2. Final Call at Forlini's- Extended Cut

Italicized conversation below is word for word from SVU 23:22

I own none of it :)

"What I don't get, why you feel more anger at me than you ever let yourself feel towards Stabler."

"You don't know anything about my feelings for Elliot, and you don't know him."

"I got a glimpse."

"I've known him for 23 years, and he's always had my back."

"And you grew up without a father to protect you.."

"Please don't. Please don't."

"I know how much that means. I grew up in a home, in a neighborhood where I got bullied. We're going to see him through different prisms."

"This isn't about him. This is about you and me, and how you betrayed me. I asked you not to defend Wheatley, and you did anyway."

"We're going around in circles. Your denying, your deflecting. You defend him. It's alright. I get it. That's what you do when you love somebody unconditionally."

"Please don't tell me how I feel."

"In this case, I can because I do know what it means to love someone unconditionally. When you are ready to stop feeling betrayed by me, I'll be here. "

"Rafa?"

"What?"

"I miss you too."

Backtrack with me to season 23 when episode 22 set up the perfect backdrop for an EO moment...

Olivia floundered somewhere between sadness and anger. Couldn't he see that what he did was the problem? He made the choice. He defended Wheatley. None of her anger had anything to do with Elliot and everything to do with him.

The bar quietly bustled around her while she fumed in frustration. Why was everyone suddenly so concerned about her relationship with Elliot? Between Lindstrom telling her to make a choice, Rollins telling her to do him until he's out of her system, and now Barba telling her to at least acknowledge her feelings, she felt even more stuck and undecided.

She pulled her phone from her purse to get an Uber. Everyone in her life had an opinion on her relationship with Elliot, but the only person who hadn't voiced an opinion was Elliot himself. Maybe it was time to change that.

~o~0~0~

She felt strong, determined even, until she made it to his door. Her palms began to sweat, and her stomach turned with a nervous vengeance. She nearly decided to leave and save face, but a minuscule amount of remaining resolve pushed her to knock.

His footsteps echoed behind the door and she suddenly second guessed this whole idea. A parade of worst case scenarios stomped through her mind. What if he had someone else here? What if he wasn't alone? What if he didn't want this, hell, what if he did want this?

The deadbolt turned and the door clicked open. Her nervous frame felt an onslaught of warmth as he met her with that smile. The smile he seemed to only reserve for her. The smile that made her tingle from her head to her toes.

"Liv," again with that damn smile, "everything okay? Come on in."

"Yeah, everything's fine. I was in the neighborhood …" the thought tapered off because they both knew that explanation wasn't true.

She followed him into his kitchen, "Want a drink?" He offered.

She waved him off, "No, no I'm fine." She glanced around the apartment. He seemed to be alone, no sign of Eli or Bernie.

He popped open a beer. The sound brought her attention back to him. Awkward silence seeped throughout the room. He rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, "Um, wanna sit." He motioned towards the couch.

She nodded and ditched her bag and coat at the counter. They sat next to each other with a safe distance between them. Elliot placed his arm on the back of the couch and leaned back, lifting his legs to the ottoman in front of them. She nervously played with her fingers, not really sure how to begin this conversation.

He tried to break the ice by asking, "Tough case?" But she cut him off.

"I need to know." She blurted.

He looked genuinely confused. "Know what?"

She let out a tense breath. "If you meant it." She realized she wasn't being clear, "when you said you loved me," her eyes shut, "did you mean it?" She knew she was putting him on the spot, but he had an out. He was in a PTSD sleepless nightmare at the time, but she now needed to know if it was the truth, and where they stood.

"Of course I did." His response came swift and sure. No hesitation, no indecision, just pure and open truth.

She opened her eyes to find him much closer to her than he was moments ago. His blue eyes pierced hers with an intensity she'd never seen. Her stomach tossed, not like earlier, not with fear or anxiety, but with anticipation.

His hand brushed her cheek and they were suddenly close. So close. "I have loved you longer than I should have and long before I was allowed."

Her heart pounded in response to his admission. Years of fear and second guessing melted away. She lifted her eyes to his, to again be met with his quiet intensity. His voice came out low and eager, "The question is," he reached for her hand, softly running his thumb across her fingers. The sensation lit a fire within her. "Do you love me?" His lips came precariously close to her ear, "Do you want me as much as I want you?"

Her heat pounded loudly and she almost couldn't move. Her whole body shivered with desire. She turned her face towards his and placed her hands on both sides of his face. For a minute she breathed him in, Elliot Stabler, the only man she ever really loved. It was time. She pulled his face towards hers and placed a lingering kiss to his lips. His breath caught, he seemed scared to move, afraid to scare her off or awake from this dream.

She kissed him again, this time with purpose, trying to convey the love and desire burning within her for decades. He responded in kind, kissing her deeply and passionately. Their lips broke apart only for a moment, only long enough for her to whisper, "Yes. I love you too." The words lit a fire between them. She pulled him towards her until they toppled backwards on the couch. He pulled back, just for a moment, flashing that damn smile again. She smiled back before pulling him back into another passion fueled kiss. Her hands dug into the muscles of his back pulling him impossibly closer. She pulled at the hem of his shirt, adeptly removing it from his muscular frame. As he hovered over her, shirtless and grinning, she knew things would never be the same again.