Don Cragen has seen a lot in his time at the NYPD. He has seen a lot, been through a lot, and done one too many stupid things. But when it comes down to it, he knows he is a good Captain. He keeps shit together, plays the role of the bad guy when needed, and he watches out for the people below him.

    Or at least, he thought he watched out for them.

    Cragen has seen a lot but sometimes, once in a while, he'll see something that completely takes him by surprise.
   
************

    Elliot comes in on Tuesday morning with bags under his eyes. He's cranky and tired, and he yells at Olivia every three to five seconds about something pointless. She doesn't hold her tongue. Because they are both getting older and shit like this is not something she has the patience to put up with any longer. They are reaching middle age and she would like him to stop acting like a fucking four year old.

    "What? What's with you?" she asks.

    They're in the crib and he's rubbing his wrists so hard she thinks the skin will come off.

    "Elliot--"

    "It's nothing. Come on, Liv."

    She sighs and shakes her head because they've had the same conversation eighty million times over. "You didn't sleep last night?"

    "No."

    "How come?"

    He pauses. "I was busy."

    Fucking Kathy? No, Olivia has never been that much of a bitch. "Did you two have a fight?"

    "It's none of your business."

    It's none of her business but after twelve years his business is hers and hers is his. They know this, they know everything that happens to them always comes back around to affect the other. They are partners and they are extensions of each other, that is how things work.

    "We had a fight," he finally admits.

    "About what?"

    "About our marriage."

    "Oh," Olivia feels uncomfortable suddenly. "I'm sorry, El."

    "It's over," he says then. "We've been going on for a week about this and..." he shrugs, "it's done."

    It's done. Just like that, they're free.



    A week later they go to dinner after a win. Cabot, Fin, Munch, and even Cragen are there too, but after a while it's one o'clock and everyone has left. They have one more beer and talk about nothing. By the end, he's smiling like he hasn't since year one when they were light and comedic and he wasn't such a dick and she wasn't so quick to shut off her emotions.

    "Your hair looks nice long," he says when they are on their way out.

    She looks at him kind of funny. "Thank you. I didn't know you had a preference either way."

    "I don't. I mean... you look good with it short too, but..." he trails off and she feels the laughter bubbling.

    "It was easier when it was short."

    "Oh."

    "But I'm not gonna cut it again."

    Elliot smiles at this and holds the door open for her. "That's good. I'm glad."

************

    They smile at each other more at work and they talk more. It's not even talking, really, because they don't need to talk to work out all their issues. But they do end up spending more time together, more all night stakeouts and hours in the balcony reviewing cases. Cragen watches and observes and thinks they are becoming the same exact person.

    Before it was always Elliot's family that separated him from Olivia. Because he always had someone to go home to, he always had someone to sleep next to at night. But now, as Cragen watches them connect even more until they level and the playing field becomes even. They both get lost in their cases and lost in each other and Cragen is startled, surprised, proved wrong by this sudden turn in his two best detectives' relationship.

    He admits, at the end of the day, that he hasn't yet seen it all.

************

    About two weeks later, they sleep together. Elliot is surprised, Olivia is surprised, but they try to keep the tension regarding this new development to a minimum.

    "So..." Elliot fumbles with his words, very aware of how his dick is pressed up against her butt after they've fucked. "This..."

    Olivia doesn't say anything for a while. Then she rolls over to face him, looking calm and serene and it helps him to breathe. "I should interview Williams tomorrow. I think he'll respond better to me."

    He thinks on it. "Okay. I'll be outside, though, if you need help."

    "I'll be fine, Elliot."

    "I'm sure you will. But I'm still gonna be there."


    That is the difference lately, she thinks, that he is there.


    They work more efficiently and Olivia goes home less tired at night. And they still argue, but he always makes sure they're on the same page at the end of the day. He is more agreeable, she is more agreeable, and they realize that after twelve years they just needed to be close like this to let all the tension fade away.


    She always reads. Elliot's noticed this. After they've gone back to her apartment and made their half-assed dinner and had their beer and wine, she always picks up a book. And reads. They're not cheesy romance novels, either, they're books with more meat-- old Steven King novels, collections of short stories, Michael Crichton and John Grisham. Elliot is surprised but not surprised. Because she has always been so much substance and so little whimsy.

    He watches the game while she reads. They don't have to talk. She can sit on one end of the couch and he on the other and he's happier than he's ever been in his whole life. His kids notice. They say, "Hey Dad, why're you in such a good mood?"

    Well kids, because I've been fucking my partner for the past two weeks.

    Elliot tells them he's been really working on leaving the job at the precinct and they believe it. They love him more, he thinks, now that he's happy dad and his brow is not always furrowed because Kathy is on his ass about something. They love him more because he is settled now and able to love THEM more.


    Elliot loves when Olivia falls asleep reading. Her head will tilt, come to rest softly on the off-white couch in her living room, and she is perfect. Then he can pull her into his arms and lie down on the couch, stretched out with her resting on his chest and life is good this way. They don't say I love you but she lets herself need him and hold him and that's enough.

    Sometimes they drink together. Sometimes they don't drink and that's good, too. The sex is grade A and Olivia really loves how she doesn't have to worry about birth control. They are both at the point where a baby would be more than okay. More than okay because after twelve years she is ready to walk away from the job.

************

    Two months after the divorce is final, Cragen starts noticing Elliot and Olivia are too close. Not in the psychological way like before, but in the way that he's touching her back all the time and they go home together every day and she doesn't hide her emotion for him anymore. He senses one of them is going to ask to transfer soon, maybe both of them, but he waits to let them figure out what to say first. This is a delicate subject, them fucking, and Cragen thinks they must chose their words carefully. He gives them space to think it over.

    They are too close and Cragen thinks it's about time already.

************

    "What if I can't get pregnant?" she asks one day.

    "What?"

    "El, I'm 44. You know my chances are--"

    "Your chances are fine."

    She looks at him, cocks her head to one side. "Why? Because you have super sperm?"

    He laughs. "The kid'll come when he's ready, Liv."

    "Who says it's going to be a he?"


    She wants a girl. Elliot knows this, but he kind of hopes that when she gets pregnant, it'll be a boy. Because then it would be even, three and three, and he shakes his head at the amount of children he has populated the world with.


   
    Olivia cries on the next case. The child they are trying to find dies moments before they get there and she just breaks, shatters. She has never openly cried like this, in front of him and the guys, and at that moment Elliot knows it's done. She's done with this job and it's too much these days.

    "One more case," he begs her. "I need to get used to the idea of not working with you every day."

    "You'll be fine, El."

    No, he most definitely won't be. "One more case. Please, Liv?"

    He kisses her cheek, moving his hands to her shoulders, and eventually lower. This always leads to the same thing. And after they fuck she rolls over, tracing his chest in tired circles. "One more case," she says. And then she falls asleep in his arms.


    The next day they go to work and start chasing leads on the one-more-case when they get distracted. They are in an office building, just casually interviewing a witness when it all happens-- the man with the bomb strapped to his chest.

    They get so fucking distracted by this man, this man who claims he has the whole building rigged. He explains his motives, why he's so angry at the world and at everyone in this office building, but Elliot and Olivia know it doesn't really matter. These things don't have reasons, they don't have causes or a start and end. They happen because some people are just too sad and angry for the world to keep them around.

    Things move quickly and there is some panic, but they are efficient. Elliot has enough sense to call the entire NYPD. Officers surround the building and soon it's a major national crisis and the whole world's watching. Because there are 120 people in the office building and that is a lot of lives on the line. That is a lot of lives. But Elliot and Olivia don't feel heavy. This is what they do, and they are nothing but professional and focused.

    Eventually they get the man to let the building evacuate, 100 people freed and then it's just them and 18 others in a small ass room on the third floor. They are all sitting together and Elliot's trying to think of ways to talk the man down when she speaks.

    "I really want a girl," she says, "but I'd be happy with a boy, too."

    "Yeah?"

    She smiles. "Yeah."

    "You sure?"

    "I'm sure, El."

    "What're we gonna name it?"

    She pauses, thinks. "If it's a girl... Lucy. If it's a boy..."

    "What about Jacob?"

    "How about Gabe?"

    "Okay."

    He takes her hand and tries to smile because he knows what they are about to have to do. They are police officers, they are detectives. This has been their life and their blood, sweat, and tears.

    They start in on their suicide bomber, then. Olivia is great, she is brilliant, because she really understands pain like that. Elliot marvels at her, how empathetic she is and understanding and he realizes he should probably marry her or something.

    "Do you know how many people would pay millions to get us out of this?" she asks. "A lot. Because I'm a Detective, Sam. And he," she points to Elliot, "is about to be a sergeant."

    "Yeah?"

    "Yeah."

    The room sits with that for a while and finally Sam-the-bomber agrees to let the rest of the people go. Then it's just them, the bomber, and his bombs, and Elliot wonders when the sharpshooters are going to blow his brains out all over this nice office.

    But the sharpshooters never shoot and Sam never backs down. He has been set on this, he explains, for so long that it would be impossible not to die today.

    "You can feel it, you know?" he says with a smile. "I think people can tell when it's their day to die."

    Elliot feels his throat close up because he could not tell. He didn't feel any different. All he felt was Olivia and how she smelled and how she looked and how much he cared about her.

    "Please," Olivia's voice is low. "Please, don't do this."

    Sam kind of sighs then. "You have to understand, I'm just so tired. Sorry Detective Olivia."

    Then he yanks a wire and they have seconds. Only seconds.

    Elliot reaches for her, pulls her into a hug. "I love you," he says.

    "I love you," she whispers back.

   
    And then it's done.

************

    Cragen can still hear the sound of the blast as he sits in a conference the next day. He can smell the fire, the smoke, the burn. He can see the black char of what used to be a building and he can feel the loss. It hurts, it smolders. It's a permanent ache, a stench of death he will have to live with every day for the rest of his life.

    "Captain Cragen?" The police commissioner summons his attention. "Are you alright?"

    Cragen doesn't say anything, just looks into nothing.

    "You should be proud. Your people saved dozens of lives."

    Cragen hears this but it can never sink in. Because these were his people, Olivia and Elliot were his people and it should've been him in there, not them. They needed more time and Marge is dead and he could've done that for them. Cragen hates the NYPD. He fucking hates the whole system.

    So the next day he puts in his papers for retirement. Then he goes home, pours himself a glass of whiskey over ice, and sits back to watch the rest of the world fade away.