"What are we even talking about here, Elliot?" she asked him, frustrated and exhausted and trying valiantly not to cry. Christ, she was tired, tired of this whole mess, tired of the hurt, tired of wanting things she couldn't have, tired of him refusing to see the truth that was right in front of him.

"I mean…do you hear yourself? You're really gonna sit there and talk about leaving Kathy after…it was only one time."

Technically it was more like two times, but it was just one night. Just one adrenaline fueled night, tempers high and nerves frayed, both of them at the end of their rope. Just one night, just one stumble in damn near twenty years of walking the straight and narrow. And no matter how good it had been, no matter how right it felt or how it made her wet just to think about it now, no matter how badly she wanted to feel him moving inside her again, it was just one night. What difference did one night make, stacked up against a lifetime?

"You trying to tell me that once isn't enough?" he demanded roughly. "How many times would it take, Olivia? What's the magic number, here? Because I gotta tell you once was enough for me. Once was…once was everything."

It was just that he could be so fucking arrogant. So cocky, so sure of himself, so certain, while she felt only doubt. It would be offensive on any other man, the twist of his mouth, the roll of his eyes, but on him it was mesmerizing, his unwavering resolve addictive in its own way. What must it feel like, she wondered, to know? She'd never known, not really, had never looked at a man and known he was the one, the only one, the one she'd throw her life away for, the one she'd want forever and ever amen.

But he knew. Or he'd thought he'd known, once. He'd put a ring on Kathy's finger and sworn his vows to her and stood beside her for decades. If he'd been wrong about Kathy, what if he was wrong about Olivia, too?

"This isn't you," she said in an unsteady voice. "You aren't this man. You can't do this."

"Can't what?" he fired back. "Can't be selfish, for once?"

"No," she said. "No, you can't be selfish, Elliot. That isn't who you are."

It never had been. Elliot wasn't the guy who put himself first. He was a Marine, a cop, a father, a husband, a man who took his duties seriously and loved his family and would do anything for them. That was the man she loved - and shit, she did love him, it would be so much easier if she didn't - a man who was selfless, devoted, who understood her own devotion to a cause greater than herself. Who was he, if he chose to be selfish? Who would he be, if he turned his back on Kathy? Would she - could she - still love him if he showed her that he had been someone else all along?

He stared at her, aghast and open mouthed, and she drew in a deep breath, and pulled out the last knife in her arsenal, and plunged it into his heart.

"What about Eli?" she asked him quietly.

What about that little boy? That baby was the whole reason Kathy and Elliot got back together in the first place; Elliot had said so himself. The two of them, they wanted Eli to grow up in a house with both his parents, wanted to provide for him, wanted his childhood to be as stable and loving as the one their older children had known. He was still so young; how could Elliot even consider walking away from him now?

"What happens to him if I stay?" Elliot answered. "If he grows up seeing how unhappy his mother is, seeing how…what am I teaching him about love, if that's the only kind of love he sees?"

Oh, pull yourself together, she thought grumpily.

"You can't seriously think -"

"The twins were eleven when Kathy left me," Elliot said. "They weren't that much older than Eli. And we figured it out. We…we made it work. I think Dickie talked to me more when we were sharing custody than he ever did while I lived in the house. When I came back, I think…I think he stopped trusting me. And I think Eli will, too. Why would he believe anything I say, when he can see…"

"Then you don't let him see," Olivia snapped. "That's what we do. We protect our kids."

"By lying to them? Is that how you're gonna protect Noah?"

"I don't have a fucking choice," she reminded him mercilessly. "The Marshals-"

"I'm not talking about the shit with the cartel, or whatever. I'm talking about everything else. You gonna hide the truth from him forever? About his parents, about what happened to you?"

"What happened to me," she repeated, her eyes narrowing, staring daggers at him. She felt foolish, sitting there on the end of the bed with him, felt like a little kid whispering at a sleepover, but she felt vengeful, too, full of wrath with nowhere to direct it, and his words got her hackles up. He didn't know the first goddamn thing about what had happened to her -

"Lewis," he said.

That did it; she rose suddenly, sharply to her feet, all but leapt away from him, the tablet clutched in trembling hands.

Where had he heard that name? How did he know about Lewis; shit, what did he know? Until now she'd believed he had no idea about any of it, had comforted herself with the thought that he must have been in the dark, because if he'd known, if he'd known and stayed away, if he'd known, and had not come to her, it would mean that everything she'd ever believed about him was a lie. If Elliot Stabler had known how badly she was hurt, and refused to come to her aid, it would mean that he did not love her, had not ever loved her, not at all, not even a little. If he'd known, all this time, and had not said a word…she would hate him.

"Get out," she ground out from behind clenched teeth.

He stood up, but he did not make for the door. Instead he drew closer to her, approached her warily but with determination, his hands outstretched as if he meant to defend himself should she choose to strike him. And she wanted to; she really, really wanted to hit him. To pound her fists against the brick wall of him, to bloody her knuckles and scream, to rage, and rage, and rage until all this hurt was purged from her chest.

"I didn't know," he said. "I only found out a few weeks ago."

That, at least, was a relief. She'd never have forgiven him otherwise.

"And I can't stop thinking about it-"

"Oh, fuck you-"

"I can't stop thinking about how close I came to losing you," he snapped, reaching for her suddenly, his hands on her arms drawing her close to him. "I could've lost you," he breathed, his face now so close to hers that she could see the sheen of something that looked suspiciously like tears in his eyes. The nearness of him made her dizzy; he was so warm, so familiar, the grip of his hands so strong, the devotion in his gaze so fervent it made her ache with the longing to just stop, stop protesting, stop fighting, to just let him love her, as he so clearly wanted to do.

"I never would've known. You could've died, and I never would've known, and I can't live with that, Liv. If I go back to New York now, it'll be…it'll be the end. Of everything. Of you and me, forever. And when I die, you'll never know. Tell me that's really what you want."

No, her heart screamed; no. It wasn't what she wanted. The long years of her life stretching out before her, and no hope of ever seeing him again. Never knowing where he was, if he was happy, if he was thinking of her. It was different, before; a sort of possibility had colored his absence, always. He was gone, but he knew where she was, knew where to find her, had ties to the city and a reason to come back and it had always been possible, his return. There was, always, a flicker of hope. A dream, one she clung to in her darkest moments, the dream that she would see him again.

And if he left her now, the way she'd begged him to, if he did what she said and packed up his family and went home, that dream would die, forever. The ties between them would be severed, for good and all this time. They would live out their days apart from one another, never knowing what could've been, and when he died she'd have no idea. He would leave this world, and she would not know, and she'd never get the chance to hold him again.

"I don't want that," she confessed softly. "But I don't want this, either."

"You don't want -" he leaned back, fear in his eyes like he thought she was saying she didn't want him to touch her, like he was suddenly terrified he'd misjudged her completely.

"I don't want to be the reason you leave Kathy. I don't want to be the reason Eli loses his dad. I can't…I can't take you away from them. And the Marshals won't let me have you anyway."

It was only a matter of time, she thought. Only a matter of time before someone noticed that Elliot cared more about one of his witnesses than he did the others. Only a matter of time before someone caught him, and then what would become of them? The Marshals would take him from her, or her from him, it made no difference, and they would be separated just the same.

"You let me worry about the Marshals," he told her, and as he spoke he reached out and gently brushed her hair back from her face, the touch of his hand tender and sure, his eyes soft and warm. "And don't blame yourself for my mistakes. If I…if I leave Kathy, it's not your fault. All you did was give me a chance to do something I should've done eight years ago."

"How is that not my fault?"

"How are you this fucking stubborn?" he grumbled affectionately. "Look, Kath's laid up with a broken leg and you're not sure about this, so maybe…maybe now's not the time. Maybe we just…wait. Let her get back on her feet, let you take some time to hear what I'm saying-"

"Oh, I hear you-"

"And give me a chance to show you that maybe what we've got here is something worth fighting for."

It always has been, she thought. They'd fought for each other, fought with each other, fought to be near each other, for thirteen years and what they'd made together back then, that was worth it. They had a chance to make something new here, now, and Olivia desperately wanted to believe that this was worth it, too. Wanted to believe, as he did, that they could find their way through this mess, wanted to believe that they could teach their children something about love, something real, something more than stick it out, even when it hurts. She didn't want their kids, any of their kids, to hurt just because they thought they were supposed to.

"I don't think things are going to change in a few weeks."

And wasn't it kind of fucked up to even consider it, consider letting Elliot go on lying to Kathy, living with her, her not knowing he had one foot out the door while she was recovering from a broken leg? But what would be worse; for Elliot to tell her that he'd cheated on her now, or tell her in a few weeks when she was capable of leaving if she wanted to, or never tell her at all? Was there any option here that wasn't fucked up?

"I don't know," he said. "I think a few weeks might just change everything."

"You're a true believer."

"Right now, the only thing I believe in for sure is you."

It would be so easy to give in. To stop fighting, and let him sweep her off her feet. Everything he said…he sounded like a walking cliche, like every unfaithful son of a bitch who'd ever sat in the interview room at the 1-6 after plying a mistress with promises he never meant to keep.

But he wasn't just any unfaithful son of a bitch.

He was her unfaithful son of a bitch, and she knew he meant what he said.

"I think we're going to hell for this, Elliot," she said, using the words of his faith in a last-ditch effort to test his resolve. Olivia wasn't sure she believed in hell herself, sometimes. Sometimes she thought she was already there.

"At least we'll go together," he said, and then he leaned in, and kissed her. And she let him.