a/n: hello I am back. yes, I have temporarily paused trials and the arrangement so I could work on this before the premiere of Law and Order Organized Crime. I want to explicitly state right now that this story deals with the heavy topic of addiction. If that is triggering to you, please don't feel the need to read this. 

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John F. Kennedy International Airport

11:30 P.M.

1/14

She clutched her boarding pass in her sweating palm, her other hand holding onto her luggage handle for dear life. Her brunette hair framed her face as she once again looked down at the slip of paper in her hand, re-reading all of the details. As soon as she had gotten the call, she had hastily packed her bags, kissed her son goodbye, and stepped into the taxi without hesitation.

It was the first time in years that she had heard Elliot's name. A flush of adrenaline had chilled the lining of her stomach at the mere mention of him. It was Huang's voice on the other end when she had picked up the phone. God, she could barely remember the last time she had heard his voice either. He had offered Elliot an undercover position a few months after the death of Jenna Fox, something to bring him back into the system. She wasn't given all of the details, except those of most importance. One being that Elliot had lost contact with his handler after refusing to be pulled out.

Typical Elliot, she had thought to herself. For a split second, she had considered hanging up the phone. It was no secret that he hadn't been there to help clean her messes up, why the hell should she be there? Until Huang had explained further.

"Now boarding, passenger group A. Now boarding flight 7186 to Rome, Italy." a voice sounded over the intercom. She made a quick mental checklist for the fifth time, reassuring she had everything she needed. A book, her passport, her carry-on.

She joined the line at the boarding pass check desk, anxiously tapping her fingers on the suitcase. Huang's words continued to reverberate between her ears. 'Liv, he's working a drug smuggling ring. He tested dirty in his last routine drug test and refuses to listen to his handlers. I don't think anyone else can get him out of this.'

That was when she hadn't needed to give it a second thought. The rest of the information was limited. She had his address in Puglia and the instructions on how to get there. She knew he was working within the court of the United Nations, and somehow kept Huang in the loop. The rest was muddled along with ten years of unknown history.

It was ironic to her that a near 20 hour trip seemed longer than 10 years without him.

Her boarding pass was scanned and she quickly slipped into a window seat towards the front of the plane. She thanked every God that could possibly exist in the universe that the plane wasn't packed with people, and leg room was available for her flight.

'Remember my friend Elliot that I told you about?' she had knelt down to Noah's height, watching him slowly nod. 'Well, he needs mommy to come help him for a few days. So, I need you to be really good for Lucy because she's gonna keep an eye on you until I come back. I promise, it'll only be for a short time.'

For once, Noah took the news without complaining. No tantrums or fits, only the slight look of disappointment that, to her greatest chagrin, he wore somewhat often.

She lifted the cover on the window, watching as the wheels of the plane moved faster along the runway. Lines of guiding lights decorated the pavement, glowing blue as they escorted the flight to its lift off. In what always felt like a cathartic moment, the wings took flight into the darkness of the sky, the sight of the skyline growing smaller with each passing moment.

She looked over the tall skyscrapers, watching the city she loved float away as they continued to elevate. Her task was to pull him out and bring him back, an impending fight she knew he'd try his best to win.

Her tired eyes closed at their own volition as a soft 'ping' sounded over the speakers, alerting the passengers that they were now cruising at 30,000 feet in the air. She rolled her head back against the blue neck pillow that sat snugly on her shoulders.

Over the years, she had formed several images in her head of what his life was like after leaving Special Victims Unit. Maybe he had gone home to his family, finally giving them the attention they had always begged of him. To see his son grow up without as many late night calls and school events missed. In that scenario, he had fallen back in love with his wife; no longer just an obligatory emotional attachment, but the real love she assumed he'd felt in the beginning. Maybe he stayed in the force, working a smaller and less demanding unit. That, or something entirely different that no longer required the badge.

Or maybe he had left completely. That seemed more plausible given that she was on a flight to Italy. She'd wondered if he had gone undercover. Working with ATF or maybe even WITSEC after Jenna had died. Something fierce and demanding so that his mind wouldn't have time to wander. That always seemed to be his go-to coping mechanism; flooding his mind with work to avoid the unavoidable.

Ten years and she hadn't once run into him on the street. His name had never crossed her desk on a case file from another unit. She'd stopped calling once the annoying pre-recorded voice on the other line had told her that his voicemail was full. She didn't ever wanna hear that same voice alerting her that his number was no longer in service.

Ten years and he had never even once reached out when her face was plastered on the news. She wasn't even sure of how she'd handle it if he did. It had become a waiting game between the two of them; who would reach rock bottom first and break the silence?

She won.

Whatever the last ten years of his life had entailed, she hoped that it was worth it. She hoped that he had done some healing.

Flight 7186, Above the Atlantic Ocean

8:25 A.M.

1/15

She picked at the left over food tray they had brought around breakfast time. Most of the passengers were still sleeping soundly with the noise of the engines to lull them to rest. The soft blue glow of the overhead lights illuminated the space in front of her just enough to see. She hadn't stopped to think of what was actually happening. She would see Elliot in less than a few hours.

Why hadn't they called Kathy? She couldn't wrap her mind around that concept. Even if he was undercover, why wouldn't she be the one who could pull him out? Sure, she wasn't a cop, but Huang didn't exactly make it sound as if his reasons for refusal were because of unfinished business. He'd tested dirty; plenty of cops working undercover did that. She remembered the way Darius Parker had grilled Fin for the same thing. Cops who sit in rooms with drug dealers who like to sample their own product can't always fend off the contact high.

It wasn't that Kathy had a particularly better skill set in pulling Elliot out, but rather that she didn't know what about herself made her the best option either. Their partnership had long since ended, and she had a hard time believing that his constant declaration of Semper Fi would extend this far.

She was a stranger to him. She was a stranger to her old self as well. She could only assume that her words spoken to him no longer had the same push and pull as they once did. He had nothing to lose with her anymore, they'd already lost it all.

Somehow, 30,000 feet in the air, that thought made her feel six feet under.

Their partnership no longer hung in the balance. Her scornful words would no longer hurt him or change his mind. She wasn't the other half of his brain, the reasoning and the logic, or the person who could pull him back down to Earth. Not anymore.

That was supposed to be Kathy now. Well, it was always supposed to be Kathy. It was never her intention for it to be any other way. Kathy was his wife, and the silver band on his ring finger. She was the silver badge on his hip. That was all she was ever supposed to be.

He'd made a choice ten years ago between the two, and she had a decade to come to terms with that.

Though, the thoughts rattled on in her mind; why was the badge chosen now? At rock bottom, the hour that didn't know hope, the badge came before the ring.

She glanced out the window again, watching the wing of the plane chasing the sun as they passed into a different time zone. The sky was painted with angelic swipes of orange and yellow, soon to cascade into blue. She could already feel the beginning of the jet-lag kicking in, or maybe just the exhaustion of a restless night in an uncomfortable chair. It didn't matter, she already knew that the upcoming days would be just as tiring.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. We are running ahead of time on our flight to Rome. We are officially halfway there and the weather is expected to remain clear and sunny. Hopefully everyone stays comfortable as we venture on the last leg of our journey."

Her eyes closed at their own volition, her head falling back against the seat. On the flight back, she was expected to have him beside her. That was her assignment, her job. The most impersonally personal task they could ask of her.

She hoped that the painted sky would morphe into the colors she was meant to feel. She wasn't blue with sadness or red with anger. In fact, she wasn't exactly sure what she felt or what she was supposed to feel.

For now, it was grey. She was grey. No answers, no solid ground to get her footing on. She was a blank canvas waiting for the colors to paint the next few days of her life.

30,000 feet in the air and she realized that life was going to change. There was no going back to the life she had before. No matter the outcome, even if he slammed the door in her face, there was no return to the life she had somewhat comfortably built in his absence.

Time slipped through the mind like sand through fingertips. Some memories stuck, some never stayed past the moment they were lived in. Oh, how odd of a feeling it was knowing she was going to walk into a memory that she knew would stay with her until the very end.

How very odd indeed.

Flight 7186, Rome, Italy.

5:13 P.M.

1/15

The jetlag was settling in already. She knew she had been on the plane longer than what the clock depicted. Sliding through time-zones without her feet even touching the ground was hellish on her body.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you look out of the left side of the aircraft, you'll be able to see the beautiful sights of Rome. Please remain seated as we further our descent."

Elliot hadn't left her, not really. She remembered the night she had stopped at CVS on her way home from work, purchasing a hot glue gun before travelling home. Her life hadn't reached the full chaos that was to come, but in that moment, the chaos she did have was more than enough.

She'd sat under the dim light of a lamp, carefully gluing on the small gold medallion that he had sent to her to the bottom of her gun. Every bullet that would fire from that weapon would come with some sort of homage to him. Every time she had hesitated to pull the trigger and every time he had brought her back down to Earth when she had no other option.

That damn medallion kept her in check. It reminded her to be better, to act smarter than him. It had become the substitute for his all-knowing eyes that were repeatedly on her. When the light caught the ornament and shined in her face, it was a warning.

Be better than me. Be braver. Act smarter. If not, this is my shot as well. It's my badge number, my name, my tin, Olivia. So, think twice.

She didn't like to think of the things that small medallion had seen, or seen her do. To her, it was sacred, it was his eyes watching. His guidance, and sometimes, the only damn reminder of his existence.

She had spent nights contemplating if their partnership had actually happened. Well over a decade and it felt like the strangest fever dream. One moment it was there, the next it was dust. Cremains of a relationship that elegantly defied the rules and expectations. A bond with the strength of a two-ton weight. Lying awake at night, it was hard to believe that any of it had ever happened.

That was where, surprisingly, most of her blame lied. She wasn't as angry at the fact that he was gone or that he hadn't even given so much as a call after her life had become gravely risked. It was the debate in her mind, the paranoia that she had made it all up. There was no tapering in from one life to another, no adjustments. He was there, then he wasn't. Sleight of hand in it's most complex forms.

She blamed him for the sleepless nights. For the constant questioning of her own sanity. Why was he there and why was he no longer? She'd asked the walls that very question and had never gotten a response. Only ever more fuel thrown onto the fire of the idea that he was a mirage and always had been.

She blinked. It was that simple. She blinked as he turned the corner, escorted by two IAB agents. He'd turned his head to look back at her, she blinked, and the chapter closed.

If she had known it would be the last time she laid her eyes on him, God, she would've ran. She would've chased him through that hallway, likely pleading beyond her integrity's allowance. She would've chased him until the world had dragged him away from her further than her grasp could reach.

It was a blink and suddenly the self doubt and intrusive thoughts had filled the hole he had left.

She could feel the assault against her body's inertia as the plane fought through the earth-centered gravity. The surroundings zoomed past her through the window, trapped in a motion blur as they descended closer to the runway.

The speed of her body riding beneath the seatbelt shot adrenaline through every vein in her body. With a heavy thud, she could feel the wheels of the aircraft hitting the ground. Her hands gripped the arm rests, white knuckling the metal as the force of the landing ripped through her.

As the plane slowed it's roll down the runway, her head fell back against the seat. She took in a sharp and deep breath, closing her eyes in hopes of warding off the dizziness.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our destination at the Rome-Fiumicino International Airport. Please remain seated until the seatbelt light is turned off. It's been a pleasure flying with you all and we hope you enjoy your stay in this beautiful city."

As soon as people began to move about the cabin, she quickly hurried her carry-ons and herself out of the aircraft. Her body felt beyond sluggish as she carried herself through the airport, suddenly regretting not keeping as sharp on her Italian as she should've. She heard short mutters of english spoken scattered in the crowds of people, mostly lost amongst the sea of those speaking the country's native language.

The customs agent gave her a raised eyebrow as she glanced at Olivia's paperwork, instantly recognizing that she was traveling on the FBI's dime. Beyond that, she raced to collect her bags from the baggage claim and catch the airport's railway to the train station.

Roma Termini

7:09 P.M.

1/15

"Un biglietto per Mola di Bari, per favore." she spoke tiredly yet carefully to the clerk at the train station, handing over her ID.

"€55.26 per favore." the clerk replied enthusiastically, double checking the passport ID as Olivia dug through her bag. She fished out money, trying to count through it as quickly as she could with the line behind her forming.

She grabbed the ticket that the clerk slid against the desk, mumbling "Grazie," before hurrying to the right track. She had packed and rushed out of the country so fast, she hadn't even considered the accommodations she would need to make.

She wanted more than anything to crash into the nearest hotel bed, or better yet, her own bed. All of it had happened so fast, they'd shoved a plane ticket and some money in her hands and frantically sent her across the world.

As soon as she boarded the train, she pulled out her phone and began scrolling through hotel options in Puglia. The odds of her even stepping into the room was slim given that she was there to pull Elliot out of his own mess. But on the off chance that he would slam the door in her face, she didn't want to be left out in the cold.

Just as she had started to settle into her little cabin, her phone beeped. She opened a text from Lucy stating that Noah had recorded her a video before going to bed. Her lips quirked into a soft yet tired smile as she hit play.

"Hi, mommy!" his smile beamed through the video, showing off an ice cream mustache — to which she assumed Lucy had given in and let him have since he was missing her. "I hope your plane to Italy was fun, and I miss you already. Tell your friend Elliot I said 'hi' and please bring me back a t-shirt! Good night, I love you!" he blew a kiss at the camera before the video died down.

She felt a tear stinging her eyes. As she traveled across the world, she had been sucked back into the memories of her partnership, not quite realizing the magnitude of how much change had been made. Back in the States, her son was sound asleep in his bed in their little home. God, if she had gone back in time and repeated that sentence to her past self, the younger version of Olivia would probably stare at her with a slack jaw and a hopeful heart.

Her body curled tightly into the reclined chair, beyond thankful to be out of the crowded cab of the airplane and instead somewhere that she could stretch her legs and actually rest. She peered out through the window, watching the surroundings pass her by as the train sped against the tracks. From the brief images she had seen of Puglia, she'd gathered that it seemed to be a beautiful place to live in.

What a shame that his time spent there wasn't to simply enjoy the blue waters and the sunny skies. The dark clouds of crime followed him wherever he went, they were his center of attention. She had googled his address sometime during the painfully long plane trip. He was living in a villa owned by the nearest embassy compound, which existed unbeknownst to the locals.

She began to wonder what his cover was. His accent was enough to give him away, they must've had to work around that somehow. A travel agent, maybe. Someone who could easily explain how they ended up on the other side of the world without seeming too suspicious. She also wondered how he had gained the cartel's trust. Nobody trusted a foreigner on their land, especially one who wasn't born and bred into the business of cartel family values.

Maybe that was why ten years was the magic number. God only knows how long it would've taken to successfully infiltrate.

Despite it all, she had to feel some sort of pride in him. She had done her bidding in the five stages of grief, she had felt the anger and the denial, the depression and the bargaining. Beneath it all, she was proud. He was always a good man, one who tried his best to work through the faults in his humanity. He had grown in the twelve years she'd spent with him, hopefully he had grown even more.

It was mind boggling to think that they had waded through the waters of grief together, but apart. When she was in a dark-lit bar with a cold beer in her hand while wondering why he had left, he was feeling just as lost. He was presumably at home, mentally destroying himself for pulling the trigger on Jenna. His fists had likely hit a wall or two, bleeding knuckles and cheeks stained with dry tears.

God, why didn't he just fucking call her?

When the sun had risen, she was in the sky. The wings of the plane carving out a path for her to rise higher alongside the beam of light. Now, as she settled back into the feeling of being on the ground, the sun started to bid the passengers goodbye. The amber glare poured through the windows of the train, bringing a calm to the slight rise of anger in her veins.

She plugged in her headphones, setting her playlist to shuffle before exhaling a heavy deep breath. Her body released as much tension as it could, reserving the tension that never really left no matter what she did.

She still had a hell of a long way to go.

Eastern Italy - Adriatic Sea Coast

6:43 A.M.

1/16

She learned the hard way that sleeping on a train was much easier than sleeping on a plane. There wasn't the constant pressure pounding down on her ear drums and no high pitched whirring of an engine just outside of her window. It was rather peaceful. The view of the deep blue sea was directly beside her window, matching the miles the train had travelled. When she had awoken barely an hour earlier, they were still riding along the coast.

It was past midnight in New York and yet it felt like she had been travelling for months. Her life back home was asleep – even though the city never slept. Huang had told her to call as soon as her train was beginning to reach Puglia, but she had decided against it at first. She wanted to watch the water and the peace that it brought. By then, an hour had passed and she had done nothing other than watch the waves push up to the shore.

Her phone buzzed on the seat beside her, pulling her attention away from the long strip of the sea. "Hello?" she answered, seeing Huang's contact come across her screen.

"Hey, Liv. Still on the train?" he asked, sounding clearly exhausted from staying awake for her unreturned call.

"Yeah, I've got like 15 minutes left." she said, checking her watch. "My stop is at Mola di Bari."

"Good," he exhaled. "There's a driver there from the Embassy, he'll pick you up and take you to Stabler's villa. It's a little over a half hour's drive to Puglia from there. They've arranged hotel accommodations just in case things go south."

She shuttered thinking about that. She was trying not to focus on the idea of him slamming the door in her face and telling her to get lost. Their mutual stubbornness wasn't exactly a guarantee that if he did kick her out, that she'd be right back on the plane by tonight. Still, it horrified her to think of how 'south' things could truly go.

"Liv? You there?" George asked.

She gulped down the lump in her throat. "Yeah, I'm here. Uh — does Elliot know I'm coming?"

"Not as far as I know. His handlers haven't said anything else since we last spoke. I could be wrong, they may have told him by now."

"Well, I'm sure he'll appreciate the blitz attack from the person he's least expecting. You feds are always the best at poking a sharp stick where it hurts the most." she laughed sarcastically. "What's the extraction plan?"

"It's up in the air right now. If you can get him out of Puglia as soon as possible, that'd be the best. Though, I'm not sure how his health is going to be able to handle this. Just do your best, we'll figure out the rest of it." he sighed. She could feel his frustration, especially since she was feeling the same way. Classic Elliot, always putting up a fight.

"Alright. I'll reach my stop in a little bit. I'm assuming the Embassy handlers will update you from here on out?" God knows she didn't wanna be the one making every call. She was already sticking her neck out as it was.

"Yes. Stay safe, Liv... and thank you. I appreciate the massive favor." he smiled on the other end of the line and she could hear it in the softness of his voice before hanging up. Maybe he knew truly how much he was asking of her. God, it had been so long since Huang had seen the two of them together, but he didn't really get to see what Elliot's departure had done to her. Did Huang know how much she had changed when Elliot left? Did he realize that he was asking her to inaugurate a moment into time and history that would be a memory of hers forever? The moment when she reunited with her partner after a decade?

If Huang knew how much he was asking of her, she hoped he at least understood the repercussions of what could happen. A million different scenarios.

As she thought of each scenario in the unending list, the train had reached its station and she had departed from the comfortable little cabin. Her mind had reached the negative scenarios as soon as she saw the agent waiting with her name printed on a piece of paper, guiding her to the car that would take her to Elliot's home.

Elliot's home that wasn't in New York. Not a stone's throw away from her at all times. Countries and seas that divided the two of them. Somehow, ten years felt all too long and somehow all too short.

Torre Canne, Puglia, Italy

7:35 A.M.

1/16

She sat comfortably in the back of the black SUV that was driving down the coast. She had learned that the agent driving her was named Vincent, and she could hear the slight italian accent behind his english words. He was a little older than her, dark black hair with grey streaks and bags under his eyes likely attributed to the decades of stressful work. He was tight-lipped about Elliot, but that was okay because she wasn't asking many questions.

Her eyes dragged along the coastline as they drove along the rising sun. She noted as the GPS chirped as soon as they passed the sign that noted they were arriving in Torre Canne. A small beachside village which was home to clear waters and a drug trafficking base. Though, that wasn't usually on the travel pamphlet.

A golden glow covered the rows of villas and the stone pathways that lead up to each door. She had to admit, it looked like what she assumed paradise looked like, maybe even heaven. Though, every time she thought about the fact that she was in the near vicinity as Elliot, her ears rang. They might as well have blind folded her because she had no idea which turn would be the last one leading her face to face with him.

She dealt with anticipation every day on the job, constantly waiting for the next case to come in the door or waiting for a jury's verdict. None of it paired with the unease in her stomach as the car began to slow down. Her mind switched to hypervigilance, noting every single door on every single house, asking herself which would be the one he could slam in her face or welcome her into.

When the car came to a halt, she felt her stomach bottom out. A thick wave of nausea ran through her, chilling her to the bone. "This is it," the gruff voice of Vincent replaced the ringing in her ears. "We'll catch up later, but if you can get him to return the call of his handler sooner rather than later, it would be much appreciated."

"Got it, thanks," she whispered, swallowing one of a million more lumps in her throat. Vincent unbuckled himself, stepping out of the car to help Olivia retrieve her bags. She stepped out from the back passenger seat, staring up at the round archway alcove that Elliot's door was within. Her hands were shaking and she made no attempt to calm them.

Vincent set her solitary suitcase and carry-on bag beside her, handing her a small blue card with his number written down. "Doctor Huang gave us your number, but here is mine in case you need anything."

Her jaw was still slightly hanging as she slowly lifted her head to meet his eyes. She could muster up a nod and nothing else, tucking the card into her pocket. Before she knew it, the black SUV was gone and she was left on the cobblestone with nothing but her bags and her fears.

She stared at the doorway through her eyelashes, afraid to lift her head any further for fear that she would see the disconcerting face of her old partner ready to turn her away.

Just beyond that door.

Ten years. Countless wounds; emotional and physical.

Was she supposed to feel the buzzing in her chest? The electrifying thump that only ever started when he was near? It had been so long, she had forgotten that it even existed. She had always chalked it up to courtroom jitters or case anxiety, yet it ceased when he left.

She took slow and steady steps towards the light blue painted door.

Not one run-in on the street or in a coffee shop, no cases crossing turf. She always thought it would be a coincidence, but she never thought it would be 4,531 miles.

As she neared closer, the buzzing grew stronger. Her hand was already formed in a shaking fist, ready to alert him of her presence. For 12 years, they shared one strand of history. They told the same stories, experienced the same pain. Somewhere along the way, that strand split in two, and the stories changed. The experience varied, partners became people and most people were always on their own path. Most people underestimated the weight of the word 'partner' and she did too, until she lost hers.

Her knuckles hit the door, sending a few small knocks to sound off into his home. Somewhere in the universe, a timer had started. That same timer was beginning to end like the last grains of sand in an hourglass. How long had Olivia Benson gone without Elliot Stabler?

She didn't breathe for the entirety of the time she heard footsteps growing closer. Her lungs simply wouldn't allow the expansion in her already constricted chest.

Would that timer start all over again? Maybe this was just a blip. One piece of sand that refused to fall to the bottom of the hour glass, a mistake. It would stop, and restart, and she would go another decade without seeing the blue oceans in his eyes.

The doorknob turned and her shoulders squared, a voice in her head telling her to hide that crippling fear. As the door turned slightly ajar, the first thing she recognized was the familiar grey hoodie covering his chest. Her eyes slowly led up to meet his, but the sight was less than comforting.

Elliot Stabler, in the flesh, staring at her as if she had grown a second head. His jaw fell slack, his arm coming away from the handle before the door was even opened all the way.

"You look like hell."