Disclaimer: Dick Wolf and NBC owns the characters and SVU episodes. This story is mine.

A/N: Set in present day, shortly after the "Manhattan Vigil" episode. Elliot is divorced. This is my first fanfic ever. I can't stand that the show has not even mentioned Elliot, and I refuse to believe he'd be out of Olivia's life forever. Here is my take on how they reconnect. Though I chose real places in some cases, they will have fictional details, especially since I've never been to NYC!

Semper Fi

EO "The Mentor"

Skylight Diner, 402 W. 34th Street

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Don Cragen took off his reading glasses and absently set them on the table, still holding the letter in his hands. The lunchtime drone of the diner barely registered as he gazed thoughtfully at the younger man across from him, who was nervously spinning his glass of tea around in his large hands. His blue eyes finally lifted to Don's, silently imploring the older man to put him out of his misery.

"Elliot," Don finally said with a small smile, "all I can say is, it's about damn time!" As his smile widened, his booth mate relaxed and flashed a brilliant grin of his own.

"Yes, it is," Elliot said. "I just hope it's not too late. I mean, I hope she'll hear me out. I wouldn't blame her, though, if she told me to fuck off after all this time." The smile faded and Elliot ran his hand over his face as he stared down at his picked-over meal.

Don rubbed his chin, weighing his words. "I'll be honest with you, Elliot. Olivia was devastated when you left and you wouldn't return her calls or texts. She was off her game for a long time, and for a while I wondered if she'd be able to pick up the pieces. But you and I both know how strong she is, and she's better now. She's not quite the same Liv, but she's doing . . . better."

Elliot sighed. "And what if this letter sends her into another tailspin? I—I can't do that to her again. Maybe the new Liv is better off without me in her life." Elliot scowled and slumped back in his seat.

Don summoned their server and took care of the check. "You won't find out unless you give it a shot," he said, laying some bills on the table for a tip. "And I never knew you as someone to back down so easily," he challenged, his dark eyes steadily holding Elliot's gaze. "This has been a long time coming for both of you. Go after her before it is too late."

Elliot chuckled heartily. "Is that an order, sir?"

"If that's what it takes," Don laughed, particularly as he remembered how many times he considered separating his two best detectives or was nearly forced to do so by others. The intense bond between Benson and Stabler formed as soon as they were paired and quickly grew deeper. It was hard to tell where one began and the other ended; they were that close. Too close, Don was often warned. It was a connection obvious to anyone who encountered the pair, yet ironically they themselves seemed unaware of the deep bond. That or they did a damn good job of hiding their feelings. Don had been deeply saddened to lose one of his best detectives and to see Olivia limp along without her other half, but he was glad that now perhaps the two had a chance to face those buried feelings. He just hoped it wouldn't take them another 14 years to act on them.

Don came out of his reverie. "Are you going to mail the letter out today? She needed to take some time off after solving that Hector Rodriguez case. It really got to her that we couldn't bring that boy home alive to his mother. I expect her back Monday, so I imagine she'll be back in town in a day or two."

"Well, actually, Captain, I was thinking of delivering it to her apartment myself right after we leave here," Elliot said, taking the letter back from Don and slipping it into his jacket.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me 'Don'? I am no longer your captain, and you're like a son to me." As they stood up to leave, Cragen clapped his hand onto the man's broad shoulder, remembering a time he had told Olivia those very words about Elliot Stabler.

"Sorry, Cap—er, Don. Old habit." Elliot cleared his throat; his crystal blue eyes shone with unshed tears. "Thanks for doing this for me, for all you've done. You've been like a father to both of us."

Don looked at the ground, emotion rendering him momentarily speechless. When he looked up, his eyes were shining too and his voice took on a serious tone. "I think Olivia's ready to talk to you and I wish you both the best, but if you hurt her . . . ."

The two men shared a knowing look before turning to head out the door. "I won't, Don. I've hurt her enough," the younger one said quietly. "I'm going to make it up to her—if she'll let me."

As they headed their separate ways, Don called out to Elliot's retreating figure, "Good, because I may no longer be your captain, but I can still kick your ass!"

Olivia Benson's apartment

Friday evening, October 19, 2012

Olivia Benson sighed heavily as she approached her door, her emotions weighing on her as much as the luggage she dragged behind her. She had thought getting away for a few days would help take her mind off the Rodriguez case, but all it did was give her more time to think: about 1999, her first year in the Special Victims Unit; about one of her first cases; about him. It was also a stark reminder about how she had failed. Correction, how she and Elliot failed. Benson and Stabler had had one of the highest case closure rates in all of the NYPD, yet they couldn't save this boy. Olivia scoffed under her breath; she had finally found one reason to be glad Elliot was gone: He wouldn't have to deal with the failure.

As she fished for her keys, Olivia suddenly stopped short and sniffed the air. That smell . . . so familiar. Men's cologne. Her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. HIS cologne! No, it couldn't be; she had to be imagining it. She shook her head. "Get a grip, girl. It's because you were just thinking of him," she chided herself as she unlocked her door and trudged inside. Dropping her bags and coat in the entryway, she looked around her tiny apartment and sighed heavily. She wasn't sure why she expected it to look any different. She'd been gone only a few days, and it's not like she was ever home enough to make it look like she lived there. Still, she felt a profound sense of sadness settle over her.

"Nothing that a hot bath won't fix," she told herself as she grabbed the stack of mail her elderly neighbor had left on her table. She made a mental note to get her key back from Mrs. Henderson tomorrow. She started to thumb through the mail but quickly grew tired of bills, circulars, and junk mail, so she tossed the stack on her coffee table and headed to her bathroom to try to soak away her blues.

Half an hour later, she emerged from her bedroom, her fit but feminine shape wrapped in a plush blue robe and a thick white towel over her chestnut locks. After grabbing a beer from the fridge and making a mental note that she needed groceries—she always needed groceries—she plopped down on her couch and reached forward to pick up the stack of mail. Some of it had fallen onto the floor. As she bent over to pick it up, Olivia gasped and nearly dropped her beer. There on the floor was a plain white envelope with only her name on it. That's all she needed . . . all she needed to recognize the handwriting. HIS writing. Elliot's writing.

The rest of the mail on the table and the floor was quickly forgotten as her trembling hands took hold of the envelope. Almost instinctively she lifted it to her nose and breathed deeply, seeking his scent. Her eyes flew open as it hit her: It wasn't her imagination that she had smelled his cologne in the hall. There was no return address or stamp on the envelope. He had been there! Elliot Stabler had come to her apartment and hand-delivered the letter! As a million questions flooded her mind, including whether or not he had known she was out of town, Olivia knew one thing for sure: She would be asking Mrs. Henderson if she had seen him. Elliot. The man who also took her back to 1999, the year they met, the year they became partners. The year her life changed forever. The year Elliot Stabler stole her heart, only to rip it out of her 12 years later when he walked out of the 16th precinct . . . and her life. Until now.

Olivia wasn't sure how long she sat there staring at the envelope in her hands. Apparently long enough for the beer to get warm, she thought as she absently took a sip before setting the bottle back down on the coffee table. She rocked back and forth on the couch, one leg folded underneath her. She knew she should open it, but she was still in a bit of shock. And fear. Would her heart be able to take whatever the letter contained? She'd spent the last year and a half trying to put Elliot out of her mind and what was left of her heart, and all it took was a millisecond for her walls to come crashing down. What could he possibly have to say after all this time? She wasn't sure she could bear to find out, but she also knew she'd never have closure if she didn't read his letter. She needed to regroup first.

After drying her hair and changing into leggings and her favorite sweatshirt—which just happened to be an old one of Elliot's—Olivia decided she needed something stronger to drink. She grabbed a bottle of vodka and a glass and settled back down on the couch. Taking a swig warmed her on the inside, but it did nothing to stop her trembling fingers as they carefully opened the envelope. Olivia couldn't help but chuckle as she realized Elliot had handwritten the letter. She remembered the many times she fussed at him when she needed one of his file notes but couldn't read what he wrote. A sob caught in her throat at the memories of their intense partnership began to assault her. Elliot's words became blurry as tears filled her eyes. Frustrated, she wiped her nose and took a deep breath. Olivia Benson does not cry. At least, not over Elliot, not anymore. She was through crying over him, or so she thought. She dabbed a tissue to her eyes and began to read.

A/N: What will Elliot have to say? Will Olivia tell him where to go or will she let him back into her life? Maybe both! Read on to find out! I welcome your reviews! MM (MyMeloni)