Four.
"Hey, Liv," Fin sidled up to the bar next to Olivia who sat perched on a stool. She had been nursing a bourbon-the glass and her phone were in front of her. Preferring to stand, Fin slid aside the seat she'd reserved for him.
"Hey," she spoke graciously, "Thanks for coming."
"Not a problem," he sounded indifferent. Fin waved over the bartender and ordered a beer. "What'd IAB say about Cartwright and Dunmore?" He asked, lowering his voice when he said the officers' names. This wasn't a cop bar, but one never knew.
Olivia noticed he didn't say "Tucker," but he may not have realized Tucker was back. "They don't think we have enough to open an investigation. Yet."
Fin accepted the decision, "They're probably right."
"I don't know," she countered, "Those calls and texts all of a sudden? And right after they were out of town with the lacrosse team? Something's up."
"You think they're nervous about going after cops again?"
She took a sip. The bourbon burned her throat. "I hope not. That's their job. They're keeping us on the case."
"Well aren't we lucky," Fun muttered sarcastically, staring straight ahead at the old license plates tacked to the bar's paneled walls.
Olivia turned to completely face him and force him to look her in the eyes, "Listen, I didn't ask you here to talk about the case."
"I figured."
Look at me, dammit.
Of all the SVU squad members, Tucker had given Fin the least trouble. Still, she and Fin had worked together a long time, and he experienced the agony IAB investigations caused her, Elliot, Cragen, Cassidy, and Rollins. Fin hated Tucker just as much as everyone else, and Olivia knew it was unfair to tell him to get over it and move on like she had done with Rollins and Carisi.
"Fin," she tried her best to sound sincere, "I want you to know…I didn't intend to…to have it come out this way. I thought it was better to keep things under wraps. I was wrong."
"How long?" He asked, finally meeting her eyes. He appeared genuinely hurt.
Olivia pressed her lips together. Hard. "We started meeting for drinks last year. But, in the past few months…it became something else."
"Liv, you didn't do anything wrong," Fin said softly, "but I wish you would have told at least one of us. You know we support you no matter what."
She hadn't expected Fin to shed the tough-guy armor so easily, and his forgiving, demeanor made her feel guilty when she had planned to be unapologetic and maybe a bit stubborn.
"No matter what," she parroted, almost in a whisper.
He nudged her playfully, "Tucker?" He grimaced in exaggerated disgust, teasing her, and lightening the mood. "Wait 'til your old partners find out."
"It will be interesting," Olivia acknowledged.
"Seriously, Liv, I'm glad you're happy," he gave her a little hug and then screwed up his face, "is that why he's calmed down so much with us?"
"Maybe."
He shrugged, "Maybe you shoulda been involved with him sooner."
Olivia just smiled at him, appreciating the fact that he hadn't lost his sense of humor with her.
Fin returned to detective mode, "So over a year, you've been seeing each other and working together. Nobody suspected anything. Why'd they transfer you then?"
"A combination of Dodds and…a legitimate concern about bias."
"Barba?"
"He had to let 1PP know," Olivia admitted both to Fin and to herself, "He couldn't keep it from the investigation. But, I probably should have disclosed earlier, maybe after the Abraham case. It will be a long time before we get back to where we were, back to that comfort level."
Fin took a long drink and swallowed hard, "I'm gonna tell you something, and you can take it or leave it. But at least think about it."
"Ok."
"It's not like we've all come together to talk about you and Tucker, but I can see why Barba's upset and why things are a little weird back at the house."
Olivia raised her eyebrows, not sure if she wanted to hear what Fin was about to say.
"Liv, everyone in the squad trusts you, probably trusts you the most of anyone in NYPD. It hurts knowing that you don't reciprocate that trust."
Annoyed yet calm, Olivia retorted, "I get it. But this wasn't about trust, Fin. Are you honestly telling me the squad would have just accepted Tucker and I were together and continue on as usual?"
"No, it still woulda been awkward, but…at least easier to accept. Now, don't get me wrong, I still can't believe it's Tucker, but you pushed us away when we're your friends, we could've been your allies." He noticed her jaw clench, "I don't want to upset you," he put a reassuring hand on hers, "but it is about trust. If you trust Tucker, I trust your judgement. You can't help who you love." Fin was having a really hard time with the whole idea.
"Thanks," Olivia huffed sarcastically.
Fin took a deep breath, "We're good, Liv. We're good." He finished his beer and ordered another round for the two of them. The drinks came, and he offered a toast, "To you being back." They clinked glasses, drank, and then Fin just had to say it one more time, "Tucker?"
Olivia laughed, "Maybe someday you'll get it."
…
The next morning the entire SVU squad stood in front of the large white board trying to decide where to take the investigation. They were under enormous pressure to announce a lead, or even a minor development, but they had nothing but two dead fourteen-year-old boys and a duffle bag full of lacrosse gear.
"Ok," Benson said, "let's look at the families. James and Jarvis lived in one of the most violent places in Manhattan. Do they have gang ties?"
"Both moms said no," Fin answered.
"Other relatives?"
"I talked to both moms. Both young single parents, and mostly women in the families."
"The only thing we got from interviewing their friends and teammates was that they smoked weed every once in a while," Rollins added.
"Where's the list of their teammates?"
Carisi rifled through a folder, pulled out a paper, and gave it to Benson, "Here you go, Lieutenant."
Benson scanned the list and noticed an unchecked name. "What about this one? Kelvin Phillips?"
"He left the team," Dodds informed her, "boys didn't give a reason."
Olivia kept reading through the list. Kelvin Phillips was the only one who was not interviewed. Sloppy work, Dodds. "How long ago?"
"About a month."
"Fin, Rollins, go up to Harlem and talk to Kelvin. That's the only loose end we have right now."
"Dodds, Carisi, let's go back over everything—witness statements, the family, friends, everything. Maybe we missed something."
…..
Later that night, Olivia found Tucker waiting for her at the bar of a neighborhood bistro. The restaurant was a very un-Tucker-like place. There were no televisions; the only entertainment was a three-piece band. The space was open and airy, and the crepe chandeliers draped everything and everyone in a dim reddish hue. The bistro was situated on a busy corner, and both street-facing walls were covered in plate glass. A few weeks ago, they would have chosen a less conspicuous spot.
Ed was at the bar when she arrived, two glasses of red wine in front of him. He wore khakis and a simple black oxford open at the neck. Olivia waved aside the host and made a beeline towards Ed who stood and wrapped her in his arms. "Hi there," he held her away from him for a second as if he hadn't seen her in years.
She smiled, unable to hide the affection in her eyes, not that she wanted to hide it. "Hey."
He pulled her in for a kiss and lingered there for a few seconds. He let his hands slide from the middle of her back down to her hips and felt her quiver ever so slightly. Having her so close sent little flutters of arousal shooting through his body. He took a deep breath. Even after a full day he caught a faint whiff of whatever it was she used on her hair, kissed her once more, and then handed her the glass of wine.
"I went for a Chianti," he sounded hopeful, "that alright?"
He ordered a drink for her? How adorable. "Of course. Thank you."
She started to get comfortable on the plush bar chair, but Ed stopped her. "I got us a table…for a change."
On cue, the host came over. "Mr. Tucker? Do you want to be seated now?"
Olivia thought Tucker's name with "Mister" in front of it sounded weird. She and Tucker followed the waiter to a table for two that looked out over Amsterdam Avenue. The street was bustling with activity. Smartly dressed people rushed by, the indifferent expression ubiquitous to all New Yorkers plastered across their faces, cab drivers blared their horns at jaywalking pedestrians, and the neighborhood's outdoor patios swelled with people enjoying the unusually warm April evening.
"This is so nice," Olivia gushed, "Thank you for agreeing to try this place."
Tucker looked around, assessing the ambience, and tried to sound slightly put out by being removed from his comfort zone, "I pick the place next time," he teased good-naturedly.
"Deal," she agreed.
Ed wasn't that unhappy, plus, the lighting enhanced the sparkle in Olivia's brown eyes and the enthusiasm in her slightly flushed cheeks. Her happiness radiated outward. He liked to think it was because of him, but it was probably because they were finally sitting down to a carefree romantic dinner at a table situated next to a window. So, it was sort of because of him. He'd take it.
"Do you like the music?" He asked.
Olivia hadn't been listening closely, so she took a few seconds to concentrate on the sounds coming from the small, slightly elevated stage in the opposite corner. There was a keyboardist who also served as the lead vocalist and the two other members played the bass guitar and a small drum set. They alternated between standards and slower versions of modern pop songs. Olivia thought it added to the hip, classy ambiance. "I do," she answered, suspecting Ed felt just the opposite, "how about you?"
He surprised her, "Not bad."
"You're lying," Olivia kidded him.
"Well, I'm not going to ask them for an autograph or anything," he admitted, "but it works for this place."
"Well, I know you like U2," Olivia remembered him playing it the day Noah got hurt at the park, "Are they your favorite?"
"Either them or Springsteen. Or the Stones."
"Did you see Springsteen at the Garden in January?"
Ed shook his head regretfully, "No. I waited too long to get tickets. I heard it was a good show, though."
Olivia remembered reading that Springsteen's tour celebrating the 35th Anniversary of The River was coming back to New York, to Brooklyn, later on in the month. She didn't mention it to Ed, but she did make a mental note to try and somehow get tickets.
"I haven't been to a concert in years," Olivia said, "I did go to the Blue Note Jazz Festival in the park last summer."
Ed's eyes widened, "You did? I was there with Brooke. She's the jazz fan in the family."
"Maybe we can check the calendar and go again with her this year."
He found it endearing that Olivia suggested they do something so, well, normal, and that she wanted to include his daughter. He didn't see his girls much, especially Sarah who lived in Philadelphia, but he kept in regular contact with them and had talked about Olivia more than once. He had never mentioned a romantic interest to them before now, so he hoped his daughters got the message that he was very serious about her. It was also comforting to hear Olivia anticipate an event occurring months down the road. With the exception of all things Noah-related, he never heard her really plan ahead for anything other than the immediate future.
"I'm sure she'd like that," Ed affirmed, "and so would I." Out of the corner of his eye, Tucker noticed two couples swaying in one another's arms on the small dance floor adjacent to the stage.
He stood up suddenly and held out his hand. Olivia stared up at him, perplexed.
"Dance with me."
Olivia did not protest. She placed her hand in his and allowed herself to be led to the dance floor. Ed disregarded traditional technique and slid his arms around her waist, again pulling her close and, for the second time that evening, experienced the addictive thrill of having her body pressed against his.
At first, Olivia wrapped her arms around Ed's neck and rested her head against his shoulder. She felt safe and soaked up the comforting sensation of his arms around her. He kissed her forehead, and she tilted her head back, silently requesting something a little more intimate. Ed met her lips carefully, tenderly, and gazed at her lovingly. She lightly stroked the nape of his neck with her fingertips and kissed him again, this time opening her mouth a little, inviting an even more passionate kiss, lost in the romance of the moment. The band ended one song and immediately began another, a cover of a John Mayer song.
You love, who you love
Who you love
You love, who you love
Who you love
Ed tightened his hold on her, and she returned her head to his shoulder. For the first time, an unfamiliar but welcome sense of optimism flooded Olivia's mind, body, and soul.
Even the band was cooperating.
…
A combination of moonlight and streetlight cast a grayish blue illumination over Ed and Olivia as they lay tangled in covers, heads on the same pillow, eyes fixated on one another. As usual, Ed hadn't quite had his fill of her, and he ran his fingers over her smooth back in a figure-eight pattern.
"Something very important happened tonight, Olivia." Even in the dimly lit room she could see his blue eyes still blazing with infatuation for her.
"What's that?" She asked, expecting him to tease her with some obscure detail about their eclectically-prepared dinner or their protracted session on the dance floor.
"We managed to go a whole night without talking about work."
Olivia raised her eyebrows in genuine astonishment then smiled as she ran a hand across Ed's cheek, "See? I knew trying a new place was a good idea."
Feeling sleepy, she turned and burrowed herself closer to Ed, her back against his chest, his arm now draped across her bare belly.
"But remember," he whispered insistently, "I pick next time."
She couldn't be sure, but it felt like she fell asleep smiling.