He couldn't let her leave. He wouldn't let her leave. Not until she talked to him. He knew it was hard. He had no idea how he would handle it if one of his children was taken from him. And he knew that Olivia had loved that boy like her own, even though he'd warned her against it.

She began to put on her jacket. He let her. Even though he knew he wouldn't let her leave, it was safer with her in that jacket; he couldn't see so much of her soft olive skin and it was easier for him to keep his hands to himself.

She made a move to get past him and her took her by the arms. "Olivia." He needed to see her eyes. "Olivia." Her name was like a prayer in his mouth.

She was so close to him. He could smell her shampoo. Rosemary. Mint. Her perfume. Bergamot. Pomegranate. Amber. He'd never allowed himself to get this close. She was an assault on his senses. If he were a lesser man, he'd kiss her right now. If he were a lesser man, he'd forget about his wife, just like she had forgotten about him. If he were a lesser man, he'd give in. He'd fought long enough.

"El," she said, so softly. She wouldn't meet his eyes. "Let me by. Please."

"I can't," he spoke honestly. He lead her to a cot. "Sit." He guided her down softly, then sat on the cot across from her. Their knees bumped every so often and Elliot smiled inwardly. Little innocent touches made him feel connected to her, made him feel less guilty. "Talk." He knew he was being curt, but he wanted her to do the talking.

"El," she breathed. "I can't. I can't talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Because… if I do, I'll… I'll…"

"Snap," he finished her sentence for her.

She breathed, almost relieved that he understood. "Yes."

"Liv," he began. "I know how hard this must be for you…"

"No you don't," she snapped, then paused to check herself. "You have five beautiful children and a wife who loves you." He did not meet her eyes as she said this; he hadn't deliberately mislead her, but he hadn't given her all the information. She had no idea. "You don't know what it's like. To be alone, to feel that weight on you and to have no comfort, no relief from it." Olivia stood and crossed the room, away from Elliot. "I can't breathe Elliot. I can't breathe without him." She fought the tears. Fought them hard. "He was doing so well. He made my life so… good." She breathed deeply and stayed facing the wall, afraid to show him her weakness. "He was so fun. My apartment had life in it. He left crap everywhere: clothes, shoes, school books, video games. And I didn't mind the mess at all. I'd give anything to have it back."

Elliot looked at the ground. She was breaking open. She'd never talked this much about her life. Not at one time anyway. He'd had to put the pieces together over time. But this openness was so new to him. He wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Which is why what she did next changed everything for him.

She turned, her cheeks stained with tears and her eyes watery. Her arms were wide, palms up, so open to him. And then she spoke.

"I just miss him so much."

Elliot crossed the room so fast, she had barely registered it before she was in his arms. He'd never held her before, especially not like this. She tensed, every nerve in her body a live wire. She tried so hard to fight it, so hard to not feel. But she was tired and she soon found herself relaxing, closing her eyes and allowing Elliot to comfort her. She felt his arms wrapped so tightly around her, willing her to give in, letting her rest against him, telling her that he would be her support.

She had no idea how long they stayed like that. Seconds, minutes, hours. It didn't matter. She felt him, she allowed him in. She'd kept herself wound up for so long, it felt good to finally… unwind. And she couldn't imagine another person opening her. Elliot had peeled away her layers for years with his strong, yet delicate fingers. He'd chipped away at the walls she always managed to throw up. He was the one person she trusted… with her life. It's what made him a good partner.

Partner. Her partner.

This fact registered and her eyes opened. She had to keep some boundaries with him. There were some layers she couldn't allow him to work away. The layers that protected her from feeling too much for him were too important to keep up.

She started to pull away and his arms slipped from her shoulders, down her arms. She felt his arms knead the muscles in her biceps and she looked up at him. Warm coffee staring into cool water.

Before she knew it, his lips crushed down on hers and she lost her breath. So much for boundaries.

Elliot couldn't help himself. She was too open, too vulnerable, he couldn't take it. He had to feel her, comfort her, help her. Olivia very rarely needed saving, but saving her was his job. It was his responsibility.

He didn't remember moving to a cot, but he heard the bedsprings and he felt her under him. He couldn't stop kissing her. If he stopped even for a moment, he would think and his Catholic guilt would kick in and he would stop. And he didn't want to stop. Dammit, he didn't want to stop.

He pushed her camisole up and began to count her ribs, feeling her stomach muscles flex under his fingers. He moved his hand to her face and felt the dampness of her tears. She had not stopped crying, she would never stop feeling. Neither would he. He felt everything she did. It made him a good partner. He was always aware of her. He was aware of how she wrapped herself around him. Of how she felt beneath him. He was aware of how she felt like coming home.

He was all over her, overwhelming her, breathing new life into her. She felt his mouth on hers, she felt his tongue parting her lips, opening her up. He always knew how to open her up, even when she fought him. But she wouldn't fight him this time. She knew it was wrong. But if Elliot was wrong, she didn't want to be right.

He felt his hand up her shirt and smiled genuinely for the first time in a long time. The stubble on his chin rubbed roughly against her skin, the one harsh sensation in the midst of heaven. Elliot was kind and when his hand moved to unbutton her jeans, she didn't stop him.

Boldly, she moved her hands to the waistband of his slacks and pulled his blue button-down shirt up, sliding her hands up his chiseled chest. She heard him let out a groan and felt desire course through her veins. She hastily loosened his belt, unbuttoned his pants and slid his zipper quickly down. And then he was inside her. Just like that. And she felt full. Sweet perfection.

He moved with her, his hardened edges complementing her soft curves like two puzzle pieces. He rocked into her, making her moan into his mouth. Neither of them opened their eyes, afraid a dose of reality would pull them back down to earth.

It didn't take long. She knew it had been a while for her, but she began to wonder about the state of Elliot's marriage. He came in a matter of minutes, his orgasm triggering her own. That had never happened for her before. He softened within her and they breathed hard against each other. The smell of sweat and sex hung heavy in the air.

Olivia opened her eyes and found his eyes already open, boring into her, tearing her apart. Her breathing stopped entirely and she panicked. She pushed him off her and stood quickly, buttoning her jeans and straightening her camisole. She straightened her hair and smoothed her jacket, and she heard Elliot move on the cot behind her.

"Liv," he whispered.

She stopped, but wouldn't face him. Couldn't face him. She heard him stand and compose himself. She heard him approach her and felt his hands slide down her arms, his breath in her ear, on her neck. "Liv."

She shuddered and closed her eyes.

No. She couldn't get swept away. He was married. And before she knew it, she became "the other woman."

"Liv…" His nose pressed into her hair and she pinched back a sob. She couldn't have him. He was married. And she was incapable of getting close to anyone.

Anyone except Elliot.

But she refused to let herself believe he was different. He couldn't be. So she forced herself to do the hardest thing she'd ever had to. It took all the strength in the world to step forward and to keep walking. She felt a pull in her chest, threatening to haul her back into the safety of Elliot's arms. She couldn't let it happen.

She and Elliot were never a possibility.