Elliot leaned against the squad car, arms crossed as Olivia approached, her bag slung over her shoulder. "Your chariot awaits," he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "I can drive myself, Elliot. I'm a big girl."

"Sure, but then what would your goons do?" he quipped, nodding toward the unmarked car parked a discreet distance away. "They've had a long day. Let's give them the night off."

She rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a reluctant smile. "I don't need a babysitter."

Elliot straightened, opening the passenger door for her. "Humour me, Benson. I've been cooped up in interrogation all day. I could use the drive."

Olivia sighed, knowing it was easier to relent than argue. "Fine. But no detours," she said, sliding into the seat.

"Scout's honour," Elliot said, holding up three fingers with mock solemnity before shutting the door and circling to the driver's side.

Elliot parked the car outside her place, cutting the engine but making no move to unbuckle his seatbelt. Olivia glanced at him, her hand already on the door handle.

"Don't," he said abruptly, his tone serious.

She froze, her brow furrowing. "Don't what?"

"Don't stay here."

Olivia exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Elliot, we've been through this."

"No, Liv, we haven't," he countered, turning to face her fully. "We don't know what Daniel's capable of, especially now. The guy hacked your life, watched your every move—hell, he's fantasizing about you in ways that make my skin crawl. Staying here alone? It's not safe."

"I can handle myself," she said firmly, though her voice softened.

Elliot didn't budge. "You shouldn't have to."

Her gaze dropped to her hands, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag. "I know you mean well, but this is my home. I'm not going to let him take that from me."

Elliot's jaw tightened, but he nodded, his respect for her resilience warring with his frustration.

"I'm coming up then," he said.

The apartment was quiet as they stepped inside. Olivia set her bag down and turned to face him. "Want coffee, or are you going to stand there glaring at my furniture all night?"

Elliot smirked but shook his head. "I'm fine."

She leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. "You think I'm being reckless."

"I think you're stubborn," he replied, his tone lighter now. "And yeah, maybe a little reckless."

She gave him a faint smile and gestured toward the couch. "You might as well sit. No sense looming there like you're waiting to interrogate me."

Elliot chuckled softly, the sound breaking some of the tension. He shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair before making his way to the couch. He sat at one end, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely.

Olivia took a moment, grabbed a glass of water, and joined him. She curled one leg under her as she settled into the opposite corner, her posture relaxed but her eyes thoughtful.

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Olivia hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "Before all this...before I knew about Daniel spying...I had this stupid idea."

Elliot tilted his head, curious, his lips quirking into a small smile. "What idea?"

She shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "I thought about inviting you, Kathy, and Eli over for dinner. I practiced the meal I was going to make. I even picked up a deck of cards so Eli and I could play Go Fish."

Elliot's smile faded. "That doesn't sound stupid, Liv."

"It does now," she said quietly, her gaze dropping to the glass on the table. "Because it's never going to happen. Not after everything..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

Elliot sat back against the couch, his arms resting on the cushions as he studied her. "You were looking forward to it," he said, his voice softer now.

"Yeah," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought...maybe there could be something normal. Something good." She glanced at him, regret glinting in her eyes. "But now? It's ruined."

After a moment, he shifted, leaning back into the couch and looking toward the ceiling. He rubbed the back of his neck, his movements slow and deliberate, as though weighing what he was about to say.

"When you moved out of my place..." he began, his voice rough with hesitation, "the house felt...empty. Off."

He glanced at her, gauging her reaction before continuing. "It felt quieter than it had in a long time. And the thing is...it felt emptier after you left than it did after Kathy did."

Olivia blinked, caught completely off guard. Her lips parted as though to speak, but she stopped herself, giving him the space to continue.

"You being there, even for a little while, made the place feel..." He exhaled, searching for the right word. "Full. Alive. Then you left, and it was like all that was gone again." He paused, looking at her quickly as if checking for any reaction, but then quickly turned his gaze away, trying to mask the discomfort with a casual shrug. "It wasn't a big deal, though. I mean, houses get quiet. That's just how it goes, right? People leave. It's whatever." He shifted again, clearly uncomfortable, running a hand over his face as if to brush off the weight of his own words. "You shared something with me just now," he said, his voice a little rougher than before, "Something that wasn't easy for you to say." He glanced at her again before quickly looking away, his eyes darting down to his hands. "Figured it's only fair I do the same, right? You know, tit for tat. I mean, we're in this weird space, so I thought...I thought I should give you something back."

Olivia's hand tightened slightly on the cushion. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but it wasn't this. His confession...this, finally, was an unspoken truth they'd both been circling for years.

"El..." she began softly, but he shook his head, offering her a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I just wanted you to know," he said simply, his voice steady but intense, "You're not the only one who wanted something...normal. Something good."

What was this? Neither of them knew. It wasn't an apology, nor a plea—it was something else entirely, a quiet exchange of truths settling like dust in the dim light.

An eternity of silence stretched between them.

Elliot turned his head to meet her eyes. "Aren't you scared to be alone here?" he asked, his voice low, concerned.

She smiled faintly. "Of course I am. I'd be lying if I said otherwise. But I learned a long time ago—when fear is the only option, you just...do it scared."

Elliot's chest tightened at her words, a mix of admiration and frustration swirling inside him. She turned her head slightly to meet his gaze, her expression calm but shadowed.

His heart broke for her—not for the strength she showed now, but for the strength she must have had to summon so many times before. He knew enough about her childhood to fill in the painful blanks: a mother who had been a victim of a violent crime, whose pain turned inward until it spilled out in neglect and abuse; a household shaped by alcoholism and chaos. She hadn't had the luxury of safety or support.

"What kinds of things did you have to do scared?" he asked quietly, his voice a low murmur that was as much invitation as it was question.

Olivia's faint smile faltered. For a moment, she didn't answer, her gaze dropping to her hands folded in her lap. When she finally spoke, her voice was distant, as though she were pulling each word from a place she hadn't visited in years.

"A lot of things," she admitted. "Things kids shouldn't have to do. Like figuring out how to cover up for my mom when she'd forget to pay the bills, or when the landlord would show up banging on the door. Learning how to make dinner out of scraps because she was too drunk to get up. And trying not to flinch when she'd start yelling—because if I flinched, it only made her angrier."

Elliot stayed silent, his jaw tightening as he absorbed her words.

"And then there were the nights," she continued, her voice softening. "Nights when I'd lie awake listening to her stumbling around, breaking things, screaming at someone who wasn't even there. I'd think, 'What if she hurts herself? What if the cops show up?' And then I'd think... 'What if she hurts me?'"

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. "But I couldn't run. Couldn't hide. So I'd just...stay where I was. Do it scared."

Elliot shifted closer, his movements careful, deliberate. He wanted to say something—anything—but there was no undoing the weight of what she'd carried.

"Liv..." he said, his voice thick with emotion.

She looked up at him then, her expression both defiant and vulnerable. "It's not like I had a choice, Elliot. You learn to live with fear, or you don't live at all."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his head shaking slightly. "You shouldn't have had to do that," he said, his tone laced with anger—not at her, but at the unfairness of it all.

She shrugged lightly, the gesture almost resigned. "A lot of kids have it worse."

"That doesn't make it okay," he shot back, his voice quiet but firm.

They sat in a heavy silence then.

Olivia hesitated, then glanced at the TV, her fingers tapping on the armrest of the couch. "How about we put on a movie?" she suggested quietly, her voice almost hesitant, as if she wasn't entirely sure of her own request.

Elliot blinked, surprised. Olivia was usually so self-sufficient, so resolute in her independence. But tonight...there was something softer about her, something unguarded, as if the vulnerability they'd both shared had shifted something between them. It was subtle but there—like a veil had lifted, and for just a moment, she wasn't the tough, untouchable cop. She was just...Olivia. And that change, however small, felt significant. It felt like a way in.

"Yeah, sure," he said, his tone steady despite the surprise. He wasn't keen on leaving, not with Daniel still out there somewhere. And honestly, neither of them had the energy to keep their guard up. They could both use a break.

He sat back as Olivia grabbed the remote, flipping through streaming options until she landed on something old, something light. "How about The Princess Bride?" she asked, the barest smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Elliot chuckled. "Can't go wrong with that," he agreed.

They settled into their spots on the couch, each at opposite ends, the cushions between them a visible space that neither was rushing to close. The screen flickered to life, and the opening music began to play, the light from the TV casting shadows on their faces. They ordered pizza—extra cheese, of course—and as they ate, they stayed in their separate corners, maintaining the subtle boundaries they'd set.

Somewhere near the end of the movie, with the lights dimmed and the quiet hum of the TV filling the silence, Olivia's breathing deepened. She hadn't intended to fall asleep, but the exhaustion from the day caught up with her. Her body relaxed, and her head slowly sank lower, finding its way to Elliot's shoulder. It wasn't a conscious decision, just the body's need for rest.

Elliot's heart stuttered for a brief moment, but he didn't move, letting her settle, letting her sleep in the safety of the quiet room. He had never expected the evening to take this turn, but here they were—sharing a moment neither had planned for, yet both seemed to crave. In the stillness of the room, with only the soft hum of the TV playing in the background, it felt like they'd stepped out of the chaos they'd been living in, if only for a short while. For a moment, there were no shadows of Daniel looming over them, no fear gnawing at their edges. Just the two of them, together, and it felt almost...normal.

But Elliot's mind was racing, conflicted. His chest tightened as he tried to focus on the moment, but a surge of emotions swirled inside him. His heart thudded harder in his chest, and he couldn't ignore the warmth flooding his face. He felt like a teenager again, his thoughts tangled in a mess of things he shouldn't be feeling. She was Olivia. His partner. The one he'd always tried to see as a little sister—someone he needed to protect, someone he cared for deeply. That was the line he'd drawn in his mind, the boundary that made it easier to compartmentalize everything. But tonight...tonight everything felt different. Her closeness, the vulnerability she had shared, the softness of her presence against him—it made his heart race in a way he didn't want it to.

This was not a time for confusion. He had a wife. He had responsibilities. He couldn't entertain feelings like this, no matter how madly his heart was beating in his chest. He pushed those thoughts down, focusing on the quiet, on the peacefulness of the moment. It wasn't the time for anything more, and besides, Olivia wasn't asking for more. She was just here.

Eventually, Elliot himself dozed off. The comfort of having her there, the warmth of the couch, and the low hum of the TV blended together until he couldn't fight it anymore.

When Olivia woke some hours later, the screensaver was on the TV; the soft images of some landscape drifting slowly across the dim light of the room made everything feel dreamlike, and for a moment, she felt disoriented, unsure of where she was. But then the familiar scent of Elliot's cologne hit her—a rugged, earthy scent of pine tar soap—and the fog of sleep lifted. She blinked, her surroundings coming into focus, and then realized exactly where she was.

Her head was still resting against Elliot, his arm now fully around her, holding her in place as he slept soundly beside her. Her head was still resting against him, but now, as she came to full awareness, she realized her face was nestled against his chest, her cheek pressed into the fabric of his t-shirt. A slight, mortifying realization hit her as she noticed the small, damp spot on his shirt where her lips had rested. Her stomach dropped. Oh god, seriously? I drooled on him? She felt her face flush with heat.

And then there was the matter of how she felt, which was even worse. His scent, the warmth of his arm around her, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek—it all made her feel like the ground had shifted beneath her, and she wasn't entirely sure what was real anymore. Why was she thinking about him like this? It was Elliot. Her partner. The guy who could make her roll her eyes in exasperation and laugh with his ridiculous antics all in the same breath. He was a huge doofus, for crying out loud. He'd always been there, dependable, solid, someone she could count on without question.

But now...now she couldn't stop noticing how good he smelled. Like pine and the outdoors, rugged and real, the kind of scent that made her want to bury her face deeper into his shirt. And why was she feeling this pull, this strange intoxication? Was she going mad? She'd always been so careful to maintain boundaries, to keep things professional, but now...now she was pressed against him, her heart racing like it had a mind of its own.

Olivia quickly tried to suppress the thoughts that bubbled up, desperate to focus on anything but this. Get it together, she silently chided herself. She wasn't some teenager with a crush. She was an adult, and this was Elliot—her colleague, her partner. But still, the warmth of his body, the softness of his chest under her head, the steady rhythm of his breathing...it all felt too intimate. Too...right.

Her heart gave another small flutter, and she froze in place, unsure of what to do next. She couldn't stay there, lost in this moment, no matter how comforting it felt. Slowly, carefully, she tried to pull away, not wanting to disturb his sleep. The movement was slow, deliberate, but the moment her body shifted, she felt the cool air of the room nip at her skin, the harsh contrast making her acutely aware of just how close they had been.

She stood up slowly, stretching her stiff limbs, every part of her rebelling against the motion after so many hours of sitting still. But she didn't want to wake him, didn't want to break the quiet peace that had settled between them. So, she moved as quietly as she could, her pulse still racing, and her mind a whirlwind of confusion.

"I'm going to bed," she whispered. Her voice was quiet but steady as she glanced back at him with a soft smile. "You're welcome to stay on the couch, though."

Elliot stirred, his eyes opening slowly, groggily. He blinked up at her, confusion clearing from his face as he registered her words and the situation. "Liv?" His voice was rough from sleep, low and a little raspy, but there was no alarm in it—just a calm understanding.

"You sure?" he asked, his tone still thick with drowsiness but laced with hesitation, as though he knew what her offer might cost her.

She nodded, giving him a small but reassuring smile. "Yeah. Don't worry about it. You don't have to leave." The words came out naturally, but her heart beat just a little faster as she said them.

Elliot's brow furrowed slightly, and he sat up a little more, watching her carefully. He thought about Daniel—about that night when Olivia's boundaries had been tested in the worst way. When what had started as persistence had quickly turned to a kind of quiet threat, a dark shadow of entitlement that had made her feel trapped in her own space. She'd feared, in that moment, that his refusal to take no for an answer about staying on the couch might escalate—that he'd feel emboldened to cross other lines. It was the clearest red flag that things with him weren't what she'd thought.

Elliot knew all of this. And now, here they were, navigating a situation that must have felt like a ghost of that night. He felt a pang of guilt that he was part of this equation at all, even if it was under entirely different circumstances.

"You don't have to do this, Liv," he said softly, his voice careful but sincere. "If this feels...weird, I can go."

Olivia hesitated, the weight of his understanding settling over her. She looked at him, meeting his eyes—steady, honest, and so unlike Daniel.

"It's fine, El," she said after a moment, her voice quiet but certain. "I trust you." The words hung in the air, and she realized she meant them. This was different. He was different.

She turned halfway to the door but paused, as if suddenly remembering something. "I'll get you some blankets," she said, looking back at him with a small nod.

Elliot shook his head, sitting up fully now, his hand running over his jaw. "No need," he said, his voice clearer, though still soft. "I'll figure it out. You just go to bed." He gave her a small, gentle smile, one that was both reassuring and awkward, as if he wasn't quite sure how to make this moment easier for her but was determined to try.

Olivia hesitated again, taking in his expression, the care in his tone. It felt strange, this level of vulnerability between them—like they were balancing on some invisible line neither of them had ever dared to cross. But there was also something endearing in his awkwardness, the way he tried to make this easier for her even when it wasn't entirely comfortable for him, either.

"Alright, El. Thanks," she said softly, her lips twitching into a faint smile. She lingered for a moment longer before finally turning toward her bedroom.

Elliot watched her go, listening as the soft click of her door echoed in the quiet apartment. He exhaled slowly, leaning back on the couch as the faint hum of the TV filled the space. He grabbed a nearby throw pillow and adjusted it behind his head, his mind replaying the exchange. He hoped she felt safe enough, that she wouldn't wake later on regretting her decision.

For Olivia, the echoes of her past lingered as she slipped into her bedroom, but they felt distant now, like a faint shadow that no longer had the power to trap her. She trusted Elliot. And as strange as it was to have him here, it didn't feel like a threat. It felt like safety. It felt...right.