AN: To my anonymous, illiterate friend (you know who you are): Here's hoping Santa brings you the dictionary you so desperately need so you don't have to embarrass yourself in public again!

Part Three

The usual morning rush, always exacerbated by a day off, would have left Olivia a good fifteen minutes late. Cragen wasn't that big of a stickler for eight o'clock, not with the kind of hours the squad regularly kept, but Olivia figured it was for her own protection that she never did anything that he might remember the next time she fucked up bad and needed a favor. Luckily, as she paused in the kitchen, trying to determine if she had enough time for toast, her eyes fell on Elliot's wallet and keys. She'd forgotten she had use of a car. With a smile, she put some bread in to toast and poured herself a glass of orange juice.

On the other side of the spectrum, Elliot's morning hadn't gone nearly so smoothly. Olivia's good mood soured the moment she saw him. Though he'd managed to drag himself to work on time, his bloodshot eyes gave away how he felt. He was on the phone when she walked in, his folded arms serving both to mask the sloppy, wrinkled suit coat and prevent his body from slumping forward onto his desk. She felt a twinge of sympathy for him, knowing that his haggard appearance probably didn't do justice to the way he was suffering. But then her eyes fell on his hands, reminding her of where they'd been when she'd been trying to get him in the car.

The asshole had been trying to get in her pants.

The married asshole.

Angry all over again, she threw his keys down on his desk. He winced at the noise, looking up at her in confusion. Rather than the drunk bastard from the night before, it was her normal partner, somewhat worse for wear due to his hangover from hell. His eyes took forever to find the source of the sound, having just learned that moving too quickly would increase the pain.

"Never mind, I think I found it," he moaned into the phone before hanging it up. Eventually, his eyes found their way back to hers. "Please tell me know where my wallet is too."

She nodded, pulling it from her pocket and laying it on his desk. "The receipt from the bar is in there."

His eyes narrowed. "Bar?"

She nodded as she sat down at her desk, wondering how the hell Elliot was going to work when he couldn't sit up straight. "Yeah, I got a call from the bartender. He was a bit upset you passed out on his bar and all."

Elliot sighed, opening his wallet and reading the credit card slip in dismay. "Jesus, what the hell did you buy?"

"I didn't buy shit. I had to drag your drunk ass out of there and drive you home." She glowered at him, at the suggestion that she'd been responsible for the bill. "And believe me, I had other things to do." She hadn't, of course, but it still hadn't been convenient.

His eyes drifted down and Olivia thought he was about to fall back asleep, but then they suddenly turned dark and snapped back to hers. "Yeah, I'm sure Mr. Wonderful wasn't done with you yet." He shook the receipt at her. "It was only four, he probably thought dinner was worth a few more hours at least."

Her mouth fell open, words failing her. She didn't know what the fuck had merited his cruel words and she wanted to put him in his place. But then she noticed how his eyes had locked on her neck.

"You really should have tried covering that up. Really sends the wrong message in Special Victims, you know?" His red eyes seemed to light up with the fun of being mean to her.

And she wasn't about to take it. She leaned forward across her desk, wishing what she had to say could have been screamed if only to cause his head to pound. But yelling about how his fucking teeth had caused the bruised welt on the side of her throat was only going to start trouble.

"Not that my personal life is any of your business, asshole, but it just so happened that after you tied one on last night and dragged my ass out of bed to come get you, you decided you were getting lucky and turned into a fucking vampire." She was mildly amused that his eyes widened and his cheeks blushed red. "Next time, I promise my gun will be causing far more damage than my knee did. Keep your fucking hands to yourself."

Knowing her day was ruined and unhappily reminded of the possessive way her partner's hands had roamed all over her body, she stomped off to the roof to get some air. It was either that or throttle the man and, if she were being honest, she really didn't want to touch him.

Cleaning, usually slightly obsessive cleaning, was Olivia's typical fallback for when she was upset. There was something cathartic about scrubbing the tub on her hands and knees until she was sweating. Unfortunately, she'd already made her apartment ready for a Martha Stewart surprise inspection one day earlier. So her lingering issues with her partner – his new bent toward drinking himself stupid and the fight they'd had that morning – found another outlet. She started making lists.

She listed all the groceries she needed. She listed the various things around the apartment that needed fixing. She listed all the items of clothing she needed to replace. She was in the middle of listing a bunch of phone calls she'd been meaning to make when the phone rang.

She abandoned the notebook and pen and random lists on the coffee table, jogging into the kitchen to answer the phone. She grabbed it just before her answering machine would have spared her the trouble. "Yeah, hello?"

"Hey," Elliot's voice hesitantly offered. "Am I interrupting something?"

With a sigh, Olivia started putting away the dishes from the dishwasher, slamming them down nearly hard enough to break them. "Fuck you if you're calling me to start another fight." She didn't like the insinuation he was making about what she'd been doing and she knew it was true simply from the way he'd accused her of the same thing having left a mark on her neck that morning.

"Actually, I was calling to apologize."

"Oh, well, in that case, go right ahead."

And so he did, begging for forgiveness for having been a jerk that morning and the night before. He didn't know what had gotten into him, he claimed, in fact he couldn't even remember a damn thing about it. And after he promised that he'd try very hard not to deserve another knee in the balls, Olivia let him off the hook.

In a much better mood, Olivia headed out for a walk to clear her head. The city was a different place in the evening, a very different energy buzzing around in the dark than in the morning when people were rushing around for work. The cool air helped calm her down, pushing Elliot and his problems far from her mind. After about an hour, the cool air was starting to get to her, chilling her hands and nose.

She headed home, ready to crawl into bed for the night. Her shoes retook their usual position by the door, despite her cleaning fit. But she did pause long enough to gather the lists she made, throwing them in the trash, their purpose served. She set the notebook back in its usual place by the phone. Then she went to her bedroom, stretching the muscles in her neck as she went.

She stopped dead in the doorway, her eyes locked on the bed. Sitting there on her pillow was a blood red rose.

Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest that she could barely hear as she turned and ran for the door. Someone had been in her apartment. Someone had been in her bedroom. She was shaking from something besides the cold when she got to the vestibule between the doors of her building. Her apartment wasn't safe, obviously, but neither was the outside.

Fumbling in her pocket, she found her phone and dialed the first person who came to mind.

He was there in twenty minutes, clearly having sped the entire way from his house. He saw her as he climbed the front stairs, his face drawn tight. "Liv!"

She looked up, jumping up from her spot on the floor to let him in, diving into his arms for a hug that she hadn't even expected to need. She was still shaking as she led him to her apartment. Although she'd been hysterically frightened when she called him, she must have conveyed the issue pretty clearly.

"Why don't you stay out here while I check inside to make sure he's gone?" Elliot had already pulled his gun, ready to shoot anyone who dared threaten his partner.

She wanted to nod and agree, but she couldn't just stand there and let her partner protect her. No matter how violated and scared she felt, she was a cop. "No, I'm coming with you." Her gun was with her, always was, and so she drew it, mirroring Elliot's stance as he pushed open her door.

They checked the apartment thoroughly. At her own insistence, Elliot waited in the hall, just over the threshold as she scoured her own bedroom closet to be sure the bastard wasn't just hiding out, waiting for her to be alone. She reached for the long-stemmed rose, nearly jumping out of her skin when Elliot spoke.

"Don't you want to leave that for crime scene?"

She shook her head. "No. I want it gone." Using two fingers, she lifted the damn thing and race walked to the trash. "I don't want to call them."

"Liv, you said you thought he'd been in here before. You need to call it in."

The last thing she wanted was a bunch of techs tearing apart her place, the very same one she'd spent twelve hours cleaning. She shook her head again. "No. I don't want more people in here poking around. My privacy's already been invaded enough for the night."

He wasn't satisfied and it showed on his face as he glared at her. "How the hell did he get in, did you figure that out yet?"

"No. I left the door unlocked the other night by accident. I went out for a walk after you called. I must have left it unlocked again." It didn't seem like something she would do, but she couldn't swear she'd locked it. She knew she hadn't taken time to turn the deadbolt, so she felt like she was partly responsible. She sat down on the couch, thinking she'd probably be sleeping there for the foreseeable future.

Elliot sat down beside her, drawing in a deep breath and giving Olivia a fair indication he was going to say something she didn't want to hear. "You're going to tell Cragen though, right?"

Cragen would be pissed as hell that she hadn't reported it. And she knew Elliot would rat her out in a heartbeat if it meant keeping her safe. So, rather than facing the idea of Cragen being pissed off for having to find out from Elliot, she nodded. "Fine. I'll tell him in the morning."

He stared at her, his eyes searching hers for a long time. "You know if you don't, I will."

She nodded. "I know. I'll tell him. I just want to go to sleep now." Exhaustion had set in, her long walk coupled with the waning adrenaline leaving her eyes already half closed. "I'll tell him in the morning."

"You want me to stay?"

The suggestion itself was innocent, one she might have expected under the circumstances. But there was something else, perhaps the memory of the previous night, that bothered her. Something about his eyes too, the way he was staring at her. The way he seemed like he really, really wanted to stay.

She shook her head, wanting desperately to be alone. "No, I'm ok. We checked this place out. It's empty. I'll lock the door as soon as you leave and I'll be fine." She smiled, trying to offer him a reassurance she didn't feel. "I'm never going to forget to lock my door again after this."

Nodding, he climbed to his feet. "I really think this is a bad idea, but I'm not going to waste my time arguing." He turned back to face her at the door, giving her a warm smile. "Give me a call if you change your mind. I won't get mad."

She smiled back, knowing he was hoping she'd change her mind right then. "Thanks, El."

His hand moved out, lightly cupping the back of her head, holding her in place as he leaned forward to press his lips against her forehead. "Night, Liv."

Before he pulled his hand away, he brushed his fingers across the bruise he'd left on her neck. He nodded toward it. "I really wish I remembered that." He winked at her just before he turned away.

It sent a cold shiver through her.