Chapter 1

The bands getting back together! Fuck it, we ball!

Time heals all wounds

At least that's what they always say

Time is the key to healing but she doesn't feel like the nine years of distance that resides between them has been enough or too much. The week she had waited to finally reach out to him felt like it was too soon. The few weeks he waited to send her that gold medallion seemed like confirmation he needed a little more time, but a reminder he was still hers.

Semper Fi

The problem was she allowed him almost too much time. Weeks continued to pass and turn into months, and then years. She tries to remember when she finally forgot about him and moved on- but this moment reminds her she never really did. No matter how hard she tries to push down and bury those twelve years they shared. Some of the best memories of her life were enriched by him being there, and all be damned if she thinks she can somehow block out that chunk of her life.

You'll be working alongside the captain at Organized Crimes

Who is it?

Elliot Stabler

Whatever air is left within her is completely expelled from her body. The winds been knocked out of her by those two simple words. The movement in the room pauses around her and the sound dissipates. Nothing else mattered in that moment besides trying her best to keep her shit together.

Elliot Stabler

Semper Fi

Those memories she tried so hard to push back suddenly tumbled from her cerebellum, and her vision is filled with him. Only him. Overnight stake outs in the sedan, naps in the cribs, undercover jobs.

My name is Elliot. This is my wife, Olivia

Him saving her. Her saving him. Gitano. Harris. Rojas. Their partnership was always hanging on for dear life because lines were crossed and they didn't care.

I'm detective Benson, this is my partner detective Stabler

Their strides are completely in sync. Words became completely useless when they could communicate silently with just a look.

She hasn't been able to do that with anyone else. No one in her life has come close to the print this man has left on her life- on her heart. He was the longest relationship she had ever had with a man and the statement still stands true.

Today time would come to a halt.

Nine long years of wondering where the hell he was- if he had just completely let her go. They've all gone to shit now. Any minute now he's going to walk in that bullpen and earn a few stares. Maybe a death glare from Fin that's well deserved. And he's going to come straight to her office. They're supposed to do a briefing over the case, but she knows it's going to be far from that.

There won't be a briefing when there's so much baggage between them to unload.

She doesn't even need to look up through those windows of her office to see he's here. The heat of him is almost suffocating.

"Olivia…" she can't will herself to look at him. Her body stands behind her desk, her back facing the door as she looks out onto the city. Kids are walking home from school, cabs drive slow, bicyclists zoom by. She looks on and tries to focus on anything other than him, and wills herself to breathe.

"Liv…" he knows how to get her attention. She straightens her back, broadens her shoulders before turning around. It's an act to appear stronger than she feels. It's three letters that shorten her name down in a way that only he knows how to say it.

When she turns her body completely to face him, the world is silent and the proximity between them just isn't enough. The feeling of him here is all too much for her in an instant. He looks almost exactly the same except older, a lot more gray peppers his cropped hair, those baby blues still pierce into her soul. It's not fair how she easily squirms under his gaze and he's become so steady under hers.

"El- Elliot," the nickname almost rolls off her tongue out of old habits. He continues to stand with hands crossed over his chest that's broader now. He's gained more muscle and he's a lot more chiseled around the edges than she remembers. The ill fitting suits with buttoned up shirts have been lost, and exchanged for something much more tailored. He looks like his life is much more put together- exactly where it needs to be.

"You look- it's good to see you," telling her she's beautiful won't ease the burn of him returning after all these years. Apologizing right off the bat won't make ripping the band aid off any faster. He goes for simple because those few words are all he's got. It is good to see her and he prays some part of her feels the same.

"I wish I could say the same," it rolls off her like water. She's bitter and she doesn't care. He left her and somehow she's expected to act like a wife who's waited for her husband who's gone away at war.

"Christ...Olivia," he steps forwards and grabs the knob of her office door to close it shut. "I'm sor-"

"God, please God don't start the sorry's and give me a list of reasons why you've been gone," the tips of her fingers press into her forehead, shaking her head no. She wants to bite at him already, snap his head off and yell at him for his absence the past nine years. But for once, there's time for her to do that later. "You're here because of a case that's brought us together- that's it," he stands before her with his hands shoved into his pockets. The words sting a lot more than they probably should. He doesn't know what else he possibly could have been expecting. She's resentful towards him, as she should be.

"I deserve that," the hurt in his voice doesn't go unnoticed. "You're right. I am here because of a case, but I could've easily stepped down and made up some conflict of interest maybe- I don't know," his shoulders shrug and his eyes meet her amber brown pools that have glossed over. He knows she's trying her best to put up a front, not cry in front of him. Elliot spent 12 years of his life vowing to kill any man that hurt her, and he never once thought he would be on that list of men to do so. "But I'm here and I want to make things right between us."

"It feels a little late for that, don't you think?"

"Nothing with us is ever too late," they're at a standstill with one another. His words are insinuating a world of forbidden feelings they were never ever allowed to bring up- to acknowledge. It's always been there between them. An unspoken shorthand, understanding that this was more than just partnership between them. It was just as much now as it was back then.

"You left without telling me a goddamn thing, not a single word from you Elliot," her voice betrays her and cracks under the burning in her throat from holding back the tears welling in her eyes. She hasn't shed a single tear over him in years and it took him coming into her office for five minutes to bring those feelings back all over again. "I've spent almost the last decade of my life wondering what the hell it is that I did to make you throw away our 12 years together?" The words sting his core and he wishes the distance between them wasn't a requirement. His hands twitch at his sides, resisting the urge to reach out to her. She was the last thing on this earth to make him walk away from the job- from her. It was all to blame on his demons he fought, the false sense of reality he had deemed his life.

"Me walking away had nothing and everything to do with you," he steps forward and now only her desk stands between them. He's got a better view of her now. The years have aged her just as much as they have him, but they've been a helluva lot kinder towards her. She parts her hair differently now, it's a lot lighter than it used to be and there isn't a straight piece in sight. There's a slight curl to it and it falls past her shoulders, framing her face. The layered tops and turtleneck sweaters are long forgotten. She sports soft colorful blouses now, with perfectly fit black slacks and boots. Her Captain's shield is at her side, but he still sees a bit of Detective Benson still there with her.

"The hell does that mean?"

"The shooting, Liv- I wasn't the same after it," he gambled and took a seat across from where she still stood. She's still attempting to keep the wall up. The bricks she's laid strategically to keep him out, are slowly deteriorating. "No scripture reading, confession, or prayer could've helped me. I was in a dark place and I wasn't gonna drag you down with me. You didn't deserve that," his elbows rest on his thighs, his hands clasp in front of him. He knows if he undoes them they're probably trembling. It's always been too much between them- even now. Almost twenty years total of pushing back, their truths and desires are bubbling up to the surface in this very moment.

"I deserved a call, a text- hell a damn letter, anything," she's hanging on by a thread. There's no way in hell she's crying in front of him. So many tears have been lost to him already. She's stronger now than she was before.

"I sent you the medal, I know you got it…" she laughs bitterly, not even a hint of a smile reaches her face. She took a seat and pushed both her hands through her hair. Olivia's counting…

1 2 3..

It's not working. Her blood's boiling, her hands ache to grab a hold of the gun clipped to her side. She wants to release the clip of her glock-22 at a paper target and regain some part of herself that she's slowly losing in this battle with him.

"Was that supposed to be some sort of saving grace for me? Make up for you leaving all these years?" She's back on her feet. The distance they've slowly closed in on is already too much. His pacific blues darken, reflecting the hurricane pooling inside of him. He did this. He's hurt her far worse than she ever could to him. It's hard to look up at her. He can't answer her. His jaw tightens along with his chest.

"No- not at all…" he finally meets her eyes. She's let a few tears slip away and she's quick to flick them away. He can't take it anymore and all be damned if it's too much too soon. Elliot is out of his seat and paces slowly over to her to test the waters. She's unmoving, watching him closely and seeing exactly where he's going. He's in front of her with solemn eyes that read almost too deeply into her still after all these years. He pulls her in then, envelopes her in his arms loosely and gives her a chance to back away if she wants. She's solid in his arms for seconds until she finally falters and wraps her own arms around him. He holds her tight then and he feels her breathe on him with a heavy exhale.

"I'm so fucking sorry," he rasps into her hair. It's not like them, even beforehand, to ever embrace like this. But it feels good- organic, and necessary. He's real, he's here. There's a nine year gap that he's looking to somehow fill- compensate for.

The issue is she doesn't know if she's going to even let him try.