120.

The hair toss.

It wasn't intentional; she was only letting her hair out of the clip when she twitched her neck to the right and sent the tresses flying.

Ed nearly drooled.

"Get. Over. Here." His voice was as deep and gravelly as it had ever been. One eyebrow cocked, Olivia sauntered over to the bed. She slowly crawled toward Ed and landed with a faint oof when he pulled her on top of him. "You are so fucking beautiful," he said before he kissed her. "And I want you more than I've ever wanted you."

"Ever?"

"Ever."

Date nights always culminated in lovemaking; it was a given, a part of the routine, but never boring or obligatory. This was especially true on this night. Ed was intense, semi-ferocious but also earnest and tender. With the nightmares, he'd exposed some weakness, yet he felt more masculine and more indebted to his wife. The sex was all about her-every touch, stroke, movement-it was all for her pleasure, all for Ed to see and hear her throw her head back and moan. She would try to keep her eyes open but the pleasure would be too overwhelming. Ed got the most gratification from watching her and knowing he was the only person in the world who could render her so completely and totally satisfied.

"Edddd…"

"Y'okay?"

Through gentle laughter, Olivia replied, "There are no words to describe how okay I am."

Ed smirked, rested on his elbow, and gazed at her while carefully moving aside damp strands of hair from her forehead and cheeks. "All I wanna do is make you this okay. Forever."

"I love that idea."

Ed planted a kiss on her forehead and let his lips linger there for a few extra seconds, savoring the moment awash with mutual desire and affection. He collected her into his arms and made patterns on her bare back with his fingertips. Never one to rely on prayer, he nevertheless closed his eyes and sent a plea to God that he and Olivia would have countless more nights exactly like this one.

….

Wearing smocks over their clothing, Maggie, Wyatt, and Sofia played together at the water works table in the Totally Tots section of the Brooklyn Children's Museum. Perched on a nearby bench, Ed and Brooke sipped coffee and watched the kids experiment with a variety of funnels, spouts, and floating toys. For a brutally cold, blustery day, the museum was surprisingly empty, and the twins and Sofia shared the area with only a handful of other kids. Ed was happy to have some downtime with Brooke, but also pleased he wasn't there alone. He despised making small talk with other parents, and no matter how aloof he tried to appear, strangers always approached him.

"I need to remember this place," Brooke said, "Especially since it's supposed to be freezing like this for the time being."

"Might want to invade Sarah's condo again for a week," Ed replied. He wasn't being totally glib. A week of sunshine and warm temperatures sounded immensely appealing.

"Don't know if she'll invite me," Brooke muttered without thinking. She mentally concocted a plan to walk back the comment while Ed processed it.

"Whaddya talking about?" He asked.

"Oh, nothing really," Brooke said, "We had a little disagreement the other day. Not a big deal. She, uh, she doesn't quite understand the full scope of being a parent when she gives parenting advice."

Ed snickered. "She'll get it someday," he replied. "Or, maybe not. Either way, she means well."

"True," Brooke mumbled,

Maggie ran over to Ed and held out her arm. A sleeve that had been rolled to her elbow had slipped back down her arm. "Dada! Ma'seeve!"

Ed fixed the sleeve and kissed Maggie's nose. "There ya go, sweetheart."

"Tayooo, Da!" She turned around and saw Sofia was standing close enough to Wyatt so that their arms were touching. Maggie wedged herself in the middle of them, reclaiming the spot she'd previously occupied.

"When does Wyatt get his stitches out?" Brooke asked.

"Two more days," Ed answered. "He's been a real trooper, I tell ya."

"He was when it happened," Brooke said, "Noah too. And you. I think I would have froze if I saw Sofia covered in blood like that."

"You never know how you're gonna react," Ed responded with a shrug, "But I'm a cop. I've seen worse. Way worse." Talking about Wyatt reminded Ed that the wound was supposed to stay as dry as possible. He called Wyatt over and examined his forehead. "Just makin' sure your stitches aren't getting wet, bud. You're good."

"I good, Dada. Stishes na'wet." Wyatt punctuated the reply by batting his eyelashes.

"Nope, they're not. Go ahead and play."

"Wah' go down dere," Wyatt pointed to the far end of the room where there were some kids playing with water guns. The entrance was accessed through a short tunnel, but the firing area was full at the moment.

"I'll take ya down there in a minute," Ed promised. "Stay here for a little while longer. With the waterfalls."

Wyatt glanced at Sofia and Maggie and, grinning amiably, turned back to Ed. "Kay, I pay w'Magg and' Sof!"

"Good boy."

Brooke leaned back against the wall and hugged her knees. "He is such a sweetheart. I hope he's always like that-so calm and composed. Qualities will serve him well in adulthood."

"From my experience, behavior at this age is a decent indicator of what's ahead," Ed smirked at Brooke. "He has a good chance of stayin' that way. He's been like that since he was a baby. Just goes with the flow. And, he's around me a lot, no one more level headed than I am."

Brooke laughed and patted his knee, "Retirement's served you well, that's for sure."

"I'm definitely a different type of Dad," Ed wasn't sure to take her remark as a compliment or as criticism. "I hope, uh, well, I wasn't as present with you and Sarah but I hope you two know I loved you, I love you, just the same."

"Of course we do, Dad," Brooke replied sincerely, "I'm glad you got the chance to realize what a great Dad you are. I don't think you gave yourself enough credit before. And I think that's Olivia's doing. I think she makes you feel like a good man...she's a good wife, probably the best wife and mom. If I could be half as good as her…" Brooke trailed off and stared at Sofia.

"Speaking' of giving yourself credit," Ed sounded sagely and fatherly, "Don't forget about yourself and the wonderful daughter you're raising. There's room for more than one good mother in the world, Brooke. Olivia bein' so perfect doesn't mean you can't be."

A lump started to form in Brooke's throat. She forced a smile and stood up. "The other kids left," she said, "I'm going to take them to the water guns."

…

A steaming bowl of paella sat on the table between Ed and Olivia. In his high chair, Noah happily munched on shrimp, vegetables, and rice using his chunky plastic fork and spoon. The new type of cuisine intrigued him, and he examined each bite closely and with great interest before putting the food in his mouth. Normally, Olivia and Ed engaged Noah in mealtime conversations, but he was occupied and they were busy grinning uncontrollably at each other when they weren't trading flirty small talk.

"Pa-ell-a," Olivia pronounced the word slowly and in a deeper tone of voice than she typically used. "Excellent choice, Captain. A surprising choice, but an excellent one."

"I pass this place all the time on my way home," Ed replied, "Thought I'd try it. We'll have to go there sometime. Great ambience. Brick walls, jazz, great wine selection."

"Sounds like my kind of place."

Ed winked, "I think it could be."

Olivia grinned and sipped her wine, raising the glass as she swallowed. "This is great, though. You're full of good choices tonight."

"Battin' a thousand."

"Yes you are."

After taking a few bites and spending a moment in silence, Ed asked, "What, uh, or, when ya gonna tell me about the celebration? You mentioned it on the phone?"

"Oh, yeah," Olivia put down her fork. Ed did the same and she reached for his closest hand. "I put the picture of us, you know, the one we took after the boat ride in Paris? I put it on my desk today."

Slack-jawed, Ed gazed at her. It took a few seconds for a thrilled sparkle to replace the shock in his eyes. "Wow," he finally said, "That's...a big deal."

"It is."

"Sure you're ready?"

Olivia nodded, "It belongs there," she said, "I had it in the drawer, it kept getting closer and closer to the frame, then the desk, and then, we-"

"-took a little break?"

"-took a break, but I left it there, just in case."

"Good thing ya did."

"So, cheers," Olivia tilted her glass toward his, "To steps in the right direction."

"Cheers," Ed smirked as he took a drink, "Damn good toast, Benson."

"You sound relieved."

"Believe me," Ed said, "I am."

…

Olivia commended herself for packing all of her personal items in only two evidence boxes. When she thought about it a little longer, the feat wasn't all that remarkable, for she hadn't truly made the Benson Center office hers. Moving out of the SVU office had been more challenging and parting with items as insignificant as a paper clip holder had been difficult. At the Center, she left the office supplies behind for the next occupant and removed her photographs and a few other symbolic odds and ends. She said a few words to the four-person staff and told them they would begin monthly check-in meetings in March. With that, everyone went back to their respective spaces and left Olivia alone in what was about to be her former office.

Gripping the window sill, she stared out into her partial-alley view. The building was located in a nondescript mid-rise building on one of Midtown Manhattan's more boring streets. However, it was a perfect location for the work done by the Center's staff and for the women and children who entered, yearning to be unrecognized, even anonymous. For the first time since considering scaling back her role, Olivia felt completely at peace with the decision. She was leaving day-to-day operations in competent hands and giving herself a more flexible, less stressful schedule. She was confident she could now fully embrace what it meant to be retired.

While in her semi-meditative state, a woman had arrived without anyone having prior notice. This was not common practice, for the Center did not advertise its services and worked solely in conjunction with Manhattan SVU. It was possible for a prior client to have passed on information, but still, new client walk-ins were rare.

"I'd like to see Olivia Benson."

Hearing her name, Olivia spun around and darted into the reception area. She didn't recognize the woman at first because she was wearing a fur-lined hood. When Olivia saw her face, she gasped, "Rachel?"

"Olivia, hi," Rachel fidgeted, her eyes danced wildly, and she spoke in a shaky, clipped voice, "I hope you don't mind me showing up like this. I wasn't sure where else to go and then I heard you were doing this as a second act." She smiled weakly. "Is there a place we can talk?"

Stacey, the highly skilled counselor who was taking over Olivia's position started to step in, but Olivia waved her off. "Sure," she said, "I'm actually on my way out, but why don't we go in here."

Rachel followed her into the office and Olivia closed the door. However, before the conversation could begin, Rachel caught sight of the photographs stacked in the box. She froze, trembled, and stumbled backwards. "I, uh, this was a mistake," she said, "I have to go."

"Rachel, no. Stay. Talk to me. What's going on?"

"You, you are," she pointed to the box, "Tucker's your husband?"

"Yes he is."

Rachel's eyes grew wide and her face filled with terror. She gripped the door handle and yanked it open. "Watch yourself," she said, "He's dangerous." Before Olivia could say anything else, Rachel rushed out of the office and let the main door slam behind her.

…..

At the store, the aglaonema plant seemed much too big for where Olivia wanted to place it, but when they got it inside and placed it next to her favorite chair in the den, Wyatt admitted it was the perfect size. "You were right," he grinned, revealing his perfectly straight, white teeth, "Not too big at all."

"Trust your mother," Olivia said with mock reproach.

Wyatt winked and spun the planter around, "This way?"

"A little more to your right."

"How 'bout now?"

"Perfect." Arms akimbo, Olivia stared at the plant and sighed. "I needed a little spring," she said. "It's been so dreary."

Certain his mother's comment had a dual meaning, Wyatt fell silent as he debated how to respond. He and Olivia had always had a special connection. They could read one another's moods simply by being in the same room. It had been a month since the funeral, and Wyatt could tell her attempts to remain strong were sapping most of her energy. She didn't move as quickly as she used to, but during their shopping trip and stop for lunch, her actions and even her speech seemed labored.

In addition to having a sixth sense about each other's emotions, neither Wyatt nor Olivia were shy about voicing concerns. Wyatt reminded himself of this norm, took a deep breath, and said, "Mom, I'm worried about you."

Olivia regarded her youngest son with an appreciative expression and sized him up. He didn't appear as though he was going to cry. He didn't look upset, only determined. His eyes were innocent and his jaw relaxed as he waited for her to say something.

"Honey, you don't have to worry about me," she said, though she knew the instruction was futile.

Wyatt skeptically cocked his head. Tears began to pour from Olivia's eyes and Wyatt rushed to hug her. Olivia wailed. Her body shook. Wyatt kept his arms around her and oddly felt relieved. He had been with her every step of the way-minutes after his father died, at the funeral home, at the wake, after it was all over, he called or dropped in daily-at no time had she shown this much outward emotion. For someone so easily prone to shedding happy tears, his mother's steely resolve in the wake of her husband's death was, to Wyatt, alarming.

The sobs began to subside. Olivia sniffled and slapped at her soaked cheeks. Wyatt grabbed a nearby box of tissues and they sat on the small sofa. "I'm sor-"

"-No," Wyatt interrupted. "Mom, don't be sorry. I can't imagine what a tough time you're having. I-"

"-I cry every morning," Olivia said. She played with the tassels on a folded throw and words poured out. "I cannot bear to get out of bed until I've let it out. All the weight, the grief, it collects at night and it's...suffocating when I wake up." Olivia sighed, blew her nose, and fixed her gaze on the window. "I don't know how to live life without him. He wanted me to. Toward the end, he knew it was getting there, he told me he wanted me to try and be happy, to enjoy the time I have left, like he enjoyed," Olivia started to choke up again, "Like he enjoyed every second of our life together." She buried her face in her hands and began sobbing again. "But I don't know if I can."

Wyatt put an arm around her and she rested her head against his shoulder. They remained like that for a while and watched the sun gradually set. Daylight faded, and Wyatt turned on one of the two identical floor lamps in the room. He peered at the photographs, appreciating each one individually, and taking time to remember, if he could, the moment they were taken. The Tuckers loved their pictures-they'd taken thousands over the years and one of their favorite pastimes was scrolling through their extensive digital and print catalogue.

"Is there a theme to the pictures in this room?" Wyatt asked when his mother calmed down and her breathing was steady.

"Yes," she said, "How can you tell?"

"I can't. Not totally."

"They're all firsts," Olivia explained. "Over there-first day of school, Maggie with her first lost tooth, you with your first swimming trophy. God, you were so young. Five years old in that big pool. Our first family photo after we bought the beach house. All firsts."

Wyatt glanced at the frame sitting on the table next to him and squinted at it. Unlike the others, this one was slightly out of focus and most of the print consisted of the smiling faces of his parents. There was very little background, and Wyatt couldn't tell where they were. "What about this one?" He asked.

"Oh that," Olivia laughed softly. "That is our very first selfie. We were out, having a good time and acting like kids. Would you believe it was your Dad's idea to take it?"

"Yeah, actually I would."

"You're right," Olivia murmured, "Those little things, the little moments most people would think were trivial and forget about, I think he loved those best."

"I think so, too." At the risk of further upsetting his mom, Wyatt dared to offer one of his most vivid memories. "I think some of my favorite times with him was when he'd take us Christmas shopping. Each one of us at a different time, by ourselves. He made us feel like we could buy whatever we wanted, whatever we thought would be the perfect present. Then, the two of us, I don't know about Maggie and Noah, but we always got pizza. With olives. Because nobody else liked olives on pizza but us. I hope," Wyatt's voice quivered ever so slightly, "I hope I can be as amazing of a Dad as he was."

Now it was Olivia's turn to be solid and steady for her son. She sat up straight and squeezed Wyatt's hands. "I have no doubt you will be," she said and stared directly into his eyes, "No doubt."

"Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome, honey. I love you."

"I love you, too." Wyatt swatted away a few tears. "What do you want to do tonight?"

"You don't have to stay with me, you must have-"

"-Do you want to be alone?"

Olivia's eyes glistened. "No. No I don't."

"Then," Wyatt grinned and his eyes brightened, "Cards?"

"I am ahead in Gin."

Wyatt stood up and held out his hands to help her, "Not for long," he replied cockily. "I think tonight's the night I win big."

…

On the way home from basketball practice, Noah chatted on the phone with Grandma Caroline. Olivia amusedly listened to Noah's adorable, endearing side of the conversation as they strolled along Ninth Avenue. It was a timely distraction, for she'd been wrestling with Rachel Wilson's warning all day.

"Gramma, our game is Saturday. Dat's in one, two, three, four, FIVE days so you gotta come, okay?"

"Daddy or Mommy can come get you or maybe Sare Bear."

"In da gym you can sit on the chairs and not da bleachers because they have chairs for Grandmas."

"Can you bring cookies for after?"

"You know da rules of basketball?"

"Gramma, dat's hockey!"

Though she was eavesdropping, Olivia remained alert. Rachel had been disheveled, visibly anxious, and, perhaps, a bit paranoid. She was nowhere near the staunch, composed vice cop Olivia remembered. After the visit, Olivia made a few calls, putting the powers that be on alert, but she was met with several curt "thank you for letting me know" responses. She asked Rollins to track down a phone number, but the one she unearthed was no longer in use. Rollins sounded swamped, so Olivia didn't press for further assistance. She asked the Center staff to try and keep Rachel on their radar but knew it was up to Rachel herself to start that process. Somehow, without NYPD resources, Rachel found Olivia which meant she could be tracking her at this very moment. Though Rachel clearly needed help, Olivia needed to keep that type of instability away from her children.

Noah hung up the phone and put it in the pocket of Olivia's parka. She felt the pressure of him snapping the pocket closed and grinned. "Thank you, sweet boy."

"Y'welcome, Mommy! Gramma's gonna come to da game."

"That'll be so fun."

"Yep!" Noah squinted up at her, "You think we're gonna win?"

"You sure looked pretty good at practice. But, it's the first game, so maybe everyone will be a little nervous? It's okay if you don't win. The season is long and you'll have another game the next Saturday."

"I wish Sonny could coach me again."

"Me too, honey," Olivia replied, "But he's a lot busier now that he and Brooke have Sofia and he's a lawyer."

"But when you're p'lice you work A LOT!"

"That's true," Olivia said with a chuckle, "But this is a new job for Sonny and when something's new, it takes a lot of time to learn the job and learn what you're supposed to do."

"My teacher says I'm a fast learner," Noah said. He skipped extra high and added, "Hope Sonny is, too!"

"I'm sure he is. I-" A commotion nearby interrupted Olivia. It was nothing, really. A delivery driver argued with a store owner over the quantity of items in a shipment. They shoved the packing slip back and forth and shouted some mild expletives, but the conflict was short-lived and by the time Olivia and Noah passed them, the driver was back in his truck.

Unbothered, Noah continued along and relayed details of his day at school. Olivia, however, clutched the collar of her parka and endured the burning of panic in her chest. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been consumed with this level of anxiety, but Rachel's visit coupled with the sudden burst of conflict on the street ignited deeply buried yet potent fears.

"Mommy!" Noah impatiently tugged at Olivia's arm.

"Oh, um, sorry sweetie. What is it?"

"I said, can we get Mamacita?"

"Sure, sweet boy. Let's call Daddy and see what he wants."

"Prolly a steak burrito."

Still troubled, Olivia couldn't help but grin at Noah's assured answer. "Steak burrito?"

"Yep! Last time we had Mamacita, Daddy got one and ate it all up! I didn't even get a bite!"

"Daddy must have been very hungry."

"Yeah, he said he was hungry 'cause he was workin' hard on a project 'til really late at night and he didn't have breakfast."

Now it was Olivia's cheeks' turn to burn. She had no idea when this particular Mamacita visit had occurred, but she was certain the "project" involved her, him, and their bed. She was also fairly confident he assumed the anecdote would eventually make its way back to her and cause her to blush just as it had done.

Steak burrito? She texted.

He immediately replied, Sure, thanks, and included an emoji with a broad grin.

Olivia shook her head and smiled at the screen. Five minutes ago she'd been nearly crippled with terror. Now, all she could focus on was bringing food home, spending the evening with the kids, and winding down the night with her husband at her side.

….

#Tuckson