meant to, it had just come out, but he realized when she smirked and raised her eyebrow that that was probably her intention.

"I don't get the chance to dress up often," she said, tossing her wavy hair over her shoulder and sliding onto the barstool next to him.

Habit told him he should look away, that he should keep his eyes on the floor and his mind out of the gutter. The way she crossed her legs toward him and leaned in when she spoke told him otherwise.

Taking a sip of his whiskey he leaned back in his stool and let himself relax. They both knew that over the years he'd stolen glances at her, admired her from afar. But he'd never had the chance to drink her in, to see all of her without the voice in the back of his head telling him to think about his wife.

"How's your kid?" He asked as he flagged down the bartender.

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to respond but the bartender cut her off, asking what he could get for her.

"A glass of the Nero D'Avila," she said, still looking shocked. Turning back to Elliot she shot him a questioning look.

"On the phone the other day, you said 'Noah's fine," he answered with a shrug, not mentioning Fin's visit. "You're not really a dog person."

As the bartender set down her wine she smiled, bigger than he'd ever seen her smile, pulling out her phone.

"Noah is perfect," she said, flicking through an endless stream of photos featuring a little blue-eyed kid with a mop of curly hair. "He's so smart and so kind, and he just started ballet and he's got an opinion about everything..." she trailed off, smiling down at a photo of Noah sleeping on the sofa on New Years, still wearing his sparkly top hat and clutching a silver popper.

"He sounds just like his mom," Elliot said. Olivia slid her phone to the side and took a sip of her wine.

"I hope so," she said. After a moment she turned to him. "I adopted him when he was almost year old," she said, answering his unasked questions. "We found him in a dresser drawer during a raid. His mother was in bad shape and his father..."

Waiting as she took another sip of his wine, he realized what she was about to say as she said it.

"His father and mine would have gotten along just fine."

Elliot nodded, the weight of understanding pressing down on him. She'd taken in a kid just like herself, by herself. If anyone could do it she could. It made the most sense, somehow, out of everything he'd heard about her. More sense than her having a kid with Tucker, or any of the other faceless men he'd imagined her meeting over the years.

"You're amazing, Liv," he said softly. A rosy flush crept up her cheeks as she turned to him. Her lips curved in a smile but her eyes were unreadable, looking deeper into him than he understood.

*** olivia ***

"Thanks," she said. This soft side of him was foreign to her. She licked her lips and took another sip of wine. "What about you, how are your kids?"

"Old," he said with a smile, reaching for his own phone. "And Maureen's got her own now." He swiped open his phone to reveal his background, a tiny blonde baby in a pink onesie, her fingers curled in a tiny rock on hand sign.

"Oh my god, you're a grandpa," she said, suppressing a laugh. "I can't believe it."

She took his phone, scrolling through pictures of the tiny pink baby, before coming across photos of a 14-year-old boy playing soccer, two twenty-somethings posing on the deck of a yacht, and two blonde women posing on a mountaintop.

"Kathleen is living in Denver, working at a psycho-pharma-something retreat, she got her master's in abnormal psychology a few years ago," he said pointing at the woman on the left. "The twins are on Instagram, traveling constantly. I don't get it but they look like they're having fun and they got me a stereo system for Christmas so I know they're doing ok."

He flicked through a dozen or so highly edited photos of Lizzie and Dickie holding drinks on boats and posing under waterfalls.

"Eli's living in Connecticut with Kathy's sister now, he got accepted to this Yale youth soccer league and he's going to high school up there," he said, showing her photos of what looked like a decades younger Elliot, running down a soccer field and posing in a goalies net.

Olivia paid attention to the photos but barely took her eyes off of Elliot. Watching him talk about his kids and seeing his face light up at his granddaughter was the most overwhelming feeling she never expected.

Maybe, she thought, this could be enough. Looking at him. Even if she never spoke a word, even if they never spoke again, she could spend the rest of her life looking at him. He was her favorite film, her favorite novel, her favorite work of art. She could watch him, read him and study him until she died and die an impossibly happy woman.

She smiled, taking a deep breath before reaching out and resting her hand on his knee.

"They look great Elliot," she said. "You did a good job with them, despite everything. I never realized how hard parenting was."

Elliot laughed, turning slightly to face her but not, she noticed, enough to shift her hand.

"Hey now, you've got it pretty easy," he smiled. "I had 4 more than you."

Remembering his afternoon tantrum, Olivia cringed. She loved him more than life itself but she couldn't imagine 4 more of Noah.

"True," she smiled. Silence settled and she could feel him waiting to turn the conversation away from their kids. She didn't know if she was ready to talk about them just yet.

There was another topic, one Fin made her promise not to mention, one she'd found out about on her way to the bar. Phoebe had told him the real reason Elliot had come back, and Fin had promised her he wouldn't tell Olivia. Once Fin found out she was meeting Elliot again, however, he caved and let it slip that Elliot was the new captain of the NYPDs organized crime unit.

Stunned didn't quite cover it; it meant he'd been working his way up the NYPD ranks without telling her, working so close to her she could almost touch him, for years without telling her.

Mentioning it would delay having to talk about them, and despite the anticipation, the desire that drove her to dress like a 21 year old bartender, she knew she wouldn't be able to move past it.

A moment passed and she turned back to him. "So how's Organized Crime treating you?"

*** elliot ***

Elliot raised his eyebrows. There weren't many in the NYPD who knew he was captaining the new unit, which was kind of the point; fighting gangsters wasn't easy if everyone knew you were fighting them.

"How'd you find out?"

Her eyes twinkled and she gave a little shrug.

"Being captain has its perks," she said vaguely. He didn't buy it.

"Bullshit, who told you?"

"Why?" She retorted. His stomach clenched as she pulled her hand off his knee and crossed her arms. "You didn't want anyone tell me you'd been working for NYPD for the past 8 years?"

So she'd done her homework. It wasn't like he hadn't expected her to, he just didn't realize how far her reach extended. He had been banking on SVU's rocky history with VICE to keep his cover. Which meant that that history must not be so rocky anymore...

"Phoebe," he said, realization dawning on him. "Phoebe Baker."

Olivia said nothing.

"You said you hadn't properly congratulated Fin and Phoebe," he continued. Olivia narrowed her eyes. "VICE sent me a couple of UC's a few weeks ago, she must have been in the loop."

"Well at least your detective skills are still sharp," she said, waving the bartender down for a refill.

"I didn't keep it from you on purpose," he said. He faltered. There weren't words, really. How did you put words to a feeling you regretted so deeply you wished you couldn't feel it anymore? "It just got to a point... it had been so long I kept waiting for the right moment, and then..."

As he expected, the words had failed him. Olivia was quiet too.

"You were the first person I wanted to call," he said quietly. She looked up at him. "I just didn't know how to do it."

Moments became minutes as he waited for her to respond. After what felt like an eternity he saw the fine lines between her brows begun to soften.

"I guess sometimes you don't realize you had the perfect moment until it's already gone," Olivia sighed finally. "I can't say I don't get it."

Before he could stop himself he stood up and pulled her a hug. She tensed in his arms at first, but after a moment she slid off her barstool and he felt her wrap her arms around his waist.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair. "I should have done things differently."

He felt her nod, felt her hands move up his back and grip him tighter, and relaxed, knowing she would have pushed him away if he hadn't earned her forgiveness.

For a moment neither of them moved, neither of them wanting to break the contact they'd silently craved for a decade, maybe more. Finally, he felt Olivia start to disentangle herself from him and stepped back to let her.

For a moment Elliot saw something in her eyes, a sort of flicker. Wildly he wondered if she was going to acknowledge his confession, the one she'd fumbled when he'd thrown it at her, the one he'd hoped she'd thought about as much as he had.

Even more wildly he wondered if that flicker was something more if she was going to reveal the same thing, or at the very least a desire to explore the possibility.

*** olivia ***

This was where she always wanted to be. Wrapped securely in his arms. This feeling eclipsed everything, blacking out the scorching beams of anger she had been so determined to burn him with.

If she didn't pull away now she feared she never would. She had to untangle herself, find her own footing, gather the thoughts that were wandering into deep, dark places.

It occurred to her that she should say something. They'd covered the obvious topics, their jobs, their kids. Their kids. It sounded strange even in her head. A shared experience they'd never actually shared.

But she should, she had to say something. Selfishly wanted to tell him yes and see what happened. To see how long she could live in that glass reality before it shattered.

But, she knew better, she reminded herself. The decision she'd reached hung over her head like an anvil. He wasn't good for her, he wasn't what she needed. Anything between them was doomed, a backward step on the road paved with the tears she'd shed to get to where she was.

She loved him, she knew that, hell everyone knew that. She just didn't know if that was enough.

What she did know, however, was that this was new territory and that there wasn't anything preventing her from finally figuring out if the things she'd imagined all those years ago were true...

Letting her fingers linger on his biceps, she leaned back slightly and looked up at him.

"Our table should be ready soon," Elliot said. This was it, this was her moment. One night. One night to get everything she wanted and then she could finally let him go, completely, knowing everything there was to know.

He started to step back and turn toward the hostess stand, but she grabbed his arm. As he turned back, she met his eyes.

"I don't think I'm hungry for dinner," she said softly.

*** elliot ***

Every ounce of willpower he possessed was being funneled into not taking her right then and there on the bar.

When he imagined her response, he'd imagined it would be calculated, planned, measured, like everything about her. But this, this untamed abandon, this wanton display, this was beyond anything he could fathom.

And he was having a very hard time steadying himself. Her eyes burned into his a moment longer before he made the decision. Unable to tear his eyes from hers he'd dug his credit card out of his pocket and waved down the bartender, sliding his card down the polished bar.

"I'm gonna go grab a cab," Olivia said. She squeezed his arm before letting go. He watched her as she gathered her jacket and bag, waiting to wake up from the dream he had to be in. This couldn't be happening, there was no way.

She turned around as she reached the door and flashed him a smile before stepping out.

He decided he didn't care if it was a dream.

*** olivia ***

Stop thinking.

She kept having to tell herself she needed to stop thinking. Every other aspect of her life was so calculated, so well thought out. This was what she wanted, what she'd wanted for so long she couldn't remember life without this aching, longing feeling burning deep in her belly.

Tapping her location into her phone she called for a car and took a deep breath. The street wasn't crowded, despite it being a Saturday, but it was still early. There would be crowds of people vying for shelter from the cold in the tiny bars that dotted this part of town in no time.

Behind her, she heard the hum of the bar as the door opened and she turned, smiling as Elliot walked out.

He didn't say anything, but his eyes told her what he didn't. She opened her mouth to tell him a car was on its way but before she could get a word out his lips were on hers and his arms were pulling her tightly into him.

It took her a moment to respond, but her body acted almost of its own accord, reaching inside his jacket, around his broad chest, her body begging for proximity.

Don't overthink it.

*** elliot ***

Elliot knew it couldn't be a dream. She was so real and warm and in his arms, there was no way she wasn't here. His fingers tangled in her hair as he drew her closer into him. His stomach tightened as he felt her arms wrap around his torso, felt her nails graze his back.

Where was the car? As his lungs begged for air he tore himself away from her, leaning his forehead against hers. She leaned into him and he could swear he felt both of their heartbeats twitching against his chest.

"Where's the car," he said, his voice husky. She smirked, glancing at her phone.

"3 minutes away."

Glancing up and down the near-deserted street, devilish things flashed through his mind. Smirking, he wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her into the deserted doorway set back from the street.

*** olivia ***

Her back hit the wall and she felt his lips on hers again. It was surreal and thrilling. An intoxication unequivocal to any drug she could imagine, any alcohol she could buy.

It was a glittering, dizzy high, her head and her heart so blissfully disconnected from each other, from reality. The only connection she cared about was the one his lips were making with her neck, the one her body was humming with desire for.

All sense had left her body and she was consumed by him, drowning in him. Everything she knew, everything that kept her feet on the ground, had been replaced by Elliot.

A buzzing at her hip told her the car was here. The heady high abated as she pulled his lips back to hers.

"The car," she whispered. If he was listening he didn't show it, his knee still between her legs, his arms firmly holding her against the wall, one hand still in her hair, the other sneaking under the hem of her dress.

"El," she breathed. "The car is here."

Sighing, he dropped his head to her shoulder, nipped at her ear one more time, then grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the doorway.

***elliot ***

As they slid into the back of the black SUV, Elliot maintained his grip on her hand, clinging to the contact, determined not to let the momentum die for fear that one of them would come to their senses. A static hum hung in the air over them, echoing the hum of the tires on the road beneath them.

The ride to his apartment wasn't a long one, but it was like they were racing against the clock, against their better judgments, against all odds.

In the back of his mind, something his mother had once said started to surface. Relationships are like sound waves. He'd never understood it until now.

Some were high frequency, frantic and close together, while others were a deep, low hum, gently rolling through the air.

For his whole life, he rode the high-frequency ones, operating at an all-time high, simply sustaining as he tried to hit every note.

Olivia had been slow and low, the steady hum that had carried him past the frantic whine of his life, crossing over, occasionally, with high pitches, but always maintaining the constant tone that brought him back.

And now here he was, his sound wave, his steady rhythm humming beside him.

He couldn't mess this up.

*** olivia ***

She could hear the blood rushing in her ears as she tried to calm her fluttering heartbeat.

The car had started to slow and somewhere, miles outside of her consciousness, she heard Elliot tell the driver to pull over on the left. Before she knew it she was standing in an elevator, Elliot's lips on hers, his hands on her body, in her hair.

Her fingers tangled in his scarf, pushing his jacket off of his shoulders, pressing her body into his, feeling him lift her ever so slightly.

As the elevator dinged and the doors slid open they parted briefly. Elliot hadn't let go of her since they left the doorway, holding her hand, her arm, her neck. The places his fingers had been glowed with warmth and she felt more alive than she had in years.

For years she'd bottled the feelings that were threatening to spill over out of her, stamped out the fire that burned in her, reeled in the things she wanted to do. Now, here, her inhibitions had vanished and she intended to do everything she'd ever wanted.

The two stumbled through the door of Elliot's loft and in between the shedding of clothing she caught a glimpse of big windows, and twinkling lights on the river.

She felt the shoulder of her dress slide down and turned to see Elliot kissing a trail down her bare shoulder blade.

Glancing around the room she noticed a set of double French doors and knew it must be the bedroom. Turning, she reached out and grabbed Elliot by the belt buckle, pulling him toward the doors.