"There she is!" he called the moment he laid eyes on her. "Hagia Olivia, patron saint of lost causes, come at last to grace us mere mortals with her presence."

"Hardly," Olivia answered, and though she demurred, though she blushed as always beneath his kind praise, she smiled, and wrapped her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his weathered cheek as she went.

"You're beautiful as ever," Munch told her as they separated, his hand lingering on her shoulder for a moment, his eyes searching her face as if looking for some sign of trouble.

"And you haven't changed a bit," she said.

He had, though. He had changed so much; he was thinner than he once had been, and he looked tired. When they first met Olivia had been in her early thirties which meant Munch was pushing fifty, and she'd thought he was old then. Time had changed her perspective - Munch was younger then than she was now - but he looked old, now, in a way that made her sad, too sad to admit the truth out loud.

"A saint and a liar," he said wryly. "What a paradox you are."

If it was a paradox he was after she'd brought him the biggest one of all, but she didn't quite know where to start explaining herself and the hulking stranger lurking behind her left shoulder.

It was a busy night at the Waterfront - moderately busy, anyway, busy for a place like that, frequent haunt of cops and conspiracists, not a face in sight under fifty years old - and Munch had been, as he so often was, holding court in a corner booth nestled near the back of the bar, entertaining a few people Olivia didn't recognize, though one of them looked like she might have been an ex-wife. Maybe an ex-wife-to-be. That'd be nice, she thought, if Munch found someone. For a man who was so often pessimistic, a man who had seen the worst of society and been divorced so many times Olivia had honestly lost count, he remained a hopeless - or perhaps more aptly, a hopeful - romantic. It was good, she thought, that he believed in love; she had given up on it long ago.

"It's been too long since you stopped by," he continued warmly, and though he was speaking to her his eyes were fixed on Stabler, glinting already with that typical Munch-like curiosity.

It had been about three years, she figured, maybe a little more since she'd last seen him. She'd been a regular at the Waterfront for a time, but then she and Brian had gotten into a terrible fight after the debacle with Stone, and she'd not come back since. It struck her now how unfair that was, how juvenile; she didn't want to see Brian, but she'd ended up avoiding John, too, and he'd deserved better from her. It didn't seem like he was angry with her, though; maybe it wasn't too late to become a regular again, to see her old partner, to feel, just for an hour or two, like there was somewhere she belonged.

"You know how it is," she said. "Work."

It was a flimsy excuse, and John knew it.

"Cassidy," he said knowingly, deflecting her white lie in favor of the truth.

"Is he-"

"At the bar," John said, nodding in that direction. Olivia looked, and sure enough there he was, Brian Cassidy, in black jeans and a too-tight grey t-shirt with a white dishrag slung over his shoulder, pulling beers and laughing with some of the old timers at the bar. He was doing a good job of pretending he didn't notice her, but as she looked his eyes darted to her face, and he grinned when he saw her.

"Are you gonna just make eyes at Brian all night or are you gonna introduce me to your friend?"

"Sorry," Olivia said quickly, looking away from Brian and reaching for Stabler's arm, pulling him forward.

"This is my friend Elliot," she said. Stabler shot her an incredulous look, and she could almost hear his voice in her head. My friend? Was that he was? She honestly had no idea.

"He was on the job," she said. There hadn't been enough time in the car for her to really think her way through this but she'd decided already not to lie to John. The truth might need to be polished up just a bit, though; she needed to get this conversation started, to just ease him into it, and then drop the bombshell. She didn't want him to laugh her out of the bar. And Stabler had been on the job. If John called one of his old friends at 1PP tomorrow and asked them to look up Elliot Stabler, they'd confirm the truth. Or one version of it.

"And he's got some questions for you," she rushed on.

"John Munch," he said, holding out his hand. Stabler took it and they shook once, firmly, but for the moment Stabler remained quiet, as if he were too stunned to speak. Maybe he was. Maybe it was weird as all hell for him, meeting another old friend who did not know his face.

"And whatever it is, I didn't do it," Munch added, grinning, and at that Stabler found his voice.

"Nah, nothing like that," Stabler said easily. "Wanted to pick your brain. What do you know about string theory?"

"You brought me a present, Olivia, you shouldn't have," Munch said. "Come, sit - no, not there," he added when Stabler took a step toward the booth Munch had so recently vacated. "You're here to talk to me, they'll just muddy the waters. Olivia, why don't you get yourself something to drink? It's on the house. And a scotch for me, and whatever your friend here wants."

"Beer's fine," Stabler said even as Munch began to steer him towards a vacant booth. "Whatever's on tap."

There were about a dozen beers on tap so his statement wasn't exactly helpful, but Munch had taken control of him, and Olivia was left to make her way to the bar alone. The bar, where Cassidy was waiting for her, suddenly without customers to entertain, his blue eyes fixed on her.

Damn it.

"Hey, Olivia," Cassidy said as she leaned against the bar. "That the guy?"

She'd told him a little bit about Stabler when she'd called him a few days before. The call hadn't just been a request for clothes and a phone; she'd really called Brian to ask if he could poke around, quietly, and try to dig up some information on Stabler. A Captain asking those questions would've drawn unwanted attention; for now the list of people who knew about the conundrum of Ellliot Stabler was mercifully short, and Olivia wanted to keep it that way. Bri hadn't found out anything that Bell hadn't already told her, but he was in this, now.

"Yeah," she said. "Listen Munch wants a scotch, and Stabler wants a pilsner, whatever's on tap, and I'll take a glass of anything red, if you've got it."

"Shit, you don't ask for much, do you?" Brian said, but he was smiling and already pulling a handle of scotch down off the shelf. Top shelf, for Munch. That was good, Olivia thought. He was gonna earn the expensive stuff tonight.

"What's his story?" Brian asked while he worked.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Olivia hardly believed it herself.

"You said he's a cop?"

"Used to be. He's…he's not really anything, right now."

"He's gonna have to be something if he wants to eat."

That was, Olivia thought, a very good point. She couldn't keep supporting Stabler indefinitely; she could afford the expense, living off a Captain's salary and Ed's life insurance in a cheap apartment with no one else to take care of meant she had money leftover, but she couldn't afford the entanglement. Stabler's proximity confused her, and she wasn't a fool; she knew she'd taken a risk, letting him stay with her, and every day that passed only increased the risk. It would be madness to let a strange man keep leaching off her, especially a strange man with hungry eyes and a body that made her heart skip a beat every time she looked at him. But Stabler had no ID, no address, no bank accounts; how the fuck was he gonna support himself?

The answer, she thought, was staring her right in the face. Where better to hide out, where better to start over, than a dive bar?

"About that," she said. "The guy's down on his luck. He's in…he's kind of in a jam. But he needs somewhere to work."

"Ah, hell, Olivia," Brian grumbled. "Bad enough you gotta go picking up strays, now you want me to look after 'em?"

Everybody always said Brian was stupid, and he may have been the kind of guy who got frottage and fromage mixed up, but he saw more than anybody ever gave him credit for, and he'd seen her game at once. Brian might not have known books but he knew people, and by God, he knew her.

"Come on, he was on the job," she said. It was a low blow; once a cop, always cop, that was the way of it, and Brian would feel compelled to help one of his brothers, even if he wasn't happy about it. "He's one of us. I've talked to his old Sarge, she says he's good people. The guy just needs a break."

"Does he even know his way around a bar?"

She honestly didn't know.

"One way to find out," she said.

"Damn it," Brian swore, but he was smiling. "You turn those big brown eyes on me, I'll give you whatever you want. I'll give the guy a chance - one chance," he clarified when he saw the relief wash over her face, "but you gotta clear it with the boss."

By that he meant Munch, but she was pretty sure she could talk her old partner around. It was, she thought, a pretty damn good idea, and she was pleased with herself for having worked it out.

"Now come on, you're no waitress, you can't carry all three of these by yourself."

Brian scooped up the drinks he'd poured and made his way out from behind the bar, and they walked together to the booth where Munch and Stabler were sitting, deep in conversation.

"Listen," Brian murmured as they walked. "Be careful with this one, Olivia."

"You think I can't handle myself?"

"I know you," he reminded her grimly. "And that guy, he's just your type."

She wasn't sure what it said about Brian that he recognized that already, given their history, given that Brian himself had once been her type.

"I don't wanna see you get hurt."

He'd told her once that he loved her, and she couldn't help but wonder now if maybe he still did. Couldn't help but wonder how different things might have been if she loved him back.

"I'll be ok, Bri," she promised him.

"Here we go," Brian said, pitching his voice a little louder as they reached the booth. "Scotch for the old man," he laid the drink down in front of Munch, "pilsner for the stranger," he handed the beer to Stabler, "and cab for the lady." He passed the wine glass to Olivia with a flourish.

"Thanks, man," Stabler said.

"Don't thank me," Brian told him. "Thank her. She's your guardian angel."

"Don't I know it."

For a second the two men just stared at each other, sizing one another up, and Olivia watched warily, apprehensively, wondering if her plan to get Stabler a job at the Waterfront would be ruined before it ever got underway, but Brian blinked first, shook his head and retreated, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she slid into the booth next to John.

"So," she said. "How's it going?"

"Olivia," John said seriously. "What in the hell have you gotten yourself into?"

That, she thought, was a very good question.