Thanks for returning to read chapter 6. I hope y'all will continue to read and review. The pace is gonna be a bit slow in this one. Let's jump right into it then.

The first step into the diner gave him immediate refuge from the cool Winter breeze outside. He shook the cold from his skin, and the tiny flakes that hadn't melted then floated from his shoulders, reaching the linoleum as tiny droplets. He scanned the dining area, which was remarkably lit by the natural sunlight coming in through the paneless window that ranged the top half of the exterior wall from the entrance to the end of the room. There were small parties of people, a handful of one to three guests, scattered around the diner, in booths, at tables, at the bar. Their masks were tucked under their chins or hanging on their arms. A server behind the bar wiped the bar clean, vigorously yet in smooth, swift motions, like she'd been doing this job for eons. Behind her the kitchen was separated by wall and swinging door, except for a narrow pass-through window.

When he scanned back over the room, his eyes found Odafin Tutuola in a back corner, positioned where he can see the whole dining area, the entrance, and the sidewalk traffic outside the window. Their eyes locked, and Elliot nodded his acknowledgement as he walked toward him. Fin was clad in casual, urban-esque clothes with a matured taste. He'd kept his black leather jacket on, and it reminded Elliot of when he was the one working at the 1-6 and Fin was the new face. When he reached the table they clasped hands in a firm, manly but affectionate-undertoned dap. "Good to see you, man," Fin said. Elliot returned the same greeting, removed his coat and folded it longways to rest on the back of his chair. Then he moved the chair to the side of the square table adjacent to the wall and sat down. He removed his black mask and pushed it into the pocket of his form-fitting pants.

"I already ordered," Fin said. "When the waitress gets back, have what you want and I got you." Elliot felt the warmth of familiarity from Fin, although they'd had their disagreements in the past, which he in time came to understand were fueled by his own self-righteousness and, dare he admit it, hypocrisy. To be welcomed back into the fold by one of the last two SVU alum who were there with him. "Oh," he said with a breathy, repressed chuckle escaping his throat. He was nervous, like the new kid at football tryouts. "That's not necessary." Fin insisted, saying, "Consider it your welcome back meal." His smile prompted a polite smile to flash Elliot's face as well. He leaned forward in his seat for a second to adjust his legs under the table, then he leaned his back against the chair again. "Uh, to be honest, I don't know if I can handle American portions. I spent some time in Italy."

"Well, prepare to get some meat on your bones," he said, glancing at the approaching server and signaling Elliot. "Nothing like American waste to assimilate you. And we got a lot of it."

"Yeah," he scoffed, remembrantly, "A regular wasteland."

She touched the pads of her fingers to the end of the table. She smiled gently but enough for the premature wrinkles around her eyes to indicate such. Her smile itself was hidden behind her blue face mask. The fabric of her clothes and skin smelled of tobacco. She was otherwise neatly groomed and dressed, and polite. Her voice glided; it was not rough as expected. She topped off Fin's coffee and grinned at him as he shoveled scrambled eggs into his mouth. Fin signaled to Elliot with a nod of his head. Naturally, she asked, "What'll you have, hon?" Elliot was struck by the gracefulness of her manner, like it wasn't just her job to care but that she genuinely wanted him fed. He sighed, pleasantly defeated, and scratched the stubble of his chin. "Umm I'll have the... I'll just have an egg, sunny side, and a coffee." She mmhm-ed in a girl-like pitch and floated away from the table. He was reminded of something - or someone from some place in time. He couldn't put a finger on it. He dismissed it, though. Being back in Manhattan, everything reminded him of the past.

"I see the portions ain't the only thing changed you, huh?" Fin joked, pulling at his own jacket.

"Oh, yeah. Ha. When in Rome," Elliot replied. "Dress the part."

"Yeah," Fin said to keep the air filled. "So, I wanted to talk to you real quick about just a couple things."

"Of course."

"A lot of stuff has gone down since you left- with the squad, with the force, and with Olivia."

"With Olivia- what kind of stuff."

"I'll just tell you this much, the most important part: she has a son now."

"A son," Elliot nodded, his lips pulling cautiously into a grin and a glint in his eyes. "Good for her."

"Yeah. And she's been in a couple serious relationships, too."

"Hmm." Elliot shifted in his seat, preparing for more unrelenting positive news.

"And soon she's gonna be awarded at by the NYPD for her work. She's accomplished a lot. Grown a lot."

"I knew she would," he said, pained but proud.

"'Women in NYPD.'"

"She's earned it, I'm sure."

"In blood."

The server returned with the sunny side egg and a mug of steaming coffee. Elliot thanked her. Her round brown eyes squinted "you're welcome," and she disappeared again. His eyes lingered where her form was once before him. Fin caught that, a faraway look. "I was thinking," he cut through he silence, bringing Elliot back, "This guy who dumped the body- what Kat suggested makes sense. He could be another victim, in a way. You remember how these things go."

"Yeah," he cleared his throat, "Never black and white. Back to the world of gray."

"Exactly. The way he was fidgeting, looking over his shoulder. Real nervous. We need to be considering all possibilities. If he's more of a victim than the perp he appears to be, then we need to cast our net wider."

"I see."

"I'm sure OC has resources that reach farther than ours. Internationally."

Elliot scratched his chin and cleared his throat. Fin's thought process called for Elliot to switch gears. His wheels began to spin at a matching pace. "Yeah," he said. "I'll get in touch with my commanding officer. That wide net- consider it a fine-toothed comb." He began to pick at his egg with a fork in one hand and add sugar to his coffee with the other hand. Fin was generous with the details of his own life. Elliot took two bites of his egg and added creamer from the little plastic cups to his coffee. "So, you're a grandpa, huh," he teased. He consumed a gulp of his coffee, licking any residue from his upper lip when the mug separated from his mouth.

"Yeah, man," Fin smirked, showing Elliot a picture of Ken and Alejandro's son Jaden at his fourth birthday party.

"He's a beautiful boy. I'm happy for you," Elliot said, smiling nostalgically. "You wish they could stay that size forever."

"Not me," Fin scoffed. "Adore the kid. Can't wait til he can prepare his own meals. Even with Phoebe around - my fiancé - it's hard to get a good solid, sitting meal in sometimes."

"I didn't know," Elliot started, his face opening up. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," Fin replied, tucking his phone away with pride still beaming from his face. His phone pinged halfway into his pocket, and he looked at it. He had to go, he said. He pulled his wallet from the inside of his jacket and laid a couple bills on the table. "Like I said- first one's on me." He walked intently away and out the diner. A loneliness began to sink within Elliot. Olivia in serious relationships, one of which giving her a child; Fin a grandfather; Cragen and Munch retired and onto whatever adventures their next life chapters hold.

He's had things going for him as well, like Maureen marrying Carl in NYC and Eli with his many activities and achievements. And yet, it always seemed to him that everything was at a stand-still. Ever since he left the squad room in 2012 with blood on his hands, since declining Olivia's calls and letting her voicemails linger, since telling Captain Cragen that he's done- nothing has moved for him. It was only when working that he felt alive, putting his life on the line for some greater good - any greater good would do. It'd pick up the pace of his heart's beating, send electricity to his limbs, fill his muscles with force. His life would become visceral. It was the feeling he used to get - feeling alive - when he was with Olivia those years ago. Even in their down times when their hands weren't gripping the steel of their service weapons and thinking on their feet to stay ahead of the perps.

His phone rang. He'd been fixated on the dark brown pool halfway filling his mug. He blinked slowly - black then light. He answered without checking the caller ID. "Stabler... Oh, Kath... Yeah, I see the time," he said, rising from the table and hurrying himself together. "I'm on my way up right now, Kathy... Mmhm... You can tell him I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Olivia was a bit of a whirlwind entering her front door. "I'm home!" she expelled with an exhausted sigh. Lucy came into the living room from around the corner as Olivia was hanging her coat on a hanger by the doorway. "Hey, Olivia," she smiled graciously. "Noah just finished his bath and is changing into his PJs." Olivia returned the smile with even more gratitude than graciousness. "How was he today?"

"As always. Good. After school I let him wind down on the tablet for an hour, then we tackled homework."

"Good-"

"Remember how he used to struggle with math?"

"Uh, actually, I don't remember," Olivia replied. Her face showed her concern and confusion.

"Well, now I think it could become his favorite subject- just don't tell him I said that," she whispered with a poorly contained giggle.

"Wow, Lucy. Thank you so much. We'd be," she sighed, "lost without your help."

"Of course, Olivia. Anything I can do to help."

"Well, actually, let's cut the tablet down to a half hour, if you don't mind. I just- I read some studies, and I really want to be careful about his priorities."

"Oh," Lucy responded. She was a little surprised and felt dejected, considering the progress she'd helped Noah make in school. She knew Olivia to be a great, nurturing, giving mother who afforded Noah all privileges and breaks possible where appropriate. She also felt that he needed to be cut a break more when Olivia was not around than when they're together. "Yeah, no problem. We'll work on it, definitely."

Olivia sighed again, walking past Lucy. "How is everything, by the way?"

"Oh fine," she said, perking up. "Managing households while managing my dissertation- or I think my dissertation is managing me," she joked.

Olivia leaned on the back of the sofa and smiled at Lucy. It was the same smile she offers survivors when they reach that special, needed turning point. She was glad for her. "I don't need to be a professor to know you're doing great, Lucy," she said in a low, maternal tone. "Like I've said before, if there's anything I can offer - letter of recommendation, networking, resources, anything - don't hesitate."

"Of course," Lucy obliged. As she collected her things, Noah galloped into the living room and hugged his mother. "You're leaving now?" he asked Lucy as Olivia caressed his curly brown hair. Lucy nodded and reminded him to be good and to tell Olivia all about his day. The door shut, and he looked up at Olivia, their brown orbs meeting. Her eyes squinted from her grin. "Let me have ice cream before bed," he whispered.

"No way," she laughed out loud. "No sir, my sweet prince."

He whined as she started to slip her feet from her heels, groaning at the release of tension.

"Ah, come on! This is why I wish I had two parents, like Todd."

Olivia's eyes hooked into Noah, and he felt it.

"Who's Todd?" she asked, pretending not to be bothered. "A classmate?"

Noah, at first ashamed, doubled down with careful calculation. "Yeah. He has a mommy and a daddy. And when one of them says no, he asks the other one. And if I had a daddy, he'd let me have ice cream tonight."

"Hmm," she nodded. "Sounds like Todd's mommy and daddy may have some issues later down the road that you're lucky you won't have to worry about." She clicked her tongue and headed down the hall. With a hand on Noah's back, she guided him also. He made himself out to be a prisoner of war, as if he was walking the Green Mile. "Don't take it too hard, pal," she said, the exertion of confidence in her tone no longer a priority. "The ice cream will be there tomorrow after school."

"Okay," he moaned, veering off into his room and falling into his bed. Olivia looked on from the hallway. "I'll come tuck you in after my shower, baby," she told him, endearingly and a little amused at his dramatics. He said, "I'm fine. I'll just go to sleep." She sympathized for him, and for that reason she resisted her face's urge to twist at his attitude. She reminds herself every time he gets dangerously close to stepping out of line that his history is complicated even for an adult to grapple with, and he doesn't even know the fullness of his story. She walked a thin line between spoiling him and taking it easy on him versus being that strong authoritative voice that's there to keep him in line because outside of those boundaries is danger from which he cannot protect himself.

Sometimes she'd think, "As long as I'm doing better than my own mother." Then she'd counter that suggestion with "you can't measure the effectiveness of your parenting against a drunk who had to look into the face of her rapist every day, through the eyes of her own child, until her dying drink." What she needed was a stable example to draw from. In her room, she peeled her work clothes from her body. Blazer. So much of how she conceptualized the meaning of family was drawn from Elliot Stabler as a realistic ideal. Blouse over the head, her hair falling in disarray, strands kissing her face. Elliot's family and his parenting was so far from perfect. Why look to that still, after all these years and after all these parenting books and studies? Pants slide down the length of her legs. It was real. It was a real example, something not only tangible but impressionable. She could reach out and touch it, as well as change its course.

Maybe God remembered how cute you were as a carrot.

She'd been able to convince herself that she was part of that family, which was all she'd ever wanted, to be part of a family. Even as a fringe family member. She shared him with his family like a sister wife of sorts. She was a work wife. She'd looked out for his kids like he'd want and like Kathy'd want. She'd rooted for their marriage in spite of its flaws, and even when she advocated for Elliot to sign the divorce papers before Eli's conception it would only have been for the better of the family. Their greater good, from what she'd been able to tell.

She found herself standing in front of her bathroom sink, the shower's steam causing fog to creep farther toward the center of the bathroom mirror. The blurred edges framed her image. Her expression was reflective. Her round, olive-toned breasts were coddled by the lace-lined cups of her bra. Her skin was otherwise smooth and clear, except for small, healed and faded scars like a sparse scatterplot that skewed toward her chest. Little cigarette burns. She began to feel disgust and shame. She was hurt, but in this moment, it was hurt over what didn't happen rather than what did. "If he'd have seen this," she remarked internally, shaking her head and biting her lip. She felt lonely, and then she numbed over. She needed to shower, check on Noah, go to bed, and do it all again tomorrow. The fog covered the mirror and she could no longer see herself. She disappeared.

Thanks for reading. More is coming.