A/N: I had almost no control over this once the idea popped into my head. Taking some liberties with some things, for the good of the story, but nothing too major I don't think. Characters aren't mine. Let me know here or on twitter (bonosaurus) what you think :)
##
Tucker walks into the diner and immediately starts scanning the booths for the person he's looking for. Finding him, he approaches the table, waving his hand to stop the man from getting up to greet him.
Sliding into the unoccupied side of the booth, they sit in an uncomfortable silence for a minute. Ed can't stop himself from fidgeting, and his companion studies him, his face expectant.
Breaking the ice, he says, "Well, I never thought I'd see the day that I'd be fielding lunch invitations from Ed Tucker."
Ed rolls his eyes, "I can't say I'm exactly thrilled to be here, either."
"So why are we? Enlighten me, Tucker," Don Cragen replies.
Ed takes a deep breath, interlacing his fingers and leveling the former SVU Captain with a hard stare. "Olivia."
Immediately, concern lines Don's face. "Liv? She okay?"
Ed nods shakily, uneasily. "Physically? She's fine."
"And otherwise?"
Ed sighs and under his breath, he says, "She'll kill me when she founds out I called you." He looks away for a second, beaten. "I need help."
Don shakes his head. "I'm confused. Do you need my help? Or does Olivia?"
"I need your help…for her." Ed can tell Cragen is not following, and he doesn't blame him. He hadn't exactly planned out how this conversation was going to go, though in retrospect, maybe he should have. "She's been…drinking." He doesn't need to specify an amount, because he knows Don will understand what he means, that her habits have crossed the line into unhealthy.
Don leans back against the booth, letting out a breath, as if the wind has been knocked out of him. Disappointment is a powerful force. "Dammit," he mutters, looking down at his hands before meeting Tucker's eyes again. "How long?"
Ed gives him a half-shrug. "I don't know for sure. But if I had to guess… probably since Lewis." Don balks at the timeline. Lewis was almost three years ago. "I've only been around to notice it the last year or so."
"I thought she was seeing a shrink," Don questions.
"She was," Ed answers, matter-of-factly. "She is," correcting himself. "But I'd bet my pension she hasn't mentioned it to the guy."
Don nods. That sounds like her – no hope of getting a straight answer if you don't know the right questions to ask. "How bad?" They've never worked very well together, but the conversation moves along in shorthand, giving the illusion that they know each other much better than they actually do.
Tucker leans back against the booth and gives Don an appraising look. "Uni called me, smelled booze on her breath at a scene. Said she was unsteady, slurring her words."
"Shit," Don whispers, dropping his head.
"He called me directly, worried about her. Her command isn't in jeopardy," he takes a deep breath. "Yet. But I can't keep covering for her. And she can't keep doing this. She's in denial and won't listen to me; swears she doesn't have a problem."
"Of course she does. That's Olivia. She's always fine," Don responds knowingly. Ed has no response and directs his gaze back to his interlaced fingers. Don was a detective for a lot of years, can read the signs, the body language. That, and the fact that he knows Tucker would never have called him two years into retirement if he didn't care about his former detective. "How long have you two…?" He lets the question trail off.
"Officially, just a few months," Ed answers, his tone guarded. "Unofficially, a bit longer."
Cragen's lip curls into a small smile. He's glad she has someone who's looking out for her now. He'd always worried she would let the job keep her from having a life. He sits up in the booth, getting down to business. He's always thought of her like a daughter, and now she needs his help.
"Okay," Don says, determined. "What do you need me to do?"
##
Olivia does a double take when she sees the name flashing on her phone when it rings. She answers it immediately. "Captain?" Her tone is worried. She hasn't heard from him but for the occasional phone call since he retired.
"Hey, Olivia," he says warmly. "Or should I call you Lieutenant now? How's the new gig?"
She laughs, "I feel like a kindergarten teacher sometimes, but for the most part it's alright." She pauses, "What's going on with you? How's retirement?"
"Not all it's cracked up to be," he quips. "Things are good. Aileen is good."
"I'm glad. It's good to hear from you," she says. "Are you coming back to New York anytime soon?"
"Actually," he begins, and he tries to keep the apprehension out of his voice, "I'm in New York right now, just for a couple days. I was hoping you might be free to grab a bite tonight?"
"Absolutely," she answers. "I'll call Fin and Amanda and see if they can join."
"No," he answers quickly, and she's taken aback for a moment before letting it go. "I'll catch them next time around. Besides, someone's gotta catch the bad guys, right?"
"Of course," she laughs. "Tell me where to meet you."
##
She gets to the restaurant before he does and sits at the bar to order a glass of wine. He's picked a quiet family-owned steakhouse in Midtown. It's a place she'd never been before.
He spots her immediately when he walks in and he heads straight over to her, ordering a club soda with lime from the bartender. She's off her stool in a second and wrapping her arms around him. They hold the embrace. She hadn't realized how much she's missed him. "It is so good to see you," she whispers.
"You, too," his eyes are laced with a bit of sadness that he tries to hide before they pull back. The bartender slides his drink to him and Don looks at her, "Should we get a table?"
She nods her assent, picking up the glass of wine that she is nearly finished with before turning and following his lead to the maître de. They're seated at a table opposite the kitchen, and there aren't too many patrons in their section, so it's quiet and the ambiance is nice.
He asks about her son. She had been in the process of finalizing the adoption when they last spoke, and he smiles fondly when she lights up talking about the little boy. She whips out her phone, flipping through pictures and turning it around whenever she finds a particularly cute one.
"I'm happy for you," he says sincerely.
She ducks her head, smiling, fingers playing along the bottom of her glass. "Thank you."
"And what else is new? Anyone special in your life? Other than the rugrat, of course." He winks.
She adjusts her position in her seat nervously. "Uh, yeah, actually," she stammers. "Ed Tucker."
Of course, he already knows this. But he schools his features to look appropriately surprised. "IAB Ed Tucker?"
She laughs softly at that; it's the response she's used to getting when people who know of her and Ed's history find out that they're now together. An item. "Yep, that's the one."
"How did that happen?" He hadn't asked this of Ed when they met for lunch earlier, but he was curious.
"You know, it was kind of an unconscious thing," she muses. "We met up a couple times to talk about work stuff, and it just kind of…" she looks up, searching for the word, flailing her hand, "…evolved, from there." She shrugs. "He's a good man, underneath the badge."
Don was finding that out himself. "As long as you're happy," he assures her, earning a smile.
"I am."
The server stops by to take their orders. Olivia gets a refill on her wine, and Don opts for plain water this time. They order dinner, and go into more depth on updating the other on their lives since they were last in communication. Don tells her about being on the board of his and Aileen's condo – "People call us snow bunnies," he informs her, with derision – and she tells him about Carisi and Dodds, newly acquired since he made his exit from the NYPD. He shares that he's kept up with Nick a little here and there.
After dinner, they hit a lull. He's getting nervous because he knows he has to broach the topic that led him to invite her to dinner in the first place, and he knows Olivia, so he knows she's not going to react well. Luckily, the restaurant isn't crowded, so they shouldn't make too much of a scene, but he's been enjoying catching up with her so far and a part of him doesn't want to ruin it.
When Ed had gone over the measures he'd taken to get through to Olivia, Don offered to have him come along to dinner with them, be present for the conversation. But Tucker was adamant – this was their thing. If there was a chance of Olivia taking to heart what Don had to say, it was going to happen when it was just the two of them. Ed didn't have a place at that table.
She can sense her former captain's unease as the evening draws to a close. They order dessert, and she asks the server to bring her another glass of wine. She seems unfazed that it is her third since arriving this evening. Don looks at it pointedly - not unlike the way Tucker did at the bar that one time. She freezes.
He gives her a look. That look. After a decade-plus under his command, she's used to it. It's hangdog; his brow wrinkles. It's pleading. Like a father who knows his daughter is lying, but is waiting patiently for her to come clean on her own before he calls her out. It doesn't have the desired effect.
She leans back in the booth, flattening her hands on the tabletop to quell the frustration that has surged within her. She understands what this evening is about now, and she's pissed, at both of them. Through gritted teeth, she asks, "Tucker called you, didn't he?"
He's immediately on the defensive. "Don't get mad at him, Olivia."
"Captain…"
He puts his hand over hers. "I'm not your Captain anymore, Liv." She meets his eyes. "Right now, I'm here as your friend. And I'm worried about you."
"Well, don't be. I've got things under control," she assures him dismissively, looking away.
Cragen says nothing for a moment, just looks at her. She can feel his eyes, but she refuses to look up.
"Do you?" Finally, she gives in and she almost wants to cry at the look in his eyes. She's disappointed him.
But she won't feel sorry for herself, and she feels betrayed that her boyfriend – or whatever he is – and the only father figure she's ever really known have conspired together behind her back. "I'm not doing this with you," she moves to get out of the booth, but his voice stops her.
"Then who are you going to do it with, Liv? Tucker? He told me he's tried, but you won't listen to him."
She leans forward across the table and pierces him with her eyes. "Because I don't have a problem."
Their eyes are locked. Her gaze is hard, unflinching. He gestures to the wine glass. "How many is that tonight?"
She shakes her head, incredulous, "What, I'm not allowed to have wine with dinner?"
"I'm not saying that. But it's more than that, isn't it?" He doesn't need her to respond. He knows. They both do.
She traces the wood grain on the table with a thumb. She refuses to acknowledge him.
"Liv," he calls to her. "Think of your mother…"
"I do," she interjects, "all the time."
"Okay," he nods.
"My mother," she continues, "was an alcoholic. I spent my entire childhood, into my teenage years, cleaning up her vomit and broken glass from when she would throw her empty Vodka bottles at me." Her eyes dart to his. "I'm not an alcoholic, Don. I wouldn't ever do that to my kid."
"Maybe not now," Don concedes. "But where exactly do you think this is heading?"
She is flummoxed. "I'm not doing this," she declares, and then she's up and out of the booth before he can stop her. His eyes follow her out of the restaurant, and begrudgingly, he picks up his phone, selects a number and holds it to his ear.
"It's Don," he starts. "She just left. It didn't…" he sighs, "It didn't go well."
##
Tucker sits on his couch. His TV is on, but he's not paying attention. He's waiting. Cragen had called him and told him she left, and that she was pissed.
He hears her key in his door and she barrels in, right on time. He's off the couch in the time it takes her to get from his door to his living room.
It doesn't take him two seconds to determine that Cragen's assessment of her mood is very, very wrong. She's not just pissed. She is fire. She is livid.
"You bastard," she seethes, getting right in his face.
"Liv—" he tries to interrupt, softly.
"You called Cragen?" She shouts, interrupting him. He goes to speak again, but she's not having it, so he resigns himself to stand, hands in pockets, while she yells at him. "You called my old captain? For a fucking intervention? Jesus, Ed." She buries her face in her hands before shouting again, "I am fine!"
"No." Ed is fired up now. All the hardness that had all but disappeared in his demeanor when they started dating is back with a vengeance. "No, you're not Olivia. Christ - you were buzzed AT WORK. That is the complete opposite of FINE." Softer, "I am worried about you. And that doesn't seem to matter to you. So, I hoped that Don could get through to you."
"Fuck you. I'm a big girl, Ed," she argues, pacing.
"Yes, you are. But I'm nearing the end of my rope here, Olivia," he implores. "It was either Don, or Lindstrom, and I know Lindstrom has the power to tell 1PP you're not fit for duty. So I did you a favor," he emphasizes the last word, narrowing his eyes at her, "by going to your old captain first, hoping I wouldn't have to play the next card in my hand."
She smiles at him, shaking her head, but there is no humor in her expression. She is furious.
"Ed," she starts, her tone threatening. "If you're not going to trust me, then…" She turns, throwing her hands up in exasperation, heading for the door.
"No," he stealthily moves to block her exit. "I'm not letting you leave."
Their eyes lock, she's challenging him and he's not budging. Obstinate. Stubborn. Desperate.
"What's it gonna take, Olivia, to make you see the devastation that's at the end of this road for you?" He's searching her eyes, begging for anything, a small clue, on how to pull her out of this mess she's drank herself into. "Losing Noah? Losing your shield? Your pension?" She tries to look away from him, but his head follows hers. He won't let her break eye contact.
"Stop," she demands.
"No," he insists. "Not until you do."
She is so tired. From the wine - though she'll never admit it - and from feeling like she's had to defend herself at every turn this evening. She doesn't have the energy for this, and she drops onto the couch. He joins her a moment later, and he is relieved when she doesn't withdraw from his attempt to hold her hand, though she doesn't grip his in return.
"I care about you, Olivia," he tells her, solemnly. "So much that I can't even put it into words." He pauses and she has yet to look up at him. "I can't keep watching you do this."
"No one is keeping you here, Tucker," she argues. "If you don't want to be in this relationship, then don't be in it."
He drops her hand and stands, frustrated. "Goddammit, Olivia," he is struggling to rein in his own anger. "I fucking love you, I'm not walking away now. But you gotta help me out here. Meet me halfway!" He softens, "Doesn't it scare you, even a little bit, that this is all going to catch up to you?" No response. "You watched your mother decay from this. You had to give that Paxton ADA a fucking Breathalyzer test in court. That Eldridge case you had way back when. How many times have you seen this? How many times has it ended well?"
She scoffs, but it is halfhearted.
"You need help," he says, emphasizing the last word. "Please let me help you."
She shakes her head, not in response, but as an overall reaction to the situation.
He wants to help her, but it has never been easy for her to accept help, and in order for her to do that, she has to acknowledge that she has a problem. Deep down, she already has. But the difference between acknowledging it internally and freely admitting it out loud is vast. She can't bring herself to do the latter yet.
That would make it too real.
Ed stands a few feet from her, hands on his hips, watching her.
"I need you to talk to me, Liv."
"I don't know what you want me to say," she replies, weakly.
"Yes, you do," he insists, but still, she says nothing. "I don't know what else to do here."
"Let me deal with this on my own," she suggests.
He shakes his head, "I can't do that, because I know you won't." She rolls her eyes, "I'm not trying to be a pain in your ass, okay? I don't want to be the bad guy anymore, Olivia. But more than that, I don't want to see you go down for this." He sits down next to her again. "I'm trying to throw you a life preserver here."
"I'm not a fucking damsel in distress, Ed. I don't need a knight in shining armor. I can take care of myself – been doing it for years," she snaps at him, but her resolve is weakening.
He's beyond frustrated and feels like he might as well be speaking in Chinese for how much she understands what he is saying. But he's not going to let it discourage him. If it kills him, he's going to have a breakthrough with her tonight. "Look," he starts softly. "I'm not trying to be your hero."
He takes her hand and pulls her to him and she allows herself to relax into his body, albeit slightly reluctantly. "I know," she whispers.
She does. She knows that, like Cragen, Ed only wants the best things for her. She knows that the more she allowed herself to become dependent on libations, the more precarious a position she was putting her life in, and Noah's.
But it was such a gradual decline, she hadn't even realized it was happening until it was too late and the damage was done. She's had a front row seat for the devastation alcoholism can cause her whole life. And presently, she was on the main stage.
The thought is sobering, in more ways than one. Tonight is a wake-up call. Ed is right – if she doesn't regain control, she could lose everything she's ever wanted, everything she's ever worked for. What is she if not a mother, not a cop? And how easily both of those could be taken away… She had seen it happen before.
If Ed was desperate enough to call on her former superior, despite the bad blood between them, then she probably stood a decent chance of losing him, too, despite his insistence that he wouldn't walk away. Everyone has a breaking point. She could only be thankful that she hadn't pushed him to his tonight.
She pulls away from him enough to look in his eyes, and his blue irises hold so much fear, worry. He lets out a breath when he sees that there is no fight left in her anymore. She is resigned.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. It's an apology for tonight, for everything that has led up to it. He doesn't respond, just lets his forehead fall to rest against hers, his fingers absently running through her hair. "I'll call Cragen tomorrow," she promises. "I'll talk to him." He nods, comforted. "This isn't going to be easy for me, you know."
"I know."
"I'm probably going to fight you again before this is over."
"I know that, too." She nods. "Thank you, Liv." He is grateful to her not only for listening but also for actually hearing him - finally.
"I do want to get better." She nestles back into him. "I don't want to be to Noah what my mom was to me. I was so miserable. I don't want that for him."
"That's half the battle right there," he assures her. "I know you don't. And I meant it, Liv – I'll be here, every step of the way. You don't have to do this alone."
She meets his eyes, offering him a shy, apologetic smile. "I won't be."
##
"I'm sorry for running out on you last night," she says firmly, but cautiously. "I just wasn't ready." She offers Don a smile, which he returns.
"I get it, Liv." He leans forward, grasping one of her hands in his. "But you're ready now?"
She takes a sip of her coffee, nodding. "I think so."
"Good."
"I tore Ed a new asshole when I got to his place last night," she laughs somberly.
Don chuckles. "I saw that coming."
"I don't know what it was that he said that finally struck a nerve. He'd said it all before. But for some reason, last night…"
"Maybe it wasn't what he said," Don muses, interrupting her. "Maybe it's just that you were finally, really listening."
Their eyes lock and slowly, she smiles. "Maybe." She takes another sip of coffee. "So I set up an appointment with my therapist for this afternoon. I'm going to tell him about the drinking. Ed is coming with me."
He gives her an encouraging smile. "I'm happy to hear that."
Her fingers trace the rim of her coffee cup. "Yeah," she says absently. "If that doesn't help, then I guess I'll start going to meetings."
A.A. Never in a million years did she think she'd be contemplating going to A.A. meetings. But, that's where she was, if the therapy didn't work.
"If it comes to that, Liv, they're not so bad," he reassures her. "And you know you can always call me, talk things out if you need to."
She knows that. She has always known that. Her eyes fill with tears anyway. "I know."
His flight is leaving this afternoon, back to Florida, and they linger in the coffee shop awhile longer before he has to head back to get his things together and she needs to get to work.
Saying goodbye is as bittersweet now as it was the last time they parted company, but at least she knows now that they will be better at keeping in touch this time. They're both insistent on it. She holds him tight when they hug, and she is near tears when she whispers thank you in his ear, the words thick with emotion.
They let go and move to head in separate directions. As he walks away, he calls to her. "Take care, Olivia."
She nods. She will.
##
A/N: So, not knowing yet why Olivia and Noah need "support" from Munch in Fashionable Crimes, I got to thinking… what would Cragen say if he knew that Olivia was struggling with a drinking problem, since he's a recovering alcoholic? And this fic was born. I'm writing the F out of something happy tomorrow – this sucker drained me. Thanks for reading :)