I cried for madder music and stronger wine.

But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,

Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;

And I am desolate and sick of an old passion

Yea, hungry for lips of my desire:

I have been fathful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

Ernest Dowson

"He'll be fine. Detective Stabler just needs to get cleaned up, have a hot meal, sleep..."

Olivia's eyes went from the doctor to her partner. Elliot was slumped on the exam table and waves of stink practically radiated off of him. He'd been swatting the nurse's hand away like a fly, even when she was trying to stitch up the gash under his eye. The dirt was caked to his face, save for the spot they'd sterilized for the stitches. In her whole life, she couldn't remember seeing anyone as tired or filthy as Elliot was at that moment. The whiteness of the room made him look like a raincloud.

She didn't have much desire to be around him lately. It wasn't anything to pinpoint or put under a microscope. Wispy rumors floated back to her like Halloween ghosts. Elliot slept with her. So what? It's not like Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler were married or dating or...anything. Maybe it was just a tiny bit of betrayal that he'd turned to Dani. But where was she now that he was in need? Nowhere. And here was good old Olivia to take up the slack.

They wheeled him out to the car and helped her wedge him into the seat. Elliot was only able to take a few shaky steps before collapsing against the car with a wheeze. Olivia winced, wondering how she'd manage to get him up the stairs of his home.

"Hey, next time, go undercover in a boutique or something. Not at a rendering plant," she quipped, starting the car.

"You're funny," was all he could manage. A wave of compassion swept through Olivia. He was so tired and the mental exhausted. What he'd been through would make anyone catatonic. Four fights, a bruising fall into a dumpster, a car accident. He wore the remnants of blood, meat and garbage like a badge. Olivia rolled down the windows, even though a brisk autumn wind was blowing.

They stopped at the precinct to get his duffle bag. Until she could wash the outfit he had on (and this was wishful thinking), his gym clothes would have to work. Instead of his house, she drove on to her apartment. Elliot never said a word. He just stared out the window at the changing leaves.

Hoisting all 200 pounds of him into an elevator was easier than negotiating the stairs. They walked together, slowly, his head touching hers. One of his strong arms wrapped around her waist and Olivia could feel his fingertips burn into her side. It was unexpectedly dizzying. Maybe it was the smell.

"Elliot. First thing, clothes off. Second thing, shower," she ordered when they crossed her threshold. Elliot nodded slightly and shuffled off toward the bathroom, carrying his bag by one strap. When the sound of the shower came full blast, Olivia went to her pantry to figure out what to feed the poor guy. It was nearly barren, thanks to her aversion to grocery shopping. But thank goodness for that one can of soup she never got around to eating. She also salvaged a piece of wheat bread for toast and a clean mug for some herbal tea. It would all have to do.

The shower had been on for a very long time. There wasn't the usual thumping and splashing that accompanies a shower, either. So, cutting the burner off, she snuck down the hall and tentatively knocked on the door.

"El, you okay in there?"

No answer. Just the droning sound of water hitting plastic. Thinking she might regret this (or enjoy it), Olivia opened the door slowly, enveloping herself in a billowing cloud of steam. He was behind the shower curtain. Steeling herself up for the big revelation, she peeked behind the curtain to see Elliot, fully clothed, dozing under the warm stream of water. When she touched his arm, he wheeled around slowly, eyes still closed.

"Do you need some help?" she asked, hearing her own voice jump an octave. Elliot didn't nod, but he did turn back toward the showerhead. With a sigh, Olivia cut the water off and got him too sit on the edge of the tub. "Maybe a bath would be a better idea now," she said, plugging the drain and dumping half a bottle of mint Philosophy soap into the tub.

It took every ounce of her strength to heave his shirt off. The socks were easy, but his jeans were so soaked they clung to his legs. She fumbled with the fly of his jeans, praying he was wearing boxers or something underneath. Of course, he'd picked that day to go commando, something he was known for doing occasionally.

Olivia was so surprised by what flopped out she fell backwards. Elliot looked up quickly, then looked down. He retreated quickly into the bubble bath. "Sorry," he said, sinking back into the tub.

"No, I wasn't expecting that. My bad," she replied, noticing his cheeks were red and hers felt hot too. The whole thing seemed to wake Elliot up a little. "Do you need some help..."

"Nope. I'm fine," he said, and she practically ran out the door. While it hadn't been an unpleasant sight (wow!) she was totally unprepared for it. Olivia turned her attention back to the soup, tea and toast.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Elliot looked completely different. He was clean and red from the hot water. The muscle shirt and shorts weren't enought to block the chill of October, so she wrapped him in an extra blanket and sat him on the old recliner.

He hunkered over the TV tray and ate ravenously. In ten minutes, the bowl of soup and slice of toast were gone. Elliot sank back into the chair and sipped the tea. Olivia sat on the couch and flipped through the channels, sipping on a cup of instant coffee. Neither said anything, but it was comfortable silence, punctuated by the sounds of applause from a studio audience.

"What time is it?" Elliot asked suddenly, causing her to jump slightly.

"Half-past nine. You should probably go to bed," she yawned.

"Where's that inflatable bed you have?" he said, looking around.

"No, you'll sleep in my bed. I don't think your back could handle the couch or the inflatable. I'll sleep out here. No biggie. And no argument."

He didn't argue. Instead, Elliot got up slowly and shuffled out of the living room. OIivia followed, thinking he might need some help.

Instead, he wandered into the darkened room and immediately fell into the pillows. She thought he was already asleep, but as she was walking out, he called her name softly.

Olivia hesistated, but made her way back to the bed. Elliot lightly pulled her down on the mattress and gave her a full body hug, burying his face in her hair. "Thank you," he said softly. Olivia rested her head on his chest, marvelling at the warmth from his body and calmed by the sound of his steadily beating heart. "And I'm sorry," he whispered.

Elliot's lips settled on her forehead, on her nose and on her lips. It wasn't a passionate kiss but it also wasn't a peck between friends. He smiled and pulled her closer, running his fingers over the small swell of her stomach. Olivia kissed his neck and shoulder and was thinking about other things when she realized Elliot was fast asleep.

"Your welcome," she whispered, before laying her head against his chest and falling off into her own dream world.