A/N: Hey everyone. Thank you for all of your comments on the last chapter. I know it's been a while, but it's been a rough week. Here's part eleven. Things should start falling into place. Enjoy!

Thank again, Chels! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own SVU. Dick Wolf does though. And NBC.

Rectification

Personal issues and arguments are pushed aside for the rest of March. It's all about the job and tracking down a serial killer who kidnaps and rapes little girls before murdering them.

Elliot and Olivia spend more time crashing in the crib and exhausting possible leads than they do anywhere else. But he's fine with the long hours because Olivia's with him, not Reed.

He prays for the stress of the case to put a permanent wedge between his partner and her fiancé.

But divine assistance is a tricky thing.

Just as he's beginning to think her engagement spoiled on its own, the ring reappears. And this time, it's on display for all to see.

"Here's the report on Adele Ryder," Munch says, handing Olivia a folder. "My, my. What have we here? Is this what I think it is?"

Her embarrassed expression almost looks real.

"It's an engagement ring, John," Elliot says.

Munch shrugs. "I was going for blood diamond. Same thing, I s'pose. My advice? Get out while you can."

"What?" she asks.

He turns to Elliot. "Has she learned nothing from our failed attempts at wedded bliss? We detectives aren't built for lasting relationships. Especially marriage."

The man has a point.

"El was married for twenty-five years," Olivia argues.

"But he cheated. He was married before he even enrolled in the Academy."

She's still coming up with a response when Fin approaches, coat in hand and ready to go home.

"Olivia's engaged," Munch announces to his partner before he can say goodbye.

"Really?"

Olivia blushes. "Yes, really. Why is that so odd?"

"Kinda quick," Fin says.

"Got that right," Elliot mumbles, earning a glare from Olivia.

"Unless any of you have something nice to say, I think I'm gonna finish my report now."

"It's just unexpected," Fin says. "Doc's a lucky guy."

"How about a celebratory drink?" Munch suggests.

While they discuss going for drinks, Elliot quietly leaves. He's learned that alcohol and jealousy don't mix.

The buzzer to his apartment sounds as he's pulling on a pair of jeans. He throws the wet towel over his bare shoulder and goes to the front door.

"Yeah?" he asks through the intercom.

"It's me."

His response is to buzz her in.

A minute later there's a soft knock on the door. He opens it halfway. She doesn't make a move to come inside and he doesn't invite her to.

"I got your new address from Maureen. She's worried about us. Says we're not communicating."

"Oh yeah?"

"Apparently the fact I didn't know where you live is telling."

One corner of his mouth tugs upward at the thought of his daughter psychoanalyzing them. "She's a smart girl."

Then he turns and she follows him inside, joins him on the couch.

"It's a dump," he says when he catches her surveying his apartment.

Olivia just nods, looks at her hands. She takes the ring off, rolls it between her fingers as she speaks. "I didn't go for drinks."

"Oh?"

"You just disappeared."

"If you're looking for an apology—"

"I'm not."

She confuses him sometimes. But, for once, she's coming to him. It's taken her a month, but he thinks she's ready to talk about it.

He sends up a prayer for courage, asks, "What're you looking for then?"

"I want the truth."

" 'Bout what?"

"Why you're against me getting married. That's why you left."

Their communication may be lacking, but she still gets him.

Elliot considers his options. He can't say I love you. He won't say I can't stand the thought of you with anyone but me. These phrases don't translate.

"I just can't support it, Liv. It's not the answer you want. But it's the only one I can give without. . ."

"Without making it complicated."

He nods. They're riding the same wavelength again.

She's sitting so close, almost touching him. The silence breeds unbearable pressure, makes him sweat.

He tries to explain himself again. "It's more than jealousy. It's. . ."

Her lips twitch. "Complicated?"

Their convoluted language makes perfect sense within their bubble.

"Yeah," he says. "Why's it so complicated?"

Elliot knows why. Because the rules say a person can't be in love with their partner. And because he's single and she's not.

"El. . ."

"Does it have to be that way?"

"We're partners."

His heart rate spikes because her answer is not I love Henry.

"You know that's an excuse," he says. "Has been for years. So was my marriage."

"But you're not married now." It's a quiet observation.

"Neither are you, Liv."

Her mouth falls open and Elliot remembers that God helps those who help themselves. He leans in—threading his fingers through her hair—and covers her lips with his.

Elliot hears a soft thud and then Olivia's hands are on his chest, returning the kiss with a passion that's equally as intense as his.

They shed articles of clothing as they feel their way to the bedroom, their bodies never completely separated. Their skin is hot despite the cool air around them.

Olivia falls into the middle of his bed, right where she belongs.

Elliot's thrusts make the bed's headboard hit the wall, and he smiles inwardly.

His neighbors won't be getting any sleep tonight.

Olivia's a screamer.

A/N: As always thanks for reading. And if chapter twelve isn't up by this time next week, you have my permission to send me hate mail. ;D