It's been weeks since they've seen or spoken to one another. Not intentional on the part of either of them, it seems they've mutually agreed not to seek each other out unless an overlapping case calls for it.

The job is what they've always had.

Olivia doesn't fully trust him as much anymore and Elliot remains intimidated or plain old scared to find out all he's missed. But, the rhythm of working together is the one thing that remains without question. That and, they still obviously care about each other.

So, after seeing the news and how their colleagues had turned on Elliot, she decides to trade her work clothes for a V-neck sweater, blazer and jeans and drive to his side of the East River. Despite his response to the press, which was directed to the Brotherhood supporting group of cops present and watching, Olivia remembers at least one of her former partner's demons.

She's familiar because no matter how much work they've done with their respective shrinks, it's the same demon as hers - a rough start with a shitty parent. And how sometimes the things that shitty parent said in anger or while drunk, sticks to this day.

What Olivia doesn't expect to find, despite the falling temperatures, are overgrown weeds, unkept flowers and an out of place weight bench. Last she visited the place; Bernie had the patio space looking beautiful. It made the captain envious of not having her own outdoor oasis to enjoy a nightcap or her morning caffeine fix.

"Liv?"

She was so busy taking in the abandoned garden, she didn't notice Elliot's trek through the kitchen before he spotted her and opened the back door. Tie and shoes are gone and his shirt is open revealing his defined chest beneath a thin white tank.

"Hey," she says. "Sorry if I scared you," she tells him. "I tried calling and texting but—

"—Had my Bluetooth speaker up listening to music," he interrupts, gesturing for her to join him inside. "Everything okay?"

Olivia can't blame him for asking. It's been a while since she's dropped by and she hasn't made him feel like he's able to do the same. Elliot goes to her at the 1-6, never her home. He doesn't feel nearly as welcome at her apartment as he did all those years ago.

"Saw the news conference," she explains, trailing him into the living room. "Wanted to check in, make sure Donnelly isn't renting space in your head."

Elliot's eyes darken with anger, then guilt and finally surrender all in a matter of a few seconds. He exhales harshly and she watches as he walks in to the kitchen reaches into a cabinet, uses the ice dispenser on the fridge, and returns with two glasses and a bottle of Woodford Reserve whiskey. He leaves several inches of space between them.

"I'll take this as a yes."

"We knew each other since we were kids," he reminds Olivia as he pours the amber liquid into the two tumblers.

"And he couldn't have been less like you if he tried."

"I drove his pregnant wife to the hospital and nearly had to deliver the baby," he confesses, taking his first sip.

Olivia smirks, shaking her head at the parallels.

"Least you guys didn't get t-boned on the way," she tells him, enduring the temporary burn down her throat.

"He named his kid after me," he rasps, trying to quell the emotion in his voice by emptying the tumbler. "Now his wife and infant son have nobody," he continues, reaching for the bottle again. "I don't even know if she'll qualify to get his pension."

Before he can pour another, she covers his hand with her own. He doesn't fight her, just leans back and anxiously runs his palms along his thighs.

"Elliot, look at me."

He takes a deep breath but complies and the self-reproach Olivia sees is both expected and annoying as hell. It's ridiculously misplaced and she doubts ditching her without so much as a note had him this guilt-ridden.

"Donnelly set you up so that the Marcy Killers put a hit out on you," she says, refreshing his memory. "And when that didn't work, he had the Brotherhood put two in you at close range."

"You knew?"

"Of course, I fucking knew, Elliot," she asserts. "I'm a captain and Bell respects me enough to keep me in the loop."

Olivia takes a breath, closes her eyes and takes a few seconds to calm herself, realizing they're getting off track.

"Frank Donnelly chose to be a corrupt cop," she continues. "He made guys like Preston Webb and Richard Wheatley comfortable doing violent crimes in this city, our city," she adds. "And his choice to step in front of a train instead of facing the consequences, was just another bad choice in a very long list of horrible decisions."

"I know," he says. "Just didn't expect to get a medal."

"You're talking about the combat cross."

"I didn't want it but Ayanna…insisted," Elliot tells her. "Didn't earn that.

Olivia roots around in her bag for her cell and eyeglass case. She finds them both and types in a couple of words then pulls her glasses over her eyes before reading off her phone.

"For members who have successfully and intelligently performed an act of extraordinary heroism, while engaged in personal combat with an armed adversary under circumstances of imminent personal hazard to life," she says, "Which part of that doesn't describe what you did?"

Finally, a tiny smile breaks through on his face as she drops her cell and glasses back into her bag.

"Thanks, Liv."

"You talking to anyone?"

"Been a little busy," Elliot excuses. "Got an appointment on Monday though," he informs her. "I know I shouldn't feel responsible but…I figured maybe I need some help with that…among other things."

People seem to keep leaving. First Bernie, then his youngest. He knows their departures aren't personal attacks on him, but the new quiet has allowed him to ruminate on what's missing from his life and what he needs to be happy. It has to be more than work.

"Good," she offers. "Bernie out with her bridge friends?" She asks, looking around.

And just like that, his sullen expression returns.

"No," he answers, pouring another drink. "She moved in with Kathleen," he explains. "We all agreed she needs more consistency and my schedule is anything but."

"I can see that," Olivia says, taking another sip. "Now it's a bachelor pad," she goes on. "You and Eli can leave the seat up to your heart's content."

"It's just me now."

"What?"

Elliot rubs a frustrated hand down his face before standing and moving into the kitchen.

"You hungry?" He asks, surprising her. "I am."

Olivia abandons the sofa and follows.

"Ever been to Li's?" He asks, rummaging through take-out menus. "I'm thinking Ramen."

"Elliot," she says, leaning against the counter next to him. "Where's Eli?" She asks, placing her hand on his forearm to stop his movement. "He okay?"

Finally, he stops.

"Yeah he...left for a college prep high school in California two months ago," he manages. "It has a great…a great soccer program," he adds. "He's happier there."

Olivia can see Elliot's doing everything he can to hold back tears. His mother left and his youngest moved to the other side of the country. Thank God he's starting therapy again in a few days. The last time he had to get used to an empty house was during his separation.

"Come here," she says, tugging his forearm until she has him in her embrace. "He'll be back before you know it," she adds as he tightens his hold. "The holidays are right around the corner."

As she comforts Elliot, she can't deny how good it feels. The warmth of him through his thin tank, the weight of his body against hers, and his heavy palms as they flatten on her back. It goes on, the hug. Seconds turn into minutes. And when she feels him angle his face towards her neck, Olivia knows it's evolving into something else.

"Why do you do it, Liv?" He asks, breathing the question against her skin. "Why keep—showing up for me after how much I've hurt you?"

She can't say it's because he'd do it for her because Elliot wasn't there during some of the darkest times in her life. And despite their obvious attraction to one another, she can't say it's because she's in love with him either. But she does love him and likely always will.

"Muscle memory," she goes with. "And…I really missed you."

He pulls back at the admission, holding her eyes.

"I really missed you too," he says. "So why not let me take you guys out?"

Olivia releases him and sits on a stool at the island, runs a hand through her growing locs and meets his eyes as he remains leaning against the opposite counter. She can't admit how terrified she is now that he's available.

"All the undercover work—

"—Which I no longer do."

Olivia eyes him for cutting her off and he puts both hands up in surrender before she continues.

"It made your reemergence feel somehow…less real," she admits. "Temporary."

He nods his understanding.

"You thought I was gonna pull another disappearing act."

"You ghosted me again after you came back," she reminds him. "Then there's the fact that you and Eli lived in that hotel for months."

"What about after I signed a lease on this place?"

"Easier to get out of than a mortgage and you managed that."

One point for Olivia. No wonder she's put him off left and right. He's been about as stable as a hand grenade with a pulled pin. And, equally unreliable.

"You're right," Elliot admits. "And if we're gonna fill each other in after being apart for a decade, we probably shouldn't be in a restaurant full of strangers or have your son along to listen."

She thinks about the serial killer who had her dead to rights in her and Nick's first year together, Lewis and the physical and mental scars he created, adopting Noah, the inevitable Tucker conversation, and even things he was there for but still don't know about like shooting the terror suspect last Christmas.

"Definitely not."

"It's Friday so I know Noah doesn't have school tomorrow but where is he?"

"Sleepover until Sunday morning," she answers. "Why?"

Elliot turns and opens the drawer full of take-out menus again then joins Olivia on the adjacent stool.

"Ramen still sounds good," he says, perusing the folded paper.

"You wanna do this now?"

"The alternative is putting it off knowing how good we are at avoidance, growing to resent one another for leaving everything unsaid, moving on to other people and—

"—We keep being these well-acquainted strangers that occasionally work together," she finishes.

"I don't know about you, but I don't wanna move on," he admits. "I also don't want this to continue to be a one-sided thing where you keep doing all the giving and I keep doing all the taking," he asserts. "You deserve better. So, yeah, Liv. I wanna do this now."

Elliot abandons the menu and reaches for her hand, palm to palm. Olivia intertwines their fingers, caressing his thumb with her own.

"Ramen sounds good," she says. "But I hope your first question won't be about my dating life."