Rating: this chapter is K+, some adult themes

Disclaimer: Characters are property of Dick Wolf, NBC et al.

Spoilers: Everything's up for grabs

Pairing(s): Elliot/Olivia, Olivia/Brian and Elliot/Kathy

Summary: Please see chapter 1

A/N: So this is where the post-eps start coming in, beginning with season 15's "Internal Affairs". I'm sure I'm not the only one who appreciated that they tried to give Elliot and Olivia's relationship some sort of resolution but didn't appreciate how they did it, what it implied about the most important relationship of this entire series. I now read that interrogation scene not as gospel truth but as indicative of Olivia's bitterness over Elliot's departure and how it has tainted her view of all those years they spent together (which she did not spend just waiting around for him to leave his wife). Rather than as a resolution in itself, I read this scene as fallout from the lack of resolution between them. And I felt someone needed to call her/the writers on this twisted, inaccurate view of Elliot and her relationship with him.

A/N2: Also, for the purposes of plot and pace I have given Noah a room of his own. Read forth.

Part Two

2014

Olivia exits the elevator with a bag on each shoulder and a sleeping child in her arms. Her work bag is stuffed with unread files and unfinished forms. The bag on the opposite shoulder holds all of Noah's essentials – his toys, books, wipes and formula. One of the hands wrapped round his increasingly heavy body also lugs a shopping bag with the basic ingredients for her dinner. She didn't dare put anything down while she rode the elevator for fear of rousing an exhausted Noah or not being able to reassemble her current state of balance beneath her burdens. So by the time the doors slide open, one bag is strangling her fingertips of all blood while another is close to sliding off her. Noah slumbers on though, his shallow, soft breathing in her ear.

Olivia shuffles off the elevator and heads down the hushed corridor. Turning the corner though, she sees a rumpled form stationed at her door. One leg is splayed out flat, the other propped up in a pair of faded jeans. His arms are folded over his chest which rises and falls in a steady rhythm. His head is tipped back, his lips parted and his eyes closed as he snoozes against her door. Her slow, laboured shuffle doesn't halt. Partly because all she wants is to get inside, lower Noah to his crib, drop everything else and pour herself a drink. And partly because, following two surprising appearances, she's getting a little more used to her old partner gate-crashing her new life, however fledgling it may be.

Reaching her doorway, Olivia stares down at him a second. Then she sticks out a foot, nudging his butt with enough force to satisfy her more vindictive impulses.

Elliot grunts and rouses. "Well, that's just petty..."

"You're blocking my door," she says without a hint of apology.

"You weren't answering your phone," he explains, running a hand over his face and scrubbing at his sleepy eyes.

Her free hand slips into her pocket for her keys. "Call it payback."

He looks up at her, blinking himself awake. Then scrambles to his feet, muttering, "Lemme give you a hand—" He reaches for her work bag just as it slides off her shoulder. Lifting it back on, Elliot then puts out his hands to receive the still dozing Noah.

But Olivia turns to her door with her burdens, sifting through her keys to find the one she needs. "I'm fine," she says just as her fingers fumble and the keys drop to the floor.

Elliot bends to retrieve them. "Ah, how I've missed those two words falling from your lips," he murmurs before fitting the key into the lock and shoving the door open.

Olivia says nothing, merely shooting him a look as she steps inside. Having learnt fast how to do the mommy juggle, she sheds two bags on the couch and another on the kitchen counter while making a beeline for Noah's new room. Focused on her young charge, she doesn't invite her partner in. But she hears his footsteps enter behind her and senses his eyes taking in every detail of her new home.

Wandering slowly through the white and beige space, Elliot recognizes the odd knickknack from Olivia's old residence and her familiar, relaxed style. The living area is an uncharacteristic mess though, strewn with toys, blankets, cushions, clothes, newspapers and children's books. It's the kind of mess he recalls, the kind of mess that occurs when a family is adjusting to a new addition. Smiling slightly, he moves to a bookshelf, eyes honing in on a collection of photographs. At the front, there is a photograph of Olivia in a black dress with Munch in a white suit. Next to it is a photo of her with Calvin in Central Park – the young man's height competes with hers, though his face has retained its youth. Also at the forefront is one of her and Cassidy in a sports bar. She has an arm slung around his shoulders while he loosely clutches a beer. He faces her, nose pressed to her cheek as her mouth and eyes erupt with laughter. Behind these more recent snapshots of her life are two he recalls seeing daily.

The one of Olivia and her mother sat on her desk for years. Elliot had only met Serena Benson once and, like her daughter, there was a steel beneath her discernible beauty and intelligence. It gave both women an initial aura of coldness – though Elliot knew he was one of the lucky few to glimpse the warmth beneath Olivia Benson's habitual chill. Another photograph from that time lurks at the back of the shelf. This one used to enjoy pride of place on Captain Cragen's desk. In it, the two of them are larking about with their boss in front of an assembly of flags – Cragen puffs out his chest while he and Olivia throw mock salutes at his side. In these pictures, Olivia is achingly young, her smile wide and easy, her eyes less guarded and her hair bobbed and dark. It simultaneously feels like an aeon ago and just yesterday. But he remembers her like that. In excruciating detail. He remembers because – he knows now – that's when he first began falling in love with her.

-x-

1998

Olivia winced as she took off her jacket.

"You okay?" Elliot took hold of the collar with one hand, carefully drawing it down and off her arms.

She smiled as he handed it back to her. "I'm fine."

The perp had wrenched her arm pretty bad. She'd been in the process of cuffing him when the oversized skinhead had decided to make a last ditch attempt at freedom. Struggling free, he'd used the only weapon on hand, flinging a bucket of dirty dishwater at the two of them before ducking out the back door. Munch and Jeffries were waiting in the alley though, guns drawn. Of course none of it would have happened if Elliot hadn't first riled their perp up with insults and accusations. Then he wouldn't have responded by running. He wouldn't have surprised Elliot around a blind corner, pouncing on him and putting him in an intractable headlock. Before he even knew what had hit him, his partner was there, ordering the dirtbag to let him go. It took a little negotiating but eventually, he was released, dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. His head was still spinning and his throat wheezing when the perp yanked at Olivia's restraining hands and fled.

Elliot opened his locker, glancing sideways at her. "Thanks for havin' my back."

She shrugged and turned to hers. "'Course. We're partners." She took a fresh shirt from the locker and dumped it on the bench, her eyes making fleeting contact with his. "For better or worse, right?"

"That was definitely worse," he mumbled, unfastening the buttons at his wrists.

She tugged the tails of her soaked shirt out of the waistband of her pants. "Well, you don't exactly bring out the mild side in most people."

His mouth curled up in one corner. "I'll take that as a compliment."

She humphed and turned her back to him. "You would."

Elliot turned his back as well, fingers moving to the buttons of his shirtfront. But a moment later, the cool, isolated silence of the locker room made him turn his head her way and note, "You were good in there."

"You mean 'for a woman'," she responded dryly.

"No, not 'for a woman'. Just sayin'…" he peeled off his wet shirt, mopped his chest with it then reached into his locker for his back-up, "that was some nice negotiating…good police work."

Olivia turned back, her soiled shirt replaced but her face exhibiting an expression of mild confusion. "I'll…take that as a compliment…?"

"You should," he nodded, turning back too. "It's meant as one."

She nodded in reply, gaze flicking briefly to the ink on his shoulder before dropping to her hands as they began tucking her shirt beneath her belt. "So, what's with the tat?"

Elliot glanced at his tattooed limb then shook out his shirt. "Got it when I was seventeen, when I found out about my first kid."

"Maureen?"

"Maureen."

"And what's it mean to you?"

He turned the shoulder towards her. "It's Jesus."

"I…" she rolled her eyes, head tipping to one side, "I realize it's Jesus, I mean— what does he symbolize…for you."

Elliot slipped his shirt on, started rolling up the sleeves. "Sacrifice."

Her head bobbed slowly. "That's what you live your life by?"

He gave a shrug of simplicity. "What else is there?"

"And the, ah…" she turned back to her locker, waving a finger at the ink on his inner arm, "what's that one? US Marines?"

Elliot lifted the arm, fisting his hand and showing her the Eagle, Globe and Anchor marking his skin. "Semper fi, partner, semper fi."

Retrieving her bag, Olivia elbowed her locker shut then faced him again with furrowed brows. "Which means what again?"

He paused, fingers working on the final buttons of his shirt. "Always faithful," he answered eventually, voice quiet.

She nodded once, averting her eyes. "Ah."

A short silence took over. An older pair of partners entered, chuckling and chatting and heading for their respective lockers. Olivia lifted her bag onto her shoulder while Elliot collected his things and closed his locker. Then, turning to her with an expectant expression, he asked:

"So you buyin' me a drink or what?"

Olivia shook her head and headed for the door. "You and your silver tongue."

-x-

2014

Olivia re-appears, running a hand through her short, dark hair and moving slowly to the kitchen counter. A baby monitor is strapped to her hip and her voice is hushed as she tells him, "Now's really not a good time."

Elliot puts down the photo he was studying and heads over to her. "Neither was earlier apparently. Nice job ditchin' me."

Taking a cereal box from her shopping bag, she ducks to put it in a cabinet then rises, eyes narrowed. "How'd you find me anyway?"

He smirks at her across the sleek countertop. "Hey, I may only be a lowly detective but I still know how to track down someone. Even someone who doesn't want to be found."

She turns away, opening another cabinet and putting away several jars of baby food. "So you still have a shield then?"

"For now. No thanks to you."

"Wasn't expecting any thanks."

Elliot pauses then says in a lower voice. "I saw Cassidy's name on the lease."

Olivia casts him a blank look. Elliot lifts his brows in disbelief.

"Really, Liv? Cassidy?"

She shrugs a shoulder, continues putting away her groceries. "He's a good guy."

"Good enough for someone," he mumbles, planting his palms on the counter. "Not for you."

"Well, didn't work out anyway. How could it?"

"Meaning?"

She stalls before speaking the truth – but only for a moment. She's not interested in playing games with him and she's long past the stage of needing to hide. In fact, right now, the truth feels like her deadliest weapon. "Brian was only ever a substitute. You knew that at the start. So did I – on some level...And now," she slots a bottle of orange juice into the fridge door then swings it shut, "…so does he."

-x-

2013

She nestled against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and drinking in his spicy man smell. She knew Brian was eager to move them to the bedroom, to christen their new bed – he had been for some time. But she still wasn't ready, even after months of therapy. And especially after witnessing what she had that night between her questionable boyfriend and yet another sex-worker. Instead, Olivia closed her eyes and wrapped an arm around his body, blocking out everything but his breath. His voice interrupted her quietude though, rumbling in his chest, under her ear:

"You know…I heard what you said in interrogation."

She didn't open her eyes, replying in a playful, drowsy tone, "Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

Brian took a breath, pausing but pressing on, "You were talkin' about Elliot. Weren't you?"

"I…" she shifted against him, adjusting her head on his chest and screwing her eyes closed tighter, "was saying whatever I needed to to get her to open up. Clearly, she was attached to her partner if she was arranging assaults for him, standing guard while he committed rape." She inhaled, shrugging weakly, "We needed her confession to nail him so I…said what I had to to get it."

"Or maybe you were projecting."

"Projecting? Bri—"

He sat up straighter, withdrawing his arm from around her and stretching it over the back of the couch. "But that's not how it was."

Roused from her comfy position, Olivia blinked at him in confusion. "How what was?"

He looked down at her, eyes tapering and head slanting sideways. "I watched you two together. Remember? And even way back then Stabler was as head over heels for you as you were for him. Why d'you think I got outta there?"

She drew back into a sitting position, told him in a soft, simple voice, "Elliot…is long gone. He's not on my mind."

"Then why'd I find a box of his stuff when I was unpacking?" Brian pointed to the bookcase surrounded by half-unpacked cardboard boxes. "Right there. His ID. His notebooks. His goddamn mug, Liv. A photo of him with one of his forty-seven kids…"

She darted a look at the box, ducked her head. "It's nothing." Lifting her gaze back to his, she insisted, "I'm with you now."

He leant forward, tone, gaze and body all becoming more urgent. "But a part of you will always be with him, belong to him."

Olivia retreated into the cushions, eyes and face turning away. "I owe El a lot—"

"D'you sleep with him?" he interrupted, the question abrupt but condemnation free.

She hesitated, releasing a heavy sigh. "Why do you want to know?"

"I'll take that as a yes," he muttered bitterly.

"Hey, come on…" She reached for his hand, held it in hers.

Brian budged closer, turning his hand over and grasping hers tight. "No, look…I just— I need you to tell me that all this…" he glanced round to indicate their new abode, their new arrangement, their sudden, increased commitment, "it's not just…a reaction to everything that's happened to you…recently."

"That's not—" her brows furrowed and eyes closed in fleeting pain, "I'm different now. I want something different. Something new."

"But do you want me?"

Olivia opened her mouth. Leaning in, she forced her eyes to twinkle and her lips to smile in an effort to get them back to the light-hearted, if strained, banter of minutes before. "Well, you're the other name on the lease, aren't you?"

Brian just held her hand and her gaze and said, "I love you, Olivia."

"I know..." She lifted her free hand, stroked his face. "And I…care about you. Very much. You know that."

He nodded, drew her hand away from his cheek then got up from the couch. "Yeah. I know."

She watched him go, slumping down into the new couch, surrounded by new cushions and new walls and new light fixtures. She felt like hurling one of the immaculate new cushions at the unmarked box by the bookshelf. But she didn't. Olivia just rose, walked into the kitchen and poured herself a generous glass of red wine. Then she sipped it slowly as she gazed out her new window at her new view of the darkened city.

Part Two To Be Continued Soon...