A/N: Hello! Parts of this chapter are rated M. You have been warned. Also, don't be alarmed by the cliffhanger. There is a final chapter after this one which is 10k words, so rest assured that things have time to resolve. Don't panic! As mentioned, there is one more chapter after this one. I hope you enjoy and let me know your thoughts! Finishing a story of this length is not easy, but it has been a great experience writing these closing chapters. I hope they do the story some justice.

Songs: Snow Plow by Bahamas (song for the opening scene) and What Could Be as Lonely as Love by Amber Run (mood at the opening scene and towards the end).

Chapter 30- Elliot

Wednesday December 20th, 2006 / 6:35 a.m.

He watched as her legs sprinted in front of him. He felt his muscles straining in his jogger sweats, and he wanted to call out and beg her to slow down. Running after Olivia had become his most challenging pastime. The banks of snow in the park and the shadow of his exhale were making him wish they were back in her bed, under her covers and remaining strangers to the world outside.

"Liv!" he begged as his palms found the tops of his aching thighs. She turned around and ran back in his direction.

"We still have a mile to go," she said as she jogged in place, the biting cold had colored her cheeks and nose red, but she didn't seem to be bothered.

"No," he huffed as he looked up at her face, "I gotta be done, let's get some coffee and a shower before work," he said, pleading with her. He wanted her to stop running at lightning speed. He wanted her to sit on the park bench with him. He wanted her to hold a cup of warm coffee between her hands and tell him that today was the day she wanted to tell Cragen. He wanted to touch her, wrap an arm around her waist or spread his fingers through hers while they waited in line at the nearby coffee stand, but he knew he couldn't. She wouldn't let him. She hadn't let him touch her in public; she'd hardly agree to go out in public. He wasn't sure if it was an all the time preference or if it was her refusal to accept that their relationship couldn't remain a secret forever.

"Coffee does sound good," she agreed, and she followed him in the direction of the coffee stand.

They stood in line, and he listened to her shiver. Her stubbornness, her little daily refusals made him clench his jaw. He wasn't one for PDA, in fact he hated it, but the idea that she was afraid to claim him in the daylight was worse. Kathy always reached for his hand, touched his arm, called him honey, and on most days, he dreaded her simplistic intimacy because he knew he'd have to reciprocate to maintain pretenses of being a good husband. He'd mastered the role of tenderness in his marriage because it had been what Kathy wanted, but now- with Olivia, she wasn't asking him to play any part, and it made him feel like the lights could go out on the stage at any moment. He hated to admit that he didn't know how to act around the woman he'd spent a decade being so in sync with.

Some days he resented that they'd changed their relationship; some days he grieved for how he used to be able to anticipate her needs. He knew when a case was weighing too heavy or when thoughts of her mother were consuming or when she hadn't been sleeping. He would hand her a coffee and tell her he hadn't slept either, and she'd give him that smile that assured him he'd made her day a little better. Now that she had him close, he wasn't sure how to keep the monsters away.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked her, in almost a silent tone, as he shoved his gloved hands deep into the pockets of his joggers.

"Nothing," she replied through chattering teeth, and it infuriated him that she wouldn't talk. They hadn't spoken about the test; the negative test. He'd wrapped her into his arms and pretended he couldn't feel how heartbroken she was. He didn't dare ask her if she wanted to keep trying in the morning. He knew having a family with her could only happen as an accident, not by intention, Olivia had no concept of family outside of accidents and vile intentions, and he couldn't make her see that he wanted to give her family, but with the best of intentions. She was his family, their blood used to run the same, so in sync, and there was no one he'd rather have a fifth child with, but how could he tell her that when she wouldn't even allow him to hold her goddamn hand in the coffee line?

It wasn't even about wanting to hold her hand. Hand holding was for Hallmark movies and false security. It was about being sick of running. It was about how she said "nothing," instead of speaking her mind. It was about how she wouldn't let him go to the drug store and stay with her while she took the test. It was about how she pushed him out at every turn when all he was trying to do was show her that he was there.

He didn't want to impose or overstep, or imply that she had to be anything she didn't feel she was capable of. He was trying to give her space: he avoided talking about work, the relationship, the test, the holidays, but the space was becoming increasingly isolating. It wasn't about holding her hand; it was about needing to know he hadn't lost the one person he used to be able to say anything to.

"You okay, El?" she asked as she glanced up at his chattering teeth. Her words shattered his train of thought, bringing his gaze down to her.

"Fine," he said as he looked away from her and focused his stare on the shortening line in front of them. He heard her exhale, and then to his surprise he felt her take a half step closer to him, her arm wrapping around his back as she leaned into his side. He almost jumped from the touch, not having expected her to move into his space. He adjusted to the surprise and quickly secured his arm around her, his fingers finding the dip of her waist and taking satisfaction in being able to hold her.

"It's cold," she offered as justification for her unexpected move, and he agreed by exhaling his knowing laugh through his nose. His gloved fingers stroked her knuckles, covering and shielding her exposed hands from the frigid morning air.

Friday, December 22nd, 2006 / 1-6th Holiday Banquet

"What do you think?" she asked as she emerged from her bedroom wearing her dress for the evening. He stood from her couch and turned to look at her. The dark green dress reached the floor. The fabric was some kind of silk that he was dying to touch. It was tight around her breasts but flowed over her hips, barely showing the gold of her strappy heels. She had her hair in a ponytail, her bangs dusting her smokey eyes. He blinked as he took in the sight of her standing so calmly in front of him. Nine holiday banquets he'd spent his night ignoring how attracted he was to her, and now he was sitting in her home, and she was asking him what he thought. He paced towards her, and he placed his hands on her waist. He'd never been a man of words, and she wasn't a woman who received them, so he stayed silent as his eyes swept over her, but he hoped she knew that it wasn't possible for him to love her more.

He looked at how his hands rested on the curve of her waist, and finally he was beginning to believe that she wasn't going to disappear from his grasp. Over a month had passed, and his hands on her skin, on her heart, in her life, hadn't yet destroyed them.

He let one hand rise to her neck, letting the motion of his thumb on the back of her neck say more than words ever could before he released her and reached for his phone.

"I think that I'm going to call a cab, so we are forced to go to this thing," he said as he let the dial tone on his cellphone ring.

He watched as his partner talked to a variety of colleagues. He sat and nursed his drink, but his eyes remained attentive on her, following her every move as she made her rounds in the banquet ballroom. He watched as the fabric of her dress swayed with her steps, how it clothed her backside, how everyone in the room was wondering what she looked like naked, and he knew. He grinned to himself as she moved, sitting with the feeling that for so many years he told himself that he could look, but he couldn't touch- but now, he knew that the only person in the room taking her home tonight was him.

He thought about the first time he saw her unclothed all those years ago. He thought about how his body betrayed his commitment to be professional towards her. He thought about how he cursed himself for wanting her, but now he was free. He was free to have her, and he trusted that when she turned around her eyes would always be searching for his, no matter how big the room was or how many people stood between them.

His thoughts seemed to be a premonition because she turned, those dark eyes seeking him, her lips rising into a small grin. From yards away he was still her focus, her touchstone, the person in the room she wanted to share all her laughs with, and the knowing made his blood run warmer.

His fixation on her eyes was disturbed when Fin approached his lonesome table.

"No one wants to sit with you, Stabler?" Fin joked as he pulled out a chair.

"Don't feel obligated," he retorted as he forced himself to look to Fin, instead of at Olivia.

"Well, at least someone looks at your ugly mug like it's the only one in the room," Fin said as his eyebrows raised in the direction of where Olivia stood across the room. Elliot felt his throat close off at the clear call out. He reached for his drink and sipped it in order to avoid giving a response. Fin only laughed when he didn't say anything. He was hoping Fin would spare him and change the subject, but instead his colleague said, "You're being good to her?"

Elliot narrowed his eyes as he turned to Fin. "Are you being good to Munch?" His tone was bitter, and Fin rolled his eyes.

"I'm always good to Munch," Fin chuckled as he continued to test Elliot. Elliot took another sip of his drink. "Does Cragen know?" Fin asked, and Elliot gripped his glass harder.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he responded as he shot Fin a pointed look to let it drop. He couldn't have Fin giving up their secret. He wanted to do it in their own time. More importantly, he wanted Olivia to do it in her own time. He'd scream it from the rooftops tonight, but he knew there was more on the line for her. Any negative perceptions of their relationship had more potential to fall on her. Despite the finality of his divorce, he knew there were people that would view her as the temptress, as the other woman. He hated that he'd be let off easier, because between the two of them, he'd always been the guilty one. Turn Around.

"You're a lucky bastard Stabler, don't screw up a good thing," Fin said, clapping him on the shoulder as he stood to leave. Elliot felt his stomach fall. He didn't know how Fin knew, but clearly they hadn't been keeping things under wraps as well as they thought they were.

"Fin," Elliot said, and Fin turned to hear him out. "Don't say anything," he whispered, and he knew in doing so he was giving the biggest confession of them all. Fin's face broke out in a wicked smirk.

"Don't you love when you can sweat someone into confessing to something that was only a theory?" he laughed, and Elliot grated his teeth. Fuck.

"Fin," he repeated, his voice conveying that he didn't find this funny.

"Relax Man, my lips are sealed," he said as he threw Elliot a snide Scout's honor.

The panic was threatening to ruin his evening when he sensed his partner behind him. She leaned down and said into his ear,

"You wanna get out of here?"

There was nothing he wanted more.

They stumbled down the entrance to his apartment. Her mouth was hungry on his as soon as he got the door to swing open with the key. Her nails were still sunk into his thigh as they had been the entire cab ride.

"Get inside," he said as he slammed the door behind him, his fingers tugging on the ties at the back of her dress: it was beautiful, but he wanted it gone. He finally got the back undone, and he didn't hesitate in ripping it down her body. The blood rushed to his groin as he fulfilled his three-hour-long banquet fantasy of getting her home and undressed.

"Why did we even bother going?" she said between fervent kisses, and he shook his head to communicate that he didn't know. Then he spun her around, the fullness of her ass consuming his field of vision. She was hurrying towards his bedroom when he helped her on her way by letting his open palm strike her across the curve of her backside, his hand then cupping and grabbing at her. The smack of his hand on her flesh sent her whirling around. Her wide eyes latched onto his as her fingers fisted around his tie.

"Are you mad because you couldn't touch me all night?" she asked as she tugged him by the silk fabric around his neck.

"Now that we're home, I couldn't help myself," he confirmed, and she grinned at him as she led him through the threshold of the bedroom door. She pulled him and then forced him around, so his knees were backing into the foot of the bed. She moved quickly on his buttons, his belt, and then his suit pants, freeing him of all his clothes. She tossed all of the articles behind them, aside from his best black tie. She held the silk diamond in her hands as she said,

"I want you to listen to me tonight." Her manicured nails pulled the fabric in a tight line between her hands, and she eyed it with all her ideas. "Lay back," she instructed, and he couldn't help but shiver at being told what to do by his partner. He fell back on his bed, bringing his body towards the headboard as he laid down in surrender for her.

"What are you going to do to me?" he asked as she moved above him, her legs brushing against his as she found herself on top of him.

"Do you trust me, El?" she asked as he looked up at her.

"Of course I trust you, Liv," he said as his hand reached for the crease of her hip where she sat against his erection. He touched the lace of her black thong, the thong that matched her bra.

"Then give me these," she said as her delicate fingers circled around his wrists, pulling his touch from her hips.

"I want to touch you though," he said, as he watched her push his hands above his head, extending his arms against his headboard.

"Not tonight," she smirked down at him, her breasts in his face as she made quick work of tying up his wrists with his tie on the panel of his wooden headboard.

"That's not a great restraint Liv, you should have used cuffs if you didn't want me touching you," he tested as he pulled against his ties, trying to demonstrate to her how easy it would be for him to break free and dominate her.

"This isn't about the restraints El, this is about you following instructions," she said as she tightened the knot on his tie and then dipped her lips to his.

"I don't like following instructions," he groaned, and she pushed his chest down, letting her hand rest at the base of his throat as she leaned in once more to kiss him, her teeth playing at his bottom lip.

"Oh, I know," she laughed as she kissed down his chest. His body was fully at her will, and he watched in fascination as she moved down the expanse of him like he was sacred land. He'd never let a woman restrain him: he liked being in control. Not that sex was control, because it wasn't, but there was something about being bound that never appealed to him- until now.

She arrived at his erection. Her hand closing over him and pumping him before her lips replaced her grip. No matter how many times she did this he'd never be able to comprehend it: his partner, his Liv- her brown hair, her full lips, giving everything over to him. Then she removed her mouth, and he watched as she let her fingers trail to her lingerie. His eyes darkened as he realized what she was about to do. She pushed off her panties as she let her own fingers tease at her opening. His arms twitched as he watched her: he wanted to break free, but he also didn't want to miss out on the sight playing out before him. She moaned as she parted herself, her fingers dipping into her opening and then over her clit. Watching her touch herself had surely turned his chest red, and his mind was racing. Her eyes were closed as she moaned against her own ministrations.

"I used to do this and think about you," she disclosed, her eyes opening to look at him as she spoke words that somehow made him harder. He couldn't form a response because he was breathing too hard. She bit down on her lip when she realized her effect. She moved her opened legs directly over him, grabbing his hard-on and lining him up at her opening. "Now I don't have to do that anymore," she said as she guided him inside her. He watched her eyes falter at the moment of his intrusion into her body, her mouth forming in an 'o' shape as she sucked in a breath. He tried to thrust into her, but she pushed his hips down.

"My way," she clarified as she began to move on top of him. He was overcome with the sight of her rocking her hips against him, her ponytail bobbing as she found her tantric rhythm. He could see the muscles in her abdomen and the lace border of her bra on her breasts.

"Take it off," he said, and she looked to him with a tight smile.

"That's not following instructions," she reminded as she moved up and down his length, his need to meet her movements growing impossible.

"Liv, please," he said, as he realized she'd turned the tables on him completely: now he was the one begging. His rival, his equal- she always had been, and her body fucking his was all the confirmation he needed. She considered his pleas and seemingly gave in as she reached behind her back and unhooked the hinges of the bra that he knew she wore only for him.

Her breasts were unveiled before his eyes, as she tossed her bra behind her. He groaned at the sight, the need to touch her sending him straining against the damn knot that she'd tied tighter than he'd given her credit for. Scout's honor.

"Fuck Liv, let me touch you," he said, his hips bucking in protest to her little game.

"No," she said, as she increased her wicked pace on him.

"I can get out of this," he said as he tugged, pulling the headboard an inch off the wall before it snapped back and likely disturbed his neighbors.

"You won't," she said in warning, as she leaned down on him, his length threatening to slip out of her, as her breasts came dangerously close to his mouth. He tried to kiss her there, but she quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Hmmm," he groaned at the realization that she didn't plan on holding back. He tried to bite at her palm, but she wouldn't free him. Her eyes only darkened further.

"Just let go, El," she said as she began kissing on his neck, still not letting up on how she was capturing his groans with her hand. Her hands, her capable, trusting hands, that he'd place the uncertainty of his future in every time. Instead of biting, he kissed her palm, accepting that he was completely at her will, her disposal, her taking- she could do whatever she wanted to him, and he'd trust her time and time again. She was his partner, for better or worse.

His body gave in, sinking into the waves of pleasure that her mouth was giving him. His skin prickled with new sensation as she touched every inch of him. She finally released her hand, and he inhaled a deep breath. She placed her hands at his hips, digging into his skin as she neared him to his climax. She looked at him and smiled, then something seemed to flash across her gaze as she leaned forward and undid his tie.

"Yeah?" he checked with her, before he let his arms fall down, the blood rushing and tingling all over as he regained control of his body.

"Touch me while you come," she instructed, and he didn't hesitate to pull her into his arms, sitting them both up as their hips continued connecting. His hands reached for her neck and then smoothed down her shoulders and over her breasts as he pushed into her with force. She began to cry out, and he felt himself losing control. His increasing pressure on her breasts caused her to pulse and finish with him. She looked to his eyes in pure surprise that their bodies could be so in sync. He laughed because he knew; he'd always known. The minute he touched her fingers he knew they had a kind of magic that was rare, and he thanked his God and whoever she prayed to that he'd gotten the chance to cross her path. He was lost in the electrifying descent of their climax, his mind grappling to understand how he could be so entwined with another person when she leaned into him, her words drawing him from the brink of his ecstasy.

"I love you," she said simply, the words spoken softly as if she was afraid, they'd betray her if she said them too loudly. His heart thudded with shock. He'd been rendering the words meaningless with the frequency he'd been using them in the last weeks, in his efforts to assure her. It frightened him that she wouldn't return them. It scared him that she'd never find the capacity to tell him simply. "Did you hear me?" she whispered when he didn't respond.

"I heard you, Liv," he said as he pulled her flush against him, letting the beating of her chest fall against his. Their heartbeats were a seamless duality as he mirrored her words, whispering them feather light against her ear, so she'd never unhear them. I love you, too.

Saturday, December 23rd, 2006

"I'll have the house special and a drip coffee," Elliot said to their waitress, and then Olivia ordered French toast and tea. The window next to their back-corner booth was fogged with an end of December snowstorm. It was Saturday morning, and Elliot found himself yawning for the third time.

"You tired, El?" she asked as she played with a sugar packet. She'd kept him up all night, touching his body, telling him stories about how she was a waitress through college, how she had a secret predilection for listening to the birds chirp before she had fallen asleep, and how she loved French toast after sex. Visions of her in a black apron, serving coffee at Siena College's hangover diner brought a grin to his face. His offer to make her French toast was countered with her surprising suggestion that they go across the street to the diner he'd wanted to go to a month or so back. She was finally catching up to him, their mutual running and falling ever exchanging.

"Someone kept me up until 5 a.m." he said as he flicked a salt packed across the table at her.

"That someone sounds really demanding," she teased as she flicked the packet back at him, sending it flying past his ear and dangerously close to ruining their neighboring booth's breakfast.

"She is," he laughed as he nudged her foot under the table. This is about you following instructions. He had to force his mind off the previous night's events because they were in a family establishment, and he knew neither of them could justify sex in a public bathroom, especially being two SVU detectives.

"Tomorrow's Christmas Eve," he stated, in efforts to redirect his train of thoughts.

"It is," she nodded as the waitress approached with their tea and coffee. She sipped her tea, and she waited for him to go on.

"I usually have the kids on Christmas eve. Maureen texted me that she's going to drive down from school," he said, and he watched as her eyes processed.

"I usually spend Christmas Eve alone, so it's not a problem El. I'm glad Maureen can come," she smiled at him, her genuine belief that she thought he was saying he didn't want to spend Christmas Eve with her too, made his heart hurt.

"That's not what I'm saying," he said as he cleared his throat. She arched an infuriating eyebrow at him. She could be so dense sometimes.

"I don't understand, Elliot."

"I want to spend Christmas Eve with you too," he clarified.

"But you'll have your kids," she said as she sipped her tea again.

"Yeah…" he trailed, waiting for her to realize what he was saying.

"No, that's your time with your kids, I won't impose."

"It's not imposing," he said in a stern tone, but she looked away, her eyes looking through the fogged window. She was silent so he said, "Liv?" She turned back and gave him a small smile.

"I can see you on Christmas day, it's not a big deal," she said, and he huffed in frustration as he leaned across the table,

"My kids are my world," he began, and she cut him off.

"I know El, that's why I don't mind. I understand, I never expected to see you over the holidays, I knew you'd be busy with your family," she said so matter-of-factly, her earnest smile making his blood boil.

"Jesus Christ," he groaned as he leaned back on the booth in exasperation. She could be impossible.

"Why are you upset?" she asked, her tone spiking right as their waitress approached with their steaming breakfast. She seemed to swallow her comebacks and waited for the waitress to leave before returning her glare onto him. He shoved a piece of bacon in his mouth and chewed aggressively while he tried to come up with the right words to make her understand. He swallowed and then said,

"My kids are my world, and so are you, and I want those two things together," he said as he popped the yoke of his over-easy egg, stabbing it with his pent-up irritation with her and her inability to realize exactly how he wanted her. She crossed her arms as she leaned back on the booth. She looked at her French toast with distaste as she considered what he was saying.

"Elliot, I don't think it's a good idea," she said in almost a whisper.

"What?" he asked as he dropped his fork and stared at her.

"Me being around your kids, they hardly get to see you as it is, and the last thing they need to worry about is their dad and his fucked-up relationship with his work partner!"

"So that's how you see us?" he swallowed as he folded his arms over his chest, matching her stance. Their guards both rising, the lines of their internal struggle drawn as they stared each other down across the booth. She didn't respond so he finished the thought, "Fucked up, you think we're fucked up?"

"Lower your voice," she said as her eyes flicked around the restaurant. Perhaps that was why she'd evaded going out in public for so long. It was only a matter of ill-timed requests and moving too fast with his attachment to her, before they'd find themselves in a downward spiral.

"Well?"

"I don't think we're fucked up El, but I think it would be confusing for your kids to suddenly have me around."

"My kids aren't little, they'd understand."

"I don't want them to have to understand," she swallowed, and his defense softened when he realized that the difficulty, she was giving him, the refusal she was insisting on, was only to protect his children. She'd always been protective of his kids, and he realized now it was because she loved them. She loved them because they were a part of him.

"They love you, Liv," he sighed, and he watched as her eyes fell.

"They won't feel that way when they realize we're sleeping together," she gulped, and he did too.

"They don't have to know."

"They'll figure it out, like you said, they aren't little anymore."

"So what," he shrugged as he tried to sort for a pathway out of this.

"So what? Elliot, they're going to think we've been cheating their entire childhoods, the entire time you were married to their mom!" she said, and then she started to slide out of the booth.

"Liv, come on," he sighed as the reality of her outburst settled on him. She was right.

"I need some air," she said as she walked out the door of the diner, the little gold bell dinging like a painful reminder in her wake.

"Love is the recognition of oneness in the world of duality"

- Eckhart Tolle

"Every explicit duality is an implicit unity"

- Alan Watts