Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments

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: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.

PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.

TIMEFRAME: Set in January 2020.

Please note: The Hank Voight (and his family and the other CPD characters referenced) are as explored and depicted in my CPD AU stories, which start with Interesting Dynamics, if you're interested.

Olivia opened the front door and offered Hank Voight a bit of a smile. She wouldn't say he smiled back. But Olivia also wouldn't say in the limited interactions she had with the Chicago sergeant she'd gotten much of an impression that he smiled. Though, she had caught a few glimpses of tugs at the sides of his mouth when she'd been in Chicago. But those little tugs had been reserved for his children – not much of anything else happening in front of him. Though, there'd perhaps been an almost moment when she'd gotten a smile from him when she'd complimented his city – and the unexpected beauty it did have with its lake views and varied architecture. But she also suspected that small moment had more to do with the whiskey he had in his hand and some memory her comment had stirred in him.

She understood, though. She knew that few people would feel Brian smiled much. Actually, she wouldn't be surprised if Erin Lindsey had reported back to her father exactly that – that Brian, as her boss, never looked very happy. But on that kind of job – working those kinds of cases – there was never much of an opportunity for smiles either.

Olivia knew that many people would probably say the same for her. She knew as a detective she had her moments of camaraderie and ribbing with the guys in the bullpen that had brought out jokes and wit and sarcasm and jabs and little pranks that would've caused her to crack a grin. That Elliot sometimes brought that out in her – or the 'gotcha' moments she had when she got the better of him did it too.

But since taking command of SVU the times she could smile on the job – find moments to joke – had become fewer and fewer. She doubted very much that new blood like Kat thought she was much of a happy person. Even Amanda likely questioned it at times. There just wasn't a time or place for it.

Her smiles – and jokes and silliness – was reserved for at home. With her kids. With Brian when he wasn't in one of his moods. And she wasn't in one of hers.

And this was home. This was social. Apparently. So maybe the least she could do was offer Hank Voight a smile. And maybe the least he could do was offer one back. But she wasn't sure that look on his face was anything near reciprocal.

"Hi, welcome," she offered still, and held the door, gesturing for him to come in.

"Hope I'm not landing on your doorstep too early," he said. It almost sounded like an apology – even if his tone didn't reflect it as one. But he stepped in and offered her a bottle of wine. So at least that was some kind of hospital concession, though she suspected that he'd gotten the wine from just around the corner and hadn't gone out of his way.

"Thank you," she said, pointing at the coat rack that was in their little foyer. If you could call it that. It was more like a closet you walked through before going out the door.

It was completely overflowing with the kids' winter gear at the moment – including four pairs of hockey skates and the shovel that Brian seemed to think someone would steal off their stoop if they left it outside.

Olivia was also acutely aware that based on the two times she'd set foot inside Hank Voight's Chicago home – it had looked nowhere near as chaotic. Though, she knew it was just him and his youngest son that lived in the house. And Ethan wasn't a small child. Though, she thought he couldn't have been too much older than Benji now back when she'd actually met him. And Benji certainly managed to leave a trail of breadcrumbs indicating his ever-presence in her life and in the house every day. Literally and figuratively.

Maybe things weren't quite as organized in Hank's home now that she knew he had a gaggle of grandchildren in his life. But maybe not. She'd gotten a bit of a sense that he was a definite neat-freak who liked things just a certain way.

Olivia wasn't sure she'd ever fit that mould. Even the parts of her that maybe previously had on some levels had all but given up on it after having two grade-school-aged children. Combined that with the kind of hours her and Brian kept. It all just yielded exhaustion. Keeping the house spotless – or even particularly tidy – wasn't worth it most days. She'd more than settled into living in a house that looked lived-in at that point. Organized chaos was about as good as it ever got around their home.

She was sure some people had cast judgements on them because of that. But it also wasn't like they had a parade of people through their house. Or much of a social life. Though, she was sure that some people who were in and out were surprised at just how bad they let it get sometimes. Sometimes she even surprised herself with just how bad she let it get sometimes. But most people reserved comment. Or their commentary was to start tidying or offering to help with cooking or the dishes or offering up babysitting services if they needed some time to do chores or errands without the kids underfoot. Sometimes Olivia took Brian's mom or Cragen and Eileen up on that. But she wouldn't say that she necessarily used the time to do chores or errands – so much as she did to have a few hours of silence in the house or to actually eat a real grown-up meal out that maybe included a drink at the bar or a nightcap in the process.

So she was just going to stick with organized chaos for Hank Voight too. Just like she was also going to stick with the fact she'd come in the door and changed into her Mom Uniform – jeans and a well-worn sleeved t-shirt. But she'd decided it was too cold in the house – because it always was. But she'd also been too in the midst of trying to organize her chaos that she hadn't ever actually gone upstairs to retrieve one of her sweaters. Instead (further illustrating the kind of week they'd been having), she'd just pulled on a hoodie that had been draped over the back of the sofa … for days. She wasn't even entirely sure if it was Brian's or Jack's – because as much as they hated to admit it neither of them differentiated that much in their affinity for over-sized, black, hooded sweatshirts.

Jack still brought enough of his laundry home – and left it like he thought he was being very covert in his avoidance of the Laundromat. The trick was on him that some of the items ultimately ended up claimed and worn and rewashed again before he dragged himself back over to Brooklyn to collect his folded laundry. She actually thought some of the black hoodies that had ended up on Brian's side of the closet were actually Jack's and they were just so similar that neither of them ever really noticed. Or were refused to acknowledge it – out of fear of actually acknowledging the two of them were not quite as different as they wanted to think at the best of times.

So this was it. Bared and raw. A typical weeknight in her home life. The only thing untypical was that they actually had dinner company – and who that company was. So Hank would just have take it for what it was worth. And pass whatever judgement he wanted – about what it meant about her as a person or a woman or a cop of a mother. Or what it meant to be a New Yorker. Or another one of these Manhattanites who ended up in a Brooklyn neighborhood like Carroll Gardens for her children's childhoods.

But what could he really want or expect? It wasn't like she'd known that morning she was going to have a dinner guest. Hank hadn't even told her he was in town.

Not that it sounded like he'd told Brian either. More that he'd just shown up. Though, she got the impression that maybe Brian had been given some hint that the appearance might be pending based on a text from Erin Lindsey. Olivia wasn't sure that that kind of drop-in would've prompted her to issue a dinner invite. But apparently Brian had decided that was the appropriate social norm. Brian was never the best judge of those kinds of things either.

Case-and-point – this unexpected dinner party that wasn't going to be much of a dinner party at all.

Brian would be getting an earful later. Especially since he'd organized this when he was already running late. So the text she'd gotten was one that brought her into the loop of what he'd just organized – by informing her she got to be the one who handled the rest of the organization, which meant making dinner.

So she'd been home all of twenty minutes at that point, which had pretty much consisted of walking in the door and just kicking the kids' junk out of the immediate living space. So what Hank Voight saw was what he got – and same with what he got served for dinner - and there wasn't much anyone could do about it. She wasn't feeling like – or being – much of a hostess. At least not with the most-est.

"Not at all," she said. That was a truth. But it was an absolute lie about his 'early' arrival. He couldn't have been late enough – in reality.

"Did you find the place OK?" she asked, though, glancing out the door. It didn't look like he had a rental car with him. Or at least hadn't snagged a spot in the immediate vicinity.

"Yea," he allowed, as he attempted to find a place to put his leather jacket before ultimately just settling to nearly throw it on top of everything else. Brian used that method too. "Nice little neighborhood here. Italian villlage?"

"Umm … it used to be," she agreed with a nod. She wasn't entirely sure what he might've seen that would've clued him into that. But there were still enough shops and cafes on the main streets in the area that screamed it. And they definitely had a few elderly neighbors on their block that more than screamed it. Though, she'd argue that most of her neighborhood – and neighbors – screamed young, upwardly mobile, high-paid 'elder' Millennial parents with strollers, toddlers and grade school children to the point that she almost cringed too.

He just made a sound of acknowledgement. "Not what I picture when thinking of New York," he said, removing his boots. "Feels a bit like home out there."

She allowed him a smile at that. She'd been very aware that his home had been just bordering Little Italy in his home city. His street had actually seemed like one of the last in the area that had older homes on it that hadn't entirely been absorbed by the condo projects she'd seen popping up around his city. She saw that happening in Brooklyn too. But Carroll Gardens seemed to be living in a nice little bubble for now. They'd see just how long that lasted. Hopefully until the kids were grown – and out of the house. And her and Brian could move back into the city.

Because "It's not exactly what I picture either," she agreed. "But it's worked out well for while the kids are little. Best of both worlds."

"Mmm …," he grunted. "You were in Manhattan, weren't you? How long you been this side of the river?"

"Ah …," Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow and did some mental math as she lead him into the house – trying to pinpoint how old the kids were when they made the move. "Just over four years."

He grunted again and gestured back to the door. "How's that work? This a duplex?"

"Technically," she allowed. "There's a garden apartment." He must've seen the lower entrance when he'd come up to their front door. "But Brian and I own the whole residence. We've just used this floor – the parlor and the upper bedrooms. We've tried a tenant downstairs," but she shrugged at that. "We don't have one down there right now. And we aren't looking at the moment."

"Mmm …," he acknowledged.

"We're picky," she said. "With the kids. And our jobs."

It got another sound that he was listening. But Olivia could tell he was more looking around the place.

She found a lot of people did that when they first came in. It was like somehow people still always expected something bigger when you said you had a house in Brooklyn. But it wasn't large. At all. Her and Brian had looked at condo and co-op options in Manhattan that had more square footage than what they'd ended up with here.

Their main floor that made up their living space was open and long and narrow. One space just meshed into the next with no real definition or dividing walls to give them any kind of separation or privacy or even to cut out or contain some of the noise and chaos of two small kids at home. The upstairs – the master bedroom took up the majority of the floor. Which was fine for her and Brian but left the kids with somewhat awkwardly shaped and cramped sleeping spaces.

The room they'd initially had Emmy in before putting the kids back in the same bedroom again for now was particularly oddly shaped. Olivia suspected previous owners had likely more used it as a storage space or walk-in closet than a bedroom. But for now it made a decent play space with just barely enough room for a pullout couch in there. She wasn't sure how it would do in the future when a teen-aged child and hopefully a study desk was rammed in there.

But those had been concessions they'd made. Instead they'd gotten the back garden. The garden apartment for additional space – or additional revenue – if they needed it. And it'd been about the public school opportunities in Brooklyn – in these zones. And the proximity to Janet and Cragen and Eileen for the extra afterschool and evening and weekend help with the kids they needed given their job descriptions.

And, she really did suppose it gave them the best of both worlds. Though, she didn't necessarily think growing up a Manhattan kid would've been all bad either. But it might've been a little much for Brian's sensibilities as a parent. She knew he was likely able to be more the kind of father he imagined himself – and the kind of father she needed him to be – under the guise of a Brooklynite. A Manhattanite might've proven too much for Brian – especially if Benji and Emmy turned into little New Yorkers (more so than they already really were).

It didn't really matter. This had very much become home for all of them. It had become what their family life looked like. And they'd made the space theirs. As dated as the building was – it had been near gutted and renovated when they had put in their offer. And it had been a steal for the area – one that they hoped would pay off if and when they were ready to sell on their own. They'd put their own work and flourishes into it since they'd moved in. The kitchen and the kids' current shared bedroom. The deck and patio stones out back and the multi-purpose garden boxes (that really ended up more as excavation dig sites, sandboxes and water/mud tables than anything that grew anything most years thus far). It paid off to have a grown child versed in drafting, architecture and urban design and a husband who refused to pay for anything that he so much as thought he could do himself.

She might never have her space featured in Architectural Digest. But Olivia did take a level of pride in the layout and design of her home. It's just with two kids growing up in the space – you couldn't always exactly see the work and thought that had been put into the various elements and angles and lumber types and counter top decisions and color palettes and fixtures that made it home. It was all buried under super heroes and Hot Wheels and Lego pieces and slime and Transformers and Ninja Turtles and My Little Pony and Fingerling pets and narwhals and picture books and dissection kits and art supplies and plastic insect toys and unicorn stuffies and at-home science kits.

"Can I pour you a glass of this?" she asked of the wine as they moved toward the kitchen at the far end of their main floor. She might need one to get through this. Some nights she needed it just to get through being a Mom.

He held up his hand to decline. "Nah, nah. No thanks. Maybe a bit later."

"Water? Or coffee? We aren't really a soda or juice family," she said. "Brian might have some beer in the fridge. But I'm warning you he's gone gluten-free so no guarantees on how this 'beer' tastes."

Hank allowed slightly amused sound but shook his head. "I'm good," he said.

She could tell he was more still taking in their house. Giving it an investigator's scan and collecting information about her and her family. She knew she did that when she was in his house too – in any home she hadn't been in before really.

But she only nodded and put the wine on the counter. She could see Benji giving them a shy look as they got closer to where he was working at the dining table.

"And, you remember Benji," she said with a gesture at her son, who was visibly looking about excited by this dinner engagement as she felt.

"Sure," Hank allowed. "Hey, Kiddo. Thanks for letting me join you for a bite."

Benji just looked at him and then glanced back over at Olivia.

"Benj, this is Hank, Sergeant Voight - Erin's dad. Remember Erin from Daddy's work? She came over for dinner a few times a couple years ago."

Benji looked like he was thinking about that. Olivia wasn't sure if he didn't remember or if he was just playing shy. More than likely it was a bit of both.

"We had a barbecue lunch at Hank's house the summer when we went to visit Jack while he was working in Chicago," she tried, though that was asking him to think even further back.

"Erin was the girl with the big belly," Benji finally offered.

Hank made another amused sound at that. But it was real. "Probably about right."

Olivia gave her son a bit of a disapproving look, though. "Erin was pregnant, Benj."

"With twins," Hank added. "Babies were taking up a lot of real estate in there." Olivia allowed him a smile. "But my girl's got a bit of an appetite too. Not one to turn down a meal. So could be right about that belly."

Olivia smiled a bit at that comment. But Benji just gave the man another little glance. And didn't respond.

"OK, then," Olivia said and moved over to where Benji was working.

But she sighed as she looked down and saw he'd been drawing rather than working on the math sheet she'd asked him to start while she changed and swept the living room and tried to find something they could feed company as dinner.

But she knew her little boy was tired and down. He always was by the time they hit Thursday. Then on the days she had to pull him out of school early to go in for the rigmarole that was his lab work, he usually looked like he was ready to crawl into bed by the time they got home. But Brian clearly hadn't considered that when he'd opened his mouth either. That was Brian. Years later – and sometimes he still just didn't know when to shut his mouth.

Still she brushed at her little boy's forehead. He definitely hadn't picked up and started mimicking that trait from his Daddy. As much as Benji could babble and try his best at tween talk-back, he also knew how to play shy almost too well – especially when he was exhausted. So she just planted a light kiss there as he looked up to her. And then she started to close and gather his schoolwork off the table.

"Tidy this up and then go change and wash up," she said.

"Jammies?" he whispered at her – almost pleadingly but with a touch of embarassment.

"Why don't you ask Sergeant Voight if he cares if you eat dinner in your pyjamas?" she put to him.

Benji gave her a little sigh and gave Hank another shy, uncomfortable glance. But Hank only shrugged at him.

"No skin off my back," he said.

So she nudged Benji a bit. "Go …," she encouraged. "Quiet time upstairs until dinner."

Benji slid out of his seat and very nearly – and very cautiously – almost snuck by Hank, who seemed to notice and gave him plenty of space. Olivia listened until she heard his socked feet nearly at the top of the stairs.

"Sorry," she allowed, as she moved back into the kitchen, grabbing a magnet to place Benji's latest drawing on the fridge. A winged, unicorn zebra with fangs battling a fire-breathing three-headed snake? There had to be some kind of messaging there, but she wasn't sure she really wanted to know. She'd go with maybe it was just a drawing for his sister – and hopefully not one based on some kind of bicker they'd had going on before and he was trying to get another reaction out of Emmy. "He's always cautious around adult men he's not familiar with."

"Mmm," Hank acknowledged – but she could tell he'd clocked that and was considering it. "He's getting big," was the next thing that came out of his mouth. And she knew that was a bit of a lie. Though, maybe not so much since the last time Hank had seen him – which had been years ago. But compared to the rest of the kids in his class – and school – her son was among the smallest and wasn't showing any signs of even catching up to the most average among the student body. "Spitting image of his pops."

Olivia offered a slight smile. "We hear that a lot," she acknowledged. She wasn't sure there were as many features as people thought. It was the fair skin and comparing Benji's strawberry-tinged hair against the bits of auburn that still existed in Brian's hair.

"Remember your little girl took right after Mom," he said like he maybe thought he'd hit a sore spot.

Olivia only shrugged, as she got back to trying to finish what she'd started in the kitchen. "We hear that too," she said.

"Think she was still it diapers last time I saw her," Hank offered.

"Mmm …" Olivia allowed and the oven a quick check. He was getting a sheet pan dinner that likely wasn't so different than what she would've been serving on a Thursday night to her kids. And Brian better not make a comment or a face about that being what was being served company on the amount of notice she was getting.

"Likely," she agreed after determining that everything looked like it was still going to be edible. "Emily's six now – almost seven, going on at least seventeen. She's a force of nature."

"Can't say I'm surprised having met Mom," Hank said.

She allowed him a thin smile but examined the stove top for a long moment.

"There something I can help you out with in the kitchen," Hank offered.

"Ahh, no," Olivia said shaking her head out of it and gave him another thin smile and just gestured at the oven. "I was just deciding if I was going to cook some rice. Emmy's decided to become a bit of a picky eater lately. It's a …" she sighed and shook her head. "Attention seeking thing."

Clearly it was because Emmy thought her brother was getting too much attention and too much catering too. And it wasn't exactly that Emmy was wrong. It was a hard balance with two children – and one who was chronically ill and had learning challenges and social challenges and trauma all combined with dietary restrictions that all affected the whole family. So Emmy had decided refusing to eat pretty much anything on the table that was clearly made because of Benji by indicating she wasn't going to even think about eating it. And her and Brian hadn't quite figured out how to deal with that. Saying they weren't a restaurant only worked so well – when they were catering to one child all the time and not the other. It was unfair. For everyone.

"So I was thinking of ways to save you from the dinner and a show of our usual mealtime battles," was all Olivia provided to Hank, though.

But Hank just made another sound of acknowledgement that bordered on amused. "Think I'm used to that show. Got a grandson who thinks the only two food groups in existence are hot dogs and potato chips. Can't say Popa agrees with him so much on that when I've got the family sitting down to Sunday dinner."

Olivia smiled. "That sounds like quite the battle of the wills."

"Yea," Hank gave. "But I'll give you a wild guess on who ultimately wins."

That got a real smile. She wasn't sure she believed that Hank Voight would let a preschooler win. But she also might've thought she wouldn't be that kind of pushover either. Children, however, had made her realize that there were some nights – days, weeks, or months – were certain battles were just not worth fighting.

So she went to the cupboard. "Then I think I'll try to save you from our version of that dinner theater."

She pulled down the rice cooker and started measuring out the rice and water to get it going. It might be ready in time for dinner. And if not, it likely would be ready by the time Emmy decided she wasn't going to eat dinner but was still hungry and was going to throw a fit about having not had anything to eat.

"Didn't mean to put you out," Hank offered as she did her measuring. "Or roll in here before the guy issuing the invite got home."

She gave her head a little shake. "It's OK," she lied a little again. "Brian just got caught up in something at the end of the day. So he got assigned picking up Emmy from her after-school program too." She gave her watch a glance. "They should be home soon." It was actually more like thirty minutes. "I'm just sorry we aren't a bit more exciting or organized. I could've taken you out for a real meal in the city."

Hank made a dismissive gesture at that but accepted the glass of water her offered across the island counter. "Nah, this is fine. Not much for doing the tourist thing. Just appreciate a place to put in the time and put my feet up a bit before being screwed around at the airport for hours."

He started to wander back down the long space a bit – into the living area with the couch. But Olivia saw that he was more hovering in front of the shelving units around their entertainment center. It was another favorite spot for guests to linger – and stare at the photographs and artwork that obstructed their overflowing collections of books and records and movies. Hard-copy media they rarely used anymore but hadn't been able to rid themselves of quite yet.

"What exactly were you in New York for, Hank? A case?" she asked. She hadn't heard of anything cross-jurisdictional landing in the city at any of the latest Com-Stat meetings but when Hank was Intelligence in CPD, she supposed depending on the nature of the case and what NYPD unit might be involved – that didn't mean anything. And she supposed she really only cared so much because she actually was more set on considering if bread or salad really needed to be added – when they had company as she waited for his answer. It still hadn't come when she'd instead just settled on starting to pull the place settings out of the cupboards.

"Just wanted to sit in on part of a trial," he said – obliquely. She watched him – but she could tell that was all she was going to get. "Erin asked me to swing by the DA Investigator's Office. Grad some sentimental paper weight that apparently a fuss got put up about putting it through the mail."

"Ah …," Olivia allowed, rubbing her eyebrow. Well that was vague – and odd – too. But she could also tell it was all she was going to get. "Did you find … it …?"

"Oh, yea," he said. And then nothing more. Maybe Brian would clarify what that was all about later.

"Got to watch your guy work a bit. In the box," Hank added.

Olivia hummed some acknowledgement. "Brian's a talented interrogator. He always has been. He has a way of connecting with certain people."

Hank had a sound, still working his way along the shelves of photos.

"He's really good with kids. The older ones. Teens, twenties. Street kids, working girls, escorts, junkies. You name it. They're his people …"

Sad but true. But she supposed you all had to find some population that you connected with – that you were able to empathize with and want to fight for – if you were going to survive on this job.

"Mmm," Hank acknowledged. "Could tell. He work Gangs before? Get a lot of kids there in Chicago."

Olivia nodded at that. "He was in Narcotics for years. Then he bounced through some special assignments. Undercover. For too long."

He made an acknowledgement sound at that – if not an entirely impressed one. "Know Erin feels like she learned some from him. The gig here. Good things to say about him, the job. For the most part. Still appreciate you were able to do that for her."

Olivia gave her head a little shake. "It wasn't a problem. Brian's always looking for solid, younger cops. He's had nothing but good things to say about her and the work ethic she brought to the unit. I'm sure he'd take her back in a heartbeat. He's got some empty desks that he's been having trouble getting filled."

Hank made a sound. "I'll let her know. But think she likes the babysitting services back home too much to take him up on that offer this time around."

Olivia shrugged at that. "Had to try …" she teased.

Hank allowed a little smile and gestured at the shelf. "Quite the book collection you got here. Looks like you've got some first editions."

"Umm … yeah," Olivia acknowledged a little surprised at that observation. "My mother was actually an English professor at Columbia. The Classics. I inherited a lot of her collection when she passed."

"Mmm," Hank allowed and gave her his own impressed – though some mocked snootiness there too, but Olivia was used to that too. There's assumptions made when you're a faculty brat at a school like Columbia – especially when there's not any other context offered up about your life.

"We've beefed it up with our own classics," Olivia deflected.

"Oh, yea," Hank said. "See the Harry Potter here. Wife had that on the shelves for the kids too."

Olivia made a sound of acknowledgement. "We haven't actually made it through all of them yet."

"No?" Hank said and gestured at a photo they had there of their family with Optimus Prime and Bumblebee. "That's Universal, isn't it? Thought whole point of that place was Harry Potter Land."

Olivia made an amused sound and shook her head. "Ah, we're the abnormal ones who went specifically to see the Transformers and Super Hero Island. The blasphemy of skipping the Wizarding World is regularly brought to our attention."

Hank grunted his own sound of amusement to that. "Erin and Halstead took Ethan years back. Jurassic Park and Harry Potter Land were their objectives."

Olivia smiled a little. "Did they have fun?"

"Oh, yeah," Hank muttered, still looking at their other photos. "Ethan is pretty set on getting to be the cool uncle that takes the kiddos down. Seems to think that should happen sooner than later. But is on about Star Wars Land now."

"Mmm," Olivia allowed. "So far we've managed to skip Star Wars. We're full on a Marvel family. Apparently. It's only been since starting middle school that Star Wars' existence seems to be starting to register with Benji."

Hank made his own sound of acknowledgement. "Managed to avoid it about that long too. Halstead who corrupted my kid. And went and started the twins young in on it. Or is trying to."

That got another smile from Olivia – imaging that.

"You planning on making another trip?"

Olivia shrugged a little. "It was an add-on," she said. "My former captain, he's like a grandfather to the kids. He and his partner have a condo on the Gulf coast. So I'm sure we'll be back down. I'm just not sure we'll do the theme parks again. The kids, on the other hand, are very sure we should go again."

"Surprise …" Hank muttered, but then gestured at another shelf, "You've been with your man longer than you let on."

Olivia knew the photo he was pointing too – everyone's favorite from pushing a quarter-century ago.

"We've known each other for … getting close to twenty-five years," she said.

He made an impressed sound and gave her a look – like that surprised him.

Olivia just poured herself a glass of wine at that point and started her own wander into the living space. She didn't care that maybe it was a little rude to start the bottle without Hank joining her – or anyone else for that matter. She thought she was going to need the drink to get through this dinner event.

"We both joined Special Victims Unit around the same time. Brian left after about a year and a half."

He gave her a look. "Think I got one who did that – and ended up here while she got her head on straight about the guy and the job."

Olivia allowed a smile and took a sip of her wine. Hank hadn't skimped on what he had purchased as a hostess gift. She appreciated that.

"Well, I don't think Brian or I had quite the same things to think about as Erin had to sort through," she allowed. She could see Hank was looking at a photo of Jack and likely doing some guesstimates and mental math surrounding his age.

"That your oldest?"

"It is," she allowed. She realized that Hank hadn't ever actually met Jack. She didn't think.

"How old is he now?"

"Twenty-six … just before Christmas," she allowed. "And finally done with his education."

"Mmm … doing architecture or something?"

"He did," Olivia acknowledged. "And urban design."

"Manage to get a job?"

She allowed a sort of nod that likely more than gave away she didn't love the answer she got to give to that question. "He did – right out of school – and hated it. So he's quit and started his second. So we'll see how that goes."

Hank gave her a look that even on his face could be classified as amused. But it almost betrayed he'd been there too. And knew the feeling.

"The last eighteen months or so with him has been … a bit of a rollercoaster," she provided.

Hank grunted agreement there. "My older two – both of them, about eighteen to twenty-four, twenty-five …" he shook his head. Olivia offered him a thin smile. There was a sadness to it, because she was acutely aware that Hank's oldest sound couldn't have been more than about twenty-six or twenty-seven when he'd died. When he'd been murdered. And she couldn't imagine … she didn't want to even try.

"You're supposed to tell me it gets better," Olivia teased slightly.

He gave her a look. "Sure, just hook him up with a gig in another city when it gets to the point you need a break from them. Take it while you can get it – because only so long before they're bringing home the next generation to drive you nuts."

"Ahh …," Olivia cocked her head a bit with a shake and another eyebrow rub, really cradling that glass now. "I'm hoping that's at least another four or five years down the road. Then at least one of their aunt and uncle will be a teenager …"

Hank allowed a small sound of amusement. She knew that his youngest must've only been … maybe twelve or thirteen? … when his first grandchild was born. God. That wasn't much older than Benji. And she couldn't imagine Benji being labelled an uncle – or her being labelled a Grandma. Though, she might actually be old enough for that. But it sure didn't feel like it when she had a six-year-old at home.

"He still with that girlfriend in Chicago?" Hank asked. But there was a bit of a jabbing tease to it, she knew.

"No," Olivia allowed with a firm headshake and another sip of wine. Relief. "That had a messy ending. But he has a new girlfriend now, who lives in the city. They just moved in together about a month ago. So we'll see how that goes …"

"Mmm …," Hank said and tapped his nail against the smiling photo of her and Brian again. "Hopefully about this good – even if there's a break."

Olivia shrugged. "If there's a break rather than a break-up – hopefully it's more along the lines of what Erin did – maybe minus the pregnancy with twins. But not quite the 12 year gap Brian and I went with."

"Looks like it worked out," Hank said. "Noticed you've got a ring on your finger now."

Olivia gave it a little glance. Sometimes she still forgot it was there. Other times she found herself staring at it.

But she only gave Hank a shrug. "It only took him about eight years to figure out the right way to ask," she said.

He made an amused noise and shook his head a bit. "How many times you make him get down on his knee?"

Olivia shook her head. "He did have enough sense to never try it that way."

Hank shook his head back at her and went back to gazing at the pictures. "What way finally worked?"

"Ah, him handing me the ring and saying he'd bought it and since it cost so much he'd prefer I get to wear it even if I still didn't want to marry him," Olivia said and then pointed into the kitchen. "There, bed-head, waiting for the coffeemaker, wearing bunny ears."

That got a grunt out of Hank. Amused.

"It was Easter morning," she clarified. Though, she thought leaving that punch line out almost made the story better.

"That's about as good as the L hitting a bump and me tossing the ring at my wife. Only took knocking her up to get to say 'yes' to that proposal."

"Oh, we were much more modern than that," Olivia dead-panned. "We focused on our careers while having repeated 'one-time-things' only to somehow end up adopting three kids in our forties and then take years to decide if we were going to co-parent we should maybe consider getting married, but only after I'd had my Over the Hill birthday."

It got a real amused look – straight-faced. "And I wondered what the hell Erin and Halstead were doing with their three years of playing house," Hank said.

Olivia shrugged. "Did it matter in the end? Seems to have worked out. Still got two grandbabies and a son-in-law out of it."

Hank made a noise that betrayed how he felt about that depended on the day.

"How are they all doing?" Olivia asked. "Erin? The babies?"

"They're good," he nodded and then shook his head. "Real good. Going concerns. All of them."

And his hand came out of his pocket with his phone. He flipped around a bit and then showed her a photo. She gazed at it and felt herself smile.

"You can flip through," he nodded at her.

So she took the phone and cycled through some of the recent photos. It looked like Chicago hadn't gotten much snow yet that year. A green Christmas. But by the looks of it, they'd had a nice one. In stark contrast to the one they'd spent in the hospital. The one they were all still bouncing back from – very slowly.

Hank Voight had a happy … not so little family. Even though Olivia knew he must feel the sting of the people who weren't in the photos. His wife and his oldest son.

"They're beautiful, Hank," she told him, though. Because they were. And not just those two babies. Though, she could see why Hank had made a comment about Benji's strawberry hair. The slightest tinges of red – the blondie-orange of their Goldilocks – of all three of his grandkids were apparent. There was definitely Irish in those kids. And clearly blonde in the Voight genetics. She could tell Hank was probably a blondie before he went grey. And she knew his youngest was – and his daughter (adopted or not – Olivia knew how that went with looks, funny how that worked sometimes).

"Yea," he said and leaned in a bit, pointing at the screen. "That's EJ and Mattie, Erin and Jay's kiddos."

"Oh, you can tell who their parents are," Olivia commented.

Hank grunted. "Yea, guess you can give them they managed to make some pretty good looking kids."

"The dimples on your little guy," she shook her head. The poor little boy was all blue glasses, making his ears stick out of his head. But it was offset and framed by just these cavernous dimples that seemed to make the mischievousness in those magnified eyes even more.

"Oh, yea," Hank nodded. "Eli's all his mom there. Dimples and eyes. And the piss and vinegar. Both of them. Look's wise, Halstead got his mini-me in Tilly girl."

"That hair," Olivia said, giving him a smile.

Hank shook his head a bit. "Erin won't let anyone touch a strand on their heads yet."

"Well," Olivia said, and raised her eyebrow at him, "those curls..."

It got another grunt. "Yea, my wife did the same thing with Magoo – Ethan. Had the Malibu shag too."

"Get that from Mom or Dad?" she asked – she was genuinely curious.

To her, Ethan looked a lot like his dad in the few times she met him. Just as much as he was almost unmistakeably Erin Lindsay's younger brother – to the point you wouldn't question they were blood-siblings. Or you would question the assertion they weren't. Or the further assertion that Ethan was Erin's baby brother and not just her baby. But that was dicey territory that Olivia had to navigate with her family too – in too many ways. Lineage and genetics and blood and family titles. And age gaps causing assumptions about who was who in the family and what lies or myths existed around that.

"Ahh …," Hank gave his head a shake and she could tell he'd gone back to something in his head for a long moment – one that took him a longer to pull out of. "I don't know. To me Magoo's all his Mom, especially when he was a little guy. Scissors weren't allowed near him until after his second birthday. Think the twins' mom's shooting for about the same."

"You must be getting close then," Olivia said. "They're getting big."

"Mmm," he grunted. "Nineteen months now. Busy, busy, busy. Got mom and dad hopping."

"And that's Henry?" she pointed at the other little boy.

"Yea," Hank said. "And his Mom, Olive. Henry's four. And a half."

Olivia shook her head a bit at that. "Wow," she muttered. She'd never had a chance meet Henry, though she'd seen pictures of him. The last of those he was just a baby. And the closest to meeting him had been his mom looking about ready to burst on that sweltering July Fourth they'd stopped in to cool down for a couple hours at Hank's place.

"And Ethan?" Olivia said. "He's … wow … growing up too."

Hank grunted. "Late bloomer with all his medical shit but puberty's hitting him the face now."

"He's …?"

"Sixteen," Hank said. "All about mechanical everything now. Can fucking fix anything. Cars, bikes. Computers. Every appliance in the house. Finally finding his sweet spot."

"You mean dinosaurs weren't his sweet spot?"

Hank made a little noise at that and scrubbed at his cheek a bit considering his son long and hard on the screen. There was a quiet sadness there too. Something more to it that got left unsaid.

"Don't think we'll ever be really done with the dinos," he conceded. "But at least he can hold a conversation that's about something that isn't Jurassic Park. He's got a girlfriend now. That helps. Opens to door to all kinds of other trouble but she's good at getting him to shut-up about the T-rexes so we can all get a bit of a breather."

Olivia smiled. It was funny to think of the awkward tween she'd met, who'd been excited about his upcoming Night at the Museum sleepover and his collector series dinosaur cards and water balloon wars, was now a teen-ager with a driver's licence fixing cars and dating a girl. But she supposed not to long in the future people would be saying the same thing about Benji. She still had similar thoughts about the teen-aged Jack versus the 26-year-old man he was now.

Time went fast. It seemed to go by faster when you suddenly had little people in your life to use as a measure of how quickly days turn to weeks turn to months to years – and there are these grown people with their own interests, personalities and skills right there in front of you. Changing and growing every day in the blink of an eye.

"Sophomore? Junior?" she asked.

"Junior," Hank said. "Got him out of the private school, switched him into the tech school just down the street from our place. Focused in on the STEM stuff, entrepreneurship, hands-on learning. Got all the shop classes and labs, co-ops." He shook his head. "Real turning point for him."

Olivia gave him a smile. "I'm glad to hear that," she shook her own head a bit. "We've had challenges with Benji's learning and health too. So it's just … nice to hear about another child finding his way through it."

Hank grunted. "Yea, Erin had mentioned after her trip up North with Cassidy that your boy's going through some stuff."

Olivia nodded, handing his phone back. "I'd thought about calling you. Some of the medications and treatments, reading about them, I kept seeing M.S. pop up too."

Another sound of acknowledgement. "Yea, all this autoimmune stuff. Seems like they take similar approaches," he said but gave her a shrug. "Don't know I've got any advice on any of it. The usual – day by day. It's going through the gauntlet. Trying the treatments. Finding the one that gets the kids the best quality life that they can tolerate too. And then just getting on with living and being prepared to fucking ride out the flares when they come up."

Olivia hummed her acknowledgement too. "We thought we'd been doing okay with that. We got through his induction into treatment – the first six months. He seemed to be coping. But we had quite the train wreck over the holidays. He was in the hospital for several days. He's – we're – still bouncing back from it," she said with a gesture up the stairs.

Hank nodded. "Yea. Something about the holidays. Loaded. We've done some hospital stays around then too."

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow. "What about Eli? Cerebral palsy?" she asked – but it was strange saying that name. It jarred a bit. She almost wished she'd used EJ but that somehow felt like it might be a private, family name. "I can't imagine what they're going through managing that with a baby."

Hank sighed a little and shook his head. "You know … you wouldn't wish it on anyone. But least the kid's got parents who've got a clue on how to least start managing how to handle it. And least with him having it since birth here, it's what he's going to know. What Mattie knows. Just how her brother is. Don't know no different."

"And yet …," Olivia said. Because they both knew kids always knew they were different. And sometimes those difference just became more pronounced and harder to cope with the older they got.

Hank grunted and shrugged. "Guess don't entirely know how it's going to play out for him yet anyway. Looking like it might be considered 'mild'."

Olivia frowned a bit and exhaled. She wished she had something constructive to say or offer. But she didn't. She didn't know anyone ever would. It would just be left to his parents – and grandfather, and family – to figure out how to live with it. Just like anything else life threw at you and your child.

It was an uphill battle – and sometimes it seemed like some families had more boulders being tossed down the hill at them than others. As beautiful as Hank's family was in those pictures – she knew there was a lot of sadness and tragedy there. They weren't a picture perfect family at all.

And, she could relate to that too. She knew on the outside – in a lot of ways her and Brian had managed to make their little family look easy. A home in Carroll Gardens, a son and a daughter, senior level jobs with a pay cheque that allowed them to have a comfortable life with nearly anything their children could want or ask for. Weekend outings and summer getaways. Summer camps and sports teams and afternoons at the pool. Toys and building blocks and video game systems and all the arts and crafts and science supplies any kid could ask for. It was a good life. It was a much nicer childhoods than her or Brian could've ever even imagined. But they had their own challenges – sadness and tragedies. Frustrations and arguments and sleepless nights.

But even as she thought about – she heard the front door open and the clatter of Brian and Emmy coming in.

"Oop, there they are," Hank said to her, giving her a smile.

"Oh, boy …," she smiled at him a little too. She knew he was in for a show – and that show came roaring around the corner.

"MOMMY!" Emmy declared, sputtering to a stop next to her and Hank and looking back and forth a little confused. But then she shoved a scrunched up piece of art at Olivia. "I paint-it-ed you dis."

"Wow…," Olivia mouthed taking it and examining it carefully. "What is it, Little Duck?" She had absolutely no idea.

"A sno' day," Emmy said.

"Ahh …," Olivia said, nodding at it – like that made absolute sense. At least it maybe made the excessive amount of white paint on the blue construction paper almost seem like art.

"Dat dah house. Our house," she added with a firm jab on some smeared green under the white paint that was almost visible.

"It looks like a big storm hit the city," she offered, showing the 'painting' to Hank. He gave a thin smile at that.

"Jep," Emmy said. "IT A SNO' DAY!"

"Mmm …," Olivia acknowledged. "We haven't had any of those yet this term, have we?"

"No!" Emmy said. "And it not fair! I wanna go sled-in', Mommy."

"Well, that's pretty hard to do without snow, Little Duck," she said. She looked at Hank. "Have you gotten much snow in Chicago yet this winter?"

He gave his head a shake. "Nah. More like spring than the winters we're used to."

Olivia gave her daughter a shrug. "See, Em. It's not just us."

Her little girl gave Hank a bit of a squint.

"Emmy, honey, this is Hank. He's visiting us from Chicago. He's a police officer there."

Emmy pulled a pucker at him, considering that. But Hank just held out a hand. She considered that but then slapped her hand into it – more in a low-five than a handshake but Hank still gave her one loosey-goosey.

"Hi there," he said. "Nice to meet you again, Emily. Met before but you were about this big," he said and held his hands a couple feet apart.

Emmy just stared at that and then up at his face. "I was a baby," she said.

"You were," he allowed.

"You are Hank?" she asked.

"Yea, I am," she agreed.

"We buy you pie!" she said and went charging back into the entryway.

"Just a second," Olivia heard Brian say. "Let me carry it. You don't want to drop it."

"I won't dop it," Emmy protested and must've snagged it before Brian could retrieve it from what Olivia knew must be a bent position trying to unlace the boots he ended up cussing about nearly every day. She reappeared with a box and held it up at her – and then spun to hold it up at Hank. "It boo-berry."

"Mmm," Hank allowed. "Know how to pick'em."

Emmy smiled wide at that and spun back to Olivia, holding it up again. And, Olivia did take it that time, because she could see on the box that the pastry shop they'd stopped into wasn't exactly on the cheap eats end of thing. Apparently Brian felt their guest was special enough for this splurge.

He finally appeared. He looked frazzled and had a face that betrayed after the kids were in bed and Hank was dropped off at the airport, that he'd be needing to do a work debrief with her before he dived into trying to navigate whatever it was that had clobbered him at the end of the day. She knew that likely meant he'd be up most of the night – playing the politician that Brian hated being in figuring out how to word emails and phone calls that would go out in the morning.

"Hey," he nodded at Hank and then stepped and pressed a kiss against her temple. "Hey," he whispered near her ear as he moved away. She raised her eyebrows at Hank. But he only allowed a thin smile and turned a bit back to the bookspines and photoframes on the shelves.

"Got Big Man's favorite," Brian told her, tapping on the top of the box.

"Mmm …," she allowed. So that's what that was about. Not being there for Benji's first lab work since their flare adventures had calmed over the kids' Christmas break. Dad guilt. That wasn't entirely necessary. A blood draw – though an inconvenience that for a 10 minute affair throw a wrench in all their days – wasn't a big deal at this point in their child's health care journey. And it also didn't give them any information in the immediacy.

"How's he doing?" Brian asked.

She gave her head a little shake at that and nodded toward the stairs. "Exhausted."

Brian made a sound of acknowledgement and looked at Hank. "You find the place OK?"

Hank just gave a nod. "Not a problem."

Brian nodded back and then nodded at her. "Just going to check on him. Change," he said and shook at Emmy's shoulder. "Hey, you gonna wash up, Picasso?" Emmy looked at him confused. Brian only gave her a little smile. "Let's go check on Bubba."

Brian gave Olivia's hand a little squeeze and then stepped around them to head up the stairs, Emmy stomping up – counting each step at a time – after him.

Hank smiled at her. Olivia smiled back – a little embarrassed and shrugged. "Sorry," she offered. "We're just … it's a weekday. This is … us."

Hank shrugged right back. "That's fine. Got your dynamic."

And that they did. Better or worse. They were them. At least they were interesting.

AUTHOR NOTE:

The Hank Voight (and his family and the other CPD characters referenced) are as explored and depicted in my CPD AU stories, which start with Interesting Dynamics, if you're interested.

Your readership, reviews and comments are appreciated.

This chapter may be reordered so the month's appear chronologically at a later date.

The story LOCKDOWN is also being intermittently updated at this time.