Olivia smiles through her happy tears as she reads Elliot's letter propped up in bed with her fingers tangling in the small chain around her neck.

She knows this man. The beer-drinking, football-loving, brash and reckless man. The dedicated and hardworking man who loves his god and fights for what he believes is right, even at deep personal costs to himself.

And now she's coming to know him as the sweet-spoken, sentimental man who writes love letters, customizes jewelry, and kisses like the devil. Olivia knows that Elliot has always been a man who loves so hard, but now, he gets to love her in the open.

It feels nice.

More than nice, really.

For once she feels happy. It's a feeling that she's been working so hard to let herself feel, and to feel it just like this—without reservation and apprehension.

The fears lurking in the back of her mind feel weaker, as if they have less of a hold on her. As if she has room to breathe and hope again.

Talking things through with Lindstrom helped. He pointed out what is rational thought and what isn't. He reminded her that it was normal to feel scared and uncomfortable when lowering your defenses and letting someone in. Especially when it was someone who had hurt you so deeply in the past. He also reminded her, though, that if she wants Elliot, she's going to have to lower each of her defenses and be vulnerable.

And when she thinks of everything Elliot has done, she realizes his actions are backing up his words. He has gone first, more than once. He's put himself out there so suddenly and boldly with his letter, writing her first. Before that he had tried to push them to be more, only backing off when she asked. He hasn't given up on her, though. He's given her space while working for her in the background, designing the most gorgeous necklace and biding his time.

Olivia wants to follow his lead on this. She has trusted him in the past. She followed every one of his instincts for 13 years as his partner. This should be no different.

It is different, of course.

But he's had more experience with this—love and relationships. Granted, his marriage was rocky at times. But he knows how to love and fight and forgive. He knows how to put in the work, day in and day out, for and with another person. He knows to sacrifice for love. It feels good to be on this side of things for once—to be the one he's sacrificing for.

Olivia knows they have so much more to work through. She is going to have to open up about her life during the ten years he was gone. She's not sure where she should start. There is just so much, both personally and professionally. And so much of it she'd like to leave in the past. But they will have to touch on it all, starting with her response to his letter.

"Did you find a place for Eli?" Tia asks when Elliot returns to work mid-week. Elliot had learned his lesson years ago when traveling between the States and Italy about taking an extra day or two off to account for jet lag. The extra sleep still doesn't stop him from starting his day off with a quad shot of espresso.

Clicking through his email, Elliot answers, "Yeah. It's a small place, but I think it's good enough for him and his friend."

"And Olivia?" Tia asks with a grin curling her lips.

He turns to look at her, his eyes squinted again. He's trusted her in the past with tidbits about Olivia, but now that he's seen Olivia and held her and kissed her, Elliot feels more protective of what they are building. He wants to hold it all tightly against his chest and protect it from the world.

"What about Olivia?"

"Did you see her while you were home?"

Elliot nods. "I did."

"And?" Tia pushes.

"And?" he echoes.

Tia huffs frustratedly and sits on the edge of his desk. "Elliot, you cannot hide your feelings from me. So stop trying."

He looks around his temporary squad room, and happy that everyone seems to be busy and not paying attention, he leans back in his chair so he can look up at her. "She and her son joined us—my mom, Eli, and one of my daughters—for dinner one night."

"That's all? Two months gone and you shared a single meal. What about your love letters; all the sweet talk?"

He tucks his lips, thinking of how to respond. "We are… uh, taking it slow."

"She is or you both are?"

"Both… I think." Elliot rubs his hand over his head. "I mean, I'm here right now. We can't start too much while I'm here."

"Ah, I see." Tia winks at him. "You didn't want to know what you were missing."

"Je-sus woman," he exhales and shakes his head, leaning forward so he can return to his emails. "Let's just work."

"Yes," Tia agrees happily, knocking on his desk before she stands. "The sooner we can crack this, the sooner you can get back to your sweetie darling."

Grinning, Elliot mumbles under his breath, "Olivia is no one's sweetie darling."

Thursday afternoon has Elliot hiding out with a young buck on this case. They have been sitting in a parked, unmarked van waiting for one of his UCs for two hours in an easy silence. Aiden's smart; that's how he's part of the team. But he's a cocky hotshot who never knows when to shut up. He spends most of the day in the breakroom bragging to other men on the team about his "conquests," which Elliot believes to either be made up or paid for.

"So, what's going on between you and Leonetti?" Aiden asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Apparently two hours is all he can go without shit-talking.

Elliot refuses to look at Aiden, his eyes out the window, trained on the meet spot. "Nothing. We're friends."

Aiden scoffs. "None of my friends look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like they want to buy a ticket for my ride."

"Nice, Aiden," Elliot scoffs. "That's really nice."

"I'm serious."

Turning to face his colleague, Elliot's brows furrow. "So am I. Tia and I have been friends for years—just friends," he says evenly before turning his head back to the window. "Maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you'd know what it's like to be friends with a woman."

"Why would I want to be friends with a woman?"

Elliot can feel his blood pressure rising with agitation at this young man. "Alright. If you don't shut up, I'm going to push you out of this car."

Aiden grins, eyes wide as if he's won a prize. "What? Do you already have a woman, Stabler? Have you been holding out on us?"

"I'm not answering that."

"So you do. You are from where again? East coast, right? Is she waiting for you to return? Is she sending you naughty texts and photos? Come on man, share a little."

Elliot still doesn't answer. Instead, he takes three deep breaths in his nose and exhales them slowly out of his mouth and focuses his attention on a couple seated outdoors at a small cafe half a block away. They look happy. The man is chatting animatedly about something while the woman sips her drink.

Aiden either doesn't pick up on the tension rolling off of Elliot or he decided that today was the day he wanted to risk his pretty face by poking the bear. "It's not like she would know."

"Know what?" Elliot asks.

"If you and Tia partook in some off-duty activities."

"God, man, you really can't help yourself, can you?"

Aiden just shrugs and looks out the windshield, eyes roaming the meet-up spot for their guy. "I'm just saying."

Elliot looks back at Aiden again. He's contemplating whether the write-up would be worth socking this asshole right in the jaw. As badly as he wants to, he knows that if he messes up this meeting with their UC, he could compromise the case. And worse than being fired would be being the reason this case is delayed another six weeks.

He takes another deep breath in through his nose. "Well, stop just saying."

"Fuck. What did your woman do to you? Take your balls and store them in a jar on top of her refrigerator?"

Elliot can feel his anger creeping up his neck to his cheeks and senses the way his nose is flaring. He knows Aiden has to be able to see it, too.

"You'll shut up now if you know what's good for you," Elliot says through gritted teeth, his jaw tight and ticking.

"Really, Stabler? You can't handle a little guy talk?"

Elliot focuses on his breathing once more, counting to three on the inhale and to five on the exhale. He does this three times before Aiden looks at him again, finally sensing that the conversation is not going well.

Elliot starts calmly, "Aiden, do you know what I did before I moved to Italy?"

"No."

"I worked with Special Victims. It's a sex-crimes unit. For nearly twenty years, I dealt with the scum of the earth. Mostly men who thought they could use their power and strength to hurt women and children. Most of them, though, they started with this kinda shit you're spewing now: that as a man, they just can't help themselves. That they can disrespect women and sleep around because that's just how men are."

"Hey, man, it's not like that," Aiden pushes back.

"Really? Then what the hell do you call this conversation?"

Aiden shrugs again. "Locker room talk… guys ribbing one another. You know…"

"No, I don't know. If I hear one more word out of your mouth about Tia, or me, or my woman, or hell, any woman, I will make sure you are off this case."

"You can't do that."

"Fucking try me," Elliot growls through gritted teeth.

Olivia's sitting at her desk that Friday with Elliot's letter and a pad of paper in front of her. All week she's been letting her mind wonder about the things she wants to say to him, how to respond to his written words and spoken words. Each letter, even though it should be easier, just feels harder to write because she has to crack open her tough exterior just a little more. She has to let Elliot into the spaces of her life that he's never seen before.

It would have always been hard to do, but it's harder now that she's seen him, touched him, kissed him. Her heart flutters each time she thinks of his last night in the city.

"Thinking something good, huh?" Fin's voice makes her jump, and her cheeks tint pink.

"What? No, nothing," she mutters, folding Elliot's letter and setting it over her short scribbles on her notepad.

Fin grins slyly at her attempts to hide what she was doing. "Another letter from lov-ah boy?"

"Stop."

"Aw, come on Liv." Fin takes a seat on her couch, rubbing his hands together. "I know something's finally happening between you two. And it's about damn time."

"It's just– I don't…"

"Look, you don't have to give me the details." He grimaces and holds a hand up. "In fact, I insist that you don't. I don't need girl talk or to hear about Stabler's moves." He gives a dramatic shudder.

Olivia laughs.

"I just wanted to check in on you. He's been gone for a bit now, and I know you guys had something when he was here."

"We did," Olivia nods. She has her suspicions that Fin and Elliot might have been in touch while Elliot was back in town.

Fin tips his head and gives Olivia a serious look. "Is he treating you right?"

Olivia rolls her eyes. "Yes, Fin."

"Good." Fin waits, chewing his lip before he starts again. "You know, I kinda know what you are going through. Not the exact same. But when me and Phoebe started talking again, it was hard. There had been so much history, and not the good kind, between us… Well, it was hard to overcome."

"But you two managed."

"We did," Fin nods. "It's not perfect now. Those old hurts resurface sometime, but all the good days, they make it worth the work."

Olivia doesn't say anything as she looks back at the folded letter on her desk.

"Hey," he says, standing up from the couch. "I just wanted to put in my two cents. I think you two can work it out and be good. I can just tell that you are still wondering if it's worth the risk."

"And you think it is."

"I do," he nods again. "It's a risk for sure. But some risks are worth it. And this, happiness, is one of them."

Olivia speaks to his back as Fin walks to the door. "Thanks Fin."

"Anything for you, Cap."

After making sure that Fin's returned to his desk and no one else is looking her way, Olivia pulls out Elliot's letter and her notepad. She's able to finish her response and drop it by the post office on her way home.

By Saturday evening, Elliot's on edge. He's tried everything: running, and lifting, cooking, and eating, napping, and even drinking a beer. But nothing can stop the angsty agitation in his system.

He's still reeling from his ride with Aiden. He's frustrated there are still young men out there with that mindset—that women are just in this world for men's enjoyment. Sure, Aiden is "one of the good guys" who's fighting to end gangs and trafficking. But bad people come in degrees, and he's only a few away from being no better than the scum that Elliot locked up on a daily basis.

He also feels cramped in his empty apartment. The 500-square-foot, one-bedroom apartment feels no bigger than a shoebox now that he's returned. It also feels so much lonelier, though he knows that the empty feeling is in his heart.

He misses Olivia more than he thought possible. He knows what it's like to miss loved ones. He's traveled for work, even for weeks and months at a time, both in private security and undercover work. But something that was difficult before feels impossibly painful now.

It feels as if a piece of him has been pulled away and is stationed across the globe.

He's so tired of being in Rome. If he didn't think it would cost him his job, Elliot would ask to be taken off the task force.

He picks up his phone and runs through his text messages. He'd sent one to Olivia earlier. Just a quick, "I hope you are having a good weekend." But she never responded.

He considers texting her again. But in a move of courage and desperation, he pulls up her contact information and calls her instead.

"Mooooooom, your phone is buzzing!" Noah yells from the living room.

Busy putting away their grocery delivery, Olivia calls back, "Who is it?"

"Elliot! He's FaceTiming you!"

She looks at the clock on her stove. It's almost 4:00 p.m., so it's just before 10:00 p.m. in Rome. She can hear Noah greeting Elliot and the sound of his heavy clomping footsteps headed towards the kitchen. For such an elegant dancer, he's a loud walker. Quickly, she tries to recall whether they had scheduled a call, but she can't remember ever agreeing to talk now.

Before she can tell Noah to talk to Elliot for a minute while she runs to the bathroom—she's been cleaning all day, so her hair's flying out from her claw clip and she doesn't have on a lick of makeup—he's rounding the corner and flips the iPad quickly in her direction.

"No, she's just putting groceries away. See?"

Thankfully he turns the screen back his way and continues his conversation with Elliot.

"So what time is it there?" Noah asks.

She can hear Elliot answer, "Almost ten."

"Really? So, you're in the future?" Noah sits at the kitchen island and props up the iPad on a (very unused) cookbook so it's capturing most of the kitchen, Olivia included.

Elliot's chuckles echo through her kitchen before he says, "Something like that."

Olivia steps back a bit, hoping to be out of the frame. "Hey, El. Is everything okay?"

"Hey, Liv," Elliot greets her, grinning broadly. "Everything is fine. I just wanted to check in. I texted you earlier."

"Sorry, I've been cleaning up a bit this afternoon. I must've missed it."

"That's alright."

"Hey, Elliot," Noah interrupts. "Did Mom tell you that I got the solo lead?"

Elliot smiles at Olivia once more before focusing his attention back on Noah, who's face now takes up most of the screen. "No! That's great! Tell me all about it."

Noah spends the next ten minutes rattling off about dance. Olivia takes the break to run to the bathroom and clean up. Quickly, she pulls the clip from her hair and re-does the lazy up-do, trying to catch all the fly-aways, and she runs a damp washcloth over her face, hoping to wipe dirt and sweat from her skin. She considers changing out of her leggings and faded, oversized NYPD t-shirt, but decides that would be too obvious.

When she returns Olivia can see Elliot still giving her son his full attention, even though she knows that Elliot doesn't know the difference between a pirouette and krumping, not that Noah does either dance move in his modern hip-hop class.

"Noah, hon." Olivia stops her son's story about his recent practice with a hand on his shoulder. "I think the dryer is done. Go put away your clothes."

Noah grumbles under his breath but leaves the room.

"Sorry about that, El," Olivia apologizes. "I know it's getting late there."

"Don't." Elliot shakes his head. "I want to hear about his dance. I'm going to have to learn the stuff sooner or later."

She smiles at this but moves on. "Is there a reason you called?"

"I wanted to see you," he answers, grinning at her brightly.

"And what a sight you're getting," Olivia says, looking back down defeatedly at her shirt, noticing a couple of small holes.

"Stop, Liv. I've seen you in every possible condition."

"That doesn't mean that I want you to see me like this now."

Elliot lifts a brow. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," Olivia answers with a huff.

"You mean now that I know what it's like to kiss you."

"Hush, you," she shushes but smiles as she looks back towards the hallway. "Noah could walk in. But yes."

"He's old enough to know his mom does a little kissing," Elliot pushes back, but gives in as soon as he sees the concern on Olivia's face. "Fine. Just know that I want to see you, always."

"Tell me about your week."

"Not much to tell," Elliot shrugs. "There is a young guy on the team that's a punk. I'm thinking about popping him one."

"Are you fighting, Elliot?" Noah asks as he takes a seat at the counter once more.

"Real nice," Olivia mumbles.

"No, I'm not fighting," Elliot answers, shaking his head. He can see Olivia behind Noah, giving him a stern look, so he adds, "Fighting is bad, and it doesn't solve anything."

"I don't know," Noah pushes back. "A kid in my class, Oliver, was getting pushed around by Jackson for a week, then one time on break, Oliver shoved Jackson into a locker and punched him. That seemed to solve their problems."

Olivia looks down at her son flabbergasted. "Noah, you didn't tell me about this."

The boy shrugs. "Because it wasn't anything."

"If you are fighting…"

"It wasn't me," Noah cuts her off. "I swear. I was just saying what I saw."

"Okay, okay." Olivia holds her hands up in mock surrender.

"So, what are you doing this afternoon?" Elliot asks, trying to pull the conversation back to a safe place.

"Putting away groceries, then cooking dinner."

"Anything good?"

"No," Noah answers for her.

"Noah!"

He turns to his mother and asks with a hint of snark. "Can you make that angry pasta?"

Elliot laughs at the interaction.

"I don't have the stuff to make Pasta all'Arrabbiata." Olivia answers.

Elliot pipes up. "I'll make it for you, Noah. When I'm back."

"Fine." Noah huffs and slides off his seat. "I'm going back to my show."

Elliot and Olivia, both watch him walk out of the kitchen.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your weekend," Elliot says.

"You aren't interrupting. I just… I wasn't expecting your call."

"Sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry," Olivia tells him, with a quick shake of her head.

"I'm not, really. I, uh, I miss you, Liv. And I wanted to tell you that directly, not wait until my next letter."

Olivia smiles softly and her cheeks turn pink. "Thank you. I miss you too, El."

His smile matches hers. "Well, then. I, uh… I need to get to bed. And you need to cook dinner."

Olivia bites her lip, and nods. "Yeah."

"Talk to you later, then."

"O-kay."

"Bye, Olivia"

It's another week before Olivia's letter arrives. But after his FaceTime chat with Olivia and Noah, the days pass more quickly than before, and Elliot feels renewed with purpose—to get back home to them.

September 1, 2023

Elliot,

I miss you. I know I just saw you, but I miss you already.

Our time together passed too quickly, and I wasted so much of it hiding out in my office. I don't have an exact explanation as to why I panicked, but I'm working on it. I'm working on being ready for this—for you and me.

You said you wanted to know about my life while you were gone. Well, this is one of the things, and maybe it's not a new thing altogether, but it's the one I struggle with the most. I struggle to trust and develop deep connections. My therapist says it's because of the losses that I've suffered in my life, and maybe he's not wrong.

In the ten years you were gone, it felt like almost every friendship or relationship that I had either faded away slowly and was too far gone before I realized, or simply vanished into thin air, leaving me all alone. Friends and lovers moved on with their lives, moved on from me. Some made the choice to leave me behind, and others left without a choice. I'm not sure which hurt worse. For a long time, I just felt like I was an easy person to leave behind.

I think that's part of the reason why I was so angry that you pushed me away when you first came back. I knew, at least to some degree, how you were feeling. I could have helped. I wanted to help you. Not only because I am your friend and I care for you, deeply. But also because I am intimately familiar with the pangs of grief.

A few years before you came back, I was in a relationship with Ed Tucker (a lot can happen in ten years). We were together for a while; things were serious. But we broke it off because he wanted us to retire and raise Noah together. Ed and I could have had a very good life together, but I wasn't ready. That's the story of my life—never being ready for what's right in front of me. When finally I felt that maybe I could be ready, he was married to a lovely woman. And then, he was sick. Cancer. He took his own life before the cancer could take it for him. We weren't married for 40 years, but I know what it feels like when death takes someone you love before you're ready.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that what I'm working on has less to do with you and your transgressions and more to do with me and my journey. I have to learn to trust in the things that make me happy and be ready to take opportunities to be happy when life gives them to me.

You make me happy, El. And I'm working so hard to just let myself be happy. At the risk of sounding too sappy, I wear the compass you gave me every day. It's gorgeous. When I'm feeling a bit lost without you here, I hold it and remind myself that my journey can lead to happiness. And now that I know what it means to you, and how much effort you put into it, it means that much more to me. I can feel your love when I wear it.

We didn't have a date while you were here. That's probably a good thing. I would have wrecked it. We can have a date when you return, and if you want, I'll still wear a black dress that will have you panting.

I enjoyed the time we did have. Dinner with your family was lovely. I adore your kids and mother. Noah, despite his snark, really enjoys having you around. He wants to invite you to his fall recital. If you're back by then, I would love for you to come, too. And don't worry if you can't. He'll have a spring recital, too.

All my love,

Olivia