*If you haven't read Unexpected Arrivals (the first story in this series), please go do that or this will make absolutely zero sense. And if you're a returning reader, thanks so much for coming back for more!*

Olivia stared, blankly, at the tile wall in front of her.

The steaming hot shower water hit her back. She had hoped it would help wash away the events of the day, but instead it gave her quiet, uninterrupted minutes to replay the scene over and over again. Time for her to replay exactly what she had done wrong, why this whole thing could have turned out far less devastating.

She closed her eyes tight against her own thoughts.

All she could see was that walk down the hallway, the faces of her squad distant at the end of it. The expressions of each one starting to mimic her own. Grief-stricken. She would never forget the looks on their faces, the way she didn't have to say a single word for them to understand the permanence of what had just happened.

Her eyes opened again, vision blurred by tears.

DV was serious. It was serious every day and every time. She knew that, probably better than anyone, after 17 years at SVU. But the kids. She had the kids. A girl and a boy. They reminded her of her own. She was supposed to save them, but she was also supposed to save their mother and Mike. The kids were scared, terrified of their own father, and she could get them out. If she hadn't done what she did, would they have survived? Would she have?

The questions ate at her.

"Liv?"

She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts, she hadn't heard the shower door slide open.

Their eyes met, when she turned to look over her shoulder. Even with the steam of the shower, he could see she had been crying.

"Liv." It wasn't a question this time.

Elliot watched carefully as she turned the water off and stepped out.

He tried so hard to respect her vulnerability, as she stood naked in front of him for a moment before she wrapped a towel around herself, but his eyes were drawn to the scars. They always were. Those outward scars were a constant reminder for him of how he didn't save her soon enough and for her a reminder of the pieces she lost of herself. They changed the landscape of her body. They represented ones far below the surface, some mended and now new ones unraveling. He couldn't heal them any faster than they were ready, an incompetence he could not help. Those were days he wanted to erase from history, but that did not ever miss a chance to sneak into his consciousness.

Olivia could feel his lingering gaze across her body. She pulled the towel tighter around herself. He was the only person to see her whole body after that; she only trusted him. Yet, she still found moments where she couldn't handle the stares, the gentleness, the sympathy that trickled into his eyes as he thought too hard about what she had been through and what he didn't do.

He had to live with what he didn't do and now she did too.

"El." She whispered so quietly that he may have missed it, had he not seen her lips move.

She crumpled into his arms, pressing her head against his chest and the tears that had momentarily stopped, now seeped into his t-shirt. The sobs wracked her body.

It was far too familiar a feeling. Her shaking against him, the shallow breath sounds, the despair that seeped off of her.

Nearly three years after he had found her in that house, rescued her from the anguish of William Lewis, his body almost lifeless on the floor, Elliot was reminded of those days after. The countless times he held her in his arms, physically holding her together as best he could.

The situations weren't perfectly comparable, Lewis and Dodds dying, but the version of Liv he had was too similar for his liking.

"You did what you had to." He said, gently.

She pressed away from him. "Not enough."

"Olivia." He grabbed either side of her face with his hands, cool against her hot, flushed cheeks. "Those kids needed you. I would have made the same call."

The kids were much harder for her now. Not that they were ever easy, but she saw her own children in every victim no matter how hard she worked to separate personal and professional. Her daughter, who at four, was her spitting image, attitude included if you asked Elliot. Their son, just shy of two, with the same piercing blue eyes as his father, was rambunctious in a way his sister never was. These kids played into every moment and every decision.

As if on queue, small footsteps came padding into the bedroom, outside of the bathroom. "Mommm."

Liv dropped her head against Elliot's shoulder and let out a deep sigh.

"Has her mother's timing." Elliot quipped, hoping to lighten the tension in the bathroom.

Liv lifted her head, rolling her eyes and wiped at her under eyes, where her earlier tears lingered. "You got her? I just need a minute."

"Of course." Elliot left a gentle kiss on her forehead and walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

She could hear the murmuring of their conversation through the wall. The giggling and running feet filled her heart and distracted her from the day, even if just for a moment.

"He sleep in my room?" Halle's big brown eyes looked as innocent as her question was.

"Uh.. no we probably won't do that." Liv was kind, but definitive in her answer.

Elliot smirked. "Saw that coming from a mile away."

Four days post scheduled c-section, a much less dramatic delivery than her first, Olivia laid, propped up, in bed with her daughter at her side and Elliot resting on the end. The first meeting of the siblings going as well as could be expected, innocent questions about sleeping arrangements and all.

"Sleep in his room?"

"Hal, his room is our room right now." Elliot answered this time. "So you're going to have to stay sleeping in your new big girl bed."

"Can I draw picture for him?" Thank goodness for the short attention spans of a two year old.

"I bet he'd love that." Liv had barely gotten the words out of her mouth, before the little girl was scrambling off the bed and out the door, assumedly headed for her small, purple kids table that lived in her room for the creation of her art projects. The parents would joke about Halle picking a safer profession than them and becoming a sketch artist with all the time she spent scribbling. It would keep her in the "family business."

Elliot shrugged. "I at least don't think she's jealous of him."

"Let's just hope it stays that way." Olivia cooed her response to Elliot at their son.

The light brown hair on his head wasn't even remotely comparable to the full head his sister had been born with. His eyes were blue, like most newborns, but something told both parents they wouldn't change. While the hair and eyes seemed to come directly from his Stabler genes, his profile greatly resembled Halle's, meaning it really resembled his mother.

The mother Elliot stared at from across the bed. She was free of any makeup, hair in a messy knot at the base of her neck, NYPD sweatshirt on, that he was sure originally came from his dresser drawer. She shifted the baby to lay perfectly in the crevice between her extended legs, the infant gave a small stretch, but settled quietly. She was made to be a mother. She was a damn fine detective and sergeant, a real catch for the New York City police department. But she was an equally incredible mother. Elliot respected both sides of her and constantly counted his lucky stars that he got to see both the public and private sides of Olivia Benson.

"Take a picture. It lasts longer." Liv poked at him.

Elliot chuckled at being caught. "If I pull my phone out one more time…"

"You won't have a hand to grab it with the next time." Liv finished for him. "No one looks good 4 days after giving birth, El. No matter how hard you try to convince me."

"My son and I beg to differ."

Olivia shook her head. "Nice try. Colin knows better than to lie to his mama."

Being a parent and having her job was endlessly difficult, but not for a moment would Olivia change what she had with her children and Elliot. Life was loud and busy and there were constant snacks and tantrums. Soon there would be soccer games and little league and Kindergarten graduations. She had ached for years to experience those very things and sometimes the reality that they were happening right in front of her, was unbelievable. The difficult was balanced by all the good.

Silence enveloped both the bathroom and the apartment.

She couldn't avoid for the rest of the night, she knew that. But she bought herself a few minutes changing. A pair of gray sweatpants and an NYPD sweatshirt, the one she had worn home after Colin was born, were laid out on the bed. Elliot had done that, a small gesture.

"I think that sweatshirt has seen some better days."

Olivia looked down at the cuffs, small tears in the seams forming. The band at the bottom stretched out a little more every time she wore it. But she'd wear it until it disintegrated. The smell of Elliot was embedded in it, she got a whiff everytime she pulled it over her head. It had been used as a tissue by a couple of littles she knew, been spit up on, been slept in, more intimate, relationship-building moments were also threaded into its seams.

"They're watching TV and having a snack. Halle wants to know if mama is okay."

Her heart sank a little at the question. Kids were intuitive, her daughter especially.

When she had called Elliot from the hospital, tears still streaming down her face, hiding in a somewhat private corner of the waiting room, she had been nearly incoherent. There had been many texts exchanged, El knew what was happening and knew what had happened the moment he answered.

There hadn't been a loss like this since she had been in charge. She hadn't ever lost someone that she was explicitly supposed to protect from her squad. Elliot had basically refused the sergeant's exam; bureaucracy and additional paperwork weren't his things, surprising to absolutely no one. Olivia had wanted it though; she had pictured herself moving up the ranks, gaining new titles. There would be a time when Cragen would have to step away and she had hoped to step in, not fill his shoes because that was impossible, but to make her own mark in the same office. What came with that though, other than what Elliot was avoiding, was the weight of responsibility for making only the right calls at the right time.

"I'm not really okay."

"I know."

"What did you tell her?"

"Just that you had a hard day at work and you needed some time to yourself. Told her she didn't need to worry."

"Those kids got to go home to their mother. I got to come home to you guys. Dodds can't ever see his son again. How am I not supposed to carry the guilt of that?"

Elliot let out a deep breath, stepping further into the room. "No one is asking you not to feel guilty Liv. But you have to remember that you didn't do what you did for fun. You made a choice in that moment and saved those kids, from at least the trauma of their dad, but possibly more. Mike's death is not your fault, even if it is shitty as hell."

"This job is fucking hard."

"Never gets easier, either."

Olivia padded towards Elliot, his arms opened to embrace her just as shot close enough. She dropped her head to rest on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you came home to us." He whispered in her ear.