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.
"So is apple picking actually a thing?" Amanda asked Olivia as they trudged toward the elevator up to the bullpen. Olivia definitely got the sense they were both running on fumes that morning. Amanda definitely didn't seem to have as much pep in her step – the beeline – that she usually seemed to take in commanding the precinct.
Olivia gave her a look, as she clutched the files she'd taken home with her the night before and had hardly had the chance to look at, against her chest. "Ah, if you mean apple trees exist and you can pick the fruit from them? Yes," Olivia provided her.
Amanda allowed her a half-smile of mild annoyance at that comment. "But is it a 'thing'? Carisi won't shut up about it – like I'm completely denying the girls some childhood milestone by not taking them apple picking."
Olivia made a small, amused sound. "Ah. Well, yes, I suppose it's that kind of 'thing' too."
"This is New York City – where the hell do you go to pick apples?"
"You realize that despite currently living on a little island, Amanda, there is a whole world just across either river," Olivia put to her. "One with apple orchards."
"And, of course, you take Benji and Emmy?" Amanda pressed at her and then pushed at the button at the elevator. Olivia gave her a bit of a look at that. She really wasn't in the mood for the comparison, competitive parenting game or who's approach to child-rearing was working out better. As far as she was concerned anymore – they were both grown woman, making their own mistakes and the best choices they felt they could in just trying to navigate the impossible mission of getting their children to adulthood in something resembling one piece. "Sorry, these wholesome family-friendly activities are little outside my realm of experience. Going out to an orchard wasn't exactly high on the list of my family priorities growing up."
"Not even peaches," Olivia offered in mild jest as the elevator dinged open.
"More like the race track, "Amanda muttered again and looked at her as the elevator started up to the bullpen's floor. "And what do you even do with the apples collected on this big milestone?"
Olivia gave her a look. "Eat them? Bake them? Make some good old fashion apple pie …"
Amanda shook her head. "He better not be expecting me to be doing any baking."
Olivia allowed another amused sound to purse out of her lips. "I get the strong impression Carisi's mother would take care of that aspect of the outing for you."
"Oh, while now you're making all this nagging from him sound spectacularly better," Amanda grumbled.
The doors opened. "You could try telling him you have other weekend plans."
"Or I could just tell him me and the girls are already going apple picking with y'all," Amanda suggested.
Olivia laughed – because that was laughable. Amanda and Brian spending any amount of time in close to proximity to each other? Wouldn't that be an autumn treat. She could feel the cold front setting in already.
"I'm sure that would be a good time for everyone," Olivia said sarcastically.
"Trust me, spending an afternoon with you and yours is about a hundred times better than any activity Carisi decides to impose as a Must-Do for bonding with the girls. The level of tacky extremes cannot be overstated here, Liv."
"Your partner is Staten Island Italian …" she offered.
Amanda rolled her eyes. "And, what? Brooklyn Irish is more sophisticated?"
Olivia offered her a smile. "I'm not sure those two demographics like to be compared. And, we've actually already done our apple-picking outing."
"Of course," Amanda rolled her eyes. "And baked your apple pies too?"
"Oh, we're an apple crisp family," Olivia put back to her.
It got another eye roll. That was fine. Her family's eyes rolled about to the back of their heads in anticipation when apple season – and more specifically apple crisp season – rolled around. It was one baked good she seemed to not be able to screw up – much to the sojourn of Brian's mother. For approximately six weeks per year, her baking exceeded that of any sweet treat Janet would bring over. It was the Sunday dessert request from September through the end of October – with it being a fight to keep any leftovers in the house. Even the switch to gluten-free and low-sugar options hadn't resulted in a complete disaster. And that said something – because she wasn't going to talk (at work) about the attempt to make some apple cinnamon muffins for breakfast and after-school snacks. The ones that literally turned out as flat and hard as hockey pucks.
LITERALLY – to the point that Brian and Benji had used them as much in the back lot with their street hockey sticks and nets before dumping them into one of the garden boxes as compost. Only now they were turning into a science experiment – because they sure weren't decomposing and even the birds and insects seemed completely uninterested.
Benji and Emmy on the other hand were fascinated. They checked them every day and gave her an update on their non-rotting, petrified status. John had been over and observed them too – providing them with a rather lengthy commentary on agribusiness, the state of food in America and the conspiracies around wheat, dairy, sugar and all the big brand name alternatives to those products. Basically – just now no matter what they were all going to die, which Olivia thought was pretty inevitable no matter what they ate. But, he'd encouraged the kids to chart the 'pending biological and environmental disaster.' And, Benji and Emmy had, of course, taken their Unkie Munchie's urgent sarcasm as a challenge to show their scientist chops. So they now had a chart in their homework nook noting their observations on the significant lack of decomposition.
Olivia was sure that Janet was loving that the out-of-the-box baking attempt had become a science experiment. Grandma needed assurances that Mommy's baking would never compare to the Monkey Bread she brought over for her 'monkeys' – because Janet might just feel like she lost all direction in the family dynamic if she wasn't getting to provide baked goods, crochet and babysitting to the family. Olivia was actually quite sure Amanda would love hearing that story too – but she'd never hear the end of it if it spread beyond their home life. So she kept her mouth zipped.
"You might be in luck," Olivia said instead, "because I'm pretty sure you'll be hard pressed to find an orchard with many apples left on the trees at this point. So he might have to settle on a pumpkin patch instead."
Amanda gaped at her. "OK. That's a thing? Because that sounds way worse."
"Oh, it's way worse," Olivia agreed. "But Brian can definitely direct him to every spook-tactular farm-like experience within a 50 mile radius."
"And then you avoid them all, right?" Amanda muttered.
"I wish," she said. "Haunted hayrides and pumpkin catapults—"
"You're kidding me, right?" Amanda gapped.
"Oh, I am not. And they are the highlight of our fall itineraries. It is a 'thing'."
"Of course," Amanda grumbled some more.
"But, sadly for you and your Carisi situation, we usually save going to pick our Jack-o-Lanterns until closer to the end of the month," Olivia said but then stalled a bit, as they came into the bullpen and she saw another frightful Jack loitering near her office door.
Jack gave her an apologetic look – and her and Amanda both shared a look of their own. Amanda veering off toward her desk while Olivia made her way to her door, fishing out her keys.
"Hey …," Jack offered as she got there.
"You're going to be late to work," she put to him flatly.
He slumped against the door jam as she fumbled to get the door open – not offering to take the files for her or to take the keys and do it himself.
"Not that late …," he said.
"Mmm …," Olivia offered as she got the door unlocked and pushed it open with her foot. "That's always the attitude you want in an employee not even six months onto the job."
"Mom …," he sighed at her.
She went to her desk and off-loaded her files and then returned to her coat stand to remove her jacket.
"You haven't been answering my calls," Jack said – still leaning in the doorway.
"No, I haven't," she agreed. "Because you've been calling during the workday – and this is not appropriate workday conversation. And it is definitely not appropriate workplace conversation."
"Well, what am I supposed to do," Jack pressed at her, "when you aren't answering my calls or texts."
"Jack," she pushed back firmly. "I am answering your calls and texts. In the evening – after I get home and after I get through our evening routines and priorities with the kids and after they are in bed. You aren't picking up in those hours – that make much more sense to have this personal, private talk."
He sighed and hung his head, staring at his feet and scuffing at his shoes. Still the teenaged boy despite charging toward his twenty-sixth birthday.
"Is Brian still taking you out to dinner this week?" he whispered.
Olivia moved back to her desk, rubbing at her eyebrow and trying to get organized for the day. She really didn't want to be doing this here – now. Beyond it being wildly inappropriate – and not the kind of dirty family laundry she need displayed in her bullpen – she just didn't need the distraction. Having this kind of charged conversation with preoccupy part of her mind – and being – for most of the day. It'd put her off her game and affect her attitude, emotions and tone with everyone else she came in contact with no matter how much she tried to keep it in its place and compartmentalize it. She had enough of her home life – and her family, marriage, and children – worries seeping into how she performed her job lately. There were enough distractions. She tried to use work as a way to find a few hours to get out of her own head – to deal with something else. To work on other people's pressing issues. To try to help – and fix – something she could actually help and fix (sometimes). Her home life just felt like she was desperately trying to keep everyone's heads above water most days. And she kept getting pulled down and taking big gulping mouthfuls of water pretty regularly. She didn't need Jack pouring one of those mouthfuls down her throat.
"I don't know," she said. "Maybe."
"Well, if you aren't going out can I come over on your birthday?"
She cast him a look. "If we aren't going out, Jack, it's because Benji's tired – we're tired – and, so, no, I'd prefer you didn't come over, because I'd prefer we just have a quiet night."
His head rested against the frame at that and he stared at her. "What about the weekend? Brian said I could come."
She rubbed at her eyebrow again and shrugged, pulling out her chair and sitting down. "You'll have to take that up with him."
"Yea, well, it's your birthday thing. So if you don't want me to come …?"
Olivia exhaled and found his eyes. "Jack, you're too grown up to be playing these games with him. And, I'm really not going to play these games with you here."
He still just looked at her. He didn't say anything, so Olivia tried starting in on getting her computer fired up and files opened and running down the list of what she needed – and needed everyone else to – get done that day. She hoped he'd take the hint – and drop it – and leave.
"I'm sorry I made fun of Jamin's birthday cake," he said.
Olivia rolled her eyes and found his. "That's not what this is about."
"OK, then I'm sorry that – whatever – I got Jamin all pissy the other weekend. But it was like more than a week ago. C'mon. You're all giving me the cold shoulder. It wasn't that big of deal."
Olivia glared at him. "Close the door," she put to him firmly. He stared right back – no moving. "Come inside and close the door," she pressed even more directly.
He sighed – like he realized he'd pushed it too far. And regretted that he had. But he did step inside and slow pressed the door shut behind him. Olivia could see Amanda carefully watching from her desk.
"Mom—"
But she cut him off. "Listen," she pressed hard.
He stared at her. And then he crossed his arms – trying to look bigger and tougher than he was. And she just drilled her eyes right back at him.
"Jack," she stayed firm. "I know Benji being sick scares you. I know starting your first job isn't easy. I know you are in a challenging relationship. But, you are an adult – and I am not doing this any more."
"Doing what anymore?" he spat back at her.
She sat back in her chair and shook her head at him. "You aren't going to come home and make little jabs at Brian. He is my husband and my best friend. He is Benji and Emily's father. He is loved in our family – and he's earned it. And, whatever you think or feel about him in a given moment, Jack – he has been a good friend and support to you too.
"You aren't going to tease Benji about his limitations right now. There's not going to be little comments about his being tired or in pain. Not about hockey or basketball or comic books or his art. There's not going to be any more comments about what we eat – especially when we're trying to do something special for the kids and they're so excited. You aren't just teasing them, Jack. You're bursting their bubbles – and you're bursting mine and Brian's.
"And you might not care, Jack – but Brian and I, we're really struggling with all this too. With our child – being sick, hurting and there only being so much we can do to help him or comfort him. Not being able to fix it for him.
"There's not going to be the 'eww, gross' or innuendo comments about Brian and mine's relationship. Benji and Emily know we have sex. I don't need my six-year-old telling me that my husband puts his penis in my vagina and I really – really - don't need her telling her entire class that either. But, their openness and willingness to verbalize that, Jack, just means they're a whole lot more comfortable with sex and sexuality than you. That's telling about you – and your issues. Not about the ways we talk about love, sexuality, biology or family with our children.
"And, you giving all these little jabs about it – and that very healthy part of our relationship – it annoys me and Brian. It's incredibly immature. But, you are confusing Benji. You are trying really hard to make it seem abnormal or uncomfortable or 'gross' for him. And it's not. He has parents who love each other and who love him – even if we didn't 'make' him. And, we can't – I can't – continue with the broken record player about the biology and genetics of making babies and lupus - and why we aren't his biological parents and if he'd be sick if we were and if this is your sister's fault. It is driving holes into my heart, Jack. And I'm done.
"And, if you can't – or won't – fix some of these habits we've let go on with you far, far too long then you're done too, Jack. You're right – the answer will be 'no' when it comes to if you're wanted there for family activities. Because if you're only going to make everyone … uncomfortable and upset … and leave an emotional minefield for us to wade through – all of us, Jack, not just Benji – no, Jack. We don't want you there if that's the way it's going to continue to be."
He just kept staring at her. His face lax and eyes sad. "It's not fair," he finally said.
Olivia gave her head a little shake and a little shrug. "Life's not fair, Jack," she said. "You've had more than enough opportunity to learn that."
"And that's it," Jack said. "Life's not fair. Suck it up."
"Yes, Jack. You're twenty-five. It's time to grow up."
"Yea. I just have to what? Charge right on into adulthood?"
"You're twenty-five," she stressed at him again. "Jack, we easily – we should've – had these conversations at eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one. I have supported you – loved you, given you a safety net – for seven years. Enough."
"Right," he muttered. "My shit is just bullshit. And Jamin and Ducky? Their shit is as sweet as flowers, right?"
Olivia huffed out the absurdity of it. "Benji and Emmy are children, Jack."
"And they get a childhood," he muttered again. "A fucking house and fancy schools and vacations. Parents."
She cocked her head at him. "Jack, you know their situations – and childhoods – are not the same as yours. And don't diminish the circumstances or challenges either of them had – or will be carrying with them the rest of their lives. Brian and I are doing the best we can to help guide them into people we'd like to be around and to see contributing to our society as twenty, twenty-five, thirty-year-old adults."
"Right, so not people like me," he said. "Because my dad – my Fake Dad – didn't give me a childhood. But your Fake Kids, they get one. But not me. Because I'm not even really your fake kid, right?"
Olivia exhaled and stared down at her desk composing herself for a long beat. "Jack, your father – the man who raised you and loved you – did the best he could. You had a childhood. You had to grow up too soon – and I understand that's deeply affected you. But, your childhood – and your relationship with it - is not something I can fix for you. The best I can do – what I have been trying to do – is to make sure you're still a part of a family. And, that maybe you could relive some of those childhood experiences – ones you had and ones you missed out on - through Benji and Emily."
"Only I'm not welcome over," he said. "I just … whatever … stress everyone out and piss everyone off."
"Lately, yes," she agreed, staring at him purposefully. "But that's your M.O., Jack. When you're hurting – you want all of us to hurt. I can't – I won't – tolerate that right now. We're all hurting. We're all scared. Enough."
He just glared at her – but she could see his eyes were glassy and he was fidgeting.
"Renee mustn't approve of this behavior we're seeing out of you lately," she said.
He shook his head. "She's not talking to me really right now either."
"Ahh …," Olivia allowed.
"You don't need to do some kind of told-you-so," Jack muttered.
She allowed a little shrug and sat back again at her desk. "You do this too, Jack," she said. "After each relationship – after you broke up with Christina-"
"I said don't," he cut her off more forcibly. He really caught her eyes that time and clutched even more harshly at his bicep. "And me and Renee aren't broken up. She's just …"
She just stared at him. Kept his eyes. But she didn't press it. She wished he'd talk to her more about this, but he didn't. Actually, maybe she really wished … he hadn't gotten involved with Renee. She hated saying that – thinking that – but she wasn't sure either of them were good for each other with where either of them were in their lives, their personalities and maturity levels. And their trauma and abilities to handle and navigate that when it came to a significant other. It all just … it felt so much more complicated than she thought Jack was capable of. And, another part of her, just also wouldn't wish Jack's problems, trauma and baggage onto Renee. Olivia wouldn't say she deserved better – but she certainly didn't need the extra load to carry or to find herself feeling responsible for managing Jack's issues.
"Mom, please. Just let me come home. For your birthday. For the weekend. Let me take the garden unit …"
She shook her head slowly. "No, Jack," she said a little more gently.
He made a little sound and looked down at the ground. But she'd seen the flicker in his eyes. He was struggling to hold it together. She knew it.
"I'll pay the money you want," he said. "I'll figure it out."
"No, Jack," she said again. "Brian and I don't want a tenant down there right now – that's why we don't have one. And when we get one, it's likely going to be a woman, Jack."
"What if Renee moves in with me …," he offered meekly.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "You're going to move in together when right now you aren't even communicating with each other? That doesn't sound very smart, Jack."
He cast her a hurt look. "I'll be able to help more – if I'm there. I'll help more."
"I'd like that," she said. "You helping more – not you living in the lower unit, Jack. But, first you need to really stop – calm down – and think about what, as an adult man, you want your relationship to be with this family to be. With the people in it – with me, with Benji, with Emily, with Brian. I know I don't want that relationship to be one of a tenant, helper or babysitter, Jack. So you're really going to need to work on some of the things I outlined before. And, I'm going to need you to educate yourself on lupus - to at least try to understand what Benji is going through. The 'cool big brother-uncle' thing isn't working anymore. He's his own person with his own personality and interests and baggage, Jack. You need to learn to be an adult in his life. And an adult in how you interact with me and Brian too – about all of this. We don't like just seeing the man when you bring a girl over. We aren't really getting to see you then either."
Olivia saw his nostrils flare a bit but he kept staring at the floor.
"And, Jack, part of your problem is Renee isn't a girl – she's very much a woman. Growing up is going to help you there too."
It got a small, fleeting glance but all that got muttered was, "So that's still a no on your birthday? And the weekend?"
Olivia sighed hard at that and stared at him. That was the response of a child again. But she didn't need to press it further with him. There was a knock on the door and Amanda pushed it open slowly, nudging Jack out of the way. He startled a bit and rubbed his sleeve against his eyes before crossing his arms tight again.
"Liv, Sheena Larouso is here. Tim's mom …," she said, giving Jack a bit of a glance and he pressed at his eyes again.
Olivia nodded and rose from her desk, giving Jack a little nod toward the door. "Go to work," she ordered evenly. He stared at her with a slow inhale and exhale. But she went to the door and held it more open for him, gesturing with her arm that time. "You can call me tonight," she added.
He sighed at her heavily but nudged around Amanda and out the door, staring at his feet, beyond giving Sheena Larouso a quiet glance as he trudged toward the elevator. Sheena gave him a nervous look – having likely caught his watery eyes and defeated body language. Not exactly the precedent Olivia wanted to set for people waiting to come into her office. And Sheena's vaguely terrified eyes communicated just as much as she looked to her; she clearly was second-guessing her decision to come in.
"Mrs. Larouso," Olivia greeted and held open the door more as Amanda took leave. "I'm so glad you came in …"
The woman nudged inside. But she looked like she was a caged mouse now searching for an escape route. Instead, though, she seemed to settle on the couch Olivia gestured at. She clutched her purse to her chest.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," Sheena almost whispered.
Olivia shook her head, as she took a seat down from her. "Please, no," Olivia said. "That was my son. He knows to expect interruptions when he drops in unannounced."
Sheena nodded but was staring off across her desk and to the photo frames along the tops of the bookshelves and filing cabinets back there. Olivia had definitely gone through periods where she put the photos away – or at least turned them to be out of the sight lines of visitors to her office. But lately she'd been trying to more proudly display her family – what she'd worked for, for herself. Not for the victims or the city or justice – for her. And she had pride in that achievement – just as she did in their achievements. The stability they brought with their manic instability.
"You have children …," Sheena mumbled again.
Olivia rubbed her eyebrow. "Yes," she allowed. "Three."
"Boys?" Sheena asked, giving her this weak look of hopeful hopelessness, like she might just have some kind of answers that was going to fix this for her – her son, her family – and make it alright.
"Two boys," she nodded. "And a little girl."
Sheena allowed a small smile at that. "How old …?"
"Ah …," Olivia let slip out.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked that …," Sheena sputtered a bit and clutched her bag a bit tighter, pulling her eyes away from the photo frames she'd been taken in from that distance.
"It's OK," Olivia allowed. "Jack, he's grown," she said and gestured slightly at the door her oldest had exited. "My other two are eleven and six."
Sheena looked at her – took her in. "So … so, you know …" she pressed out slowly and weakly, her eyes glassing even more than Jack's had.
Olivia allowed a little nod and placed her hand over top the woman's. It was shaking.
"I know Timothy has been through so much," she said. "And I know he can held dozens of other boys if you let him talk to us; testify in court."
Sheena let out a shaky breath and went back to staring at the photos – and whatever she was reading into the smiling pictures and reminds that Olivia had chosen to display. The image of her family that she brought into work.
And she steadied herself to try to convince this woman how much better her son would feel after facing his predator. The kind of closure going to court would bring him and her family – and countless other families. The justice they might get. And how Timothy would be OK – with years of therapy and services – help – that she was going to help her and her son access.
But more and more that just felt like empty promises – if not outright lies. Ones being perpetuated by the smiling faces in those photo frames, when the reality was that Olivia knew her family – as a whole and individually – were a clear indication that none of that was true. That the scars persisted and the trauma lurked. That putting down the baggage of a childhood that contained abuse and neglect wasn't something that every seemed to happen – no matter how much you purposefully worked on it. And that working through the trauma of sexual assault, rape and molestation just took it to an inhumane level. You don't deal. It doesn't get better. You just learn to function within that normal. To smile for the photographs while behind closed doors you were just as teary as Sheena was right now on that couch.
AUTHOR NOTE:
Might bump around non-consecutively to write some 'fun' scenes/chapters.
Have a Jack/Alex chapter planned. Not sure if it will be Jack or Alex POV. Though, might do a Jack/Cragen chapter instead using a similar concept. Have a Jack/Renee chapter planned that will likely be Jack POV. Have a Liv/Alex chapter planned that will likely be a Liv POV. Have some thoughts on Liv/Brian moments. Undecided on if I'm going to do an moments from Liv's birthday. Thought maybe Brian and the kids, Brian supervising them making presents for Liv might be fun.
But next chapter might be back in Best Laid Plans to just do something a bit lighter.
