Author's Note: First of all, I am so sorry for the lack of posting. I have had horrendous writer's block and tons of stuff going on. I'm slowly but surely getting back into it. Just please bear with me - I haven't abandoned my stories. Just might take some time to get back to them.

Disclaimer: Lyrics are by Simon and Garfunkel. Characters are owned by Dick Wolf and NBC.

Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,

She can't do it anymore. Any of it. She was just so tired. The look on Pippa's face is seared into her brain, branded on her memory, a scalding hot wound that would take years to heal. Reaching for her glass of wine – was it her third, fourth…she really couldn't remember – Olivia Benson rubs her eyes as if she could wipe away the visuals of the last weeks.

Looking at the clock, she winces. It's already eight o'clock and she isn't remotely tired. She should be, her days have been long enough and since the "townhouse incident" she hasn't been sleeping much at all. Sleep had been a mere acquaintance of hers for years now – since Lewis. The night always brought too many demons so Olivia would now just stay up, until her eyelids became too heavy to stay propped open.

The wine goes down easily, almost too easily. She had justified purchasing three bottles of it because the price was so good for such delicious Cabernet. Reaching to refill her glass, Liv barely notices that she's already finished the first bottle.

But it's so good. And it keeps the nightmares at bay.

At least for a little while.

A firm knock on her down interrupts her thoughts. She practically leaps up, slightly relieved at the interruption. It was too much, the images of Hank Abraham's broken and shattered families. Liv herself had zilch sympathy for Hank, as she had told Tucker, he was an "angry prick." But she could not forget Pippa and their children. Their lives were never going to be the same.

Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping

"Who is it?" Liv asks, a little reluctant to open the door, considering that she's just in sweats and a sweatshirt. She's got no one but Noah to dress up for.

"Captain Tucker." A rough voice responds.

"Ed?" She opens the door, not really caring if he sees her like this. Somewhat fuzzily, she wonders at herself for not caring. Maybe it's the wine that's making her less self-conscious…or maybe she just doesn't care.

"Evening, Lieutenant." His eyes flicker over her, quickly noting her appearance. "Did I catch you at a bad time?"

She responds with a wry smile. "When is it ever a good time these days?"

"Point taken." He shoves his hands in his pockets because it's cold on this winter night and not just chill, an icy wind that cuts to the bone.

"What brings you around here this time of night, Ed?" She smiles tiredly, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"What, I can't just pop in?" He says, serious but with a slight smile faint on his face.

She looks at him with fond exasperation, remembering the last time they had this exchange. "No."

"If you really want me to go…" he starts to turn away.

Liv doesn't know why she stops him but she does. "No, it's okay. Come on in. Warning you, though, it's a mess. Life with a toddler, you know…" she smiles at him wryly.

"Yeah, I do know…" He says under his breath, but she doesn't hear.

As he follows her into her apartment, his eyes instantly spot the two bottles of wine on her coffee table.

"Company, Lieutenant?" He inquired, eyebrow raised.

Liv doesn't meet his eyes. "Just Noah and I."

"Noah's started drinking early." He jokes slightly to break the suddenly tense atmosphere. Something was very not right here.

Olivia hurries to put the bottles away, a slight tremor in her hands.

"Benson," he says, gently touching her shoulder. He doesn't miss her flinch but, strangely enough she doesn't seem to know that she's done it. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Liv smiles at him tightly.

"I can see that." His eyes flicker over to the empty wine glass.

"What's that supposed to mean? It's only a glass of wine." Liv finds herself unreasonable defensive.

"Benson, you're slurring your words." He says quietly, his sky blue eyes concerned.

"I don't have a problem." Liv says, slightly sullenly and more than a little resentful. There's a sudden surge of anger within her and she finds herself just getting angry. Angry at Tucker, angry at Hank, angry at herself for being so, so, stupid for getting taken by Joe. She turns away before she says something rude.

Get the hell out of my home.

"Never said you did." His voice is consolatory. And when she turns around to look at him again, there's no judgment there. His face is stone sober, no smile – but then again Tucker rarely smiles and she'd be weirded out if he did. So Liv is oddly grateful for that, one thing in her chaotic world that she can count on not to change.

And there's silence for what feels like forever.

The clock ticking is so loud in the still apartment – Noah is fast asleep and it's so quiet. Except for the clock, and her breathing.

"I'm sorry, Ed." Liv says quietly, "I'm sorry." She's not even sure what she's sorry for exactly and why she's apologizing to him.

"Shut up, Benson." Now Tucker's wearing a half-smile to take the sting out of his words. It's almost affectionate, which is rare for him. But she's been seeing it more these days and, truth be told, after the initial shock, Liv finds that she likes it – wants to see more of it.

"I haven't been sleeping." Liv says apologetically, waving at the wine glasses. "Ever since the…incident." She still doesn't like to talk about it.

"I'm not surprised." He says quietly, that note of concern still in his voice. "I'd be more surprised if you weren't still shaken." Trauma can't just be swept under the carpet, Olivia.

"I just don't want them to see me weak, you understand?" Olivia finds that her hands are shaking and she buries them into her sweatshirt.

To her shock, Tucker barked a laugh. "You're the last person anyone would call weak, Benson. If anything," and he gave her a hard but compassionate stare, "your strength might be your problem."

"What are you, a shrink now?" Benson taunted him sarcastically.

Ed Tucker remained unruffled. "Admitting you need help isn't weakness. Admitting there's a problem isn't weakness. Denying it is weak." He gave her a steady gaze. "I think you know what I'm talking about, Olivia."

Liv finds that she likes the way he says her name. So she's not as angry as she thought she would be at his implication.

"I see a psychologist." She says, trying to justify herself, trying, once again, to tell him she's just fine. "He cleared me for duty."

"Good. But that doesn't mean you're okay. You know it and I know it. You might be able to lie to yourself," he says, "but you can't lie to me."

"We may have had a few drinks together but that doesn't mean you know me." Liv says heatedly.

Tucker doesn't say anything else, simply looks at her. It's the same look on his face that he had when he expressed his empathy with Amaro. The first time she had really seen him. Before then, he had simply been a member of the "rat squad", devoid of sympathy for her squad. Although, to be fair, it's not as if they ever made his job easy.

What is this, she thinks, sympathy for the devil?

"I know trauma." He says quietly. And something in his voice tells her that he knows from personal experience. No matter how deep people try to hide pain, it always resurfaces. There is no hole deep enough that pain cannot escape. The past is never really the past.

Sometimes she dreams that Lewis is still alive. And maybe he is. Maybe he always will be.

"Really?" She says tiredly, voice torn with unshed tears. Liv went to the couch and sat down, putting her head in her hands. What does it matter anyway? He's already seen too much, what does it matter if she lets her walls down a little more... It's too tiring to keep them up.

"I always wanted to be a cop." Tucker says abruptly, sitting down besides her. He didn't reach out to touch Olivia, sensing that she was desperately trying to retain the tattered shreds of her dignity, her vulnerability. "My older brother was one, my dad was one. It's what we did. Generations of Tuckers have been cops. My older brother, Patrick, went into Narcotics. One night he and his partner of five years got caught busting a drug ring. Turned out Pat's partner had been running dope for them. He survived that night – Pat didn't."

"Oh, Ed," Liv says softly, forgetting her own pain and gripping his hand.

"It was a long time ago." He tells her. "But, yeah, I know about trauma." He wasn't ready to tell Olivia about Molly yet. One wound reopened is enough.

"I started to drink," he continues, staring straight ahead. Her hand caresses his and it almost distracts him but he manages to focus. "I was obsessed with nailing Pat's killers. Nearly cost me my job."

"Did you get them?"

He nods. "Pat's partner was tried and he's now serving 30 years to life. The justice system isn't too kind to dirty cops. Especially dirty cops who are accessories to the death of one of their own."

Tucker turns to Liv and grips her hand. "You can't go down this path, Liv. Don't do it. You have your squad, your command, your son to think about."

Liv stares at the empty wine glass and then looks back at him, smiling faintly.

"I've never heard you talk so much in your entire life."

Giving her a faint smile in return, Tucker's eyes soften and he leans back on the sofa.

"Don't worry, it probably won't happen again."

Benson leans back into the couch with a deep sigh. "Never thought I'd be saying this but thanks, Tucker."

"Not a problem." He smiles at her and there's affection in his eyes. "Come here, Olivia."

And, finally, Olivia Benson lays down her walls and leans into Ed Tucker. He smells of wet New York streets, of smoky pubs, of comfort and home. He wraps his arm around her and she lays her head on his chest.

And all is quiet and still and the demons have retreated at last.