As soon as she stepped into what seemed to be the heart of Paris, there was no wiping the smile off of her face. Her mind played music to her as if it were the soundtrack playing in the movie of her life. The jazzy riff intro from Begin the Beguine. The instrumental version, of course. The Boston Pops Orchestra version played on her playlist more than any song. She always loved the glorious swell of the song and the way it made her heart beat like a drum.

With a deep inhale, she smelled the scents that Paris had to offer. Sweet coffee and fresh baked goods. She was in heaven. Of course, New York would always call to her like a bird in the night. But Paris? It was far too lovely to be dwelling on her hometown right now. Look out, City of Dreams; She was in the City of Love now.

She had forgone her usual style of tight black business apparel, instead choosing to match her outfit to how the city of love made her feel. A pink tweed jacket with a matching skirt, pairing it with a cream colored beret and stockings. The fall breeze cooled her cheeks that had flushed in bliss.

Elliot was in line at a cafe not too far, just as excited as she was. However, he had seen Paris before, in all of its glory. What excited him most was her child-like admiration for the beautiful place. While she was busy taking in the sights, he was busy watching her do so.

He surprised her from behind, holding out a croissant in front of her. "Pour toi mon amour," he smiled, whispering seductively.

She turned into him, smiling as she cupped his cheeks and kissed him. "Merci beaucoup," she giggled, biting her bottom lip before pulling away to relieve him of the food he was holding. She took her coffee and croissant, sitting down across from him at one of the wrought iron tables in the park.

When he sat across from her, his smile had blossomed into one unlike anything she had seen from him. He was enamored with her and her amazement. He'd ditched the sunglasses before they had even made it to the park, realizing that either nobody recognized him or nobody cared.

"What are you smiling at?" she laughed as she questioned him. It was pure and total delight between the two of them since their arrival. There was nothing standing in the way for once. No nosey coworkers or tabloids looking for their next cover piece. No sneaking around or discreet rendezvous.

He reached across the table, taking her hand into his.

It was just them.

"Paris becomes you, my dear." His face softened as his thumb stroked the top of her hand. He'd had a lifetime of experiences already, some with her and most without. However, there was a sense of renewal now that he was able to experience it all over again with her by his side. In some ways, it was even better this way. Her joy was enough for him. More than enough.

"Well, might I just say that Paris becomes you as well?" she smirked, taking a sip from her beverage. "I know you're a bit of a coffee snob, so please pardon me while I say this but this is the best coffee I've ever tasted," she marveled as he laughed at her.

"It's a bit wild to think that if I wanted to, I could lean over right now and just kiss you. In front of everyone. I've never gotten to do that before."

His eyes glittered, she could've sworn it.

She blinked a few times, shyly pushing her croissant away. "What's stopping you?"

His brows raised at what he assumed to be a rhetorical question. Nothing, not a goddamn thing was stopping him. He stood up, taking a step to where she was still seated. She stared up at him with a cheeky grin, daring him. He leaned down, bringing his hand to her chin as he kissed her. She felt the air leave her lungs as his tongue slipped between her lips to explore her mouth.

It took willpower to hold back the moan that came as soon as he pulled away. Without fully standing back up straight, he smiled down at her. "I suppose nothing was stopping me."

Her head was a blur now - a fuzzy euphoric mix of love and excitement. In some strange sense, she wasn't used to this kind of thrill. The thrill they had been accustomed to was that of potentially being caught. This time, there were people. Hundreds, even. So many eyes and so little care. Whatever she had been afraid of losing with him before, she'd found it in spades.

"So," he said, sitting back down across from her. "How about we visit the Louvre? Head back to the hotel after that and order some of that 5 star room service? Watch the sun set behind the Eiffel Tower?"

The rate of her beating heart nearly doubled. "You sure know how to romance a girl, Mr. Stabler." Olivia muttered breathlessly.

It was strange - to be standing beside him in a crowded museum. On the off chance they went anywhere together, he usually paid whoever he had to pay in order to make the passersby leave. She thought maybe she would hate it; the lack of privacy. But no, it was actually enjoyable. It felt freeing to hold his hand and not care who saw.

Together, they stood side by side inspecting the notorious Mona Lisa. In the Salle des États, it was encased in bulletproof glass with a railing barring anyone from coming too close. Both of their heads cocked to the right, looking at the miraculous art from the angle. Her hand was still in his, enjoying the new home it had seemed to find.

"You know —" Elliot started, neither of them taking their eyes off of the painting. "I studied art history in college. Specifically, da Vinci."

From the corner of his eye, he could see her smirk. "You? Studying art history? Okay, lay some facts on me."

He laughed at her questioning of him. "It's possible that the Mona Lisa is actually unfinished as da Vinci's right hand was partially paralyzed around the time he was putting the finishing touches on it. Some also believed it was a self-portrait of the man himself. And for a short period of time, it came to America at the request of Jackie Kennedy."

She nodded, still unable to drag her eyes off of the piece of art. "What else?"

"In 1911, it was stolen. Interestingly enough, Pablo Picasso was one of the suspected thieves of the painting as well as his friend and art critic, Guillaume Apollinaire. People believed it since the two of them expressed their disdain for the art displayed here in the Louvre. However, they were exonerated after it was found out that the theft had been orchestrated by a handyman who worked here."

Olivia's gaze at the painting finally broke as she turned to him. "I suppose you know your stuff after all."

"There's also a large conspiracy surrounding the painting itself. The Mandela effect; false memories shared by several people. While some people believe the question of the Mona Lisa was always if she was smiling, the real question asked is what is she smiling about." He turned to look at her, grinning as she looked just as mesmerized by him as she did by the painting.

"Strange... I always remembered asking if she was smiling." Olivia replied.

Elliot stared into her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Interesting, I always remember wondering why."

They always had tension, and they always would. There were too many differences between them to not have tension. However, it felt different now. As if maybe there was a bit more of a spotlight on it. Standing in a crowded room with him always felt like it was just the two of them, but now the air was thick and crackling with something undeniable.

In some strange way, she felt the urge to almost reintroduce herself to him. With a smile and a near breathless tone, 'Hi, I'm Olivia.' Because for once, there was no shield up. They weren't in the city where anyone could look over and see the spark between the two of them. They were in a field of people who didn't know who they were, and cared even less.

Here, they were just people. He wasn't the CEO of a big company and she wasn't the daredevil assistant working under him to try to climb to his level.

She turned away from him, absent-mindedly admiring the other works around the room. Elliot remained standing in the same place, watching her begin to wander. "I know you're scared, Liv."

When she turned on her heel to give him a confused look, she saw him smiling sadly. "Scared? Scared about what?"

"The spark," he replied. "Scared that one day we're gonna both wake up and realize that we had let it get away from us. That we'd let it burn out."

Her brows furrowed as she glanced down at the floor. She didn't like it when he was in her head — at least not like this. "Yeah, I supposed I was a little bit afraid." She took an apprehensive step back towards him. "Relationships like ours, they're different. They require a different type of care."

"It used to," he corrected her, taking a step toward her and reaching for her hands. She looked up at him with vulnerable eyes as she felt his thumbs stroke over the tops of her hands. "Relationships like the ones we started off with, those require that special type of care. Ones where it's nothing but physical hunger - that feeds off of spark because that's all it can have."

He could see the slight confusion on her face. "But what we have now... doesn't?"

"It hasn't for a long time," he confirmed. "You know why? Because relationships that have love and romance and sex don't just thrive off of spark and spark alone. They thrive off of hope and care. The spark isn't as hungry when its being fed by more than just sex. Instead, we grew. We moved upwards and what our relationship started requiring has become less about surviving and more about thriving."

She felt sheepish under his crystal blue stare. "Is uh — is that why you weren't afraid? Less risk, less adventure? Because we stopped needing those things?"

He nodded.

"That's not all I'm afraid of," she admitted, her voice dropping down to a near inaudible level. "I'm afraid that, back in the city, we're going to have to hide so much that hiding will turn into avoidance. I guess, I wanted to get away because I wanted to make sure that you and I got to experience what love could be like uninhibited. Just in case there came a time where it was all we had left to hold onto to get us through. I wanted the same thing in Santorini even if I wasn't ready to admit it to myself. I wanted to know that if New York ever became impossible, we could love each other anywhere."

He brought her closer, wiping away the falling tear from her cheek with his thumb. His thumb slipped down her jawbone as he cradled her face. "It never mattered where we were, because we were falling in love."

"You always have been the romantic one, haven't you?" Olivia chuckled through a teary smile.

"Well, there's billions of people on this planet and yet you chose to love me. That's a lot to live up to," he smiled back, leaning down to capture her in a kiss.

It surprised her how she could still be shocked at such beautiful things. Her hotel room, for example. Why she was even surprised, she didn't know. It wasn't like she was expecting to shack up in a Motel 8. But a suite at the Shangri-La Paris still made her jaw drop.

It was everything it had ever been in the movies. Open and airy, everything a beautiful creamy color with a terrace that overlooked the Eiffel Tower. She wondered if Elliot was used to it now; if the novelty of wealth had worn off. If it had, he hadn't become a snob about it. It just seemed to be his version of normal. The best of the best.

She laid her luggage on the bed, unpacking it so she could reach her cosmetics bag. In the next room, Elliot was on the phone. Kathleen had called him to say goodnight, despite the time difference leaving her in the mid-afternoon.

"Yeah sweet pea, I'm all settled in. Safe and sound."

Olivia smiled. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but the words that echoed off of the walls made her heart swell.

"You got an A on that test? The one we studied for? My girl! I'm so proud of you, Katie. We'll celebrate when I get back, yeah? Some pizza and ice cream? How's that sound?"

Olivia could hear the smile in his voice. He was a good dad. She knew he struggled with being a good father in the beginning — consumed by his fears that he would somehow wrong his daughter. But the truth was that he really was a great father and an amazing man.

"I'll see you in just a few days, alright? If you're on your best behavior, I'll bring you back a present too, how's that? I love you too, sweet pea."

She listened as he hung up the phone, retreating into the bedroom where she stood at the foot of the bed. He grinned at her as he slipped his phone into his back pocket. Without exchanging any words, he walked over to her and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist.

Her hands came up to his cheeks, feeling the stubble that was beginning to grow onto his face. Through the open door to the terrace, they could hear slow jazz music that seemed to follow them wherever they went.

The sun was beginning to set in the distance, turning the sky behind the tower from joyful blue to a glowing orange. Neither of them were actually enjoying it though - too entranced with one another.

The white hotel robe she was wearing swayed with her as he rocked her side to side.

She was drowning in those blue eyes. A happy and welcomed death.

"Passing ships," he whispered.

She looked at him with confusion.

"You and I, we were supposed to be just... passing ships. We were always going in our own directions, now look at us."

She beamed at him, her cheeks glowing with affection. "Oh how the mighty have risen?"

He laughed quietly, learning to rest his forehead against hers as he cradled her in his arms. "I think, no matter what happened, we would've always found our way back to each other. I can't imagine a world where we wouldn't have."

She feels his skin thrum against hers, allowing it to express whatever was left that Elliot couldn't convey about his feelings. Not that there was much left unsaid. He did have quite the way with words — a way she would never have. He always knew what to say and how to say it in just the right way to make her ache.

He always made her ache.

"Can I ask you something, El?"

"Always."

She took a deep breath, her brown eyes turning soft and innocent. "In the beginning... did you think you'd fall in love with me?"

He hums as he mulls over her question, still swaying their two bodies together to the distant music that floated in. "Honestly?" his head cocked to the side. "I'm not sure. I just knew there was this... pull? Like I just had to be close to you or all of the birds would fall out of the sky."

"So, it wasn't just sex to you in the beginning?" she questioned, her expression turning cheeky right in front of his eyes.

He chuckled softly. "I think the best way I can describe it is that I would've taken what I could get and would've been happy. I knew in the beginning that, to you, it was supposed to be just sex, and I was okay with that. But I just wanted you in any way you'd allow me. I never thought I'd be lucky enough to have all of you."

She wanted to tell him that he was being sappy, but somewhere in her heart, she loved it. Even if it made her skin crawl just a little bit, she loved that someone could look at her and feel all of those things. "It's funny that you mentioned being happy, because if I hadn't met you, I think I would've gone my whole life believing I was somewhat happy. Now I know the truth."

He raised his arm with her hand in his, allowing her to gently spin along with the music. As soon as she was back to facing him, she was abruptly pulled up against his chest. "And what truth is that?" he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

Her breath had been stolen from her lungs as soon as she was nose to nose with him. "The truth? That being happy and being complete are two different things — and that without you, I am neither."

Instead of harshness, the kiss was feather light against her soft and pliable lips. He secured her in his arms as he leaned forward, her back arching as he slid his tongue between her lips. Her hands came up to cradle his face as he held tighter onto her. The plush white robe draped down her shoulders, falling just enough so that her warming neck and collarbones were exposed.

Despite the colder weather and gloomy skies that had taken over New York in Autumn, her skin was still glowing bronze from the summer tan she had acquired.

She considered herself to be a person of great restraint. Most would disagree given her history, but they hardly ever knew of the things she had restrained herself from. For the longest time, falling in love was one of those things. But it had taken control of her — control of everything she thought about herself.

She was good at some emotions: usually the dark and scary ones. The anger, the dread. In those emotions, she had control. At least to some degree. She could control how she felt it and what she did with it.

Love was different.

Maybe it was due to the fact that it involved another party. Someone else who held the reins on how she could potentially feel. It was terrifying to relinquish the control she held onto with an iron-clad grip.

He laid her down on the cushy white duvet. Gently, carefully. A stark contrast to the first night they had tumbled into bed together.

He could break her heart in a second. It was hard to imagine that he ever would, but everyone says that when they're in love. And some people who say those exact words unknowingly wake up to that exact scenario.

Her head fell back as he climbed over her, his lips attaching immediately to her neck.

Love was a sacrifice.

In some ways, it was a sacrifice of trust. Not in the other person, but in the trust that their heart would be safe. It was a passing off of that trust, handing it to the other person like a delicate glass ornament and praying that they don't drop it and subsequently shatter it.

Love was giving up trust in herself to keep herself safe.

Her nails scraped the back of his neck, slipping past the collar of his open shirt to reach his shoulder blades. She needed more of him and she always would.

Love was a decision to be made. A choice to be made with odds that were invisible. To decide whether or not it was worth it. She could lose everything, they both could.

It was a sacrifice.

Not a sacrifice of choosing to watch his favorite movie instead of hers or eat his favorite food. No. It could never be that simple.

It was a sacrifice to potentially leave it all behind for him. To leap into the unknown together, unsure of what they would come out with or without.

Hell, it was a gamble.

Her name was thick and hot against her ear as he murmured it. She barely heard it, just as she barely heard the clinking metal of his belt buckle as it came undone.

Of all of the things she could lose, she feared losing herself the most. That was what made the notion of love so scary — it came without notice. Without asking. If she lost herself in the process, it would be the same. It would be without warning, no blinking signs to tell her that she was going to reach the point of no return.

To fall in love was to just simply fall.

Some people fell out of love. She understood that, but could never truly apply it to herself. Any relationship before Elliot, she had never really allowed herself to fall to begin with. And even in the darkest hour, if he left her in the rain, she couldn't fathom the idea of ever being able to not love him.

Love was change. A change more permanent than any tattoo could ever be. She could never un-love Elliot Stabler.

His palms were calloused and rough against the soft skin of her thighs, the curve of her ass. His hands explored, ultimately deciding to pull her body up closer into his. Her leg wrapped around his waist, anchoring the two of them together.

She understood what he meant: the 'pull' he had previously described. She'd felt it the moment she had first laid eyes on him. Something deeper than attraction, deeper than lust. The burning feeling that if she were to take her eyes off of him, it would physically hurt. It was strange at first; feeling this invisible tether to an unattainable stranger.

As his cock slips inside of her, she spends a moment wondering. In every other universe out there; the ones that were different from this, did it feel the same. Was the tether still there? Would they meet in a supermarket? Or would they pass each other on the street and just know? In those other worlds, did she feel as at home as she did now, with him thrusting inside of her?

She hoped so. She hoped that somewhere out there, on some different plane of reality, that Olivia had met Elliot and lived happily ever after. In every way, shape, and form.

She had spent her entire life searching for the feeling of a home. Even before her mother had died, she never truly felt like home was what it was meant to be. The closest thing she'd had was her little apartment with Monique — but even those walls were missing something. Never could she have imagined she would find a home here, with and within him. Or better yet, anywhere.

He cried out her name like a praise sent to God. He wanted to love her; he does love her. It baffled her still. Not that she had ever viewed herself as unlovable, but she wasn't the easiest to love. Yet, he still chose every single day to love her.

The faith he had in her, it chilled her. It was as if no matter what she did or what adventure she would embark on, he believed with the entirety of himself that she was capable. Nobody had ever thought that about her — like she could move mountains if she put her mind to it. He would always be behind her, grinning proudly while he watched her conquer the world. Never a single doubt about it.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips, pulling him closer against her as if the friction just wasn't enough yet. She wanted to melt into him; to break the laws of physics and science to just become as close to him as possible.

She'd said it before, she would say it again. She would spend her life saying those three little words to him. This time was different though. It was the first time she had ever said it while fully allowing herself to understand what love really was. Without putting up barriers in her mind because the truth was just too damn scary.

She had come here to test herself. To see if the idea of true love could permeate through her mind without breaking her in half. She needed to know if she was capable of how heavy love could be.

She fucking loved Elliot Stabler.

And it left her lips repeatedly as she had reached the peak of her pleasure.

In the overtly large bathroom was a free-standing tub. In the water floated thick white suds of soap, rose petals, and whatever else Elliot had put in it. She laughed when he'd said he was going to draw them a 'Paris bath' — a term he had made up about 0.5 seconds before saying it.

Inside the water, he sat against the back of the bath. She laid against his chest, comfortably seated between his legs. Beside the bath and the glowing candles was a little silver cart, home to a bucket of champagne and fresh strawberries.

She lolled her head back against him, her hair up in a loose bun to avoid getting soaked. "This is the most cliche thing I could possibly associate with Paris, but I love it." she hummed.

His laugh rumbled through his chest as he brought the flute of champagne to his lips. "Well," he punctuated with a sip. "I hate to break it to you, but a lot of cliches that you see in the movies are real."

"I'm not complaining," she took a bite out of one of the strawberries. "In fact, I love these cliches so much I may never go home. Say Hi to New York for me."

He laughed again, setting his glass down so he could wrap his arms around her chest. "I told you... Paris in autumn."

"Well, I think bathing with champagne and strawberries isn't a seasonal thing for Paris." She scrunched her nose up and smiled as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. "I'm not complaining though,"

"I studied abroad here for a while when I was young. One of the best years of my life."

The water sloshed as she tried to turn and face him. Her expression was incredulous - as it usually was when he said things like that. "There is so much I don't know about you."

He shrugged, as if it were oh so casual. "What do you wanna know?"

She leaned back against him, mulling it over in her head. "I suppose I don't even know where to start."

"How about this," he slid further up the back of the tub to reposition himself. "You ask a question and I'll answer it. But I get to ask you a question and you have to answer it."

She couldn't stop the grin that took over her face. This could be dangerous territory, she thought. But there wasn't much bad stuff left in her past that he didn't already know about. "Sure, okay." she nodded gently. "Was it your choice to study abroad?"

"Wow," he huffed. "That's a bit of a loaded question. I guess the answer is both yes and no. I was about 17 years old and I didn't have the choice to leave, only the choice of where to go. I chose Paris."

She was glad he couldn't see the way her brows knit together in confusion at that. There was something beneath his words – resentment maybe?

"My turn—" he cut off her train of thought. "Hmm... how old were you when you lost your virginity?"

Her hand splashed against the water as she gave him a baffled laugh. "God, you're such a boy! Right to that question, huh?" She could feel him shrug his shoulders as a small chuckle vibrated from his chest. "Fine. I was 16. It was a guy I had been dating on and off most of my teen years — Brian Cassidy. We broke up for good when I was 24. And before your childish ass begins to wonder, yes you are much better than him."

He belted out another laugh at the last part of her sentence. "Fair enough. Your turn."

There was one question she had always been kinda curious about. "What was your childhood like? Y'know, your parents and everything?"

She felt his body pause and grow still for a passing moment before a deep breath released his muscles. "Uh — I guess it was normal to me given the people I was surrounded by. Overbearing parents and crippling expectations. Not normal by anyone else's standards I guess. I have two sisters, Sarah and Laura. I'm the middle child. My mom spent most of her time in philanthropy and my dad was a Wall Streeter and a chairman on the Exxon board. So, y'know, a hundred au pairs and a lot of secrets. They live in the Hamptons now."

Olivia had gone stiff halfway through his answer — realizing that it sounded more depressing than she had expected. Not that she had expected anything else, just not quite as bleak as the tone of his voice made it sound.

"What about you? Can you tell me more about your mom?"

The water felt cold now, and she didn't regret this game but it wasn't as enjoyable as she had hoped. "I think I already told you some, right? Professor at Columbia, drank herself to death when I was 12, all that?" she asked, feeling him nod from behind her. "Um, it's kinda hard to remember to be honest. She was... complicated." Olivia sighed. "Very controlling for a person who had no control at all. When she was sober she couldn't look me in the eyes, when she was drinking she couldn't look at herself. But I do think she loved me, in her own weird way. Just not the way I needed her to."

Elliot related to that a lot more than he wanted to. His mother did love him, he knew that. But there had always been times where he wondered if she was ever meant to be a mother.

"You said it wasn't your choice to study abroad, why? Why'd you have to leave?" Olivia asked, changing the subject.

"I made an ass of myself," he answered quickly. "I rebelled pretty heavily in my teens. But in the world I grew up in, that was only acceptable as long as nobody worth anything knew about it. I was drinking a lot, doing drugs, getting arrested. Things that teens do when they need attention from their parents even if it's the wrong kind of attention. Except, one of my arrests made it into the paper — they weren't supposed to print my name because I was technically a minor but they did anyway. My dad was furious that I had made a fool out of him and myself. That night, I was on a plane to Paris before I could do any more besmirching of the family name."

"God, that's awful," she whispered, taking a hold of his hand that was under water.

"It could've been a lot worse. I needed to get away from the crowd I was in. I cleaned up my act, started focusing on my future. For a while at least," he laughed. "Next question. If you could've chosen any other university, would you still have chosen Columbia?"

She took a moment to think it through. "I'm not sure." she shook her head. "I liked Columbia, it's a great school. I got my scholarship and it was basically a free ride. Part of me was afraid that by going there, I would be making the wrong decision and that I should've run as far away from that place as possible. On the other hand, most of the professors knew my mom, and they knew her better than I ever did. In some way, hearing the stories of the literary professor God that was Serena Benson helped repair the image of her in my mind. It let me feel closer to the version of her that I deserved all along."

"That's understandable," he replied, waiting for his question.

She debated on asking, but the question itched in her mind for a long time. "Why were you married three times?"

She felt his small chuckle at the invasive question. "It's not as bad as it sounds... well, not completely as bad as it sounds." Elliot took a deep breath. "My first wife, Jo, I married her when I was 19. She was a year older than me and also my sister's best friend. Our marriage was more of a joke than anything. I don't think either of us actually planned on spending the rest of our lives together, but it pissed my sister off beyond measure so that was an added bonus. If anything, she and I were more friends than lovers."

"And Kathy? She's the second one, right?"

"Right," he sighed again. "Kathy was a bit different. I took that relationship a lot more seriously. We loved each other but I don't think we were ever in love. Kathleen came along and I thought it would make us a 'real' family. We tried really hard to make it work but when two pieces of a puzzle just don't fit, the pieces tend to break. I was the one who broke. I felt like I had failed — like I didn't know how to love. I kinda went off the deep end."

"And #3?"

"Dani." he groaned, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Deep end collateral damage. We were screwing around for about 3 weeks and I was knee deep in my own unresolved, post-divorce grief. I thought a Vegas wedding would solve all of my problems but that was the booze talking. We were divorced 4 weeks after that."

Out of all of his exes, Olivia had always felt the most threatened by ex-wife #3 from what she had known about her. She had often spent time pushing her fears to the back of her head, but was afraid that she was just a repeat of Dani. Even she couldn't deny that it was part of the reason that her relationship with Elliot had always balanced on her having one foot out the door. She didn't want to turn into another one of his cautionary tales.

She knew any rational woman would've been more threatened by Kathy. Once upon a time he had built a life with her, had a child with her. He married her thinking that they would grow old together. But she was not a rational woman, and her relationship with Elliot had started off eerily similar to that of his and Dani's.

"What's your favorite childhood memory?" he asked, breaking her free from her thoughts.

She couldn't stop the smile on her face as one and only one memory came to mind. "It's dark but... the day I got out of Juvie. Monique was waiting for me in the parking lot and she was so happy to see me without having guards surrounding us. To be able to hug me until I couldn't breathe. We always spent time drawing together and when I was serving my sentence, she would bring me drawings and I would give some to her. She had saved up some cash and the first thing we did was go to a little craft store, buy a bunch of paper and pencils, and then we found a 24 hour diner where we sat in a booth and drew together and ate the best, most greasiest diner food you can imagine."

"Sounds like heaven," he mused.

"Oh, it was." Olivia giggled. "It made that whole year feel so small because I went from being empty to being so fulfilled within hours."

"One more question and we'll get out of this tub? My fingers are pruning." Elliot chuckled.

Olivia thought carefully, trying to come up with the best finishing question she would want the answer to. "Kathleen, was she planned? Like, did you want kids?"

"Yes," he answered without missing a beat. "I might not be the best father, and I have a lot of making up to do, but the day I held her tiny little body in my arms for the first time was a day that something changed in me. Like a switch had been flipped, and I felt more love than I ever thought humanly possible."

The following morning, Olivia had begun to pack up her things when Elliot had snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She sighed contently, taking a deep inhale as she allowed herself to appreciate the scent of him. "You know, if it were up to me, I'd leave all of my responsibilities behind and just live here full time."

"Sounds good to me," he replied, offering a faint laugh. "It isn't over yet though."

"We leave for the airport in less than five hours, what else is there to do?"

He looked down to see that she was still in her Paris attire, rather than her 7-hour-plane-ride-home-chic sweatpants. "Come with me," he said, starting to pull her away.

"El!" she protested, "We can't jus— gah!" she shrieked as he picked her up at her calves, throwing her over his shoulder.

"I have a surprise planned!" he said with excitement, marching down the hallway with her body hanging off of him.

Her shrieks turned into laughter "Elliot, what the hell? Put me down!"

"No!" he argued back, his giddiness mirroring that of a ten year old's. "You'll just go back and start packing again! That's boring, I just need two hours of your time."

They made it down the staircase in one piece and she wondered why he hadn't just used the elevator. Employees and guests in the lobby gave them strange stares, but Elliot didn't bother with it. Outside of the main entrance, she could see Skylar waiting by the rental car.

He finally set her back on her feet and she feigned irritation as she pushed her hair back into place. "Two hours or we're gonna miss our flight," she said, reprimanding him with a pointed finger in his chest.

"I own the jet, Olivia. We could take off in twelve hours if I told them to." he rolled his eyes but chuckled as he slid into the back of the car with her.

"Where are we going anyway?" she asked, opening the compact mirror she had kept in her purse — the purse she had snagged right before he'd so rudely carried her out. She double checked her makeup, making sure nothing was too smudged to show in public.

"Well it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, now would it?"

She rolled her eyes as she smiled at him. "You are a menace, Stabler."

"I know," he winked.

It wasn't a long drive to their destination — which she still didn't quite understand. She could see the Eiffel Tower still, just as she could from the terrace in their suite. Skylar parked the car parallel to the long strip of lawn in front of the monument.

Olivia slowly stepped out of the car, eyeing around suspiciously at what seemed to be some sort of equipment setup in the center of the lawn. Over at the setup, she spotted a man with a camera around his neck waving them forward. "El, what is this?"

He walked up behind her, placing his palm gently on her back as they walked towards the waving man. "This is... an apology of sorts."

She stopped, turning on her heels to look at him. "Apology for what?"

Regret quickly replaced his excitement as he softly braced her upper arms. "Look, Santorini was a disaster. I'll be honest, the flash of a camera freaked me out for at least two months after. But I don't want that experience to be so bad that we're always afraid. So, we're gonna take pictures. You, me, the eiffel tower, and pictures that you and I will be able to keep forever and cherish. Ones that we actually consent to taking. There's nothing wrong with replacing a bad memory with a good one."

She couldn't fight the smile that took over her lips. "So, who's the starving artist over there?" Her head bobbed in the direction of the center of the lawn. She had taken stock of the guy fairly quickly and even from a distance she could see the scruffy salt and pepper beard paired with a camera and some sort of ratty cargo vest.

Elliot resumed their trek towards the center of the lawn, coaxing her to follow him. "He's an old friend. We lodged together when I was staying abroad here, he stayed with me when he studied back in the states. He left behind his own glitz and glamor to focus on his photography passion. I trust him."

"Elliot!" the man's voice called out as soon as they got closer. "So wonderful to see you!"

Olivia could hear the man's French accent mixing with the American one he must've picked up over time.

"Louis!" Elliot greeted him as soon as they were within a few feet of each other. He brought the man in for what Olivia recognized to be a bro-hug before stepping back and smiling at her. "It's good to see you, man."

"This must be the beautiful Olivia," Louis marveled at her, taking her hand and kissing the top of it. "If I had known she was so pretty, I would've charged you extra," he joked, nudging Elliot in the shoulder. The further he spoke, the more she could hear the heaviness of French in his voice.

Olivia blushed inwardly, suddenly feeling incredibly shy as she began to wonder if this was a good idea.

"You already take me to the cleaners with every bill you send me, Louis. We're past charging extra." Elliot cracked, setting his phone onto a speaker that was amongst the equipment setup. He put on a song with a fast beat and runway feel; something she would expect to hear during fashion week. She couldn't help but smile as he circled back over to her, taking ahold of her hand and spinning her so that her dress flowed. "I know I already said it, but Paris becomes you."

Olivia just laughed, trying to calm herself from the nervousness that came with the flash of the camera. Louis jumped around, twisting and turning the camera, adjusting the lighting, playing with the settings on the fan that blew her hair back. He truly looked like a kid in a candy shop.

Elliot dipped her by surprise, leaning over her as the camera snapped the photograph. After a while, it was like the white hot flashes were fading into the background. She was here, in Paris, dancing in front of the Eiffel tower with the love of her life.

"I couldn't bring myself to leave this trip behind without some proof of the memory," he said into her ear, another bright flash capturing the moment her eyes closed and she felt the warmth of his breath on her skin. Another flash captured when she smiled at his words.

"For now, the pictures will be for just us," she replied, nodding to his statement.

His grip went to her hips, abruptly squeezing them quick enough that it would startle her into a fit of laughter. Her nose scrunched up and the authentic and unadulterated smile that he loved so much came out, and a flash to capture it.

For once, they'd have candid photos that weren't taken by a threatening hand. Not for blackmail or for leverage, just love.

When their laughter died down, her hands grabbed his wrists as he cradled her face. His lips were pressed to her forehead with the tower perfectly placed behind the two of them. "I love you so much," she whispered to him, just loud enough for only him to hear.

By the time they had wrapped up, Olivia was sure that Louis had captured enough photos to fill a museum. And knowing Elliot, he just might. She had seen a preview of a few of the photos, some of which would eventually become black and white with low exposure, others to be in competition for a Pulitzer if they really tried. She hadn't really seen herself look so happy. It was the first time in a while that she was happy without an addendum attached to it. So many 'buts' and finally, she was just happy. Nothing to follow it by.

They were back at the hotel, finally doing what they were supposed to be doing an hour earlier - packing. Elliot had called ahead and let his flight crew know that they may be running behind. Of course, he showed no real remorse for it. He still had that massive print of her somewhere that he had bought from Monique's art show. It was clear to Olivia that he treasured photos above a lot of things.

"Thank you for doing that with me," he smiled at her, standing beside her as he tucked away one of his shirts into his suitcase. "You have no idea how much it meant to me to be able to capture everything."

She reached her hand out, placing it on top of his for a brief moment, acknowledging him with love in her eyes. "Well, at least you can frame one and put it on your desk at home rather than at the office."

He laughed and nodded. "How about a really big one over my fireplace?"

She rolled her eyes at that, still managing to laugh despite the childishness in his tone.

"Alright, I'm gonna go grab Skylar and a bellboy to get our bags out to the car, I'll be right back." Elliot leaned over and kissed her on the cheek before departing. She stood in silence, smiling to herself as she reflected on the trip. It had been a dream. It certainly felt dreamy. For the first time ever, she could look over at him and just smile — even if the sun was still in the sky and people were surrounding them. That wasn't a luxury she had back home. That was one perk of being city-famous — where every New Yorker knew his face but the rest of the world only knew his name.

Her phone chirped with a notification. She zipped up her suitcase and sat down on the side of the bed, unlocking the screen to find a bright green bubble of text next to a private number.

RESTRICTED:

Taking a trip down memory lane, are we?

The notification sound pinged off again.

RESTRICTED:

I have fond memories of this one in particular.

Olivia felt bile rise in her throat as her heart sank to her stomach.

*ping*

Before she could even look at the third message, she heard the keycard swipe at the door and the sound of Elliot talking with Skylar. As soon as he stepped into the bedroom area, he saw Olivia who was now back on her feet, staring at her phone as pale as a ghost.

"You okay, Liv?" Elliot asked, stopping in his tracks to inspect the sight in front of him.

It took everything in her not to throw up right then and there. "Yeah!" she replied breathlessly. "Just uh — Monique texted. There's an emergency back at my apartment. Something about the water pipes. I c-can't get a straight answer out of her about what's actually wrong. I think a pipe burst." Olivia laughed nervously.

Elliot continued to eye her cautiously, finally nodding slowly though still not entirely sure if he believed her. Skylar and the bellboy loaded up the tall golden cart full of their bags. As Elliot helped them load up the remainder of the bags, Olivia looked down at the third text.

A bubble popped up with an image inside of it. She clicked on it to see it in full size and it was as if her heart had fallen even lower.

It was a still shot from the security tapes in Santorini. A very compromising photograph of her and Elliot in the pool that could easily destroy her career, her dignity, and just about any chance of getting anywhere in life.

She was fucking screwed.