A/N: Happy Birthday to awildmind- she is the best beta reader I could ask for and she has kept me so inspired on this story. A few things before you dive into this- 1. I had the MOST fun writing it, and 2. If you don't like smut don't read this chapter and especially not the next chapter.

Song: River by Bishop Briggs.

Chapter 25- Olivia

Thursday November 9th, 2006 / 6:57 p.m.

She'd just gotten back to the station house from Miles Sennet's bail hearing. She'd been in court all day, and she hadn't seen Elliot since that morning. He'd come in less angry than he'd been the day before, but they hadn't spoken.

"Well, a statement with this many red flags, no good cop would overlook it."

"Especially not one with a dying marriage and a history of violence"

The look he gave her cut to the core, and she knew she had slashed him when she shouldn't have. He'd laid on her belly and told her that he was afraid he could lose his kids because of his temper, opened up about his history with his father, and she'd gone and thrown his worst fear in his face, insinuating that she thought he could stoop to the level of Miles Sennet, when she knew with all her heart that he was a good man. Elliot would never harm a woman or a child. Elliot had brushed her skin and kissed her belly so tenderly. He had been trying to prove to her that he was none of the things his wife was trying to say in order to get full custody of their kids. She'd never trusted a man like she trusted him, and she couldn't believe she'd let her bitterness reduce her to that level. She was no better than Kathy.

Kathy; the wife who had called just in the right moment, to reclaim her sickly hold on Elliot. Olivia knew she didn't have the right to be mad about the phone call, Elliot was still technically Kathy's husband and she had every right to call him and he had every reason for why he had to answer, why she made him answer. She knew her rage with him this week traced back to the interrupting phone call that fractured her moment with him. For the briefest second, as she slipped on that dress when she was supposed to be putting away her laundry, she let herself believe that maybe it could be easy with him. As easy as red sundresses and Saturday laundromat trips. She wanted to slap herself for entertaining the idea. It was Elliot. Nothing would be easy.

Then his wife had the audacity to call her yesterday and ask her to meet up, to discuss Elliot. The thing they had in common. If only Kathy knew that the last time she'd called one of them, her husband's tongue had been inches from the part of Olivia that wanted him most. Nevertheless, she agreed to meet her partner's wife, because she'd never stop feeling responsible, no matter how much she wanted to be free of their marriage problems.

Her conversation with Kathy from yesterday was still bothering her.

"The truth is, you know things about him that I will never understand, that's what I'm counting on."

"You're his partner. You give him stability. Elliot can't move on until he feels like he's on solid ground."

She didn't know what to say to that, yeah Kathy, he's in my bed all the time, touches my body all the time, but I can't bring myself to have him because it feels like you're still his wife. Or yeah Kathy, this man is broken, because you've made him believe he doesn't deserve the kids he would die for. Or yeah Kathy, he's not on solid ground with me because I've been denying that I want him for nine years because I never wanted to be the other woman.

She was so sick of the games. Maybe Elliot would never be able to sign the papers. Maybe Kathy would have to pay for a forced dissolution, and she'd have the confirmation that he doesn't really want her. She wasn't sure what else to try, to get him to see that he would be okay. She thought she'd made it clear that he wouldn't lose her when she held him as he cried. She'd always admired the life he lived, and he knew that. Maybe he was afraid that when he lost that, she wouldn't see him the same. She'd been trying to guess since she returned from Oregon, in order to help her partner, but she was out of guesses, and now his wife wanted her to make sense of their messy marriage. She was so done.

She climbed the stairs to the locker room to collect her gym bag. She wasn't sure where Elliot was. This morning he'd told her that he'd report back on his finding on Valerie Sennett, but she hadn't heard from him all day. She couldn't believe the last real words she had spoken to him were accusing him of being potentially abusive. Maybe she hadn't seen him all day because he'd requested for a new partner after she stooped to that level. They'd never fought this ruthlessly, this recklessly before.

It was evening, and the precinct was clearing out. It was more likely that he'd gone home for the day without following up with her like he said he would. She realized as she climbed the stairs that she missed him. They'd spent days yelling at each other over this case, and then hadn't spoken to each other today. She wanted to talk to him; part of her even wanted to discuss what they'd started on her couch. She didn't know what she'd say though; it seemed any time either of them opened their mouths they only inflicted more pain.

She opened the locker room door and was pulled from her thoughts as she was met with the sight of him standing in nothing more than a loosely tied towel. He had his back to her, and he was about to pull a t-shirt over his head when she startled him.

"Turn around," she whispered, as she clicked the door closed behind her. She felt her blood begin to rush fast as her mind tried to catch up with what her mouth had just said. That's what I'm counting on. His wife wanted her to convince him to sign his papers, and restraint and respect of their marriage hadn't worked, so she decided at that moment that she had a new plan.

She was done playing.

He lifted the shirt back up and held it in his hands as he turned around. His jaw was tight, and she could sense he was still angry with her.

"You think you're funny, don't you?" he said as he clutched the t-shirt, and she could see the veins run up his forearm. He was wound so tight. She wanted to make him come undone.

"It wasn't funny when you did it," she said as she paced closer to him. His eyes were burning into her. The softer side of her wanted to cup his jaw and assure him that she didn't think such awful things of him, but the angry side of her wanted to make him scream. He'd made both of their lives suffocating. She'd protect him till her dying day, but she was done protecting his marriage, when all it was doing was hurting him.

"You should leave, Olivia," he said. His eyes were squinted, and his chest was tense. So much of his body was exposed. His trapezius muscles flexed as he gripped the shirt in front of the knot on his towel. She could see the trail of hair on his abdomen that disappeared into the towel, the ridges of his hip bones holding up the terry cloth.

"I'm not going to make us coffee, Elliot," she said as she took three firm steps towards him.

"I don't know if you want to get any closer, I'm not sure if you heard, but I have a history of violence," he spat at her, but she didn't care. He could take as many shots as he wanted; she'd already made up her mind.

"Take it off," she said as her eyes landed on his towel.

"There's still people here; are you insane?" he murmured in a low and vexed voice.

"Not feeling like I have much to lose, Elliot," she said as she reached for the towel, but his hands dropped the t-shirt and caught her wrists just in time.

"What's wrong with you?" Elliot said as his fingers squeezed her delicate wrists.

"I'm mad."

"At me?" he asked, his eyes flashed with earnestness, and then returned to cold ice.

"Yes."

"Well I'm mad at you too."

"Great, take the towel off," she whispered.

"I'm not going to fuck you while…"

"If you say while the papers aren't signed, I swear to God, Elliot,"

"I was going to say, while I'm mad at you," he hissed as he dropped her hands.

"Why not? Might help you get over it," she said as her fingers flicked his towel off, and his eyes shot up in shock. It took him a moment to process what she'd done. He quickly regained his composure, and his eyes darkened more than she'd ever seen them before. He was furious.

"Great, nine years of mutual respect, and you want me to fuck you in our place of work when the Captain is probably still in his office?"

"Yes."

"Olivia…"

"The shower stalls have doors and locks, and no one's coming up here anyway. Munch and Fin are gone. No one was in the bullpen."

"I want it to be in a bed," he said, but she looked down and could see he was erect in front of her. The sight of his arousal made her body shiver.

"Well the cribs are right there."

"In my bed, safe."

"Choir boy," she scoffed as she fixed her eyes on his erection.

"Excuse me?" he said as he flicked her chin up with his fingers.

"I'm done with all the excuses," she said with a slight shake to her head.

"I'm not fucking you in a shower stall, Olivia," he said firmly.

"Yes. You are," she said, repeating words he'd spoken to her the first year they'd worked together, as she slipped his thumb into her mouth like she had all those years ago. She licked his digit, and she could hear him groan. He pulled back his hand and pushed off her leather jacket. It hit the bench behind them.

"Take off your clothes," he said as he yanked her jean's button open. She smirked at her success and pulled her shirt off her body.

"If we get caught, you can explain this to the Brass," he growled as he shoved her jeans and panties off in one swoop. She toed off her shoes and stepped out of her pants. He bent to pick them up, shoving them in his locker. All she had left was her bra. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he looked down at her. He let out a breath as he wrapped his arms around her back and unclasped their last barrier. The bra fell to their feet, and she watched his eyes soak in the sight of her before him. He hadn't seen her like this since that day in the locker room six years ago.

"I'll go in first, make sure it's empty. Meet me in a few minutes," she said as she picked up his towel and let it hang off her fingers as she walked to the door that connected the showers to the locker room. She let her hips sway as she walked away from him.