"Neglect, fear and selfishness," Elliot says, sitting with his back against a bathtub. "That's how I told him I lost you," he continues. "But that's not all of it."

He hears the water sloshing behind him with her subtle movement. Olivia's not been in the tub long, not long enough for pruned fingers are tepid water. So, she sits and, he talks.

"He suggested that I needed a fresh start," he goes on. "And I wanna do that by…giving you what I owe you," he adds. "An explanation."

It's somehow easier this way, keeping is focus on the large form stone-like gray tiles instead of meeting her eyes, afraid of what he may find. Anger. Judgement. Or worse, apathy. As if it's been too long and she doesn't have the energy to care anymore. Especially after everything she's recently been through. But she came, and she's listening. He can't ask for more than that.

"Six months before I put in my papers there's no way in hell anyone could've convinced me that I was leaving the NYPD," Elliot tells her. "And I would've flat out called 'em batshit crazy for even suggesting I'd abandon my partner without a fucking word."

He hears more than sees Olivia taking a sip of the Jameson he bought for them. The clink of glass against the porcelain tub gives it away. Points to her for maintaining her silence.

"It wasn't a conscious thought," he says. "But telling you would've been impossible. The hardest thing I would've done," he confesses. "So, I just…didn't. I told myself you'd be pissed; you'd feel betrayed but most of all you'd be hurt. And that pain would be the last thing I saw on your face," he explains. "So, I lied to myself. Said I'd give you time to get used to the idea then I'd visit, text you, set up a time to meet for coffee or a drink."

She hands him the bottle because his voice is breaking and she knows he needs it to keep going. Elliot doesn't bother with ice or a glass, drinks it straight. One shot. Then another for good measure.

"But I put it off for so long…it became easier to assume you hated me, rather than popping back up in your life and confirming it was true," he explains. "Then Kathy died."

He takes another shot and places the bottle back within her reach.

"That night, I didn't see what I thought I would, what I thought I deserved," he goes on. "It was surprise of course but…disbelief," he tells her. "And a 'where the fuck have you been' in your eyes," he says, garnering a sad smile. "But also, the tiniest bit of happiness to see me."

He counts it a win that she doesn't refute his claim or even scoff in response.

"And because I'm a shit communicator who'd rather drown myself in work instead of admitting my feelings, it took BX9 nearly killing you to get me here."

"And where's 'here'?" Olivia finally asks.

Elliot chances a look over his left shoulder. The sight of her golden tanned skin, glistening with moisture, up to her neck in bubbles is not one he can take for a long period without being tempted to join her. So, he refocuses back on the gray tiles before answering.

"A place where I confess that as much as I loved being your partner and your best friend," he starts. "I was always afraid of asking for more."

"And now?"

"Now I think about a different phone call I could've gotten from Fin," he answers. "And what that would've done to me? I don't have the words, Olivia."

"But at least you would've known," she points out. "If anything would've happened to you while you were doing private security or in Europe, who would've told me?"

"Kathy would—

"—No. She wouldn't have."

He gives her time and doesn't argue. Given that awful letter, he doesn't have the room.

"I'm here Olivia," he rasps. "I've hurt you in ways that no amount of nostalgic reminiscing or calling you 'partner' will fix," he admits, tears streaming down his face. "But I am here, for whatever you need and however long it takes to forgive me…even if you can't."

"It's not just about forgiveness, Elliot," she informs him. "As much I knew it was a mistake for it to happen, I let you be my everything…and when your everything up and leaves one day…"

He can't stop the sob that escapes from his mouth.

"You're left broken and with nothing to repair the fractured pieces…it gets pretty dark, pretty fast," she says. "So, I held on to the only thing I've ever had. Work."

"Cragen told me you gave your new partner hell but that you were moving on."

What else was he supposed to say? What did he really expect? He was the one that abandoned her without a word. Everyone else was left to pick up the slack. Prop her up. Hold her together.

Olivia ignores him and continues as if he hasn't spoken.

"Until one day you piss off the wrong sociopath…again," she says with a sad laugh. "He fixated on me," she adds, purposely leaving out the beast's name. "A sadistic serial rapist and murderer who kidnapped and held me for four days just to make sure I knew I wasn't smarter than he was, and that I was no better any of his other victims."

Elliot stands and starts pacing.

"No," he urges. "No, that can't be true because somebody would've called me," he asserts, never looking in her direction. "Somebody would've told me."

Again, Olivia continues as if he hasn't spoken. She's on autopilot. Not hearing. Not seeing.

"He kept me sleep deprived, drugged, starved and drunk to maintain my compliance as he moved me from car to car, house to house and victim to victim while committing one crime after another as the squad raced to find me."

He moved to the nearest corner, placing his palms on the walls, dropping his head against the textured paper.

"The only way I know he didn't rape me is because he wouldn't have been any way gentle about it," she advises. "He would've wanted me fighting back and remembering each violent penetration and every second I couldn't stop him," she adds. "Not docile or out of it as the pills and vodka made me."

Elliot takes slow, deep, controlled breaths in an attempt not to put his fists through a wall or anything else that would scare Olivia. Though he doubts anything he does would be a surprise.

"On the fourth day, I broke free of the bed he restrained me to and used a metal bar to try and beat him to death," she reveals. "But not before forcing me to witness the creation of more victims, not before making me one himself."

The next thing he hears is the splashing and movement of water as she stands in the tub.

"Look at me, Elliot."

"I—I can't."

"You wanted to know what happened in your absence? Now's your chance."

"Liv…please."

"You owe me this so turn around and look you fucking coward!"

Slowly, he turns but stays where he is.

"Come closer," she orders.

Elliot nods and takes the few steps to face her as she stands in the water, shivering.

"These two are from a lit Newport," Olivia tells him, pointing to her left breast. "I think it's the brand Cassidy liked. I remember how familiar it smelled."

He looks, forcing himself not to move as his fists tighten at his sides. Among the new purple and green bruises from the BX9 assault, he sees each faded scar.

"This is my old mailbox key," she advises, pointing to her right side. "And these three raised lines are where he started with a hot wire hanger," she continues. "Between the pain and the smell of my own flesh burning, I passed out. No idea how long it was between then and when I woke up in a trunk."

She reaches for a towel as she gingerly steps out of the tub, tightening it around her body.

"You need to know I don't blame you for what happened to me," Olivia says. "That I had the support to get through the physical and mental healing I needed to do in order to put my shield back on," she adds. "But these scars are not only a reminder that I'm alive and that I survived and he didn't, but also that at the end of the day…I can only depend on myself."

Elliot stares at her with red rimmed eyes, momentarily speechless.

"Forgiveness was the easy part," she rasps, stopping in the doorway of the bathroom. "That happened a long time ago," she surprises him with. "But letting you become an important part of my world again? A world that includes my sweet, special boy that could also be hurt? That's a far bigger ask, Elliot."

He follows as she leaves the bathroom, grabbing his coat and heading for the door.

"I'll uh, give you some time to get dressed," he manages. "I'll be back."

Earlier that day…

After Whelan got in with the street racers, there was nothing to do but sit back and wait on the next move. Once he and Bell got back to OC, Elliot's phone rang.

"What's up, Fin?" He asked. "Tell Phoebe I'm not interested in dating any more of her sisters."

"It's Liv," Fin said.

All joviality left Elliot's voice.

"She's alive," he immediately followed up with. "But she got greenlit by BX9 from some arrests we made a few months back," he added. "They were waiting outside her apartment last night."

"How bad?" Elliot asked.

"A shiner to her left eye, some bruised ribs," Fin answered. "She got a shot off and managed to hit one of 'em. Not much older than her kid," he explained. "She sent Noah upstate to some family but she won't back down and just let the Bronx Gang Unit handle it."

"That sounds about right," he said, smiling. "She refusing help?"

"Surprisingly not," Fin told him. "There are half a dozen cops on her detail when she's not at the precinct. Just thought you'd wanna know," he added. "Maybe you can get her to rest for at least one night."

"I'll try my best."

Present…

The first thing he does once he's outside is search her name online, something he promised himself he wouldn't do in the years after he left. The headlines have him puking in the nearest alleyway he finds.

KIDNAPPED NYPD DETECTIVE – New York Ledger, May 2013

"Where the fuck was I?" He asks himself.

Then he remembers a private detail on a yacht off the coast of Majorca for some rich asshole's spoiled brat. No cellphones allowed. The following week he remembers Kathy acting strangely. His wife knew there was no way he wouldn't have wanted to be there for her. And if he found out she kept that from him? His marriage would've been over then. Permanently.

NYPD DETECTIVE MURDERS FORMER KIDNAPPER? – New York Ledger, April 2014

Elliot knows it's bullshit so doesn't bother reading it. He's just happy the motherfucker's dead so he doesn't have to track him down and do it himself. He stays out long enough to pick up two salads, a bottle of water for her and a ginger ale for his slightly queasy stomach. Neither requires any more liquid courage.

He knocks before using the key card and finds her pajama-clad form sitting on one of the two double beds video chatting with her son.

"I'll bring you home as soon as I know it's safe, Noah," she promises. "But in the mean time I want you to keep practicing so you can show me those moves."

"I will, Mom," Noah says. "Just be careful catching the bad guys."

"Always. I love you, Noah. Good night."

"Goodnight, Mom. See you soon."

Elliot sets their food up on the small table in the little dining area as she powers down her tablet then returns it to her work satchel.

"Got a couple of salads if you're hungry," he informs her. "One Mediterranean one chicken Ceasar, lady's choice."

Olivia gets up, grabs the Mediterranean salad and bottled water then returns to her bed.

"I wasn't actually expecting you to come back."

"I said I would," he says, taking the other salad and water to his own bed, mimicking her position and sitting to face her.

The shared memory of saying he was her partner for better or worse passes over their faces like a shadow.

"I've learned to trust what people do, not what they say," she digs, opening the lid of her salad. "Especially when the two don't match."

Elliot meets her eyes but doesn't offer a response. With everything he's just learned in the last few hours, he knows she's right. Hell, his own kids can attest to the many birthdays, school functions and family meals he's either been incredibly late for or missed altogether.

"Did the hot bath help at all?" He asks, taking a forkful of his own salad.

"The whiskey probably helped more," Olivia tells him. "But thank you…for trying," she continues. "For the bath bubbles, the Epsom salts. Bringing me here. Dinner."

"Least I can do."

It's quiet between them for a few minutes while they eat. Every now and then they look at each other, as if they can't believe the other is sitting across from them. It could be 2010 when they sat in a hotel room watching a desperate young woman climb out of a box to brand her rapists. But it isn't. His hair's relocated from his scalp to his face and the shape of her shield has changed several times over as she's moved from Detective to Captain.

And the complications that exist between them have evolved from feelings two partners shouldn't have for one another to a lack of trust and a fear that it's only some nostalgic sense of attachment that has them there in the first place.

"I didn't know," he urges. "If I had—

"—It doesn't matter."

"I would've been here."

"At what expense, Elliot? Leaving another job? Upending your marriage?"

"Some things are more important."

Olivia scoffs as she stands to trash what's left of her dinner. She eyes the whiskey bottle from the open bathroom door still sitting on the tub's edge but opts to keep drinking the water. McGrath expects her at work in the morning. Hangover or not. And she cannot deal with that asshole and a splitting headache at the same damn time.

"Like you said…you were happy," she reminds him, entering the bathroom for her nightly routine. "You had your family, I made mine. You were exactly where you were supposed to be."

He's watching her use makeup remover, face wash and various creams before brushing her teeth. As if he's there every night to witness it. As if they're already more than what they used to be.

"Maybe if you'd come back sooner, I wouldn't have Noah, or moved up in rank or kept the unit running despite being on its third chief since your retirement."

"Was I…a hinderance to all of that, Liv?"

She doesn't immediately answer and it instantly makes him anxious.

"No," she tells him, climbing into bed. "But you made me feel safe," she admits, wishing she was confident enough to add, 'and loved'. "I'd gotten complacent, lulled by the routine and comfortable with Munch's unique worldview, Fin's unwavering loyalty, Cragen's fatherly advice and your…everything else."

Elliot grabs his toiletry bag and takes her place at the sink. His routine is much shorter.

"When Cragen decided to go, I promised to do something with the place," she recalls with a fond smile. "Try the whole work/life balance thing."

He's down to a pair of pajama pants as he turns out the bathroom light then climbs atop his own bed, both lying on their sides and facing one another.

"He's proud of you," Elliot tells her. "Cragen, Munch, Fin…we all are."

"Thanks," she says. "As big a headache as it is to be in charge, I found my stride being C.O. of SVU. But the truth is…I miss how things were in those early days," she admits. "Even when he yelled at us."

"Sometimes I felt like we were in high school getting called into the principal's office," he offers. "But you wanna know a secret?"

"Another one?" She asks, being cheeky.

"Yeah, not as heavy though," Elliot says. "I used to love getting in trouble with you," he confesses. "Standing together in solidarity, waiting to take our licks."

"Reminds me of Carisi and Rollins," she tells him. "Thank God I don't have them going back and forth anymore," she says. "They weren't anywhere near as bad as we were nor did they stand in solidarity as you say," she informs him. "Sonny didn't give me much trouble at all. It was Amanda who was such a handful there for a minute. There were times I didn't think she was gonna keep her shield but…she's good, Elliot. Damn good."

"Sounds like you miss her."

"I do," she admits. "But she's a professor now. Married. Two kids. Has the stable home life she didn't have growing up," she reveals. "I'm glad she found it. I'm happy for her. And she knows I'll always have a spot if she wants to come back."

"I'm jealous."

"Like you wanna come back to SVU."

"No, I don't mean that. I'm jealous of the place she has in your life," he tells her. "And angry at myself for the position I lost when I left the way I did," he says. "I don't expect to slip back in like nothing happened…I just want the chance to earn your trust again."

"Keep showing up, keep answering my calls," Olivia suggests. "Be the stubborn, relentless, dog-with-a-bone, asshole I've always known you to be," she says, making him smile. "It's how you wormed your way in the first time," she throws out. "Night, Elliot."

"Night, Liv."

They reach for the lamps on their respective nightstands and seconds later, the room as shrouded in darkness. Two hours pass before her sleep is disturbed by pained moaning coming from the other bed.

"No," he murmurs. "Don't…please."

Olivia reaches for the lamp, turns it back on.

"Elliot."

He doesn't answer but moves at the sound of her voice.

"Liv…run," he continues. "Don't…don't you touch her!

She gets up and moves the short distance to his bed.

"El," she tries. "El, wake up."

Olivia sits at his side, shaking him until his eyes pop open. His breaths are shallow and quick, his eyes are glassy and beneath the palm she has on his bare chest, she can feel his heart racing.

"Easy," she rasps. "Try to slow down your breathing.

Unexpectedly, he covers her hand with both of his.

"That's it," she coos. "We're okay."

After a few more moments Elliot's able to get his body under control. Olivia pulls her hand away as he moves to sit against the headboard.

"Sorry I woke you."

"It's okay. I've had my share of nightmares over the years," she admits. "Especially after I talk about those four days," she adds. "I'm surprised I wasn't the one screaming in my sleep."

"I think I'm good," he tells her, eyeing the digital clock on his nightstand. "You should be able to get at least another four hours."

"What about you?" She asks, returning to her own bed.

"Maybe I'll go down to the gym, run on the treadmill for a while."

"I don't see any sneakers," she points out.

"I can still hit the weights."

He gets up, preparing to leave when she stops him.

"El?"

"Yeah," he says turning to face her again.

"You wanna try…sleeping with me?" She asks, timidly. "I mean, it works for Noah when he's had a bad dream."

Elliot smiles, leaning against the hotel room door.

"I'm a big boy, Liv. An hour on the bench press and I'll be good."

"Do what you want," she tells him, turning on her side and extinguishing the lamp. "You always do," she mumbles.

Olivia expects to hear the opening and closing of the door seconds later but there is nothing but silence as he steps on bare feet towards her bed. He hesitates for a few moments before raising the cover and climbing in behind her.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

Minutes go by as he listens to her breaths even out, slow and shallow. Elliot scoots closer, puts his forehead against the back of hers, enjoying the scent of her shampoo. Then, he rests a hand on her waist. To his surprise, she pulls it further around, intertwining his fingers with hers.

"Am I hurting your ribs?"

"No."

"Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"I saw you naked."

She laughs, to his surprise.

"Feel free to return the favor someday."

A few minutes go by before he's talking again.

"I'm glad we're here together."

"Elliot?"

"Yeah, Liv?"

"Shut up and let me sleep."

"Copy that, Captain."