Inspired by the new clip of Elliot and Fin talking. The conversation between Elliot and Olivia that follows. I do not own any characters. Thanks for reading!

Elliot is resting his chin in the palm of his hand, a couple fingers spread across his pursed lips. His eyes are absentmindedly dancing between the two cups of coffee in front of him. Her index finger is swirling around the rim of her mug.

"So," he begins, but trails off. He's discussed this with her a million times in his head by now, but it ends differently every time. He's unsure of what to expect. Clearing his throat, he continues on, "Fin mentioned..." He knows he should meet her eyes with this discussion, but he's mesmerized by her scarlet nail going around and around and around on the ceramic. "He mentioned that you've had a couple relationships, one was solid. And that you have a son." Her finger stills, and his eyes flicker up to her face now that the trance has broken.

"Did he?" Olivia questions, her lips turning downward momentarily to digest this. She is refusing to make eye contact as well. Tension is rapidly rising in the air between their bodies. Only a few minutes have passed, and she's already concerned she'll be choked out. "And, uh, what did he say about that?"

Elliot shakes his head lightly with a shrug. "That was it. Told me to talk to you." He's actively searching for her eyesight now, but she is withholding and instead staying fixated on the coffee she has yet to take a single sip of.

"Hm, well yeah. He's right." She peeks up quickly to discover his ocean eyes awaiting her gaze. She glances back down instantly. His eyes are too intense, always have been. For twelve years, she would lose focus because of them. Even after ten years of never staring into them, she knows he could still trap her with those brilliant sapphires. She sighs, preparing her next words.

"You don't have to—"

"No," she interjects, "this is what old friends do right? Grab a coffee, catch up. So, so let's catch up." She waves a hand through the air to match her heightened tone. "I uh, yes. Yeah, I saw Cassidy again. In the back of my mind I always knew we wouldn't work out, but he gave me some momentary stability." She gives herself a moment to prepare for the disclosure of the next man. "More recently, it did feel serious with..." She exhales sharply and leans away from the table, distancing herself. Trying to force a little tension to disperse, but it's only thickening.

"Who?" he urges, growing impatient with the suspense. He presses both of his elbows to the table and leans forward, waiting.

She closes her eyes and rubs a hand down her face; from her forehead, down her cheek, and snaking around to the back of her neck. Her stomach still churns every time she talks about Tucker—at the thought of his passing, and in knowing she has to defend him once again.

"It was, uh," she whispers, "it was Tucker."

She braces herself for an outburst. Maybe after ten years, he's mellowed. His face has softened with time. The wrinkles around his eyes have become more defined, the creases in his forehead: deeper. She knows time has carved itself on her skin as well.

"Tucker," he responds coldly, his jaw tense. "From IAB? The prick that tried to take down everyone in our unit, you especia—"

"He was just doing his job," she interrupts defensively.

Elliot snorts and crosses his arms. "How many times have you had to use that line?"

She also crosses her arms in response, letting out a hmph, and turns to face the window. She is gritting her teeth and trying to focus on the cars passing to help regain her composure. She waits until she's counted five taxi cabs. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Inhaling deeply, she shifts to face him again.

"Carrying on," she says in a calmer tone. "I do have a son, and his name is Noah." She smiles softly, the first smile she has displayed since sitting at this table. Her arms unfold, and she drops her hands into her lap.

Elliot's arms are still crossed, and he's staring down at the table. He's trying to process something, she recognizes, by the way his eyes are involuntarily flickering around.

"Wait." He lifts a hand up and runs his fingers down the corners of his mouth. "You had- you had a kid with him? With Tu-," the volume of his voice is rising, "what, after everything he put you through?" His cheeks are turning a light shade of crimson, his nostrils flaring.

Her jaw drops while she raises an eyebrow. "Oh, after everything?" she nearly laughs. She scoffs and shakes her head a couple times before leaning in. "At least he was here," she challenges. She smirks at the rage in his eyes, at his bottom lip quivering. Let him be pissed.

He opens his mouth to respond, but she cuts him off. "And before you say anything you'll regret, you should know that he passed away. You don't need to have a temper tantrum over a dead man, Stabler."

His expression changes immediately from anger to concern. The color drains from his face, and his crossed arms loosen and fall from his chest back to the table. "Noah doesn't have a father?"

She sighs. "Noah never had a father, Elliot. He's adopted. He was a baby doe from a case I worked years ago, and now I'm blessed to be his mother."

"I'm happy for you," he responds. "And I shouldn't have snapped like that. I'm sorry."

"Are you sorry for anything else? Like maybe for dropping off the face of the earth? Ignoring me? Making me question if those years were ever real, if you ever actually... existed," she whispers. Tears are welling up in her eyes, ten years of heartache threatening to overflow in a matter of seconds.

"Liv, I-"

"Olivia," she corrects sternly.

"You don't go by Liv anymore?" he asks, blinking in confusion.

She snorts. "Only people who know me call me Liv."

This caught him off guard, and he furrows his brows. "What are you—" he stammers. His voice raises slightly, and he leans towards her again. "Only people that know you? I know you better than anyone," he says sharply.

She slams her palm on the table, rattling the tableware. "Knew me," she bites back. "You knew me better than anyone, Elliot. It's been ten years. Ten goddamn years, and I am not the same person that I was back then."

"I know, I know." He hangs his head in defeat.

"I mean, you never reached out. I got one note from you to last an entire decade," she snarls. "You couldn't even check in when I—" she catches herself then.

"When you what?" he presses.

"Oh, as if you didn't know! Everyone knew," she retorts.

"I really don't know what—"

"Maybe you would have if you didn't leave me!" she yells, shoving the table towards him, causing the untouched coffee to splash out from both mugs, a few drops landing on Elliot's shirt. She launches herself from her chair with a huff, about to storm away when he catches her wrist.

Fury burns in her cheeks, and she yanks her wrist free instantly. She chooses to ignore the feeling of his skin touching hers, how she missed that terribly. The anger easily overpowers that in this moment. With clenched teeth, she lowers her head down, leaving only inches between their faces. "Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me." she sneers. While retreating from his face, she reaches toward her waistband.

His eyes widen when she grabs her gun. "Liv," he warns, his voice cracking. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat. He's seen her angry before. He watched her slap perps across the face. He's had to pull her away when she was out for blood. But this is an anger he's unfamiliar with, and it frightens him.

She detaches the gun, her eyes never leaving his. She can't help but smirk at the fearful expression he's displaying. Her fingers trace down the handle, searching. "I waited for you," she whispers, her voice faltering, "I trusted you."

"What are you—" he mumbles, cut off by a clanking. His eyes fall to the table scanning for the source of the noise. It's his badge, the one he sent her with that note shortly after leaving SVU. She's kept it. All ten years. By the time he glances back up, she's gone.