Elliot's waiting inside her lobby when she gets home. Olivia watches his Adam's apple bob as he swallows harshly at the sight of the bruise beneath her eye. His fists tighten at his sides as she approaches.

"That the reason you got a protection detail?" He asks, gesturing to her face. "Tell me whoever did that to you is either dead or already locked up because I—

"—Stop," she tells him. "It's being handled."

"Then why did you call me?"

Olivia realizes they're getting the attention of Hector, the desk clerk and some other residents.

"To talk, which I'd rather do without an audience."

He dutifully follows her to the elevator without another word. Elliot takes note of the PH lit up on the buttons and raises his eyebrows.

"Decided to finally start spendin' some of that captain's salary?"

"You don't exactly live in a dump, Elliot."

She should've seen the state of his apartment after that assassin came after him and wrecked the place. But he just shrugs his shoulders and smirks.

"Had to sign a lease somewhere."

"You commuted from Queens for years," she reminds him. "You didn't think about looking in the place you actually work?"

"Brooklyn ain't what it used to be," he points out as the doors open on her floor. "And I'm still a lowly detective so Manhattan is out of my price range."

"Oh please," she says, keying open her door. "Your suits probably cost more than the mortgage on this place," she adds. "I'm guessing private security was lucrative?"

Elliot smiles at her observation but doesn't confirm or deny.

"This is nice, Liv."

"Thanks," she says, opening her closet to hang her coat.

"How 'bout a tour?" He asks, after she's done the same with his.

"And deprive you of being a snoop? Absolutely not," she tells him. "I'm gonna go change."

On the outside, Olivia seems cool and calm. But she's had years of practice in interrogation rooms. A racing heart matching her frazzled nerves is what she's expertly masking. Making the decision that tonight was the night to talk to him wasn't easy. But she's exhausted, chronically short-handed and she doesn't want to do this shit all by herself anymore.

She decides on a black V-neck cable knit sweater and jeans. Her appetite is trash so ordering take-out is off the table. Maybe a reunion with some tea will help settle her stomach and her nerves. Olivia finds him in the kitchen, sipping coffee.

"Where's Noah?"

"He's with…family," she tells him. Not wanting to explain yet another thing she's not shared with him since his return. "But he'll be back home tomorrow."

Elliot leans against the island, watching as she uses her Keurig to steep one of her Bigelow Perfect Peach herbal bags.

"What's on your mind, Liv?"

"A lot," she answers. "I was forced to work with someone on this case…my case, that I didn't trust and it reminded me how important that is."

"To have a partner that you can trust?"

She nods.

"I haven't had an official partner since climbing in rank, but the more people I lose, the more I miss…having that trust, that connection, a sounding board—

"—Someone who knows what your ideas are before you say 'em out loud."

Olivia nods again.

"Yeah, that too."

Once her tea is ready, she adds honey and moves to the opposite side of the island.

"But our 'friendship for now' doesn't seem to be off to a great start," he admits. "I've reached out but—

"—I've been busy, I'm sor—

"—Not that busy," he interrupts. "But I don't blame you, I get it. It's what I deserve," he asserts. "You've been through God knows what while I was gone and now that I'm back you don't even trust me enough to tell me when you've been hurt. Or when you're scared for Noah."

She can't disagree with him. He used to be her first thought when anything happened. It was a reflex she had to suppress. Only the trauma caused by a certain psychopath brought it up again, two years into his absence.

"Kathy's gone, Eli went off to college and the rest of my kids are grown," he begins. "And I sit in that big empty place…

Olivia hears the broken hitch in his voice and she knows whatever he's about to say will effectively level her.

"And I think – God. How the hell did she do this?" He asks. "How did I not fucking realize until that moment, why I was so important to you? I hate myself for that," he adds, as the tears finally crest his lower lashes. "Because I fucking left you," he manages, swiping at the moisture on his face. "I severed that connection abruptly and selfishly with no thought as to just how—how cruel that would be."

Her heart breaks for Elliot and herself all over again. It shouldn't have taken the loss of his wife and an inevitable empty nest for him to understand how hurt she must've felt when he dropped out of her life. But it did. And if he's feeling even an ounce of the pain she endured after Cragen told her he put in his papers, Olivia's glad he finally gets it.

"I wanna tell you that it's okay," she begins, fighting her own tears. "But it isn't – wasn't. Not for a long time after you were gone," she informs him. "Yes, I'm still hurt. Yes, I'm still angry about it but I can't—

"—Can't what, Liv?" He asks, meeting her on the side of the island. "Please don't tell me you wanna walk away once and for all I—

"—No," she says, cradling his face. "I need my partner," she whispers against his cheek. "I'm tired, El. So, I'm asking you to figure this shit out with me," she adds, pulling back to look into his morose eyes. "Because I missed you and I want you back," she manages as tears cascade down her cheeks. "For good."

Forever.

He bows in absolution, shutting his eyes as she leans her forehead against his.

"I don't deserve this," he rasps. "I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"That's too bad," she whispers. "Because you have it anyway."

The moment the words leave Olivia's lips he embraces her. Sore ribs protest against the solid wall that is her former partner but she doesn't give a damn. She buries her face in his neck, inhaling the warm, musky scent of him and lets him take the full weight of everything she's been carrying. The changes in the squad room. Noah not considering her his real family. Amanda leaving. And having someone target her at her home again, this time with her son present.

Elliot can have it all. Let him bear the load for a while.

He slips a comforting palm to the back of her neck beneath her ponytail and the other rubs soothing circles up and down her spine. They stand in her kitchen for minutes that stretch so far that time becomes inconsequential. Elliot completely wraps her up like he never wants to let go. For her part, Olivia clings to him, half afraid she'll wake up dreaming that he's actually there.

"I thought I lost you," he says when they finally pull back. "When you called, I thought it was you telling me you were done."

"No," she asserts. "I'm pretty sure that's impossible."

There's a force between them. She's always felt it. A palpable electrical current that flows from Olivia to Elliot. They spent twelve years ignoring it and the last two confused as to how, after all that time, it could still be there. She reasoned that it was because she'd obviously missed him. He blamed it on the loss of his wife and the familiarity of being around his former partner brings.

Neither has to lie to themselves anymore. They're calmer now. Less emotional. So, when she slides her hands up the back of his head and pulls him towards her, it's not an action born of devastation or reminders of present or past traumas. Olivia wants to show him he's exactly where he should be.

She kisses one side of his cheek, then the other. Then, with her lips slightly parted, she covers his. Initially, it's just a simple press. But when Olivia takes his lower lip into her mouth, she feels him clutch her tighter. Either in shock or to restrain himself.

Perhaps both.

No matter the reason, Olivia's undeterred. It's been too long without him. She's been too patient. And restraining herself is something she is no longer willing nor obligated to do. So, she runs her tongue against the seam of his lips until Elliot opens his mouth. And just like that, he's no longer a passive participant.

Olivia crosses her arms behind his neck as he deepens the kiss and plunders her mouth. It's ridiculous really. The idea that she's literally weakened by the strength of his desire for her but she feels it. He tastes her, slides his fingers over her ass, bends and lifts her onto the island.

"El," she says, managing to pull away, resting her hands on his shoulders.

The same desire in his eyes is mimicked in hers but he also sees…hesitation.

"You're right," he agrees. "It's…we should slow down."

She laughs as she palms his face again and gives him a short kiss.

"It's been over twenty years," Olivia points out. "Tectonic plates have shifted faster."

"Then what is it?" Elliot asks. "Talk to me."

"Besides my aching lower back and sore ribs," she begins. "There's so much you missed, El. So much you still don't know," she adds. "And if we give in to this right now, as much as we want to—

"—We'll be so busy trying to make up for lost time that we'll delay the important shit."

"Yeah," she tells him. "And if that kiss was any indication…"

Elliot's sea ravaged eyes seem to grow darker at the mention of her lips on his.

"You hungry?" She asks.

His eyes dip to the V of her sweater then unapologetically trails over everything he'd like to touch.

"Yes," he nearly growls.

Olivia rolls her eyes but can't help but grin as she feels blush covering her face.

"For food, Stabler," she asserts, shaking her head and dropping her hands to his waist.

"I could eat," he says, but his tone hasn't changed.

"Elliot."

He leans down, puts his warm open mouth against the spot behind her left ear and runs his tongue back and forth before biting her lobe. Olivia gasps as the move creates a flash fire in her lower belly. Her hands automatically grip his waist tighter and she has to close her eyes and take a moment.

"I've caused you so much pain, Liv," he whispers. "I just wanna offer you some pleasure."

Olivia knows it's not a good idea. That she should push him away so they can talk. It's the reason she called him here. But his lips on her skin is putting her mental acuity into rapid decline. The only thing she can focus on is her quickly beating heart and the fact that she's subconsciously scooted closer to the magnetic heat of his body.

Elliot peppers kisses along her cheek until he reaches her mouth once more, not hesitating to slip his tongue inside, tasting her like he's wanted to for years. He breaks the kiss to open his mouth on the other side of her neck, giving the opposite lobe the same treatment.

"You're safe with me, Olivia," he promises. "My clothes can stay on," he rasps. "I'll just use my mouth and fingers."

Well. Shit.

He pulls back to find her browns nearly black, her lids hooded.

"Take me to bed."

Talking has gotten them nowhere.

He uses great care with Olivia as she gives him directions to her room. When they enter, a lamp on the nightstand is the sole source of lighting. Elliot lays her down across the bed then kneels at her feet.

He pulls off her boots and socks before leaning over and reaching for the button of her jeans.

"You sure?" Elliot asks.

Olivia sits up long enough to let down her hair, remove her sweater and toss it across the room revealing a black silk and lace bra beneath.

"I've spent the last two years waiting for you to leave again," she says. "I need you to touch me and prove this isn't just a dream."

Elliot wants to say it again. She can see it in the depths of his blues. It's not just desire that darkens his irises. It's love. He gives her a slight nod as a promise that he'll do exactly as she's asked.

He puts a knee on the bed then climbs up to sit next to her. Moments later he's kissing her again while reaching behind her to release the clasp on her La Perla. Elliot has one hand combing through her growing locs and the other smooths up the delicate skin of her back. When Olivia pulls away from his kiss to shrug off the bra, he holds her eyes.

"Before you look," she begins. "I want you to remember three things," she urges. "Scars don't grow on the dead, the one responsible is long gone, and you couldn't have prevented it even if you were here," she concludes, gripping his jaw. "No pity. Understand?"

"No pity," he asserts.

She watches his jaw tighten at the first site of the faded pink cigarette burns on her left breast. He moves his hand from her back to run his index finger over the small circles then puckers his lips against them. Elliot continues his journey, dropping the hand from her hair to run his fingers along the new bruises on her right side until he comes across the pattern of a key.

He ignores it. Instead, he runs his thumb over her peach-hued nipple until goosebumps spread over her flushed skin. She moans into another passionate kiss and feels her heart race faster. When he moves to pull her other breast into his mouth, her palm flies to his nape and she arches her back, encouraging him to take as much as he can.

"Fuck," she manages as he works her over.

If he keeps it up, she could climax from this alone.

Elliot kisses his way down her abdomen until he reaches the button of her jeans. This time he doesn't hesitate. He stands to lower the zipper and Olivia lifts up and helps pull them off, leaving the matching silk and lace-trimmed boy shorts beneath.

He licks his lips as if she's a raw steak and he's a starving lion. She lays back and feels more than sees him run his nose against the crotch of her panties and deeply inhale. Elliot smooths his fingers up her golden thighs beneath the thin material and tugs them down her legs, letting them drop to the carpeted floor.

Olivia sits up on her elbows to see his response to the bareness of her. His eyes are nearly black, his expression feral. She resists the urge to bring her thighs together and just lets him look.

"Ask me again," he urges. "Ask me if I'm hungry."

"El."

"Ask."

Olivia rolls her eyes and shakes her head but submits.

"Are you hungry?"

"No," he asks, momentarily surprising her. "Starving."

Elliot lifts one thigh over his shoulder and before he can reach for the other, she resists.

"Wait."

"You wanna stop?"

''No, but," she begins, blushing deeper. "In case things get messy," she explains. "You may wanna…take your shirt off."

There's no way in hell she's gonna have him see all of her and not at least see the upper body he's obviously worked so hard keeping chiseled.

He lowers her thigh and stands again. Olivia watches as he quickly unbuttons the faded black shirt and tosses it to the arm chair in the corner. He does the same to the white tank beneath and wastes no time resuming his position.

Elliot lets her thighs fall to the sides of his shoulders. He parts her with his fingers and unhurriedly licks from her entrnce to her clit, not making her wait for his tongue. The texture of it meets her most sensitive bundle of nerves again and again.

Olivia holds one breast as he reaches for the other, palming it and treating her nipple to the speed and calloused ridges of his thumb. She grows wetter by the second, but helps aid her moisture by sinking his tongue inside her. He plunges it against her walls over and over until her juices grow heavy enough to take his fingers.

Elliot curls one then two into her depths up to his knuckles. And when a guttural moan rips from her throat, he knows he's found the right spot. She's writhing so hard against the bed that he lowers the hand from her breast to hold her down.

But he doesn't stop.

Olivia feels it. She knows she's on the verge. Her heart feels like it's going to run from its cage, she has a sheen of sweat covering her flushed skin and thanks God that the protection detail is gone because she hasn't moaned this loudly in years.

"El," she manages. "Please…I need to…

He doesn't bother answering. Just doubles his efforts of pounding his fingers against her G-spot, alternating licking, sucking and rubbing against her clit until she soaks his chin and neck before releasing a less pained more aroused version of the primal scream she let out in the park.

Good thing he took his shirt off.

Elliot climbs on the bed to lay beside her until her breathing slows and she's able to form complete sentences again. He avoids the sensitivity of her breasts and runs his fingers down her sternum to caress the soft skin of her abdomen.

Olivia turns to grab his face and return the favor of plundering his mouth, stirring her arousal again when she tastes herself on his tongue. She glides her hand over his broad chest to below his waist where she palms the solid bulge she feels beneath denim, causing him to gasp.

"Liv?"

If what he just did for her was any indication of his sexual prowess, and it sure the fuck is, she doesn't want to wait. She leans over to his right ear, nibbles on it briefly before letting it go.

"Take your pants off," she whispers.

"But you said—

Olivia shuts him up with another sensual kiss and begins unbuttoning until he gets the picture and tugs and kicks them off himself, taking his boxers with them. She climbs on top of him, rubbing her moistened folds against his shaft, letting him feel what he's done.

"Fuck."

"Is that a yes?" She asks.

"Hell yes," he says, grasping her waist.

Elliot sits up as she puts an arm around his shoulders. Olivia grabs hold of him with her other hand, positions him at her entrance and slowly inches her way over his length and girth.

"Fuck," she rasps, opening her mouth against his shoulder. "Just…give me a second."

"Same boat, partner. Same boat," he says, smiling before meeting her lips again.

He drops his mouth to Olivia's chin, then her neck and her collarbone, planting kisses along the way. One hand threads through her hair while the other palms her breast. She leans back indicating she wants Elliot's mouth on her again and he happily obliges, prompting her to begin moving.

It is a slow, sensuous agonizingly good ride. So much so that she has to tamp down the desire to shed happy tears. As emotional as the night has been, she knows Elliot would understand. But crying during sex has never been appealing. But with the way he's filling her, the girth of him creating the most delicious friction against her inner walls, fuck if she doesn't want to.

"God," Olivia manages. "You feel so good."

And his mouth?

God that mouth of his never stops connecting with her skin. If he's not kissing and nipping her lips or gliding his tongue against hers, Elliot is leaving love bites everywhere he can reach or getting his fill of her breasts. He is most certainly infatuated with them. Because if his lips aren't covering her nipples, his fingers are. Rolling them between his thumb and index fingers or working them in tandem with his lips.

"I can't believe we're finally here," Elliot tells her.

"Me either," she breathes. "But I'm glad we are."

Sweat beads on Olivia's forehead as she picks up the pace. From the sparse lamplight, the shadows of their lovemaking dance on the walls. Their breaths quicken. Her moans get louder. His grow deeper.

She pushes him to lie down so she can lean back. The new angle allows Elliot to rub against her clit more purposely. As he thrusts upward, Olivia grinds down until her thigh muscles are on fire and she can feel her orgasm urgently approaching.

"El…I'm close."

"Me too."

He begins using the texture of his right thumb to rub pressing circles on that sensitive bundle of nerves until her rhythm falters and he knows she's about to explode. Olivia leans back further, grasps his thighs and let's go. The pulsing of her walls around Elliot nearly breaks him but he waits, allowing Olivia to enjoy the descent.

"Fuck," she rasps, falling against his chest.

"Good?"

"You have to ask?"

He shakes his head in the negative and thrusts up another three times before grunting his release.

"You good?" Olivia asks, smirking.

"Shut up," he says, threading a hand through her hair before planting another short kiss on her lips.

Then, he pinches her ass.

"Ow," she says. "What was that for?"

"So you know it's not just a dream."

"You're such an asshole," she quips but smiles as she pushes up and off of him.

Two hours later after a shower and change of clothes, they're on her sofa with containers of various Thai dishes spread out in front of them, talking like they should've been doing over a year ago. Elliot is on his back, head resting against the arm with Olivia half on top of him, rubbing his side. Giving him a playful jab when he makes silly jokes.

Neither can recall the last time they felt so at peace, hopeful…ready.

"You had this—whole other amazing life without me," he rasps, threading a hand through her hair. "In spite of what I did," he reasons. "And I'm so proud of you, Liv. I don't wanna miss anything else."

"Then don't," she urges. "If you wanna do this, you're gonna have to stick around for the hard shit too, El," she continues, raising her head to meet his eyes. "Because it's not just my heart you'll break this time."

He leans down to kiss her, just because he can. Just because they're both free now.

"I missed you too much to wanna be anywhere else but right here," Elliot says. "And it's not just for better or worse," he adds. "It's no matter who or what tries to stand between us. I'm home."

"Yeah. You are."

Hers.