A/N: Thanks for all the reviews. Enjoy the chapter.

Disclaimer: Dick Wolf and NBC own them...for now.

Regret

He rolls over, half awake. Finding he's alone, Elliot opens his eyes. Olivia is sitting on the side of the bed, feet dangling, hands gripping the lip of the mattress. Her head is tilted toward the floor. Hair hangs around her face, hiding it from him. The rest of her is uncovered, naked and beautiful.

Elliot doesn't know what to expect from her right now. He feels like everything they've ever learned about each other doesn't apply anymore. They're different; things between them have changed.

He wonders if she feels as confused as he does now that it's happened. He always said the day he slept with his partner was the day he requested a new one. Olivia probably has a similar mantra. But now that he's actually done it—violated his only rule—he doesn't think he can follow through on his punishment. He can't leave her, especially not now.

Elliot can't stop looking at her. He slides over, behind her and places kisses along her shoulder, up her neck, then back again.

No reaction. Olivia doesn't push him away but doesn't encourage him either.

Her indifference unsettles him. His kisses stop.

Olivia silently gets up and walks to her bathroom. There's no glance over the shoulder, no 'I'll be right back.' Not a goddamn word. She doesn't attempt to hide her body from him, but he senses that this might be the last time he sees her backside without anything covering it.

Elliot stands. Thoughts flood his mind, pummel him with consequences.

What the fuck does he do now? Wait for her to come back and talk about it? Make her breakfast? Grab his clothes, get outta there and pretend like nothing happened? Rational thought is difficult because he can still smell her all around him, on him.

Finally, Elliot gets dressed, folds the crumpled sheets at the foot of the bed, then stacks the pillows near the headboard. In the kitchen he doesn't find eggs or bacon, so he makes coffee for both of them.

By the time it's done brewing, Olivia is out of the shower and dressed. She comes out of her bedroom, towel drying her hair. She tries to force her lips into a smile, but the attempt fails. Olivia can't hold on to the illusion of being happy.

He still hasn't thought of anything to say to her.

It doesn't make any sense, this moment they're having. He doesn't understand how he can have such an awkward moment with the woman he's normally so comfortable with. Oh right, he's just had sex with her, his partner. Shit.

"Take a breath, El. It's okay."

She senses his uneasiness, tries to comfort him. The calmness in her voice escapes him; the tension in his shoulders remains, even after he takes the suggested breath.

"I don't know what to say." He avoids eye contact.

Olivia doesn't have trouble coming up with words. Something about that bothers him."We know this shouldn't have happened."

"But it did," he says.

"It's not going to happen again."

Elliot's heart sinks a little at her decided tone. Even if she's right, she doesn't have to be so final about it.

"I was horny and vulnerable. Stupid, really," she mumbles.

She's putting all the blame on herself. It's not right. Somehow, he's at fault here.

Because he's been picturing her beneath him instead of his wife for years. Because he wanted this to happen. Because he loves her.

"Don't blame yourself."

"Elliot, you're married. I know that. I should've stopped."

He hates that every conversation he's had on relationships recently circles around to remind him that he's married. Yeah, he got the memo. He knows.

"I shouldn't have taken advantage of you. Not after what Porter did."

Olivia looks stricken, like he's just slapped her by saying Porter's name. Dammit. He wishes he could rewind this whole conversation and start over.

"I'm sorry," he starts. "I shouldn't have…"

She holds up a hand, smiles weakly. "It's fine," she says. "I've dealt with these kinds of things before."

Elliot wonders if she means having her heart broken by an egotistical asshole or having one night stands that she regrets the following morning. It might be wrong, but he hopes it's the former.

"So, what do we do?"

Olivia sighs. "We go back to work, together, and we forget about it."

"Liv…"

She shakes her head, drops her eyes to the floor. "Don't. Just don't."

There's no point in trying to argue. It's what needs to be done.

**

As they sip at their lukewarm coffee, Elliot asks, "What am I gonna tell Kathy?"

Olivia nearly chokes. "El, you can't."

"But…"

"You wanna stay married, don't you?"

He leaves that question hang between them because he hasn't been sure of the answer in a long time.

Olivia refuses to let her partner's marriage die. "She doesn't need to know. Why hurt her?"

Too. That's the word she doesn't say but he hears it in her voice, clear as crystal. Elliot pushes the issue of Kathy's feelings aside to focus on the woman in front of him.

"Olivia, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I'm fine," she insists, but she doesn't say he's wrong, doesn't excuse or forgive him.

"Why're you lying?"

"I'm not. I just don't wanna talk about this anymore."

Her evasion frustrates him because she's never open with him, not as open as she should be. She refuses to trust him. With her feelings. With her relationships. With everything except her life which, ironically, is the only thing she does trust him with.

"Why don't you trust me?" he asks. His question makes her face go pale and at first he doesn't understand why.

Then—in a hard, unfeeling, recorded tone—she says, "Our feelings don't matter."

Elliot's hand starts to reach for her, to comfort her, to correct her. Their feelings do matter. But she turns away, moving out of his range, deliberately avoiding his touch.

Finished with the conversation, Olivia heads back to her bedroom, quietly closing the door to tell Elliot he's not welcome to follow.

Elliot grinds his bruised knuckles against her kitchen countertop, wincing in pain. But he pushes harder because he deserves to be in pain right now.

Fucking idiot, he thinks.

**

When she comes out her mascara's a little smudged. That trademark smile—empty, cheerless and small—is secured on her face. The transformation breaks his heart. Suddenly she's normal Olivia again. It's like she's poured a jar of white-out over the memory of last night, of this morning's conversation.

She grabs her jacket. "Ready?"

To go? To accept the deal? To forget?

He nods.

A/N: Please let me know what you thought. Thanks!