She was shaken up. They both were. Maybe 'shaken up' was an understatement. After the torturously long flight back, she had gone directly home. God, had she been thrilled to see the familiar face of Skylar in the driver's seat. She and Elliot had both agreed it would be best for her to stay at her apartment until his was swept and cleared. She knew, beneath the surface, it pained him. He would never say it, but his sleep had been terrible and it was all due to the fact that his bed was cold.

It felt strange, not speaking to Elliot. It wasn't that they weren't speaking, but the opportunity just wasn't there. The following Monday was the first time she had seen him since he'd dropped her off at her place. The conversation was short and sweet, but mostly professional. Casey had sensed the sudden change in atmosphere as soon as they'd both returned, but she didn't ask.

That Monday morning was a hard one.

She had walked in with her head low, pretending to keep focused on not spilling the tray of Starbucks she had come in with. It was a façade. But when her head did rise and she made the mistake of looking directly towards his office, she saw him. There he was, standing tall and proud with the phone up to his ear. His eyes met hers and for a brief second, she saw his shoulders sink. Her heart sank with them.

He missed her, she could see it.

God damnit, she missed him too.

The incredibly sparse conversation was nothing but professional and fleeting, and only in person. Elliot's security team was still trying to make sure that his phone and number weren't compromised. Beside her in the break room was the only time, and last time that he could slip a careful question asking her how she was.

By the evening, she was down in the dungeons of the building, working away furiously on the Red Light project. It felt strange to go back home, and there was no going into Elliot's apartment. Her room was too lonely and there was nowhere else to go. Instead, she chose to surround herself with work. Given that he was in charge of her job, it made it even harder.

There was no animosity between the two of them, just a terrible state of limbo. Once the dust had settled, she had assumed that he would pester her in an attempt to figure out what the hell they were doing. It never came. To her greatest surprise, her sudden invisible boundaries were respected. She wasn't even sure of what those boundaries consisted of anymore. Enough time for both of them to figure out where to go from here? Maybe.

Guilt had set in after arriving home. A crushing amount of it. She felt responsible for what had happened. He had opened up to her in Santorini, explaining why the place was so important to him. Now what? Could he even go back? Would he even want to? She knew the guilt was illogical and unnecessary, yet it wasn't showing any signs of leaving. It was there to stay and make its mark on her.

For the first time in a very long time, Olivia Benson felt meek. Her thoughts stayed mainly inward and she kept to herself. There was no dare in her movements, not many stolen glances, and absolutely no reckless behavior. She was there to do her job, nothing else.

There was one moment replaying in her mind on a loop throughout the day. Elliot's office door had been slightly opened and she could hear him on the phone. She'd thought about joining the line to listen in but she was already knee-deep in trouble, that would only worsen things. It was his Chief of International Staffing and his investigators on the other line. Elliot had tried to keep his voice down but he was loud enough for Olivia to hear him asking about the security detail in Santorini. He was boiling beneath the surface, her trained eye was the only one who could see.

"His name is Christos Ardino. I want his bank statements checked. Anything suspicious, any lump sum of money or frequent and consistent deposits checked. I don't even think I need to say that I also want him fired immediately. And I want everyone in that office, and I mean everyone looked at. Sit downs with every employee in the security detail department. Find the leaks and close them."

Her stomach had dropped as she listened. Casey had eyed her from across the aisle, trying desperately to see the pieces of the puzzle in front of her that were missing. Olivia just shook her head and returned back to her work.

When her mind resumed back to the task at hand, she'd realized she had been staring at the drafting desk for ten minutes without moving a muscle. Nothing added to the designs of the app, no notes in the margin for additive ideas. She had to admit it, her brain was fried for the night.

She glanced at her watch, realizing it was almost 7:30 at night. Usually, when working down in the Red Light room, she'd stay until the sun was no longer. Tonight was different though. She craved the feeling of her head on her pillow and the weight of a book in her hands. There was no point wasting away down here if there was no work being done.

With a deep sigh, she pushed herself off of the stool at the desk and grabbed her bag. She was the only one down there, as the design team had left for the evening. Even alone in the basement of a skyscraper, the darkness and solitude was comforting. She trudged towards the door, flipping the switch and watching as the industrial overhead lights died out one by one.

She left Santorini with nothing to show for it but a seashell and a broken heart.

"Hey, you're home," Monique turned and leaned against the cushion of the couch, facing Olivia. "I was beginning to think you didn't live here anymore."

"Har har," Olivia quipped back, hanging her coat up on the rack. Her head turned and faced the kitchen island. "Tell me that wine isn't open for a special occasion because I really need a drink or five."

"It's all ours. Grab it and bring it over," Monique smiled softly, patting the seat beside her on the couch. Olivia sighed with relief, grabbing the uncorked bottle and the nearest glass. She crashed down on the couch with a slump, mustering up enough energy to throw the other end of Monique's blanket over her legs.

She poured herself more than she should've but there wasn't much care on her end. As soon as the open bottle was safe on the coffee table, she leaned back and rested her head on Monique's shoulder. Her friend's arm wrapped around her, holding her close.

It reminded her of the nights during their childhood when that was their only comfort - each other. Strange homes where the beds were unfamiliar and they'd end up snuggled under the same blankets.

"Wanna talk about it? Or do you wanna watch the Food Network and make fun of how whipped Ina Garten's husband is?" Monique giggled in her ear, earning a small snort from Olivia in response.

Monique knew about Santorini — or at least some of it. Olivia was so damn shaken that she wasn't sure the entirety of the story had been told. "It's just so weird, y'know? I feel like I'm waiting for something and I just don't know what it is. Even if security comes back clean and things go back to normal, will they even be normal?" Olivia asked, taking a sip from her glass.

Monique's hand threaded through the dark silky hair of Olivia's bob cut. "I don't know, Liv. I wish I had the answers. But whatever it is that you feel, it's okay. You know that, right?" she cocked her head, trying to find Olivia's eyes. "Your privacy was violated, and you don't know how long for. Anyone would feel scared after that."

"Stabler is a wreck," Olivia groaned. "He isn't showing it, but he just looks at me with this sadness in his eyes, I've never seen it before." Another sip, another moment passing. "It isn't his fault."

"I know," Monique answered back, much to Olivia's surprise. "At first, I thought I would go ape-shit on him for what happened. I think you expected me to," she giggled, Olivia laughing in return. "It's not like he knew either though. I mean, as much as I don't trust the guy, he seems like he gives a shit about you more than just beyond the bedroom. Like, he cares about your job."

"He does," Olivia responded quietly, burying her head deeper against Monique's shoulder. "Even though he has just as much at stake, he's still trying just as hard to protect me as he is trying to protect his own ass."

"Which is exactly why he still has both of his kneecaps as far as I'm concerned." Monique chuckled. "Most men, especially his type, would've left you for the wolves. He's not half bad."

"Can I get that in writing?" Olivia cracked back, leaving the both of them a laughing mess. "He really isn't, Mo. I know you're weary about him because you care, but... I don't know. It feels like something has changed. Something more than I thought it would be."

"The Olivia Benson that I know doesn't usually let herself fall. But when she does, she falls hard."

"I'm not 'falling'," she retorted, her tone not even convincing to herself. She was too tired to make the lie elaborate enough to be believable. "It's just... when I saw that camera flash, Mo — I felt the world shake." she wiped away a stray tear with the blanket. "Everything sorta just flashed in front of my eyes and I realized how dangerous all of this was. I mean, if the wrong people find out? He could lose his job!"

"He's the CEO, how is that possible?" Monique asked.

"That's why they have the chairmen there. The Board is meant to make sure that everyone in a position of power is held responsible. A few wrong votes and he loses his seat at the table." she cringed. "I don't want him to lose everything he's built over this... over me." A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. There was no stopping the voice in her head, bullying her over how reckless she had been. For what? For a fucking vacation?

"What about the guy there? Christos, you said his name was? What are they gonna do about him?"

"Right now," Olivia sighed into her wine glass. "They're tearing that entire department to shreds. I overheard Stabler saying that he wants everyone in that security department under investigation. They've fired Chr— him, as far as I know." Saying his name felt dirty. It made her want to scrub her skin in scalding hot water for the millionth time since returning home. "It doesn't mean shit though. Whoever he's working for is likely here. They just need to make sure that in Santorini, it stops with him or else it's all pointless. I'm assuming they'll start tracing the people here after they've cleared the Greece HQ."

Monique could see the stress in Olivia's demeanor. Ever since she had returned home, she was a shell. Dark bags had formed under her eyes and most of her language was short and sweet. She was living in her own little caves of darkness wherever she could find them, and hell, it had only been three days. Monique was more than surprised when Olivia had hit the couch with her rather than close herself off in her bedroom for a fourth night in a row.

"Liv, it's understandable." Mo's mouth opened and closed a few times as she searched for the right thing to say. "I guess what I mean is, I can understand why this is more traumatizing than you may have thought it would be."

Olivia sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes. Don't go there, Monique. Please, she mentally begged. She knew why it was getting to her, she knew why the violation felt like so much more than that. It wasn't just about the withdrawal from Elliot and readjusting to being back in New York. It was so much more, some of which even he didn't know.

She didn't wanna go there, not now. Not when the walls inside of her mind felt like they weren't on solid ground. Monique had a point, and she made note of that, but she wanted to pretend that none of it was linked. None of it was tied to how her life had altered many years ago.

She wanted nothing of her past to be tied to an experience with Elliot. None whatsoever.

Though, it did soften her heart a little to know that her best friend understood without it needing to be said.

"I just... I'd prefer, at least for now, that he doesn't know the whole story. What he's going through right now is anger and betrayal of his people. Not to mention the lack of contact between the two of us. He thinks that I'm just nervous about the repercussions." Olivia frowned, staring down into her lap. "He doesn't need to know the rest of why I feel the way I do."

"That's understandable." Monique shrugged, taking a sip from her own wine glass. "I mean, if you eventually do decide to tell him, God knows he'll probably be overprotective. Telling him right now might only make that even worse. I know you hate being treated like a porcelain doll."

"Well, that's why you and I were always such a good team," she grinned. "Where we come from, you're not allowed to break. It toughened us up. Neither of us wanted to be treated fragile and so we always knew how to protect each other without crossing that line."

Monique laughed from deep in her stomach at the memories. Even if they were no laughing matter, they were both able to look back and reminisce with each other about how hard things were and how they'd made it through. "Yeah, I'm blanking on what your nickname was," she lied, knowing it would get a rise out of Olivia.

"Don't even start with that, Jeffries!" Olivia cracked up, setting her wine glass down so she wouldn't spill it in the laughter.

Monique feigned ignorance, "Batting Cage Benson?"

"Baseball Bat Benson!" Olivia shouted through laughter. "And don't you forget it!" As soon as their laughter died down, they were left with the chilling silence of remembering that back then, there was no laughing about it. In fact, all those years ago, they were both certain they'd never laugh again. "I just don't think I can stomach the idea of him knowing what I've done. Not yet."

"I was surprised you kept it a secret." Monique shook her head. "With how fast things were moving, I really thought you'd tell him. You told Brian, didn't you?"

"Ugh," Olivia cringed at the name. "Yeah, but Brian was different. He was a system kid too, he understood. Stabler is cut from a much different cloth than Cassidy."

"Thank God!" Monique yelled.

"Yeah well, like I said, Brian was different." she paused, anxiously fidgeting with her hands, "I know it's not like he's gonna look at me any differently. At least, I don't think he will. I think... I think it might actually make him feel more. Everything is already moving at the speed of light, I'm not sure if I should accelerate it by bearing my fucking soul to him and confessing all of my past."

Elliot knew small parts. Here and there, things that had slipped out or questions that she hadn't dodged. He knew the bare minimum about her life in Foster Care with Monique. He also knew, in some sense, that Olivia had once saved her life. Opening that can of worms was dangerous, especially now. It wasn't a bomb she was ready to try to diffuse.

"You'll tell him when you're ready," Monique whispered, wrapping her arms around Olivia and pulling her into a tight side hug. "On your own time, Liv."

Olivia closed her eyes and sunk deeper against her best friend, welcoming in the warmth that she had to offer. Despite the fact that she wanted the cold and the darkness, Monique would always be void of that. She would always be the one who convinced Olivia otherwise that she wasn't meant to hide in the shadows when her heart hurt.

She must've read the same sentence four times before realizing that it simply wasn't filtering through her mind. Her computer screen glared in her vision, God, she was exhausted. The dark circles under her eyes were enough proof of that. There wasn't enough concealer in the world to cover them either. Monday was bad, but Tuesday felt worse.

With her elbows firmly planted on her desk, she rested her head in her hands with a deep sigh. When she came in the following morning, it was eerily silent. Elliot's desk was empty from the moment she had walked in. In fact, his entire office looked untouched. Usually, she could spot his briefcase by his chair and the first cup of coffee from his morning before she'd bring in the next. But there was nothing.

Sure, he had meetings lined up for the entire day, but it was still a rather uncomfortable moment to have with herself when she saw that he hadn't even bothered settling in. The whole floor felt like a ghost town.

Casey didn't seem to notice, Olivia had mentally noted. Casey had, of course, recognized the difference in both Elliot and Olivia after their prompt return to New York. But today it seemed to be only an average Tuesday to her and nothing more. It was funny how that worked; the world kept turning for everyone else except for her.

She was busy chewing anxiously on her pencil and trying to get work done.

But dark clouds sat over her desk and Elliot's, clouds that only they could see. Every few hours, one of the security team members would be strolling through the building and made it abundantly clear that they recognized Olivia.

She had to give credit where credit was due, Elliot's security team was fiercely loyal. When they looked at her, she didn't feel embarrassment or the keen sense that they were laughing behind her back. None, actually. They looked at her with sadness, and probably even pity. But the one thing she didn't pick up from them was the idea that they saw her as disposable. In fact, she wondered if they knew how intensely protective Elliot was of her. They had guilt in their eyes as well.

We're sorry we couldn't protect you.

He's sorry he couldn't protect you.

At least that was better than being the talk of the water-cooler. Even though she felt like she'd probably deserve that, she preferred life without the judgemental stares of her colleagues. Pity was harsh but had the looks been scornful, she wasn't sure she could've taken that.

"Hey, Casey," Olivia called out quietly to the woman across from her. Casey glanced up from her screen, raising her brows in response. Olivia looked around quickly making sure that nobody was within earshot of them. "Come here."

Casey frowned in confusion for a moment, pushing herself up out of the desk chair and moving to sit on the corner of Olivia's desk.

"You were here earlier than I was today, was he in his office when you got here?" she asked, nodding her head slightly towards Elliot's office.

Casey looked up and over towards the office as well. Olivia watched as she frowned once more, as if she were trying to backtrack her memories. "Uh — I don't think so, why?"

Olivia looked up at her, concern dripping from every aspect of her expression. "He is here... right?"

Casey looked back and forth between Olivia and the empty office a few times. "I mean — he has to be. He has meetings lined up all day and if he was missing them, our phones would be ringing off the hook."

Olivia tried to feel comfort from her reasoning and logic yet it still bugged her. "Yeah, I guess," she spoke in a decompressing whisper, trying to find her inner calm. It wasn't working, she was anxious and denying it wasn't helping anyone.

"He's been kinda weird since you guys got back," Casey said carefully, monitoring Olivia's face for any sort of reaction. "Did something happen on the trip?"

Olivia's body stiffened and she didn't dare meet Casey's eyes. The moment she blinked, the memory played like a movie on the backs of her eyelids. The camera flash, the way her blood had gone cold, and even worse, how it had been the last time Elliot had touched her with love and not panic. She gulped, forcing herself back down to Earth. "There was a slight problem at HQ. Just a tech issue, it's being dealt with."

"Oh," Casey shrugged it off, suddenly deterred by the idea of caring more about the job than she was obligated to. She hoisted herself off of the corner of the desk. "Well, that probably explains why he's not around. Tuesday madness plus international issues will tie anyone up."

"Yeah," Olivia mumbled, glancing back towards Elliot's empty office. "Hey, quick question..." she paused, squirming in her chair. "Do they still keep hard copies of personnel files here?"

The beat of silence made Olivia's heart beat faster and faster. It was a strange and unwarranted conversation and the last thing she wanted was for Casey to start digging deeper than necessary. "Yeah, they're down in one of the basement offices. I think it's across from the Red Light design room.

Olivia sighed with relief, realizing that any suspicion had gone completely over Casey's head. "Oh. Uh – mind if I take the first lunch break?"

"It's all yours." Casey smiled.

There was one major perk of spending a lot of her time in various parts of the building: it rarely raised suspicion. More often than not, when someone saw her in the basement of SE, they knew her project was housed down there. Not many bat an eye when she strode through the halls.

Something good needed to come of Santorini. Something meaningful. If the memory would be clouded with the hell of the last few hours there, then she needed to know it wasn't all for naught.

If she was going to lose her job and possibly even Elliot, it couldn't be in vain. Every moment spent in the SE building since returning made her feel as if an hourglass was running out somewhere. If she was ever going to make sure that Santorini had purpose, it was now or never.

The records room. She stopped in front of the large grey door, taking a deep breath. When she looked down at the door handle and saw a regular keyhole instead of a card swipe, she thanked God. She could pick a lock, but she couldn't make up a bullshit excuse about why she was down there when they saw the records of her ID card scans.

Pulling a bobby pin from her hair, she knelt down at the handle and maneuvered it into the keyhole. Some skills were never lost, no matter how long it had been since the skill had been used. She closed her eyes, waiting to feel that unmistakable click in the lock.

The lock clicked and she felt the blood rushing to her head from relief. She glanced down both ends of the hallway before slipping into the darkness of the room. The lights came on and brought the dull room to life, illuminating the silver handles on the nearly three dozen filing cabinets.

She was invading his privacy. There had to be guilt in there somewhere, she just wasn't sure if it was worth feeling or if what she was doing would make up for it in the long run.

The first cabinet that caught her attention had red tape across the top drawer. She squinted as she walked towards it, feeling her heart begin to speed up.

'Board Personnel' was written on the card with a bold black marker.

Well, Elliot was on the Board so if she had to start somewhere, that was her best guess.

Her luck began to turn when she realized that the cabinet was unlocked. As soon as she slid the drawer open, her fingers rifled through the worn and torn manila folders. 'Stabler... Stabler... Stabler!'

It took both hands and nearly blistered her fingers to fully lift the thick and heavy file from its snug space. The pages threaded through her fingers until she reached one of the sub-folders inside of it.

Stabler, Kathleen

Her mind flashed back to the boat, and the sadness in his eyes as he spoke about his child.

"My girl... my little girl, she didn't deserve to become a pawn and I was afraid that I would unintentionally turn her into one if the divorce got any worse."

She opened to the first page in the file and a small chuckle left her lips. Paperclipped to the edge was a small, wallet-sized photo. Curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a contagious smile. She was definitely his girl. The picture was old, she couldn't have been more than eight or nine when it was taken. Olivia couldn't hold back her own smile. God, she looked so much like her father, it made her heart pound.

"Not a single day goes by that I don't wish she was by my side. Believe me. I've never missed a piano recital, a career day, a ballet performance. I pay for her to get the best education and I make sure she's got everything she needs. I'm just not the dad that's there every day and I hate it. I... I fucking hate it, Olivia."

He had taken her to Santorini, a place where he went to be closer with the people he cared most about. He had opened up to her about his fears for his child and how he had tried to protect her from himself.

Yet, here he was, risking it all for someone who wasn't Kathleen. That just wouldn't do.

She just... she had to see Kathleen's face to know that she was doing the right thing — to know that her meddling would mean something. Elliot missed his daughter, he made that very clear in Santorini. So, if all she left Santorini with was knowledge, she was going to use it.

Despite already being knee-deep in shit for her own recklessness, she couldn't sit around with what Elliot had opened up to her with and do nothing about it. Maybe her timing was bad, maybe it was as awful as timing could be, but her time felt short anyhow.

She ran her fingers over the edges of the photo, staring down at it with the threat of tears in her eyes. She was once that kid, wondering where her parent was or why they weren't involved. Only, her situation was much more grim. Kathleen's didn't need to be that way. She didn't need to stay awake at night wondering with such a young mind when her father would come home, when he would walk in the door and never leave again.

Olivia remembered when she was fourteen, fresh into the system. Her first foster home, her first night with all of her belongings in fucking trashbags. Nobody had known, but that first night, she hadn't slept. She had snuck out of bed and sat on the staircase and just prayed that her mom would walk through that door and take her home. She had stories to tell from the nights on those staircases, and she could live with the idea that it was only her. She couldn't live with the idea of it being anyone else.

Kathleen was lucky, she had a mother who loved her deeply and despite his absence, a father who loved her just as much. But he could do better, Olivia knew that. She also knew that if Elliot was going to be in her life, she couldn't sit by and watch him waste the opportunity to be a father.

And if the worst came to worst and she was forced out of her job and Elliot's life, she at least wanted to leave him with a changed heart.

Tuesday had come and gone and not a single time had she seen Elliot. It was safe to say that waking up on Wednesday was even more exhausting than the day before. It took willpower that she wasn't even aware she had to force herself out of bed and into the office. She expected things to be its normal mixture of chaos and quiet — she wasn't wrong. With Tuesday's meetings finished, Wednesday was reserved for doing all of the things that had come into action from the day previous.

Phones rang off the hooks and she wished that was enough of a distraction to calm her, but it wasn't. She had come into the office again, sighting no signs of Elliot anywhere near his desk. It was untouched, just as it had been yesterday. No tall and dark suit brooding by the window, contemplating the future of the business. No smirks and not-so-subtle glances from across the view.

When had she become this? She hated everything that Santorini had turned her into. Moping over a man who she just hadn't talked to in a few days. She was better than that, wasn't she? Stronger? More independent? God, she felt pathetic. Where was the Olivia Benson who marched on her own without the need for anyone else? Was she left behind in Santorini? Was it walking up the steps into the jet? Or was it the moment the flash went off and everything she had worked so hard for was suddenly dangling in the air?

She was snapped back into reality by the sound of Casey putting the phone back on the receiver. "Liv, that was Washburn from downstairs. He said they need your opinion on something before they finalize it."

Olivia looked down at the mountain of paperwork in front of her. "Uh – is it an emergency? I'm kinda tied up at the moment,"

Casey could see the look of overwhelm on Olivia's face. "Go ahead, I'll cover you," she smiled.

"Thank you," Olivia exhaled, giving Casey the deepest look of appreciation she could muster up. She needed to get out of there, she couldn't breathe. Not when the emptiness of Elliot's office was weighing down on her like an elephant on her chest.

Her heels tapped against the stairs as she took the long way down. She needed time to think, to breathe. She could do that better in the staircase than she could in a tightly packed elevator.

Where was Elliot? Was he avoiding her? Was he in trouble? Monday was a few lost glances and nothing since. Maybe he was angry at her. Maybe he had realized how stupid it was for the two of them to risk everything. The empty staircases provided no answers.

How had this turned into a process similar to grief? There was the sadness, and there was certainly the thought of bargaining. She wasn't sure if she had reached denial yet. Maybe this was him reaching anger. Wherever he was on the scale, she was at guilt. That voice screaming at her about how goddamn stupid she was, it wasn't letting up. It only furthered the rationale behind why he would be angry at her.

Wherever the logic was in her brain, it was asleep. Normally, she'd know that none of it was the case. He pursued her, he invited her, he signed up for this. And if that voice did have the chance to break through, the guilt would combat it with the simple declaration that she had accepted. In her mind, she was just as much to blame.

The trip down the floors ended all too soon, and she found herself once again wandering the cold corridors of the basement floor. She pushed past the doors into the design suite, noting the sight of the team working endlessly to bring the vision to life. At the very least, she had that.

"Washburn, what's up?" she asked, striding in under the bright lights that filled the room. Freddie Washburn, she pulled up the mental file she had made of him. He was smart but geeky, eccentric but not always the most thorough — not unless he needed to be.

"You left some of these drafts on my desk for the design of the homepage, but there's several of them. We're writing the code for it right now, so we need a decision on which one you want." he said, handing the papers to her.

It was amazing how easily she fell into her zone once her eyes were on her project. Like no matter what was wrong in the world, she could escape to a place where the only thing that mattered was the work that went into it all. "Go with option B. The home screen of the app designed to disguise as a news website with the access to the panic buttons at the bottom."

"Got it," he nodded, looking back over the design.

"Also, I've been bouncing around an idea in my head for a few days, maybe you can bring it to life." she started, walking over to find the notebook on her draft desk. She flipped through the pages, finding her goal. "Maybe introduce a map on the application that can show where the nearest safety volunteers are. Right now, it's set up to only show who is around when the alarm has been triggered. If we add access to it without the need to ping the alarm, users can see who may be in their area."

"Nice!" he cheered a little too enthusiastically for her mood. "Another thing we called you down for. Some of the designers were thinking that reviews can be left on the volunteers. They have to keep a certain score high enough to remain on the site, that'll help keep misuse or possible explicit intentions away. If someone connects with a volunteer, they can leave a review for other users on how the situation was handled, how the volunteer helped, and whatever else."

"I like that," she knit her eyebrows together as she flipped through the remaining pages of her notebook, double-checking to make sure she wasn't missing anything. "You have it set up so that profile pictures need to be approved and scanned with the biometric AI systems, right? To ensure that people are actually using their faces and not anything else, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered. "Because users have to be over the age of 18 to register as a volunteer, we're implementing approval via photo ID as well. That helps the AI systems match the profile pictures with an accuracy to know that they are who they say they are."

"Good job." she closed the notebook, setting it back on her desk as she started to move towards the door.

"Miss Benson?" Freddie called out. Olivia stopped, noticing the apprehension on his face as soon as she turned. "You're really good at this, you know. Have you maybe considered transferring down here to work on the app full time? I mean, I know Stabler has you running this as a sort of apprenticeship but it seems like you're more involved with this than you are upstairs."

It was the paranoia that came back first. She wanted to slap him and tell him he was out of line for assuming she was involved with anything or anyone. Though, she realized almost immediately later that he meant no harm. It was the stress of everything around her, all of it convincing her that she was exposed and under a microscope.

She stopped and let his words run through her. In short, no, she hadn't considered it. She hadn't considered anything that would change walking in every day and seeing him adjacent to her desk. She put her passion into Red Light, but she hadn't thought for a moment about it going any further than that.

She was here to climb the ladder, to jump the ranks and make her way to the top. There was a point to his statement, in some sense. She was much more likely to make it to the CFO seat from here than as an assistant.

Then came the thought that she might not walk in and see Elliot's face every day as it were. That seemed to be where this was potentially heading, right? She'd gotten too close, even just sitting next to his office, she was too close. They'd look for that soon if the scandal of Santorini came to light. They'd search up and down to find how many ties she had to Elliot. At least down in the basement, some of those ties would be cut.

Maybe burying herself into Red Light now would be better than having it all come down the line that she was right there next to him the entire time.

Maybe Washburn had a point.

Thursday had come and gone with the same anxiety as the previous days. Elliot was nowhere to be found. There was no sign of him anywhere. Nobody even seemed to be that curious either. She was starting to wonder if she had made Elliot's existence up in her head. As unreasonable as that would be, the thoughts had crossed her mind. His desk was untouched, nobody was looking for him, there had been no calls or texts.

It certainly felt like he didn't exist. She couldn't smell him on her clothes anymore and she was forgetting what it felt like when his hand skimmed her body. Maybe he had been a mirage the entire time.

By the end of the day, she was questioning her sanity. The only thing that had kept her head above water was the fact that she still had the seashell from Santorini. She knew that couldn't be fake. He had walked with her on the beach the day before their last. The sun had started to settle in the sky and they'd put off all of their plans until the next day — the day it all crashed and burned.

He'd picked up that seashell that had laid beside the crystal clear water and held it up to his ear. It was a smooth cerith shell, he told her. 'You can hear the ocean in those.' She just laughed and followed along, even though she was certain you could only hear the ocean in conch shells.

She was wondering if her mind was telling her he didn't exist in preparation for the time when he wouldn't. When she would last step foot into SE and all of this would come to a daunting end.

She had stayed late, once again, working endlessly on her project in the basement. No actual work was getting done as she would've preferred to believe. Just notes written and erased and written again in her notebook until she scrapped the paper altogether.

Pushing the notebook aside, she reached down and grabbed her purse. The shell was there, right in the safety of a small pocket in the bag. She ran her fingertips over the smoothness, admiring the swirling colors of beige and orange. On a whim, she held it up to her ear and listened for the ocean.

It was just her heartbeat in her ears. No reply from within, nothing to remind her of the sunny beach and the sand that warmed her toes. She closed her eyes, trying to listen harder. Maybe if she just tried hard enough, the universe would will it into existence for her. Her head shook to herself as she lowered her hand away from her ear. It was silly, she knew that.

She glanced around the room, an idea springing to life in her mind. There were perks to being in a design suite: there were tools everywhere.

For the first time since Monday, she felt herself smile. She pushed herself off of the chair, moving to rifle around through the many drawers and cabinets in the suite. They were constantly building 3D models down here, it wouldn't be that hard to find what she needed. All she really needed were pliers and a spare screw.

After an anxious search, she'd found what she was looking for. As she slid back into her seat, she flipped on her desk lamp and laid everything out in front of her.

Starting with a nearby pencil, she marked a small circle towards the top of the opening. She was careful with the nail, painstakingly cautious not to crack the shell with too much pressure. With steady hands, she managed to poke the nail through the surface.

She unclasped the simple silver necklace from around her neck. With the pliers in hand, she pulled away the small rings that held the pendant to the chain. She could replace the chain, it wasn't special. The previous pendant was placed into her bag, and with the pliers, she carefully fastened the small hooks into the hole of the shell.

There was no holding back the gentle smile as she stared down at the makeshift necklace in her hands. It wasn't perfect, but it didn't matter. She didn't need it to be perfect.

Packing up her belongings, she kept the necklace safe in her grasp as she locked up the design suite for the night. Instead of taking her normal turn to head out the front door, she found herself rounding towards the elevator and up to her normal floor.

It was eerily quiet up there at night, even more so than the basement. Usually, the entire floor was bustling with life, but now there were no signs of anyone. The night sky over the city was clear and visible from every window, and the lights were dim.

It had become a strange sight to see Elliot's office empty, but even stranger to see it all empty at this hour.

She strode towards the glass doors that led into his office, taking a moment to breathe as soon as she stepped inside. It still smelled like him in there, and she didn't expect her heart to hurt as soon as the scent hit her nose. Everything was just as it was when he'd left on Monday, completely undisturbed. His notes scattered on his desk surface, his blazer on the back of his chair.

"I miss you," she whispered at the sight of the empty chair. It felt so stupid. She knew he was probably upstairs in the penthouse. He was less than a few floors away and yet she had never felt further from him. "I wish I could close my eyes and see you sitting there with that stupid fire in your eyes like before," she continued.

Her steps were slow and directionless. "You could've at least told me, you know?" The back of her hand rose to her cheek, wiping away a tear. "I mean, maybe that was the whole point. Not telling me?" She asked the silence but the silence didn't answer. "I feel horrible, in case you were wondering. I feel like this is all my fault and I don't know how to fix it."

If she just closed her eyes and let the scent of him overwhelm her, it was as if he was right there. "So, if you're gonna break my heart, do it now. Please," she begged, not bothering to wipe the new tears that fell. "Do it now, while I still have a shot of being okay, because I think you're the only one who could break me." Her voice cracked in the silence, but nobody was around to hear it.

She walked over to his desk, grabbing a notepad and pen before sitting down in his chair. She set the seashell necklace aside, carefully scribbling the words along the lines of the paper.

To: Kathleen

From: Dad

'If you hold the shell to your ear, you can hear the ocean. Now, you can take the ocean wherever you go.'

She tore off the piece of paper, gingerly setting the necklace around the words in hopes he would get the idea. She wasn't sure where any of this was going, but wherever it may go, it needed to go with purpose.

She stepped back from the chair, letting go of a deep sigh as she tried to pull herself together. In a split-second decision, she grabbed the blazer of his that was hung over the back of his chair. It was the blue one, the one she loved so much. He always commanded the room when he wore that suit, more so than the rest. She held it up to her face, taking a deep inhale.

Whiskey, cologne, and just a little bit of fire. All Elliot.

Folding it over her arms, she slowly departed from the glass doors. She passed by her desk with her head hung low, aiming towards the exit. She briefly wondered what would happen if she took the private elevator up to the top. Would he answer the door? Would he kick her out? Hell, maybe he wasn't even there.

"Olivia?" a voice called out quietly, startling her beyond belief. She glanced up, spotting the confused face of Casey who had stopped dead in her tracks.

"Casey! Jesus, you scared me," she pressed her hand to her chest, trying to ease the pounding beneath her ribcage. "What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to catch her breath.

"I left my phone here. I came back to get it," the other assistant answered, slowly stepping towards Olivia with suspicion in her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh – apartment key," she lied. "I left my apartment keys on my desk. I was downstairs working for a little bit and so I... came back up." Overkill and she knew it. Even she wouldn't believe herself.

Casey slowly nodded, staring a hole into Olivia's face. "Is that Stabler's jacket?"

Olivia's jaw opened and locked as she looked up and down from the jacket and back to Casey. "Yeah. Yeah, I saw it and figured I should get it dry-cleaned. Y'know, for when he gets back." All she had to do was get through this conversation without shedding another tear and she would be in the clear.

C'mon, Olivia. You don't cry, that's not who you are. Toughen up.

"Yeah." Casey softened the slightest bit. "I heard he's been working from his home office for a few days. I guess he only told the people who needed to know... which apparently isn't us," she laughed dryly.

"Huh, yeah. Apparently not." Olivia hung her head again, feeling the familiar sting return in her eyelids.

An awkward silence fell over them for a few fleeting moments, and Casey's stare didn't waver. "Liv, what happened?" she asked, casting a sympathetic look towards her friend. "Did something happen on the trip? I mean, you can tell me. Whatever it is, I can keep it to myself."

She didn't buy that for a minute but she knew Casey meant well. She had always been fairly kind to Olivia given the high-tension circumstances. Olivia looked back up again, not bothering to fight off the sadness in her eyes. "You don't wanna know," she murmured, shaking her head. She'd hoped the silent seriousness in her expression would be enough but she knew it wouldn't.

Casey took a careful step towards her. "He didn't... hurt you. Did he?"

"God, no!" Olivia answered before Casey could practically get the words out. "Nothing like that, I swear."

She saw the exhale of relief come from Casey, feeling it in her own chest as well. She wondered for a moment what it would be like to come clean. Three people knew, well, four, and the fourth was the reason she was here in this horrible spot to begin with. Monique, Alex, and Skylar. The only people who were meant to know. Now, she wasn't sure who would know. So, she wondered - how would it feel to tell the truth before the truth was told for her?

"There uh— there was a security issue when we were there," she gulped, testing the waters of truth. "It was scary and a little traumatizing. Now, it's just a matter of... figuring out what to do."

She tried to choose her words carefully, and maybe she had already gone too far. But her heart hurt and the idea of nobody understanding why was suffocating. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to know what had happened, but somehow it was worse when nobody knew there was a problem.

"I'm so sorry," Casey whispered, as if, somehow she got it. As if somehow, she understood the pain behind Olivia's eyes. "If there's anything I can do, let me know."

Olivia stared at her for a long moment, allowing herself to feel deserving of the care - something which she struggled with quite often. "Thank you, Casey."

Climbing under the covers in a fresh pair of pajamas, Olivia exhaled. This was getting harder with each passing night. Sleep was a fight to earn. Maybe it was less to do with the fact that Elliot wasn't with her, but that she wasn't sure when he would be again. The uncertainty fueled the insomnia as if it were a renewable resource.

She rolled onto her side, clutching her pillow with one arm under it and one over it. She held Elliot's blazer between her arm and the pillow, breathing in the calming scent as if he was right there with her. Her face snuggled deeper into the rough fabric, and she tried to imagine his chest was beneath it. When had she become this person? The person who can't breathe unless they have the person they want beside them?

Little miss independent was independent no longer.

Nothing but the faint sound of car engines and her own breath filled the silence. For nearly four days, she kicked herself for agreeing to go to Santorini. None of this would be happening if she had just stayed fucking put.

Her eyes focused on the opaque curtains that covered her window. She could still see blobs of light pouring through, some red and some orange. The city that never slept. Always loud, always bright.

Elliot's bedroom windows were almost always visible. She vaguely remembered a thin, nearly transparent black shade that bunched up at the very end of the rod. He always slept with the windows openly visible. She liked that. Somehow, it made her feel on top of the goddamn world. Untouchable, but so visible.

"Do you think they can see you, Olivia?" he'd rasped, maneuvering himself to slip inside of her soaked entrance. "Do you think the city can see the outline of your body and just know that every nerve ending inside of you is on fire?"

She shuddered at the memory, still able to feel the crisp coldness of the window against her back.

"I think they can see you." he'd whispered in her ear as soon as his tongue was drawn away from her throat. "I think they're watching you getting fucked, Olivia."

Her eyes squeezed shut but she wasn't sure if she was trying to welcome the memory or banish it completely. She was painstakingly aware of how alone she was now.

Her phone caught her attention, buzzing on her bedside table. She propped herself up, squinting to adjust her eyesight for the brightness of the screen. Bright and bold across the top of the screen was a sight she was unprepared for.

'UNKNOWN NUMBER'

Her stomach dropped as soon as she saw the words pop up. It continued to buzz in her hand as she stared at it, debating on whether or not to answer. After everything that had happened, the last thing she wanted was to add more damage.

"Hello?" she exhaled as she quietly answered. She gripped the duvet cover, her knuckles turning white as she waited for an answer from the other line.

"Liv, it's me," a familiar and haunting voice rasped on the other end.

Olivia sunk back against her mattress, trying to slow her heart before it beat right out of her chest. "Christ, Elliot. You scared me."

"I know," he whispered sympathetically. The line crackled a little bit and something about the lack of clarity in his tone made her want to cry. Hell, she was already at the point where crying wasn't too far out of her reach. "I'm sorry. The security team still has my phone. I'm on a secured line right now, just until everything is cleared up. They've got me on a tight leash."

"It's okay," she whispered back, feeling hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

Neither of them really knew what to say. The moment they had walked out of the front door of the villa, neither of them knew where they stood. Everything was treading on thin ice and for all they knew, the kiss shared in the darkness of the villa could've very well been their last.

Her heart ached in her chest and just from the sound of his voice, she could tell his did too.

A moment passed and then another, and still, neither of them were sure where to go.

"I miss you," he mumbled, his voice thick with pent-up emotions that she just knew he wasn't letting out. She wanted to hold his hand and tell him it was okay, that he could cry if he needed to. Even if it sounded like parting advice. Even if it meant that their last kiss really was their last kiss.

"I miss you too," she sniffled, praying to whatever God would be merciful enough that he wouldn't be able to tell that she was holding back a sob.

She closed her eyes and imagined it was his calloused fingers wiping away the burn of her tears. In reality, it was the pillowcase beneath her soaking them up. And with her eyes still closed, she imagined he was standing in one of the tall windows in his bedroom, staring out at the city as if he could see her. As if he were searching for her.

"This will all be over soon, I promise," his voice was strained to the point where it made her throat hurt just thinking about it. Maybe he was just like her; not crying for the lack of the other person, but crying for all of it. For their jobs, for their safety, for each other.

She'd missed the sound of his voice; his real voice. Not the insincere passing of professional titles to each other, Good morning Miss Benson. She'd missed it more than she thought she did because hearing it made the dam break. Instead of being wrapped in his comforting arms, her fears lay beside her in bed. Unconstrained, ready to linger.

She sniffled once more before speaking, hoping it would clear her voice. "Um, any new leads? Anything?"

There was a long and decompressing sigh on the other line and her heart sank. "No," he said with disappointment. That's what this was, right? He'd disappointed himself, he'd disappointed her, he'd disappointed his business. "Nothing solid. The Greece HQ said that he was gone by sunrise, they can't get ahold of him. He's in the wind. I think he got the memo that his job was done when you caught him. Security pulled me from working in the office as soon as they heard he was AWOL."

Great. Fucking fantastic.

No leads meant no plugging the leaks. So much for this being over soon. She rolled over in bed, facing the other side of the wall. She couldn't stare at the window anymore, she couldn't keep hoping that she'd magically spot him from miles away.

"So, what does this mean?" she asked, burrowing herself deeper into the mattress. If she could have her way, she'd sink as far into it as it would allow and stay there forever.

"We keep looking," he answered, trying to sound at least halfway hopeful. "We hope that the security tapes are in our possession only and that any photos that may be out there are blurry enough to cause reasonable doubt. I just..." he sighed, pausing and leaving a dead silence on the other end of the line. "I don't want you to feel like this is gonna end everything. With work... with us. I won't let this change anything."

"Elliot," she whispered. Her voice would crack soon, she felt it deep in her chest. "This changes everything. We can't deny that. I don't want anything to change either, but we clearly can't pretend that we're in the clear."

"We could... we could come clean. We could talk to human resources and do what we need to do."

She huffed at his naivety. "El, the Board will vote you out and you know it. Tucker nearly got your tech branch shut down out of bribery. I won't let you gamble with your job like that, not for me."

"Liv..." he breathed. She could already see the way his eyes were scrunched together, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he did all he could to stop from breaking down. "Please, please don't say what I think you're saying."

"I'm not!" she rushed to say, to put him at ease. She didn't want him to know about her consideration of putting in for the job in the design department. Not yet at least. "I'm just saying that we have to figure out something better. Something safer. We got lazy, Elliot. We stopped caring for two seconds and we have no clue what's going to happen because of it."

"Just don't lose faith in me, please." he sounded desperate, more desperate than she had ever heard him before. "I'm begging you, let me figure this out, Olivia. Please."

She was a moment away from an unbearable sob and she knew it. The longer she listened to him breaking on the other end, the shorter her fuse became. She didn't want him to hear her like this, not now. "Good night, Elliot." she murmured, forcing herself to hold back as hard as she could. She was a ticking time bomb waiting to erupt. Please, God, please. Don't let him know how bad this hurts.

"Wait—" his voice crackled through the line again. She came to a full stop, listening to him almost inaudibly sputter on the other end. He was looking for something in his words, she could feel it. Her eyes narrowed. "I–"

He wouldn't... would he?

Then, she heard him falter. He was backing down and some part of her thanked God, because tonight wasn't the night for any of it. It wasn't time to hear those words. "Good night, Liv." They both let out a sigh, which was somehow the closest they had been in almost four days.

"Elliot..." she was the one to stop him this time.

"Yeah?" God, he sounded halfway hopeful and it broke her a little bit more.

She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. The one good thing that could come of Santorini, the one good thing that might come of her existing in his realm. If worst came to worst and it all fell down; if she could just leave one footprint in the sand for him. "Call your daughter, Elliot."