Elliot Stabler had seen a lot of things in his lifetime— things that would scar even the bravest of soldiers. Being a detective in the Special Victims Unit, he never truly "got used" to the crime scenes or the horrific nature of some of their cases. Not only as a father, but as any sane human being, he had difficulties coping with the stress of his profession. Did he get angry? Hell yeah. Did he get into fights? Sure. Drink? Only when he needed to. It was just who he was. Often times, he found his faith conflicting with the stories of some of the victims. In the end, it had all just been too much for the man. After all, that's what he was: a man. He didn't have an iron-will or ceaseless patience; he could only take so much.

While he'd left the department, he still kept busy. It wasn't until 2013 that he retired his badge. After a series of failed attempts at finding a new path, Elliot had come to the conclusion that it was his time. He was far from 60 years, and with a record like his, there were no objections to his surrender. For the first time in decades, Stabler was free. Free to be a father. Free to be a civilian. Free to be himself.

Elliot never forgot about his former squad-mates. Not for a hot second. He thought about them almost every day, every single one of them: Finn, Munch, Cragen, most of all, Olivia. They'd been partners for 20 years. Partners for life. The pair had survived some rough experiences together. Between being shot and getting knifed in Grand Central, they had their fair share of stories. They hadn't always liked each other, though. No, when they first met, Olivia was unimpressed by Elliot's forced bravado. Similarly, Elliot was taken aback by Olivia's take-charge persona. However, it didn't take long for the two of them to care about one another— to love each other. They became more than partners: they became friends. And, when Elliot parted ways with the force, he often wondered what would have happened if he'd stayed.

Maybe it was because he'd been away for so long, or maybe it was because he'd gotten too comfortable in his life as it was, but when he saw Olivia Benson handcuffed to a steel table and locked in an interrogation room, Elliot felt a shift in his spirit. It was akin to the moment an optometrist put a lens over your eyes and the letters are crystal clear. The only problem was, it was too clear for Elliot. He didn't want to see any of this. He didn't want to see Olivia being treated like the scumbags they'd sent to the slammer and he was going to make damn sure no one viewed her as such, as if anyone did.

"We gotta fix this," Stabler grunted as he squinted through the glass.

Tutuola stood at the former detective's side with an overwhelming sense of deja vu. With his black shirt and black pants, Finn looked just as he always had: big, intimidating, and mean. "Prison break? I'm down," he said lightly.

"I'm serious," Elliot growled, "we can't just leave her in there." He watched as Olivia shifted in the hard, metal chair. He knew her well enough to know that she was avoiding their gazes. Over two decades under her belt, Olivia was smarter than some people gave her credit for. "This is bull. They had their turn with her. She's gotta rest."

"When have you ever known Liv to rest, man? Even if she was out, it ain't like she's gonna lay on the couch all day and watch Martha Stewart. She'd still wanna be here." Finn had known Olivia just as long as Elliot, and they had their own connection, but it wasn't as strong as the one she shared with her old partner. Everyone had been jealous of their relationship at some point. Sure, he and Munch were close, but Finn sensed there was more to it. He could see the way Elliot always tried to protect Olivia, and he could see it now.

Shaking his head menacingly, the balding man turned away from the painful window and leaned against it with his back. His arms folded to highlight his rough, take-no-shit attitude, he stared out at the rest of the office. Officers of all ranks were busily going about their days, totally unaware that another badge was in need. "I don't like it, Finn," Elliot mused. "Any of it."

As if he were taking in the same atmosphere, Finn nodded slowly. "I know. Took me a while to get used to it."

"It's the same building, but it's not the same precinct. And who the hell are those guys? Prick one and prick two, huh? They a package deal or something?"

Chuckling to himself, slightly amused at his friend's annoyance, the older detective sighed loudly. "Barba's not so bad. He can be an asshole, but he's a good suit."

"And the other?" Elliot probed, motioning to the man down the hall— the one who was very visibly giving orders.

"Murphy?" Something in Finn's voice changed, as if he too shared a subtle resentment towards their interim chief. "I'll let you know when I figured it out." With a long, heavy exhale, Stabler straightened his back and shoved his hands in his pockets. He walked up and down the end of the corridor, back and forth from wall-to-wall. Olivia had refused a lawyer and while Elliot and Finn held down the fort, the rest of the team worked together to form a game plan. "I hate to agree with the guy, but Murphy's right, man," Finn piped. "Things have changed. It's ain't like before. Cragen and Munch ain't around to bust our asses, but that don't mean they're not still bein' busted, you know?"

This got Stabler to cease his pacing long enough to crane his neck towards Finn and cock a single eyebrow. In a hopeless tone, he countered with, "Yeah, but at what cost?"

Two hours tore through the station and left very little to be salvaged. Two hours of Elliot being forbidden to enter the room, unable to communicate with Olivia. Everyone else was free to go in and out as they pleased, though only two people took advantage of that opportunity. Finn and Amaro took turns with the brunette, kept her company, tried to distract her. It wasn't as if they treated her with kiddie gloves, but they treaded carefully. Like a dance they'd perfected, they said nothing about the elephant in the room. Olivia was gracious towards their efforts, but she wasn't stupid. She knew they were all just killing time until something got sorted out. Either she was going to spend her night at the precinct, or she was going to spend it behind bars. Between the two, she wasn't sure which was less painful.

Around three o'clock, just as midday dawned on the office and phones rang on top of each other, Elliot peeled himself off of the transparent wall. Finn had been occupying the corner, keeping to himself as Nick entertained Olivia. As if it were all happening in slow motion, Murphy strode down the stout corridor, his unbuttoned sports coat flew behind him like a cape; however, he was no superhero. He was followed by Detective Rollins and that annoying hobbit with the mismatching suit. Instinctively, Elliot put himself in front of the door and blocked their way.

"Easy, El," Finn warned. He put a hand on the man's shoulder, an attempt to ease his temper before it was too late. God only knew what could happen.

"Haven't you done enough?" Stabler snarled at the temporary captain. A drop of spit flew from his mouth and landed on Murphy's lapel, an accident of course.

Having had more than enough of this guy's snark, Murphy shoved Elliot into the wall without any remorse whatsoever. "The only reason you're still here, is because I've completely overlooked protocol and allowed it, you got that? If anyone else had been in charge, you would've been on the street the moment you walked in."

Undeterred by the sergeant's machismo (he'd seen worse), Elliot straightened his shirt and fixed his tie. He was fully aware of the protocols and the rules, and he was fully aware that they'd been breaking said rules. Civilians were not permitted beyond the desks, that was lesson number one. That freedom only ever gave them the impression that they had power in the station, which they didn't. And now, with the roles reversed, Elliot finally understood how perverse that rule was. Without stirring the pot, he stepped aside and opened up the path, thus making room for the trio. However, once they all disappeared into the square space, Elliot clicked the button that let him hear their conversation.

If Olivia was surprised to see her squad join her and Amaro, she didn't show it. She merely nodded to each of them, including Barba. At this point, she didn't have enough steam to be angry— not at them, at least. "I'd offer you something to drink, but," she shrugged, "limited resources."

Although slightly humored by her dry comments, Murphy was all-business. They'd wasted enough time in creating a tactical plan, one they could've come up with in less than an hour. It'd been Amanda's suggestion, it was only fair that she did the honors. "Rollins," was all Murphy said.

Amanda followed the unspoken instructions and released the metal bracelets from around Olivia's wrist; the brunette massaged the skin where the silver rubbed a pink line into it. She looked up at Murphy with a quizzical expression, one clearly conveying her confusion. "What's going on?" she asked.

"We just bought you an extra day," Barba answered, somewhat restrained. "That's what's going on." It was as though there was more he wanted to say, but he held back. His Adam's apple lurched upwards, as if he were fighting against further sentiments. There was a bead of perspiration glistening on his forehead: Barba never sweat. Something was different about him, something Olivia couldn't pinpoint.

As if she didn't need anything else added to her already-high level of unease, Benson addressed the entire group. "What?"

In the hopes of alleviating her bewilderment, Murphy shed his bad cop persona, but only briefly. If anyone blinked, they would've missed it. "Strauss wanted you arrested, and you were. You've already been questioned as it relates to this case, both by the department and IAB. You're being released with the understanding that you will be under the supervision of a decorated officer."

"And who would that be?" Olivia wondered with great skepticism. Brian was nowhere to be seen, though it actually calmed her a bit not to have his eagle eyes following her every move.

Calling his name like a dog, Murphy shouted, "Mr. Stabler!" And, like an obedient canine, Elliot came rushing in. He all but stood at attention, so as not to escalate the tension between he and Murphy. "Because he no longer works here, he is not seen as a threat," Murphy explained. "However, his recognitions still stand."

With several armed individuals gaping at him, Elliot felt a chill run down his spine. That wasn't an easy feat. This had to be a joke. Hadn't Scruffy just slammed into him about the rules? Was this even possible? "Are you serious?" Elliot choked out.

"Olivia Benson," Murphy announced, resuming the role of hard-ass, totally ignoring Stabler's question, "we hereby release you into the care of Elliot Stabler. You may not leave the city for any reason. Your accommodations have already been settled." Brushing past Stabler, he disappeared like a ghost; in and out was his specialty. The only evidence of his presence was the scent of hazelnut coffee, but even that faded out within seconds.

The rest of the unit, however, did not recover as easily. While the majority of them had been aware of the decision, it didn't take away shock that accompanied it. All them had been an officer long enough to know what was allowed and what wasn't. Of all the people in the world, it was Barba who'd found a loophole in the system. Still gripping his suitcase, his cheeks flushed and his lips pursed together even more than usual, the ADA left with a single remark. "Get some rest, Detective. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

Much to the surprise of Elliot, the department had contacted the hotel he was staying at and arranged for a suite— compliments of New York City. It was much easier than adjoining rooms and, from their perspective, safer. In the end, safety was the most important aspect. As the news spread of the latest entanglement involving Olivia, not all of the NYPD was against her. In actuality, a fair amount of blues were behind her, supporting her. You'd just never know it from the way they'd acted.

Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, and a dining room. It was a big space for only two people. But, neither one of them were complaining. Olivia's apartment was being guarded by security, just to make extra certain that no one else was after her. In the case that there was an accomplice of some sorts, well, the department wished them luck in trying to break in. In the meantime, she was to spend her night in a room ten feet away from Elliot. They'd been caught in more precarious positions in the past, but this time felt different.

Stabler's belongings had already been moved into his new, temporary home. Meanwhile, Olivia had an overnight bag delivered to the front stoop. Amanda arrived at four thirty, accompanied by Finn. They only stayed long enough to check in with the pair and remind them to call if they needed anything. It was when Olivia was closing the door that she spotted two men in gear at the corner. She didn't say anything to them, not even when they both looked at her. To be honest, she didn't even care. There was no use in putting up a fight, especially not with SWAT members.

When dinner time came, Elliot offered to run for Chinese. He wasn't fond of the suggestion, as that would have meant leaving Olivia alone. But, when she insisted that she'd be fine, he had no choice: he had to respect her wishes. Anyways, he'd seen the way she kept checking her cellphone, waiting for a call. And, he knew just who she was waiting for. So, he grabbed his coat and his wallet, promised he'd be back in 15 minutes, and rushed through the hotel. He too saw the guards, and he too remained silent. He figured he'd caused enough rows for one day.

After exploring what there was to explore, Olivia changed out of her day clothes and into something more comfortable. A gray hoodie and jeans fit that profile perfectly. She kept her phone with her during her journey through the suite, hoping for it to light up. She wasn't sure why she was so hung up on it, exactly. It wasn't as if she were dying to be around him just then; she just needed to know he was ok. It hadn't taken Olivia long to realize that the reason she hadn't seen Brian earlier was because he left, enraged at the solution Barba had come up with. On one hand, she thought it immature of him to react so negatively. On the other, she sympathized with his anger; she just wished it was directed at the real problem, not something so juvenile. She had enough on her plate without having to worry about her pouting boyfriend.

At exactly 6:22, Olivia's device screamed for attention. It didn't take long for her to press the green button and hold it against her ear. "Brian?" she exhaled.

"Yeah, it's me," Cassidy replied in that gravelly voice of his.

"Where are you?"

Unashamed and uninhibited, the snockered man gurgled something along the lines of, "Somewhere with a lotta bottles."

Sitting on the pink, velvet couch, Benson dug her elbows into her knees and massaged her right temple. Of course he was at a bar. Why didn't that prove to be surprising? "Have you been there all afternoon?"

"Maybe. That depends. What time is it?"

Although he was mostly likely miles away, Olivia could practically smell the booze on his breath. Instead of putting herself first, like she ought to have been, she'd been fretting over Cassidy's well-being. However, it was in that moment that she came to the conclusion she'd made a mistake. "You know what, never mind," she muttered. "I'm just going to act like this didn't happen, which will probably be true for you in the morning. Have fun with your bartender." With that, she clicked the red button so fast, Cassidy couldn't even say "sorry."

"Trouble in paradise?" Elliot mused from the entry way, a plastic bag hanging at his side. The aroma of chicken lo mein and fried rice quickly spread throughout the lodging.

Shrugging casually, Olivia rose from the sofa and walked towards the glass table. "Smells good," she observed. She didn't want to dwell on the subject that was her relationship. She wasn't even sure that's what it could be called anymore.

Hearing the message loud and clear, Elliot unveiled two cardboard boxes, two pairs chopsticks, and said, "Tastes even better." He passed Olivia an eggroll, still in the bag, while he ate his wrapped in a napkin. Shreds of cabbage spilled from where he'd bit into it and fell onto his blue tee-shirt.

Neither one of them moved to sit down. They were perfectly comfortable standing up, leaning against the kitchen counter. They'd eaten like that on many occasions, during late-nights at the station. Back in the good old days, the entire squad had consumed enough Chinese food to fund the business for life. After all these years, Stabler still knew what Benson's favorite dish was.

"El, can I ask you something?" Olivia scraped the bottom of the bucked with the wooden utensils, suddenly overcome with jitters. Elliot did that thing where he tilted his head slightly and one corner of his mouth drooped downward; it was a silent "yes." "Where've you been?"

It was the question he'd been dreading most. He knew it was only a matter of time before he had to address his absence. They'd been avoiding it since he got there, which might as well have been months. It was a rare occurrence to witness Elliot get nervous. Olivia reckoned she'd only seen him truly antsy only a handful of times in the past. There was something about a burly detective's ears turning pink that seemed rather off. "I'll give you three guesses," he said.

While she much preferred a straight up answer, Olivia was quietly grateful for the playful undertone. It definitely distracted her from the obvious. "Hawaii?"

"I wish," Elliot snorted. He took large swig of Pepsi and shuddered as the bubbles settled in. "Try again."

"Hmm… Azkaban?"

"Az-ka-what?"

Laughing softly at Elliot's lack of knowledge, Olivia deliberated on her last guess. Instead of taking the easy way out, she used common sense. But then, there was so much he hadn't told her— so many empty spots that needed to be filled. She could only make so many assumptions. Setting the container on the table, she wiped her hands on the scratchy napkins and took a long, hard look at Elliot. What'd he say the other day? He "flew in?" Wherever he'd been, it had to have been far enough to take a plane. She searched for a hint, even the slightest clue, but fell short. Olivia really didn't know. "Come on, El, throw me a bone here."

As he chewed through a partially-cooked stalk of broccoli, Stabler offered one word. "British."

"England?" Olivia inquired dubiously. Elliot hardly ever left New York, let alone the country. England?!

Cleaning his chin with the back of his hand, Elliot nodded. "Kathleen lives there now. We were just visiting." He said this as nonchalantly as he could and braced himself for the backlash.

It didn't take long for it to dawn on Olivia what he'd given up just to be there. And suddenly, she felt more guilt than she did fear. Everyone knew how important family time was to Elliot. The mere thought of him leaving only to return to such a depressing case— it horrified Benson. "Are you insane?!" she barked. "Elliot, your daughter's on another continent and you left just like that?!"

"She understands, Liv. Hell, she told me to come. She was worried about you," he defended. "Kathy's still with her. It's no big deal."

Steam came out of Olivia's ears as she clenched her fists. This was exactly what she didn't want to happen. She didn't want people to put their lives on hold for her; she didn't want anyone to change their plans because of what Lewis had done. It wasn't anybody else's problem but her own. Everyone was acting like she needed babysitting, like she was too fragile to cope. But they were wrong. In fact, they were all making it worse. And this— this took the cake. Olivia wasn't just guilty, she was furious. "Look, I… I'm tired," she said, unable to continue with a proper argument, "Something tells me whatever Barba's got prepared won't be very fun, so… I'm going to call it a night."

The brunette began walking away, her jaw firmly set and her knuckles turning as white as snow. She just wanted the day to be over, not that tomorrow was going to be much better, but there was always a chance. She couldn't muster enough to engage in verbal combat with Elliot… which is why she was less than thrilled to hear him talking to her. "Liv, wait." His keys jingled in his pocket as he jogged up to meet her, still careful to keep a distance. When she didn't turn around, he accepted the fact that he'd be speaking to the back of her head. "If… if you need anything, you just—" he paused as if he'd forgotten what he was going to say. "You just let me know, ok?"

"Yeah, sure," Olivia fibbed, her body aching like nobody's business. If she didn't lay down soon, she might have just collapsed right there.

Mentally berating himself for telling her, Elliot never revealed his self-disappointment. "Goodnight."

"Night." With that, Olivia disappeared into her own room and shut the door behind her, just in time for the tears she'd been holding in to fall freely down her face. The twin-sized bed was calling her name, as if it knew how much she needed to unwind. She left the overhead off and let the lights from the city guide her to the mattress. Using the blanket to muffle her cries, she slid beneath the covers and curled into a ball, something no one would ever find out about. It wasn't Lewis's scar that was haunting her right then; it was harsh truth that things would never be the same— that no one would ever treat her the same again.

Meanwhile, Stabler was kicking himself for causing such distress. He never should have uttered a word; he should've let Olivia think he'd been in Hawaii or something. It would have been better than telling the truth. Unfortunately, this was one of those instances in which honesty wasn't the best policy.

Once the leftovers had been put in the fridge and the packagings had been cleared away, Elliot changed into his sweats and brushed his teeth. He made it halfway to his own room when he entered the living space. The pink couch Olivia had been sitting on when he got back seemed to be in need of an occupant. And, the television set just happened to be across from it. Not to mention the fact that it was the midpoint between his bedroom and Olivia's. So, Elliot did what any good partner would do: he planted himself securely on the slightly-worn cushions, turned the TV on mute, and served as warden of the suite. With the sound completely cut off and his head on a lumpy, circular pillow, Stabler fell asleep watching the sports channel. Even when he woke up in the middle of the night to go the bathroom, he chose the couch over a bed. He was going to watch out for Olivia. No matter what.