Elliot Stabler's Villa

9:35 A.M.

1/18

When she had woken, she was acutely aware that she was not alone. A solidifying warmth radiated from beside her, beneath her fingertips and against her cheek. She felt a gentle hand lying on her back as her head rested between his head and shoulder. Her hand rose and fell on his chest with each deep breath he took.

Nothing but the sound of the waves in the distance paired with their mutual breathing filled the room. The TV was silenced, no hyper kids running about. Nothing that even remotely related to her daily life. Still in a sleepy fog, she nestled closer against him, feeling the heavy weight of tiredness in her eyelids.

She didn't want to open her eyes and face the facts that her subconscious was screaming at her. Instead, she pushed it away as if it were the snooze button on her daily alarm. She didn't want to know who's arms she was in or where she was, she wanted the warmth and nothing else.

Despite the fact that the peace and quiet was all she ever dreamed of, it was becoming all too realistic in her mind. Pushing away the truth was growing more difficult and the awkwardness began to replace the bliss. She listened closely to the sounds coming from his chest, trying to decipher whether or not he was awake or still sleeping.

The slow and steady deep breaths tipped her off to the fact that he was still asleep and unaware of their currently tangled state. She wasn't sure if she was more afraid of what she felt or more afraid of what he would feel as soon as he was awake. For now, it was a dead tie.

Taking one more moment to soak up the euphoric comfort she felt in his arms, she carefully unravelled herself from his grip. She sat up on the edge of the bed, trying to avoid the sound of squeaking springs.

Her head turned around to take a closer look at him. He looked peaceful for the first time since she had arrived. No tremors or twitches, his skin wasn't nearly as pale as it was the day previous. For the first time in ten years, she was finally able to catch a glimpse of who Elliot really was now, beneath the torturous hold that the drugs had, beneath the gloomy state of what life felt like. He had aged beautifully.

When she had arrived, he was 36 hours into detoxing. Coming up on 84 hours, the comfort of seeing him beginning to return to his old self covered the awkwardness of how it felt to wake up in his arms. She fought off the urge to brush her fingertips against his temple, knowing it would wake him up. Instead, she simply gazed.

A painful smile graced her face when she realized that his peace would be disrupted. If she found him to be well enough today, she knew she had to begin to explain the things she had held back. He deserved to know the truth and all of it, including the ugly parts.

She slipped away from the couch, leaving him to continue resting. She quietly rifled through her suitcase and grabbed a fresh pair of clothes before retreating to the bathroom. The water slowly shifted from frigid to warm, embracing her as she stepped under the stream.

There was a guilt that came with washing off his fingerprints from her skin; a sadness that she hadn't expected in the least. Any remnants of his touch that lit her nerves aflame were swirling down the drain. She had washed a lot of fingerprints from off her body in her life, but rarely was it paired with a longing for them to return.

Her brown locks of hair became drenched as she leaned her head back under the water, feeling the heavy weight of the brunette strands as they soaked. Oh how blissful life could be in the quietness on the shore. She felt a wall go up in her mind as she forced herself to remember that none of this was permanent. Soon, New York would be reacquainted with her face, her badge would glisten in the headlights of the busy streets, and Italy would be in the rearview mirror.

Though, she was less than repulsed at the idea that in some world where their restraint didn't exist, this could be a daily occurrence. Waking up in the safest arms in the safest place. An unwavering happiness that would make her heart palpate so hard she was sure it would fly out from within her ribcage. No, it wasn't a horrible idea.

Something in the way the water rocked had dissolved the many boundaries and barriers she had put up between herself and her partner. Time could be a culprit as well, knowing that in ten long years, the human mind could change its thoughts and behavior. Long ago, a thought like that would strike into her head and she would force it to disappear faster than it could settle.

It didn't feel sinful. His ring finger was bare and the line between them dividing them from being nothing more than partners was gone. Now, it was left up to willpower. She had always prided herself in being strong with willpower, but whenever Elliot was involved, said willpower seemed to dissipate.

Right now, a prayer was all that held them apart. She had learned long ago to stop denying that there was always something more than just a work relationship between the surface. When he was gone and the coast was clear, when nothing but memories were left, she had become too exhausted to deny it. It was easier to accept it when he wasn't a constant in her presence.

Her willpower was washing down the drain. Would it honestly be such a bad thing? She had accidentally stepped into the reality of what it would be like to wake up beside him. An occurrence that had never happened until last night. The solace it brought her was unparalleled, so why did it need to be so frowned upon?

Her self from ten years ago would've shuttered at the fact that she was allowing these thoughts to intrude. Years and years battling them off with the force of a soldier, all for what? For the seagulls cries and the rocky waves?

For so damn long she had grappled with feeling as if she didn't deserve the self care and self love she had learned to give herself. Therapist after therapist had tried to convince her that it was okay to appreciate herself, yet she always seemed to fold. Ed's decision to retire scared her. The idea of settling with anyone scared her. She could say it until she was blue in the face that she could show herself love and appreciation, but when it came down to the moment that called for it, she allowed it to collapse.

This time, it felt foreign but not unwelcome. Was this the self love that they had all spoken about? Allowing herself the idea that time spent with him didn't need to be constricted anymore? That feelings would be and should be felt?

As the water washed over her face, she wondered if the massive weight on her chest would disappear if she told Elliot what had happened. If she aired her grievances and told him about the nights where she stared at the phone, waiting for him to call. God, she had still waited long after her bruises had healed. Every night, every chime of her ringtone, she had waited.

It never came. Keeping that fact from him felt like she was lugging bricks around in her heart. There was no animosity towards him now that she knew why he hadn't called. In fact, the weight seemed lighter now that she knew that he was simply unaware that anything had happened to her, and therefore would've never known to call. It was never intentional on his part to ignore her in her time of need.

She was healing, so was he. If only she could carry this on forever instead of potentially letting it fall like a house of cards. Some part of her selfishly wished she had told him the truth while he was still in a haze. At least then it could settle on his consciousness while his mind remained invaded by other more painful things. She knew that was wrong and distasteful. If she had to break him into the truth that his operation was done, it was only fair that he be able to process it.

If he would be forced back to New York, he deserved the decency of a fresh start. Flat out truth, no line drawn in the sand between them, just purity. Their old life together, the 9-5, it was in the past. It was a chapter closed, and she knew it wasn't a story she could reopen with how it was left. That part of them... it died on the floor with Jenna Fox. But they had the now and the present, and they could make what they wanted with it.

She just had to clear the debris first.

She turned the shower taps off and quickly wrung out her hair before stepping out. She had hoped that the sadness and fear had washed away with the water, leaving her with nothing but the protective armor she had worked so hard to form. Today could be a day of fear or a day of revitalization, it was up to her.

The white towel wiped away the fog on the mirror, revealing her tired but well-rested reflection. She looked as ready as she could be. A stark contrast to what had once been staring back at her in the mirror, the person she used to be who she was about to explain to the man outside the door. Her wounds were healed and left nothing but thin white lines and slightly jagged edges on her skin. The both of them, they had changed beyond measure in ten years' time.

She ran her comb through her hair, deciding to let the salt-water air to dry it naturally. She had to admit, despite the state she had arrived in, there was a deep appreciation for her new surroundings. It was a beautiful town that seemed to be home to the definition of serenity. Those who walked its paths without knowledge of the crimes happening behind closed doors were the lucky ones.

When she stepped out from the bathroom in her fresh clothes, she overheard Elliot's tired but upbeat voice emitting from the living room. She walked over to the archway in the hall, leaning against it as she watched him speak into the phone.

"Hey buddy, it's Dad. I'm sorry I missed your call yesterday. I just got your voicemail. Junior varsity, that's amazing! I'm so proud, I knew you could do it. Make sure your mom records your practices and games so I can watch, alright? Hopefully, we can FaceTime during one of your matches so I can see your defense action. Also, make sure you let me know how that science project goes, okay? Just do your best and I'm sure you'll get a great grade. I love you, Eli. I'll talk to you soon."

Olivia smiled as she watched the pride grow on Elliot's face. He looked as if the kiss of life had been breathed back into him, refreshed as he came out of the precipice of withdrawal. His lips were finally back to the color she remembered them as, and not just a flesh tone that matched the rest of him.

Elliot looked up and spotted Olivia standing in the doorway with her arms over her chest and a smirk on her face. "Hey," he whispered. "I woke up and you were gone."

"I just needed a quick shower" she said, walking away from the wall and slowly towards him. "How are you feeling? You sleep well?"

"Like a rock," he chuckled softly, stretching his arms out. "I finally feel like my body isn't being squeezed through a pneumatic tube."

She fought off the tears that wanted desperately to fill her eyes. Ten years since she had seen him. Whoever that was the previous few days, it wasn't Elliot. The man in front of her right now was the man she had spent years waiting to run into. She watched him walk over to the blinds and open them, letting the sunlight flow into the room for the first time since she arrived. "How about breakfast?"

"It feels nice to admit that I think I can finally hold some cereal down. Feels like it's been ages." he stretched again in the sunlight, his hoodie raising just enough to expose the lower half of his stomach. Something in the sight of him reminded her that the fingerprints he left on her skin weren't gone. They would forever be ingrained onto her as long as she could see him for who he was now, without any barriers holding him back.

She grinned as she walked into the kitchen, readying a pot of coffee for the both of them. She could feel the fear growing somewhere deep, the guilt seeping in that she would need to break away his current happiness with a harsh reality. He didn't deserve it, and she knew that, but she also knew he would be all the more hurt if he found out later rather than sooner.

He pulled out a barstool where the kitchen island turned into the dining room, sitting up at the counter while she poured the cereal into two bowls. "Hey, I meant to ask uh — tell me more about Noah? It's a little mind blowing that you've got a kid." he chuckled.

Her head ducked down as a smile graced her lips. "It's funny, he kinda reminds me of Kathleen. Marches to the beat of his own drum, would rather do things that make him happy instead of doing what others think is normal."

He grinned "Sounds like my girl."

"He's a dancer," she said, looking up for a split second from the task in front of her. "He was into baseball for a while but it wasn't really his thing. He seems a lot happier in dance classes. He has his moments but all in all, he's a good kid." She slid the bowl of cereal over to him before taking the other barstool for herself.

"Has it been hard?" he asked, digging the spoon into the bowl. "Being a cop and a parent? I remember when Eli came along and balancing the job and kids was like juggling bowling pins that were on fire."

"It's not easy, that's for damn sure." she huffed. "On some level though, it helps. He keeps my head above water. I wish he didn't have to, it's not my kid's responsibility to do that, but he does. It's nice to come home to someone who actually wants to see me rather than criminals who would obviously put me on their list of the last people they ever wanna see."

"That was always one of the best feelings." he smiled, lifting his head to stare off. "You come home from a day where everything is so damn heavy and then there's a pair of wide eyes staring at you as if everything in life is so simple."

She saw the smile on his face and for the first time, she understood the relief in his tone. All of the years of him talking about having kids, she thought she knew. But this was the first time she could feel the actual connection. Just one more thing that they had on the same level.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, swiping away until her lock screen was just the picture of them. "This is Noah." she said, holding out the phone.

He gently took the phone from her in amazement. "God, Liv." he laughed softly. "He's perfect. Look at those curls!" She thought for a moment that he might tear up at the sight of her and her son. The memories of trying to come about motherhood during their partnership weren't lost on her. In fact, he always seemed to be the one who had faith that she could do it. "You both look so happy," he whispered.

"He knows who you are, you know." she smiled at him. "He's seen pictures, he's asked about you. Sometimes I tell him about the things we've done together. He always seems so fascinated with you."

"I guess it runs in the family, huh." he said without missing a beat.

She elbowed him, rolling her eyes with a laugh. "Oh, shut up. I guess you are feeling better, your arrogance is back."

"Liv, I — I really should thank you. You're always the one who gets me through the worst of things, even when I don't deserve it. If you hadn't been here yesterday, I don't know what would've happened." he scrubbed his palms against his face. "You've always been the best partner I could ask for, and I'm really grateful for that."

It was the happiness that twinkled beneath his gratitude; that was what hurt the most for her to see. The fact that he had no idea of what had happened to her. That was what made it all feel like a lie for her. He was paving new ground in their relationship without knowing what skeletons were in the closet. She had to be the one to tell the truth and the truth didn't coexist with that happiness.

Guilt felt like both fire and ice in her chest. A horrible sandbag on her chest that took her breath away.

"Liv?" he interrupted her lost thoughts. "What's wrong?"

"You would be so angry with me if I kept a secret like this from you any longer." she whispered, her voice low and nearly inaudible. Her eyes had zoned out, staring off into the distance because looking at him any longer would be excruciating.

They both felt it, the shift in the air. How the room had gone from lightness to darkness in a matter of moments. Storm clouds inevitably rolling in because neither of them were allowed to be happy, not ever. She couldn't keep it to herself any longer.

"I have to tell you something, Elliot." she tried to swallow away the lump in her throat but it refused to budge. She had gotten used to that feeling by now. "May 23, 2013, eight days after you left for Quantico, something horrible happened. His name was Lewis. William Lewis."

His spoon dropped from his hands and splashed against the milk in the bowl. A high pitched ring filled his ears as she told the story that she had rehearsed in her head a million times. There were a lot of places she imagined she would finally tell him, but at a kitchen island in Italy with broken walls that housed stashed drugs was not ever on that list. It seemed fitting; it was always what she least expected with him.

She recalled the sounds of the ringing phone and the sound of the stovetop handles clicking as they were lit up by a low blue flame. The twinkle in his eyes was disappearing as she explained further, going out like a dying star. She had watched that light begin, it was only fitting that she saw it die as well.

Her words were running through his veins like a volcanic eruption, she could see it as clear as day. A deep and burning anger that Mount Saint Helens or Vesuvius could never compare to. His skin had gone a deep shade of red, something like scarlet or crimson, she wasn't sure.

At first, as her story continued, she noted the twitch in his lip. The occasional flicker of his eyebrow lifting. She explained that she could still taste the duct tape on her lips sometimes and how the smell of vodka makes her stomach turn. On a bad day, she could still feel the warm trickle of blood running from her hairline and dripping down the tip of her nose.

His fists had clenched next, and she could have sworn the tightness would pulverize his knuckles, but she kept going. She had no choice then and she didn't have a choice when the story wasn't just a story, when it was real and live. To keep going had always been her main goal.

Tears filled his eyes and it was less than surprising. Every scenario of her explaining those horrible days had included the tears. Even a man as strong as Elliot wouldn't be able to hold them back. She wanted to reach up and wipe them away before they would crest but she knew they needed to fall.

He flinched just as she had when she recalled hearing the gunshots and the rookie cop that had fallen to the ground. Her voice remained low and stable, but on the inside, she was crumbling just as much as he was on the outside. The beach house and the way the restraints dug into her skin, he's shaking.

His body shook and his eyes cried harder than he did as the drugs pried themselves out of his system. The tears that fell from his eyes were burning hot and she knew the hopelessness he felt, she knew it all too well.

Everything inside of her told her to shut up and stop talking about it but she wasn't done and that was the ugly part of the truth, sometimes it was grueling agony but it needed to be said.

It was horrible to relive it but even worse to see him live it for the first time. She could feel the way his skin was crawling as the images swirled in his mind. That's just how it worked. His mind would build a beach house from scratch and place an image of her inside it, theorizing where the blood on her face was and where the bruises on her body would be.

Did he know that the walls were wooden but the curtains made the sunlight turn them pink? Did he know that the iron bar that was in her hands was rusty but painted white? He probably had no idea that her shirt was black that day and that the tarp in the car was blue. This was the worst part about explanation, it meant creating a whole new Olivia with a whole new backdrop and all new footsteps.

She realized for the first time that her story had gone full circle. It started with her own blood seeping down her skin and by the very end, it was the disgusting warmth of his own, staining her face crimson for the very last time. She explained the left hand on the gun and how chilling his voice was as he told her that nobody would believe that the bullet was of his own volition.

The redness in Elliot's face had soon turned white when she explained the sickening game of russian roulette, how every time the hammer of the gun pushed back, she feared it would be the last sound she ever heard. Elliot was numb, she could see it. She could feel it. Goddamnit, she had forgotten what life was like with anything but the numbness.

She expected his fists to hit down and crush the granite countertops, she expected him to tear every wall down with a wrath known by nobody. He didn't move. He shook, his body trembled as the images were born, but he didn't move.

She had done it, she scooped out his soul with nothing but the words of what she experienced in all five senses. Just words could break him down but the words weren't just words, they were the history book that made her who she was. He would always bear involvement in several of the pages that wrote her into who she was, and that's where his own guilt came in. How he and this man whose face he'd never seen could exist in the same book while he had done nothing.

Her intent wasn't to break him. It wasn't to crush his spirit or inflict guilt in his already hurting soul. But he was a man who always wanted to read every page of her and sometimes the pages that weren't redacted were the hardest to read. She didn't want pain, she just wanted honesty.

When her story ended, a new Stabler began. A man with an anger that would forever run deep inside of him, a vengeance for a man who would never see the face of the partner she spoke so highly of. She hoped she had remembered to mention that and how his little gold medallion had stayed with her, and in some sense, he had stayed with her during that time. Something she had hoped would be a good luck charm soldered to the bottom of the gun that could've ended that man's life.

No, he didn't let out a scream that would tear any surrounding ears to shreds. He didn't break down the house brick by brick. He sat there, he sat and he cried for her. He cried for a version of Olivia that had long since died. No fists in drywall or through the glass panes, he grieved instead.

That was the testament of the time that had passed between the two of them, like a road separating two old friends. He didn't lash out. His actions were not his spoken word as they used to be, his anger didn't rule him. Not anymore. Ten long years and so much had changed, he didn't curse the world and demand it be torn down.

He stood up slowly from the seat he had taken and hugged her. Hands that once knew violence had instead spoken out of love, wrapping her up and holding her close. He cried on her shoulder for the fact that she hadn't been able to cry on his shoulder. His palms laid against her spine with his head in her shoulder and a litany of unnecessary apologies for not being in the right place at the right time.

She hugged him back and forgave him for all of the years she spent wondering why her phone didn't ring with his number following those horrible events. She forgave him for things he wasn't guilty of, but rather felt guilty of. Their partnership vows broken, for better or worse. The worse had come and gone and though he was on the other side of the world, she forgave him.

Her arms held him just as tightly as he held her. Her shoulder absorbed the sobs and she was the one comforting him. She was still alive, still healing, still breathing.

The remainder of the weight was off of her chest and she only hoped that it wasn't on him.

Elliot Stabler's Villa

12:52 P.M.

1/18

He stood on the back porch of his tiny apartment, watching the waves crash against the rocks. The silence was unnerving for Olivia but she knew he was processing the depth of what she had told him. She watched through the window as he simply stood and allowed the breeze to blow against him.

She was afraid to disrupt him in his deep thoughts. Instead, she allowed herself to feel the soft wind that flowed into the villa through the open patio door. Every few seconds he would drop his head and look back up, as if he wanted to take in the view all over again.

Everything in his head was a blur and she knew it. She knew that he was one of the only people to ever hear her story from start to finish in a few minute span. Most people who knew what had happened, they knew it over a period of time. Her colleagues, her therapist, any boyfriend or even just friend. They watched the news, they watched it live in real time. Then there was Elliot, the man who felt emotions deeper than most. The wounds on her body that had long since healed were fresh to his eyes now.

She couldn't sit and watch him run the questions through his head anymore, it was agonizing. She pushed herself towards the open patio door, slowly approaching him from behind. When she reached the stone railing, she noted the glow in his side profile. Even after being devastated by so much so fast, he was still ethereal to her.

"I remember I was heading out to Spain for my first undercover assignment," he started, not bothering to take his icy eyes off of the shoreline. "Huang had called me, he was my liaison between the feds and the embassy. I didn't think much of that call at first, I thought he was just calling with the same reason everyone was."

Her palms ran over the mossy stone, letting the grains dig into her skin. "What did he say?"

"He asked about you." he said, turning to stare at her. The sunlight was still in his eyes, highlighting them to a shade of blue that she hadn't ever seen before. "He asked if I had spoken to you." he paused, licking his lips as he shook his head softly. "I wasn't sure why he called, it had been two years since I left SVU, it just seemed random."

"Did you ever figure out why he mentioned me?" her brown locks of hair reflected an auburn red as the sun blazed against them, strands pushed in her eyes by the force of the breeze.

He stopped breathing, she could feel it. His eyes flashed down and back to hers and suddenly she wondered if they had lost their ability to communicate without words. "I think I just did." he whispered with a soft nod. Soft enough that she almost didn't see it. Before she could even think twice, his eyes were back to facing the sea. "He called me, April 2nd, 2014."

Her heart fell through her stomach and the taste in her mouth suddenly resembled that of bile. "Oh," she choked out, feeling sicker by the second.

"I had gotten to Spain a few days earlier. With pursed lips and squinted eyes, he stared directly into the sunlight. "I was so preoccupied that I didn't even stop to think about why he called. I've been preoccupied since then, I think. That cartel is what led me here."

She frowned in confusion. "How do you mean?"

"They wanted me to get in on a gun smuggling ring. It took some time infiltrating it but I got under. I was the one who figured out that it wasn't just nationwide in Spain, it was international. Their gun ring connected to the drug cartel here." he leaned forward against the stone railing, resting on his elbows. "The top lieutenants in that ring, they liked me. Most people on the top levels had no clue that the ring went any deeper than guns, I was one of few. So, the guys in Spain thought I would be valuable to their friends here in Italy."

"That's why you left Spain," she breathed, putting the pieces together in her head.

"It wasn't a choice. The embassy saw a way into one of the most protected drug cartels in the world. They tried and tried again to infiltrate directly from the surface to Italy and failed. They didn't know that Spain had connections. So when Spain's lieutenants wanted me in Puglia, the embassy jumped at the opportunity." he sighed.

"You didn't want to come here." she bowed her head, trying to level herself away from the dizziness that swirled in her head.

"God, no." he chuckled dryly. "You know how it is though. You get a lead and suddenly it's the only way in. An unfamiliar face would've snapped the entire system. So I chased it." he turned to look at her once more. "I chased and I chased until I was as under as it got. This whole operation is on my shoulders, Liv. If I fail... nobody will ever get this far again."

"Elliot," she reached her hand out, resting it on his bicep. "Sometimes too much pressure is just that... it's too much. You are one man taking on the world. They can't expect you to be superman."

"I thought I wanted to be here... or at least something like it. I was content in Spain, I knew it would be temporary. I knew I could have the time I needed to work out whatever issues I had without having it rain a shitstorm over my family. Then, when they pushed, I felt the pull. By the time they got me out here, it was too late."

"So, you clung to it because it was all you have left." she shook her head, letting a deep breath go from far within her chest.

"I couldn't let the handlers see me in the state I was in when you got here, Liv. They'd yank me. Then what would all this be for? Years of my life spent far away from everything that matters to me just for it to go to hell?" he gave her an incredulous look, shaking his head at the mere idea of being pulled out. "I'm the last cop in this circle, if I don't do this, nobody will."

"El," she whispered, fighting back tears. "You're carrying mountains that you were only meant to move. All of this, it isn't on you." She felt the overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around his waist and pull him closer, and fighting that urge felt like fighting a bull. That line in the sand still existed for him even if it was fading for her.

"What am I supposed to tell Eli?" he asked, huffing as he rolled his eyes. "Sorry I missed your entire life, kid? I'm here to get this shit done and do it the right way. At least then it'll be worth something."

"What makes you so certain that it isn't worth anything right now?" she asked. "Elliot, you gathered more intel than any other agent. You broke barriers that were unbreakable. Right now, you're still chasing. You won't be happy until every drug smuggler, gun peddler, and terrorist is behind bars and you and I both know it won't happen like that. So why torture yourself? What, do you think they're gonna shun you like you've returned empty handed?"

"I don't wanna be seen as weak!" he blurted out, not intentionally meaning to yell the words at her. His mouth opened and closed as he fought to find the right words. "I've made it this far. What kind of man would I be if I said 'fuck it' and extracted?"

"A man, Elliot." she sighed, gently guiding his chin so he would look her in the eyes. "A man. That's all you are, that's all you can be, and that's all they're asking of you. Those expectations, they are in your head. The voices telling you that what you've done isn't good enough, they aren't real. You went above and beyond what anyone asked of you. At this point, you're performing miracles, but how many miracles do you have left in you?"

His eyes slowly closed as he focused on the feeling of her fingers on his chin. When his eyes opened, he stared directly at her lips. It was beginning to dawn on him just how much she had changed in their years apart. Just the same as she had thought of him, he realized that she had aged gracefully. The same old Olivia with new scars and new lines. New stories to tell. Without withdrawals, his vision had cleared and he could actually see who he was looking at.

"Why are you here, Olivia." he whispered, low and dangerous. There was something she wasn't telling him, he could see it in her eyes. The hesitance, the tip-toeing around her words. He hadn't seen it sooner because they hadn't talked about the job.

"Elliot," she breathed.

"Olivia," he carefully intertwined his hand with the hand that she had placed on his face. "Olivia, why are you here? Just tell me." he could feel his heart speeding up at the horrifying silence between them. The words were on the tip of her tongue, he could feel it. Her pulse was racing beneath his fingertips, the sun bleeding down on them.

"I'm here for you, Elliot." she responded, her voice barely audible to his ears. Things were making sense now, and he felt crazy for not seeing it sooner. How did she know where he was? Who was she speaking to outside of his villa the night before? Who was she calling when she thought he didn't hear?

"They sent you," he gulped. "They sent you here to pull me out."

"It's time." she tilted her head sympathetically, fighting off tears as she saw the betrayal on his face. "It's time to go home, El."

"No," he harshly spit the words out, letting go of her hand before turning to go back into the villa. "Olivia, no. They can't do this. You can't do this." he backed away defensively as she followed him in. Fury and fear lingered in his eyes

"They knew I was the only one who could get to you," she cried, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. She tried to walk closer but each step of hers was followed by a step backwards from him. "I'm sorry."

"Please," he pleaded, his lips tightening as he pressed them together. "I'm not done here. You can't let them take me, please. Liv, please, I'm begging you."

The helplessness in his voice only broke her heart more. She finally got toe to toe with him, cupping his cheeks with her palms. "Elliot, listen to me. Just listen," she sobbed with him. "The operation is done. You know it and I know it. You've been out of contact with the cartel for days, they know something is up and it's not safe anymore, okay?"

"No!" he cried, anger and sadness mixing together in a stomach-turning cocktail. "I just need a little bit more time. If they pull me out now, they'll lose the entire case! You can't let them do this, please. Please."

"Your son is waiting for you at home. You have a whole life waiting for you there." she brushed her hand over his cheek repeatedly, trying to level with him as their tears fell at the same time. "There's nothing left for you here, you have done all that you can and that's more than enough. You know you can't stay."

"I— I don't even know what to do in New York." he looked at her, not even bothering to restrain the hopelessness in his eyes. "I don't have a home there, I don't have a job there. My son barely knows me, Olivia!"

"You have me!" she shook her head. "Don't you get it? You've always had me!" her head bowed into his chest as she sniffled. His hands rose up to her head, running through her hair as he held onto her.

"Wh-what are you saying?" he tried to ask through the tears. It had been years since he had seen that look in her eyes. The look that begged him to hold on. Gitano, gun to his head, her gun to him, she had never meant to cry that day.

"What I'm saying is... why not?" she held on tighter to him. "It was always inevitable and we both knew it. We ran from it. We ran from it, Elliot, the both of us. So, why not? We aren't partners, there's no badge between us. Why can't we?"

His eyes fell back down to her lips and the magnet began to pull. He knew what she meant, she didn't have to say it. She never did. Years and years of walking a tightrope made from twine, the inseparability had to mean something. They just never looked for what it meant. They danced and danced around it, pretending it didn't exist. That every touch wasn't electric and every comfort was found in each other. They spent twelve years lying to each other and another ten without even so much as a word.

"Come home with me," she whispered even lower, moving closer and pushing the gap between them smaller. Tears still streamed down both of their faces as the inches between them became less and less. Her grip tightened, her arms moving to wrap around his neck. "Come home with me, Elliot." the words had become a mumble against his lips, "Come home."

Willpower snapped, twenty two years of toeing the line fell through, and he kissed her with a ferocity that his wife had never known. One hand on the small of her back and one in her hair, he was going home. She moaned into his mouth just seconds before pulling away. "Come home with me and we can do this together, Elliot. Just... just come home."

"Okay," he said in a heavy breath, leaning back in to close the space between them. Their bodies nearly shifted backwards from the strength of him leaning into her. The backs of her legs were met with the armrest of the sofa. As he deepened the kiss, he maneuvered the both of them towards the mattress of the pullout couch.

As soon as he was sitting on top of the blankets, he pulled her forward into his lap. Her knees wrapped around his legs, straddling him as she towered over him. Between breathy kisses, she briskly unzipped his hoodie, palming his chest overtop of the white tank he was wearing beneath. His hands gripped her thighs strong enough she was certain he would leave a mark, but she couldn't find a reason to care.

His hands slipped between them, unzipping and unbuttoning her pants. His lips pulled away from hers, dragging down the side of her neck with sporadic bites and kisses. How someone's body could feel so much like a home astounded him. She was electricity and euphoria wrapped up into a perfect human being.

She cried out when his hands dipped beneath her panties, fingers swiping against her core. Her hands came away from his neck to pull her shirt over her head, leaving her breasts covered by nothing but a light grey bra. His head bowed into her chest, his tongue dragging lines along her olive-toned skin.

"Elliot," she whimpered. "El, please." she lifted her hips, helping pull her jeans down past her hips. His hand left it's spot from against her warmth, working in unison with her to rid herself of the rest of her clothes. He shed himself of his pants, his hardening erection resting against her stomach as he worked to get his shirt off.

As soon as it was nothing but them and bare skin, her arms came back around his neck and her lips crashed back down against his. His hands were a frenzy against her lower half, grabbing and squeezing all that he could grab of her.

The tears on both of their cheeks had dried and the sadness had turned into pure need. His fingers found her wetness once more, teasing her clit with painfully slow circles. Her head fell back as she ground down against his digits, begging for friction. He found that he could read her like a book, all of her wants and needs through the sounds of her moans. Without warning, he slipped a finger into her slippery arousal, basking in the feeling of what it was like to finally touch her after 22 years.

A strangled cry erupted from her lungs, her nails digging harshly against his back, leaving trails of red down his skin. Incoherent begs and pleads fell from her lips as he added a second finger. She could feel the hotness of his breath against her chest, sparking every nerve ending within her body.

When she allowed her mind to cross that line, she always imagined it would be what it always was; a fumble. A messy, indirect stirring of movements. She was wrong, and so damn happy to be wrong. The synchronicity was unmatched to anyone who had ever touched her. The ease that came with moving with him, it was all too perfect.

"Elliot, I need you," she panted, reaching down to grab his length. His cock was already red and leaking, awaiting to find the depths of her that he had never had the blessing to experience. She shifted up onto her knees, allowing him to help guide her down onto his length. As she sunk down against him, his eyes stared directly into hers. The sound his body sang as he filled her was unlike anything she had ever heard.

Her hips rocked against his as he cradled her in his arms. The feeling of being filled so achingly perfect with him was a feeling she hoped she would feel time and time again. Her head buried into his neck as she fought off the urge to cry again. "Come home with me," she mumbled, kissing the pulse points beneath his jaw.

His nails dug deeper into her skin, leaving crescent moon shapes in her hips and moving downward. He squeezed her ass, inciting a high pitched tremble in her voice. He thought he knew beauty, and maybe he did. He saw beauty the day his children were born, the day things fell into place for whatever reason, but he underestimated the beauty of what it meant to be one with her. The final move that they had never made before.

He didn't need to say out loud that he loved her and neither did she. Their communication had reached a level that it had never seen as he hit every sweet spot inside of her without even needing to know how. She fit against him in a raw form of perfection, touching every inch of her that needed to be touched.

Her head lifted, her hand coming to his cheeks as she rode her lower body against him. The love in his eyes was loud enough for a stadium, yet wordless. It was all she needed. They could do this. They could have a life in New York with their children, they could have the life they both deserved.

Every question in her eyes was answered with his touch, a level reached that she had only ever heard of in fairy tales and fabricated stories. With him, it was nothing but ecstasy.

His hands stroked up her body, squeezing her breasts as she came back down to kiss him. Sloppy and careless movements of their lips melding together, it was too perfect. It was everything he had dreamt of and more. Beyond more.

"I'm close," she mumbled as her pacing became erratic and inconsistent. His right hand was back on her clit, teasing her core with every blissful touch that she begged for. Watching her beginning to come undone on top of him was nearly enough to send him over the edge. At that moment, it hit him. Anywhere was home if it was with her.

She squeezed around him, her cries becoming louder and unconstrained. "Come for me, Olivia." he commanded in a deep and low breath, thrusting into her with more strength, his body begging for her to release. She was growing lost in the sensations that were new to her, her body moving at its own volition.

Her head dropped one more time before rising, her eyes connecting with his as any restraint she held disappeared. Her orgasm washed over her with a flood of adrenaline, staring into his ocean blue eyes as she shivered and sobbed.

That was all it took for him before he snapped, his own climax following in suit. The grip he had on her tightened, grabbing whatever part of her he could to anchor himself down as he filled her. Before he had time to take a gasp, she crashed her lips back down on his, kissing him through his deep moans.

A few seconds felt like an eternity suspended into thin air before they both came crashing back down to reality. He fell back against the couch's mattress, her body falling along with his. Chest to chest, they both struggled to catch their breath.

He wasn't sure how he'd get home or what home would look like. His entire life was up in the air and it was a truth he didn't want to face. But her offer was far too tempting to deny. If he was to go home, it would be with her and only her. "I love you," he muttered into her hair, still holding tight to her naked body. "I don't wanna leave, but I'll go home with you."

"We can do this, Elliot." she whispered, her head resting against his shoulder. "We were always meant to."

He felt her breathing beginning to slow and realized she was on the fast track to falling asleep. His arm reached out for a stray blanket, pulling it over top of their bodies as he felt the exhaustion begin to consume him as well.

She was right. There was no badge between them, no line of partnership that both of them were afraid to cross. No rings, no vows. Only them. He would pack his suitcases, leave behind what he wasn't meant to carry, and carry on with her.

The burn in his eyelids became too much to bear and he drifted off with her in his arms.

Elliot Stabler's Villa

Time: Unknown

Date: Unknown

He woke up in a startled cold-sweat. His body felt as if it had been run over by a semi, every bone aching beyond relief. His clothes were drenched in perspiration and his veins cried for the very thing they were getting out.

A sharp knock at the door pulled his attention, forcing him to sit up. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and patted for her body with the other. A frigid rush of adrenaline ran through him when he felt the spot beside him was empty.

His eyes shot open, rapidly looking around the room. He looked towards the familiar frame on the wall, realizing there was no hole in the wall.

"No," he whispered, forcing himself off of the couch as fast as he could before the pain would debilitate him. A wisp of a breath left his lungs as he looked for any sign of her. "No, not again."

The second knock at the door called for him, but he kept looking around. Nausea swept through his body as he stood, searching for any sign of her suitcases. He glared at the front door, feeling the presence that stood behind it. Slowly, he stepped closer and closer towards the origin of the knock.

This couldn't be happening.

Not again.

His hand slowly turned the knob, opening the door. As soon as he saw her, his jaw fell slack. He pulled his arm away from the handle before the door was even opened all the way. There she was, in the flesh. Olivia Benson.

She wasn't asleep next to him.

She was wearing the same clothes as she did the day she showed up.

Horror consumed him as he realized that the nightmare was beginning all over again.

"You look like hell."