Eighty-nine.

The Tucker kids wanted for nothing. Their closets and bureaus were stuffed with clothes. Their beds were always made with fresh sheets and blankets and the kitchen was stocked with everyone's favorite drinks and snacks. Ed and Olivia wanted Noah, Maggie, and Wyatt to grow up feeling comfortable, secure, and well cared for. They believed it was possible to give the children this type of life without it resulting in a sense of entitlement or snobbery. However, even the doting parents had to admit the quantity of toys in both their homes bordered on the obscene. The three young Tuckers owned every type of toy imaginable at their disposal, yet, on a blustery afternoon the weekend before Thanksgiving, the trio occupied themselves with a bag of small plastic turkeys and an orange Home Depot paint bucket.

The twins stood on the couch, facing backward, looking down at Noah who was on the floor holding the bucket in place. On his command, Maggie and Wyatt threw the turkeys into the goal. The fake birds hit the plastic with a loud pop. When the twins were out of ammo, Noah counted the number of successful throws.

"Ten!" He announced after one of the rounds. "Good job! Now...let's try ta get 'leven!" He gathered the turkeys in the bag and dropped it between his siblings. Before he could get set, Maggie wound up and hurled a turkey across the room.

Muttering a nonchalant, "ope," Ed sidestepped the object and wandered over to the island. He nuzzled Olivia's neck and glanced at her reading material-Barba's plan for his first hundred days in office. "Whaddya think?" He asked.

"I hate to say it," Olivia replied, "But it sounds like the same old politicians' drivel. Faster trains, lower crime, better schools, more attuned to the people's voices…"

"They're all the same," Ed grumbled good-naturedly. His chest was still flush with her back and he kissed her cheek. "Barba's no different."

Olivia detected a hint of venom in the last comment and turned around, squinting at her husband, "I think he is. Aren't the messages always the same? That people should have a better life? The difference," she pointed out, "Are the methods. Which is what he hasn't quite ironed out yet."

Not wanting to start an argument, Ed grinned and said, "He's a smart man to ask you to help with that part."

While Olivia ran some of her ideas past Ed, Noah and the twins started what was probably their tenth round of turkeys-in-a-bucket. Wyatt and Maggie became more rowdy and started throwing the turkeys with more force. Noah backed up and tilted the bucket, but, one of Maggie's throws pelted him between the eyes. Stunned, he stumbled backwards, landed on his bottom and started crying.

"Owwwwwww!" He wailed.

Olivia jogged over and peeled Noah's fingers away from the wound.

"Maggs hit me," he whimpered.

"Sweetie," Olivia cradled him and kissed the top of his head, "It's okay, baby."

Ed crouched to inspect the wound. A small pink welt was forming above the bridge of his nose, but there was no blood. He guessed Noah's tears were more a result of shock rather than pain. Over on the sofa, the twins looked on quietly, their blue eyes filled with concern. Ed went over and helped them to the floor. They ran to their brother.

"Hur No?" Wyatt asked, peering at Noah's head.

"Maggs hit me with the turkey," Noah weakly mumbled.

"I don't think she meant it bud," Ed said, ruffling Maggie's hair. "Give Noah a kiss, Maggs."

Maggie puckered her lips and kissed Noah's cheek. He smiled. "Thanks, Maggs."

"Ah better?" Maggie kissed him again, this time punctuating it with a "MWAH!"

Noah giggled, "Small sister, you still blowin' bubbles!"

Relieved Noah was okay, Wyatt crawled into Olivia's lap and carved out a space for himself. He touched Noah's head with an index finger and whispered, "Owie."

"S'okay, Wyatt," Noah said, "Doesn't hurt anymore." Suddenly, Noah's eyes grew wide, "Mommy! I'm gonna have a bruise on my birthday!"

"I bet it will be almost gone in three days, sweet boy," Olivia assured him, "C'mon, let's put some ice on it."

The Tuckers retreated to the couch to watch a movie. Noah ate popcorn with one hand and held a small ice pack to his head with the other. After a few minutes, he got tired of his vision being obstructed and handed the ice to Olivia. "Doesn't hurt," Noah said.

"And it's only a little pink," Olivia said, "I don't think you'll have a bruise."

"Small sister sure can throw those turkeys!"

"She sure can."

"Hope she doesn't throw da Thanksgiving turkey!" Noah joked.

Ed and Olivia exchanged smiles. "We'll make sure she doesn't bud," Ed said.

"Gramma would prolly laugh though," Noah said, "She doesn't even like turkey!"

"Still, we can't have a food fight at Thanksgiving," Olivia said.

Noah burst into laughter as he imagined his family peppering one another with their Thanksgiving meal. After a pause to catch his breath, he thoughtfully cocked his head. "I think maybe it'd be fun to have a food fight. Da mashed p'tatoes would go SPLAT on da walls!"

"Who'd clean all that up?" Olivia asked.

"Daddy," Noah replied matter-of-factly. "And prolly Justy."

Ed was in the chair holding Wyatt in his lap, "You gonna help me clean, pal?" He asked the toddler.

Wyatt scrunched up his nose and pointed down the foyer to the closet where the mops and other cleaning supplies were stored, "DAH Keen!"

Olivia laughed and winked at Ed. "Daddy cleans," she murmured, "Quite the rep you have, Captain."

Ed smirked and his eyes sparkled. They were so far away from the days when his reputation was one that induced ridicule and scorn. Rarely did he let a day pass without being immensely grateful for this life of theirs. The kids quickly became reabsorbed in the movie and he puckered his lips, sending a kiss to Olivia through the air.

…

Hearing the kids come home from school was one of Olivia's favorite times of day. It seemed they all burst through the door at the same time, in mid-conversation, often, the conversations were friendly yet passionate debates, some serious, some trivial. After the thuds and rustles of shoes being kicked off and jackets being hung on the rack, the twin twelve-year-olds and sixteen-year-old Noah headed straight for the kitchen and hunted for their favorite after-school snacks and beverages.

Olivia knew other parents had trouble getting their kids to talk, but she'd never experienced any reticence from her brood. Maggie gleefully gave up an abundance of information. Noah did too, although his daily reports were more precise and organized than his sister's. Wyatt, as he had been since infancy, was the quietest, yet when he was able to get a word in, he usually peppered in funny, keenly observed anecdotes. However, on this day, Wyatt didn't have much to say. His shoulders slumped, and before he wandered off to change out of his school clothes, Olivia pulled him aside.

"What happened?" She asked.

Wyatt shrugged. "Nothing."

Maggie breezed back into the room as if she'd never left and answered for her brother, "Wyatt got kicked outta the lunch table," she said contemptuously.

Olivia studied Wyatt's face. He clenched his jaw and shot Maggie a glare, but he also appeared relieved she'd confessed for him. She waited for Wyatt to fill in the rest of the story. When he remained silent, Olivia told Maggie to go to her room. Reluctantly, she obliged.

"What happened, honey?" Olivia asked again.

"Nothing," he repeated, "It's, well, some other kids were at my regular table today and I was finishing this book, and everyone was talking about the Jets-Giants game and I was just about to say that we were going and we'd been on the field before, but...I was finishing the book and before I was done, Miles told me I should go eat in the library," Wyatt's face contorted and he painstakingly finished the story, "With the other losers."

Olivia hugged Wyatt tightly. Academically, school had been easy for him since Kindergarten. He was intelligent and focused and almost too meticulous when completing assignments. It wasn't uncommon for him to re-start a project after he'd completed it because one tiny detail wasn't quite to his liking. Socially, though, Wyatt occasionally struggled. He was a bit of a loner. So much so that every elementary school teacher mentioned it in parent-teacher conferences. By the time he entered middle school, those concerns faded. He liked to read and solve word and logic puzzles. However, he was handsome, tall, and bigger than most of his peers. Summers at the beach and afternoons in the park had honed his football and baseball skills, and he was a valuable member of pick-up teams. Wyatt's more athletically-inclined male peers didn't understand or appreciate his bookish side, and, outside of chess club and academic bowl, he didn't interact much with the school's more scholarly set. Olivia and Ed didn't worry about Wyatt not having many close friends, because the boy always was genuinely happy and it was impossible for him to conceal his feelings when he was upset.

"What happened after he said that?" Olivia asked softly, still holding him to her.

"I went outside for the rest of lunch," Wyatt groaned, sounding annoyed that he had to spell this out for his mother but also ashamed for not standing up for himself.

Wyatt stared at his knees and wisps of brown hair fell across his forehead. Olivia's heart ached for him. She wanted to go to Miles' house and talk some sense into the boy. Explain her son was smart, kind, and compassionate and nobody had the right to make him feel this bad, to force him out of his usual lunch seat, all because he was engrossed in a novel. But, of course, none of that was going to happen. "Wyatt, honey," she said softly, "I happen to think you are one of the most amazing, interesting people I know."

The corners of Wyatt's mouth turned up slightly.

"People, especially people your age, are going to be mean and rude, that's the way some kids...most kids are...and it makes me and it makes your Dad so proud you're not like that. You don't deserve what happened today, and you did the right thing by walking away because, honey, that's the way we win when we're up against those types of people. And you shouldn't ever be embarrassed for loving to read or being smart or wanting to have some time to yourself."

Wyatt bit his lip, debating whether or not to buy his mother's reasoning.

"And another thing," Olivia continued, "Insulting you made Miles feel good for a little while, but that doesn't last, Wyatt. He may have gotten some slaps on the back from the rest of the boys at the table, but being mean isn't something to be proud of, honey. In time, Miles and the others may realize that or maybe they won't, but, at the very least, you can rest easy knowing you're not like them."

Wyatt nodded and broke into a wry smile, "And...they don't have fifty yard line seats for the game Sunday," he quipped.

"No they do not," Olivia grinned and hugged him again. "I love you so much, sweetheart. I am so proud of you."

"I love you too, Mom."

…..

With Olivia spending days either at the Center, on set, or with Barba, the only time she and Ed could carve out to wrap Noah's birthday presents was late in the evening after the kids were asleep. They sat on the floor in their bedroom, carefully cutting and taping the metallic blue and red paper and joking about the unintentional scientific theme of the gifts. An Adventure Kids set included binoculars, a flashlight, compass, and a magnifying glass. There was a 3D Tyrannosaurus Rex nightlight, a small drone, and a book entitled "5,000 Awesome Facts About Everything." The only item that didn't fit was a second book-Funny Jokes for Seven-Year-Old Kids. Olivia was pleased they had shown some restraint with the purchases. Ed agreed and predicted Noah would quickly become obsessed with the two books.

"Maybe we should study a little," he suggested, "I don't wanna be humiliated."

"It's already wrapped," Olivia slithered across the floor and kissed him. "And you're a smart, smart man, and...you look cute when you're a little humiliated."

Ed grinned and cupped the back of her head. The liplock lasted until they were lying on their sides on the floor and Ed pointed out they had a king-sized bed at their immediate disposal. Olivia stood up. Slowly and seductively she peeled off her shirt and bra. Ed's breath caught in his throat. Her beauty still astonished him.

The past week had been challenging. Ed resumed his solo childcare duties while Olivia worked and he insisted it was all fine with him. And it was. Nevertheless, he hated sharing his wife. Making love to her was the only time he was assured exclusive access to the woman everyone seemed to want in their lives. With every pant, sharp gasp, and rasp of their names Ed fell more in love with her. It was frightening to be so possessive, to be so terrified at the possibility that he wasn't enough-he'd conceded long ago she was way too good for him-and he had spent the better part of the past few years proving he was worthy, that he, despite his flaws, could give her everything she'd ever wanted.

But he couldn't.

The part of Olivia Margaret Benson Tucker that loved work, that loved being a catalyst of change and relished finding paths to justice for even the most hopeless cases-that part of her he couldn't fulfill. Even now, as he sucked at her neck and made her quiver and flail against their sheets, he was faced with the reality that her life's purpose wasn't completely wrapped up in him.

"Mmmmm," Olivia murmured into his head after he'd collapsed at her side, looped a leg around her body, and buried his face in her hair. "Ed…"

"Ya good?" He half-whispered.

"Way better than good. I feel so," Olivia paused, searching for the perfect word, "Complete."

Ed lifted his head and gazed into her eyes, "I like that description."

"What about you? How do you feel?"

A contemplative smirk crossed Ed's face, "I feel...like everyone's where they're supposed to be," he said.

Olivia smiled and burrowed herself further into his chest. "I feel that way, too."

…

By the time Eddie Sandow surrendered to the NYPD, almost the whole department had tuned in to the action via one method or the other. Precinct captains listened on the radio, squad room screens were tuned to the local news channels, and former negotiators like Ed Tucker gritted their teeth and silently judged the decisions of the crew charged with getting everyone out of the loft alive. When it was over, guys remaining at their desks packed up and, in most cases, headed home. Tucker took a chance and wandered into a bar where he was certain to encounter some former HNT colleagues.

He had no trouble finding familiar faces and, after the second or third round, the guys around him erupted in hoots and hollers. In walked the barrel-chested Sergeant Mullen. He beamed at the praise, shook a few hands, and downed a shot passed through the circle. Two shots later, Ed found himself shoulder-to-shoulder with Mullen and the night's hero immediately asked if Ed had ever worked with Detective Benson of SVU.

Ed almost choked on his drink. "Yeah," he said, wiping his mouth with his wrist, "Well, not worked with per say, but, yeah, I know her."

"Persistent as hell," Mullen muttered, "And borderline insubordinate...but...she did get everyone outta there alive. The only thing I did was give her an order and let her ignore it."

"Sounds about right," Ed grumbled.

"I'mma give her a call tomorrow. I might like to have a drink with her one of these nights."

"Careful," Tucker said in his IAB voice, "You're a superior officer."

"Not her direct supervisor," Mullen countered, "And even you guys down there at the rat squad would give me a pass, right? I mean damn," he took a drink and blew out a long stream of air, "She's easy on the eyes. To say the least."

The conversation was making Tucker uncomfortable. He felt his jaw tense and his shoulders stiffen. Mullen had probably not eaten all day, was on his way to being very drunk, and there was an underlying lewdness in his words. Mullen had a good reputation, but, after this exchange, Tucker knew he'd always consider the guy a scumbag.

Scumbag or not, Mullen was a savvy police officer and sensed Tucker was agitated. "You ever date her?" He asked.

Tucker forced a sarcastic laugh, "Nah. That'd be a problem on a couple of levels."

"Yeah, IAB...talk about a conflict of interest."

"Yeah," Tucker huffed. He could have mentioned the dozen or so times he'd investigated Benson and SVU or that he was quite sure she or any other member of the squad would gladly take a swing at him if given the chance. But he downed his bourbon, signaled for another, and breathed a sigh of relief when Mullen struck up a conversation with someone else.

Ed brooded and pretended to watch the grainy television set mounted on the far end of the bar. He was tempted to call Benson and warn her. Would Mullen even call? Or was the whole proposition merely bluster? Ed guessed it was. Tomorrow Mullen would wake up with a tequila headache and another call would come in and he'd forget all about the stubborn detective who risked her life so a little girl and her mother could be safe.

For whatever reason, though, Ed couldn't forget. Olivia Benson weighed on his mind. Or, rather, Mullen's attitude toward her was troubling. Ed knew from experience there was no one more passionate about the job than her and he was sure, if he were ever lucky enough to peel back all her layers, he would find a kind, compassionate, genuinely good person who deserved more than to be objectified by the likes of Sergeant Mullen.

…

Ten miles from the Tucker apartment, Caroline rummaged around her Riverdale home's attic, searching for a box she hadn't touched in close to fifty years. She traipsed across the creaky boards, back hunched, and her path illuminated by a hanging work light with a bright yellow handle. The space was cold and smelled of humidity, wood, and cardboard. Neither Caroline nor her family members entered the attic much-she had plenty of storage space in the bedrooms and basement-she was quite sure her grandchildren weren't aware the attic even existed.

She found the box inside a plastic tub-the kind Margie bought her a few years ago after the roof leaked and destroyed several film reels of she and her brothers as toddlers. It took no time at all for Caroline to find what she was looking for-a small jeweler's case containing a necklace she never had the chance to give her late son Jack. Caroline clutched the bead chain to her chest, closed her eyes, and let her thoughts drift back to the morning she'd sent her kids off to school believing she was the luckiest woman in the world.

She momentarily lost her balance, stumbled, and opened her eyes to get her bearings. Before shuffling back to the hatch, Caroline made sure to snap the tub's plastic lid in place. As she did so, she silently acknowledged the next time someone opened the box would most likely be after she'd passed away. She blew a kiss at the container that held Jack's most precious belongings and made sure to flip the switch on the light before carefully descending the ladder.

…

#Tuckson