A/N: Okay. This story doesn't lead up to sex. But it's a way something happened. Olivia realizes something important that changes her life, for both good AND bad. This is very obviously set post-"Fault".

A Random Moment of Significant Importance

It didn't hit her until that night. Olivia made it through three "Full House" reruns and the evening news without moving off the couch. Her brain had kicked into an autopilot mode, leaving her emotionless and unresponsive to the uproarious laugh tracks.

The whole situation hit her like a freight train as she was leaning over the bathroom sink. Her eyes were sunken in dark bags, her skin was pale and clammy. Nothing seemed real until she touched the stab wound on her neck. Then she just crumpled like a rag doll, beating her fists on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, saying his name over and over. Goddammit, he loved her. She knew this now, but it was no comfort. Elliot's words played over and over in her head:

"The only things I have left in this world are the job and you, and I don't want to risk losing both of them."

If he had died, if the shot would have been possible, would she have made it? Or would she have stepped in front of the bullet that was meant for her?

He said, in effect, that he loved her. There was no way she could love him back if he was going to put the job first.

It would be a relief to feel the bullet in her temple and just float off into the clear, blue sky. Instead, Olivia was knotted up on a bath mat and crying like her heart would break. They couldn't be partners anymore. She couldn't watch him die. All the ugly nightmares she had about holding him as the blood pooled around them - there was always a fantastic amount of blood, like a sea - and Elliot dying without an I love you or a fuck you. His strong body would go weak and he'd just disappear, leaving her old and alone.

Olivia knew she had to get to bed. Cragen had given her the next day off. She'd actually asked for it, because she couldn't bear to see Elliot's reaction when he heard the news. It was a struggle to crawl to the bed, but somehow she managed with a policewoman's grit and determination. Somewhere, Elliot was probably crying (or drinking), maybe breaking windows or just staring at the TV as she had earlier that evening.

Olivia wanted to be with him. But she couldn't. Not tonight. Her heart was broken.

As the sobs began to subside, she closed her eyes, trying to will sleep to come but dreading who would be on the other end of the phone line tomorrow. She prayed she wouldn't dream of death or blood. The feel of a too-heavy pistol and the smell of moldy cardboard boxes...the tears in his eyes...everything they weren't saying...

Instead, she dreamed of the day she knew things were changing.

April 2002

The rented Buick stank of vomit and Lysol. The witness interview in Bath had gone OK, but Elliot was sweating bullets in the cool upstate air. A stomach virus had been going around the 1-6, with Elliot falling as its latest victim. By the time they were five miles into their trip back, he had thrown up three times and ruined two sets of clothes. Olivia was the unhappy recipient of one of those cookie-tossing episodes and was now wearing a sweatshirt he'd worn on the way up. Kathy wasn't going to love the aftermath...their soiled clothes were now in a black garbage bag stinking up the trunk.

"Do we have any water?" Elliot moaned. They were out, so Olivia gave him the rest of her last bottle.

"You need Gatorade," she said, reaching over to feel his forehead. He scowled at her touch and turned to look out the window. "That'll help restore all the electrolytes you lost."

He didn't say anything. Instead, he leaned his forehead on the cool window and watched the scenery whip by. He looked so pitiful it was almost comical.

Elmira was the next town of size, so Olivia took the first exit ramp and prayed there'd be a grocery store somewhere. Her intention was to buy some Gatorade, an air freshner and some Dramamine so she could drive in peace and Elliot could get some much-needed sleep. She didn't have much of an appetite.

A small IGA was about 100 feet off the highway. She pulled in and Elliot didn't even have the strength to lift his head from the window. "Don't take long," he cautioned as she opened the door.

Olivia was about halfway to the store when she turned to look back at the car. He'd reclined the seat and all she could see were his feet on the dashboard. The shirt she'd borrowed carried the scent of his cologne. Sometimes, when he'd stop by, her apartment would smell like him for hours afterward. She liked it. On September 11, they hugged for the first time...maybe a little longer than a married man and a single woman should. It just felt so safe in his arms as the endless tragedy erupted all around them.

A car honked and startled her out of the daydream.

In the store, shoppers moved up and down the cramped aisles like zombies. Trying to keep her promise to Elliot, Olivia practically sprinted from section to section. Of course, during the busy time of day, only one checker was on duty. She sighed and picked up a magazine in hopes the line would thin out.

A hand fell on her shoulder. She thought it was Elliot, but when Olivia turned around, she was staring into the eyes of a dark haired woman carrying a six-pack of Budweiser. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you...but it looks like our friends know each other," the woman said, giving her a shaky smile. Olivia squinted beyond the front counters into the parking lot to see Elliot propped up against the car like a rag doll, talking to a guy with roughly chiseled features.

"I'm Olivia," she said, extending a hand.

"I'm Monica," the woman said, giving Olivia the standard-issue government handshake...pump, pump, drop. "Let me guess. You guys are NYPD."

Olivia nodded mutely.

"That was John's old job before he signed up with the FBI," Monica continued.

"Elliot's been on the force longer than I have. He doesn't talk much about the people he worked with."

Monica was wearing a t-shirt. Bruises ran up and down her pale arms and a deep abrasion marked her temple. Olivia noticed the younger woman seemed shaky and skinny. "Are you doing okay?" Olivia asked.

"I had a car accident a few weeks ago and we've been all over the state tracking down a case that didn't turn out to be much at all. John and I are just tired out. They called about an hour ago and now we're going to Los Angeles."

They were walking and talking now. Olivia found the Dramamine improbably in the greeting card section. She also got a better look at Monica's partner. He was an intense looking guy, even more so than Elliot.

"Your partner's a good looking guy," said Monica.

"He's married," Olivia said quickly.

"I imagined. A good man is hard to find. Or so they say."

Monica snagged a bag of Cheetos. "What do you two do for the FBI?" Olivia ventured.

"It's hard to tell people and have them understand. Most people think it's hogwash."

Olivia smiled at her. She'd trade sex crimes for hogwash sometimes. They reached the checkout line and Monica gazed out the window at John. Her features, which seemed angular and harsh under the flourescent light, seemed to relax as she watched him talk with Elliot. Something dawned on Olivia. It was a look of geniune love she was seeing, the kind of love that changes people and alters their perception of the universe. It was something she'd really never seen before in its purest form.

"He's all I have in the world," Monica said, more to herself than anyone else. Olivia watched Elliot and thought of her own feelings. He changed her, he was the only person she looked forward to seeing, when he hurt, she hurt. Elliot was married to Kathy but in Olivia's heart, somewhere deep down, something felt like it was about to erupt when they were together.

"Are you two..."

"No," said Monica quickly. "I don't think he knows. But I know."

There was something so sad about that. The dark circles under Monica's eyes belied her strong sense of self. This was a weary woman.

They walked into the bright sunshine together. Elliot gave Olivia a half-hearted wave, but John smiled wide at Monica. Oh, God, he loves her too. Why can't they tell each other?

"I see you two met already," John said. His eyes twinkled. "Elliot, this is my partner, Monica Reyes."

Olivia shook John's hand and looked expectantly at Elliot. "We were in training together. This guy could drink more than anyone I've ever seen," Elliot said in thin, sickly voice.

"Hey, how's John Munch? That bastard's a good friend of one of our co-workers," John laughed.

"Small world, huh? John, we've got a plane to catch in DC tomorrow. We need to get going," Monica said, eyeing Elliot out of the corner of her eye.

John and Elliot shook hands and exchanged cards. Olivia went around to get one of her cards for Monica. But as she was handing it to her, their eyes locked. It was as if Olivia could see herself in Monica's face, maybe years down the road. She saw the quiet despair, the constant struggle to keep her head above water. The feelings hit her like a bucket of cold water, making her gasp and shiver in the warm air.

That'll be you. You'll be tired out, burnt out..

Elliot gladly accepted a bottle of Gatorade. Olivia pretended to fiddle with the cap on her soda, but all the while she was watching Monica and John. They seemed so much older, yet they weren't. The two were talking quietly to each other. John smoothed a dark strand of hair from Monica's pale forehead.

And Olivia realized something both frightening and wonderful. She was falling in love with Elliot. It was a hard fall. But they had all the time in the world that year. Olivia could deal with him being married for now. She'd dealt relatively successfully with all the darker turns in her life. It was just another thing to put on the backburner.

"Hey, thanks for taking care of me. I'm sorry I puked all over you back there," Elliot said, touching her elbow softly.

Olivia could hear her own heart beat.

She started the car and headed back towards New York.