A/N: And so it goes, this soldier knows, the battle with the heart isn't easily won. But I won. (Soldier - Ingrid Michaelson)

DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler

Nine Months Later…

"She's asleep," he whispers, slipping into the bed beside his wife. He leans over her as he pulls the blue and brown paisley quilt up, brushes her dark hair back and kisses her forehead, and closes his eyes. "You ready to go back to work?"

She rolls her eyes and says, "Of course not," and she lightly scratches his arms as they wrap around her. For a moment she stares at the light blue wall, unblinking, contemplating. She sighs and answers, "But I have to, eventually, right? Might as well be tomorrow." She closes her eyes and leans back into him. "I'm gonna miss her," she whispers, and her eyes dart to the carved wood crib in the corner. She smiles, watching the moon and stars on the mobile above it spin, and she wonders how her whole world could be wrapped up in a ten-pound bundle of baby girl.

"She'll be right downstairs in the childcare center," he kisses the back of her head. "Nothing to worry about, baby. I promised you, we won't miss a single second of our children's lives." He takes a deep breath and smiles, he loves the way she smells. He always has, but her scent became an obsession over a year ago, in Syracuse. He inhales again, his lungs fill with a blend of Ivory soap and coconut shampoo. With a soft moan, he grins and says, "You know, uh, Riley is definitely not gonna be the last Stabler baby," he chuckles and whispers, "Not by a long shot."

As she chuckles, she shimmies in his arms, purposely teasing his already hard cock with her ass. "It took three months in the gym to get this body back, ya know. Besides, I would like to wait until she's out of diapers, if we can help it." She winks to let him know she's only half-kidding. She wants a thousand babies with him and he knows it.

He laughs, but as his eyes wander around their bedroom, he spots the pictures on the walls, on the dressers, on the shelves. Moments of the last four and a half years, frozen in time, speaking louder than words ever could. One framed photo, a black and white still of the exact moment Riley was first placed in her arms, takes him by surprise. The look on her face, the tears in her eyes, and the matching expression of ecstasy on his face as he leans over his wife and child, it all stuns him. "Are you happy?" he whispers, looking away from the wall and back at her. He grinds into her, pressing his hardness against her. His hands swoop low and he palms over her flattened, tightened stomach.

"Beyond happy," she tells him. "You...you've given me everything I've ever wanted," she whispers, "Even when I fought you on it, you wouldn't let me walk away from this. God, I'm so thankful that you are a stubborn son of a bitch."

He laughs and remembers how hard he'd had to work to convince her he'd been serious about her, about this. He sighs as he recalls the way she had looked in her simple white gown when she'd promised to love, protect, defend, honor him for the rest of their lives - a promise made ten times over before the wedding and at least once a day since. He grins as his lips slip down to hers, and he slants his mouth over hers. He remembers her strength, power, determination as she'd battled to bring their child into the world; the two-month-old princess is asleep in a crib across the room and she'd been born with a stubborn streak just like her parents.

She moans as he kisses her, her body turns and she wraps her arms around him.

He pulls her tighter to him, whispering something to her that she almost can't hear, but he knows she does. He says it again, a little bit louder, as his fingers skin the straps of her tank top.

"You told me, what?" she whispers, and her eyes flutter closed as his knuckles graze her nipples. Ever since the doctor had cleared her and told her she was free to return to her normal, active lifestyle, including sex, he's been insatiable. She doesn't mind at all. "What, baby?" she whispers, and she holds her breath as he drags his thick, rough hands down her sides and smoothes them up under her top. She moves only when he tugs to get it off of her completely.

"I said," he whispers as he throws her shirt to the floor, "I told you I was the guy. I'm the guy, baby. The guy that was meant to make all your dreams come true." He winks at her and drops his head, wrapping his lips around one of her hardened nipples. He doesn't suck, he knows how sensitive and possibly sore she is, but he flicks his tongue over it as he stares into her eyes. He moves then, licking intricate patterns in her skin, dipping his tongue into her belly button. He chuckles as he pulls her flannel pants over her hips and drops soft kisses down her thighs, her legs, all the way back up. He throws her pants off to the side; where they land isn't a concern. He lowers himself with an eager lick of his lips, and then he slips his tongue through her folds.

Her head falls back into the pillow, her eyes shut, her fingers scratch into his scalp. She feels the way he slowly slides his tongue up her incredibly sensitive slit, the first time he's done this since the baby was born, and she's only just realizing how much she's missed it. "Oh, God," she whispers, her nails digging deeper into the skin at the back of his head.

He moans and growls, savoring her taste, relishing in the intimacy of this moment. He works his way out of his sweatpants as he licks, and he's brought back to the night in Syracuse. The first time he'd done this to her had been the first time he'd done this to anyone and he'd promised himself then and there that there'd be no one else. No one else would ever know her taste, he'd forever have only her flavor on his tongue. He moans again, pushes his tongue deeper into her, curling and rolling it. He grips the curves of her hips and growls as he devours her, and when he knows she's close, he backs away only enough to flick the tip of his tongue over her clit. When he feels her bucking her hips up against his working mouth, he slips back up her body. When he rises to his knees, he stares down at her.

Breathless, she looks into his eyes.

He smiles as he bends, nuzzles her nose with his as he shifts his hips and runs the tip of his dick through her folds, teasing her. "You want me?" he asks, but he knows she does. She always has and always will. "You love me?" he breathes, thrusting just enough to poke his tip into her. Another question he already has the answer to; the answer is sound asleep in the crib.

"God, yes," she says, and her hands claw their way down his back. "Just you," she moans. "Only you," her body quakes as he pushes deeper, further. "For the rest of my life." She opens her eyes and he's staring back at her with more love and desire in them than she's ever seen before, and her heart pounds against her chest.

"I want you," he whispers, and he tilts his head, his lips are still laced with the remnants of her as he brushes them over hers. "I love you," he tells her, and with one hard thrust of his hips, he's all the way in and his lips are on hers.

The world falls away like a house of cards in the wind, until all that's left is here, and now. They're lost to each other, consumed with each other. The need and desire between them are just as intense now as it always has been, but there's a depth to it that grows by the minute, fills the microscopic spaces between them. It takes their breath away and makes their matching heartbeats pound harder, faster.

They forget about the hell that the last year had brought in with it, the trials they'd had to face, hurdles they'd had to jump. They forget about Calderone, and Briscoe, DiMartino and Hillard. They forget about Porter and Barton and how they'd almost lost Cragen because of them. They forget about the pile of shit they'll be stepping in when they get to work in the morning, the mountain of paperwork waiting for them, the unforgiving caseload they'll be hit with, how they'll be expected to pretend their lives aren't irrevocably intertwined for eighteen hours. They forget it all, because all that exists is here, now, them, this heat, this love.

With a soft cry of his name, she brings her legs up and wraps them around his back, her fingertips press into his ass, she begs him for more without words. He needs him deeper, she needs him to move harder, stronger, faster, and she moans loudly when he obliges. "Elliot," she breathes, meeting him thrust for every incredible thrust. "Oh, my God," she cries softly.

He kisses her again, his tongue invades and explores and his hands hold around her back possessively and protectively. He thrusts even harder as his body curves, and against her lips he mumbles the same promises he'd made on their first morning officially together. "I don't want anyone else, I don't want anyone else to want me, ever, just you, only you," he breathes. "Fuck, you're so tight."

She moans, nuzzles into him, and she whispers something into his ear that makes him growl, spurs him into a faster and harder almost punishing pace. "Yes, Elliot, oh, God, yes," she whimpers.

"Fuck," he grits out, and he feels her tighten, feel the way her body clamps around his, and he smirks against her lips. "I love you," he whispers, and he slams one more time before she locks him inside of her. He moans and rolls his eyes at the way she cries his name, it's enough to drive him over the edge, and he cums with a growl and a grunt of her name.

She kisses him and grazes the skin of his shoulder blades with her fingertips, and she laughs when he rolls them over onto the other side of the bed. She sighs at the way he stays inside of her, finds the best way to wind himself around her, and she whispers, "I love you."

There's silence now; his fingers lace and curl in her hair, hers dance along his chest. They're turned into each other, pressed so tightly together that it's hard to tell where he ends and she begins, soft kisses and unspoken promises pass between them. Their chests rise and fall together, into each other, and a new feeling of peace overtakes them.

It comes in waves.

The lust ebbs as the comfort flows. The tides change and the two switch places. Love is the constant, the foam rising to the surface as it crests and crashes against pure, blissful reality.

And they give themselves over to sleep, breathing deeply as they fit perfectly against each other, knowing that above all, when they're together, no one else stands a chance. They'll fight with everything they have for and with each other, for their family, for this. And no matter what, they'll come out unscathed, still standing strong and unbreakable. Together, they will never fall down...like toy soldiers.

A/N: It's been a long ride. Thank you to those of you who've taken it with me.