The story behind this two-shot is that I could never quite square the sequence of events in Truce with OMB's phone call in Forty-One Witnesses. Obviously, the caller was not a squad member and 2.0 continuity meant it wasn't someone completely out of the blue and the #Tuckson track had already been laid…but I don't think OMB's tone was of someone who had necessarily been laid by Tucker. The #Tuckson progression will probably forever remain a mystery, but here's another take. This one takes place during A Misunderstanding and Forty-One Witnesses, and the next one will be pre-Collateral Damages.

….

The expression on Dr. Lindstrom's face did not indicate complete confidence in Olivia's final plea, but he signed off nevertheless, she smiled, thanked him, and quickly sent text messages to both Dodds. The final hurdle had been cleared. Tomorrow morning, the Lieutenant would be back in her office.

She and Mike exchanged a few workaday messages, and just when she was shoving her phone back in her jacket pocket, it vibrated again, a little too quickly for the message to be another reply from her Sergeant.

The name "Ed Tucker" on the screen stopped her in her tracks, and an unfamiliar, overwhelming feeling caused her to briefly divert her eyes away from the phone. The street traffic—both pedestrian and automobile—was non-existent. The bright sunlight and blue sky were partially obscured by the brownstones, and Olivia shivered. The last time she'd seen Tucker was at the hospital a week ago. He'd offered to drive her home, but she went with Carisi and Dodds instead. Once inside the apartment and insisting she was fine, she shooed the two men and Lucy away and spent the rest of the night focused on Noah with the lights dimmed low, hoping he wouldn't notice or be too alarmed by her injuries.

That night, later on, Tucker called to check in, just to make sure she was okay, he didn't say "alone," but Olivia could tell he was concerned. But the consideration for her and Noah's well-being was not uttered in a doubtful way. Tucker wasn't questioning her ability to care for her son or for herself. He spoke as part friend and part former hostage negotiator, and his voice was soothing, comforting, and very much appreciated. When she finally laid her head on her pillow and closed her eyes, she did so expecting nightmares and another near-sleepless night.

But that didn't happen.

The next morning, she left Noah in Lucy's care and went straight to Internal Affairs where Sergeant Draper and another investigator Olivia had never met took her statement. She was recorded, but the interview, clearly pro forma, lasted only a few minutes and she returned directly home and gave Lucy the week off, knowing she wouldn't be allowed near the precinct any earlier. A day later, Tucker called her to relay the news. The call began as boilerplate as they come.

"Benson, it's Tucker," he barked into the phone, "Just wanted to let you know IAB isn't pursuing any further action related to, uh, the incident."

"As expected. Thank you."

They both breathed into their respective mouthpieces for a few awkward seconds. Neither she nor he wanted to end the call but they were both apprehensive about how to prolong it. Since giving her a heads up and practically forcing her to take the Lieutenant's exam, Tucker had become a reliable ally, confidant, and, yes, a friend. Occasionally meeting for coffee or drinks, always under the guise of police business, they discovered they had many shared experiences, challenges, and job-related heartaches. Olivia was pleased to find out that there was more to Ed Tucker than the contentious, one-dimensional IAB menace. She allowed him to see her sharp, smart sense of humor, and his dry humor induced multiple rounds of laughter-not the reserved, shy, restrained Olivia Benson laugh. It was the one where her shoulders shook and her eyes glazed over with jubilant tears, the laugh she typically wasn't comfortable using unless there was no one watching. It stunned him the first time he heard it. Most importantly though, he talked to her like an equal, and she seemed to let go of past grudges. They came to an unspoken agreement. This was a fresh start.

When he got the call that January afternoon, he instinctively knew what happened. He'd negotiated with men like this before. Desperate. Erratic. Embarrassingly indecisive for someone who had gotten himself into a life-and-death situation.

He seamlessly fell back into the negotiator role with one exception.

If everyone else hadn't been one-hundred percent focused on getting Lieutenant Benson out of there alive, they would have certainly, at some point, picked up on Tucker's torment. Or his desperation to resolve the situation peacefully. Or his attempt to retain control even after ESU took over. Never one to fall back on religion, he even sent up a silent prayer at the first sight of the quartet emerging from the garden level door. Children's lives were at stake as well, but he only saw the gun pointed at the back of Olivia's head. It was only the release of the children that distracted him, gave him something else to do, but then he fixated his thoughts and his gaze right back on her, wondering what she was thinking, knowing Joe's life was nearing its end and hoping he wasn't taking Olivia Benson with him.

Carisi nearly beat him to her after the sniper shot ended Utley's life. He and the younger man reached the Lieutenant in only a few strides, but Tucker got there first and held her close, one hand on her wrist the other around her waist, he felt the empty holster, her toned abdomen, and he didn't want to let her go. It was the closest their bodies had ever been. Though overcome by gratitude that her life had been spared, he was terribly disappointed when he had to let her go.

On the verge of feeling that vacant, hollow pit in his gut again, he broke the silence and invited her for lunch, then, thinking he'd overshot a little, added, "or coffee."

Citing the babysitter's class schedule, she agreed to coffee.

There was no avoiding the incident, as he called it, and neither one of them attempted to do so. Seeing it as mostly a burden, Olivia lamented taking the required time off and insisted she was fine, but, on the bright side, she was intent on spending every moment with her son. Hearing this heartfelt admission, Ed apologized for wresting part of her day away from Noah, but she merely offered a sweet smile.

"It was good to get out and do something normal. Thank you."

"Happy to help," he replied with a smirk. "Lemme know if they try to jam you up about going back. I don't know what I can do, but, let me know anyway."

The smile lingered on her lips as they said their goodbyes. For a while, Tucker left her alone, let her spend her uninterrupted time with Noah. Olivia assumed the lack of contact was him courteously giving her space; however, she came to that conclusion while simultaneously realizing she missed him.

So, now, a week later, when she saw his name she became giddy and subsequently shocked by the giddiness. The shock turned into nervousness. The nervousness turned into indecision even though she knew exactly what she wanted.

She wanted to see him.

Perhaps to make up for the previous decision to opt for coffee, she suggested a drink this time and chose a bar they both knew well. To her relief, Tucker went about the conversation normally and neither treated her as a victim nor spoke tentatively; he didn't regard her as someone irrevocably damaged. Olivia did not let on where she'd just been, only revealing she was returning to work in a good frame of mind, an admission which was only partially true. As they spoke, fleeting instances of gloom clouded her brown eyes; the thought of leaving Noah pained her.

Sensing sadness, he switched to more mundane topics. "So, uh, back at it tomorrow. How's Dodds settling in?"

"It's going to take some time."

"Yeah."

They walked the final blocks to her building in relative silence, but the rush hour traffic hindered deep conversation. Before she went inside, he dared to pull her in for a hug. He intended it to be innocent and quick, but she prolonged the embrace, wrapping her arms around his shoulders tightly. Strands of brown hair whipped his face.

"Thank you again," she whispered.

"You're welcome," he responded, unsure whether she was talking about the negotiation or the coffee or something else. "You and Noah enjoy yourselves."

"We will."

...

The strangest thing happened in the rare instances of downtime on Friday and Saturday when Benson and the squad tackled their first major case of the year. While the squad and Barba waded through the murky details of the Roberts case, Benson found her thoughts drifting to Tucker, to the hug they shared, to his arm around her after they'd taken out Utley, to the subsequent moments when he told her to take care of herself first, and walked her to the car trying to calm both their nerves by repeating "it's all over" in the softest voice she'd ever heard him use.

Meanwhile, she was embroiled in the investigation of rape allegations against eighteen-year-old high school senior Chris Roberts. Whatever happened in the school darkroom was far from cut and dry. Rita Calhoun, who had last dealt with SVU as Carl Rudnick's counsel, had reversed roles and was representing the victim, but that wasn't the most perplexing aspect of the lawyer's presence. When Barba muttered "your friend Calhoun," a sudden surge of anxiety burned at the back of Benson's throat.

"My friend," she sighed sardonically.

Like a teenager she wondered how Rita would react if she knew Olivia and Tucker were...getting close.

No. Not getting close. It's nothing. He's just being nice.

…

While late January and early February proved victorious for Barba and the Special Victims Unit, Benson resuming her command and two tough cases made it difficult for her to think about Ed Tucker. They exchanged a few texts, but he seemed to have the worst possible timing, suggesting coffee or drinks when she was either just getting home or exhausted or tangled in the intricacies of the investigations.

By the time the jury returned three guilty verdicts in the Libby Parker case, Olivia was exhausted. In an effort to outwardly prove she was fine, she went into overdrive at work and at home. Her Crown Vic wore a path between the precinct and her apartment, and she made a mental note to add a sizable bonus to Lucy's pay—not only was the young woman willing and able to accommodate her unpredictable schedule, she did so with her typical good humor. The other person in her life who, perhaps, was worthy of some form of compensation was Tucker—she scrolled through their texts. His were kind and genial. Hers were terse and polite. Rolling her eyes at herself, she poured a glass of wine and hit the telephone icon on the screen. He deserved to hear her voice, and she wanted to hear his.

"Olivia." If he was trying to hide that he was elated to hear from her, he did not do a very good job of concealment.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. Saw on the news ya got the guilties. And also saw it was a, uh, unconventional conclusion."

Olivia let out a slight chuckle, "Yeah. Barba's quick on his feet and came through. Those verdicts are definitely to his credit."

"Seems like you gotta good ADA workin' with ya."

"He is."

"Whaddya up to?"

"Nothing at the moment. Got home not too long ago and it's nice to…just do nothing for a little while."

"Absolutely. Uh, hey, hang on a second." Olivia heard rustling and a thud and then Ed's voice. "Sorry. Had to plug in the phone."

"No problem."

"How's the little guy?"

"He's good," she reported as she refilled her glass, "He's sleepin' like a baby."

"And you? Got back in there pretty quick. Everything ok?

"Me? I'm fine. I took the mandatory time off, and, yes, I'm seeing my shrink."

Tucker hadn't asked about the shrink, and he didn't like the professionalism in her response. " Hey. Not what I was asking…uh…any chance I can bring over a nightcap?"

"Well, that does sound like more fun." She heard a faint groan. Deep down, she, too, was bummed out by her response, "Rain check?"

"Yeah, sure, listen, uh, I want to do dinner soon."

"Okay."

"Or whatever. Miss seein' ya."

"Okay…Me too."

He wished her goodnight and they said their goodbyes. With all conversations ended for the evening, she poured more wine and stared into the television set, processing the day, the past week, the past month. She heard Rollins' sanctimony as another sip of Chianti burned her throat. She saw Serena. Commiserated with her mother's demons while doing her best to bury her own. She held up the wine bottle assessing the remaining contents, poured a little more, and diverted her thoughts back to Tucker. Part of her regretted declining his offer regardless of the fact that it was the smart move. The proposition was made partially in jest anyway.

Wasn't it?

She turned her phone over and over in her hand, satiated by the smooth fiberglass. Her free hand came into contact with a random toy and her eyes drifted to the image of her son sleeping soundly with one arm over his head and the other at his side, the position indicating he was in his deepest slumber.

Someday I'll sleep like that.

The glass nearly empty for the third time, she emptied the bottle and carried her drink to her bedroom. Still fully clothed, she reclined on top of her covers and opened a novel she'd been meaning to finish for over two years. She read a few pages but quickly surrendered to her overactive brain and her vibrant memory.

Again, Tucker's face crept into her mind and she pictured him maybe, at this moment, doing the same thing. Maybe he was trying to not think about her, not think about whatever it was he had to do tomorrow, not think about what she was thinking about.

Picturing a rattled, unsettled Tucker caused Olivia's lips to curl into a slight smile and an important realization dawned on her.

There was no way she was rejecting another one of Ed Tucker's invitations.

….

#Tuckson.