That was three days ago. Olivia's been thinking about it way more than she cares to admit. More than just the three days, all the way back to when he first mumbled it in the middle of sex. Elliot hasn't truly asked her any of those times, and she understands now that he won't because he believes she'll say no.

Olivia isn't sure when exactly, but somewhere along the line she'd given up on the idea of ever getting married. Even when she'd been in a few longer-term relationships in her 30s and 40s, even when she and Elliot went on their first real date 15 months ago, she didn't think it possible for her.

The idea of marriage doesn't scare her as much as Elliot believes it does, it's that it's foreign to her. What scares her more, is him believing that she might leave. That he thinks that for her, this relationship with him is exactly the same as the string of men who have been in and out of her love life since she started dating as a teenager. That one day she'll easily walk away if she's annoyed enough with him. No, she's going to need to correct that very wrong misconception, and soon. And she's got to stop tossing the 10-year absence at him when she's hurt or scared, as a defection. It's doing both of them no good when they both know she's long forgiven him for it.

But then what does she say after that? Where does that lead them after she's convinced him that she never wants anyone else, ever, just him for the rest of her life? The next obvious question is going to be about getting married. Or not, maybe they just commit to each other and never get around to letting the government know. She could do that. They could formally move in together; it wouldn't change much since they already spend nearly every night together whenever work doesn't get in the way. But is that enough, a combined household and a quiet agreement of fidelity between them?

Olivia's sure that it's not enough for Elliot. But she better figure out what she wants, because obviously they need to talk about this. But first, at least they should get back to being on more solid ground.

I'm sorry we argued. I was tired and shouldn't have said the things I said. Can we talk?

Olivia hits send on the text, and his reply is immediate.

Yes of course. I'm sorry too.

Then of course work gets in the way, for almost a week Olivia and her squad work overtime to catch what started as a single rape case, but they now realize is a serial rapist. She's home every night but it's very late, followed by heading out of the apartment very early the next morning and it leaves no time for talking about serious topics. She's at her desk, overtired and achy, wanting nothing more than to kiss her kid goodnight while he's still awake, and not hours after he's out like a light as it's been all week. Then climb into bed with Elliot, and actually be not so completely exhausted that sex is off the table. She misses the way he touches her.

It's all that she wants, all that is needed to make her happy in this moment.

It doesn't escape her that she knows exactly what being married to Elliot would be like, coming home to him each night. It's not only the way he treasures her, has fallen for Noah and cares for him too, it's the sick irony that she knows exactly what that level of commitment means to Elliot. Marriage means moving across an ocean if he has to.

Fin ducks his head into her office. "We tracked him down."

"Then let's go."

Two days later, she and Noah drive to Elliot's place after dance class. The three of them have dinner together, haggle only slightly over homework, and she finally reads with her son at bedtime for the first time in too long. Gets to kiss him goodnight and sneak in a little snuggle that he's starting to get too old for, but she'll still take what she can get.

"He's asleep?" Elliot asks as she re-appears in his kitchen.

She answers, "He's still reading but his eyelids are nearly closed, so it's probably a matter of minutes."

Elliot nods. The fight is over and forgiven, but things still feel vaguely tense between them. Plus, her stress this week has been through the roof, and she's not handled it as well as usual. Olivia knows they need to talk, but god, she really wants to skip any drama, or tricky feelings, and get right to them being on the same page. Can she get there as fast as possible? Settled, in it together, forever. It's these thoughts, tripping her up, that cause her to scrap the whole grand declaration speech she's been practicing in her head. The simple truth of what she wants sort of tumbles out.

"I'll wear a ring but I'm not changing my name."

His eyebrows shoot up, he sets down the glass of whiskey that was midair heading toward his lips for a sip. A small smile begins to appear on those lips when the initial shock of what she's just said wears off. "Can I buy you a diamond?"

"Nope, just plain. I don't want to attract any extra attention to it, especially at work, so nothing that sparkles." She glances down, "I could use one of those," indicating his drink.

"OK," he says, sounding like he's weighing how he feels about this compromise. He fumbles around fixing her a drink, slides it across the kitchen island to her. "Then can I at least buy you diamond earrings that you wear on our wedding day, and on our anniversary every year, and any time on special occasions?" She must go visibly soft in the middle of his question, because he comes to her then, circling the island, pulling her into his arms.

"And the bands need to be platinum." She says, worried about this part, or more like his reaction to her insisting on this detail.

"As in both our bands?"

"Yes."

"Ah." He hugs her a little tighter. He must get it without saying it. She can't kiss him, love him, slip a ring on his finger during a ceremony that is a gold wedding band. She can't make love to him with a gold ring on. It must be different. He whispers into her ear. "I understand. Platinum it is."

"I know you'll want to do it in a church, but I don't want anything big, just the courthouse."

"How about just the priest, us, the kids, and mom, in a church. But we can do the 20 minute short version, not a full mass, on a Friday afternoon."

"El—"

"I want you to walk down an aisle toward me..." He's still holding her head tucked into his shoulder, but she doesn't have to look at him to know that he's struggling with the tears. He pulls back, locks eyes with her. "I'm doing it this time because I want to, not because I should. And I want to see you walk down an aisle in a white dress, and I want to make my vow to you before God and our family. Please, Liv."

"OK." Because how can she not give into that? Even if it's more than she needs. "Maybe just a small party afterwards at a bar? We can invite a few friends to celebrate. But small, Elliot. If you start blowing this out into something big then I'll—"

"Small is good. As long as I have you forever." He leans in to kiss her finally, thoroughly.

Olivia is starting to get lost in it, before she remembers there's one last thing to talk about. She breaks the kiss. "But first thing first. You have to ask for Noah's permission."

He grins. "I already did."

"What? When?"

"Ages ago. Well, I should clarify, technically he wanted to know when I was going to ask you to marry me. He wanted me to do it as soon as possible. I said, whenever I finally wear her down and convince her."

"Technically, you haven't asked."

"I thought we just worked out all the details?"

"On your knees, Stabler." At the twinkle in his eyes, she rolls her own, "Not for that."

So, he goes down on one knee and asks her for the fifth time, this time official. "Olivia Benson, will you marry me?"