A/N: I was making a video for my grandparent's 60th anniversary, which made me listen to Frank Sinatra's "All the Way," which made me think of Tuckson [and cry], which made me write this fic…
I'm working out some rust, so forgive me if this isn't fantabulous. My muse has suffered in the wake of Chasing Time—uh, Theo…
##
Ed swirled the tumbler in his left hand, oddly soothed by the clink of the ice in the glass as he thumbed through the box of records on the counter in front of him. Seeing a certain album cover, he paused and a soft smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he fingered the worn corners of the jacket.
With a sigh, he brought the glass to his lips, his head turning to the door mid-sip as a series of soft knocks disturbed the heavy silence of his apartment. Ed winced as he gulped down the larger-than-normal swallow of his Manhattan; it was not his usual drink—more his father's—the vermouth providing a bite beyond the familiar burn of his bourbon.
The knocks came again, a little louder this time, and he muttered an exasperated "yeah, yeah, I'm comin'," hastily making his way toward the door. When he opened it, the sight before him rendered him speechless.
It was Olivia, dressed casually in torn jeans and one of his old John Jay sweatshirts, holding tightly to a conked out, pajama clad Noah. Seeing the look of stunned surprise on his face, she started backpedaling immediately. "If you want us to go, we will," she said softly, trying not to disturb the sleeping toddler in her arms. "I know you said you were fine, I just… didn't want you to be alone tonight," she offered shyly.
Coming out of his trance, Ed shook his head, opening the door wider and stepping side to let them in, closing the door behind them. His hand rested on her upper arm and he leaned in, pressing his lips to her temple in greeting. "You're always welcome here," he whispered. "Both of you." Running a gentle hand down Noah's back, he cocked his head toward the hallway, "Guest room's still set up for him."
She gently tossed her purse into the corner of his entry way before extending her now free hand to him, squeezing his gently. "I'll be right back, okay?"
Ed nodded, giving her a small smile before watching her walk away. Then, lighter than before, the ache in his chest already somewhat soothed if only by her mere presence, he made his way back toward the counter to resume his earlier spot.
Down the hall, Olivia laid Noah gently on the bed, carefully covering him with a blanket and making sure Jack, his beloved stuffed elephant (and a gift from Ed), was nearby before she smoothed his hair back from his forehead and gently touched her lips to the warm skin there.
She had been getting Noah ready for bed when she finally stopped and gave in to the urge to see Ed that had been nagging at her all day. On the phone with him a little while ago, he'd insisted he was fine and asked her to kiss Noah for him, but she knew she wouldn't be able to relax unless she saw him. When she explained to Noah the abrupt shift in their nighttime routine, he had as she predicted, been excited to see Ed but also as she predicted, he had fallen asleep against her on the short cab ride between their apartments.
Noah stirred slightly as she pulled away, his eyes opening to mere slits. "Mommy?" he muttered sleepily.
Running her hand over the top of his head, she shushed him quietly. "It's okay, sweet boy," she whispered. "Go back to sleep." She smiled as he nestled deeper into the pillow, his arms tightening around Jack, and lingered beside him, caressing his face with a feather light touch as she lulled him back to sleep. Once she was satisfied that he was sufficiently out, she carefully backed out of the room and closed the door over.
Making her way down the hall, she found Ed sitting at the counter and stopped next to him, rubbing her hand soothingly across his upper back. "Hey," she said softly.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer until she was pressed against his side. "Hey."
"What's all this?" she asked, taking inventory of the records strewn about his countertop.
Ed sighed, pulling a record out—Crosby—and turning it over to read the track listing. "Dad's old record collection."
Olivia's eyebrows shot up. "Wow," she marveled. "It's impressive."
Ed grinned, nodding proudly as he eyed her sideways. "Growin' up, all my friends dads had these massive baseball card collections. Kept 'em in protective cases, behind glass, the whole nine," he explained. "My dad, on the other hand," he turned to look at her fully, feeling her hand gently massage the skin on the back of his neck as she listened, "he collected records." Putting the Crosby one back, he absently picked up another, Louis Armstrong, turning it over in his hands as his demeanor noticeably shifted, prideful smile giving way to a more somber disposition. "This was what we bonded over," he shrugged.
"I'm so sorry, Ed," Olivia whispered tearfully, leaning over and pressing her lips firmly to the top of his head. She understood all too well how hard it was to lose a parent, but Ed and his father had been incredibly close—two peas in a pod, his father had proudly told her at a Tucker family get-together not long after their relationship had been outed. "How's your mom holding up?"
Relishing in her closeness, Ed held her tight against him for a moment before answering. "Today was rough," he admitted with a sigh. "Makin' all the arrangements and everything." Ed turned on the stool, pulling Olivia into the V of his open legs. His eyes took her in for a moment before narrowing slightly as the events of the day played through his memory. "It's like she wouldn't let herself really acknowledge he was gone, ya know? Not until today."
Olivia lifted a hand to cup his cheek and he leaned into her comforting touch. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you," she said earnestly.
"S'alright," he shook his head. He reached up to grip her forearm, lowering his lips to the inside of her wrist. "You'll be at the service."
She caressed the sensitive skin of his ear and nodded, whispering of course as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into her chest.
Ed's arms enveloped her waist, and she rubbed his back when he took a deep, shuddering breath against her, nestling himself even further into her hold. Listening to the steady thump of her heart beneath his ear, the subtle lingering scent of her overwhelming him, he felt more at peace in that moment than he had the last two days and found himself silently thanking—not for the first time—whatever force it was that led her back to him weeks ago.
##
She had made it three weeks.
And then, as Barba watched her swirl a glass of bourbon on the rocks after a case that seemed to hit her unusually hard, he eyed the tumbler, knowing it was Ed's drink, and in his own soft-yet-perfunctory way, asked her what happened.
Her hand stilled and she looked down into the amber liquid, as if by some miracle the answer to his question lay within the melting ice, and huffed a dry, humorless laugh as realization engulfed her like an avalanche. It was almost pitiful, looking back now, how such a simple question had so easily unraveled their whole breakup.
She didn't know.
She knew what had been said; could play back the memory of him walking out of her apartment that night, the sharp sound of the door shutting acting as the gust of wind that decimated her heart of cards.
But, what happened? She had no idea. They had been happy. She had been happy.
So, it was then, three weeks after they'd said goodbye—two weeks after she'd had to explain to Noah that wouldn't be seeing much of Tucker anymore—that she realized: as much as she'd felt like she'd turned a corner with her relationship with Ed and was finally allowing herself to let someone in, she hadn't. Not really. Not at all.
Olivia had been so focused, pushing herself so hard to be the perfect Lieutenant, the perfect mom, and the perfect mate. Buckling under the pressure, she'd missed what Ed had been trying to show her all along.
The only one who had been expecting perfection from her was, her.
Ed didn't need her to be perfect. He didn't need her constant undivided attention. He needed to be there—with her. For her.
He wanted to love her.
And she'd told him, essentially, that she didn't have the time.
Words and phrases had flitted across her mind then; things Cragen and Munch had told her, things she'd said to her own detectives.
Balance.
Talk to someone you love.
Don't make this job your whole life.
Take care of yourself.
Noah was a big part of achieving that, but he wasn't all of it. Not when memories of Saturdays in the park with he and Ed, or cuddling on the couch watching Despicable Me for what had to be the thousandth time flooded her mind, reminding her of times in the not so distant past when, outside the job, she had felt really and truly fulfilled. Complete.
She'd made a hasty exit from the bar, leaving a bewildered Barba nursing a scotch as she headed straight for Ed's apartment.
Now, holding him in her arms weeks into this new incarnation of their relationship, she could only vaguely remember what she'd said when she ended up at his door right that night. It didn't matter now. What mattered was that she was finally letting go of her reservations—letting go of her own rope, so to speak.
The result was a connection even deeper than the one they'd cultivated in the beginning, strengthened in the face of challenges that not only threatened, but did briefly tear them apart. She felt wide open to him now, and she knew he felt the same.
She could feel it in the way he wasn't hiding his grief from her; instead choosing to share, to let her in and allow her to hold him up and be his strength, just as he'd done for her so many times.
##
"Do you even have a turntable to play those on?"
"Of course," Ed said incredulously. "It was, uh—it was a wedding present from him, years ago," he shared, scratching nervously at the back of his head. "But my ex… I guess she just didn't appreciate the classics on the same level," he smirked.
Ed pushed her away slightly so he could stand, then turned and flicked purposefully through the jackets before finding the one he wanted.
"What are you doing?" Olivia asked, following him with her eyes as he darted toward the entertainment unit in his apartment.
"Patience," Ed teased her over his shoulder as he carefully lowered the record and placed the needle. The first notes came through the speaker and Ed extended a hand out to her. "Dance with me," he shrugged.
Olivia smiled shyly but didn't hesitate, taking his hand and letting him pull her into his embrace. She looped her left hand under his arm, holding his shoulder from behind as his free hand landed at her waist, pulling her close until barely a breath of air was left between them, her right hand absently stroking the short hairs at the nape of his neck.
Ed kissed her forehead before adjusting so they were cheek to cheek, his mouth close enough that she could feel his warm breath hit her ear. In the gravelly whisper that was so patently him, he said, "Ya know, sometimes I wondered what my parents saw in each other." Olivia couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. "No, seriously," he continued, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. "They were at each other's throats so much when we were growin' up, I couldn't believe they stayed together."
"Every relationship is different," Olivia reminded him meaningfully, kissing his shoulder and listening to the music from the speakers, closing her eyes and savoring the cracks and pops that were mainstays when listening to vinyl.
"True," he conceded. They were silent for a few long seconds, swaying in place in his living room until Ed spoke again. "No matter how bad things got with them, every night after dinner," he was speaking almost directly in her ear but his voice was so soft she had to strain to hear it. She pressed closer to him unconsciously and wondered if that hadn't been his point all along. "They banished us kids from the kitchen and my did would throw on one of those records, and they'd dance around like they didn't have a care in the world."
Olivia lifted her hand from his shoulder to quickly swipe at the tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes. "That's sweet," she said thickly.
Ed hummed in agreement, lowering his lips to the skin of her neck just below her ear, holding her tighter when the gesture seemed to make her melt into him. "This was one of their favorites," Ed admitted softly.
Olivia closed her eyes, getting swallowed into his embrace, images of what it must have looked like, a young Ed crouching in the doorway with his sisters as their parents glided across the kitchen, filling her mind. She felt him begin to hum along before she heard him, the vibrations against her body making her breath catch, and she squeezed him tighter to her.
"Who knows where the road will lead us, only a fool would say," Ed sang along, his voice just barely above a whisper, his warm breath tickling her ear and causing a torrent of goose bumps to ignite all over her body, "but if you let me love you, it's for sure I'm gonna love you, all the way…"
She squeezed her eyes shut tighter as the lyrics washed over her, and she turned her face into his neck, pressing a kiss to his heated skin, knowing he'd more than likely feel the wetness of her tears.
He continued to hum along into her ear, clasping his hands together at the small of her back and using them to ensure there was not a millimeter space between them as they moved—just barely—as the song hit its crescendo. When it ended, and the cracks and pops were the only sounds interrupting the quiet of his living room, Ed lifted his head so his lips met her forehead right at her hairline.
Olivia opened her eyes and pulled back to meet his gaze, soft brown eyes connecting instantly with his blue. He brought his hands up from the small of her back to cradle her face, this thumb tracing the outline of her lips and finding that freckle on her upper lip, the one she knew he loved to pay extra attention to—his freckle, as he called it. Shifting his stare from her eyes to her mouth and back again, he whispered, "I'm really glad you're here."
She tried to blink away the excess moisture that she could feel pooling in her eyes, knowing his words had two meanings, and she brought her hands up to grip his forearms as he continued to cup her face.
"I can't imagine being anywhere else."
##
I can haz reviewz?