Noah begged to stay up late, and she couldn't find a good reason to tell him no on a Friday night. She bided her time, nervously cleaning her kitchen and reorganizing her cups until Noah started nodding off on the couch. At the first head bob she hurried over to shuffle him to bed. "Bed." She said simply.

He nodded, eyes sleepy. "Mm Kay." He mumbled. She followed him to his room, and made sure he was settled before she stepped out, and left the door cracked behind her.

It was pushing 11pm, and she decided to ready herself for bed before calling. She knew he'd still be awake and she felt a little bad over how late it had gotten. It was much later than she normally called.

After her nightly routine she slipped between her sheets and laid her head on her pillow. She hit his contact information and lifted the phone to her ear. Like always he picked up after the first ring.

"Hey," he greeted. She could hear the smile in his voice. Despite all the heavy, he still was happy talking m to her.

"Sorry it's so late," she began to apologize.

"It's fine Liv. I told you to call whenever, and I meant it." He reassured her.

"Noah wanted to stay up and I couldn't give him a good reason why he couldn't."

"What? you didn't want to tell him you're secretly talking to a man he barely knows," he said in the most salacious way possible. "On the phone…late at night?"

She laughed lightly. "I'm not sure it's as scandalous as all that…" she remarked dryly.

"Sure it is," she could almost see his suggestive eyebrow raise. "I'm sure you're laying in bed, preparing to confess your deepest darkest secrets," he teased. "How much wine did you drink to prepare for this conversation?"

"Not nearly enough, apparently," she said cheekily.

He laughed out loud at that. "I'm glad you called," he admitted. "Today ended up being…depressing to say the least."

"Dare I ask why?" She knew if it was case related she wouldn't get much.

"Yeah. It's fine, Jet's just…" he sighed. "Whelan…I don't know. They weren't together as far as I know, but she hasn't been, I don't know, herself I guess. I keep telling her to take leave but she's pretty stubborn and she's insisting she's fine."

"Losing someone in your squad is…it's rough whether you are involved with the person or not." She had some not so fond memories of Mike Dodds.

"Sounds like you have some experience with that…" Elliot lightly prodded.

"I do, and that time it was my fault that a good officer died." Even with therapy, the ghost of guilt still followed her.

"I really doubt it was your fault. Stuff happens. It's part of the job. It's the risk we take everyday." He said it like it was a simple fact of life, and not a complicated issue that often surrounded their lives.

"Sure, but I hold some responsibility for what happened. There's no way around it."

"Alright then, tell me what happens and I'll decide." He pressed.

She sighed, "You're just going to take my side no matter what…"

"Till the day I die, Benson."

The sincerity in his voice brought tears to her eyes. This story hurt in a different way than many of the others. She was the superior officer, and her carelessness cost someone his life. From that point on, she never approached a domestic violence situation quite the same. It was another event that changed her. It made her less reckless and more careful, with her life and the lives of those who worked with her. "His name was Mike Dodds. He was the deputy chief's son."

"That complicates things."

"It did. I resisted having him on our team, but there wasn't anything I could really do about it, and in the end he was a damn good sargeant."

"What exactly happened?" Of course his voice was nonjudgmental and understanding.

"We were closing in on a corrections officer who was a serial rapist. He targeted women within the system, and he often terrorized them once the we're released." Her everyday life was filled with men who terrorized women. Lots of cases blurred together. She remembered every victim, and tried to forget the offenders, but some refused to go away.

She sighed. She hated this story. She hated every part of it. "Dodds and I went out to the guy's house to help get his wife and kids out of the home, and well, you know how DV cases get. He was there and it escalated quickly. I prioritized getting the kids out, and luckily they," she pinched her eyes shut. "I got them out. We waited for the mother, and we knew something was wrong. I tried to get in the house but the door was locked."

"He shot Dodds didn't he," he guessed.

"Yeah," she affirmed quietly.

"I'm not being patronizing Liv, but I really don't see how it was your fault."

"I was the superior officer El," she tried to stuff her anger. Not at Elliot, but at herself. "I should have never left him in there alone. I should have stayed, and he should have taken the kids out."

"You know as well as anyone that sometimes protocol goes out the window in certain situations. We don't have the luxury of contemplating every choice. Sometimes we just act, and there was no way you could have anticipated what happened."

"I should have," she argued stubbornly. He wasn't there. He didn't know.

"Okay, if that's the case, tell me what should have happened." She knew where he was going with this but she played into it anyway.

"Dodds should have taken the kids," she began.

"Leaving you alone with a dangerous sociopath. Continue." His voice was incredulous at the absurdity of the statement.

"I had more experience working…with men like him." Her voice weakened as the memory of a different sociopath crossed her mind. The worst kind of sociopath. The sadistic kind.

"Maybe," his voice caught when he asked, "But what if it didn't make a difference? What if," his voice weakened and she knew she would feel the same if he was in a situation like that. "Liv. What if you couldn't talk him down and he took a shot at you? I've seen you talk down a lot of unhinged people, but it doesn't always turn out good."

"I had more negotiating skills. If I failed, I don't know…Better me than Dodds. I should have done better."

"You've got to be…" he started but his rise of anger stifled his words. "How could you even think that?" She only heard his angry breathing on the other end and she knew he was trying to get a grip before he spoke again. When he did, his voice was cooler, more controlled. "What about Noah?" He asked simply. "Do you think that he would have been better off without you?"

He unintentionally harped on the strand of real guilt she felt over the situation. She felt guilty for being relieved that it was Dodds instead of her. Relieved that Noah wouldn't lose another parent. His only parent. Relieved that while the man had a fiancé and a father, he wasn't the sole caregiver of an already orphaned child. She felt guilty for her relief. Much more than the guilt over Dodds death. It was the relief and it's accompanying guilt still plagued her.

She answered with the frank honesty she only trusted to her psychologist. "Don't you think I thought about that? Don't you think I'm smacked with guilt every time I feel relief that he died and I survived? Even if the relief was on account of my son, it doesn't change the fact that I valued my life over someone who worked under me."

He groaned with frustration. "Fine, let's say that you're a crappy person, which you aren't, on any level." He paused, "Do you ever wonder if Dodds intentionally put himself in that position? For your sake? For Noah's? I don't know the guy, but he sounds like the kind of person who would sacrifice everything for the life of another."

"He would have," she agreed softly.

"He knew what he was doing. I know because I would do the exact same thing for a member of my team," he said vehemently. He continued, "You are probably better at that whole mindfulness and self awareness shit than I am, but unless my therapist is full of shit, she says feelings are feelings and they aren't really good or bad. Our actions are." He paused, letting his words sink in. "You felt relief, but I'm sure you've never intentionally thrown another officer under the bus. Your actions matter, Liv. You learned from the experience, you changed the way you operated, but at some point you gotta let the guilt go."

She felt a little bit like bringing out the pot calling the kettle black, but he was right of course. "I feel like for the most part I have, but sometimes, like when I hear about someone else losing a team member, it comes back to bite me in the ass."

"That's fair. I can understand that." His voice dropped with sympathy.

-000-

He wasn't sure if that was the story she intended on telling him, but it definitely helped him understand many of the changes Olivia experienced in his absence. When he came home, she was the same Olivia in a lot of ways, but there was a part of her that felt closed off. He always assumed it had to do with his unexpected abandonment, but it was becoming clear that he wasn't responsible for all of the walls she built while he was away. There was a decade of experiences that hardened her in some ways, and softened her in others. And he wanted to understand it all.

He felt compelled to ask her something, but he wondered if he overstepped when the words fell out of his mouth. "Will you talk to Jet?" He instantly realized it might be an uncomfortable ask, but Olivia was good with people, even with people as guarded as she was.

She didn't hesitate, and that was one of the reasons he loved her. Even when the situation could be awkward, she barreled right in and did what was necessary. "I'll talk to her, but do you think she will talk to me? More than she talks to you?"

"Maybe," he wasn't confident at all, but he didn't think it would hurt anything. "We're close, and she trusts me, but our dynamic is…"

"Kind of father/daughter?" She guessed. Perceptive as always.

"Yeah. Honestly she reminds me…" he thought the better of what he was about to say.

"Reminds you of what?" She asked, interest piqued.

"A little like you I guess," he rushed the rest out, "I mean, obviously you two are really different, but there is a lot about her that reminds me of you from twenty years ago." he felt weird admitting it but it was true.

"Well twenty years ago, I'm not sure I would have been open to sharing my personal grief with a complete stranger…"

"Probably not," he admitted. "But you didn't have an Olivia Benson in your life."

He worried he said something wrong when he was met with silence, but when she spoke he felt like maybe he said everything just right.

"I had you though," she said, her voice soft. "At least for a while."

"Liv, you've always had me. I know I left," he swallowed his emotion, "I know I hurt you, but from the moment I met you, I was yours."

His heart pounded and his eyes watered when she finally said the words he'd been dying to hear for as long as he could remember.

Her voice was soft, barely a whisper. "I love you too."