Terrance Reynolds was dead. And so was a rookie cop. No matter who was wrong, there were no rights. Not today. Barba had called her on the carpet, forcing her to toe the line between procedure and negligence. Sometimes "by the book" wasn't enough because, sometimes, the book was wrong. And in her first weeks as a lieutenant, she'd already had to search her soul. The answers weren't there. She wondered if, in the epidemic of cops shooting young black men, answers were anywhere.

Quite frankly her head and her heart couldn't take anymore today. And for the first time since Judge Linden had changed her world forever, she wasn't sure going home to Noah was enough. Dusk had taken over the city outside the 16th Precinct, yet Olivia lacked the energy to even rise from her desk chair and call it a day, as the rest of her squad had done at her behest. She pulled her glasses from her head and plopped them on the desk in front of her, sighing deeply before she swiped her cell phone to life. Her fingers moved slowly as she typed a text message.

Hey. You busy?

She hit send then sunk back in her chair to wait for a reply. She wasn't sure where she stood with Elliot these days, since his hasty departure from her apartment. Strangely enough, for the first time since he'd wedged his way back into her life, he hadn't responded immediately to an attempt by her to reach him. In fact, he'd done most of the reaching out to this point. But not recently and not tonight. She chalked it up to the kind of day she was having. If any damned thing went right today it'd be the first.

Finally she rose, grabbed her things, killed the lights and headed for the elevator. She pulled her cell from her coat pocket and checked one more time for a return text while she waited. Still nothing. After months of repeatedly texting and calling him - all with no reply - following his departure from the job and her life, she silently vowed to never chase him or anyone else again. But tonight, for a reason she chose not to label, she needed something, and she was certain it was him. So as the elevator car announced its arrival with a hollow ding, she made another attempt at reaching him. This time she called, and this time he answered.

"Hey Liv," he said, sounding slightly out of breath. "Just got out of the shower and saw your text."

Her eyes slipped shut in relief. She wasn't proud of herself for being so needy but still, "Are you ... uh ..."

"Dropped Eli at Kathy's on the way home. So, no, I'm not busy. Wanna get some dinner?"

"I need your help," she hesitated. "But I don't feel like going out tonight."

"Alright then. I can come over."

She was quiet while she considered the current state of her apartment. It wasn't the clutter of baby paraphernalia that made her hesitate. It was the baby himself. "Would you mind … I mean if it's not a problem … could I come to your place?"

Elliot was surprised at her request but perfectly willing to oblige it. "Yeah, sure, that's fine. But I didn't cook tonight so ..."

She wasn't interested in excuses or disclaimers. "Elliot," she was firm, "just give me the address."

He did, and after turning her wrist over to check her watch, she abruptly ended the call with "I'll be there in 40 minutes."

Elliot stood drip-drying on his hardwood floor staring at his phone as the screen dimmed to dark. Olivia had never been to his place in Brooklyn, and he hadn't heard her sound this way in a long time. It wasn't the seemingly strong Olivia he'd come to know in recent weeks, the one who told him they couldn't be more than they were. Ironically since she'd allowed him back into her world, he hadn't invited her into his. There was no time like the present.

He hustled to the bedroom and threw on jeans and a clean T-shirt. Then he made a hurried pass around the apartment, tossing Eli's scattered toys into a corner basket, loading the dishwasher, and quickly tidying the bathroom, wiping away the steam from his shower. He put a few beers into the fridge to cool then sunk into the sofa and switched on the evening news while he talked himself out of building Olivia's impromptu visit into anything more than it was.

When he'd answered the phone with one hand while holding his bath towel around his waist with the other, he'd felt a little twinge of guilt. For it was mere moments earlier that he'd been thinking of her as the warm water pounded his body. He'd pressed his left palm against the shower wall and grasped himself with his right as he relived what little had happened on her desk and imagined all that hadn't and maybe never would. It didn't take long really. It never did. So when he'd rushed to answer the phone and saw her name on the digital display, he was flooded momentarily by the irrational fear that she'd read his mind.

As the evening news offered the horrid developing details of the shooting death of a rookie NYPD patrolman, he sighed heavily and let his head lull back against the couch cushion. He'd only just closed his eyes when the buzzer rang. He knew it was ridiculous that the sound signaling her arrival should flood his body with adrenaline, but he couldn't keep it from happening.

He shuffled barefoot to the buzzer then opened the door to await the moment she'd inevitably step off the elevator and make his heart pound even harder. His anticipation was replaced with concern the moment he saw her. She was still the smoldering brunette with the smoky eyes and ample curves. But she looked so tired, so damned defeated. She no sooner crossed the threshold than she stepped right into his embrace and laid her head on his shoulder. She'd moved with no calculation but instead with a kind of desperation that made him sure the 13 miles and 40 minutes it had taken her to get here must have been hell.

"Jesus Liv," he whispered, laying a palm on her head and relaxing his body so she could fit into all his nooks and crannies.

"I need your help," he heard her mutter against his chest.

"Alright," he said stepping back from the door, pulling her with him then extending a foot to kick the door closed. "Tell me what's wrong."

She pressed her palms into his chest and pushed herself slightly away from him, enough that she could look him in the eye. She fingered the V-neck on his T-shirt as she spoke. "You've seen what's going on right?" He followed the motion of her hand toward the TV.

"Yeah, it's awful," he said, gently tugging at her elbow and steering her toward the couch to sit down. "You want something, maybe a beer?"

A beer actually sounded great right now so she accepted his offer. He glanced back at her as he made his way into the kitchen and retrieved the beers. "What happened with the grand jury yesterday?" he asked. He already knew they'd elected to indict three officers in the Reynolds shooting, but he was more concerned with how her testimony had gone.

She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees and used a thumb and forefinger to knead her temple and stave off an impending tension headache she was sure would split her in two. "It was bad," she said, taking her uncapped beer from him and taking a swig. "Barba did his job, but I had to do mine."

"We've seen a lot of bad things on this job," she continued, and he nodded in agreement. "But I can't remember feeling so torn as with this case."

"How so?" He encouraged her to keep talking, to let it out.

"With rape or abuse, it's easy to define what's right and wrong," she explained. "But with Reynolds and now this young cop," she said, swiping the remote off his coffee table and taking the liberty of turning off his TV, "it's not so easy to choose sides."

He studied her face. "And this time you're supposed to be on one side, but the other side has a point too? This thing that seems to be so much about black and white is anything but?"

She smiled slightly at him, at his ability to read her. "Pretty much," she said quietly, then took a quick drink before setting her bottle on the table.

He reached over and tucked a few strands of her longer hair behind her ear. "So tell me, how can I help?

She couldn't look at him right now, at least until she collected her thoughts, so she let her eyes wander around the room, at his comfortable surroundings and the life he'd made for himself without the feminine touch of the wife he no longer had. She knew what she was going to say and had every intention of saying it. But it wasn't easy for her to relinquish her final shreds of denial and offer up what she'd been so carefully coveting.

She slapped her thighs with her palms as she rose to a standing position over him, removed her coat and laid it over the armchair next to the couch. She tucked her fingers into her pockets and eyed the floor as she paced a small circle near him. "This isn't exactly ... uh ... how I envisioned this happening," she began. "I mean not that envisioning it is a habit of mine."

Elliot swallowed hard as he watched her pace, his arms spread out on either side of him along the back of the couch.

"But if the things you told me are true …" she continued, finally stopping her semi-circle, turning to face him, and getting to the point. "Do you still want me?"

He nearly laughed out loud. It may have been the most unnecessary question he'd ever heard. "Yeah, Liv," he said calmly, tapping his hands on the couch. "Yeah, I still want you."

He rose from the couch then and edged a little closer to her. "But what's changed?"

She froze a little because playing it out in her mind was a lot easier than seeing him step toward her in reality. But she pressed forward. She promised herself she would. "Elliot, I need to feel something. Anything that isn't this case."

Elliot stepped to her, captured her face in his palms and smothered her lips with his, swallowing the additional words she didn't need to say. She'd come this far but really she needed him to make the final step and seal the deal. It was with great relief that she pulled her fingers from her pockets and wrapped them around the back of his head and expelled a deep breath against his mouth. His lips were urgent, and when he swept his tongue into her mouth, she was sure it was his attempt to reach in and scoop out her worry and pain.

She moaned and hummed against his mouth as she felt the fight leave her. The fight she'd put up when he'd come to the squad, when dinner at her apartment could have turned into breakfast, when a revealing conversation in her office threatened to turn into sex on her desk.

He pulled his mouth from hers momentarily, breathing heavily as he used his palms to push her hair away from her face so he could see her, really see her. What he saw was a weary body with hungry eyes. "Olivia," he said pecking her lips, "you really want ..."

"I need you," she said, punctuating her tone by pressing her eyes shut. "Please. Make me feel something else."

He reached down, took her hand and began to step past her to lead her down the hallway. She stayed firmly in place, tugging back on his hand. She nodded her head toward the sofa. "Do you … uh …, she began, her eyes scanning back and forth between his. "Do you think we could maybe stay out here? I can't stay long anyway."

She was right. This wasn't how he'd envisioned it. All those years before … and now these weeks since … and it seemed so damned anticlimactic to have her this way. But the last thing she needed was a fight over venue. That's not why she'd come here tonight.

So he softened his gaze and nearly whispered, "We can do anything you want, Liv, wherever you want."

She sat back down at the center of the sofa then slowly sank back into one corner, pulling him down toward her as she reclined. "Ouch," she muttered, reaching behind her and retrieving a Captain America action figure from between the cushions. They both chuckled as she tossed it into the coffee table. "Sorry about that," Elliot offered.

He locked the fingers of one hand with hers and used the other to brace his weight as he descended over her. Her hair splayed on the arm of the couch, and she gazed up at him as if his descending form was a blanket settling over her shivering body. Maybe it was supposed to be this way, her mind so mired that she didn't have time to contemplate, choreograph or complicate being with him. With one leg bent at the knee and the other hanging partway off the couch, she provided him a place to settle as he pressed his mouth back over hers and kissed her gently this time. She was nearly desperate though, as she overwhelmed his tender kiss with a hungry one. It was in that moment that he knew tonight she wouldn't be giving. Tonight she was taking. And he would give her what she needed.

She felt his weight settle onto her and felt her body begin to react to his proximity. Her nipples peaked below the blouse he'd just begun to unbutton. She kissed his forehead as he looked down to guide his fingers to each button. The silk blend finally fell open at the sides of her torso, revealing her heaving chest and biege lace bra. The sight of her olive skin beckoned him as he laid opened mouthed kisses along her neck, over her collarbone and down into the valley between her breasts.

Her fingertips came together on the front clasp of her bra, and she stared at him as she released the clasp and pulled the cups away to reveal her mounds. He didn't look down immediately, but when he did, a wide predatory smile consumed his lips. He tugged her badge off her belt and tossed it onto the coffee table with Captain America and the remote. Then he rose up and dragged his hands to the back of his collar and pulled his T-shirt over his head. There, now they were even.

He wanted to feel her breasts, not only with his hands, but pressed up against his chest. He didn't need to study her to know she was beautiful. Her ample mounds pressed against him and two peaked nipples raking through his patch of chest hair told him all he needed to know.

He pecked her lips then finally dropped his head to her chest, licking his way over her left nipple and rolling his eyes upward to see her face. Her eyes were closed, and she was writhing already. She scraped her nails through his short cropped hair as he crossed over and lapped at her right nipple then sunk lower on her torso, beginning to kiss his way down her abs. As he moved lower he continued to look up at her. As his vantage point dropped, his view improved, her round breasts now hovering over him. He was grateful that he'd taken the edge off earlier in the shower. Otherwise this sight alone would have finished him.

As he moved over her body, she finally began to feel, really feel something more than the turmoil and tension of recent days. But she needed him to move faster and give her more. Before she could tell him so, he undid the button on her slacks and slid down the zipper. He struggled to believe he'd been granted such access and opened his mouth to confirm it. But he didn't need to.

"Don't stop," she breathed at him.

As he locked his fingers into both sides of her waistband and rose up on his knees, he saw the smooth skin of her lower abdomen come into view, followed quickly by the sheen of her matching beige silk underwear. She pushed and he pulled to bring her slacks down her legs. While he focused on removing her boots so he could get her pants completely off, she skimmed her fingertips through the short hairs along his stomach to reach the button on his jeans. She lowered the zipper just before he settled back over her. He shifted his weight slightly to the right and back of the sofa as he enveloped her right breast in his palm, thumbing at her nipple and grinding his pelvis against her bare thigh.

She could feel him through the denim, a prospect she hadn't felt in the nearly two years since she'd split with Brian. Two years wasn't that long really, considering longer periods of celibacy had marked her partnership with Elliot, because of Elliot. And it certainly didn't seem that long when she knew he had waited much longer.

She was about to urge him along again, let him know he was moving too slow, when she finally felt him press the first three fingers of his left hand over her panties and begin to rub her. This was the touch she'd waited those 40 minutes for, the touch she'd waited years for. She didn't want to think about the case or about how much time had passed since she'd first developed feelings for Elliot. She didn't want to mark each monumental movement in memory. Not tonight. She arched up slightly under him and began to push her own underwear down. He was taken aback by her urgency. He wanted to discover her slowly, but she wasn't having it.

"Hang on, Liv," he protested. "We'll get there."

"I don't want to wait," she said firmly.

He pulled her underwear from her ankles and shifted his body lower between her legs, ready to taste her, to please her. Again she stopped him.

"That's not what I need tonight," she said, pressing against his shoulders before his mouth made contact.

He sighed deeply, almost in frustration, then rose to a seated position on the couch, her legs falling across his lap. She was sure she'd offended him.

"El, I'm sorry," she said, beginning to sit up and reunite her body with his.

"Shhh," he said, pressing two fingertips to her lips to quiet her. "Then tell me. Tell me what you need."

She leaned in and kissed him then whispered against his mouth. "I need to feel you. All of you."

He rose up slightly then and tugged his open jeans and briefs down his hips and thighs until they were bunched just above his knees. Like him, she chose not to look down immediately, although she couldn't help but see him bob free in her periphery. He wrapped one arm around her hip and his other behind her other knee and pulled her toward him. She settled over him in a straddling position and rested her wrists on his shoulders. He took her hand in his and brought it to his pelvis, encouraging her to wrap her fingers around him. He watched her fingers move a moment then returned his palms to her face and kissed her.

"Take what you need, Liv. Whatever you need."

If she gave the moment the consideration it deserved she might rethink it. She might ponder all the reasons she shouldn't be here, be nearly naked, be with him. So she didn't. She grasped him in her right hand and moved her hips over him. She pressed her left hand into his shoulder to brace herself as she settled over his tip.

He'd do this and the rest of it her way, but he demanded one thing. "Look at me, Olivia."

She opened her eyes and met his momentarily before she lowered her weight and let him slip inside her for the first time. She trembled at the intrusion, her body finally wracked with a different feeling than it had been for days. As every smooth centimeter of her slid over him, he flexed his abs and committed every nuance of her face to memory. When she settled all the way onto him, she couldn't hold his gaze any longer. Her eyes slammed shut as she allowed herself a mere moment's revelry that Elliot was finally inside her. She needed him to take up the space inside her, to snuff out the pressure, the tension, the politics, the pain.

He didn't get to ask her if she was okay before she started moving slowly over him. She began by rolling her hips at first, nestling him even more firmly into place. The thought that he belonged there swept through her head, but she refused to let it linger. Instead she grasped his strong shoulders with both palms and used his body as leverage to move her own. She moaned as she began to rise and fall on him. He let her move, let her set the pace, let her decide. Her world was raging out of control, but at least he could give her this.

He was determined to make this about her. Not about him, not even about them. But he had to take a little something for himself so he lowered his mouth and suckled and licked at her breasts bobbing before him, throwing his eyes upward to see her face as he did. It made her moan louder, made her move faster. He hadn't moved much to this point, merely grasping at her hips and letting her do the work. He wanted to give her what she needed and he knew damned well that she was the best person to decide what that was.

She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him, her body tight against his. She shuddered some and, while he first thought it was in pleasure, her staccato breaths in his ear told him she was crying. He tensed immediately and pulled her face from his shoulder so he could see her. "Am I hurting you? What's wrong?"

"No please don't stop," she told him, then collapsed back against him. "Help me, Elliot. Help me get there."

She was tired, exhausted, spent, but still hanging in mid air. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and lifted her slightly. Then he began to thrust upwards, to drive up into her for the first time. She yelped in his arms but gripped him tighter.

"Oh God yes, like that," she told him.

He pulled her face down to his and began a punishing pace with his hips. His efforts seemed to re-energize her as she began to rise and fall again, coming down onto him as he pressed up into her. He grasped her hips and swung her body away from his slightly. She dropped her hands from his shoulders and braced them behind her on his knees. She arched backwards, her breasts swaying before him as he bucked upwards. This angle was different, and she could feel him rubbing along her front wall, the sensation building with each pass. He curved his palms over her thighs and brought the pads of both thumbs to her folds, watching as he disappeared into her wetness.

Her head darted upward and her eyes went wide as his thumbs pressed against her bundle of nerves. She wasn't sure how he knew what to do to her body, but he knew. The look on her face and the sounds falling from her mouth told him he'd made the right move. He began moving the pads of both thumbs in opposing circles, and he could feel her begin to tighten around him.

"It's all good, Liv" her told her. "I've got you." Her eyes slammed shut and she stilled, almost unable to move as the sensation consumed her. He took over then, keeping the pace with his hips and his thumbs as she cried out above him. She didn't form words then, only moans as she shuddered. A smile spread across his face as he watched her tremble in his arms, his cock sliding in and out of her wetness. He circled his thumbs more quickly to draw it out for her, stealing his eyes away from her face momentarily to suck a nipple into his mouth. She shuddered hard again then fell forward against him.

He was still then, still inside her, letting her have the moment. When she finally opened her eyes and met his, he spoke.

"Good?" he asked, still smiling at the expression on her face.

"Good," she offered breathlessly from behind sleepy sated eyes.

"Okay then," he warned. "Hang on."

He'd wanted to give her complete control. And now that she'd taken some satisfaction from his body, he wanted a moment of his own. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and went for a brief ride as he rose, turned them, and laid her back down on the couch under him. He pushed his pants and underwear completely off, then braced himself on his hands at either side of her head as he awkwardly asked, "Where should I ... I mean ... should I?"

She gazed at him, her fingertips caressing his ears when she answered. "I want to feel everything."

He grumbled at her request, her piercing gaze, her low sultry voice and her body all around him. Then he pushed into her again, and she gasped at his reentry. He rolled his own hips now, not thrusting quickly but deeply. She was sensitive from her orgasm and felt the subtle aftershocks as his head thumped against her cervix.

"It's so good," she cooed.

He couldn't argue. He was sure there couldn't be much better than this, than her. He drank her in, around him, under him. He pushed through her twice more before his orgasm grabbed hold and he stilled inside her, grunting as he came. Her eyes slipped closed as she felt the vaguely familiar warmth inside her.

He was spent. She huffed underneath him, trying to catch her own breath. He pushed into his palms again and lifted his upper body off of her. Her fingertips danced along his rib cage.

"You okay?" he breathed.

She only smiled, but as he looked down at her the smile widened and reached into her eyes. He couldn't help but smile back. He slipped slowly out of her body and returned to a seated position on the couch. He pulled her up and against him. The moment was surreal. Plenty of times he'd imagined having sex with Olivia. But he hadn't imagined far enough ahead to the moment after he'd had sex with Olivia and held her nearly naked body against his. That's the moment he was living in.

For a while they just breathed. There wasn't much to say or much that could be said that was worthy of the moment. He didn't want to say the wrong thing so he decided to say nothing at all until she spoke. He was quietly affectionate, holding her close and stroking her hair. He could feel her breathing settle and slow so he knew he would soon get some indication of her mindset.

Her body was warm and her eyes tired. She was satisfied and terrified all at once. She was smart enough to know – reminding herself even on the way across the bridge –that this wouldn't be just sex or merely a physical interlude. But dammit she wished that's all it was. It's why she'd kept it on the couch and why she'd refused to utter his name when she shook in his arms.

She wasn't sure how to extract herself from the situation. And she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to. But something inside her told her she should. Then she thought of Noah.

"El, I haven't seen Noah all day so ..."

"I get it, Liv. Motherhood calls." He squeezed her shoulder and pressed a firm, loving kiss to her forehead. When he released his grasp, she tried to be as tasteful as possible about gathering her clothing. She tossed his jeans and boxers to him and he put them on, zippered them but didn't bother to fasten the button.

As she tucked in her blouse and slipped her feet into her shoes, he had to ask a question that was nagging at him.

"Uh ... Liv?"

She turned to him but kept at reattaching her badge to her belt. She was fixing to make a quick exit.

He stepped close to her, his bare chest and unbuttoned jeans flooding her line of sight. Maybe he was oblivious or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing.

"This is an awkward question," he began, rubbing his hand along the back of his head in discomfort. "But ... uh ... not using anything ... that's gonna be okay?"

Her face softened when she heard his question. She found his concern endearing. She stepped up and placed her hands on his bare shoulders, giving him a sad smile. "Unfortunately El, that ship has sailed." Then she softly kissed his lips but didn't let it linger long. "Thank you for tonight." Then she grabbed her phone, her bag and went directly toward the door.

"Hey," he called after her.

She paused, her hand on the doorknob. She turned to see him smiling softly at her.

"Goodnight," he said.

She smiled, nodded, and through a throat choked by tears, whispered goodnight back to him. Then she was gone.