Song: Only You by Matthew Perryman Jones.

Chapter 23- Olivia

She heard the key turn the knob of her door. She sat up in her bed, switching on her bedside lamp, waiting for him to appear. Her hair was down, she was wearing a tank top and cotton shorts and she wasn't sure if she should put on more clothing or not.

He arrived in her doorway, his eyes dark and heavy. He was still dressed in his button up and tie. She'd taken a little pride that after her comment about his jeans he'd gone back to wearing his suits the next day. He felt more like her partner already.

"Come here," she said, and he followed her command, dropping his keys and wallet on her dresser. He approached her bed slowly before sitting on the side of the it, some distance down from where she sat against her pillows and headboard. She was trying to piece together what had happened. She knew he was always keeping stuff inside, but he'd seemed in an okay mood when they'd left the hospital earlier that day.

"I'd give you a kidney."

"Not if I gave you mine first."

She moved from where she was resting against her headboard, moving down her bed so her chest fit against his back, her arm snaking around his abdomen as she pulled him against her. Her chin rested on his shoulder as she sat on her folded legs behind him.

She could feel his shallow breaths against the flat palm she was holding against his abdominal muscles. He'd made so many excuses to touch her, but she'd never touched him like this, just feeling the dull wave of him breathing in and out underneath her hand. After a few quiet moments, he moved his hand from his knee, placing it over the hold she had on him, spreading her fingers, and letting his own fingers slip between hers.

"Thanks Liv," he sighed, his head hanging.

"What happened?" she asked, praying that he'd come because he wanted to talk. She knew talking was almost as hard for him as it was for her, but she wanted to carry the weight of whatever was on his mind, whatever had taken the light from his blue eyes.

"A lot of things, I guess," he sighed, his fingers squeezing hers harder.

"Like what?"

"Kathy is angry with me, my kids don't want to see me, you're upset with me." His words crushed her.

"I'm not upset with you, El," she said as she let her thumb stroke just below his ribcage, applying more pressure against him with her arm.

"You should be."

"Why?"

"For starters, Dani…the papers, the case…"

"I'm over it," she said, and they both knew she was lying. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again.

"Dani called you my precious Olivia," he whispered, the word carrying weight as it fell from his lips. She was thankful that he couldn't see her face from the way she was holding him, because she wasn't sure how to react to the information he'd so simply shared.

"How come?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even, ignoring the implications of a word like that. Precious. It was the word used to describe fine jewels, or a child, or something irreplaceable.

"I didn't trust her on the job the same way I trust you. Worried how she'd handle the victims…" he said, and she felt foolish for reading into the meaning behind the word.

"It's a hard job."

"Liv…" he sighed, and she could sense the nerves in his back.

"Hmm," she murmured from behind him.

"You are precious to me." His admission left her speechless. She didn't know what to say to let him know she understood, so she turned her mouth against his neck, letting her lips press into the skin that was reddened by his collared shirt instead. "Thank you for letting me come here," he added.

"Tell me what else is bothering you," she said as her other hand came around him to undo his tie. She wasn't going to let him leave once he started being honest. Her fingers made quick work of unknotting the fabric that was holding him together.

"I haven't signed the papers because I want to fight Kathy for custody," he said as she slipped the tie all the way off, letting it hit the floor. He didn't protest her.

"Kathy doesn't want you to have custody?"

"She wants me to go away. She moved back in the house, will hardly let me see the kids. She's rebuilt our life but doesn't want me in it."

"I'm sure she doesn't want that; you're the father of her children," she said as her fingers undid the top buttons on his collar.

"She doesn't think it's good for them to be around me." His disclosure was broken. He knew that if anything could break him it would be the thought that he was failing his children.

"That's not true," she said as she pulled back her arm, breaking their fingers, as she took both her hands on his sides and turned him, allowing herself to slip from behind him and come around to face him. He moved farther back on the bed, turning his knees in towards her. She sat on folded legs beside him, her hands holding him steady on his sides. "You're a great dad, Elliot; you have to know that much," she said as she forced her eyes onto his. He looked up at her as he bit his bottom lip.

"I'm angry all the time," he said, as she continued to work on his buttons from her new vantage point. She kept her eyes on his shirt, revealing more of his red chest with each unfastened button.

"How come?" she asked as she smoothed her hands across his shoulders, causing the dress shirt to slide down his back.

"It's just who I am."

"I don't believe that," she said as she let her fingers trail to his belt.

"I'm so tired," he said as his eyes landed on her hands working to undo his buckle.

"You can sleep here," she said as she got the belt free.

"I figured that's why you were undressing me," he said in a low laugh, followed by the first tug against his lips that she'd seen all night.

"You think you can keep your hands to yourself?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Scout's honor," he joked, a visual of a boy scout-aged Elliot making her smile. He stood to kick off his shoes and let his slacks fall to the floor, leaving him in only his boxer shorts. She scooted back towards the front of her bed, pulling her bare legs to her chest, as she watched him pull back her comforter. He crawled around her, settling his body down in the middle of the bed, her knees still raised before him. He turned on his side as he looked up to where she sat against the headboard. He reached a hand up to rest on her leg. He let his palm move from her knee to her ankle, on her folded leg.

"You have long legs, Liv," he commented, as if he was merely making an observation. She watched as he repeated the motion, dragging his fingers from her kneecaps and then down around her ankle bones, his fingers pressing into the backs of her calf muscle.

"They help me keep up with you," she replied as she took in the sight of him lying in her bed. His own legs were tucked under her blankets, but his chest remained exposed, the comforter pooling around his turned hip bones. She watched him for a few beats, knowing there was more that was upsetting him, but she wasn't sure how to approach it. She was about to unfold her legs and try to fall asleep beside him when he stroked her leg again, this time pulling it out and down.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked as she let her other leg drop next to the one that he had pulled, her legs now stretched out before her as she continued to sit against the headboard.

"Anything."

He squeezed his eyes and then opened them on her as he asked,

"Do you ever worry that I'd be violent?" he knitted his brows together after he spoke the words, waiting for her to answer.

"Sometimes I worry you'll take justice into your own hands," she admitted, hoping he wasn't too fragile right now to hear those words. She wanted to be honest with him. He sighed as he pulled her leg a little more, pulling her down from her sitting position, as he covered her with his body, mimicking the way he'd laid on top of her three weeks ago. Her legs naturally adjusted around him. She thought about reminding him of his Scout's honor, but she knew he just wanted sleep, wanted her close. She didn't mind. She'd missed the feeling of his weight on top of her.

"Do you ever worry that I'd hurt you, when I'm angry" he clarified quietly, as if he was afraid to speak the words. She didn't understand why he would ask her that. Of course she never worried about that. Elliot Stabler would never hurt a woman or a child. and she knew that he would never hurt her; he'd spent so many years making sure she never got hurt. She tried to search his eyes for the reasoning behind such a question, but he was looking down, his chest still risen above her. He had her head caged in again, his forearms making a goalpost around her.

"I've never, ever worried about that, not once…where is this coming from?" she asked.

"Kathy is saying my history of violence is one of the reasons I shouldn't be able to have custody of the kids," he confessed in a voice threaded with anguish. She could see his eyes grow glassy as he spoke the words.

"Hey," she breathed as her fingers found his chin, tipping his face up towards her, "look at me," she added and then said "I know you'd never hurt your family, and I know you'd never hurt me, and screw Kathy for suggesting that." The bitterness seeped into her tone. She'd never spoken an ill word about his wife all the years she'd been stuck between the problems in their marriage, but this was where she drew the line with keeping her opinions on Kathy to herself.

Then, she thought about the last week, how she'd made the comment about him glowing in fatherly pride over Dickie getting in a fight; she'd made a jab about his anger management. She wished she could take it all back now that she knew Kathy was using it against him in this way.

"I know the warning signs of an abuser, El. I would not have stayed being your partner all this time if I thought you were a dangerous man," she added because she couldn't tell him enough. She'd word it as many ways as she needed to, so he'd understand just how much trust she had in him.

He didn't say anything. Instead he moved down her body until his face was level with her belly. His fingers lifted her tank top, and she watched with careful eyes as he did it. He pushed the cotton up until it bunched underneath her breasts. He skated his fingertips across her newly exposed skin.

"I hate that she thinks that I'd be capable of that," he said, his fingers continuing to flutter against her, and she knew that he was trying to demonstrate his gentleness.

"She knows you're not. She's just lashing out."

"Dickie's getting in fights, Kathleen screams at Kathy when she doesn't let her do what she wants, and Lizzie is so private that I'm afraid I don't know her," he said as his touches stilled over her navel. He was looking at her skin as he spoke because he was too vulnerable to meet her eyes. She didn't mind laying beneath him and offering her body as a focal point for him to process his emotions.

"They are kids; kids go through things. It's not your fault," she said as her fingers reached for his hair. She'd never touched him in the way he always seemed to touch her, but she figured tonight warranted it.

"I'm afraid it is. I hate that I haven't been a good role model for them."

"You are better than most kids have," she said and then added, "your anger needs to be managed, I won't lie to you El, but I trust you more than I've ever trusted any other man," she closed her eyes after she spoke the sentence, hoping she hadn't said too much. She opened her eyes to find his mouth descending to her skin. He kissed along the length of her abdomen. They were sad kisses, pained kisses, kisses of reassurance that he'd always protect her.

His mouth was warm and fitting on her skin, and it filled her with contentment. She'd never had a man touch her body like this. It wasn't sexual, it wasn't leading anywhere, it wasn't selfish- it was appreciation, understanding, adoration. She'd never felt so seen, so exposed.

His hands sculpted the sides of her waist, his hands almost large enough to cover the expanse of her. Then his cheek found a home against her stomach. She could feel the moisture at his eyes making contact with her navel. She hoped he'd find some sleep and peace against her. Silence filled the space, and she started to feel her eyelids grow heavy when he spoke in a murmur against her.

"My dad hit me." The words jarred her awake. Her hand reached again for his head, resting along his hairline so he knew she was awake and listening. "It started when I was a bit younger than the twins, maybe ten or eleven," his words were gravely, like he was pulling them up from roads he'd never wanted to travel down again. "I was so embarrassed about it; he did it because I was a pansie, that's what he said anyway. I cried too much for a boy. I was weak compared to my brothers."

"You were eleven." I was sixteen. No eleven-year-old, no child, should have to be strong.

"I only wanted him to be proud of me. He wasn't around much. When he was, I wanted to watch tv with him, play ball with him, go fishing," he said, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke into her, instead of to her. She knew opening up didn't come easily to him. She'd known him all this time and had no idea. She didn't want to push him. "I became a cop so he wouldn't think I'm weak."

"You're not weak, Elliot."

"He was hard on me for everything I did, every project, every try out, every date. I couldn't do anything right for him. He laughed in my face when I told him Kathy was pregnant."

"I'm sure you were a great kid," she whispered, repeating words he'd spoken to her in their first year of partnership. She pictured him then, behind her eyelids, a child Elliot begging to throw a ball, cast a fishing line, be loved by a father who was too consumed with anger.

"The first time was over a 5th grade school project. I'd moved a plastic tree in my diorama. He stepped on the project and beat me with his belt when I cried about it," he revealed, and her blood boiled.

"I would have arrested your father; I would have kicked him too," she said, the need to go back and protect a younger Elliot burning her up inside. She hated Joseph Stabler. She hoped he wasn't resting in peace but rather, in the damnation that Catholics seemed to believe in. He kissed her belly again at her words, a silent thank you.

"It would stop for a while. He'd get me Knicks tickets. We'd go on family trips upstate to the beach. Sometimes I'd hear him with my mother in the kitchen, stuff banging around, and I'd hope he'd come up and take his anger out on me instead. Then I got older; when he'd threaten my mom or one of my sister's, I'd punch first. Sometimes he'd have to call out of work and me out of school because the black eyes were so bad."

"You were protecting your family back then too," she said, protecting his women. He never spoke of his mother or his siblings. It startled her that there was still so much she didn't know about him. She had a newfound hatred for Kathy that she could use his anger against him when she likely knew about the environment, he grew up in.

"He was good on the job, Liv. I wanted so bad to be like him; I chased the one thing that was good about him. He was a good cop."

"He should have been good to you," she whispered as her thumb dragged over his temple. He lifted his gaze to her and gave her a forlorn smile.

"When he died, I realized I'd never heard him say it, he never said it."

"Said what?"

"That he was proud of me," he said, the words sending his eyes downcast.

"Hey," she said as she cupped both sides of his face, "I'm proud of you," she breathed out, "you survived," she added, and she couldn't ignore the emotion in his eyes. All these years she'd spoken those words to the victims they worked with, she never knew that her partner needed to hear them too.

"So did you," he said as he let the point of his chin rest on her chest, his body moving up her, as his hands came above her head once more.

"She hit me, when she was drunk" she confirmed, and he nodded as he said,

"I know."

"I kicked her back once, almost killed her, Casey knows about it. It came up because of a case a couple years ago. I had a lawyer help me out of the mess. It was when I was engaged to her student."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to think I was violent," she sighed as she looked into his eyes.

"I'd never think that," he said as he ran his thumb from the junction of her nose and top lip, down to the fullness of her bottom lip. "You're beautiful, Liv," he said, and she was completely taken off guard.

"Where did that come from?" she tried to cover her surprise with a soft laugh. She hadn't expected him to say that in the slightest. He'd made a comment about her looking beautiful after the Rachel Martin undercover operation, but this was different than that. He wasn't talking about how she looked in a dress; he was talking about her. Elliot Stabler did not give compliments. In fact, he'd never given her any, besides on that case, in the entire time she'd known him. He could never vocalize how he saw her, and she'd begun to believe that all he saw when he looked at her was complications and heartache. Not beauty.

"Dickie made me realize I should tell you more."

"You've never told me that before."

"I've thought it for as long as I've known you," he said as he moved his hands under her, rolling them over, so she was on top of him. She settled against his bare chest, absorbing the compliment that she wasn't aware she needed to hear. His arms wrapped around her, making her feel small.

"El?"

"Hmm?" he responded as he stroked from the base of her neck to the valley at the base of her spine. His touches were growing languid, and she could tell he was slipping into sleep.

"I like when you tell me things."

"I'll keep telling you things then."

"Good."

"Will you keep telling me things too?" he asked as he tangled his fingers in her hair.

"Yes," she nodded, feeling the fear threatening her peace.

"Thank you for letting me come here," he said, and she thought about the mixture of fear and relief she'd felt when she'd picked up his call and realized he was making her good on the offer she'd given him over a year ago. She hoped that he was feeling better now. She prayed she had helped him. If she couldn't be anything else to him, at least she could help him. She answered him by kissing the base of his neck in the same way he'd kissed her belly, of course.

"Sleep now," she said against his neck, and she felt his chest give into her order, his breaths instantly deepening and elongating until they were hardly pushing against her belly anymore. She looked up to the sight of his relaxed jaw and closed eyes. He looked young, like he could be childless and still discovering who he was. She was proud of who he'd become, what he stood for, how he coped with the things that weren't done fairly to him. She loved that he wouldn't cave to the weakness that his father had. He'd spent his whole life trying to be strong, to escape the projection of an angry man who'd failed him. When she was certain he was in a deep sleep, she spoke the words that had been pressing at her throat all night,

"I love you."