Jackie was beginning to suspect that maybe Stabler thought she was stupid. Telling her that he'd meet her at the witness's house and texting her thirty seconds later to confirm he was on site and there was no cause for alarm; he had to think she was stupid, if he thought he could slip that one by her, if he thought she wouldn't notice.

Jackie was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them, and the second she saw the pair of them trudging through the gate in the back fence, she knew what she was looking at. The color was high in Elliot's cheeks, his neck flushed red with it, too, embarrassment, maybe, or maybe something else. Maybe it was something else that made him blush; maybe it was the same thing that had brought him to this house, so late at night, on his own, when he was meant to be in his bed with his wife and far from Olivia's side.

There was no way, she thought, no way in hell those two hadn't slept together. Maybe not since they'd been reunited in Nebraska, not yet, but back in the city; there had to have been something between them, something that Stabler was willing to risk his new career and his marriage for, something that kept him crawling back here when here was the last place he needed to be.

"All clear?" Jackie called to them as they approached.

"All clear," Stabler confirmed. His woman looked pissed, but Jackie wasn't sure why, whether Olivia was just angry about the interruption, or if it was something else. Maybe Stabler had put his foot in his mouth earlier in the evening; maybe he had done something he needed to atone for.

"What tripped the alarm?"

"I did," Olivia said. "I forgot I'd set it and I came out to get some fresh air."

To do more than that, Jackie thought; she could smell smoke on Olivia's breath, clinging to her clothes. At least it was cigarettes, and not weed. Jackie wasn't in the mood to give a lecture about following the rules to a former cop.

"You gotta be careful -"

"I know," Olivia cut her off, pouting, just a little. "I'm still getting used to all this. We didn't have an alarm back home."

"No doorman here," Stabler said, and Olivia shot him a look like she wanted to kill him where he stood.

"Well, let's get this over with then," Jackie said. Rules were rules; she couldn't just take Olivia's word that everything was copacetic. She had to clear the house, and see for herself.

"Fine," Olivia said.

She led the way, the three of them moving through the gate and across the back yard, up the short steps and through the back door and into the house. As they went Jackie pulled her gun; it wasn't necessary, but now felt like a good moment to stick to the rule book. What happened tonight couldn't happen again; whatever Stabler's reasons for being here, alone, unauthorized, he had broken the rules, and if he kept skirting the line like this, there was going to be trouble. Jackie was going to have to rein him in, and soon, or it wouldn't matter what secrets he was keeping for her. If he fucked up here, it could be both their heads on the chopping block.

Inside the house she gestured silently to Stabler - who had not drawn his weapon - pointed him toward the living room while she stepped into the dining room, the pair of them departing, leaving Olivia alone for the moment in the kitchen. The place was fairly open; it took no time at all to clear the downstairs, and they reconvened in the kitchen before heading for the second level, Olivia trailing along behind them now, barefoot and troubled.

The whole time Jackie kept asking herself the same question; what was Stabler doing here? Had he just come looking for a lay, or had his old friend called him, asked for him, desperate to see a familiar face? Were they necking when Jackie called him, or had the smoke Olivia stepped outside for been a post-coital one? Just how many times over the last seven days had Stabler found his way here, and how the fuck was Jackie going to stop him doing it again?

I'll have to put a tracker on his damn car, she thought bleakly. She wouldn't, wasn't sure that would even work, but she was gonna have to do something.

Jackie cleared the spare room and Stabler went towards the nursery, but Olivia stopped him just outside the door.

"Do you have to?" she asked quietly, plaintively. "He doesn't always sleep well, I don't want to wake him -"

"I'll be quiet, Liv," Stabler promised her gently. "I know better than to wake a sleeping baby. I've got some practice here."

That was true, Jackie figured; Stabler had a son of his own, she'd seen the picture on his desk. The boy looked to be about seven, eight maybe, dark hair like his daddy. Had Olivia ever met him? Back when she and Stabler worked together, had she been a regular fixture at weekend barbeques? Did his boy call her Auntie Olivia?

The pair of them were blocking the corridor so Jackie hung back, decided to wait to check the master bedroom until the nursery was clear, decided just to watch this scene play out. To watch as Stabler turned the door knob slowly, so, so slowly, until the latch gave way and he nudged the door open, all in silence. He wasn't kidding, about having some practice. He stepped forward into the room, and Olivia stepped with him, hovering, protective of her son, and Jackie went, too, stopped in the doorway to watch the pair of them together.

The boy was already awake. He was a cute little kid with big blue eyes and a head full of dark curls, a soft round face that vaguely resembled his mother's. Maybe he'd heard them on the stairs, or maybe their voices had carried from outside; something had roused him, and he'd rolled out of his little toddler bed, was standing beside it now on chubby little legs, his eyes gone wide with fear. Not that Jackie could blame him; she'd be scared, too, if a pair of strangers suddenly appeared in her bedroom after she'd been abruptly woken from her dreams.

The kid was up and she figured his mom would go collect him, but Stabler moved first. Before Olivia could scoop up her son Stabler stepped forward and crouched down - impressive, really, a man his age moving like that - so that he could look the boy in the eye.

"Hi, Noah," Stabler said in a soft, tender voice.

Gabe, Jackie corrected him grumpily in her mind. If this was going to work everyone needed to be on board with the kid's new name; they couldn't afford for him to get confused.

"My name's Elliot. I'm friends with your mom."

Friends. Was that what they were? It was impossible to know.

It was one of the more surreal moments of her life, watching Elliot crouching down, speaking to her son. How many times had she wished for this? How many times had she dreamed of him, of Elliot, smiling at Noah, standing beside her as she raised her son? All those dreams, and this was nothing she ever could have imagined.

"I'm sorry we woke you up," he said in that soft warm voice he reserved for children, that voice that soothed something deep within her own heart. "But you don't have to be scared. Everything's ok. We're here to keep you safe."

If anyone would protect her son, if anyone would keep him safe, it was Elliot. There was no one, save Olivia herself, who would guard her boy more fiercely. Four years changed a lot of things, but it hadn't changed that; she would trust Elliot with her life, but she would trust him with Noah's, too, with the most precious thing she had.

"Come here, sweet boy," Olivia said, stepping forward; Noah was tired, and she meant to pick him up, to put him back to bed, to soothe him while Elliot and Jackie finished their rounds, but Noah shook his head and pointed a trembling finger at his closet.

"Is there something scary in your closet, buddy?" Elliot asked him, and Noah needed enthusiastically in response.

Noah's fear made her heart constrict; his short life had been so tumultuous, the ground constantly shifting beneath his feet, and she had promised to give him a home and a steady heart to love him, had sworn to keep him safe, and instead she had torn him away from everything familiar, left him lost out here in the darkness. As hard as the move had been for her, how much more difficult must it have been for him? He was so little, and there was so much he did not understand, and she couldn't help feeling as if she had failed him, somehow. She wanted to be better, for his sake, wanted to give him a better life than this, but her hands were empty; she had nothing to offer him.

"Can we look together?" Elliot asked him, holding out his hand.

For a beat Noah considered him thoughtfully; most of the time Olivia's son did not speak, not really, but she sometimes felt as if she could hear the wheels turning in his mind, felt certain that he saw the world around him and everything in it and took it into himself, that he knew more than his silence gave him credit for.

He reached out and took Elliot's hand in his own, and the breath caught in Olivia's lungs as she watched them move to the closet together, hand-in-hand. Noah had no father of his own, no hand to hold save hers, no one he could rely on, but Elliot was here, now. Elliot was here, guarding her son, holding his hand, speaking to him so gently it made her want to weep. There was such a bittersweetness to it; she had longed for this, longed for Elliot, longed for Noah to have someone else in his corner who cared for him, who he could depend on, and seeing it unfold before her was sweet, so desperately sweet. But bitter, too, bitter as a goddamn lemon, because Elliot was not her boy's father, because Elliot had not come to her because she needed him, because she'd asked for him, because he wanted to; it was only chance that had brought him once more into her path, and if some bureaucrat had checked a different box on the paperwork this moment never would've happened at all. Elliot didn't choose her; he was only doing his duty.

At the closet he paused, and drew his flashlight from his back pocket, and then he opened the door, and shined the light inside.

"No monsters here, bud," he said as he peered into the closet. "All clear."

Noah leaned forward, craning his neck to see into every nook and cranny of the closet, and Elliot just let him look, did not rush him along or tell him he had nothing to worry about; Elliot gave Noah the time to decide for himself, and waited until the boy was satisfied before he turned off the flashlight.

"Are you ready to go back to bed?" he asked, and Noah nodded.

"Can I pick you up?"

Another question, another nod, and Olivia watched in silence, her heart breaking in her chest, as Elliot carefully picked up her baby, and settled him on his hip.

"All clear, Mommy," Elliot said to Olivia, kicking the closet door closed and walking towards her.

There were some people, Olivia knew, who were just born to be parents. Who relished the effort it took to raise children well, who loved them even when it was hard, who took to nurturing as naturally as breathing. Elliot was one of those, she thought; Elliot was meant to be a father. Not like her; she wanted a family, had grown to want children of her own, and she had done her best with Noah, but it wasn't like she'd had much of an example growing up, and there were times when she felt as if she were floundering. Elliot, though, Elliot just seemed to know. Over the years people had called him all sorts of names and made all sorts of assumptions about his character but none of those people, not the brass or the journalists or Ed Tucker, had ever seen what Olivia saw. How tender he could be, how gentle, how reassuring. None of them had ever seen what she saw now, Elliot Stabler with a baby on his hip and a soft smile on his face.

It was beautiful, she thought. A beautiful picture. A father and a son. But Elliot was not Noah's father and Noah was not his son; they were puzzle pieces that did not fit together, no matter how badly she might want them to.

I walked away because you deserved better than anything I could give you. That's what he said, that's what he believed. That she deserved better. But when he left he denied her this, denied her his presence in her son's life, his help when she needed it, his care. When he left he took his gentle hands and his devotion with him. And who was to say that he would not leave again? Or that she would not be forced to go? This moment, him standing there with Noah in his arms, it was not an omen of joys yet to come; it was, she thought, no more than a glimpse of what could have been. A moment when her eyes opened and she saw all the comfort she could have had, if only things were different. A moment, just one, and fleeting; this moment would end, and Elliot would go home to the family that belonged to him, and Olivia and Noah would be alone once more.

Quite suddenly she found she did not want Elliot holding her son at all. She didn't want Noah to get comfortable with him. She didn't want Noah to open his heart to a man who could not, would not be there for him, not in the way he needed.

"Come here, sweetheart," she said, and took her son from Elliot's arms. A darkness seemed to flicker through Elliot's eyes; sorrow, perhaps, or doubt, but he did not give voice to his concerns.

"I'll put him to bed," she told Elliot, turning away from him, not wanting to look at him even one second longer. "You go and finish your work."

"Liv -"

"Let's go, Stabler," Jackie piped up from the doorway, and Olivia's heart sank. She'd forgotten all about Jackie; how much had the woman seen? What must she think of them?

Questions for another day; Elliot had been called to heel, and he did as he was told, drifted out of the room and left Olivia to put her son to bed alone, the way she always did.