Tucker. The Tucker? He silently questioned her, to which she gave the slightest nod. He stood to the side for a moment to gather his thoughts. How? Why? When? He couldn't dwell on it, at least not now. Today was a chance to see her son; to familiarize himself with her new life.

—

"So I hear you make the best cookies…" His words were directed toward Noah. After a quick examination, he noticed that the boy seemed to have a natural talent for art.

"Hm...yeah." He looked up at the man, a boyish grin on his lips. His tiny hands carefully decorated the star shaped dough, tongue sticking out while focusing.

"You think you could make me one with red and blue sprinkles?"

Noah looked up at Olivia for approval. "Of course."

Despite the fact that he was there, his mind wasn't fully present. He had questions. Walking around the counter, his hand brushed against her lower back. The contact made both of them shiver; neither said a word.

He broke the brief silence. "Looks like you've got an artist on your hands, Liv."

To see her as a mom, something that came so effortlessly, was a sight he had longed for. It was her dream - one that people told her she wasn't fit for. She proved all of them wrong.

"Yeah." She let out an airy chuckle. "He's an amazing dancer."

"Didn't get that from you." He teased. In all of the years they worked together, it was rare to find her in formal attire - let alone in a formal setting.

"Do you want to make one?" Noah interrupted, bright blue eyes met his weathered ones.

"Sure." He stood beside the boy, listening intently to his instructions before starting to mold his own creation.

The interaction warmed her heart; it was simple, but her son was accepting of Elliot. Whatever he was, whatever he may be. She observed the two; the softer side of him wasn't one he often let others see. This is what she truly wanted, what she needed. But there was so much to cover - would he still want her after he knew?

Her skin crawled. He was here. His presence. He had been dead for years, yet he had a hold on her. Not as often as it was once, but just enough to make her mind spiral. She needed to breathe, to somehow be strong - for both of them.

"I'll be back, boys. Don't make a mess." Her tone was flat; she was hiding something. The spark that was normally there was noticeably absent.

He knew something was wrong - she walked toward what he assumed was her room. For now, he'd focus on her son. He wanted to get to know him.

"You and your mom do this often?"

"Yeah, when she's not busy." He hummed to himself. "Work." He answered simply; he really was her son. Leave it to Olivia Benson's child to absentmindedly talk about work.

"You know, your mom and I used to be partners a long time ago."

"Like when there were dinosaurs?"

"Hey, now." Elliot's large hand grabbed Noah's shoulder to nudge him.

He giggled.

"We met a few years after the dinosaurs were extinct…"

His mind drifted to their first years - how they had instantly bonded, the way that they had each other's backs. She was the partner of a lifetime, in more ways than one.

"What color sprinkles do you think your mom would like?" They looked at all of the options, ultimately deciding on purple. "Let's get these into the oven." Elliot guided Noah's small hands to put them in, and then leaned against the counter.

"How about you watch one of your shows? I'll go check on your Mom." He reached over to ruffle the boy's curly locks. "I'll bet it's work." Elliot knew it wasn't, but it was sufficient enough for the eight year old. Once he was on the couch with his iPad, he waited a few minutes to find the courage to go to her room.

—

Her door wasn't entirely closed; he cracked it open to softly call her name. "Liv?" She was sitting on her bed, back facing him. "We put the cookies in the oven…" He began carefully, just like she had been with him the previous night.

When he reached the other side, her eyes were red - tear stains on her cheeks. "If this is about Tuck—"

"Elliot." Her voice was raw. He kneeled down in front of her, leveling himself with her line of vision. "Talk to me, Liv." His hand reached out to touch her arm, but she flinched. This was unlike her. Sitting on the floor, he rested his head against the wall. "I'm here. Always."

She knew that, they both knew that. Yet his words were comforting. "Yes, Tucker and I did date…." She exhaled; he interrupted. "Was he your serious relationship?" She didn't miss a beat. "Yeah." He was in sync with her song; their words instantly pinged off of each other. "Okay.."

He wasn't sure how to take it, but he'd have to accept it. "Is he why you're upset?"

"No. Maybe." She had to find it in herself to tell him; to let him in again. He was trying, she wanted to as well. "He committed suicide, Elliot."

He never liked the man, but taking your life was one hell of a way to hurt those around you. Selfish. He thought, but didn't dare vocalize. "I'm sorry…" He searched her eyes for answers; she gave him nothing. Her eyes were blank, much darker than normal. Something about the way she fixated on the carpet reminded him of himself. There was something deeper; something more to her story.

"Elliot, I was kidnapped."

The wind was knocked out of him. He looked at her, and back to the floor - he didn't want to overwhelm her with his gaze. His mind went to the worst places. Given their line of duty, or rather hers, it was likely that it could be that. Something he cursed himself for not preventing.

"I…" He started, she stopped him. "Not now, Elliot. I can't." She patted her eyes dry with her sleeve, now looking at him again. She looked broken. "This is how you knew about my….issues." A nod was all she gave him.

"Is it okay if I sit next to you?"

"Yeah…" Her voice was small. He wanted to hold her, to keep her safe from all that could harm her. I should've been here. They sat beside each other; he didn't touch her, he'd wait for her to come to him.

"I like Noah." He spoke slowly and deliberately, doing his best to provide comfort. "He's very professional." He wanted to bring her to, to begin to return the years of comfort she brought him. "You're a good mom." He paused. "It shows, with the way he carries himself." The smile that formed on his lips wasn't intentional. "I told him you were probably dealing with work."

His words were reassuring; she didn't want to scare her son, nor did she want him to know. Not yet.

"We can...talk about this later. Once Noah is in bed for the night."

They rose together, he brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. A light kiss was pressed to the top of her head; it was his way of conveying that it would be okay, that he was here.

—

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