Olivia went to work and, after he finished his breakfast, Elliot went to the gym. It was a 24 hour place a few blocks from her apartment, busy that time of day but not unbearably so. A few days a week Elliot worked the opening shift at the gym, made a little money and got himself a free membership in the process. It wasn't a bad gig; the work was easy, and everybody knew him, and it felt almost like having friends, walking into that place and seeing people smile and wave at him. He wasn't working today, was only going in for his own workout, so he'd gotten to sleep in a little, and that was nice. Between the gym and the bar he was making money now, not a lot but enough to help Olivia with expenses, and that was nice, too.

It was all just…nice. Fine. A decent life. A warm home, a beautiful woman who meant the world to him, a few dollars in his wallet, steady, honest work. A decent life, but not his. There was a sensation like a scream needling at the back of his brain. What was the point of it, that's what he kept wondering; what was the point of any of it? He liked the work but it wasn't solving crimes, wasn't saving lives. There was no adrenaline in it, and he found very little purpose. As hard as things sometimes got, in his old life - his real life - he had always had purpose. Put food on the table, show Dickie how to be a good man, help people, make it mean something. Make himself mean something. Maybe he could've meant something to the customers at the bar, the regulars at the gym, but it didn't feel like that's what he was doing. It just felt like coasting, a little bit. Like the only thing that kept him hanging around was her.

Which was true, probably. Olivia, she was his purpose now. The bright spot in his days, the one person he was beholden to, the one person he poured all of his care and devotion into. She was what kept him moving, what made him get out of the bed in the morning, the thing he looked forward to most at the end of a long day, the reason he was trying, so goddamn hard, to make this life work. For her; it was all for her. And that was enough, wasn't it? It wasn't saving the world or catching killers but it mattered, didn't it? Saving one soul, that was worth it. Right?

It was nice, and it was working. That's what he told himself while he labored at the gym, spent a half hour on the treadmill for cardio and then moved over to the weights. This thing he had going with her, it was working. She wasn't drinking too much - or really at all - anymore, and she smiled at him sometimes, and her steps were lighter. She made him laugh, electrified him every time he touched her, gave him something to hold on to.

But.

There was always a but, wasn't there? And it was there now, hovering in the air, something he didn't want to think about, something his brain shied away from. He cared for her but. Loved her, even, maybe, but. Life was good here, but.

It wasn't his life.

His heart ached for the kids. He was missing them, in a way that felt like dying. Couldn't stop thinking about them, wondering what they were doing, wondering what they thought had happened to him. Back home, in the universe he came from, had he vanished? Or had he died? Was there a body for them to mourn, a casket for them to bury next to their mother's, or did they just think he'd vanished? Were they still waiting, months later, for him to come home, holding on to a desperate hope? What had it done to Eli, losing his father? Christ, Eli was just a kid. Old enough for college, just learning how to navigate the world on his own, and his siblings would help him but it wasn't the same, Elliot knew that. He'd orphaned his kids, and Liv's, too.

Who had taken Noah in? Who was caring for the boy now? Was he with Rollins and Carisi, crammed into a too-small apartment with three other little kids? How was he navigating that, when he'd always been an only child before? It shouldn't have been like that, Elliot thought; he should've been there for Noah. No one would know better how to care for him than Elliot. He might not have known the kid well but he knew Liv, and he knew how she'd want to raise her son. It should've been him, but instead he was trapped here, and Noah was on his own.

It wasn't his fault. He kept reminding himself of that; he couldn't feel guilty for not going back when he didn't know how to go back. There didn't seem to be any way to make it happen. A man couldn't hate himself for not doing the impossible. He did, though. He did hate himself, just a little. Felt guilty every time happiness bubbled up in his chest because what kind of a man, what kind of a father, could be happy after he abandoned his children?

Maybe he could try to find them here. At least look them up, if not speak to them. At least make sure the kids in this world had everything they needed. But then where was Noah? Had Olivia ever crossed paths with him at all? How had she even found him to begin with? Elliot knew Noah was adopted but way back when the adoption agencies had turned Liv down and Elliot didn't know what had happened to make them change their tune. Was it a case? Was he like Calvin, had his mother turned her rights over to Liv? If he only knew, if he'd only bothered to ask, maybe he and Olivia would have a starting point, would at least know where to begin looking for the kid. Liv would want him to look for Noah, Elliot thought. Liv would want him to make sure her boy was safe.

He wrapped up his workout and dragged his feet on the walk back home, showered at the apartment and got dressed there thinking about Noah. Maybe he could ask Olivia, see if she was interested in finding the boy. Maybe if they found Noah they could do something for him. Maybe if he was in foster care or something Olivia would want to bring him home. Maybe they could do that much; maybe that would feel like penance.

The adoption agencies will like us better if we're married, he mused as he tugged on his pants, but the thought drew him up short.

Could he really do that? Could he really settle into forever with Olivia? What would that even look like?

Probably, he figured, a lot like their relationship looked right now. Working and fucking and fighting, safe with one another, getting through the days together. He was already living in her apartment, sleeping in her bed, working on finances with her; what would change, really, if they kept doing the same shit they were doing now with the addition of rings on their fingers?

Everything would change, he thought. It'd be the final admission of defeat, the final abdication of all his responsibilities back home. He'd promised himself he was gonna make a go of it here, make this life the best he possibly could, and he was pretty sure he'd done that, but still a piece of his heart recoiled from the finality of it all. He'd never been a quitter; it didn't come naturally to him. He wasn't sure he could live with himself if he erased the thought of home completely.

As he finished dressing he shoved his hands in his pockets, and startled when he found something inside. He pulled it out, and stared at it for a long, long time.

It was the necklace. The one he'd bought for Liv, the one he'd never had the chance to give to her. A golden compass on a delicate chain. Point you to happiness, that's what he'd decided he was going to say when he gave it to her. Liv who was lost, and trying to find her way back to him, he'd bought the compass for her, to light her way home.

He sat down heavily on the end of the bed, rubbing his thumb over the face of the compass. What would she want him to do? It was a question he'd asked himself more times than he could count during the decade they were apart. What would Liv want from him? What could he do that would make her proud? What would it take, to make her think that him leaving her was worth it?

She'd understand, he thought. She'd understand that he was lost, that he had no guide, no map to follow to bring him back home. It wouldn't make her hate him, him not going back; she'd understand he couldn't. But would she understand this? The way he'd embraced Olivia, the way he was doing all these things for Olivia that he'd never done for her? Would it make her angry, if she saw that he'd learned his lessons, about not pulling away, about asking the hard questions, about showing up when he was needed, and someone else was reaping the benefits of it? What would she do, he wondered, if it was her in his place?

Christ, how would he feel if it was her? If she was the one who'd found her way into another Elliot's bed?

He'd hate it, he thought. It would've made him furious. He would've kicked his own ass.

She wouldn't, though, he thought. She wouldn't sleep with him.

Would she?

Didn't Olivia kinda prove that she would've? That without all the history and the misery and all the things they'd never said she would've fucked him? Would've loved him, even?

Maybe that's what Liv had deserved all along. A better version of him. A version of him who could love her, who she could love, without fear.

Love.

Was that what he felt for Olivia? He kinda thought so; he wanted to be near her, all the time, wanted to touch her every chance he got, wanted to protect her, provide for her, claim her. Did she love him? That question was harder to answer. She'd opened her door, her arms, her bed to him, but he wasn't sure she'd opened her heart. There was a wariness in her, still, an uncertainty, as if she didn't trust this, didn't trust him. And why should she, trust him completely, when they'd known each other such a little while?

What a fucking mess, he thought, turning the compass over in his hands. Olivia had asked him if he'd thought about pawning it, once, and the very idea of letting it go had turned his stomach. Still did; he couldn't bear to be parted from it. Liv had never even touched the thing but it was hers, still, was meant for her, and so long as he had it he had a piece of her. A tether, connecting him back to the life he should've had. Maybe one day he'd look at it and not feel like it was ripping his heart out of his chest; maybe one day it wouldn't make him ache. Maybe one day he'd give it to Olivia, and maybe then he'd know peace.

Not yet, though. Not today.

Today he looked at that necklace, and thought about Liv, thought about her cheek brushing his in her kitchen and the warm rush of her blood beneath his hands. Thought about stakeouts and confessions and cartons of takeout in the squadroom, thought about her hair cut short and flowing long, thought about hospital corridors and the sidewalk in front of the courthouse. Thought about home, and wished, with everything he had, that he could go back; wished, and then felt guilty for it, because going home would mean leaving Olivia alone with nothing, and he couldn't stomach that, either. He wanted to save them both, to love them both, and he was never gonna be able to, and the wanting was tearing him in half.