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.

Jack outwardly groaned as he stomped up the stairs to his walk-up studio (aka – his storage closet that was pretty clearly masquerading as a studio apartment by Manhattan standards when he was pretty sure the fucking master suite in Mom and Brian's place had more square footage than he got for his fucking $1575 a month). And just to make him think about that more, there was Brian sitting in the stairwell, staring at his phone. Just what he fucking needed. The guy glanced up at him from whatever he was fixated on.

"Don't you have somewhere to be," Jack grumbled at him, as he forcibly stepped around him. Pretty much purposely near whacking him in the head with his messenger bag and then his bag of Chipolte.

Got no comment, though. Fucking Brian just stood up like him getting there was some kind of invitation for him to come in. Fuck that too.

"Yea, I do," Brian said. "In like an hour. So I'm killing some time."

"Can't you do that somewhere else," Jack muttered, as he got up to his door and fished out his keys. Worked at jiggling the lock open. The security of this place fucking sucked. Sometimes it gave him fucking anxiety. Like the randos and solicitors wasn't enough to cause that – Brian sure fucking was.

Brian tapped some Tupperware into his chest like that was some kind of answer or response to him getting the hell away from him and out of his space.

"Cheesecake," Brian said.

Jack looked at it but didn't take it. "So you can't afford to get Jamin birthday edibles but you can afford a fucking Junior's sampler?" he pressed – and then pressed the door open.

Brian just cocked his head at him, all annoyed like. Didn't say shit. Just followed him in – so fucking uninvited. And pushed by him that time to go and set it on the counter of his 'kitchen'. Yea, 'kitchen'.

"Liv knows how you feel about cheesecake," Brian said. "So since you didn't get a slice…"

Jack could hear him opening the little bar fridge that he had in the kitchen – checking it out for space and contents and then closing the door and dropping it on the counter instead. There was stuff in the fridge. Like condiments and maybe some milk and a carton of OJ. Maybe. It was likely there but expired. It wasn't like he was eating there much. Because there wasn't exactly space to cook. Basically condiments from takeout and maybe some milk for cereal and a swig of OJ was pretty much filled the fridge anyway.

"And she didn't want the leftovers in the house."

Jack trudged up the little, narrow, cramped entryway after dropping his bag, shucking his shoes and peeling off his top layer of hoodie. Brian was giving his apartment a real good look around. Fuck that too.

"And maybe I don't want leftovers that have been sitting at room temperature all fucking day," Jack said. "And, maybe if she thought I might like a slice, you know, I should've been invited over for cake."

Brian just cocked his head real hard again. Glared at him. "One - we've got all these crazy workplace amenities at the office – like lunchrooms. They've even got these insane fucking inventions called refrigerators. So, you know, maybe as a grown man, it occurred to me to put the fucking cheesecake in there for the day. And also miraculously – as the fucking boss – no one ate it. Lucky for you. And two, Jack, don't be a fucking ass-hat. We called you. We told you we were home Sunday. Clearly invited you over for dinner and cake. And, you clearly didn't show. Again."

"Well, Mom made pretty clear wasn't all that welcome."

"Yea, Jack, because you can't seem to put your fucking big boy pants on lately."

"You can go," Jack muttered at him, pushing by him again to slump onto the futon and start digging out his burrito.

Brian didn't move. Just stood there in that invisible boundary between the kitchen and living space. Just stared at him. Glared at him. Whatever.

"Live in this neighborhood and you're eating fucking Chipolte," Brian nodded at him.

Jack just took a large bite. Of his burrito. Not the fucking commentary.

"Know you could do a lot better for a lot cheaper," Brian added. "Especially when you're crying poor all the time about finding a way out of this place."

Jack just kept chewing. Still wasn't biting.

Brian went and leaned against the ladder that lead up to the loft that pretty much could fit a mattress – not a bedframe. And you better damn well just be fucking propelling yourself into bed from the top of the ladder. Not expecting to stand or stoop or even really crawl over to it. Basically not even expecting to sit up in bed without the top of your head hitting the ceiling.

Brian glanced up there at the bedroom anyway. Gave it another look and then gave Jack another examination – and the fucking living space.

"Take it you and Renee haven't sorted your shit out yet with the way you've got it looking like a dump in here," Brian put flatly.

"You're one to talk," Jack said. "Remember – I saw both your and Mom's places pre-Jamin. She didn't have food or own pots. And your place was a fucking shithole."

"Aww shucks, thanks for remembering," Brian cocked his head at him again.

Jack shook his head. "Renee never comes over here anyway. You know, if she's alone with me at my place I might decide I'm gonna rape her or something."

And it was like someone took the oxygen out of the room. Jack felt it. More like he could feel the holes Brian's eyes were boring into him with that comment. Jack didn't look at him. He couldn't with the way the room had changed. And it hung there for too fucking long. Long enough that Jack didn't even feel like he was allowed to breath.

"You saying shit like that – diminishing what she went through in that way, Kid – makes me think you sure don't have a chance in hell of mending fences with her. And you don't fucking deserve to either."

Jack gave him the slightest glance. He could still feel him fucking staring at him. Glaring at him. But the glance showed enough that Brian was pissed. And he quickly looked away. Took a real good interest in his burrito again. Took a real big bite. Tried to ignore him.

"Jack, what the fuck is going on with you lately," Brian said. Finally. Finally stopping glaring at him. "I feel like I'm talking to a fucking twelve year old every time I try to have a conversation with you. Fuck – Jack, I don't get as much attitude and tween-y tantrums out of Ben as I do you."

Jack just gave him a look. "Fuck you," he said flatly.

Brian just shook his head and crossed his arms, leaning against the ladder more. "Yea, fuck me. I'm the asshole here."

Jack gave him a shrug and gestured back at the door. "There's the door."

That just got his head cocked again. "Kid, seriously. I feel like we've had this conversation on repeat for like seven years. I really don't care what the fuck you think of me. I'd like to think I've earned being treated a bit better than you fucking treat me. But whatever. Fine. But I really do fucking care how you make Liv and the kids feel. And whatever the fuck is going on these last like six weeks, two months – it's just …"

Brian shook his head and exhaled. The guy stared at the floor in front of him.

"You're alienating them – us, Jack," Brian said flatly and then looked at him. "It's not just Liv and Ben. You had Ducky real fucking confused this weekend why you weren't around."

Jack shrugged. "Because Mom didn't want me there for her birthday."

Brian kept his eyes. "You know that's not the fucking intent behind the conversation you had with Liv. And that's not what I tell my six-year-old, Jack. Not when she's asking if you just don't come to birthdays anymore. We're going two-oh here, Jack. What's the plan for Halloween? Thanksgiving? Your birthday? Christmas? You just going to keep – whatever the fuck this is – going? You punishing us? Or are you punishing yourself?"

Jack just took another bite. Brian stared at him.

"We need you to grow up, Jack," he said. "You need to tell us what the fuck is going on. And we need to figure out a way to fix it."

And he just chewed. And Brian scrubbed at his face.

"Kid," he sighed at him as he brought his hands down. "Me and Liv – we're hanging by a thread here. OK? We're tired. We're hurting. We're scared. We're doing a whole lot of juggling trying to … I don't even fucking know what we're trying to do at this point. But I do know we don't have the time or energy to keep doing this with a fucking twenty-five year-old. So, I'm fucking telling you – I've tried, she's tried – and for me, this is likely gonna be the last time I reach out for a good while. After right now, Kid, the ball's in your court."

Jack shrugged. "OK," he said.

Brian exhaled all exaggerated and slow. Just kept looking at him. "OK," he acknowledged. Finally.

And then he exhaled again. But finally pushed himself up from where he was leaning and stuffed his hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out some pamphlets. He came over and dropped them on the futon next to Jack. Jack gave them a glance. They were medical pamphlets about lupus and shit.

"So me and Liv decided we're going ahead with the immunoglobulin therapy for Ben," Brian said flatly. "We've let the upper ranks know today to get things in motion. We were gonna talk to you about it last night," he provided and gave him another head shake and a shrug – clearly about him not showing. "So I swung by the kids' hospital and picked that shit up for you. So you can educate yourself. There will be a pre-op type thing with the docs before the treatment. Won't have time for you to get a More You Know spiel on lupus from the doc – but if you want to come and sit in and listen, let us know."

Jack gave the pamphlets a little finger. Just sweeping at them enough to fan them out so he could actually see what's there.

"And, don't know if you talked to Alex over the weekend," Brian muttered, "but she's put out an invite for us to head up to Sleepy Hollow next weekend with her clan to do some of the Halloween stuff. We're going to go if Ben's feeling up to it."

"As usual …" Jack said under his breath.

And it caught another glare from Brian. "Yea. As usual. This is the new normal, Jack." And they caught eyes. Played chicken for a long beat. "There's enough tickets if you want to come. That's Saturday. I was hoping that you might want to work at smoothing some stuff out with the kids before that – and do me a soild that would get you a step toward being back in Liv's good grace's too – and do some babysitting and bedtime routine for us on Friday night so I can take Liv out for a belated birthday dinner. Sleepover, join us Saturday."

Jack just went back to examining his burrito. Picking the next best spot to take a bit.

"Yea, OK," Brian muttered. "If you could let me know by like tomorrow night. My mom will watch them if your schedule is too overloaded."

Jack just gave him a look – a glare – at that.

Brian shook his head a bit at him. But finally moved like he was going to leave. Even took a step or two in the right direction. But then he just stopped. He just stood there. Jack stared at his back. The guy stared at the floor.

"We aren't so different, John Paul," he finally said evenly. Flatly. Quietly. And then he turned just a bit to look back at Jack again.

And Jack looked at him. He stared. He processed. He tried to figure out if Brian had ever used his full name before. Mom did. Sometimes. A real sometimes. Just a handful of times. When she was really trying to get his attention or connect with him. And Jack could tell that was what Brian was doing now.

"And I don't know if it's Ben or you not loving the new job or you feeling a whole lot for a girl in a whole new way that's setting you off. Or if it's just all that happening at the same time that's more than you've got the resources to handle. But, Kid – I get it. I've been there. And I've got some real worries and concerns about where you're headed if you don't figure out how to get your head out of your ass and on straight."

"You don't know shit …" Jack said quietly.

Brian exhaled and stared at the floor again. His hands buried deep in his pockets.

"I know that if you ever want to grab a burger or play some Playstation and talk about what your uncle did to you – or any of the things you haven't been ready to tell us that he did to you – I can listen, Jack. And talk it through with you. And we can figure it out as a family. Try to figure out a way to help you get through it so you can fix things with Renee a bit."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jack gave him a disgusted look. But then looked away.

"Yea, sure," Brian muttered.

And just kept his eyes on him – Jack could feel them even though he'd gone to looking out the window into the dying leaves of the tree in the back garden. About the only decent thing about this place was that he didn't look right into another wall out the window.

"I know that with me and Liv," Brian said. "The biggest bumps we've had in our relationship and as a family, even in the hiccups we've had with our gigs – a lot of it's been personal shit we weren't willing to bear our souls about. So kept it hidden, buried. Had to really work on learning to talk and communicate – and trust – we still do, to get through the fucking … bad patches. Kid, my twenties – good chunk of my thirties – it was a bad patch. Don't do that to yourself. Waste of time and waste of your life. OK?"

Jack gave him a glance but then worked at peeling back the foil on his burrito more. Got it folded down real nice.

"OK …," Brian finally said and really took a step for the door that time. Mulitple steps. Got right up to it, pulled it open and looked back one last time. "So drop me a line tomorrow about if you want to do Friday. Saturday. Kids would like to see you. Miss you. Liv and me do too."

And then Jack heard the door shut. And he tossed the burrito smack into the wall just feet in front of him. Watching it spatter there and thud to the ground.

And he pressed his fingers into his eyes – telling himself it was the hot sauce on them that was making them sting and water so.

It wasn't.

AUTHOR NOTE:

Reviews, comments and feedback appreciated.