I know i haven't been writing tvd i know believe me but i just started law and order (not started, i am on season 23 I think) and omg im in love with olivia and eliot.

so i wrote this!!

enjoooyyy!!


Olivia Benson

Four years.

Four fucking years since Elliot walked out of that precinct and never looked back.

Not a text, not a call, not even a whispered rumor that he was okay. Just—gone.

And yet, somehow, his absence had never really left. It was in the empty space beside me in the squad room, in the silences where his voice used to be, in the way I still turned my head sometimes expecting to see his scowl—or that smirk—when I landed a punchline just right.

I told myself I was fine. That I'd rebuilt, that I'd grown, that I was more than just someone's partner.

But then, some nights, I'd sit in my apartment with a glass of whiskey, staring at the sleeping face of my three-year-old daughter, and wonder if I'd ever really stopped waiting for him to come back.

Waiting.

Dreading.

Because when he did, I'd have to look him in the eye and lie.

I shuffled the case files on my desk, trying to shake the thoughts loose. The case we'd just closed had been a goddamn nightmare—four victims, one sick bastard, and a trial that had dragged for almost a year. But we got him. Justice, whatever the hell that meant these days, had been served.

And yet, the exhaustion that clung to me wasn't from the case. It was from the weight of secrets.

A knock on my office door pulled me back.

"Liv," Fin's voice was gravelly as ever, but there was something else there—something I didn't like.

I looked up. His face was unreadable, but I knew him too well.

"This better not be some bullshit paperwork," I said, leaning back. "Because I swear to God—"

"It's not."

He shut the door. Locked it.

That was never a good sign.

I sat up straighter. "What's going on?"

Fin ran a hand over his head and exhaled through his nose. Then he met my eyes, and suddenly, I wanted to be anywhere but here.

"It's Elizabeth Stabler," he said.

The name crashed into me like a wrecking ball.

My stomach tightened. "What about her?"

Fin hesitated. Just for a second. But that was all it took for the dread to claw its way up my spine.

"She was raped, Liv."

I stopped breathing.

He kept going. "Last night. Off-campus, NYU. She got out of surgery an hour ago."

I gripped the edge of my desk, grounding myself. I couldn't fall apart. Not now. Not in front of Fin.

He was watching me carefully, measuring every reaction. He knew me too well—better than anyone else in this goddamn squad. Maybe better than anyone, period.

"You sure you can handle this?" he asked.

I bristled. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Fin said. "This ain't just any case. This is Stabler's kid."

Like I didn't fucking know that. Like I hadn't spent years pretending the sound of his name didn't send a shockwave through me.

I pushed to my feet, jaw tight. "She's a victim, Fin. That's all that matters."

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing just a fraction. "That all, huh?"

I swallowed. He didn't know. He couldn't.

But that didn't mean he didn't suspect.

"Look," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "We work the case. We get justice for her. And whatever personal shit I have to deal with—"

"You mean the personal shit you won't deal with?"

I clenched my jaw. "Not now, Fin."

He exhaled sharply but didn't push. Instead, he slid the case file onto my desk.

"We got a few details," he said. "She was walking back to her dorm from a bar near Washington Square. Security footage puts her leaving around midnight. No signs of forced entry in her dorm, which means either he followed her or she let him in."

My gut twisted.

"She say anything?" I asked.

Fin shook his head. "Not yet. She was unconscious when they brought her in. Doc says she'll wake up soon."

"And her family?"

Fin's lips pressed into a line. "You know damn well what that means."

I exhaled slowly.

Elliot.

I was going to see him.

After four years. After all the pain, the abandonment, the anger. After her.

I reached for the case file. My fingers didn't shake.

Good.

Because if I let my hands shake now, if I let myself break even a little—he'd see.

And if he saw, he'd dig.

And if he dug, he'd find the one thing I'd spent four years protecting.

His daughter.

Our daughter.

He could never know.

Ever.

I squared my shoulders. "Let's go."

Fin didn't move. He just studied me, long and hard.

Then, finally, he nodded.

"Alright, then," he said. "Let's go."

I followed him out, but with every step, the truth pressed heavier on my chest.

Elliot was coming.

And for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure I could face him.

Not without losing everything.


Eliot Stabler

I've seen death. I've seen monsters. I've seen things that would break a man's soul and never let him put the pieces back together again.

But I have never—never—felt rage like this.

It sits in my chest like a live wire, coiling and sparking, threatening to burn through my skin. My hands flex against my thighs as I sit in this goddamn hospital chair, trying to breathe, trying to think, but all I see is red.

Elizabeth.

My baby girl.

I should've been there.

I should've protected her.

The thought loops through my head like a fucking curse. I don't know what I would've done, what I could've done, but none of that matters because she's lying in a hospital bed on the other side of this door, and I wasn't there to stop it.

Kathy shifts beside me, arms crossed, jaw tight. I can feel her staring at me, waiting for me to explode. And she's right to be worried. I can barely keep my ass in this chair. I want to find the son of a bitch who did this and rip him apart with my bare hands.

But that won't help Lizzie.

So I sit. I wait. I fucking simmer.

The door opens, and the doctor steps out. I'm on my feet before he even speaks.

"She's awake." His voice is calm, careful, like he's used to delivering bad news. "She's groggy, but alert."

Kathy exhales a shaky breath, one hand pressing to her chest. I stay still, muscles wound tight.

But then the doctor keeps talking.

"The Special Victims Unit just arrived. They're going to need to speak with her."

The words land like a punch to the gut.

SVU.

Of course.

I know how this works. I spent half my life in that unit. I know they need Lizzie's statement, know they need to start the investigation now while the details are still fresh.

But the thought of them questioning her while she's still lying in a goddamn hospital bed makes my blood boil all over again.

"We'll be in there with her," I say, and it's not a request.

The doctor nods. "That's fine. Just… be prepared. This is going to be hard for her."

As if I needed the reminder.

I push through the door before Kathy can say anything else, my heartbeat hammering in my ears.

And there she is.

My Lizzie.

She looks too small in that bed, too pale. There's an IV taped to her hand, bruises blooming along her wrist. Her eyes flicker open when she hears us, and for a second, for just a second, she looks like my little girl again, the one who used to climb into my lap and babble about school and friends and dance recitals.

Then she blinks, and I see it—the fear, the exhaustion, the weight of what's been done to her.

It guts me.

I move to her side, careful, gentle, because I don't want to scare her, don't want to make this any harder than it already is. "Hey, baby."

Her chin wobbles. "Dad."

I brush my hand over her hair, swallowing against the burn in my throat. "I'm here."

She nods, but before she can say anything else, her gaze shifts past me—toward the door.

And then she breaks.

"Olivia."

My world stops.

I turn, and—

Jesus Christ.

She's standing in the doorway, Fin at her side, that detective mask pulled over her face like armor. But I see it—the flicker of emotion in her eyes when she looks at Lizzie.

Lizzie reaches for her.

Olivia moves without hesitation. She's at Lizzie's bedside in two strides, taking her hand, leaning in.

"I'm here, sweetheart," she says, her voice so soft, so steady.

And I—

I can't move.

I can't fucking breathe.

Because it's been four years. Four years since I walked out of that squad room. Four years since I let my best friend—my partner—think I didn't give a shit about her.

And now she's here, talking to my daughter like she's the one Lizzie called for in the middle of the worst night of her life.

Not me.

Her.

Kathy steps forward. "Thank you for coming, Olivia."

Olivia nods, her eyes still on Lizzie. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Kathy's fingers tighten around Lizzie's foot through the blanket. "They said you need to ask her questions."

A beat of silence. Olivia's shoulders square. "Yeah. We do."

Lizzie swallows hard. "Okay."

I want to tell her she doesn't have to do this now. That she can wait, that she can rest, that she doesn't have to relive the worst moment of her life just so we can start the goddamn paperwork.

But I know better.

Olivia knows better.

She sits on the edge of the bed, her grip firm around Lizzie's hand. "Sweetheart, I need you to tell me what happened."

Lizzie sucks in a breath. "I— I was walking back to my dorm. I was supposed to be with my friends, but I—I wanted to go home early."

Olivia nods, encouraging. "That's okay. What happened next?"

Lizzie's voice shakes, but she keeps going. "I didn't see him at first. He must've been following me."

My hands curl into fists.

Lizzie looks at Olivia, eyes glassy with tears. "He—he had a knife."

I hear Kathy inhale sharply beside me.

"He told me not to scream," Lizzie whispers. "Told me to get inside."

Jesus.

My legs nearly give out.

Olivia tightens her grip on Lizzie's hand. "You're safe now."

Lizzie's lip wobbles. And then—

Then she breaks completely.

She sobs, curling into herself, and Olivia is right there, pulling her into an embrace, holding her like she's done this a thousand times.

Like she belongs here.

Like she's the one Lizzie needs.

And I—

I don't know what to do with that.

I watch Olivia whisper to her, rubbing her back, keeping her steady.

She doesn't look at me. Not once.

She doesn't even acknowledge me.

And that's when it hits me.

I hurt her.

I didn't just leave.

I broke something.

Something I can't fix with a few apologies and a handshake.

Something I might not be able to fix at all.

She stays with Lizzie for a few more minutes, talking her through it, promising her that they'll catch the son of a bitch who did this. Then she stands, gives Kathy a nod, and walks toward the door.

I snap out of it.

I can't let her walk away.

Not again.

I follow her out, my steps quick, my pulse hammering.

"Liv."

She doesn't stop.

"Olivia."

She halts. Turns.

And when she looks at me, all the air leaves my lungs.

Her face is unreadable. Masked. Professional.

But her eyes—

Jesus, her eyes.

They used to be soft when she looked at me.

Now they're cold.

Detached.

I swallow. "Liv, I—"

"You should be with your daughter, Elliot."

Her voice is calm, but there's an edge to it, sharp enough to cut.

I shake my head. "I need to—"

"What?" she challenges. "Talk? After four years?"

I flinch.

She doesn't.

"I did what I had to do," I say, and even as the words leave my mouth, I know they're the wrong ones.

Her eyes darken. "Yeah. You did."

She turns to go.

Panic spikes through me. "Liv, please."

That makes her pause. Just for a second.

Then she exhales, shakes her head, and walks away.

And I—

I just stand there.

Watching.

Feeling, for the first time in my life, like I lost something I'll never get back.


Olivia Benson

By the time I get home, I feel like I've been running on empty for years.

My body moves on autopilot—keys in the door, shoes kicked off, bag dropped onto the entryway table. Every muscle in my body aches from exhaustion, from restraint, from holding myself together when all I wanted to do was fall apart.

I hear her before I see her.

Erica.

My baby. My heart.

Her little voice carries through the apartment, humming some nonsense song as she plays. The sound of plastic hitting the floor—probably another Barbie casualty—makes me exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

For a moment, I just stand there.

Trying to pull myself together. Trying to push him out of my head.

Elliot fucking Stabler.

I'd spent four years preparing for this moment—preparing for the day he'd walk back into my life.

And it still wasn't enough.

I still wasn't ready.

Not for the way Lizzie called my name instead of his. Not for the way Kathy thanked me like we were old friends. And sure as hell not for the way Elliot looked at me—like he was finally realizing just how deep he'd cut me.

But none of that matters.

Because Erica is here.

And she is the only thing that does.

I step into the living room, the weight on my chest easing just a fraction when I see her. She's sitting on the floor, Barbies scattered around her like fallen soldiers, her little face scrunched up in concentration as she yanks a tiny plastic dress over one of them.

"Come on, lady," she mutters, brows furrowed in frustration. "Put your clothes on."

A tired smile tugs at my lips. Jesus. She sounds just like—

No.

I shake the thought away.

Before I can say anything, the nanny spots me.

"Hey, Captain," Maria greets softly as she stands from the couch. "Rough night?"

I nod. "You could say that."

She doesn't ask. She never does. But she squeezes my arm as she heads for the door.

"She already had dinner, and she only stole one cookie, so I'm calling it a win."

I huff a quiet laugh. "I appreciate it."

Maria grins. "See you tomorrow, boss."

The door clicks shut behind her.

And just like that, it's just the two of us.

Me and my little girl.

I step further into the room, watching as Erica continues her intense Barbie negotiations. She still hasn't noticed me—too wrapped up in whatever scenario she's cooked up.

"I told you," she scolds one of the dolls, "you can't just do stuff without telling people first. That's rude."

A lump forms in my throat.

I shouldn't see him in her.

Not in the way her little fists clench when she gets frustrated. Not in the way her brows knit together when she's thinking real hard. Not in the way her eyes flicker with determination, like the whole world could be on fire and she'd still hold her ground.

But I do.

I always do.

Erica turns suddenly, finally spotting me.

She gasps dramatically, scrambling to her feet and running toward me with all the force of a toddler hurricane. "Mommy!"

I barely have time to brace before she slams into me, tiny arms wrapping around my legs.

I scoop her up without thinking, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Hey, baby."

She pulls back, little hands cupping my face. Her big blue eyes—his eyes—study me carefully, way too perceptive for a three-year-old.

"You sad?"

The breath catches in my throat.

I school my expression, force a small smile. "Of course not, sweetheart."

Erica isn't buying it.

She narrows her eyes, tilting her head like she's dissecting me.

Then she huffs, and just like that, I see Elliot again.

"Liar."

A short, breathless laugh escapes me before I can stop it.

God help me. She is her father's daughter.

I shake my head. "I'm just tired, baby."

Erica considers this for a second. Then she reaches up, tiny fingers brushing against my cheek.

I realize too late that I didn't hide it well enough.

Because her expression softens. Her little arms wrap tight around my neck.

And just like that, I can't hold it in anymore.

I sink onto the couch, clutching her small frame against me like she's the only thing tethering me to this world.

She is.

I close my eyes, pressing my face into her soft curls, breathing her in as silent tears slip down my cheeks.

Elliot is back.

And everything is dangerously close to falling apart.

But not this.

Not her.

No one—no one—is going to hurt us.

I won't let them.

Not Elliot.

Not anyone.

Erica shifts, pulling back just enough to see my face. She wipes at my cheek with her tiny fingers, frowning. "No crying, Mommy."

I sniff, clearing my throat. "I know, baby."

Her frown deepens. Then, suddenly, her eyes light up like she's just had the best idea in the world.

"Wait here."

She wiggles out of my arms before I can stop her and bolts across the room.

I watch as she rummages through her toy bin, pulling something out before racing back.

She stops in front of me, grinning wide, and shoves something into my hands.

Her favorite stuffed penguin.

"Here." She nods, very serious. "For you."

The lump in my throat swells.

"Baby, this is Penny," I say softly. "You love Penny."

Erica shrugs. "You can borrow her. She makes me not sad."

I stare at her.

This tiny, stubborn, fierce little thing I brought into this world.

She looks so much like Elliot.

And yet, she is mine.

My perfect, wild, beautiful girl.

I reach out, brushing a stray curl from her face. "Thank you, sweetheart."

She nods again, looking very pleased with herself.

Then she climbs into my lap, curling against my chest.

I hold her close, rocking her gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

For the first time since I walked into that hospital, my chest doesn't feel quite so tight.

Because Elliot Stabler may have broken my heart.

But this little girl?

She's the only thing that has ever truly mattered.

And I will never—never—let anyone take that away from us.


I'm halfway through my first cup of coffee when my phone rings.

I already know it's Maria before I check the screen.

No one else calls me at 6:30 in the morning unless it's work, and if it were work, I'd already be out the door.

Still, the second I pick up, I hear it in her voice.

"Captain," she croaks, sounding like she's been gargling nails.

Shit.

"Maria," I sigh, already bracing for what's coming. "How bad is it?"

"Bad," she wheezes. "Like, 'I can't get out of bed' bad."

There it is.

I rub my temple, trying to think. "So, you're telling me you can't watch Erica today?"

Maria lets out a dry laugh that turns into a hacking cough. "I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy, and I like Erica."

I huff. "Well, I hope so, considering I pay you to take care of her."

"You pay me to keep her alive, Captain. Liking her is a bonus."

Despite everything, I smile.

Maria is a lifesaver.

And normally, this wouldn't be a big deal—I'd call Fin, or Carisi, or hell, even Amanda, and someone would cover me so I could work from home.

But today?

Today, we're in the middle of hell week.

New cases are piling up. The squad is already running on fumes. And the last thing I need is to miss another goddamn day dealing with—

Elliot.

Nope. Not going there.

I take a breath, shake off the thought, and focus on the real problem:

No nanny.

And a very active three-year-old who needs supervision.

Which means…

"She's coming with me," I say, already making my peace with it.

Maria makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. "Well, the kid does love a badge."

"She also loves handcuffs," I deadpan. "Which is a problem."

Maria snorts. "I'll spare you the inappropriate joke I want to make right now."

"Appreciated."

"Good luck, Captain."

"I'll need it."

We hang up.

And just like that, the day gets a whole lot more interesting.

"Baby?" I call as I step into Erica's room.

She's already awake, sitting cross-legged in bed with a book in her lap—one of those picture books about dinosaurs she insists on 'reading' even though she mostly makes up the words.

She looks up at me, grinning. "Mommy!"

God, that smile.

So Elliot.

I shove the thought away before it can do any real damage.

I sit on the edge of her bed, smoothing a hand over her hair. "Guess what?"

Her eyes light up instantly. "What?"

I tap her nose. "You're coming to work with me today."

For a second, she just stares at me—like she can't quite process the words.

Then, all at once, she explodes.

"YAY!" She practically launches herself out of bed, bouncing on the mattress like she's won the lottery. "I get to go to the police!"

I laugh, grabbing her before she can fling herself headfirst onto the floor. "Jesus, kid, take it down a notch."

"But I love your work!" she declares, arms flailing. "I get to see Uncle Fin and Uncle Carisi and everybody!"

"Yeah, yeah, everyone's excited," I say, swinging her onto my hip. "Now let's get you dressed before you give yourself a concussion."

She gasps, eyes wide. "Can I wear my cop shirt?"

The 'cop shirt' in question is an NYPD tee about three sizes too big for her, a gift from Carisi after she insisted she needed to 'match Mommy.'

I roll my eyes. "Go for it, kiddo."

Erica squeals.

It's going to be a long day.

Fifteen minutes later, we're in the car.

Erica is strapped into her car seat, practically vibrating with excitement.

Me?

I'm already bracing for the sheer chaos she's about to unleash on my squad.

The kid might look like Elliot, but her energy? That's all me.

Halfway to the precinct, Erica goes quiet.

Which is a problem.

Because Erica is never quiet.

I glance at her through the rearview mirror. "What's on your mind, baby?"

She swings her little legs, staring out the window. "Mommy?"

"Yeah?"

She hesitates.

Then—

"Do I have to be a cop when I grow up?"

I blink.

That was not what I expected.

I flick my signal, turning onto the next street. "Why do you ask, sweetheart?"

She shrugs, playing with the hem of her shirt. "'Cause you're a cop."

"And?"

She frowns. "And… don't kids have to be what their mommies are?"

A lump forms in my throat.

God.

I never want her to feel like she has to follow my path.

I never want her to think she has to carry this weight—this job, this life.

I keep my voice soft. "No, baby. You can be whatever you want."

She thinks about that. "Even a dinosaur doctor?"

I smile. "Even a dinosaur doctor."

She beams.

Crisis averted.

For now.

But as I drive, I can't help but wonder—

Would she still want to be anything like me if she knew who her father was?

Would she still look at me like I hung the moon if she knew the truth?

I push the thought away.

Focus on the road.

Because today, she's just a little girl.

And today, she's going to work with her mom.

Nothing else matters.

Not yet.


Eliot Stabler

I shouldn't be here.

I know that.

And yet, here I am—sitting at my old desk in the squad room like I still belong, like I still have a right to be part of this world.

I don't.

But Lizzie's case is still open, and I need updates. And if I'm being honest, a small, stupid part of me wants to try—to fix whatever's left between me and Olivia.

Not that I expect her to let me.

I watch her through the window of her office, deep in conversation with Fin. She hasn't even looked my way.

Can't blame her.

I fucked up.

I left.

And now I'm here, four years too late, trying to piece together something that might already be broken beyond repair.

I rub a hand over my face, exhaling slowly.

I can wait.

I owe her that much.

"Hey."

A tiny voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

I look up.

A little girl stands in front of me, hands on her hips, watching me with curious blue eyes.

Something about her tugs at my chest.

She looks… familiar.

She can't be older than three, maybe four. Dark brown hair, pulled into a loose ponytail, curls spilling out around her face.

She studies me like she's trying to solve a puzzle.

"Are you a cop?" she asks.

I blink, caught off guard. "Used to be."

She frowns. "Why aren't you one now?"

I huff a quiet laugh. "It's complicated."

Her nose scrunches. "That's what Mommy always says when I ask her stuff."

I grin despite myself. "She sounds smart."

"The smartest," she says proudly.

Something about the way she says it makes me smile.

"Do you work here?" she asks.

"Nope," I say, shaking my head. "Just visiting."

She considers this. "Then are you a bad guy?"

Jesus Christ.

I smirk. "No, I'm not a bad guy."

She stares at me a little longer, like she's deciding whether or not to believe me.

Then, satisfied, she nods.

"Are you a friend of my mom?" she asks.

I freeze.

Something about this conversation shifts.

I sit up straighter. "Who's your mom?"

She grins. "Olivia Benson!"

And just like that—

The world stops.

I go completely still.

I must've heard her wrong. I had to have heard her wrong.

"Say that again," I manage.

"My mom," she repeats, like it's obvious. "Olivia Benson!"

My stomach drops.

No. No, that's—no.

That's not possible.

But I look at her again—really look at her.

And now that I know—

Now that the thought is even in my head—

I can't unsee it.

The big blue eyes. The strong little stance. The way she carries herself, like she's already in charge of the damn room.

My heart pounds.

I swallow hard. My voice is rough when I ask, "What's your name?"

She puffs out her little chest. "Erica Stabler Benson!"

The room tilts.

My head spins.

I feel like I just got punched.

My fucking name.

She has my name.

My throat goes dry. "Erica?"

She nods. "I have Mommy's name too, but I never met my other one."

My body locks up.

"Your other one?" I echo.

She shrugs. "Mommy says I have a daddy, but he doesn't live here."

I can't move. I can't breathe.

"I asked about him one time," she continues, completely unaware that she's shattering my entire world, "but Mommy got real quiet. She doesn't like to talk about him."

My chest aches.

"Do you know him?" she asks, tilting her head.

I swallow hard, forcing words past the lump in my throat.

"Yeah, sweetheart," I whisper. "I think I do."

I don't knock.

I should, but I don't.

I throw open Olivia's office door.

She looks up, startled, mid-sentence with Fin.

The second she sees my face, she knows.

Her whole body tenses.

And then—

"What the fuck, Elliot?!" she snaps.

I don't stop. I can't.

I step inside, slam the door behind me, and stare at her.

"You had my daughter?" My voice is low, dangerous, barely controlled. "And you didn't fucking tell me?"

She shoves back from her desk, standing to meet me head-on. "Oh, don't you dare," she spits. "Don't you fucking dare come in here acting like the victim."

I grit my teeth. "The victim? Olivia, I had a right to know—"

"Oh, did you?" she cuts in, eyes blazing. "Because last I checked, you left, Elliot. You walked away without a single fucking word."

My jaw tightens. "That's not—"

"No!" she snaps, pointing a finger at me. "You don't get to talk. You don't get to stand here and act like I owed you something when you didn't even have the decency to answer your goddamn phone for four fucking years."

I freeze.

She's shaking now, chest rising and falling with every sharp breath.

"You think I wanted to keep this from you?" Her voice cracks. "You think I didn't try?"

She scoffs, bitter. "I called you, Elliot. Again and again and again. And you never picked up."

The words hit me like a goddamn freight train.

I don't know what to say.

She swallows hard, blinking fast, like she refuses to let me see her cry.

"I was alone," she says, voice hoarse. "Pregnant. Terrified. And you were fucking gone."

My throat is tight.

I step forward, but she stiffens, putting distance between us.

I stop.

Breathe.

"Liv—"

Her jaw clenches. "You don't get to call me that."

Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.

She exhales shakily, rubbing a hand over her face.

Then she looks at me.

And it's not anger anymore. It's not rage.

It's just—exhaustion.

Defeat.

"She's three, Elliot." Her voice is soft now. Tired. "She doesn't know you. She doesn't need you."

The words slice through me.

But she's not done.

"So before you come in here demanding things, before you decide to play the victim," she says, voice shaking, "just ask yourself—"

Her eyes lock onto mine, and I swear she sees right through me.

"Where the fuck were you?"

And I—

I have no answer.

Because she's right.

I was gone.

And now, I don't know if I'll ever get her back.

Or—

God help me—

If I'll ever deserve to.


Olivia Benson

The second Elliot is gone, I collapse into my chair, my head in my hands.

I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

My hands are shaking.

Damn it.

I should've been prepared for this. I should've known the second he found out about Erica, he'd come storming in here, all righteous fury and wounded pride, like he's the one who got fucked over.

Like he has the right to be angry.

I press my palms against my desk, grounding myself. My mind is still spinning, replaying everything that just happened—Erica's little voice telling him her name, the way his face went white, the raw disbelief in his eyes.

The betrayal.

As if I betrayed him.

Fuck that.

I did what I had to do. I raised our daughter. I did it alone. And now he thinks he can just walk in here after four goddamn years and demand answers? Demand her?

No.

No fucking way.

The office door opens. I don't even look up.

"If you're back for round two, Stabler, I swear to god—"

"It's me," Fin's voice cuts in.

I let out a breath.

Fin steps inside, closing the door behind him. I don't have to look at him to know he heard everything.

Of course he did.

He doesn't say anything at first. Just stands there, watching me like he's deciding how to play this.

Finally—

"So." He exhales, tilting his head. "That was something."

I bark out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, no shit."

Silence stretches between us.

Then—

"You okay?"

I almost laugh. Almost.

Instead, I shake my head, leaning back in my chair. "No."

Fin nods, like that's the answer he expected. "You wanna talk about it?"

I let out a slow breath.

"He left, Fin." My voice is quiet, but there's nothing soft about it. "He fucking left. And now he thinks he has the right to be pissed at me?"

Fin watches me carefully.

"I called him," I continue. "Over and over. I left messages. I tried." My throat is tight. "What the hell was I supposed to do?"

"You did what you had to do," he says simply.

"Damn right I did."

More silence.

Then—

"You gonna tell her?"

I freeze.

My stomach knots.

I meet his gaze, and I know—I know—where this is going.

"No," I say immediately.

Fin raises an eyebrow. "That was fast."

"Because there's nothing to think about," I snap.

Fin sighs, rubbing a hand over his head. "Liv."

I shake my head. "Don't. Just—don't."

"You really think this is gonna work?" he asks, crossing his arms. "What, you think you can just pretend this didn't happen?"

I clench my jaw. "I think I can do whatever I need to do to protect my daughter."

Fin exhales, nodding slowly. "Yeah. I get that."

Something in his voice makes my stomach twist.

"But protecting her ain't the same as punishing him," he adds.

My jaw locks.

I glare at him. "This isn't about him."

Fin doesn't flinch.

"You sure about that?"

I inhale sharply, pushing up from my chair. "He doesn't deserve her, Fin."

Fin nods again. "Yeah. Probably not."

I blink.

That's not the response I expected.

"But she deserves to know," he says simply.

I shake my head, hands braced against my desk. "No."

"Why?"

"Because—" I stop, frustrated. "Because!"

He just looks at me.

I hate this.

I hate that Fin—my Fin, my goddamn partner—is standing here, calmly making me question every single instinct I have.

I throw my hands up. "Look, I get that you have some grand idea of family, but that's not what this is."

"Never said it was."

"Then what?" I demand.

He exhales, tilting his head. "I know you're hurt."

I scoff. "Hurt? Fin, I spent four fucking years—"

"I know," he cuts in. "I know, Liv. I was there. I saw what it did to you."

My chest tightens.

"But that ain't a good enough reason to keep her from him."

I flinch.

Because fuck.

Fuck.

I don't want to hear this.

I don't want to think about this.

"He's an asshole," Fin continues. "A selfish, stubborn, impulsive asshole. And yeah, he left. Yeah, he fucked up. Yeah, you don't owe him shit."

I swallow hard.

"But this ain't about him," he says. "And it ain't about you either."

I shake my head. "No."

Fin watches me carefully. "You sure about that?"

I open my mouth—then snap it shut.

Because the thing is—

No.

I'm not sure.

Not even a little bit.

Fin sees it.

He exhales, stepping back toward the door. "Just think about it."

I glare. "I don't need to."

He hums. "Mm-hmm."

Then he opens the door.

Pauses.

Looks back at me.

"You can hate him all you want, Liv," he says quietly. "But that ain't a reason to take her chance at a father."

And then—

He's gone.

The door clicks shut.

And I—

I sink back into my chair.

I exhale.

And for the first time in four years—

I wonder if maybe—just maybe—I got this all wrong.


soooo here is the first one!!!

omg i know but come ON! 26 seasons and these two haven't had a chance.

but anyways

please review and thank you!!!!