Turns out that the Zachary Scott case wasn't a complete waste of time. Also turns out that there was still a lot of cop left inside Elliot Stabler. It didn't surprise him that Olivia hadn't given him the courtesy of calling herself to tell him about the outcome, but he did get the information by following up with Carisi. Although there had been no actual abuse, Elliot used the case as a forum by which to urge the New York City School Board to pilot a training program for counselors on how to deal with similar disclosures. It was a cause into which he could channel his emotions and his free time now that Olivia was occupying none of it.

The program was still in its infancy, but he'd been invited to speak before the school board tonight. He had no problem speaking passionately about creating a safe atmosphere for kids to discuss their problems and disclose abuse. Badge or no badge, he'd never quit fighting for kids. He felt good about the night, so he rewarded himself with a beer. He striped off his dress shirt and shoes and retired to the couch in his black dress pants and undershirt with a cold bottle of Blue Moon in his grasp. Things weren't looking good for the Mets, and he felt compelled to let them know by yelling at the TV. The sounds of him giving Daniel Murphy a piece of his mind echoed into the hallway. It's how Olivia knew he was home before she even had a chance to knock on his apartment door.

He didn't hear the first knock through his own yelling. But the second one got his attention. And with his team down two games to one in the series, he wasn't interested in hearing a neighbor bitch at him about the noise. He swung the door open ready for an argument. His approach didn't change much when he saw Olivia standing there instead.

He didn't open the door the whole way, and he seemed to guard the limited opening there was by bracing his arm across it. If she wanted to enter, she'd have to duck under his arm to do it. And by the look on his face, she had no intention of doing so unless she was invited. She didn't expect him to be happy to see her, but she also didn't expect the absolutely frigid reception. He just stood there staring at her, breaking his gaze only to bring his beer to his lips with the hand that wasn't holding the door.

She considered sincerity, then confrontation. In the end she settled on sarcasm. "Don't worry, I'm not here for sex."

He smiled smugly at her, then dropped his arm and stepped aside so she could enter.

She walked a few paces into the apartment before she heard him close the door behind her. He followed her into the living room, grabbed the remote and muted the baseball game. "Something I can do for you?"

She turned to him, wringing her own hands nervously in front of her. "I was … uh … hoping we could talk."

He smirked. "Oh you were, were ya? I'm kinda busy so …"

"Elliot, please," she said. "Just give me a few minutes and I'll leave you be."

He nodded and took a seat on his armchair, dangling his beer bottle between his open legs. "So again, what can I do for you?"

"Well first I'd like a beer."

He took another swig, eyeing her over the bottle, then set his beer on the coffee table and padded into the kitchen to grab two fresh bottles. As he made his way back, he noted that by the way she was removing her coat, she obviously assumed she could stay a while.

She stood to receive her beer from him. "So I hear you're doing good things with the school board," she said, extending a meager olive branch.

"Yeah, I guess you would have heard that … from Carisi."

Fair enough.

"They seem pretty receptive," he couldn't resist. "I guess they don't see me as a threat."

Maybe it was the beer, or maybe it was the Mets. No matter, he was downright salty tonight and she'd wandered into the eye of the storm.

"Yeah … about that," she attempted.

His ears perked up. He couldn't wait to hear what she had to say, and he had no intention of making it easy on her.

"I said some things that maybe I shouldn't have," she offered.

"I figure you wouldn't have said them if you weren't thinking them," he countered.

"I'm not sure what I was thinking," she said softly. "Or maybe I was thinking too much."

He snickered some. "Yeah, wouldn't be the first time for that."

She could see his muscles flex beneath his white V-neck undershirt every time he lifted his arm to take another drink. The sleeve on right arm bunched up just enough so she could see his large Jesus tattoo peeking from beneath it. When they'd been together that night – that one night weeks ago – she hadn't taken time to explore him, to touch him in all the places she'd wanted to over the years. She hoped that after she said her peace tonight, she'd get a chance to do that. To do it all the right way.

He waited while she studied him. He saw her looking, and he saw her squirming inside her own skin as she fought to utter every word. It was cruel of him, but she'd dismissed him so easily and now he was holding a grudge.

"Elliot you told me you were a work in progress," she began. "And while I've come a long way in the last couple of years, I still have a ways to go myself."

He took another swig then threw her a bone. "I imagine you do. You've been through a lot."

"I'm not trying to use those things as an excuse for my behavior," she continued. "But they do have something to do with why I calculate every …"

"I get it, Liv. You overthink," he said impatiently. "Now tell me why you're here."

He was digging in his heels, so she took a deep breath and pressed on.

"I ... we ... Noah and I ... we miss you." She was fighting fire with fire, going right for his heart strings.

"I'm not gonna lie, Olivia," he said, motioning toward her with his beer bottle. "I miss you too. But you told me there was no place for me in your world."

She moved to the edge of the couch nearest to him, removed the beer bottle from his fingers and set it on the coffee table. He looked at her, making note of her increasing courage.

"Elliot," she said, placing a palm on his knee. His eyes dropped immediately to her hand then rose again to her eyes. "Like you said, sorry has to be enough. So I'm here to tell you I'm sorry."

He looked down at her hand on his knee again and breathed through a long silence. "Okay," he said.

"Okay?" she questioned.

"Yeah, okay. I accept your apology. I don't know what else you want me to say or what you're asking of me."

That was fair. There was more she needed to explain. She needed to be specific and thorough with him.

"How is he?" he asked. "Noah I mean."

She smiled at his inquiry. "He's doing really well, talking, doing so much."

Elliot smiled. He remembered the toddler years with his own children and could only imagine what Noah was into these days.

"And I'd like you to be part of that," she said.

He wasn't sure if he could visit Noah, see Olivia and leave it at that. Not after what they'd shared. Not after that night.

"Look, Liv, I'd like to see him, but I can't come and go and not .."

"And I'd like you to be part of my life too," she said, smiling hopefully at him. "A big part of it."

When he said nothing, she left the couch and lowered to her knees in front of him. She pulled his face forward until their foreheads were touching then took both of his hands in hers. She closed her eyes tightly, almost as if she wished he could read her mind this way, that she could make him understand without saying it. But she knew when she decided to come here that it wouldn't be that easy.

"Elliot, I've never said this to anyone before. Never a man, not in this way," she told him, holding his face in her hands and tears falling from her eyes. "But I love you."

He pulled his forehead away from hers so he could see her face. "Please don't say it." Her heart dropped. "Don't say it unless you mean it."

She smiled through tears then. "I do mean it, and I should have said it sooner." She thought back over the years, at their complicated, unrequited, twisted involvement. "I should have said it a lot sooner."

"Does this mean you're not afraid of me anymore?" he asked softly, hopefully.

"I've never been afraid of you, Elliot. Never," she told him sincerely. "I've just always been afraid of what I feel for you."

"And now you're not?" he asked.

She laughed a little. "Are you kidding?" she said. "I'm fucking terrified. But I'm more afraid of the alternative."

He stroked her cheeks and smiled at how her eyeliner was now mixing with her tears. He swiped at it and kissed her lips once, firmly, desperately. She saw his thumbs, which were stained with her blackened tears. She kissed the inside of his left hand then rose to her feet. "Can I use your bathroom?" she asked. "I'm a mess here."

He smiled at her. "Of course you can," he said, motioning toward the small hallway. "It's that way."

He was reluctant to let her hand go, so their fingers lingered until she had to pull from his grasp to continue down the hall. "Promise I'll be right back," she said softly.

When she disappeared down the hallway, he collapsed backwards into the chair and released the longest, slowest breath. He ran his hands over his face, wiping away the tears that had welled but that he'd managed to hold back. He glanced at the TV and saw the Mets had definitively blown Game 4. He found that he really didn't care that much anymore, grabbing the remote and clicking off the muted post-game show.

On her way to the bathroom, Olivia glanced briefly into the other rooms as she made her way down the hall. She identified what surely was Eli's room by the small basketball hoop attached to the top of the door. She'd intentionally come when she was sure the boy would be with his mother, so the room was otherwise dark. Next to it was small room that housed a computer station and a weight bench.

Directly across from the bathroom was a dimly-lit room with a queen-size bed at the middle. Her eyes were drawn immediately to the white dress shirt folded over the edge of the bed, surely where Elliot had discarded it when he'd returned from his meeting. She glanced behind her down the hall to make sure Elliot wasn't looking, then stepped into the room, lifted the shirt and drew it close to her nose, inhaling the subtle scent of him. Her eyes closed and her mouth curved into a small smile as she retreated across the hallway and into the bathroom. She was done talking. It was time to show him.

Elliot had let the armchair envelope him while he waited for her to return. His legs were open and relaxed, his head back and his hands resting limply on his thighs. A sense of relief had settled over him that she'd come here and told him everything he'd wanted to hear. The emotional release left him tired and the most relaxed he'd been in weeks. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, relishing the feeling.

"See, told ya I'd be right back," he heard her say from behind his closed eyes. He smiled, opening his eyes to see her standing before him in nothing but … was that really … his shirt. Only the two bottom buttons were fastened, the open neckline dipping low enough to beckon him. Her tears and smeared makeup were gone. Beyond the shirt and her body peeking from beneath it, he was most drawn to her expression. There was no confrontation or fear in her eyes. He saw a heady blend of love and lust.

"Jesus Liv," he uttered, sitting up and forward in the chair and reaching for her. She stepped closer to him, close enough that he could run his fingertips along the sides of her bare thighs. He expected to find her panties underneath, so as his hands made their way all the way to her hips and found nothing there, his fingers froze and his mouth feel open.

She put two fingers to his chin and closed his mouth for him. He swallowed hard and attempted to speak. "But you said …" he began.

She pressed her fingertips to his lips to quiet him because she knew what he was going to say. She hadn't lied to him. She hadn't come here for sex. But she was very, very interested in making love.

"C'mon," she said, taking his hands from her hips and linking her fingers with his. "Let's go try out that bedroom."

– Finis –

I wouldn't leave you hanging. There is an epilogue. Please read Come Again for the details of what happened in the bedroom.