"I need you to tell me that what we have right now between us is real, what we are to each other is real."

"... do not leave me behind again."

Elliot reads the letter all the way through three times in quick succession. Those two lines, however, stand out. They're knives to his heart. He knows that he's hurt Olivia time and time again, but he didn't realize just how much he shook her to her very core. The strong, independent woman he knows is begging him to assure her that what is happening between them is real and to include her in his life. Her confidence and trust in him, about this, about them, are in the dirt, and it's entirely his fault.

No wonder she backed away from him in January asking, "What if it doesn't work out?" He had stepped into her space–leaned in, ready to take what he wanted–and she had pulled away. She hadn't trusted him not to hurt her, believing, at least a little, that he didn't really want her and he was going to leave again. She had protected herself from him.

He's never felt so horrible.

Olivia's fears about this trip are not unfounded. He left her behind for ten years, and then again for three months. Both times he left her completely alone and without warning.

During his undercover gig, he could have texted her or had a message sent to her, but he chose not to. He's not sure what he had been thinking back then. Though, at that time, he was doing anything and everything not to think.

Elliot knew back then he was being reckless taking the undercover job with the Albanians. He didn't have to take it. He was one of three potential detectives for the job. He all but begged Bell to let him become Eddie Ashes. He wanted to be anyone but Elliot Stabler, and becoming an outer ring member of a boxing, drinking, and drug-running gang felt like just the opportunity to escape from his life. He couldn't let his inner turmoil about Olivia follow him, so he sprinted to that run-down camper and sweat-stinking gym without even a sideways glance. He selfishly didn't allow himself to consider how his actions would affect her.

He had thought that she at least knew how he felt this time before he left and had trusted his words. He had told her exactly where he was going, what the expected timeframe was, and he had promised he would keep in touch. And he's trying to uphold his promise. Even so, he can't blame her for being uncertain given his past actions–for not giving much weight to his words without the actions to back them up.

Elliot sits at his small, two-person dining table all night writing back to her. He knows that if he waits, he might be able to give her more. But he feels that responding immediately is more important than covering it all. They have months to sort everything out. Elliot just wants to make sure that when she finishes reading this letter, she will never doubt him again.

He worries he might overwhelm her, but he has to make sure that Olivia knows this time is different. He is different and they are different. And he has to let her know that right now. He is determined to get it all out tonight, and he is going to return it first thing in the morning.

Elliot is a new man after dropping off his letter at the Poste Italiane that next morning.

Nothing can bring him down now, not after Olivia had responded so earnestly to his letter. He had read Olivia's letter once more before he left this morning. Even though she'd shared her fears, which took him aback, she'd admitted that she's ready for more. She's just asked him to take the first step, and he is willing to leap into their new beginning.

When his therapist had said to him months ago, "Sounds like you are a man in need of a new beginning," Elliot had known what beginning he wanted. He was devastated, of course, about the things that had come to an end in his life. But he was alive and knew what, who, he wanted.

Only a few weeks later, he had seen an opening. And with the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, he had pushed too hard. Olivia had invited him into her life, asking him to pick up Noah, watch him, and keep him safe. When he had demanded that she look at him, she did, but she couldn't lean into him fully. She'd pulled back, pressing her head and cheek to his face and quietly admitting that she wanted to. Now he knows she just hadn't trusted him enough to give into the want.

She is trusting him now, and he's not going to let her regret it.

Elliot whistles as he walks into his squad room with a quad shot of espresso in his hand and takes a seat, ignoring the shocked looks from the other agents as he passes them by. He knows why they are looking at him in confusion—even before his mood had started to sour, he wasn't the whistling kind of man.

After checking his emails, he pulls out his phone and reads through the text messages from his family. With the time difference, he often doesn't get a chance to respond to them until the next day.

He smiles as he scrolls through Kathleen's daily update about Eli and his mother:

All is good here

I think Eli is ready to go back

Grandma is good

Her flowers are gorgeous!

She asks about you though

Trying to respond to all her messages, he texts back to Kathleen:

Thanks for the update

I'll check in with Eli

He's not causing trouble is he?

Tell Ma I'm fine and I'll try to call this weekend

Send me photos of her flowers

Then he types out a few messages to Eli:

Just checking in

How's soccer camp?

Any word about apartments?

I'm checking on my time off request today

I'll let you know

Miss you

Love you

He sees Olivia's name in his list of messages after he sends his messages to Eli. The date tells him that it's been several weeks since he's texted her. He looks at their last exchange and he feels sad, realizing that he wasn't able to hold a conversation with her over text, even a simple, fragmented one, like he can with his kids.

He considers texting her just then. Something easy, maybe letting her know that he got her letter and that he's sent her a response. Maybe a little note about how he misses her, too.

Something stops him, though. It could be easy, resuming these texts. But he doesn't want it easy. Not any more. He can't go back to surface-level, half-formed sentences sent periodically between them in the days and nights.

In just an exchange of two letters, he and Olivia have covered more ground than they have in the last two years. Hell, they've covered more now than they ever did in their partnership.

Sure, they knew each other then. They knew each other's secrets and fears. They supported each other, protected each other, and sacrificed for each other. But they'd never admitted what they truly felt.

They couldn't.

Elliot knows that. He knows he was married and she was his partner. He knows why they could never cross those lines until now. And crossing them now is a delicate art. She's opened up to him more in her letter than he had hoped she would. He isn't going to mess that up by sending a trivial text message. He doesn't want to break this special space they're creating for themselves.

No. He'll wait for her handwritten reply. Even if it takes weeks.

Tia stops by his desk, unable to avoid his drastically-changed attitude. "You seem much cheerier today."

Elliot leans back in his chair, giving her a soft grin. "It's a good day."

"Hmm… What happened?"

"Nothing happened," he shrugs, then meets her inquisitive gaze with one of his own. "Why are you asking? I thought I was becoming a liability."

"You were, but such a dramatic shift isn't a good sign either." Tia eyes him more closely, taking in his eyes and skin. "You're not on drugs, are you?"

Elliot laughs. "Uh, no. I'm not on drugs."

"Find a woman?"

"No, I did not find a woman," he answers indignantly, the humor gone from his voice. Elliot's never been mistaken for some sort of philanderer, and he doesn't appreciate the implication that he would have a random hook-up while he's here on a job, especially not from Tia who knows the truth.

Tia's eyes narrow again. "What about Olivia?"

"What about her?" he asks, his tone still harsh.

"Is she the reason for this… change?"

Taking a moment, Elliot thinks. Tia is the closest person he has around right now. And although they're not partners or really all that close, she does know about him. She knows about his wife, about his life back in New York, and about Olivia. He knows that she's a safe person to share this with, and maybe sharing will make him feel less alone. Plus, it's not like he's hiding his emotions very well anyway.

"Kind of," he admits.

Smiling, Tia pushes him. "Care to elaborate?"

"We've, uh, been writing… letters to each other."

"Letters?"

"Yes, letters."

"You don't seem to me to be the type of man that writes letters."

He laughs. She's right. He's never actually written a letter before now. He doesn't think writing down words he doesn't truly believe that had been dictated to him by Kathy counts as writing a letter, not really. His initial letter to Olivia is the first time he's sat down and written out his thoughts like that. It's been uncomfortable, and he's felt inarticulate.

"No, I don't suppose I do."

"But you are? Writing letters to Olivia, I mean?"

"We just started. I sent her one a while back, a few weeks ago. And I got her reply yesterday."

"Was it pages upon pages of sweet nothings and honeyed words to mend your heart and soothe you to sleep at night?" Tia teases, happy to see her friend finally feeling better. Despite the somewhat awkward way things happened between them in New York, Tia still considers Elliot a friend, and she cares for his happiness.

"Not quite," he chuckles again, looking back at his computer as another email comes through.

"But this is a good thing… with her, right?"

"I think so. Or at least the start of a good thing."

"Good. You deserve good things, Elliot," Tia says as she pats his shoulder and turns to make her way to her own desk. "And I'm tired of your bad mood."

"Noted."

Olivia has survived more in her life than any one person should have ever survived, including, adding to her list most recently, a gunshot wound. But she's not sure she'll survive the wait for Elliot's reply. For a split-second, she feels bad for making him wait so long for her response, but she doesn't hold on to that guilt. His own actions are the reason she was so hesitant to open his letter.

She second-guesses everything she wrote to him, though. She wishes she'd made a copy. She wants to dissect every letter and punctuation mark late at night when she lays in bed. She wants to put it side-by-side with his letter to make sure she'd responded to each of his statements—there had been many. Olivia bounces back and forth between worrying she gave into him too quickly and being absolutely resolute she's doing the right thing in claiming what she wants.

When writing to him, she takes him at his word that he wants a new beginning, and she jumped right in, admitting she wants a fresh start as well. But now, she wonders if she should have protected her heart more, if she should have made him give her more first before she's ready to commit to a man over four thousand miles away and who has burned her before, albeit not romantically.

He's asked her for honesty, and she feels like she's spilled her guts. Of course, she's held a lot back. She had only written a couple of pages when her thoughts about what he had said could have easily filled multiple notebooks.

She tells herself she's tired of waiting and this is just her finally acting on something just for her. It's been more than a year since Lindstrom told her it was time for her to contemplate what she deserves. It's been several months since Amanda had asked her if she was going to find happiness with Elliot.

She thinks she's ready to seek her happiness, and she wants to be happy with him. She just hopes she is doing the right thing. She has always trusted Elliot, even when she shouldn't. Most of the time, he's risen to the occasion, but the few times he's failed, he's done so spectacularly and has left her heartbroken and hurting.

To distract herself, Olivia visits Amanda the weekend after she mails her own letter.

Amanda had given birth to her third child, her son with Carisi, almost two weeks ago. He was early, but they had been prepared for that possibility, and he was sent home after a few days in the NICU. Olivia had visited the day he was born, clapping excited hugs on Carisi's back and offering a small gift for the newest addition—Dominick "Nico" Carisi, III. She hadn't stuck around too long, though. Carisi's family had taken up most of the waiting room, and she could see Amanda was a bit overwhelmed and a lot exhausted.

"He's beautiful, Amanda," Olivia says for the umpteenth time as Amanda joins her in the living room of her small apartment after laying Nico down in his crib. "I'm so happy for you and Carisi."

"We are pretty smitten with him." Amanda leans back, closes her eyes, and exhales an enervated sigh, happy to have a quiet home and another adult to spend a few moments with between the duties of parenting a newborn.

Carisi, though, as equally as sleep deprived as his wife, has taken the older kids to the park so Olivia and Amanda can catch up. Both women had vowed to reach out more after their last case, but, as usual, life got in the way, and much like with her and Elliot, Olivia and Amanda have a difficult time keeping in touch.

"As you should be."

Cracking open her eyes and looking at Olivia, Amanda asks, "So, what's going on with you?"

Olivia waves off her question. "Oh, nothing important. I came to visit you."

"No offense, Liv, but I've been Mommy-ing for two weeks—nursing, rocking, and changing poopy diapers between homework and braiding hair. Please give me something good. How are you and Elliot?"

"Uh, Elliot's in Italy."

Amanda slaps her hands over her face. "Oh god, I knew that. You told me that. I'm sorry."

"It's not like you have a lot going on," Olivia jokes with a small chuckle. She recalls those early days with Noah. Even though he hadn't been a newborn, life changes dramatically when a baby is brought home. The location of a friend's friend-slash-potential-romantic-interest doesn't register as important.

Accepting Olivia's grace, Amanda tries again. "How are you doing with him being gone?"

Olivia thinks for a moment about lying and changing the subject, usually not willing to share too much about her relationship with Elliot, but she needs some insight and to be talked off the ledge a little. Plus, Amanda clearly needs something other than breastfeeding and diaper rash to think about.

Matching Amanda's position on the couch, slumping against the back and resting her head on the top cushion, Olivia trains her eyes on the ceiling. As much as she needs to spill, she doesn't think she can look at Amanda while she does.

"It was tough at first. He at least told me that he was going away this time," she says with a forced laugh. "He texted me at the beginning."

"But those fell off?"

"Yeah."

"He's no contact again?"

Preparing for this discussion, Olivia inhales through her nose and says, "Not exactly," as she exhales.

Rolling her head to the side on the cushion Amanda watches Olivia's profile. "What do you mean?"

"He wrote to me a few weeks ago."

"A letter?" Amanda sits upright, in shock at how calm Olivia is in this moment. "He wrote you a letter? Stabler wrote you a letter—after last time?"

Olivia huffs a small laugh. "It was a much better letter this time."

"You read it?" Amanda asks, clearly affected by this revelation though she's relaxed back into the couch.

Olivia had not told Amanda all the details of Elliot's first letter, but she knew it had bothered Olivia quite a bit. Olivia had tried not to let it show, but she had told Amanda that Elliot had shown up in the park while she and Noah were sledding, handed her an envelope and appeared so nonchalant about whether she actually read it. And then he'd refused to talk about it until he showed up at Olivia's apartment after he'd been drugged and claimed his deceased wife dictated the letter.

Amanda hadn't known about Elliot's postscript in the letter. Nor did she know that Elliot, in the midst of his PTSD, had also blurted out "I love you" to Olivia in front of his scared children. Olivia had felt that those were too personal to share.

Olivia answers Amanda's question with a nod.

"What did he say?"

"A lot."

"Give me the Cliff's Notes."

Olivia almost regrets getting into this conversation. She's not really ready to divulge the depth of Elliot's letter or admit to her own response. But she's here now, and Amanda has talked to her about Elliot before without judgment.

"Uh, he said that he wished he was home and doesn't like being back in Rome. He said that he had been thinking about us and wanted to have, uh, a new beginning, on our own terms, because he felt like there was something more between us."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"So much. I feel so much; too much, honestly."

"Do you agree with him, about there being more there between you two?"

Olivia swallows before she admits, "I do. I think it's been building for a little while."

"More like forever—"

"I just mean since he's been back. We, uh, struggled a lot that first year, but he was grieving, so I try not to take it personally or hold it against him, but—"

"I will," Amanda interrupts.

Olivia chuckles and continues, "But recently, it feels like he's been pushing us to be more."

"Do you want that—with him? I mean, when we talked about Stabler last winter, you said that you were paralyzed by the whole thing."

Rolling her head back and forth on the back of the couch, Olivia shrugs. "I don't know exactly what I want, but I don't want to be paralyzed. There have been these, uh, moments recently and–I don't know, but I froze and I didn't want to."

"What moments?"

Olivia feels like an embarrassed teen gossiping about getting a peck on the cheek by her first crush. But she needs to talk these moments through with someone, and better Amanda than Fin. She wonders momentarily what Ginny McCann would say to all this gossip about grown adults struggling to get their act together; she'd say it's not normal, that's for sure.

"After Elliot picked up Noah for me from Woodstock and drove him back to my apartment, he waited until I got home. Late that night, we were in my kitchen, and then he was there, like right there in front of me, and something changed, and then he leaned in or maybe I leaned in…"

"You kissed?"

Olivia shakes her head. "No. No, I, uh, pulled back."

"Why?" Olivia knows Amanda's question isn't accusatory, just curious–she wants to know why her friend can't accept Elliot's affection even though she wants to. Amanda told her that night in the motel that in her limited interactions with Elliot, and his typical cocky and brash approach, she knows he's a genuine and caring man.

"I just wasn't ready," Olivia says as if she's still trying to make sense of it all herself. "It had been a long, very emotional week, and I just wasn't ready to lay all that on him and trust him like that."

"Did you want to kiss him?"

Olivia blushes at the thought, at the potential of having actually given into him and kissing him that night. "I'm not sure. I think, maybe… It could have been nice."

Amanda scoffs, "Nice? I doubt a kiss from Stabler would be just nice."

"What does that mean?" Olivia knows exactly what Amanda means. Even without first-hand experience, Olivia knows that Elliot is not a man who kisses nicely. He's a man that does everything with wholesale commitment. If he's going to kiss someone, he's going to go all in. Or so that's what Olivia has always thought and maybe hoped a little.

Amanda waves her off. "Nothing. Is there more? You said 'moments,' plural." Amanda's pushing now, but this is the most she's heard Olivia talk about Stabler, and Olivia knows she's going to get as much out of her friend as she can.

Olivia nods, biting her lip anxiously before answering. "Yeah, in Ohio."

Smiling with understanding, Amanda offers, "After you got shot?"

"How did you–"

"He carried you from that diner, Liv. He couldn't see having taken a face full of that gas. But he shot the man and carried you bridal-style from the diner, and then he drove you to a doctor. There's not much more than a near-death experience and testosterone-filled heroics to force people to confront their feelings."

"I didn't nearly die." Olivia brushes off Amanda's dissection of events. "And I was the one who aimed that shot. I worked my own heroics in that diner."

"You aimed his gun?" Amanda questions, impressed. "How did—Actually, no. One thing at a time." She shakes her head, getting back on track. "You might have been okay in reality, but in that moment, I bet he felt real fear. Did he kiss you then? Is that what's bothering you? He kissed you and then left?"

"No. I thought he was going to… I–I thought he was going to kiss me." The words felt weird to speak aloud. She's never talked about her and Elliot kissing before. She continues, "He helped me up off the table after they'd patched me up, made sure I was steady on my feet. And we were really close, he looked at me so… intently, and there was a moment when I just thought…"

"He chickened out?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure," Olivia shrugs. She's already dissected that moment over and over, and she's still not sure whether he was going to kiss her or whether she'd made it all up. "He hugged me."

"And you were disappointed?"

"I don't know. Maybe. All of this is so overwhelming."

"I get, Liv. I do. Maybe not to the same extent as you, because you and Stabler have decades behind you, but it was really scary for me to let Carisi in. Really let him in. Eventually, though, I realized that he already had one foot in the door, and it wasn't fair to either of us to keep the other foot out." Olivia recognizes, maybe for the first time, how similar her and Amanda's journeys have been. "We were friends, quietly hoping for more, but too afraid to take it any further, and yet, we couldn't be with anyone else, either."

"Yeah, I just… What if he lets me down again? What if I give into this and he leaves me again?"

Amanda places her hand on Olivia's thigh, comforting her, knowing how scary all of this can be. "Then you will survive, just like you did before. It will hurt like hell, again. But is that fear worth not getting what you want?"

Olivia ponders Amanda's words, really ruminating on whether she's actually afraid. She's lost Elliot once before and survived, and she's stronger now than she was then. "I'm not sure."

"Did you write him back?"

"Huh?" Olivia asks, still lost in her thoughts.

"Did you write him back? Did you respond to Stabler's letter?"

She nods. "I did."

"And what did you say?"

Olivia takes in a deep breath and sighs, sinking deeper into the cushions of the couch. "I told him that I felt it, too. And that I wanted us to have a new beginning."

"Then it seems like you've made up your mind."

"No. I rashly decided to be honest with him, and I've been second guessing my letter all week. Half the time, I feel so stupid and I'm afraid that this isn't real, and the other half, all I can think about is what he's going to say." Olivia feels better, finally saying what's been bouncing around her head all week.

"When will you get his response?"

"I'm not sure. I mailed my letter Express because it was a month after he wrote his letter." Amanda's eyes widen. Olivia says, "It took me a while to open the envelope. But still, I think typical mail takes a week or so, maybe ten days to get between the countries."

"And you sent yours when?"

"Last weekend."

"Well, then maybe you'll hear from him this week."

"Yea, maybe," Olivia admits, feeling her own exhaustion creep in at the emotional weight of the conversation.

"You could always text or call."

"I don't know, I—" Nico's soft cries filter through the baby monitor.

"Sorry, it's time for him to nurse. You can stay if you want," Amanda offers as she gets up and heads towards the nursery.

Standing up, Olivia shakes her head. "No, I've already taken up so much of your time. You need to focus on him."

"Keep in touch, please. I've missed you. And I need to know how all of this turns out."

"I will."

It turns out Amanda is right. Elliot's reply is in her mailbox when she gets home the following Friday after work. It's been an entire month since she'd received Elliot's first letter, and she can't help but notice the difference in her reaction to the two letters.

Excitement thrums through her as she enters her apartment this time. She can't wait to get upstairs and open the letter. But she calms herself, knowing she's not going to have time to read it until after Noah goes to bed.

It's several hours later when she settles in with the cardboard envelope, also marked with an "Express" stamp. She sits in her living room this time, curled up on her couch with a soft throw blanket, a glass of red wine, and a box of tissues.

July 21, 2023

Olivia,

We are real.

What we have between us right now is real. What we had between us before was real.

I will tell you that as many times as you need to hear it to believe it. I'm so sorry that I told you otherwise.

And I will never leave you behind again. You're stuck with me now—for good.

When I mailed my letter, I knew you might not open it or write back. But as the days ticked by, I was afraid that I had just ruined everything, and I was too far away to do a damned thing to fix it. I'm sure that most of my team was ready to ship me back to New York. I was not pleasant company.

But you wrote back and gave me more than I could have hoped for.

We are not going to take any steps back; we are only going forward from here.

You asked me to go first, Liv, and all I can say is that I love you. I told you once before, if not at the most opportune time. I tried to tell you again. There was a moment when I thought I might die when I was undercover (I know, I didn't tell you that either) and I called you then to tell you again, to make sure you knew. I started a voicemail but I chickened out and deleted it. I'm not going to let my fear control me now.

I love you.

I've been terrible at showing it. But it's because I'm not sure how I fit into your life now or whether you even want me. When I first got back, I pushed you away. I did it for a lot of reasons that I thought made sense at the time, but it was cruel and unfair. You said in your letter that you've lived a life without me. And you've created a hell of a life in the last decade. I feel like I'm on the outside looking in, as if you're keeping me at arm's length, and that's entirely my fault.

I want in now. I want all the way in.

How do I fit in your life, Liv? Do I have a place? Do we have a future? What does that look like to you?

I can see us, one year, two years, ten years, in the future. We can have everything.

I just have no idea how to get us there. And when I've tried, I've messed it up. I'm not going to stop trying though. So don't doubt, even for a second, that I want it or that I want you.

I'm sorry if this is too much or too fast. I've been too afraid to ask these questions. Not any more. I'm ready for us to work out. You said you are trying, and that's all I can ask for. Just keep trying and I'm going to be here, ready for you and for us.

Not to make your head spin, but I should have asked about you and your summer in my last letter.

How is Noah doing? Did he finish school with good grades? Does he get to dance during the summer? Did he beat that wizarding game he was yammering on (and on and on) about? Do you have any summer plans with him?

And how's work? Have you been able to find another detective? I know that you were sad to see Muncy leave. She was a good detective—young and a bit reckless but very smart and strong (like another young female detective I once knew).

I'm not quite "Liv, Love, Laughing," but I've been better lately. I have a regular cafe—they know to have my order ready everyday by 7:00 so I can get my fix before work. There is also a corner store that has the best gelato just a couple of blocks from my apartment. The pistachio is so good. I would love to take you there.

My bad attitude didn't scare everyone off. I've been out to drinks a few times, though I avoid the grappa. It's starting to feel more like an actual team, and that makes the job easier most days. We suffered a few setbacks here this week. One of our UCs was outed to a leader and executed. Much of the leadership has gone underground. We still have more UCs, but it's not safe for them to reach out or make any moves yet. We are just putting our ears to the ground and waiting, which is the worst part of these long-term gigs. At SVU and when I did private security, it was so much now, now, now. And with OC and this type of work, it's the long game. When I know more, I will tell you. I think we are probably looking at a few more months.

I have so much more I want to say, but I'm off to bed now. If I fall asleep soon, I think I can get a couple hours before my alarm goes off. I will send this first thing tomorrow.

Love,

El