Title: Step At A Time

Author: ZombieJazz

Fandom: SVU

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.

Summary: With the fall upon them, Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy help their young children start a new chapter in their lives. They must work to come to terms with the new challenges and struggles facing them — including Benji's health, middle school, Grade 1 and new developments, colleagues and dynamics at their jobs. All the while they must make the necessary adjustments to their family and work life to operate within their new reality.

The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans AU.

"Hey," Olivia called at Brian and his head slowly rotated to give her a questioning look. She nodded at the Lego box he clearly didn't realize he'd been staring at for an extended period of time. So long that she'd wandered all the way down the aisle – and the next – and back. And he was still looking at it. Though, apparently at some point in that wandering he'd at least focused his intended contemplation enough that he'd managed to turn it around and look at the back. "So is that the set you want to get him?"

His gaze still looked confused for a beat – like he really had to process what she was asking, like it didn't make any sense. His mind was so far away that he also clearly had forgotten momentarily that he was even looking at the Lego set. But then it clicked and his eyes went back to the box.

"Yea, I dunno," Brian muttered and turned the box back around in his hands. "He'll like the truck, maybe the crane. The rest he doesn't really give a shit about."

It'd sure taken him a long time to come to that conclusion – to a reality they already knew. The Lego City sets – that were their go-to when Benji decided he needed yet another fire vehicle – came with a lot of buildings that were a pretty boring build and a pretty giant breakable playset that took up a whole lot of space and left a trail of a whole lot of pieces to be lost and stepped on.

Olivia pointed just down the aisle to the Technic sets – some sort of fire department SUV. "I like the price on that one better," she said. The $35 was a lot less painful than the $100 on the ladder truck set Brian was transfixed on.

Brian looked but made a sound. "He hasn't done Technic before."

Olivia shrugged. "He wants a big kid set," she provided and gestured between the age ranges of the two. The one Brian had might be 1,000 (ridiculous) pieces – but it clearly said it was for ages six and up.

It got another sound out of Brian. "Jack might end up taking over."

Olivia allowed her own small acknowledgement at that. It happened. So much so that they were STILL getting Jack a Lego set of his own at Christmases so that the kids had a crack at doing their own thing without him getting in on the fun. Though, the kids were getting more and more vocal – and capable – of telling their brother-uncle to keep his hands to himself. They really didn't need much help when it came to Lego. And when they did …

"That'd be awful," Olivia teased, "when I know Daddy wants to be the one helping."

He cocked his head at her a bit – an acknowledgement that Brian very much did like his turn to play with the bricks or at least look at the ingenuity and engineering behind the builds. But he didn't much like being called out on it.

"Leave that one," she encouraged a bit more firmly. "If he's still set on it in a few months, he can let Santa now. Maybe his workshop will know where and how to procure a 1,000 piece Lego set for under a hundred dollars."

"That'd be a Christmas miracle," Brian said – and he was right.

For a set that size – there likely wasn't going to be any sales. Though, they'd gotten pretty proficient at knowing when the fall sales did happen on Lego in the lead up to the holidays. They were both on the Lego mailing list. This was what her life was – at home – now. Olivia Benson … the Lego buying mom on a stupid number of coupon, free activities, open play, parks and rec and library mailing lists and PTA email blasts. Olivia Benson … spending her Friday night at the giant Target not far from Cragen's place in Bensonhurst so find her child a birthday gift and buy a boxed cake mix that she'd likely still manage to somehow bake wrong. She already knew she'd buy two boxes because of exactly that. It was the thought and effort …

This was now part of her life.

Though, when it came to the Lego, a lot of the time picking out the actual set she ultimately deferred to either Jack or Brian. They seemed a whole lot more opinionated about it than her. There was a long list of criteria that determined the cool factor and value factor to them. Olivia was pretty sure if it was a firetruck or a dragon, Benji would be fine with it. So her underlying decision-maker was always the price.

It'd become a part of her autumn routine. Her holiday and gift routine for her little boy and now her little girl. Emily was about as Lego obsessed as her big brothers (and her Daddy, another thing that Brian wasn't going to admit …). But Olivia actually found her daughter almost more fun to play Lego with. Emmy was at least was interested in just building with the blocks and not just following the instructions to put some set together to look at on the shelf for eternity.

Olivia wasn't sure how many more years Lego would be on Benji's wish list. Or how much longer she'd be willing to even consider them given the price point that the bigger sets came with that her 'big boy' was now wanting. Not when she was starting to see more and more the 'big boy' things he was wanting and the prices on the videogames and pieces of technology and brand name, logo bearing sports equipment, clothing and shoes.

It was teaching them a lot as people and parents about boundaries and limits. About how to help their kids to fit in and where and when they'd have to just learn to make do. About what their family values were. Where they stood on technology and commercialism and materialism. Standing firm on family and experiences and time together – not stuff or some logo that everyone else is wearing or some plastic toy knick-knack that will be broken and forgotten about within a week. Not videogames or movies or TV shows that 'everyone else' gets to play or watch.

But she was already feeling the shift happen of some of the pressures moving from passing childish fancies whined at her and then dropped to more concrete peer pressure of Benji trying to fit in. And her and Brian wanting him to have that opportunity – without more labels and flashing signs about him than he already had. Middle school and pre-teens. And an opportunity for new friends and new dynamics and new impressions. And their little boy – who was trying so hard to be a big boy now, who was growing up too quickly and was already an old soul to begin with – trying to find his way.

They were learning. Learning about middle school and parenting a pre-teen and raising a chronically ill, dyslexic child who'd been through severe trauma and suffered from PTSD, anxiety and abandonment issues. Sometimes she didn't think either of them knew what they were doing. Other times … she told herself, worked to convince herself … that her and Brian were the exact right people to be raising this child. The parents meant to love and support and care for Benji and Emmy. Adults who could get them – understand them – more than maybe these children would ever get to truly know.

"Yea … Technic is 10-plus …," Brian mumbled a bit and the City set got settled back on the shelf. "Five hundred pieces is a pretty good size. Decent deal for the price …", and he grabbed the set and put it into the cart instead.

But he stared at a box she'd set in the seat on her little circuit around the aislie while he'd stared into oblivion. It was an Escape Room in a box. One that claimed it was for kids ages 10 and up.

"It's on sale," she said. "We can put it away for another time. Or if it's raining tomorrow – or he's feeling off and we're staying in …"

And staying in was likely a strong possibility. Benji had seemed like he was dragging that night. Olivia wasn't sure — even if it wasn't raining in the morning — if he'd feel like doing much of anything that involved biking around a small island, running up hill, navigating balance beams, climbing cargo netting and grappling walls, and zipping down a zip-line Though, Benji might not entirely agree he wasn't up to any of that (or the laser maze, secret mission navigation and bomb defusing that the Spyscape Museum would entail — not that they'd told him that was a possibility in the case of rain). So, Olivia was kind of hoping that the Stargazer's Manor Escape Room in a Box game might be a reasonable way to convince Benji that spending a day at home was a viable option (though, if they let him open his presents in the morning she was pretty sure the sketch set they'd picked for him and this Lego set now might cause a few hours of stillness and quiet in their house too).

Benji had been asking about Escape Rooms for a while. There were a few family-friendly ones for younger kids and tweens around the city. And there'd been some kids who'd had birthdays at them last year. Benji had gotten to hear the kids talking about them – but, of course, had never gotten invited to them. Though, there seemed to be some glimmer of hope that might change. Even if he might've missed the whole kid birthday party stage – she wasn't so sure that was a middle school thing or the kids were too 'big' and grown up and cool for that. But they were starting to hear the names of some of his classmates mentioned on repeat – in positive ways. Activities at recess, play in the after-school gym, the group learning projects in the different classes. A playdate … phrased around 'hanging out' … had even been floated by Benji with 'Taylor' (who Olivia was so happy was even getting suggested she hadn't even clarified if 'Taylor' was a boy or girl).

But that was the faint hope they had now – that maybe they were starting to find a place for Benji and he was settling in enough to feel comfortable and confident enough to build some friendships too. That wasn't last year – or any of the many years before that – when playdates didn't happen and party invitations didn't come. So instead her and Brian had looked into the Escape Rooms as a weekend family activity but had been taken aback by the cost. If Jack had wanted to come with them, which she was very sure he would've – it was going to cost almost $175 for a one-hour activity. Maybe she shouldn't have been surprised – but she was. And Brian had definitely been an immediate hard-no. And she couldn't really fault him there.

But she wasn't impressed when, "How much is it?" came out of his mouth about the Escape in a Box game.

"Twenty dollars," she put to him bluntly. She thought about not answering at all. She really hated their confrontations – and conversations – about money and budget. And, yet, it seemed like they were having to have more and more of them lately. Reality and necessity was changing in their family life when it came to finances.

Brian made a noise and picked up the box to look at it. It wasn't a disapproving noise. And there wasn't further comment but she still weighed it while he read the back. It sounded fun. It sounded like something both their kids would be good at – and just love, especially with Benji's spy and detective thing he'd had going on lately. And it sure looked a whole lot less scary than some of these escape rooms they'd researched. They may let kids under 12 in with their parents – but Olivia sure wasn't sure they should be allowed in some of them with the themes and the dark and being locked inside. They didn't exactly sound like something that any of her three kids would particularly enjoy after they got in there – even if it sounded cool and trendy on the playground. And she wasn't any where near willing to pay $175 to be dealing with any – or all – of her kids getting triggered and the hours … days, night(mare)s, weeks … of fallout that could potentially cause.

"Emmy will be better at this than Big Man," Brian muttered as he read.

"Because of the reading?" Olivia pressed and caught a look from him. "It will be a family activity."

Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out to look at the screen. She rubbed at her eyebrow. "Have you heard of a movie called October Sky? Don wants to know if the kids can watch it."

"Never heard of it," Brian muttered again and set the game down.

He took over the pushing of the cart as she worked at keying in a reply: 'Sure, as long as it's PG and not scary'. But Don and Eileen already knew those general rules. She really doubted with a name like October Sky it was going to be anything too bad. But she Googled it quickly as she sent the text.

"It's about a kid who wants to be a rocket scientist," she called at Brian's back.

"Sounds like something Eileen picked and that the kids will be bored of in about twenty minutes …" he said and looked both ways at the end of the aisle, clearly trying to gauge where to next.

"I think it sounds like she's going to be giving them more ideas," Olivia said.

"Then next time she can be the one cleaning up the kids after the Coke bottle rocket experiment," Brian rasped.

Olivia smiled a bit. "I think the whole grandparent title means you get to do the fun part and not manage the fallout. Like your Mom bringing over a sugar bomb every visit."

Brian cast her a look over his shoulder at that, as he rocked against the cart. But he didn't say anything. He knew it was true – and before he didn't care about it much. Since Benji's diagnosis – and the kinds of medication and treatment he was on – he'd had more than one conversation with Janet about the hows and whys behind Benji's diet and how they needed her support in that. She was fairly good about it. The gluten she understood. Janet didn't quite get what constituted 'sugar' or 'low sugar', though. Or understand how some kind of sugar was in pretty much everything that you bought packaged in a store. So they'd had some missteps. And moments of her and Brian becoming the bad guys when they'd quickly set aside 'for later' (that never came and usually had to be switched out with something that was 'allowed') a treat Gramma had bought for them.

She rubbed at her eyebrow again. "They're just going to order pizza," she provided. "Are we going to want any?"

Brian turned her way again and gave a little shrug. "You hungry?"

"Not for pizza," she muttered. But that would be a nice treat for the kids.

Brian eyed her. "Did you want to grab an early bird special somewhere?"

She made a little noise at that. She wasn't sure where that would be in this part of Bensonhurst. Likely TGI-Fridays or something. And she wasn't spending money on that 'food'.

"Yea …," Brian mumbled as she got up next to him and pointed off toward the grocery section. Yep – her life had come to that too. She was going to do groceries in Target. But for what Benji had ordered for his birthday dinner she thought they'd likely be able to find most of what they needed there without having to make additional – more expensive – stops. "I just want to get home too."

She put her hand on his shoulder as he pushed – still slumped against the bar. He gave her another look. "You OK?"

He just made a noise and gave his head a bit of a shake.

"Work thing?" she asked. And he still just made a little noise. "Us thing? Kid thing? Benji thing?" she tried instead.

He sighed and straightened, giving her a look as they moved through the store. "All of the above …"

"Brian, what's wrong?" she sighed at him with that answer. "Is it the basketball shoe thing? If you feel that strongly that he needs basketball shoes, we'll get him basketball shoes. My comment was about … we just bought him new shoes for school. It's just …" she shook her head.

But he shook his too. "No, you're right. He doesn't need gym shoes that are going to cost us at least a C-Note."

She sighed at that. "Brian, you just stared for … I don't know, ten minutes … at a Lego set that was a hundred dollars. I am willing to spend the money on the shoes. Just say that's what you want to do."

He exhaled a bit and looked at her. "It's not that. It's …" He shook his head harder. "It's keeping him competitive. The caliber of play, the drills at the middle school level even with just this after-school program – it's changed."

And Olivia shrugged. "So then we get him better shoes, if that will help. We don't have the same kind of hockey expenses this season."

And he cocked his head at her again. "It's not that, Liv," he stressed again. "It's … all of this fucking shit. It's not knowing day-to-day whether he's even going to be up to going to school, let alone playing basketball. It's not knowing if he'll feel up to go to the fucking park tomorrow for his birthday. All our kid wants to do is go to the fucking park and what … we can't even firm up on that. Or the museum. It's always having to have a back-up plan for our back-up plan," he said and gestured at the boxed escape room. "It's the fucking insurance companies running us around in circles about whether or not he meets these bullshit medical criteria for them to pay for this fucking immunoglobulin therapy. The doctor says this our best bet. How is that not fucking enough for these fucking vultures?"

Olivia found his hand where it was white knuckling the cart and she wedged her hand under his – forced him to hold hers, weaving her fingers with his and squeezing tightly. "You need to stop," she nodded at him. "Stop worrying about that. However it works out, Brian – he'll get the treatment and it's not going to irrevocably bankrupt us. Worst case – is racking up some credit card debt or we'll go a few months behind on our mortgage payments."

"And if he needs several rounds of this shit? Two, three, four rounds, Liv? Again if it flares up the lung tissues bad down the road? At seven-grand a pop?"

She kept his eyes. "Let's just focus on Round One. We'll see how he does. And if it helps him, Brian, we will do what we need to do. He is our son. The money doesn't matter. He matters."

Brian hung his head a bit. And Olivia set her hand against the back of it – striving to help calm him while he worked at calming himself too.

"I feel like I'm losing him in all this. We're having to move away from all this shit where I found common ground with him. To this art stuff and the museum stuff. And I don't get it. I try but it's not my fucking thing, Liv."

She crunched her fingers through his hair. "The kids are your thing, Bri. It doesn't matter what they like. You love his art. You don't have to understand it. He's not at the point where he's needing or wanting that from either of us. He just loves to draw. We just have to let him draw, paint. That's all."

"Yea, but it's not. And what if some other vulture sees the gap – sees the vulnerable kid or the kid who has Daddy issues – and moves in."

She sighed and shook her head. "Brian, that's not going to happen. We don't have to love everything the kids like to be there for them. To show up for them. You show up. You always have – it's why you are their Daddy."

He just made a sound and she ran her nails against his scalp again. He straightened a bit – trying to end his public breakdown. But also to look her in the eye.

"There's a case at work," he said. "One with kids."

"No one can handle the ones involving children," she allowed. And she knew that right now – with Brian – that would be even truer.

"It's this guy who basically established his own personal brothel with his 'nieces' and 'nephews'. It's just …" he shook his head. "I'm doing the projection thing. It's getting to me – my stuff. But some of these kids – this one little boy – some of the pictures we're having to go through with the investigation. It's got me … I'm seeing Ben too much."

She found his hand again and squeezed harder. "Don't go there," she said. "That little boy is not Benji. And the little boy we have at home, Brian, he's not the same little boy who lived on that farm – because he has us. Because he has a Mommy and a Daddy and a little sister and a big brother-uncle. We have a little-big boy who's waiting for us to pick him up from his grandparents so we can go home to a sleepless night because he's so excited about a birthday 'party' with his family. So what we need to be focusing on is … if Betty Crocker makes gluten-free cake mix that isn't overloaded with sugar and just where Target shelves their Old El Paso boxes. OK? Because taco 'bout a good 'party'. Right?"

It got a little smile out of him. A small amused noise. And he gave a little nod.

"OK …," he mumbled. "And … if Target carries a spy-firefighter watch that is under forty-bucks."

"Oh, I'm absolutely sure Target is definitely the place to go to for that," she said and put her hand on his back as he pushed forward. As they both did – again. Together.

AUTHOR NOTE:

Reviews and feedback are appreciated — in this chapter and others. In this story and others.

Not sure what the next chapter/scene will be in this AU.