oh my god. this is like the chapter that would not be written. it just would not be fucking written.

I sat and sat and sat and tried. and tried. and TRIED! mother of god it was like torture. I mean, I knew what was going to happen in the chapter after that. but I was thinking, hey, I could pair them up. hey, I could leave them unraveled. hey, I could totally mess this up some more. but then there was that whole tie-it-up-to-the-story-you-have-already-basically-written and it got so horribly hard to write. the hump of the hill you struggle relentlessly to overcome. the corner in your relationship that you mercilessly fight to turn. the chapter of your OE story that is telling you that you can go one way or another will this relationship. but only one.

so you have to make a choice.

and it kills you, because you think you may lose half your readers over this, or gain more, or lose more, or just be abandoned altogether in search of better fics. so oh my god, the pressure. PRESSURE. brain-crushing pressure.

I know I'm a drama queen (well, of course) and I hope that you all understand the choice I made. it was not an easy one. it practically killed me. but I made it, and now it's up to you to let me know if I am ruined or better off for it. it's short for a reason.

He was close to drunk. And because of that fact, he was well aware he should not be driving home. But Olivia was definitely more drunk than he was, if he was drunk at all, so he strapped himself in behind the wheel and flexed his fingers on the dashboard.

"Prepare for a bumpy ride." He said, and she laughed as she climbed in next to him.

"Shouldn't I drive?" She offered it with a sinister grin, her eyes flaming with their alcohol-driven fervor.

"What's your name, dear?"

"Buddy Holly."

"That's what I thought." He started the car, pulling out of their parking spot and blinking at the lights, suddenly very bright in his stinging eyes. "I'll stick to driving, you stick to sobering."

"Coffee," She said, her voice suddenly a soft moan. "Give me coffee, damn it."

"I'll make you coffee back at the room."

"Fine." She slumped in her seat, rolling down the window. He shivered at the freezing air suddenly blowing in his face, stinging his nostrils and eyes. He squinted at the road, blurred by a flurry of snow. The air tasted like salt and snow on his tongue, but he smiled, reminding him of where he was. Who he was with. Who they could be tonight.

"Elliot?" She turned to him, her eyes wide with slight confusion.

"Yes, Mr. Holly?"

"Elliot, do you think that man is still after us?"

"I have no idea." He grinned, but his smile faded when he realized of who she spoke. Perhaps she was not as drunk as she seemed, because the look in her eyes was sober enough.

Don't let down your guard! An angry looking Cragen was suddenly floating in his mind, pointing an accusing finger at him.

Yes, this was definitely letting down his guard. Getting drunk and DWI and thinking about sex with your partner. He was perfectly vulnerable to any attack. A four year old could run up and attack him with a lollipop, and he would be completely defenseless.

"I really need coffee." She smiled again, as though forgetting she had ever spoken earlier.

"I know." The hotel appeared on the horizon, and he smiled to himself. Another successful drive while wasted. This would be a record.

"Elliot?"

"Yes?"

"I can't move my legs."

"What?" He stared at her as he got out of the car, sprawled across the front seat with a strange look on her face. "Why not?"

"Because the world is spinning. And the car is spinning. And you keep turning bright pink. So stop already." She threw a punch, though he was too far away to receive any blows, harmless as they were.

"So what am I supposed to do?" He tried not to laugh, though the frown on her face was growing wider.

"Carry me, damn it!"

He stopped grinning.

"What?"

"Pick me up and- oh jesus. I think I'm going to hurl."

"Let's get you off the ride first, sport." He hurried around to her side of the car, pulling her onto his shoulder as she lost her balance on the car step. She was so light…

"Elliot…" She let out a groan, falling backwards and into his arms.

"I don't think I can carry you, Liv." But he did. He pulled her up. He cradled her like a child, one arm beneath her legs, one arm around the small of her back. She fell limp as a doll within his grip, her head flopping onto his arm as she gurgled her way to the front door. He felt himself growing red, and ignored the raised eyebrow from the woman at the main desk.

"Elevator?" He whispered to the angel in his arms, almost feeling the tender whisper of her wings brushing against his cheek.

"Sure."

She was as light as one of his kids suddenly, and he knew he could carry her anywhere. If she wanted to sleep in Oklahoma tonight, then by god, he would walk her there. If he wanted to take her home to Queens, let her sleep in that smooth-sheet bed where the moonlight always fell, he would walk them down the highway. The strength he needed was there when she was in his arms, just as it had been all that afternoon.

He walked her into an empty elevator, and waited for the doors to close. He stared down at her- her eyes closed by long eyelashes, her hair falling like feathers across her forehead. She let out a small sigh, and he smiled, treasuring the comfort of this moment, the peace he knew he did not deserve but still longed to feel.

The walk to their room…holding her made it seem like an eternity, a timeless eternity where two people had a future together, where hopeless dreams were possible, where things that went unsaid didn't really matter. They could bring it all together - the lies, the doubts, the fears. Everything could culminate here.

He opened their door, and did not reach for the lights. He did not go to the couch. He did go to the chair. He went to the bedroom, and gently lay her down upon the downy pillows. His arms ached when they released her, and how tempted he was to pick her up again, but he let her go. He let her go and began to unbutton his shirt, watching her all the while as his shirt was removed. Then he took off his pants, hung the belt on the chair. She lay silent and still, radiating peace.

"Olivia," He whispered her name, climbing up beside her. "Olivia…"

"Urgh…" She groaned, turning onto her side to face him. "Coffee, El. Coffee."

"Right." His face fell, if only for a moment. He slid back out of bed and went into the kitchen, stumbling in the dark until he had found the night light. Once he'd started a pot, he returned to the bedroom.

"Elliot," He looked over at her. She was under the sheets. She wore nothing.

He could not say anything. Any energy that could be used for speaking was traveling southward at the moment. Ashamed, he stepped out of the room, biting his lip.

"Where are you going?" She called, her voice a bit harsh. "I can't find my suitcase. Get me my pajamas."

Her suitcase was in the bathroom. He pulled his way through it, ignoring the bras that graced his fingertips, extracting a silky slip top and sweatpants.

She took them and waited until he had left. He went to the coffee in silence, wondering what had just happened.

Had he intended for love to be made? Had he had such hopes? Had he been anticipating it?

She obviously hadn't.

He poured the coffee, controlling the inner anger stirring in his soul. Strangely enough, he'd begun to contain these feelings now. Where once the temper had consumed him, filling his thoughts ever since the day he'd first screamed with Kathy, he could pacify the temptations. He could hold back the emotional wave and remain silent. Calm. Collected.

He'd been able to ever since she'd held his hand.

He returned to the bedroom with coffee, which she eagerly took and proceeded to down like a shot, despite its temperature. He watched her while she drank, possibly still drunk, possibly just…strange. Everything felt strange tonight.

When she was done, she turned off the light beside the bed.

He was sitting in the chair by the window, watching her. When he did not move, she turned the light back on, staring pointedly at him.

"Are you going to sleep there all night?"

"I just…I thought…" He paused, staring at his hands. What had he thought? Last night they had shared a bed accidentally. Well, almost accidentally. Tonight though, drunk as they may be, he was fully conscious of this decision.

"I don't mind if you sleep next to me."

He nodded then, walking gingerly to the bedside and crawling in beside her. She turned out the light. She whispered something inaudible. Her finger traced something on his arm.

His body flared with life.

"What?" He asked, catching the glow of her eyes in the darkness.

"I said that it was very sweet of you, carrying me back to the room. I'm not as drunk as I seem, you know. Just lazy."

"Anytime."

She squeezed his arm gently, her eyes glowing again.

"While I'm still drunk for the record, can I say something?"

"Sure."

"I didn't forget anything that happened today. I never will."

"Neither will I." He reached out and cupped her cheek with a warm hand, smiling at her through the filter of darkness. "I'm sorry I ever said otherwise."

"I know," She kissed him on the cheek, and he felt his face tingle with warmth, sparks flying beneath the skin.

He pulled her body towards his, and she accepted the gesture. Now that both of their heads were on one pillow, she nestled within the curve of his collar, beneath his chin. He felt the warmth of her form against his own, her feet touching his bare legs and her back pressed up against his abdomen. He let his arm fall over her, and she pulled closer, letting out a small sigh as she accepted his embrace, embellishing by kissing his hand.

"You have always been so good to me." She whispered, making him smile. "And since I'm still drunk, I have to tell you something."

"What is it?" He grinned, because he knew how drunk he was as well. Drunk and guaranteed to forget it all by morning.

"I love you."

His breath caught in his throat. He froze suddenly, and she felt the tension in his body. She nestled deeper, and he relaxed at once, his arm wrapping tighter around her.

"Did I…" She began turning to him with a frown. "I'm sorry." He saw a tear forming in the corner of her eye. She tried to laugh, but could not. "The things we say when we're…when we feel…"

"I do too."

He kissed her. On the lips. Long and hard and burning with passion.

Her eyes narrowed and she gave into the heat as his hand moved over her body, searching for the source of her radiant warmth.

She pulled away first, and put her head beneath his chin again. She did not kiss him again that night. He did not take off her clothes. Yet they were fully satisfied by the honesty of that kiss, of the raw intentions of their emotion, the need that drove that both in that one timeless moment.

"Goodnight, Elliot."

He knew he could wake up and not remember any of this. He knew some things could change, but not all of them. He knew that he could wake up and take this slowly, surely, however they needed to. Maybe this would work out. Maybe this wouldn't. But either way, he'd needed that kiss.

"Goodnight, Olivia."