A/N: This is the end! I can't say enough how much the response to this story has meant to me. It got me back into the groove of writing and I hope to continue doing so for this fandom. A few notes: This story had a very specific ending that had to change along the way. My intention at the beginning had been to go through the entire canon timeline (I know, crazy) but, I felt it would be too painful to have Elliot return to Kathy after everything they have been through in this story. With that said, there is still a lot I'd love to explore with the season 9-22 canon timeline and I may do a sequel that continues to follow canon events (yes, it will be angsty and heartbreaking) However, I don't want to commit to that fully because I think this story concludes in its own way and I want to allow us all a happy ending! So for now, this story is complete pending an epilogue. The epilogue will divert from canon and is a special couple part story I have planned.

So basically, there is more coming, and you will be able to choose the path you'd like to see them take together. As a writer I really wanted to explore both pathways. So keep your eyes out for the potential sequel and the separate epilogue. I hope to post them at some point into the new year. I also have another story in the works that I might dedicate some time to before publishing these sequels.

A/N 2: This chapter has portions that are extremely emotional and took a toll on me to write. There are specific songs for the scenes which I will list below. One scene in particular explores how hard it is to get to a truly vulnerable place with another person. I wanted to give a slight content warning for it. It might seem rocky between them for a bit but have faith that I will lead us somewhere happy.

Songs: Listed in the order that they flow through the scenes.

Say Something by A Great Big World.

Only by RY X (this song inspired the very emotional scene that I mentioned in the author's note. I really encourage you to listen to it).

Hollow- Acoustic by Belle Mt.

Never Again by Bahamas (this has become the theme song for the story in my mind).

Love Like This by Kodaline.

Bad Love by RY X.

Peace by Taylor Swift.

Chapter 31- Elliot

Saturday, December 23rd, 2006 / 6:00 p.m.

He found himself in a familiar position. His fist planted on her door, his forehead on his balled fingers as he reasoned with a higher power. Let her open the door. Purging his heart and mind to her door frame had become a sort of ritual. Except this time he hadn't come to apologize, he'd come to yell, and God help him, he needed to yell. At her.

His fist gave way to the hiss of the hinges. Her hair was tied in a loose bun, she was wearing grey sweatpants that he was pretty certain were his, and a long sleeve t-shirt. Her face was bare, and she looked tired. Her eyes were missing their light. It must have been taken by hours of overthinking.

"I left because I don't want to talk about it," she said, despite stepping back and letting him inside. He chewed on his lips, prepping his mouth for the river he was going to let run. She didn't want to talk but she was at least going to listen. She'd left the diner, left him sitting in that booth like a fucking fool. He'd spent the last six hours apart trying to justify why she couldn't let him in, and in that time he'd come to the conclusion that he was sick and tired of all her damn excuses.

"Well that's not good enough," he swallowed, and her eyebrows arched, clearly taken off guard by his honesty.

"I thought you didn't have any expectations," she jabbed, as she pushed her door shut and walked to her living room. He followed her, knowing she was walking to the far corner of the room, because she too could sense that he was about to explode.

"You left me at the diner! You think that shit doesn't upset me?" he asked, as his arms became a barricade over his heart.

"I left because you have expectations!"

"Of course I have expectations Olivia, we're not fifteen!"

"I told you that I don't do this, so I don't know why you're acting surprised," she said as she raised her voice, her weight on one of her hips, her face calloused and cold.

"Because we are in a relationship!" he yelled, and she let out a bitter laugh that made him want to throw something. "And when you're in a relationship you talk about things, you don't walk out!"

"I told you Elliot, I told you this is what would happen, and you told me you didn't care," she spat as she turned around, so she was facing her window.

"I want you to spend the goddamn holidays with me, what is so fucking hard about that?" he demanded, as he took two strides towards her, but she turned and put her hand up, warning him not to come closer. He fell back, trying to respect her space.

"You don't get it," she said, her voice lower than it was moments ago, and it startled him because he didn't get it. It was the first time in all the years he'd known her that he didn't get her at all, and it took a little piece of his soul.

"Then help me get it, I want to get it, Liv," he said as he uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. She was silent, her back turned to him, when finally she said,

"Just leave."

The words corrupted his bloodstream. They'd spent seven weeks navigating how much they meant to each other, and she could cut him off with two words, in two seconds, and she wouldn't let him see if she was devastated over it or not.

"Fucking talk to me," he insisted, his words coming out in anger, nothing about his tone understanding or soft.

She spun around.

"Oh? Like how you'd always talk to Kathy?"

His blood boiled. He repressed his words for so many years because he knew his wife couldn't bear the burden of his truth, but Olivia was cut from his cloth, and it was high tide for his years of forgotten speeches to come to the surface.

"Why do you want me to talk so bad, Elliot? What are you looking for me to say?"

"Anything Liv, God, I don't care, anything, I feel like since we've started this, I've stopped knowing you. You shut me out constantly. And No, I didn't talk to Kathy, I talked to you! And I'm asking that you talk to me, now. I need to know what's happening in your head."

"Elliot, you already know everything about me," she said, and he knew it was a lie. She was a well that he'd never stop falling into.

"That's bullshit! I don't know why you won't come to Christmas with my kids."

"Yes. You do! Stop acting like you don't know that I'm right. It's the whole reason we never should have done this!" she screamed at him; her brown eyes almost black with regret.

"Well, it's too late for that because we did it and we're in it and you need to own up to that. Stop acting like you can make me disappear when it gets too hard for you. I'm not guy of the week, that you can throw out after a few uses!" His words were ugly, and they burned his throat as he spoke them.

"Screw you!" she yelled, and he could hear how he'd shattered her. He turned away from her, sinking down to her couch, surrendering his forehead to his hands. All the clarity he'd arrived with, all the speeches he had prepared to convince her of his loyalty had escaped with their mutual inability to communicate. This was why he didn't bother with words; they never got him where he wanted to go.

"Livia, I didn't mean that," he said after a long lull of silence.

"Yes you did, now get out," she said, and he knew he should listen, but his bones wouldn't allow him to give up on her. He sat on her couch, and she leaned against her window, and they both trembled.

"When you were in Oregon, I looked through your photo box," he stated, his eyes on his shoes as he spoke absently to her.

"Why are you telling me this?" she seethed. Her voice was enraged; the voice he loved so much was filled with so much pain, and he hated that he was the cause.

"There were all these photos, versions of you that I don't know. Your birthday photo when you were five, your prom photos. You talk about college because you were away from your mother, but there is so much you never talk about Liv, there is so much about your life that you won't let me see. Christ, I had to snoop through your stuff just to be close to you!"

"And didn't it occur to you that there's a reason I don't talk about those things! I don't want you knowing, it's nothing I want to relive."

"Why not?"

"Because it's ugly and I…" her voice broke off as she looked up at the ceiling, "and I can't," she concluded in resignation that broke his heart for her.

"That's what a relationship is, it's about not hiding the ugly things," he said, and then he swallowed as he added, "It's why my marriage failed."

"Elliot…." She threw his name out like a bargaining chip, begging him to give up and leave.

"Please Liv, tell me something. Tell me about that birthday party, tell me about prom or your first time, or tell me about the night your mom died, anything." He was grasping at strings, pulling on anything in hopes it would get through to her. He knew she existed below the surface, hiding so many parts of herself, becoming a shell so people couldn't see how deep her pain ran.

She laughed darkly.

"You want to know about my birthday party Elliot? -I cleaned my mother's vomit off the floor. You want to know about prom? I don't remember it; I drank so much because I thought it was what you were supposed to do because it's what my mother did. You want to know about my first time?" she asked, her words trailing into cold laughs, before she turned and walked closer to him. "I was a freshman in high school, barely fifteen. He was a senior. I was at some house party and he fucked me in the bathroom against a sink. I never talked to him again, he wasn't my boyfriend Elliot, he probably didn't even know my name!"

His stomach twisted at her story, anger fuming in him that no one looked after her. He was a father to three girls who had been and would be fifteen, and the thought of that happening to any of them left him sick. "See! See, that look on your face right now, that's why I don't tell you! Nothing was romantic or fond memories for me, but how could I expect you to understand that when your first time was with your wife!" she called out, her voice swelling, her words turning to yells. She stood in front of him, her shoulders slumped, her bottom lip quivering, and it began to hit him. She thought she was too damaged for him. She viewed his life as the model and herself as the wrecking ball. She was sickeningly wrong. He rose to his feet to set her straight.

"My life wasn't perfect, Olivia! I got married before I knew who I was! I don't have preferences about anything in life because I never had the chance to discover what they might be. I don't know how I like my eggs or how to spend my time off. I couldn't be honest about how most days I hated my life because people would have told me I was selfish because I have four healthy kids and a wife who supposedly loved me. I didn't wake up and feel inspired, I was stressed all the time, trying to keep it together so I could support my family. I was fucking miserable for years, and the only person who even noticed was you! I was so damn empty; I didn't have passion for anything. I went through fucking motions because I didn't know how to do anything else. But now, I have wants, I've never allowed myself to want until now and you're telling me I shouldn't, that I have expectations, but….I…." he lost his momentum, his speech drying up as he searched her eyes, hoping she'd pick up something from all he'd spewed out. "Come on," he begged as she stood stoic.

"What do you want, then?! Just tell me, because that's clearly what you came for- to tell me all the things I'm going to fall short on!" she screamed.

"Well for starters, I want to be allowed to want things. Maybe I want more than a spare key. Hell, maybe I want a house on a hill, maybe I want a dog, maybe I want a child that's not an accident!" His voice boomed, and her eyes went wide with how he was refusing to hold back.

"And I told you we can't have those things."

"Why not?!" He retorted, and she stepped closer, her forearms visibly tremoring with the energy pent up in her body.

"Do you hear yourself Elliot? You want a dog? You want a child? Are you kidding me?"

"No! No, I don't know," he grumbled as he shook his head, "I just want you to visualize it with me, allow it as a possibility."

"It's too late," she said in almost a whisper, and once again she was right. He followed her move and stepped closer, braving the distance of her living room, the room that had become one of the battlegrounds of their partnership, falling second to the lounge in the precinct where they'd war over their disagreements about cases.

"Well maybe it fucking is," his words were mean, intended to hit her like daggers, "but maybe I want to say it anyways."

She let out a heavy exhale. He knew the sand was slipping through the hourglass, his chances decreasing like the grains of earth.

"There were things I wanted in life. Did you know I wanted to be an architect? How fucking ridiculous is that," he laughed in a deep pitched yell, as he cracked his knuckles, trying to channel his rage. "I wanted to move to Pennsylvania because I loved trees. I wanted to design and build my own house on land, not mortgage a shit hole commercial real estate home in Queens. I wanted this house to have fireplaces and a big wrap around deck for my future kids to play on and I wanted a tire swing in the fucking trees because I had one as a kid that I'd go sit on when my father was raging like a maniac. I wanted to find that space of peace again. I wanted all these things and then I had to forget about all of them. I let it all go because it was stupid and I had a reality to deal with, broken garbage disposals and a wife who needed to believe more than anything that I was happy in the life we scrapped together, and I did a marvelous fucking job at pretending- until I met you." He felt like collapsing. The words were an exodus of emotions and long-lost needs that he'd let rot inside of him for far too long. Now they were out in the open, claiming the air with their desire to manifest. He looked to his partner. Her head was bowed. "I spilled my guts, say something," he pushed, the fear that this was all for nothing began to consume him.

More silence; more standing in place- unmoving, stagnant.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he cried as he sent a fist into her couch cushion, his body crumpling to the sofa. He was going to lose her. He'd lost her. How can you lose someone you love so much? Why is the world cruel? Why are his circumstances consuming? He was going to have to walk out now because she wasn't giving him another option. He knew she loved him back. He didn't have a single doubt that their feelings didn't run the same way, but she was so walled up that he couldn't reach her. He was going to say her name one more time, and then he would be gone.

"Olivia."

She looked up.

"I don't know what you want me to say," she said in an icy and strained tone. He was on the verge of tears, and she looked entirely unaffected. Her armor was unnerving. It scared him that she'd learned to be like this. All he could see was that little girl with the birthday hat who decided being alone was safer. Didn't she know that he could see right through her? Didn't she know that he meant it when he said he loved her, even if her mother never had? He realized words were their problem, as they'd always been.

"Get on the ground," he ordered as he picked the pieces of himself up off the couch and redirected his plan. He wasn't going to lose her. Not yet.

"What?" she asked, her eyes lifting as she sensed the change in him.

"I said get on the ground, lay on the floor," he ordered as he shoved his pointer finger in the direction of her area rug. Her eyes registered in some kind of understanding as she lowered her body to the rug. "Lay down," he repeated and despite resisting him all night she followed his command and laid her body out on the rug. He felt sick as he undid his belt buckle, shoving his jeans and boxers down as he positioned himself over her. "Is this all this is to you? You don't want me to love you Olivia, you just want me to fuck you?" he challenged, his eyes sinking into hers. She didn't waver; she stared back at him, testing him as she shrugged her brittle agreeance. "Fine," he grunted as he yanked at her sweatpants, ripping them with no gentleness from her body. She lifted her hips, and he tugged her underwear too. "Fine, I'll do just that, and then I'm going to walk out and not invite you to Christmas," he said as he got closer to her face, pushing the insides of her thighs apart as he settled between her legs.

"You're not even hard," she noted, and he narrowed his eyes at her. Of course he wasn't hard: he wasn't the least bit turned on; he was angry and afraid.

"Then make me hard," he said, the words looming between their lips. She wouldn't break his gaze as she reached for him, stroking him, and he hated himself for responding. He needed her to break, but she was Olivia, and she was stronger than any other person he'd ever encountered. He didn't want to continue, but if he knew anything about her, he knew that eventually he'd strike a nerve; he just had to dig deep enough. He opened her legs more as he lined himself at her entrance. He pushed inside and watched as her face winced: she wasn't ready; she wasn't aroused either.

"This is what you want? Tell me to stop," he said, and she shook her head no.

"Fine, I'll keep going," he said, even though he wasn't moving, he was just bracing himself above her, hardly inside of her. "Like that boy in the bathroom, I'll keep going and then I'll forget your name," the words damaged his throat. Her eyes didn't falter.

"Is that what you want?" he asked again as he moved out and slowly back in, her body resisting him.

"Sure," she said as she swallowed.

"Sure," he repeated as he shook his head. This wasn't working, and he was dying inside. She was forcing him to ruin all their intimate experiences, tainting them with this. "It's easier if I don't care, right?" he prodded. She closed her eyes, and he took that as a sign that he was getting somewhere. "Tell me what you really want, Liv."

"Nothing," she insisted, but he could hear the cracking in her voice.

"What did you want when you were fifteen? What did you want before that boy in the bathroom? What did you want before Serena told you?"

"Nothing!" she almost yelled until the yell gave into the cry, "nothing," she repeated, "nothing," she insisted as the tears started streaming down her perfect face. He withdrew immediately. He watched as she crumbled, and it tore him down too. The tears kept coming as the "nothings" turned into "this." It was so delicate he almost didn't hear it at first.

"It's okay, it's okay," he soothed as his thumbs wicked away the tears under her eyes. "I got you," he whispered as he brushed her hair from her face. "I got you, Liv," he repeated as he picked her up, pulling her into a sitting position, folding her into his arms. "Come here."

"I wanted this," she said through tears. "I wanted you," she finally admitted as her arms wove around his neck, pulling him into an embrace that titled the axis of his world.

"I know," he said as he kissed the top of her head, "I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner," he said as he moved his kiss to her forehead. "But I'm here now, if you'll let me."

"I'm sorry that I couldn't say anything," she said as she pressed her hands to his shoulder blades. "I know that I'm messed up," she added as she shook her head softly.

"You're not."

She lifted her face, her hand finding his cheek as their pupils locked. "I don't want to lose you, El."

"You won't."

"Do you remember the Virginia Hayes case?" she asked. Her eyes shone up at him from where she laid with her head on the tops of his jean-covered thighs. Her legs were stretched out horizontally next to the length of the floor, and his were stretched out below her tired head. He was resting his back against the bottom of her couch. His thumb was still caressing her forehead. They were both too exhausted to move from her floor. Her tears had subsided, and her eyes had closed for some time. He thought she'd almost fallen asleep, and he'd planned to bring her to bed, but then she spoke. Her voice was wispy as she mentioned a case that he had to pull from the endless bank of tragedy that he stored in his mind.

"You knew that she killed him, and I couldn't see it," he replied as the details of the case returned to the forefront of his brain. He remembered asking Olivia how old she'd been when she'd gotten involved with an older man, just like Virginia Hayes. Her response, from all those years ago, filtered through his thoughts like a ghost from his past: About as old as I am now, and I'll tell you something, I couldn't have loved him more.

I was a freshman in high school, barely fifteen. He was a senior.

Her words from tonight echoed behind the ones from years prior, and a clearer picture of the woman before him began to emerge. He moved his hand from her forehead and placed it on the swell of her left breast, pressing it into her heart. She pressed her eyes shut once more, and he watched her swallow from her laying-down position.

"You don't have to tell me, Liv," he said. Since she'd started crying, he realized he had no right. He'd forced her to break down. He needed her to break down to affirm his own insecurity, and he felt horrible. He wanted her fully and, in every way, but she'd told him from the beginning that there were roadblocks to her heart, and he'd hardly headed her warning, believing he'd be the one who could overcome them. Now, as she laid on him and trembled at the thought of opening up, he realized that even their bond wasn't invincible against everything she'd endured in her life. He was an arrogant asshole for assuming it could. "You don't owe me any explanations, Liv," he sighed as he combed her hair. He'd come demanding explanations, but he was beginning to understand that asking more of her would never be the way to her heart. It was sitting in silence and letting her decide.

"When I was sixteen I dated a man who was thirty-three," she said, and his brain registered the facts. They were facts he knew: she'd mentioned it in passing over the years they'd worked together. He knew the man was her mother's student and that they'd been engaged for a while. The story made him loathe Serena Benson. The story made him sick. The age gap was the same between him and Maureen, and the reality that no one protected the woman he loved from a man, who had no qualms about being intimate with a girl who could be his daughter, made him want to send his fists through walls. He forced himself to steady his breathing, stroke her hair, and listen. He'd come demanding reasons, and she was trying to speak.

"If you tell me his name, I'll hunt him down and kill him," he said, his tone mostly serious, and in response she gave him a sad smile before she added,

"I was in love with him." Her lip quivered at the words. "His name was Andrew."

"I remember on the Virginia Hayes case you said something about soulmates."

"And you said something about love not absolving an affair," she sighed as she relayed his words from years ago. Being in love, that does not absolve an affair.

"Did you think he was your soulmate?"

"At the time, I did. I loved him because he told me how he was going to take me away. I wanted to be free of her, and he could provide that. I know you think Serena should have protected me from him, but when I was sixteen, I felt he was protecting me from her. He told me about this grand future we'd have together. I wanted to have his babies and the big white wedding, and all those things sixteen-year-old girls want. I thought I had the fairytale. I was naive."

"You were sixteen."

"He was married, El," she said as her eyes blinked up and captured his gaze. His heart sunk. "I didn't know. I didn't know until she walked in on us, a toddler on her hip and a baby in her belly. The apartment he took me to was his 'work apartment' in the city for doing school in silence away from his kid. I found out he had a whole life in the suburbs that he'd managed to avoid mentioning for the six months he had an affair with me. I'll never forget that day, his two-year-old son pointing at me and going 'who's that, mommy?' and his wife telling him to get his 'whore' out of there."

His hand stilled in her hair. The news rang like intruding bells in his ears. He hated picturing what she was telling him. He hated that this man crushed her sixteen-year-old self's dreams.

"I felt filthy. It was a few days later when my mom told me. She said, 'he held me down and gave me you.' Until then I'd let myself believe that maybe I had a real father out there who she was hiding from me. I thought maybe when I was eighteen, I could find him and get to know him. She told me the truth about him when she was in a drunken rage: she was mad because I'd cut my hair. I chopped it all off when I found out that Andrew was married. Then she told me to get out of her house and go to one of those men who could be my father. Except I couldn't go to Andrew anymore. I gave him back the engagement ring, and his wife threw all my things in the sewer by the apartment building. I started going to other guys instead, usually older."

He gulped.

"But after that, after learning about my conception and Andrew, sex wasn't the same; nothing was the same," she said, and there were tears on the rims of her bottom eyelids. "I'd find myself with some guy, usually a short-term boyfriend. So many of them would tell me how beautiful I was, how smart I was, how they wanted to date me or even marry me. They'd tell me they loved me, and they'd touch me, and they'd want things from me, and all I could think was 'how dare I enjoy this,' how dare I enjoy sex, enjoy love, when my body was made from rape and hate."

He wanted to assure her that he loved her unconditionally. He loved her voice, he loved her mind, and he loved her body. Nothing else mattered, even all the things she wasn't yet ready to give to him- the reasons he'd showed up angry, but he stayed silent. He'd come off the same as all the men before him. Words of affirmation didn't work when no one had proven to her that any of it could be true.

"I felt filthy all the time," she sighed, and then she paused, her tears slipping on her cheeks like soft raindrops on a windowpane. He didn't disturb them, just let them fall. "I loved him and all the things I wanted and dreamed of with him dissolved so fast. Everything had been a lie to keep me coming back to his bed."

He thought about his brash demands from her today. He wanted to believe that she trusted him not to break her heart, but he was realizing that her distrust ran deeper than her love for him. He wanted her to want- from him. He wanted her to know he was not the same.

"I never wanted to be anybody's mistress. I wanted to be his wife, El, but he already had one."

There it was. She wanted to be his wife- but he already had one.

"You thought it was love, Liv; you didn't know."

"Love doesn't absolve an affair. I was still his other woman, even if I didn't want to be."

"We're not having an affair," he said as he pulled her up, pressing her to his chest as he rocked her a little, his hand firm on the back of her head.

"I wasn't talking about us," she said, but her words were feeble. He knew what she was telling him in the only way she knew how- I wanted to be his wife, but he already had one. After some time she amended her previous statement by saying,

"I never wanted to be your mistress, because in another life, I would've wanted to be your wife."

He lit her candles. The ones she kept in a box underneath her bathroom sink. He briefly wondered if they were the candles, she'd gotten from her shopping trip during her time at Computer Crimes. He lined the candles on the ledge of her bathroom sink as she removed her robe and dipped her toe into the warm bath water.

She'd told him she was exhausted, that her body was aching from talking about the pains she'd buried over the years of her life. He knew she needed to relax, to let go of everything they'd dug up.

"Liv, I need to apologize," he began as he turned to face her tub. She was lowering her body below the bubbles on the surface of the scalding water.

"For what?"

"I made you shut down. I won't have expectations going forward."

"It's not just physical for me, El, but the other stuff...I can't want it yet because it could go away. It's too new, your kids are..."

"I know, and you don't have to take it on. It was selfish of me to ask you to."

"I care about your kids. I don't want to lose them either. I don't want to change how they see me. I've always been their dad's partner, not their dad's..." she trailed off, so he reached down and touched the side of her face.

"My kids know that I care for you. I don't know if you've noticed, but I've never been great at hiding it," he said as his thumb dipped to her bottom lip, but he quickly pulled it back, knowing he should leave and let her decompress. "I'm going to go," he said. Before he could turn, her fingers caught him around the wrist and tugged him back.

"No," she said, her eyes widening with something he'd come to recognize as her pull to him. "I want you to stay."

"You sure?" he asked, feeling like he'd been intruding for too long, but she nodded her certainty, so he began removing his clothes. He got into the other side of her bathtub, stretching his legs towards her as she sat up and came closer to him. He wet his hands and smoothed them over her hair, down her neck and shoulders before taking the weight of her breasts in his hands.

"El?"

"Yeah?" he said as he moved the bubbles on her skin, in a trance of warmth and comfort provided by her skin and the hot water.

"Will you kiss me?" she asked softly, and he couldn't help but laugh as he settled her in his lap, securing his arms around her back as he said,

"Of course I'll kiss you, Liv." Her question was innocent, asked as if she didn't know that he constantly wanted to kiss her. He pulled her closer to his chest; her warm and smooth skin was surrounding him. He leaned in and kissed her mouth. She opened immediately to him, and he grinned against her lips as he let his tongue enter her mouth. She moaned as his slow kiss kept finding her, her tongue meeting his and taking her time as well. It was a slow exploration. He hadn't kissed her like this before, all his attention strictly on her mouth and nowhere else, their bodies too exhausted for sex, their mouths only seeking expression that couldn't be conveyed with language. It was the only fitting way to end their duel. He kissed her without limits or constraints, her mouth forming to his. He reached for her throat, pressing below her jawline to coax her mouth more, drawing out and sucking on her tongue as her fingers came up and secured their natural spot around his wrist. She held his wrist while he held her neck, her moans washing over him, pulling him down and allowing him to become lost in her. He never wanted to resurface.

He kissed her for minutes, long undisturbed minutes that belonged only to them. They were like teenagers, hungry and unabashed. He felt tied to her, merged with her, but he knew, he feared, that in the coming weeks she'd push him away once more. Perhaps she always would, because she didn't know differently, but for now, she was safe from those patterns, her mouth sensual and unafraid. Against his lips she whispered,

"I wish this wasn't hard."

"I know," he sighed as he moved his kiss to her temples, over her eyelids- trying to kiss some ease onto her. "It's simple when it's only you and me," he said- Elliot and Olivia, not Stabler and Benson, not father and partner- just them, who they were at their essence.

"El?" she said in a question.

"Hmm?" he murmured.

"I want to spend Christmas with your kids," she said, and instead of responding he kissed her more- harder and faster. Her hips raised for the second time that night, but now it wasn't a challenge, it was natural, inevitable. Having the water and her core around him sent little shockwaves through his senses. He pushed into her gently as she sat on top of him. It was the kind of sex that was habitual, easy and slow like they'd been together for a decade: because they had been. Their movements undid the pain of earlier. Their bond reformed, their trust reaffirmed, as her nails curled into his wet skin.

When the water turned cold, he helped her from the tub, wrapped a familiar silk robe around her body, and blew out her candles.

Sunday, December 24th, 2006 / 6:00 p.m. / Christmas Eve

"Shit!" he groaned out as he dropped the burnt tray of food onto the stovetop, the charred smell filling the apartment as he scraped a hand over his defeated face. "This is your fault!" he called out as he turned around to see Olivia approaching him. Her hair was still tousled, and her neck flushed with heat.

"How is this my fault? You're the one who forgot to check on it," she said as her eyes flicked to their destroyed and smoking dinner that he'd spent all morning preparing for his kids' arrival.

"I forgot to check on it because you were distracting me!" he grumbled. As he ran the tray under the water, the contents sizzled as the water hit the ruined meal.

"You weren't complaining," she said as she came closer, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned over his shoulder to access the damage.

"Great, this is great, they are going to be here in an hour, what the hell am I going to do," he said, as he slammed the water off, trying to fan away the smoking moisture. He was irritated. His heart was thumping. He'd made the meal Kathy traditionality made on Christmas Eve because he didn't want his kids to feel like everything had to be different on Holidays now that their parents were officially divorced. He wanted the evening to be perfect. He rarely had all four of his children in one place, and this year he'd have Olivia too. He needed everything to go smoothly, and already things were off to a terrible start. He prayed it wasn't an omen for the evening. He hung his head over the sink as he tried to steady his breathing.

He felt his partner wrap her arms around his midsection as she pressed herself to his back. "You know, they invented this great thing called takeout, if we order now it will be here by the time they arrive," she said as her fingers stroked him, calming him down, in only the way she knew how. He laughed at her suggestion. His Catholic family would die before they'd order Chinese take-out on Christmas.

"Was this your plan all along? Distract me so this would burn, and I'd be forced to order you takeout?" he asked, as he pulled her hands off him and turned around to face her.

"Of course not, El. I'm sorry it burned," she said, her voice sincere, but she couldn't keep the small grin off her face.

"Chinese on Christmas?" he said in a grimace.

"I've been doing it for years," she shrugged, and he was once again reminded that when he went home to traditions and family, she always went home alone. He was glad this year was different. He grabbed her by her belt loops, taking in the sight of her tight jeans, silky black blouse, and light red lips. She was wearing some kind of strong fragrance that she must have put on for the holiday. It was the most potent below her ears, which were adorned with little silver hoops. Her hair was curled and falling against her shoulders, her bangs just above her eyes, which were heavy with eyeliner that made her brown eyes shine. She was beautiful. She was here- in his kitchen on Christmas. She was with him.

"Chinese on Christmas," he repeated in acceptance. Olivia wasn't six hours of prepping a pork roast no one wanted to eat or tradition or obligations. She was Chinese on Christmas, and he wanted it every year.

Maybe the omen was that traditions didn't need to stay the same.

"Dad! Liv!" Maureen said as she entered his apartment. She dropped bottles of wine and finely wrapped parcels in his hands before turning to hug Olivia. He'd told his kids that Olivia would be spending the evening with them, but they'd agreed that they wouldn't tell his kids anything. They needed to tell work first, so as far as his kids were concerned, she was still only his partner.

He watched as Maureen pulled Olivia into the living room, telling her some story about her new post-graduation job. Kathleen was on the couch next to her boyfriend that had tagged along. They were sitting too close for his liking, but he turned his attention instead to how his youngest daughter sat beside his partner and showed off her Myspace profile. Olivia smiled at Lizzie as they talked about music and the song Lizzie had on her homepage.

He was in the kitchen trying to get the Chinese cartons lined up so everyone could come grab some when Maureen sneaked up behind him.

"Hey Dad."

"Hey Mo," he said as he licked some spilled orange sauce off his finger.

"What do you think about Katie's boyfriend?" she asked with a chuckle as she helped him set out plates and chopsticks on the counter.

"Seems like a punk," Elliot groaned, as he turned to face his daughter.

"Of course you'd say that; that's why I didn't bring mine."

"You have a new boyfriend too?" he asked, as he looked at her slack jawed.

"I don't know Dad; do you have a new girlfriend?" Maureen shot back, pushing her fidgeting hands into her pockets as she squared off with him. Of all his kids, she'd always been the one that picked up on his interrogation tactics.

"What would make you ask that?" he countered.

"Olivia looks awfully beautiful," she said, her voice full of suggestion.

"Olivia always looks awfully beautiful," he said, and Maureen's eyes shot up, "has nothing to do with me having a girlfriend or not," he added quickly, causing Maureen's eyes to fall back down and narrow on him.

"So, you do have a girlfriend?"

"I do not."

"Does Liv have a new boyfriend? Is that why she looks so glowy?"

"You should ask her yourself," Elliot said as he flicked his eyes to the other room where Olivia was gathered around the other kids playing some kind of card game.

"I guess if she had a boyfriend, she'd be with him, not spending her night with you and your mess of kids."

"Probably true," he shrugged, as he put his hands in his pockets as well.

"So, there isn't anything I should know about, Dad?" she pushed, her blue eyes shining with curiosity and a hint of insistence, which he was proud she'd learned from him

"Nope, no, just didn't want my partner alone on Christmas."

"I see….," she said slowly, as she kept her eyes on him. After a weighted pause she added, "you'd tell me, right?"

"Tell you what, Honey?"

"If you and Liv were more than partners."

"Mo…," he sucked in a deep breath as he chanced a glance at Olivia. He wanted nothing more than to be honest with his daughter, but he knew he couldn't go against Olivia's wishes. He knew he had to be delicate. Work had to come first, then his kids. "She's my partner," he decided, and Maureen rolled her eyes.

"Your awfully-beautiful partner," she snapped back, not missing a beat, and he internally cursed. His daughter was twenty-three, she knew what being involved looked like. He leaned in, closing the distance between them, so his voice could be low as he said,

"Let's put it this way: there's nothing your siblings need to know."

"Got it," his daughter said as her face broke out in a grin.

"Yeah, yeah…" he groaned, and then added, "go tell them all to come get this shitty Chinese food." Maureen sauntered off, clearly flaunting her success in getting him to confess. Before she was all the way out of the room she turned around and said,

"I'm happy for you guys." His heart was hit with a jolt. For so long he'd feared the backlash loving Olivia could cause him, but his grown daughter seemed more at ease with the reality of their relationship than he was.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said pointedly, as he stepped past his daughter to go secure his spot on the sofa next to his partner.

"Your kids are gone," she whispered, as she sat on top of his table, her ankles crossed and swaying. When he heard her suggestive tone, he dropped the dish he was cleaning from the cheesecake that Lizzie had brought for dessert and left his kitchen. He paced towards where she waited for him on the table, taking note that her jeans had been shed. Only her black blouse remained, and it was barely touching the tops of her naked thighs.

"Maureen asked if you're my girlfriend," he said, placing his hands on her folded knees as he came to stand directly in front of her.

"Lizzie asked me if we're dating," she replied, as she gnawed on her bottom lip.

"What did you tell her?"

"That we're very good friends," she smirked.

"Good friends do this?" he teased as he let a hand slide between her legs and spread them out on the width of the table ledge so he could stand between them.

"Sure."

"No…," he said as he leaned in and nipped at the shell of her ear, "I think this is what boyfriends and girlfriends do."

"We're too old to be boyfriend and girlfriend," she laughed lightly as she trapped him within the confines of her legs, her calf muscles pressing into the backs of his thighs. He tipped her back on the hard wood surface as he said,

"Are we too old to have sex on this table?" His fingers began working to undo the buttons on her blouse, revealing a red satin bra that made his blood warm. Before she could answer him, he said "I don't remember seeing this one before," his fingers languidly touching the expensive fabric.

"Special occasion," she clarified as he lifted her shoulders and freed her of the blouse and the bra.

"Thank you for doing this tonight," he whispered as he kissed her sternum. He was trying to tell her that he knew this was a huge step for her, and he knew it couldn't be easy. He was also aware that she was distracting him with sex because she didn't want to discuss the evening and what it meant for their future together. She fit effortlessly with his family, only providing them with more reason to make it permanent- tell Cragen, submit his papers, and spend the rest of their lives eating takeout and not having to hide the way his hands longed to find her when other eyes were around. It was all effortless, all achievable, and he knew that terrified her. Baby steps.

"Thank you for having me."

"Merry Christmas, Liv," he said, the side of his eye catching the stroke of midnight on his microwave clock from across the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas, El," she returned, and then he grabbed her sides and said, "turn around." He flipped her body, bending her over the ledge of the wood. She let out a surprised yelp at his quick change in mood. He pressed her breasts to the surface of the table as his mouth descended on the smooth arch of her back. He licked the length of her until he moved his lips over the curve of her ass, nipping her flesh, and then snagging her thong between his top and bottom teeth, dragging them down her long legs. The room was dark, her olive-toned skin only illuminated by the glow of the Christmas tree lights in his living room.

He grinned wickedly at the sight of his awfully-beautiful partner bent over his table. He stepped out of his jeans and boxers as his fingertips seized her hip bones, pulling them up off of the table as he opened her legs wider.

"Put your hands on the ledge," he instructed, and she listened, stretching her arms up the length of the table as she grabbed the lip at the opposite end.

Then he fucked her firmly and quickly- her whimpers, strings of 'yeses,' and the creaks of the table legs, surely waking his neighbors. When he was done, he reached for her hands, pulling them free from how she was hanging onto the rim with skin-tight knuckles. He took her arms and wrapped them around his neck, in turn causing her body to rotate towards his chest as he scooped her up from the wooden surface and brought her to the softness of his bed, her breaths still heavy in his ear as he kissed her goodnight.

Monday, December 25th, 2006 / 5:00 a.m.

He was waiting for her to wake up. The anticipation was building inside him with each passing minute. He was tempted to shake her awake or kiss her awake. It was Christmas morning and even though he was in his forties, and he saw the worst horrors in the world, he still felt he deserved to feel some magic on Christmas morning. It was his favorite holiday when his kids were little, but Olivia was peacefully sleeping, her eyes in no hurry to wake and oblige his childish excitement. So, he decided to go make them some coffee, in hopes the smell and the noise of him clattering around in his kitchen would inspire her to rise.

He returned some minutes later, the pot brewing as he reentered his bedroom to find her standing with her back to him. She was facing his closet, looking for something to wear on her naked body.

He let his eyes roam, taking in the way she stood completely bare and vulnerable in the safety of his bedroom. He could see the light teeth marks he'd left on her ass from last night. The possessive bites stirred his morning need for her, but he tried to ignore it, instead focusing on how her hair fell in waves against her shoulders, how the usual tensions in her posture were erased as her fingers trailed the fabrics in his closet. He couldn't break his eyes free from how she stood in his room- his woman, his Liv: naked, and gorgeous, and all his, on Christmas morning.

He was looking, and he'd touched, and he never planned to stop. He hoped to always be looking for her and have her turn to seek him out with those deep dark eyes. His demise, the love of his life. He hoped she knew that she was, he hoped one day he could tell her, and she'd believe him fully.

"Liv," he said, and she dropped her fingers away from his dress shirts, her body jolting at the sound of his voice calling out her nickname. "I didn't mean to scare you," he assured as he moved across the distance of his bedroom. She laughed a little at her own reaction.

"You didn't scare me," she said as he circled her waist with one hand, pulling a button-down shirt off a hanger behind her with his other. He released her so he could undo the buttons, and then he quickly tucked the crisp white shirt around her. She complied with him and slipped her arms inside, and then he fastened the front buttons.

"I made us some coffee," he said as he folded the collar and pulled her hair out from underneath it.

"Thanks El, Merry Christmas morning," she said as she stood on her tip toes and pecked him on the lips.

"You wanna go see if anyone brought you anything for Christmas?" he asked as he pulled on her hand, leading her towards the small Christmas tree he'd put up to make his kids happy.

"I think I'm permanently on the naughty list, El," she joked, but it hurt his heart. No one to go to her soccer games, wrap her Christmas presents.

"Check under the tree; I'll go grab the coffee," he said, as he dropped her fingers and watched her walk to his living room. He took some joy in how she dropped to her knees in front of the poorly wrapped boxes he'd placed there while she slept.

He came up behind her and handed her a steaming mug of coffee.

"El," she said, her voice low and surprised as she looked up to him from where she sat in front of the tree. He lowered himself beside her as he said, "what?"

"You did all this?" she questioned as she glanced at the small pile of boxes with her name on the gift tags.

"It's Christmas, Liv. I wasn't going to get you nothing."

"We've never gotten each other anything before," she said as she cleared her throat. He set his mug down beside him before reaching to touch her knee, as he said, "Well, I think this year is a little different."

She rolled her eyes, but the protest gave into a small yet downcast smile. He knew it was hard. He knew she didn't know how to accept these kinds of gestures. He was repeating no expectations like a mantra, over and over in his mind.

"Well, now I feel bad," she said, and he rolled his eyes in response.

"Just open the boxes Olivia; I wasn't expecting anything in return," he clarified as he folded his hands in his lap and waited for her to pick a package. She inhaled, a rebuttal seeming to form on her lips before she exhaled, set down her coffee mug, and reached for a box.

"You wrapped these?" she asked as she assessed his shitty job.

"I tried my best; just…just open it," he urged. She finally tore away at the green and red striped paper, revealing a clothing box. She opened it up and pulled out a purple turtleneck. She was silent as she looked at it. His heart was in his throat, waiting for her to say something.

"You hate it?" he asked, and she broke out laughing.

"El?"

"Yeah?"

"In all the years you've known me, have you ever seen me wear purple?"

"You had that purple suit way back when."

"Okay, well, 2000 was a dark time in fashion, but have you seen me wear purple in the last five years?" she said as she broke out in a string of little laughs that made his cheeks feel warm.

"Okay I tried. Here give it to me, I'll take it back," he said, but she shook her head as she clutched it.

"I love it El, I love it because it's from you," she said as she stood on her knees and leaned towards him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, the turtleneck hitting his back from how she held it as she held him.

"Well, you have four more, one for each day of the week," he said as he sucked hard on her neck, kissing her and nipping until she started murmuring softly, his kisses on her neck never failing to get her to respond to him. "Finish opening first," he said as he practically pushed her off of him. She opened the black one, the blue one, the grey one, and the brown one.

"Well that was five, what's in here?" she asked as she held up the sixth box with a grin on her lips. He nodded for her to open and she did. She pulled out a black teddy with lace trim on the low-cut V-neck. She glanced up to him for an explanation.

"That's what you wear on Saturdays."

"You went into a Nordstrom and bought this?" she questioned with a raised eyebrow, but he watched as she stroked it with her fingers. He thought it was perfect for her. He didn't want to buy her anything raunchy or trashy, just simple and sexy. He could tell by the way she held it that she liked it.

"I was really popular with the Nordstrom salesgirls," he grinned, and she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I'm sure you were."

"Open the last one," he said. She pulled back the paper and revealed his folded grey zip-up hoodie. It was the one he'd kept under her bed while she was in Oregon; it was the one he'd worn while they talked on his stoop after the Senet case; it was the one she always wore when she left his apartment early in the dawn to get back to her apartment and then to work. At the end of each day, he'd let out a resigned sigh when he found it hanging, returned, to his locker. "That's for Sundays," he said.

"Thanks El," she said as she touched the familiar cotton. He watched as her eyes skated across the room, avoiding him. He sipped his coffee, knowing that she needed to absorb this. After some time of sitting around the wrappings she said,

"This was the nicest thing that anyone's…." she began, but she trailed off as she stood to her feet.

"Where are you going?" he questioned, hoping his gestures hadn't sent her running.

"I do have something for you, it's nothing really, just something I saw at the grocery store checkout line, I wasn't even going to bother giving it to you, but…," she explained as she walked to where her purse was sitting on the kitchen table chair. He wasn't sure what to make of that comment. He didn't know if he should expect a lotto ticket or a pack of gum or a lighter, but he sat in confusion, waiting for her to return.

"Liv, I really didn't expect anything," he clarified, hoping this wasn't about that.

"Hold out your hand," she instructed as she walked towards him. He furrowed his brow but extended a hand to her. She took in a big breath, her face nervous like she was about to be sick, and he was growing increasingly more lost. She kneeled to the floor as she opened the hand she had been holding tightly shut. Out dropped a little plastic tree into his awaiting hands. It was the kind of toy tree that kids used in dioramas- the kind his father first used as a reason to hit him.

His heart stilled. His ears pounded.

I wanted to move to Pennsylvania because I loved trees.

Even when he'd believed she'd been shut down and not hearing a word he was saying to her, she'd been listening. He held the little plastic tree in his hand, cupping it and sheltering it. It was a symbol of all his forgotten and melancholic dreams, all his dreams with her. It gave him a sliver of hope that perhaps she shared those desires. She'd said more than he ever could with turtlenecks.

"I want you to put it wherever you want this time," she whispered. His father had hit him for moving the trees on the project. He'd tried so hard to be who Joseph Stabler wanted him to be that he'd shattered and abandoned his own dreams. He kept his eyes downcast so she couldn't see just how much she'd affected him. He was silent, stricken with shock at how unexpected this was.

"I know it's small," she offered, in order to fill the void of his silence. He lifted his eyes and shook his head.

"It's huge," he whispered as he reached for her. She looked to his eyes as she moved towards him. She settled in his embrace, her lips finding his as he caught her in a kiss before laying her down on the floor.

He touched her slow on Christmas morning- the little tree, the clothing, and the coffee forgotten.

He used to fear what his hands could do, what they were capable of, what they could destroy: his locker, his sanity, his family. He used to be afraid he'd murder a perp or become a cliché by touching the woman he worked with. He knew he had a capacity for violence and rage, for unfaithfulness, but Olivia shed light on his shadow. She wasn't afraid of his darkest side, and she'd never reduce herself to his affair when she'd always been much more. Her gaze cut through constructs and saw him for who he was. Trees and forgotten dreams. And he saw her too. Passionate and terrified. He loved her unconditionally, and if she'd let him, he'd love her for the rest of his life. She was his, for better or worse. His partner for life.

His hands touched her under the Christmas tree, holding no doubt that they were right where they were destined to be.

"Their desire was silent yet magnificent, like a thousand daisies attuning their faces towards the path of the sun."

-Jeffrey Eugenides

Last note: Thank you for making it to the end! I wanted to give a HUGE thank you to awildmind and LivEinziger for being such wonderful supporters of my writing and even better pals. This story could not have been complete without Em's amazing beta skills and Liv's sanity checks. Lastly, Merry Christmas!