Okay...so this took me longer to write than I anticipated. I ended up dividing it into two chapters, so the actual conversation is in the next chapter. Again, your reviews mean the world to me and motivate me to keep on with this story. I am so glad most readers seem to be enjoying it. Thanks!

Elliot stood outside the station house and looked at the building. He hadn't thought it would be such a big deal to go in. After all, he was happy with his new job. He didn't miss being a detective and he didn't long to go back to it. Being a cop was never his dream, it was just something he did. He wasn't like Olivia. She had a calling to do that job…she felt an emotional obligation to the victims…a connection to them that forced her to take on more than she should at times. He wasn't like that. More often than not the job had made him angry at the world and distrustful of the general population. It had pushed him into a dark place that he never wanted to go back to, and now, the thought of walking in that building flooded his mind with memories he'd tried to forget.

He almost called her, asked her to come down and meet him at the car, but he didn't feel right doing that. He'd promised to pick her up at the station, not down on the street and he was a man of his word. He walked into the building and onto the elevator, pushing the button without thinking, the routine burned in his subconscious as if nothing had ever changed. Hearing the familiar ding as the doors slid open, he walked onto the floor and realized things had changed, much more than he could have imagined. No Munch, shouting out ridiculous theories with his dark humor, no Cragen yelling out orders, no Liv sitting at her desk biting on her pencil while she thought through the latest case…and no sign he had ever been there. He didn't recognize anyone.

He felt his pulse race as he looked around the room, flashing back to his last day there…the day he'd killed a teenage girl who had only wanted to take revenge on the man who had raped and killed her mother…the girl who had no one to depend on but them…and yet he had killed her. He had killed her for avenging her mother's death after all the times he'd overstepped the bounds of the law to protect his family. If she deserved to die, maybe he did too. He couldn't get the picture out of his mind…the bullets flying across the room, the blood…everywhere, Olivia's eyes staring at him with terror and disbelief.

"Sir…" he was pulled from his thoughts by the blonde with the slight southern drawl that was standing in front of him. He wondered how long she had been there. "Sir…can you hear me? Can I help you?"

"Uhm…yeah, I'm sorry…my mind was wandering, I guess," he forced a smile. "I'm here to see Detective Benson."

"Do you mean Sergeant Benson?" the woman asked with an uncertainty that was apparent in the way she spoke to him as she looked him over.

Elliot nodded, reminding himself once again that things had changed in the few short years he'd been gone, "Yes…Sergeant Benson…Olivia…I'm here to see her."

"I'm Detective Rollins," she said quickly. "Maybe I can help you…did you need to make a report?"

"No, I need to see Olivia," he sighed. "She knows I'm coming…she's expecting me…"

"You must be Stabler…" another detective jumped up from his desk and walked over extending his hand. "Nick Amaro…it's nice to finally meet you." Elliot shook his hand, looking him over…Olivia's new partner…the one who had replaced him. He was younger…probably better looking than him, although he doubted Olivia had cared much about that. He stared as Nick flashed a knowing grin at him and he wondered just how much Olivia had said about him to this guy. "She said you were picking her up for lunch. She's in her office."

"Cragen's old office?" Elliot asked just to be sure.

"Yeah…I can take you there," Amanda offered.

"I know where it is," he smiled. "Thanks…" He walked past them, listening as they whispered things he couldn't quite make out. He probably shouldn't have come there. He wondered how Olivia managed to work there among these strangers every single day…but then again they weren't strangers to her. They were younger, less experienced, but they were her friends…at least he thought they were. He hoped they were.

He pushed open the door to her office, concerned when he saw her head down on the desk. He knew she hadn't slept well the night before, but the fact that she was still so exhausted worried him. He wondered if they should talk to the doctor about it. Being tired during pregnancy was normal, he knew that…but Olivia was more than tired. She was physically exhausted…and while he suspected her age had something to do with that, he didn't want to mention it and risk upsetting her. "Liv…" he walked over to the desk, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Wake up…"

She lifted her head and looked at him, "El?" she sighed. "Oh God…how long have I been asleep?"

"I don't know," he answered, pulling crumbled cracker pieces out of her hair.

She reached up, running her fingers through her hair, embarrassed by the mess. He leaned in to kiss her, but she stopped him, "Don't…" she pushed him away. "I just threw up a little bit ago, and I haven't brushed my teeth yet."

"Oh…" he looked at the trashcan with disgust. "Are you sure you still want to go to lunch? Maybe I should take you home…"

She shook her head, "No…I'm fine. I want to go to lunch." She stood up and pulled a toothbrush and toothpaste from her desk drawer. "Let me go to the restroom and clean up a little." She scooted the crushed package of crackers into the trash can and pulled the bag out. "I'll throw this away, then give me ten minutes in the ladies room…and I'll be back." She looked at the chair across from her desk, "Have a seat."

He sat down, looking around the room while he waited for her. She hadn't changed it much since Cragen had been there. If anything it looked less inviting than it did before. The room was practically empty. He noticed the picture frame on her desk and remembered that she used to have a picture of the two of them. He picked it up, turning to look at the photo. It was a picture of Noah, his face covered in cake from his first birthday…of course that was the picture she'd want to look at all day. Any mother would, but he couldn't help but realize that all traces of him had disappeared from the place. He didn't know why he felt bad about it. He didn't want to be there anyway.

"I'm ready," she walked in and threw her toothbrush in the desk drawer. "Where are we eating?"

He stood up and walked over to her, "Are you sure you want to go eat? You said you just threw up?"

"And now I'm hungry," she insisted. "Nick says I'm sick because the baby wants me to remember she's here," she laughed. "I guess since she's made herself known, she wants to eat now."

"Okay," he laughed, leaning in and kissing her. "Let's go feed our little girl. Anything you want…but no tacos."

"Deal," she smiled, grabbing his hand and walking out the door.