A/N: Olivia makes a decision.

Olivia spends the first night sleeping restlessly in the unfamiliar surroundings. She wakes early, showers and drives into town to buy food and other essentials. The convenience of being able to have take-out delivered at two a.m. was lost leaving the city. She sees some promising restaurants that she could try later and a few boutiques where exercising some retail therapy would be fun. But neither of those things are on her mind.

She needs to work.

If she's going to contemplate transferring out of a unit where she's spent over a decade of her life building her career, Olivia isn't going to leave anything unfinished.

True to her word she spends the first several days putting her cases to bed. She makes sure to bring her laptop along with the small stack of folders from her inbox. By mid-week, every DD-5 is filled out, follow-up calls are made to witnesses, and any details from victim's statements are fine-tuned for the A.D.A.

Olivia sends what she can using secure NYPD servers, then UPS packaging for sensitive information for her notes and casefiles. She calls Thursday morning to make sure Cragen has gotten everything.

"Hey Cap."

"Liv," he says. "Great timing."

"So, the files came?"

"Yeah," he answers, and she can hear him rustling through the paperwork. "Looks like everything's in order," he adds. "Now you can concentrate on relaxing in…Bayville?"

She laughs at his surprise.

"Yeah," she confirms, realizing he's noticed the return address. "A sorority sister was generous enough to loan me her family's vacation home on Long Island while they're in Australia," she explains. "She was always inviting me up, I feel bad suddenly being available when she's not here."

"If she knows you as well as I do then she understands."

"She's been great," Olivia tells him. "How's everything there?"

Cragen looks in on an interrogation of a suspected child abuser that Elliot's conducting. His detective is calmly speaking but the boss can see how much he's simmering just beneath the surface. Don knows he's been on his best behavior to prove Olivia leaving isn't taking its toll after barely a week without her.

"We're good," he answers. "You're not supposed to be worrying about us, remember?"

"Old habits…"

"So, develop new ones," he suggests. "Gotta go Liv, duty calls."

After they say their goodbyes, she finishes up her breakfast of fruit and toast then decides to get out of the house. Olivia dons a t-shirt, some compression capris, grabs her earbuds for a music app she has on her cell and heads out for a brisk walk on the beach.

It's different here. She can breathe. Inhale. Exhale. The heat of the sun, the grit of the sand, the beautiful water. To her left is seemingly endless blue, changing in shade depending on depth, not unlike the eyes of her partner.

But the Long Island Sound is darker, quieter, calmer.

Olivia doesn't know why the loss of one-year-old Jaden's life is what's broken her. There have been so many before him. Those that hadn't had the blessing of a quick death, but were instead used, abused, broken and murdered in their childhoods but simply hadn't stopped breathing.

They are the walking dead.

She's had countless nightmares during her years of their eyes, their tears, the details of the horrors they'd lived and had upon meeting her, been encouraged to re-live. Olivia had told them it was so that they may have some semblance of justice for what they had been forced to endure.

But no matter the number of years handed to those monsters, they never equate to the individual hells created for their victims. Therapy helps many live past it, some get through it with other support systems but the rest…drugs, promiscuity, alcohol, crime and sometimes the creation of a brand-new pool of victims results.

It's endless.

There must be something else out there where she can feel useful that isn't quite so damn…emotionally brutal. Even if it isn't for the almighty NYPD. Then again, she finds it's hard to imagine not carrying her badge or feeling the weight of her Sig on her hip.

And while she's ruminating over her failures, she'd be self-deprecating not to remember the countless damaged souls she's managed to help along the way. The successes if you can call them that.

Then there's her partner.

Try as she may not to think about Elliot, if she's contemplating leaving the force, that includes walking away from him too.

She knows he'd wish her well, promise to keep in touch but the two of them would inevitably disappear from each other's lives. And as anguished as it was to see Jaden's small innocent body lying motionless on that table, Olivia is ashamed to say that the mere thought of never seeing her partner again feels worse.

As she pushes through the last mile and returns in the direction of her temporary home, she thinks today isn't the day to dissect that.

Olivia feels the burn in her calves as she trudges up the stairs to the house and inside for a long shower. The added resistance of the sand definitely made a difference and despite stretching before and after, she knows she'll be sore tomorrow.

In stepping out of the shower and toweling off, she hears the ringing of the cell she's left on the bed. She tightens the terry cloth at her chest as she rushes to answer it. It could be an ADA with questions about one of her cases.

Former cases.

Once she sees the caller ID and realizes it's Elliot, Olivia's more hesitant to answer but swipes her thumb over the screen to accept the call anyway.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi."

"Am I interrupting anything?" He asks. "If I am, I can just call you back later it's –

"It's fine Elliot," she interrupts, putting him on speaker to continue dressing. "Just got back from a walk on the beach a little while ago."

"It's kind of hard to imagine you walking anywhere other than the streets of New York," he responds. "Let alone a stroll with your toes in the sand."

She smiles at the comparison.

"It was more of a workout than a stroll, but I understand what you mean," Olivia tells him, pulling on a pair of light washed capri jeans. "And maybe that's part of the problem," she adds. "You can't even imagine me being on vacation."

"It's not that I can't imagine it," Elliot corrects. "I just don't like being without my partner."

He rarely admits to anything like what he's just told her, so it takes Olivia awhile to respond.

"Liv?" He says. "You still there?"

"Yeah," she tells him, putting on a white v-neck t-shirt. "I'm here. Look, El…if you called to ask if I've made any decisions about what to do, I haven't."

"I didn't," Elliot says. "I just called to see how you were doing."

"I'm getting there," she answers, instead of going with her usual. "I've only been here a week but this place," Olivia begins, stepping in bare feet out onto the back patio. "It's great El. For the first time in a long time, I can just…relax."

"Paint me a picture."

She takes a deep breath as she looks out over the serene view before her. A couple of grade school aged kids play with a dog nearby, the waves lap against the shore and a boat is anchored off into the distance as seagulls fly overhead.

"The house is beachfront," she begins in an easy tone. "Sunrises are equally as amazing as the sunsets," she adds. "There are quaint little shops, a farmer's market with fresh fruit and vegetables and a few good restaurants," she goes on. "No surprise that I've been too busy wrapping up work to have tried any of them."

Olivia realizes she hasn't heard the background of the city whizzing by if he was in the car or the bustle of office banter if he were in the squad room.

"How are things at work?" She asks. "Sounds kind of quiet."

"I'm uh…I'm not at work."

"What's going on El? Olivia asks. "Where are you?"

"I'm home."

"Why? What happened?"

"I decided to take a vacation?"

"Elliot."

"I got a 3-day rip for getting a little hands-on with a suspect."

"It's been a long time since you've let your anger get the best of you," she tells him. "And I'm sure whatever the scumbag did isn't anything you haven't seen before."

It's quiet on the line for a few seconds. Neither of them wanting to admit the timing of his most recent outburst.

"Talk to me."

Olivia hears a heavy sigh on the other end. She knows he's contemplating saying something other than what actually happened or, at the very least, plans on leaving out some pertinent detail or two.

"Please," she all but whispers.

"Cragen told me today that he didn't know when or if you were coming back," he begins. "He said I may have to get used to the idea of a new partner," he adds. "And let's just say…the interrogation of a domestic violence suspect didn't go so well after that."

So much for her boss's assertion that he's better at dealing with change. Olivia knows her partner dealt with his divorce so well this time around, not because he's had such personal growth, but because he saw it coming and decided not to fight it. He'd told her as much one night after a shift when he'd invited her for a drink.

It was a surprise to her because, contrary to popular belief, it's not something they'd often done together. But Olivia felt a nuance of change with him that evening, only hesitating a second before accepting his rare invitation.

"Okay," she'd said. "But you're buying."

"Of course I am."

Twenty minutes and two beers later and they were laughing about John's latest next Mrs. Munch prospect.

"This is nice," Elliot said, eying their surroundings before resting those baby blues onto his partner. "I think they have karaoke on Wednesdays."

"Then it's a good thing it's Friday," she told him, grinning.

"Right, yeah," he says. "Good music though," he adds, drumming his fingers against the table to a Bon Jovi song.

"What's going on with you?" She asked, mildly squinting at him as if trying to figure out the source of the change. "You hit the lottery or getting a hell of a raise or what?"

Elliot exhaled, looked away then dropped the smile from his face before returning to her again.

"It's final today," he said. "I'm officially divorced."

"Wow," she replied with raised eyebrows. "That's…it's…okay well," Olivia tried. "Congratulations?"

When his smile was instant, she knew she'd said the right thing.

"Thanks."

"So, shouldn't you be out celebrating with the guys or…using them as your wing man to try and get a celebratory piece of ass?"

"Really Liv?"

"Kidding okay, but…still," she added. "Most cops wouldn't be out with their female partners in a part-time karaoke bar celebrating his divorce," she told him. "They'd be stuffing singles into the G-string of some stripper."

"I'd like to think I'm different," he asserted. "And trust me, I'm exactly where I wanna be."

The smile he had given her after was disarming. They'd had one more beer for the road before Elliot had dutifully driven her home. As she moved to exit the car, he reached for her hand, squeezed it causing unexpected butterflies.

"Thanks Liv," he said.

Perhaps it's the reason she doesn't hesitate to utter the next words.

"Why don't you come here?"

"What?"

"Come here Elliot, there's plenty of room."

"You're supposed to be contemplating your next career move if you don't come back," he says. "Aren't you worried about me…I don't know, influencing your decision?"

She laughs and it feels good.

"I don't know if you've noticed but I'm kind of a hardass," Olivia says, and Elliot can't help but smile on the other end. "And I sure as hell have been an independent thinker long enough for your mere presence not to sway me," she adds. "Besides, surely you don't believe that I've stopped doing what's in my own best interests."

"No," he tells her. "But what will your friend say?"

"I'll talk to Kim and she'll be fine with it," Olivia answers. "But if you have somewhere else you'd rather be…look, I'm not gonna beg. Enjoy your three days."

She's about to hang up when she hears it.

"Liv, wait."

"Yeah?"

"I'll be there," he says. "Just…give me a couple hours."

She disconnects the call then texts him the address. Suddenly nervous but doesn't understand why. Elliot Stabler has been a part of her life for over a decade. They've seen the best and worst of one another. But him coming there with her? If feels different as if three days is gonna bring some type of monumental change.

"That's ridiculous," she says quietly.

Olivia busies herself with washing, drying, and folding her week worth of laundry. It's nearly 2am in Australia so she'll be putting off that call to her friend. A couple of hours later she's entering the kitchen to start lunch, parting curtains and opening windows to smell and feel the warmth of the ocean breeze.

Clouds are building over the water in the distance. As she chops celery and dill pickles for chicken salad, she notices them darken with periodic flashes of lightening. With their beach day ruined, sand combers abandon their efforts and head in.

It isn't long before she hears the downpour.

"Shit," she says.

Maybe I should call and tell him not to come.

She eyes her watch, wondering if he's even left the city yet before reaching for her cell. He answers on the second ring.

"Hey, what's up?" he asks.

"I was just calling to see where you were," she begins. "There's a really bad storm brewing and I was gonna suggest that you wait a bit longer before the drive."

Moments later there's a knock on the door.

"Hold on a sec."

Olivia grins after looking through the window and seeing him on the other side. She quickly opens it not wanting him to get any wetter.

"Come in, come in," she tells him. "You're getting drenched."

"Hey, it was just as much of a surprise to me as it was to you," Elliot says, stepping inside on a door mat. "Guess I should've checked the forecast."

Her partner is nearly soaked. A gray t-shirt clings to his chest. Moist patches grow larger on the front of his thighs. He carries an overnight duffle over his right shoulder and the large brown bag in his left hand has done little to repel the unexpected deluge.

"What's that?"

"No way in hell they got any decent Szechuan chicken and veggie eggrolls in this place," he says, trying to wipe the water from his face.

As soon as she smells it, she forgets all about her homemade chicken salad.

"If you brought my favorite Chinese all the way here to try to butter me up…" she begins, taking the bag to the kitchen. "Stay there."

"Not gonna work huh?"

"Nope," she says, returning to the door. "I'll go and get a towel," Olivia tells him as he steps out of his shoes. "Be right back."

When she returns, he's drying himself off with the t-shirt he was wearing. She's seen him bare-chested plenty of times over the years but seeing him here, now…it gives her pause. There's no case to distract her. She's not interrupting a workout or waking him from a nap in the cribs to update him on a witness. And the butterflies in her stomach are back, viciously so.

Elliot turns in hearing her footsteps. He has a slight smirk because he caught her staring but continues wiping himself down.

"You could've waited for the towel you know," Olivia says before tossing it to him. "I've already done laundry."

"It's okay," he says, squatting to retrieve another t-shirt from his duffle. "I've used a washer and dryer before."

"So you haven't been sending all your clothes to the cleaners?"

"Not all of 'em, no," he answers, pulling the dry shirt over his head as he follows her into the kitchen. She puts the chopped ingredients for the chicken salad in Tupperware before putting them in the refrigerator.

Olivia pulls some dishes from the cabinets while Elliot removes the containers from the bag as they prepare to reheat the food. She pauses to give him a look of disbelief.

"What?"

She just continues staring. Elliot sighs and shakes his head with a smirk.

"Okay, I admit it," he tells her. "I don't have time to do laundry and when I tried to use the one in my building all my white t-shirts and boxers somehow ended up turning pink."

"You left your red tie in there, huh?" She asks, scooping chicken, lo mein and an egg roll onto two plates before popping it into the microwave.

"You know, you don't know me as well as you think you do, Benson."

Olivia leans against the opposite counter, arms crossed against her chest, head tilted to the side.

"Fine," he says after being eyed for a few seconds. "I left the damn tie in there. The one fuckin' red tie I own, and I managed to leave it in with the whites."

She breaks out into a wide grin.

"Maybe I'll teach you, a grown ass man, how to properly launder your clothes," she says, ribbing him.

"Who's gonna teach you?"

"Well, as you like to repeatedly point out, I've never been married and don't have any kids," Olivia quips. "So I've been incredibly independent for some time now."

"I do not point that out repeatedly," he defends. "I-

Beep, beep, beep

"Well look at that," she begins, moving to grab the food. "Saved by the timer."

Olivia gestures to a drawer for the utensils and they each grab a plate and any napkins that aren't soaked and take short steps to the kitchen table.

"Got anything to drink?" Elliot asks.

Before she gets comfortable, she gets up and pulls two Bud Lights from the fridge before rejoining him at the table. They eat in silence for a few minutes before deciding to broach the subject.

"How long are you gonna be here?" He asks.

She pauses chewing a few seconds before continuing. The question shouldn't have taken Olivia by surprise, but it has.

"I honestly don't know," she answers. "Just taking it day by day."

"Whatever it is about this place…it's working," Elliot tells her. "You look good…relaxed."

"Thanks," she says, hoping she's not blushing. "There's something to be said for a few nights of restful sleep with no vics or perps to worry about."

"There's been years of vics and perps," he begins. "And God knows we're both long overdue for vacations but…why this vic? This perp? This case? Why now Liv?"

She rests her fork on her plate altogether before picking up her beer, takes a long pull before sitting it down again.

Olivia stands abruptly and begins clearing the table, bagging food to put the leftovers in the fridge. Her partner follows her lead, rinsing the plates before loading the dishwasher. She moves into the living room beer in hand, resting in one corner of a comfortably worn brown leather sofa and hugging a throw pillow against her stomach.

Elliot takes the other corner, grabs the remote from the coffee table then turns on the plasma screen television hanging on the opposite wall. He wastes no time finding an NBA playoff game, relieved the storm hasn't interfered with the service as he takes a pull from his own pilfered Bud Light.

They both know she never answered his questions, and he'll patiently await her response no matter how long it takes. Fortunately for him, she's always been more likely to talk. Less than half an hour later she breaks her silence.

"Seeing Jaden lying on that table, I felt deep, profound, overwhelming emptiness," she begins as he mutes the game. "Sierra Jackson was breaking down in front of me and I…had nothing," she explains, eyes beginning to pool with tears. "No handholding, no words of comfort, nothing."

Elliot scoots closer.

"It was a hard situation Liv," he whispers. "No one expects you to just bounce back."

"Don't you?"

"What?"

"You're questioning why I'm here, why I left…you are Elliot."

"I haven't questioned the need for a break, just the not coming back part."

"The job…it's become too heavy El," she begins. "And I'm too damn tired to keep carrying it," she adds. "I need something lighter, hell, I need a life."

"You wanna try and adopt again?"

"No," she says getting up to pace. "Yes. Fuck!"

Olivia runs a frustrated hand through her tresses, takes a deep breath, then faces him again.

"It's been twelve years in SVU," she says. "This job has cost me friendships, intimate relationships, the opportunity to become a mom," she adds, swiping at tears. "And yeah, I've helped a lot of people and that's great but what the hell do I have to show for it?"

Elliot is speechless.

"Most cops get out after two years," she reminds him. "I probably should've left long before now," she goes on. "Maybe I'd be married, have a kid or five," she says, smiling sadly. "Look…I don't regret what I was able to accomplish in the unit, with the squad…with you," she adds. "But I don't think I realized until now, just how much I need to leave to find my own happiness."

Olivia picks up her beer from the side table and carries it to the kitchen to recycle. When she walks back through the living room her partner is still sitting in silence. The basketball game never unmuted.

He's speechless.

"I'm gonna go ahead and turn in," she explains. "It's about 9am in Australia so I'll call Kim to get the okay," she continues. "Until then you're welcome to use any bedroom. Goodnight, Elliot."

End A/N: Complete silence from her partner after such a huge revelation. A wonder how he'll respond?