A/N: I want to thank everyone who has reviewed this story, especially new reviewers! It means more than you know to see that people are reading and responding. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy. And thanks again Chels for all the support and proofing.

Disclaimer: I still don't own them. But if NBC ever goes under, I'm putting my bid in for the rights.

Rejected

Vazquez requests a lawyer as soon as the DNA comes back, proving that he molested his stepson. Elliot's disappointed that they don't get to interrogate the bastard, but maybe that's for the best. Alex will have his head if he doesn't play by the rules, follow procedure and keep his hands off the prick that hit his partner.

It's been a long week.

Elliot finds Olivia slipping into her coat. She looks as tired as he feels.

"Want a ride?"

"Yeah."

**

As the car starts and stops with traffic, Elliot tries not to think about what happened the last time he drove her home. He wonders if she's fighting the memories too. When he glances at her, her face is blank.

"Penny for your thoughts," he offers.

"I hope he calls."

"Who?"

"Henry."

"The doctor?" He thought she had just been teasing him the other day, trying to get him riled up. He didn't realize she was serious. "Liv…why'd you give him your number?"

"I'm not allowed?"

"It's not like you."

She shifts in her seat, pulls at the seatbelt across her chest. "Oh no. Elliot, I'm not doing this."

"Doing what? It's a valid comment. You only just met the man."

"I'm not explaining myself to you."

"Liv…"

She refuses to answer him and doesn't speak for the last few blocks. Elliot can't figure out why she's making this such a big deal. He's only asking for an explanation.

He throws the car in park outside of her building and turns to face her. Olivia is already shutting her door, walking around the back of the car. Elliot mumbles a few curses and lifts the latch of the driver's side door. He wants an answer from her.

His door is only cracked open when Olivia slams it shut, almost crushing his fingers. She stands outside the car and Elliot lowers the window so she can speak. The top half of her body comes down so that she can look him in the eyes.

"I shouldn't have to say anything."

"But?"

"I'm moving on, El. Because I can't do this with you. I need to get back to normal. Don't you?"

He stumbles for a response, but can't come up with one. Olivia straightens and walks away.

Elliot waits until she's inside her apartment building before leaving. A part of him agrees with her. He'd like them to get back to normal too.

If he only knew what that meant.

**

When he comes in on Monday, Olivia's already at her computer laboring over the weekend pile-up. He places the coffee he brought her on top of a stack of files.

"Morning." He waits to see if she'll accept his apology.

She smiles, a genuine smile that reaches her eyes. "Thank you."

Peace offering accepted, Elliot let's himself breathe. Step one to normalcy: complete.

Things start to change, to return to the way they were before Dean Porter interrupted their lives, before they slept together, before Olivia gave Henry Reed her phone number.

Elliot starts spending more time at the office and avoiding home. Kathy bitches but it doesn't bother him. He's used to it. It's normal.

At work, Elliot and Olivia get back to business as usual; coffee runs increase in frequency and they discuss evidence and profile possible suspects over lunch. They work harder than they ever have and when Cragen commends them on a job well done, Elliot knows they've come as close to normal as they're going to get.

Olivia never says whether Reed called her. She hides her personal life from him, acts like she doesn't have a social life. But that's normal too.

Everything is normal. Perfectly. Fucking. Normal.

Elliot is more miserable than ever.

**

At the end of the week, Elliot shuts off his computer, waiting for Olivia to come back from the bathroom to see if she wants a ride home. After glancing at his watch, he realizes that she's been gone for a while.

He sees the heels first. His gaze moves up, following her bare leg to the knee. Black chiffon sways with the movement of her hips.

When she reaches her desk, he catches a whiff of the perfume she's wearing; she smells like sex and power and woman. His head spins with the pheromones.

Then he sees cleavage and he coughs violently to cover up the groan that escapes him.

"El, what's wrong?"

"You're beautiful." He can't pretend that he doesn't notice. Not with the way he's practically ogling her.

She blushes at his scrutiny. "Oh, well…I'm outta here."

"What's the occasion?"

"I'm meeting Henry tonight."

He's a little thrown by that revelation. "Do you know anything about this guy?"

"I know he's a surgeon—"

"Jack the Ripper was a surgeon."

He can tell she's trying to remain passive. "Henry's a pediatric surgeon. I think I'm safe."

"You thought you were safe with Porter too."

One stab after another. He doesn't know what's come over him.

Olivia grabs her coat and heads for the elevators. She's running. Like she always does.

Elliot catches her before she hits the down arrow. His hand closes around her forearm, but she pulls out of his grasp.

"Liv, I'm sorry—"

She steps toward him and Elliot realizes that following her was not a good idea. If glares could kill, he'd be lying on the floor right now, rasping for his last breaths. He fights to stand his ground as she invades his space. She's so close to him that their noses nearly touch.

"Elliot, I don't know why you're so goddamn jealous. Of Dean. Of Henry. Of every man who gives me the time of day. But it has to stop."

"Olivia—"

"No. Just listen. . . .I am trying my damndest to get over Dean Porter. And your bullshit is not helping."

Stepping back a little, she shoves her fingers through her hair. Elliot knows she's fighting to rein in her anger. Her eyes dart between him and the elevator doors, willing them to open so she can leave, so they don't have to have this talk.

"Liv," he starts again, but she's not done speaking.

"Why don't you want me to be happy?"

"I do."

"No, you don't. You'd support me if you did."

"I just want you to be safe. Smart."

"So I'm stupid for trying to have a life?"

"That's not—"

"Maybe I want to be stupid, El. Maybe I want to live a little. Maybe tonight I'll drink too much and invite Henry upstairs. And it won't be for coffee."

Elliot's head fills with images. Why is she trying to bait him? His mouth hangs open, but he's not sure whether he's angry or confused.

She sighs and raises a hand to squeeze her temples. "God, Elliot. It's me. You know I'd never do that. I'm sorry."

He doesn't believe it. She's comforting him. He's the one attacking her character, her decisions, and she's comforting him. Sometimes he just doesn't understand her.

The elevator doors have opened and she's stepped inside. He stares at her, debating whether or not to get in and try to apologize, but she's shaking her head slightly, as if to say he should let it go. Let her go.

As the doors close she says, "If I need a bailout, I'll call you."

A/N: Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought. I'd also be interested to know where you think this is going. :)