Olivia called Mrs. Cooper to tell her she had the afternoon off and left the precinct early so she could pick up Chelsea from school.

"I'll drive you," Elliot had all but insisted. She tried to protest but it wasn't convincing.

"She's going to know I'm upset," Olivia whispered on the drive to Chelsea's school.

"That's okay," Elliot said. "She's old enough to know what's going on."

"I don't know how to tell her," Olivia said. "We're not… religious. Right now I wish we were. Telling her Grandma is in heaven sounds a lot nicer than she's going to rot in the ground for all eternity."

She saw Elliot cringe at the thought.

"How did you tell your kids about your dad?" Olivia asked.

"Kathy did it," Elliot said. "Maureen and Kathleen were the only ones old enough to understand. She told them about heaven. It was a lot easier on them. But I'm sure you'll come up with something."

As suspected, Chelsea knew right away something was wrong. A little detective, just like her parents.

"Mommy, are you crying?" Chelsea asked as Olivia helped strap her into the booster seat they now kept in the sedan for child victims and their own kids.

"We'll talk about it at home, baby," Olivia said, kissing her daughter on the forehead and feeling Elliot's eyes on her in the rearview mirror.

"Why don't I come up," Elliot said when they got to the girls' apartment building.

"You don't need to," Olivia said, gathering her things.

"I want to," he said, parking the car and getting out. "C'mon peanut, let's get you out of that booster seat."

"Peanut?" Chelsea giggled. "I'm not a peanut, I'm a person!"

"Says who?" Elliot joked as he helped her out of the car and carried her backpack and lunchbox for her.

"Says ME!" Chelsea shouted.

Olivia felt her heart swell to see the two of them interacting. She knew she was overly emotional today but something in her just wouldn't shake the feeling that they were so much alike. Too much, even for spending very minimal time together.

Chelsea and Mark loved each other, but their relationship had never been an easy one. And Olivia always felt guilty like somehow Mark knew Chelsea wasn't his biological daughter, and Cheslea could sense that Mark wasn't her biological father.

It was silly of course. The doctor told Mark he wasn't completely infirtile, it just may be hard for them to get pregnant. And Chelsea was just a baby, then a toddler. She wouldn't expect anyone else but Mark, the man whose voice she heard since she was in the womb, to be her father. He'd wanted Chelsea, been so excited when she told him she was pregnant. He began planning the next 50 or 60 years of their lives that night, starting with a wedding.

But her infancy hadn't been easy. Mark couldn't stand the lack of sleep or the constant schedule interruptions that came with having a baby. Olivia felt, most of the time, she was doing everything on her own. The feedings, the diaper changes, school. She was exhausted all of the time.

For years Olivia had suspected that Mark had OCD, or was maybe on the Autism Spectrum. He just liked everything so meticulous. It was endearing at first when they met in college. Her life had always been chaotic. She never knew what she'd find at home with her mother and she always had to make a lot of on the fly decisions.

But Mark was a planner. He coordinated their class schedules and planned their meals and dates, and it was just nice to have someone else take the reins. He wasn't a controlling man in other senses. He always let her pick what they did or what they ate and things like that, he just had to make sure it was planned in advance and they had a schedule. It was quirky, but much better than the man she'd almost run off with at 16. He was nearly 30 at the time. Looking back that memory is marred by her mother assaulting her with a broken vodka bottle and Olivia nearly putting her through the wall.

And that memory brought her back to reality. The reality that she had to tell her child her grandmother was dead, and explain what death really was. She had to tell her husband he'd have to take off work for the funeral. She had to call the morgue and get the body released and get the arrangements set. She was already just so tired thinking of all the things she had to do.

She went to the apartment on autopilot, not really registering that Elliot was keeping Chelsea occupied. She unlocked the apartment door, changed her clothes, and it wasn't until she came out and saw Elliot in her kitchen, tie off, shirtsleeves rolled up making chicken noodle soup on her stove and Chelsea eating an apple with peanut butter at the breakfast bar that she realized how nice it was to have someone else to just step in and pick up the slack without two weeks notice and express written consent.

"You don't have to do that," Olivia said, stepping closer to Elliot.

"It's the best chicken soup you're ever going to have," he said. "Secret family recipe. You shouldn't have to cook tonight. You guys are all going to need to just be together and relax. Plus they'll be leftovers for the rest of the week."

She turned back to Chelsea who was looking at them with her head tilted like a dog listening for a whistle.

"Mommy, you look like you need a hug," she said.

"I do baby," Olivia said, walking over to Chelsea and scooping her up off her stool and carrying her to the couch.

"You always tell me it's better to talk about your feelings than keep them locked in your heart," Chelsea said from her lap.

"You're too smart for your own good," Olivia said with a chuckle. "There's something I have to tell you but I don't know how to say it."

"Are you sick?" Chelsea asked. "Like Leah Thompson's mom?"

Leah Thompson, one of Chelsea's classmates, had a mother with breast cancer. The woman is only 32, and the class made her cards each month to try to brighten her spirits. It was scary for the children to know that Leah's mother was so sick, but Olivia was pretty sure the teacher hadn't discussed death with them yet.

"No honey," Olivia said.

"Is it Daddy?" Chelsea asked, her eyes going wide.

"No, it's grandma," Olivia said.

"Grandma's sick?" Chelsea asked. "Can we go help her feel better? I can make her a card and take her my special blanket."

"Grandma isn't sick," Olivia said. "She died, baby."

Chelsea got very quiet and stared at Olivia for a minute, trying to understand what that meant. Elliot turned away from the stove, putting the lid on the soup and she felt him watching them.

"It means that she's not here anymore, with us," Olivia said. "She's gone away and she isn't coming back."

"But where did she go?" Chelsea asked.

Olivia felt herself trying to spiral. In truth, she didn't actually know where people went when they died. Did they just cease to exist, leaving holes behind in the living world with no trace? Was reincarnation possible? Was there some heaven and hell system that Christians believed in? If Olivia didn't even know herself how was she supposed to explain it to her second grader?

"She went to heaven," Elliot said from the kitchen, crossing the room to come sit with them on the couch.

"What's heaven?" Chelsea asked.

"It's a place people go when they die, where they can live forever with no pain or sadness," Elliot said. "Think of all the best days you've ever had in your life, all your favorite things that you like to do and all the people you love most in the world. Getting to do those things and be with those people all day, every day. That's what heaven is."

Chelsea's eyes lit up as she looked at Elliot and Olivia felt the conversation slipping away from her. It wasn't that she and Mark explicitly didn't want to bring religion into their home, but neither one was much of a believer. Elliot though, was a strict Catholic, and she didn't know how she felt about letting him lead this discussion.

"I want to go there," Chelsea said. "I want to go visit grandma there."

"That's the thing, peanut," Elliot said. "We can't go there until it's our time to die. And for you and your mom and dad that's years and years away, because you still have a lot of really cool things to do here on earth."

"But what if I miss grandma and want to see her?" Chelsea asked.

"It's okay to miss your grandma," Elliot said. "I'm sure your mom misses her too."

"I do, baby, I do," Olivia said. "And it's okay to be sad and cry because you can't see her anymore."

"My heart hurts," Chelsea said. "I want grandma to be here with me, not in heaven."

Olivia's heart broke into so many pieces. She wished more than anything she could stop this hurt for her little girl. Even in death, Serena has found a way to make Olivia's life miserable.

"Well, just think, in a billion years when you finally get to heaven, she'll have the whole place figured out and she can meet you at the front gate and show you around," Elliot said.

Chelsea smiled through the tears she was trying not to cry.

"I like that," she whispered.

"It's okay to cry, sweetie," Olivia said. "You can let it out."

"Did you cry yet?" Chelsea asked.

"All day long, baby," Olivia said.

"Daddy doesn't like it when we cry," Chelsea said, and Olivia felt Elliot stiffen.

"Daddy doesn't like when we cry over silly things, like spilling water on the rug and packing the wrong kind of yogurt for lunch," Olivia said. "I think right now he'd be okay if we cried."

And then Chelsea's dam burst and she broke into sobs against Olivia's chest. And then Olivia couldn't help but break down as she held her baby, wishing there was something she could do to fix things.

She wasn't aware of what was happening until it was already done. Elliot had wrapped them both in his arms, pulling them into him. He rubbed Chelsea's back soothingly, as he'd done with Liv on the roof, and he whispered calming words into Olivia's ear. He didn't let them go until Chelsea had fallen asleep on her chest and Olivia's breathing was normal again.

"Do you want me to stay until Mark gets home?" Elliot asked quietly, not wanting to wake Chelsea.

"No," Olivia said. "You've already done more than necessary. I don't know how I can thank you."

"I told you, Liv, you don't have to thank me," Elliot said. "You just need to take care of yourself and your family, and if I can help with that, I'm always going to."

He put his tie and jacket back on and then squeezed Liv's hand once more.

"Soup's just simmering. It's ready to eat at any time. Should keep for a week in the fridge or you can freeze it."

Then he was out the door.


The girls got themselves composed before Mark got home. Chelsea was in her room playing with her Barbies and Olivia intercepted him at the front door.

"Hey, hon," He said, kissing her on the cheek. "Something smells good."

"It's chicken noodle soup," Olivia answered. "But I need to talk to you before dinner."

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"My mother died today," Olivia said, trying her best to keep her composure. Despite what she told Chelsea earlier, Mark didn't handle tears well. Another reason she felt he could be on the Spectrum. "She was drunk and fell down the subway steps."

"Oh," Mark said, not even making an attempt to hug her or comfort her in any way. "Did you decide on the arrangements yet?"

"No, I spent most of the afternoon trying to explain everything to Chelsea," Olivia said. "I told her my mother was in heaven."

Mark actually scoffed.

"That woman would not be in heaven, even if she believed in it," he said. "I didn't think you were religious."

"It just seemed like the easiest way to break it to her," Olivia said.

"Well, I'll back you up if it comes up," he said. "And I'll make all the arrangements after dinner. I'm going to change."

As Olivia watched him walk into their bedroom and close the door, she felt like someone had zapped her with a lightning bolt. Mark wasn't overly affectionate. Never had been. Olivia was never one for PDA herself, and she'd always liked that Mark gave her space. But after today, when Elliot didn't hesitate to hold her while she cried, and Mark couldn't even hug her or tell her he was sorry? She was starting to wonder if the things she used to like about him really worked for her anymore. Maybe she'd been too young when they got together. Or maybe she was just too emotionally drained today and she was blowing everything out of proportion.

Yes, the last one. That was definitely it, Olivia thought to herself before pulling out the silverware and setting the table for soup.


A/N: I'm on a roll. In case anybody cares, I'm not a fan of Mark.