The Moon and New York City

"Are you ever going to talk to her?"

Casey's brow wrinkled as Elliot took another sip. This was the reason he didn't socialize around the 1-6 much anymore; too many interrogations. Munch and Fin looked down the bar expectantly, waiting to hear what he'd say.

"I do talk to her. We spoke on the phone last week," Elliot said, hoping to drop the subject. "She's fine."

"Yeah, we know that," Casey smiled. The top button on her blouse had come undone. Her eyes took on a smoky quality when she was drunk, something many men would find attractive. Elliot didn't think it made her more of anything. She was just Casey, like a little sister to Olivia, a wet dream for Munch and the woman who reminded Cragen so much of his long dead wife. "We've all talked to Olivia."

"Yeah. She and Fin are going shopping Monday," Munch snorted. Fin just rolled his eyes.

"You know...," Casey said, stumbling to her feet. "You know you love her. Goddamn you. Treating her like that."

Fin was trying to shove Casey's arms into her coat quickly, seeing the potential for a nasty war of words. "I'll get you a cab, Casey. Come on, let's go, babe," he said, trying to placate her. Casey's face was fire engine red.

"Goddamn you. She was right. You're nothing but a goddamn stubborn son of a bitch," Casey said loudly as Fin practically pushed her out the door. Elliot just sighed and stared into his drink. Munch moved to the next stool.

"Don't say a word," Elliot said. Munch shrugged and ran his finger across the wet circles the glasses and bottles left on the bar. "I don't know that I love her."

"I think you do," said Munch. "I think you love her more than you'd ever admit to. Since you seem to have no human emotions..."

"Shut up."

"Hear me out. You pushed her away when Kathy left. She needed you sometimes and you just left her waiting. I never saw her do that to you. Elliot, you both need each other."

Elliot pushed back from the bar. "Why should I take advice from a guy that's been divorced four times?"

"Because I don't want to see Olivia get hurt again. If you do hurt her, I will personally make your life hell," Munch said, crushing a pretzel under his fist. Elliot stared at the pretzel and then at Munch.

"Well, I'd better get going. No rest for the wicked, right?" Munch laughed hollowly, throwing down a ten dollar bill. "Think about what I said. Old guy to young guy, you know?"

Elliot just lamely shook his head and stared back down at the bar. The doodles Munch had been making the condensation were fading, but he could make out the word "Mulder".

"Who's Mulder?" he shouted Munch's retreating back. There was no answer given. The jukebox switched, leaving Elliot suddenly feeling very alone and listening to "Dead Flowers" by the Rolling Stones. His head hurt.

XXXXXX

The night air hit him like a stiff gin and tonic. Moonlight filtered down between the buildings giving the city a ghostly, gray quality. There were pink neon signs throwing the horizon into dusk.

Elliot could get drunk on the city itself. It was home, it would always be home. Even during the blackouts, the attacks, the heatwaves...he could always count on the city to welcome him with open arms. The horrible underbelly of the city bothered him. That undercurrent of loss, desolation and loneliness. He worked hard to protect people from it.

And Olivia was the city. She made up everything he loved and hated about the place. In his thoughts late at night, he's dream of having a small house in the country. Somewhere quiet, where the world wouldn't come knocking. Sometimes Olivia would be there, her hair long (hey, it was his dream) and her smile wide, leaning in a doorway looking perfectly content.

Elliot stopped. He was across the street from her apartment. There was a light on. Feeling a little faint (and maybe scared), he sat on a stoop and just looked up at that window. He then stared at the full moon and prayed for guidance. The moon witnesses everything the sun forgets. He'd heard that somewhere, maybe from Munch. It had been there for his first kiss so many years ago at Coney Island. The air had smelled like french fries and "California Soul" was playing on a boardwalk PA. Her name was Bridget.

Sirens blasted by.

"I'm broken," he said to no one.

Yes, he loved her. It had come screaming from every pore when he was in Huang's office that terrible afternoon. They all knew. Casey's burst of anger was unexpected but not surprising. Even Kathy knew. It had been obvious.

Now there was blood of a nine year old on his hands. On their hands. All because Elliot cared too much about her. After all the time Kathy accused him of not caring about anything but his job, he'd finally proved her wrong. Loving Olivia went against ever fiber of his being. The job would suffer, what would the kids think? When and if his love was laid out on the table, what would happen next?

Elliot thought Olivia loved him. It was in her eyes. To think of how hurt and haunted they were that day in the warehouse nearly tore him in half. He wanted to tell her not to lose sleep if he died. Have babies, fall in love, give her life to God or something but just get away from that dark side. She deserved better. Olivia didn't deserve Elliot Stabler, a broken man who was in the process of losing everything in life.

He was crying. Tears leaked through his fingertips like blood from an open wound. Part of him was screaming to go up and talk to her. The other part was frightened, so scared of what she'd say.

"Elliot?"

The familiar voice startled him. He looked up, wiping the tears from his eyes. It was Olivia, sad eyed and upset. She'd never seen him cry like this. It had been a few weeks since they'd seen each other, and he was startled by her appearance. Olivia had lost some weight and looked a little bony and jaundiced in the yellow moonlight.

Their sleeves brushed as she sat down. Her hand went to his back and rubbed in small, hesitant circles. "Is everything alright? The kids are okay?" she asked in a choked voice. Elliot just shook his head and covered his eyes again.

He didn't look at her for another couple of minutes. When he did wipe the tears out his eyes, Elliot found her staring at the full moon. She looked pale and sick.

"Liv, are you okay?" he asked.

"I haven't slept much. I was actually on my way to the store for some sleeping pills."

"Yeah."

Another ambulance blasted by, making both of them wince. "I shouldn't be keeping you up, then," Elliot said suddenly, standing up.

"No, I was up anyways. Why don't you come up and sit with me for awhile?"

He followed her across the street and up the stairs. Her apartment was strewn with clothes, like his. the sink was bursting with dirty dishes and the TV was on.

They just sat on the couch, side by side, and stared into space. Elliot reached over to brush a few strands of hair that had fallen into her eyes. Before he could pull his hand away, she grabbed his wrist.

"Elliot, these few weeks have made me realize something," she said quietly. "I know now that I still wouldn't have pulled that trigger. Maybe we shouldn't be partners..."

He looked in her eyes.

"...but we should be friends. I don't want you not to be in my life."

Elliot pulled her into his arms.

"You are my life, Olivia," he said into her ear. "If I have to choose, it's you."

Her breath caught.

Olivia pulled away momentarily and a shadow crossed her face. It was raw fear, the same fear you always get when something new happens and you don't know if the outcome will be wonderful or if it will kill you in the end.

Elliot pulled her down on top of him and wrapped his arms around her tightly. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," he chanted, rocking the two of them back and forth.

She rested her head on his chest. He turned the television off and they just laid in the light filtering through the blinds. Olivia fell asleep that way, but Elliot watched her long into the night, under the moon that kept its patient watch from the heavens.