She pummeled the bag until her knuckles ached. It had been some time since she felt the need to beat the shit out of something, and for years her workouts had been focused on building lean muscle over the need to burn out pain and anger. But this case? It got to her in a way that hurt in ways she hadn't hurt in years.

So now she was beating the crap out of a bag in the precinct gym, after hours so she wouldn't bring all of this home with her.

Music blared through her AirPods and her taped hands stung everytime they impacted the bag. Her hyper focus blocked out anything else. For now, it was only her, the bag, and the splitting pain in her fists. She didn't hear him approach until he stood behind the bag, and his large hands steadied its rhythmic swing. Her fist pummeled the bag once more before she danced backward, pulling her an earbud from one of her ears.

"Fin send you?" She still felt her body buzzing with tense energy. "Coward," she muttered under her breath. He didn't want to deal with this so he sent a well muscled replacement.

He seemed a little hurt by the jab, but responded anyway, "No. I heard about…I heard about the case, and your victim. I came to see you, and he told me you were here."

She threw a haphazard punch into the bag, and his body absorbed the blow as he held the bag steady. "I'm fine," she said noncommittally.

His blue eyes bled sympathy. "I know you're not fine Liv."

In an irrational flash of anger she forcefully hit the bag. "You don't know anything about me El. Not anymore."

If he was hurt she didn't show it. Instead he stood silently, holding the bag. She flung her fist towards it again, but this time he caught her fist before it made contact with the bag. She tried to pull her hand back but his grip held steady.

"Liv," his soothing voice made her more angry, but his grip on her prevented her from leaving.

"Elliot," she groaned, "just, ugh." She wanted him to leave. She wanted to be alone because that was how she knew how to deal with things. Alone.

"You don't have to do this alone," he kept his voice low.

She bit her lip in an attempt to stop the quivering. With an unexpected yank, she managed to pull her arm from his grasp. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she tried to rush away, but this time his hands caught her hips, and she felt her momentum shift backwards. Within a moment his lips were next to her ear and sending shivers up and down her spine.

"If you want to be alone that's fine. If you want me to let you go I will." He hesitated and she could feel his warm breath on her neck. "But…

She teetered slightly, and ultimately rested her weight against him. His arms slid around her middle and he tucked his chin against her hair. They stood silently for what felt like minutes. Finally his voice murmured above her. "Do you want to talk about any of it?"

She felt like whipping around and pushing him away again. Obviously she didn't want to talk about it. If she wanted to talk about it then she wouldn't be beating the shit out of a punching bag. She managed to contain her impulsive snarky response and simply said, "Not really."

The truth was, she didn't know how to explain why this case hurt so much. They had failed to convict before. They had even had victims killed by the hands of perpetrators. But this one stung in a way a case hadn't in years.

Maybe it was the victim. Child victims always brought with them an added sense of injustice. There was always more at stake when the victim was a child, and the case invariably twisted with complications.

She closed her eyes and tried to settle her anxiety as a mental picture of their victim flashed across her mind. A little girl with soft brown eyes, and bouncing curls.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes. Bouncing curls. The same color and texture of her child's hair. She knew the parallels in the case made her more invested. Too invested.

"You did what you could. Sometimes," he sighed, "sometimes it just doesn't work out the way we want it to."

She felt another wave of anger over the situation flood over her, and she suddenly felt claustrophobic in his embrace. She near frantically peeled his hands off of her and stepped away, putting some space between them. Of course she knew sometimes things didn't work out. She had worked with special victims for nearly a quarter century. And he…he left thirteen years in. He couldn't take it. She could.

"I know I that." Her anger swirled around her, "I've done this forever." Her next words slipped out in a flurry of irate impulsivity. "You left. You have no idea how I," she groaned, "how I process this sort of thing. You left. I know sometimes things don't work out." Suddenly her frustration over the case bled into another tender spot. "You…you didn't work out. Us. Whatever the hell we were or are. That… that hurts more." She felt her cheeks flame as soon as the words left her mouth. She was angry. She let her guard down, and now he stood an arm lengths away from her looking like she had punched him in the stomach. She needed to get out of there. She backed away while she pulled at her taped wrapped knuckles. Tears began to cloud her vision, and she absolutely wasn't going to cry in front of him, so she turned away and hurried toward the locker room.

She made it two steps through the door, but she could hear his footsteps behind her. He wasn't going to let this go. "Liv!" He called.

She realized she couldn't outrun him and he wasn't going to give up. She spun around and he nearly plowed into her. His hands reached out and grabbed her elbow, keeping her from toppling over. "Elliot," she breathed out quietly. "I can't…" she bit her lip, and his hand drifted to her cheek, lightly brushing away the few tears that managed to escape her eyes.

"I'm sorry." He said simply, his hand held her face and his thumb lightly traced the line of her cheekbone. "I'm sorry about the case," he started, "and I'm sorry that I ever left." His blue eyes held hers captive and she couldn't look away despite the intensity of his gaze. She knew what he was going to say before he said it. It had lingered in the air between them since that godawful intervention. He tried to work around his feelings, tamping them down, knocking them back, as he tried not to come on too strong. She knew he did it for her sake, but part of the reason their relationship continued to fail was because neither of them was willing to completely throw themself off the cliff. Words like I care for you, danced around the truth. He loved her. Plain and simple. She knew it. He knew it, and suddenly she wondered what the hell they were both waiting for. He took a breath before he ultimately made the leap.

Her heart pounded mercilessly in her chest as his lips lightly brushed against hers. And then the words. "I love you," tumbled freely from his lips.

And then the dam burst.