A/N: Approximately nine months have passed since the end of the last chapter. We are now in season seven and this chapter will reference later season six episodes. The chapter will also cover events from 'Ripped' and 'Raw' which both take place in early season seven.

Songs:Let's Talk About Your Hair by Have Mercy and This Is Us Colliding by Talos.

Chapter 8- Elliot

October 2005

"You're so tense all the time," Rebecca said as her fingers reached out to graze his jawline. He recoiled at her touch.

What would you be if all those controls went away?

I'd be you.

Rickett's words still haunted his nights, and his knuckles still burned with the pain he had released through them. He didn't think the lockers had forgiven him yet.

He let the back of his hand stroke Rebecca's soft hip. He'd been seeing her loosely in the past few months. He'd heard rumors Kathy was seeing a personal injury attorney, so that seemed like reason enough to continue calling Rebecca after a hard case.

"You know I help people for a living," Rebecca offered as she leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. He smirked as a way of saying he knew, and there was a reason he didn't ask for help.

"I could do a session with you," she said in almost a whisper.

"Like a therapy session," Elliot said as he turned to his side in his new bed. He liked this new bed; he'd been sleeping on a hand-me-down mattress for twenty years of his life, and the first thing he purchased as a somewhat-single man was a new mattress. He needed a fresh start. He liked his new apartment and how the morning sun came through his bedroom window. He wondered what the sunlight would look like catching on Olivia's hair. He gulped at the thought and retrained his eyes on Rebecca. Olivia hadn't even been to his new place yet. He didn't even know if she knew he had gotten himself an apartment. Things had been so strained between them.

And look how great you turned out,

It's not all about the genes Liv.

The moment had been a nice lull in their choppy waters. He knew she wanted a baby. That kept him awake. The thought of another man putting a baby inside of her made his jaw tighten, but the thought of getting to see her experience motherhood made it soften a little. She'd be an amazing mother. Every day he felt he was coming closer to losing her to another man, a man who could give her the child she so desperately wanted. His eyes fell to Rebecca's stomach, and he wondered if she wanted a baby too; she was around Olivia's age.

"Yes, like a therapy session," she laughed as she stroked his chest. "I think it could be really good for you."

"You sound like my wife."

"Your ex-wife," Rebecca clarified as she examined his face.

"Neither of us have filed for divorce yet," Elliot gulped. It dawned on him that he was still a married man in bed with another woman. And that woman wasn't Olivia.

"Oh," she sighed as her eyes fell to where her hand rested on him.

"Does that upset you?"

"No," she laughed as she kissed the side of his face and then sat up to get dressed, "what bothers me is that you aren't making use of all my services," she said as she pulled a shirt over her body.

"I'd be willing to try," he said as he thought about how his knuckles couldn't handle another encounter with the lockers.

"That's great, Stabler," she said as she stood. He hated when she used his last name. Hendrix and Stabler. It didn't sound right.

"Isn't it against the law to be sleeping with patients though?"

"Well it's not like we're exactly public with this thing, so I think it's okay," she said.

"Right," he said as he watched her leave his room, and he thought about how he missed his twenty-year-old mattress with the dip of his body carved in its springs.

Elliot sat at the pizza parlor as he waited for Maureen and Kathleen to meet him for his birthday dinner. Dickie had given some excuse about a group homework assignment, and Lizzie told him that she had lacrosse practice. Kathy told him she had quit lacrosse at the beginning of the season. It killed him inside that his younger two didn't want to see him. They had been impacted the most. Their home, their school, their lives, had been disrupted the most because of his shortcomings.

"Dad!" Maureen called as she came into their favorite pizza joint. She rushed towards him and enveloped him in a hug.

"It's been too long," she said into his chest. He'd only seen them a few times in the last couple months. The last time he had really hugged Maureen was on his last birthday when Olivia had surprised him by having them come into the squad room. That was shortly after the separation, when she was still doing everything in her power to keep him taped up and in one piece. He'd been successfully evading her for almost a year. A pang of guilt hit his heart.

"Agreed, honey," he said as he kissed the top of her head. "Where is your sister?" he asked once he realized Kathleen hadn't followed her in.

"Oh she's in the car crying over her hair," Maureen said with an eye roll as she took a seat in the deep booth seats. Elliot used to take Maureen here when her face barely hit above the height of the table. He missed those days.

"What's wrong with her hair?" Elliot asked as he looked for Kathleen from the window.

"She didn't want me to say anything…" Maureen began, and Elliot narrowed his eyes on his daughter.

"Tell me."

"She broke up with Ethan and decided to cut all of her hair off," Maureen confessed.

"Why would she do that?" Elliot said as he scrunched his eyebrows into a line.

"Something about trying to get over him," Maureen said as she toyed with the parmesan shaker on the table. Elliot mulled over the words and what they meant. Trying to get over him.

"Your hair is different," he'd said as she arrived at her desk on Monday morning.

"Oh... yeah," she'd responded nonchalantly like her appearance hadn't been altered in a somewhat drastic way,

"It's short."

"It is," she nodded as she lifted her eyes to him and smiled in a manner that said she wasn't looking for his opinion. He swallowed as he thought to himself, 'It will grow,' as if it really mattered what he thought.

"Did you have a good weekend?" he had asked as memory of her body invaded his mind. Forty-eight hours away from her hadn't been enough to purify him.

"Sure," she said as she picked up the ringing telephone.

In that moment, as he stared at his daughter, who always gave him insight he didn't know he needed, it dawned on him that for over three years Olivia never let her hair grow. His stomach flipped when he realized just how hard Olivia worked to keep herself at an acceptable distance from him, how hard she worked to be over it. He wanted to stand from the booth and rush to her apartment and apologize until his mouth ran dry.

Maybe he was giving himself too much credit, maybe Olivia just cut her hair because she has every right to do whatever she wants, and her actions have nothing to do with him. He was a selfish prick. He was pulled from his rampant thoughts as the bell jingled and signaled Kathleen's entrance.

"You decided to join us," Elliot said as Kathleen approached their booth. She huffed out a breath as she took a seat. She had a hoodie over her head.

"Take that down; it's rude when you are inside," he said as he gestured a hand towards his daughter.

"Promise not to laugh," she sighed as she lowered the hood and Elliot gulped at her choppy blonde pixie cut.

"I like it," he lied.

"Don't lie to me daddy," she said as she threw her face into her hands. She'd always been his dramatic one.

"Oh get over it; it's hair," Maureen said as she bumped her sister's shoulder.

"I never should have done it, and now I have to wait over a year for it to grow out,"

"You know, Liv wears her hair short, and she's beautiful," Maureen said as she darted her eyes across the table at Elliot. He didn't miss the implication. Maureen looked at him for a beat as if she was waiting for him to agree. He wasn't sure what his daughter was playing at exactly.

"You said her hair had grown out," Kathleen mumbled into her hands, and the comment caught Elliot's attention. He knew neither of his daughter's had been to the stationhouse since Liv's hair had grown to her shoulders.

"How do you know that?" He asked his daughters through narrowed eyes. Maureen held his stare and smirked.

"I had dinner with her several months ago," Maureen said as she folded her napkin on her lap like she was proud of herself.

"Why?"

"I wanted to see her," Maureen shrugged, and before Elliot could continue his line of questioning their waitress approached to take their order. He felt his fists tightening as he listened to his daughters place their dinner order.

"Why?" Elliot repeated once the waitress left their table.

"Why what?" Maureen challenged with a grin. She knew what; she just wanted to test him.

"Why did you have dinner with my partner?" he said as he cleared his throat.

"Are you jealous or something?" she asked with a shit-eating grin on her face that made him more irritated. She thought this was funny.

"Maureen," he used her name in order to gain control over the situation.

"Relax dad, let's just enjoy your birthday dinner," she smiled, and Kathleen finally lifted her face from her hands. He'd be asking Olivia what that was about, later.

"So tell me what happened with Ethan," Elliot asked because he couldn't help himself.

Elliot returned to the silence of his apartment. It was 9:00 p.m. on his birthday, and he wished he was home, surrounded by all his kids. He flicked on the kitchen light and leaned over his sink as he shoved his leftover cake into his mouth.

He was glad no one was there to see him like this. He paced to his living room and gripped his phone in his hand as he considered whether or not he should call her.

"Hey Liv, just calling to see what you are doing on my birthday evening,"

"Hey Liv, why did you have dinner with my daughter and not tell me about it?"

"Hey Liv, did you cut your hair six years ago because I'm an asshole."

He decided to dial her number and work out what he was going to say once she answered.

"You okay?" she asked as she picked up the phone, and her question startled him. When had that become how she answered his calls? Usually it was 'yeah, El' or 'what we got' never 'you okay'

"Um...yeah, yeah I'm fine," he said as he paced his living room.

"What's up."

"I had dinner with the girls tonight, and I was thinking about how I haven't had dinner with you in a while…"

"You had dinner with me yesterday at work."

"Right, I meant dinner outside of the squad room," he said, and he could hear her contemplating on the other line. He knew he was poking at something he wasn't sure he should be touching, but somehow, he'd come up with the nerve to dial her tonight.

"Okay."

"I was thinking we could get takeout, and you could see my apartment," he said as he looked at the empty walls around him.

"Elliot…"

"You used to come over for dinner sometimes."

"Yeah, to see Kathy and your kids, to remind myself why I bother looking out for you every day. I see enough of just you," she laughed into the phone, but he could tell she didn't mean it.

"You know we've been working together for eight years. Our anniversary was last month."

"Our anniversary," she laughed into the phone and he reveled in the sound of her rare joy.

"Well, what else do you want me to call it," he laughed back as he tried to picture where she was. He wondered if she was sitting in her living room or if she was already laying in her bed. He wondered what she looked like in pajamas. The thought of his partner in pajamas made him smile.

"So are you suggesting that you owe me dinner after having to put up with you for all this time?"

"Precisely," he said as he tapped his foot anxiously. After a beat of silence he added, "You deserve a medal, Liv."

"You're not that bad," she replied in a soft tone, and it stilled his shaking leg.

"So, take out at my place sometime," he tried to confirm with her. He heard her inhale.

"Sure...if we ever get a night off," she added.

"Deal," he said as he looked around his apartment and tried to picture her standing in it. He'd been living there for almost a year, and she didn't even know the address. He was worried what she'd think, that she'd be disappointed in him.

"I'm going to let you go," she said, and he could hear her body shuffle against her bed. He wished he could talk to her all night and then he realized that there was nothing stopping him from that.

"Night, Liv."

"Night, El, oh and happy birthday," she said, and then the line disconnected.

October 31st, 2005 / 11 Days Later

"Men just need to go to therapy. I think that would solve a lot of the world's problems," Olivia said as she squeezed ketchup on a street-vendor hot dog. He gulped at her words; did she know about his sessions with Rebecca?

"El, are you listening to me," she said as she waved a hand in front of his face.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you wanted relish,"

"Of course," he snapped like he was irritated that she didn't just assume that.

"Well I know you've been having heartburn," she said as she passed him his lunch, and he grumbled a thank you to her.

"What's your problem today?" she asked as she started walking towards their car.

"It's Halloween, the worst night of the year, and Cragen is probably going to have us catching," he said as he took the passenger side.

"Why do you hate Halloween?"

"I used to love it, when we dressed the kids up and walked them around before sundown. Now my daughters want to be black cats and sexy cops."

"Sexy cops, huh," she laughed as she pulled the squad car out into the oncoming traffic. They had to drive to the west village for a witness statement.

"What did you go as when you were a teenager, a sexy cop?" he asked as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Believe it or not I didn't always want to be a cop. One year I went as a hippie, almost got busted for a joint," she said.

"How'd you avoid that?"

"Scuffed it out with my fringe boot when I saw the cop light in the distance," she said as she shot him a smile. She'd been in a good mood lately. He caught himself wondering if it had to do with her personal life. He let his eyes fall to her abdomen, it was becoming an irrational fear of his that one day she would walk into the squad room months pregnant with another man's child.

"We never would have been friends," he said as he thought about himself as a teenager, the brief time where he was just Elliot. Not a father or a husband, just a dorky teenager with acne and no game.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You would have scared the shit out of me," he said as he let his eyes rest on her for a minute. She still did.

When they got back to the 1-6 it was almost sundown, and they knew calls would be rolling in soon. Fin was sorting through candy on his desk, and he tossed them each some pieces as they entered.

"You two can get out of here," Cragen said to them before they'd even settled at their desks.

"Funny," Elliot said as he clicked a pen with nervous energy.

"No, I'm serious; the lines are quiet so far, and Munch and Fin both owe me some overtime. If we catch anything serious, I'll call you guys,"

"Don't have to tell me twice," Olivia said as she stood and began to collect her things.

As they were walking outside the precinct, Elliot posed the question that was on his mind.

"So we both have the night off," he said as she turned around and looked at him. "Remember the phone call…," he began in case she had forgotten.

"I remember."

"In the mood for some take out?" He was so worried she was going to say no. He held his hands in his overcoat and prayed his body language wasn't giving him up.

"I could go for some take out."

"It's a nice place," she said as she dropped her coat on the hook in his doorway.

"You think so?" he asked as he trailed where her eyes were looking.

"You might be a worse decorator than me," she laughed as she stepped further into his space.

"I think I'm a little better than you," he joked as he led her into the living room.

"Born in the U.S.A." she laughed as she looked at the Bruce Springsteen vinyl record, he had hanging above his couch. It was off-centered, but he was proud that he'd managed to hang it by himself. "You can be so predictable," she said as she sat down on his couch. She was still wearing her work jeans, her mini badge clipped to her belt loop.

"Maureen was conceived to Darlington County," he said, and he watched her face twist with the information. He stood with his arms crossed in the middle of his living room as he watched her try to make herself comfortable on his couch.

"Really Elliot," she laughed as she shook her head.

"What!" he shrugged his shoulders.

"Everyone knows the best sex songs on the album are 'Cover me'or 'I'm on fire'," she said as she tucked her legs beneath her. He wasn't sure when she had taken her boots off.

"'I'm on fire'is a short song," he said with a raised eyebrow.

"Women have to keep their expectations low," she laughed, and he couldn't help but think about what Kathy's expectations had been of him that first time. Surely, she never expected to get pregnant and have to spend the better half of her life beside a seventeen-year-old kid she hardly knew.

"Ah," he said as he stared at her for a minute. He'd been avoiding her for the better part of a year, and now she was sitting before him discussing the songs they had sex to in high school. Sometimes he didn't know where to begin with her. It was like they were talking about nothing and everything all at once.

"What do you want me to order you?"

"Surprise me," she said, and he took her word for it and paced into his kitchen to place the order. She knew that he knew what she liked.

When he returned, he brought her a beer. He decided to sit on the recliner chair across from the couch. He wanted to sit next to her, he wanted to lay her body across the length of the sofa, he wanted to cover her, and he wanted to press his lips to her empty abdomen to make sure she was still available to him. He could; there was technically nothing stopping him. Aside from the fact that he was still legally married, and the fact that she had placed him so firmly in the partnership zone that he felt awkward having a conversation with her. He missed the early days when everything between them just flowed. Over the years they had created such an impasse between themselves that he didn't know where to begin bridging the distance. He missed the Olivia he used to tease about haunting, he missed her oversized suits, he missed the way she'd look to him every time before questioning their suspect, he missed the way she would pat his arm like it made her feel better to know he was beside her. He missed the Olivia he knew before that night in the hallway. He missed how she trusted him not to hurt her, not to hurt her heart. He missed the longer hair he ran his fingers through.

Her hair was longer again, after six years it was back to the length it had been those first couple of years, and he wanted to tangle his fingers in it again.

"Have you talked to Kathy recently?" her voice was small, and she cut off her own question by taking a sip from her long-necked bottle.

"Somewhat, she wants to file."

"I'm sorry, Elliot," she said, and her pain for him was sincere. He tipped his bottle in her direction as a way of saying it is what it is.

"Are you seeing anyone?" he asked, followed by a long pull from his bottle.

"Not really," she settled on, and then a silence dragged between them. He prayed the delivery would be quick so they could fill the space between them with food.

"Your hair looks nice," he said out of the blue because clearly it was heavily on his mind. He needed to use their code to say he was sorry, to say he could see it now. Even their code had suffered since the words Kathy left me came between their seamless flow.

"Thanks," she said. The word sounded tired as it slipped from her lips. She wasn't holding him off, but she wasn't giving him anything in return, and why should she?

"Let's watch something while we wait," she said as she reached for the drawer on his coffee table.

"Wait!" he called as he jumped from his recliner and reached for her hand, but she had already opened the drawer where he kept the remote and her eyes had already spotted the journal.

"What's this?" she asked as her fingers dusted over the black book.

"It's a journal."

"Maybe you aren't so predictable," she smiled up at him with her fingers still resting on his biggest secret from her.

"How long have you been keeping it?"

"Just recently."

"Why?"

"It's for therapy, for my anger."

"You're going to therapy?" she asked, and he couldn't help but detect the shock that skated past her eyes. He inhaled, knowing she was edging towards a name he didn't want her to unearth.

"Yes."

"Huang?" she asked, and he could feel her eyes on his fidgeting hands.

"Hendrix."

"Rebecca," she corrected, and he watched as her face drained of all the color the beer had put there.

"Liv…"

"How long?" she asked, and he knew what she was really asking.

"I've only been doing the therapy sessions for a few weeks."

"How long have you been doing her?"

"Why does it matter," he shot back as he leaned forward and dug his elbows into his knees.

"It doesn't," she said, and he watched in horror as she began to stand.

"Where are you going?"

"I just need to use your bathroom," she said as she avoided his eyes.

"Down the hall."

Thirty or so minutes had passed, and she had yet to emerge from the bathroom. The food had arrived, and he was staring at the containers, watching them grow cold. He was chewing on the insides of his cheeks as he tried to come up with a way to mend this. He needed her to understand- understand what?

He ran a frustrated hand over the length of his face as he stood to go check on her.

"Liv," he said as he tapped his knuckles against the bathroom door that was connected to his bedroom. He'd wanted to get a two-bedroom place so he could have the kids stay the night, but rent was too high for that and to let his house sit empty while he and Kathy worked out their next move. The thought of selling the house where all his kids took their first steps made his heart ache.

"I'm fine," her voice responded.

"How about you come out; the food is here."

"I had to make a call," she said. Bullshit. There was no lock on the door, so he knew he could open it if he wanted to. He waited another moment because he wanted to give her the chance to open it to him. She finally let the door fall open, and he was irritated at how composed she looked.

"Who called?" he tested, and he watched as her eyes raised to his and narrowed.

"A friend."

"Right," Elliot said as he fit his lips into a firm line while leaning his shoulder against the door frame. They always seemed to find themselves in passageways.

"Elliot, move so we can go eat," she said as she tried to step around him.

"I want to talk about it."

"Talk about what?" she said as she crossed her arms over her chest and stood directly in front of him. He hadn't stood this close to her in six years.

"Why it bothers you that I'm seeing Rebecca."

"It doesn't bother me."

"You were just saying this morning that the world would be a better place if all men went to therapy. I thought you'd be pleased I was doing this," he said, and he knew it was her turn to call bullshit on him.

"I didn't think you were listening this morning," she scoffed as her eyes fell to their feet.

"I'm always listening, Liv," he said, and the words came out soft, all his intimidation tactics falling as her nickname slipped from his lips. He could see her swallow, and he tried to read her mind to anticipate what she might say next. He hadn't expected honesty.

"I wish you would have come to me."

"I'm a mess, Liv."

"Maureen called me and asked me to have dinner with her because she was worried about you," she said as she risked a glance at him. He smiled to let her know he already knew.

"She told me."

"She did?" Olivia asked, and she seemed shocked.

"She likes to bring you up every chance she gets," Elliot laughed as he thought maybe his daughter was onto something both of them were too terrified to touch.

"You know you can always call me right, Elliot? I don't want you to hide this," she said as she gestured to all of him.

"It's not your job to pick up the pieces of my life."

"It's my job to make sure you're in one piece."

"I am in one piece," he smiled down at her, "I'm okay."

"Yeah, thanks to Rebecca," she said as she chewed on her bottom lip.

"You really don't like her, huh," he said in a soft laugh as he tried to urge her to look at him.

"You're married, Elliot."

"Thanks for letting me know," he jabbed back at her.

"You know that if I was fucking my therapist, you'd be calling the state board," she said as she finally let her eyes narrow on him.

"I would," he agreed as he tried to feel her out. He didn't know what they were doing. Their dance had become so convoluted. He didn't know what he was doing. She had him so completely and utterly lost.

"If you're ever not, please tell me," she said in a tone that diverted from whatever they had been teasing at a moment ago. She'd just flipped the page on him.

"Ever not what?"

"Okay," she said, the word falling from her mouth. It was coated in concern that made him want to place his hands at her feet. He leaned off the door and let his thumb and pointer finger grab at her crossed arm. He hadn't touched her this forwardly in over six years.

"Come here," he sighed as he tugged her arm towards his direction. She unfolded her defense against him, and she didn't protest him when he wrapped her into an embrace. He fit her body against him and enclosed her in a hug. Eight years, eight years he'd spent with her, and he'd never hugged her. They were both masters at denying themselves.

His hand splayed across her upper back. He could feel the softness of her sweater, and the clasp of her bra below her clothes. He let the tips of his fingers cling to the space between her shoulder blades. He leaned his head down so his face rested in the space between her shoulder and jaw. His forehead brushed the gold chain of her necklace.

"I feel like I'm an outsider looking in on my own life," he revealed to her as his speaking lips brushed the dip where her collar bone connected with her shoulder. He wasn't used to being honest about his feelings, but maybe she had a point, the world would be better if men went to therapy. He was trying with everything he had to be honest with her.

"El, you have great kids, you have so much to be proud of," she whispered against the crown of his head. He realized, as she spoke to him, that he'd lied to her earlier, he was far from being in one piece. She was so whole, and he was a million fragmented pieces. Her body held him up in a way that made him feel like less of a man. He thought he'd chosen to hug her as a way to reassure her, but now he was realizing just how broken he was. He needed her to fit him back together.

"I have you too," he said as he let his mouth press into the base of her neck. He inhaled her scent, and it flooded his crowded mind with some semblance of sense.

"You do," she confirmed as she squeezed him a little tighter. She wasn't letting him go or forcing distance between them, and it brought him ease. You do. He knew the real tragedy of their bond was that she didn't have him. He wanted her to have him, but he wasn't in any place or condition to give himself to her. She was so much better than him. It wasn't fair.

He lifted his head and examined the way the corners of her mouth pointed downwards in a soft way. He wanted to kiss her so bad, but he was too damn broken to fit his lips against hers. He let his mouth part as he grasped for words to come to his defense. She'd done everything right- six years ago and tonight and he was standing there repeating their devastating history.

"I know," she said before he could try to explain to her why he couldn't. He let his hand cradle the back of her head.

"I'm okay," he said and then added "we're okay," as he let his hand fall from her hair and hold her firmly on her shoulders. He didn't know if he was asking or telling, but she nodded in understanding and then stepped around him to go eat their cold Chinese food.