Title: Frailty
Author: ZombieJazz
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.
Summary: As Olivia adjusts to her new squad, her family life is again shaken. She must struggle to find a way to balance her past and questions about her own lineage and her son's paternity while trying to find answers that her child's life are dependant on. Through it she's forced to re-examine the meaning of family, marriage, motherhood, and the significance her job plays in her life. This story takes place about a year after the conclusion of Undeserved in my AU series of stories and is a direct continuation of where Rollercoaster was headed.
Author's Notes: This AU series is for SVU fans and readers who want Olivia to have something that resembles a more normal life outside of work and a family of her own - hopefully somewhat realistically within the canon of SVU. My stories are not EO and never will be. You may want to read some of my other ones for context on the characters in this AU first - though, it's likely fairly self-explanatory on its own too.
WARNING: THIS STORY MIGHT KIND OF BE A SPOILER FOR READERS OF UNDESERVED AND A DEFINITE SPOILER FOR ROLLERCOASTER.
THIS STORY IS A CONTINUATION OF WHERE ROLLERCOASTER WAS HEADED. AS THAT STORY IS CURRENTLY AT A STANDSTILL BUT I GET SEVERAL REGULAR REQUESTS ABOUT THE STATUS OF THE LIV/WILL/NOAH STORIES, I DECIDED TO PROVIDE THIS GLIMPSE OF WHERE IT WAS/IS HEADED. THIS STORY MAY EXIST AS A STANDALONE OR MAY EVENTUALLY BE ABSORBED INTO ROLLERCOASTER AT SOME POINT IN THE FUTURE.
Will looked across the table at Noah. He was putting on quite the display – completely slumped down in his chair, a pout so big a bumblebee could land on it, and his arms crossed defiantly across his chest. But he also looked completely washed out and tired – probably more so than any of them wanted to truly acknowledge or admit.
The behavior shouldn't be entirely unexpected. Noah did have a stubborn streak. How couldn't he considering where some of his genes came from. Those crossed arms just screamed Olivia – and usually when he did it, Will couldn't help but have to force himself to hide a smile because he looked so much like his mom when she was demonstrating just how pissed off she was and just how unlikely it was that she was going to give away in the argument. But, still, Will knew that Olivia hated when Noah acted out of line in front of company. It didn't matter that the company was his parents and they'd more than seen their share of unruly, rude, and unappreciative kids over the years between him and his brothers and a flurry of grandchildren – most of whom lived next door.
Still, Olivia liked to rule over her child with a bit of a iron grip. She was loving – but strict. And, even though Noah had his share of temper tantrums and talk-backs and lack of manners – when they were out in public or they had company (whoever that was), Olivia tended to be far less lenient with it. Even after Noah was sick, she'd still maintained rules and sternness with him. And even with everything going on now, it didn't look like she intended to change that. Though, he could also see the waiver in her as she tried to talk her son into eating.
"Noah, please, sit up straight and eat your dinner," she pressed at him again.
She'd already said it to him several times throughout the meal but he'd remained steadfast in his refusal to eat. Usually when Noah didn't want to it, it was Olivia who could still manage to convince him. But apparently not that night. Noah had decided he wasn't going to eat and he wasn't budging. Will suspected it was attribution for what had happened that day. He was unimpressed and he was letting them know it in the sort of way that only a seven-year-old could.
Little kids didn't have too much control over things going on in their lives. One thing Noah could control was if he was going to eat. It wasn't exactly like they could force feed him. At least not quite yet.
"I'm not hungry," Noah spat out again, and this time reached his hand out and pushed his dinner plate away from his place at the table – hard, making it clatter and some of the untouched contents fall onto the tabletop.
Will could feel his parents watching the scene – possibly measuring it a bit. But they'd mostly remained quiet and had let him and Olivia try to manage it. At the beginning he'd mostly been ignoring him – figuring he'd pick at his plate, because that's what he usually did anyways. They'd still chitchatted with his mom and dad but as Noah's physical defiance became more and more pronounced, Will and Olivia had both become a bit more engaged in ordering him to show some manners and to eat his dinner. Dad had tried too – offering some friendly teasing. But it'd become just as apparent to him that Noah wasn't interested in his input and he'd known enough to quickly shut-up and leave it up to them instead. Thankfully, Mom had somehow stayed out of it too, which was some sort of God send because usually she really didn't know when to keep her mouth shut – especially when it came to food. But Will could see the looking of concern creasing more and more into her face. He could tell she was weighing the situation. That she was trying to determine exactly what was going on – and that she likely had her suspicions. It was painted across her face.
Olivia pointed at the chicken wing and salad that had tumbled off his plate. "Pick that up," she ordered. "Sit up, and eat."
Noah glared but he at least sat forward and messily cleaned up his mess, glaring at his mom while he did it but then at least licking his fingers free of the wing sauce after he dropped the drumstick back in place.
"Pretty good, right?" Will tried. "Why don't you eat that one?"
"No!" Noah said.
Olivia let out a bit softer sigh. Will knew this was hard for her. She was exhausted too. She was beyond drained. Her head was in a million different places and her heart was breaking into a million pieces again – and in a way she didn't know if it could ever be repaired. She hated having to be stern with her son right now. Will knew that what she likely wanted to do was hold him. Or to just curl into a ball again and cry. Or to order him to invent a time machine and some how go back in time and figure out how to fix this so this just didn't happen. Actually, that's probably more something that he wanted. Olivia wouldn't imagine something so impractical.
"Sweets," she tried a bit more gently. "Daddy picked out these chicken wings just for you. They're your favorite."
"No they aren't," Noah put back to her. "They make me want to puke."
Will had a wing halfway to his mouth when Noah said it and somehow the assertion and the sudden realization made him draw it away and put it back on his plate, wiping at his fingers and contemplating the dinner.
Will had picked up the boxed frozen chicken wings because they'd always been their old standby. One of the few undisputable items that they'd near always be able to get Noah to choke down on his months and months and months of chemotherapy. They weren't exactly what Will would classify as food. Prior to Noah being sick it was something he hadn't really eaten since college – except for the occasional time at the pub as a treat. But when they'd realized it was something their son would eat – they hadn't really cared what their nutritional value was. Hell, they also fed him endless quesadillas and peanut butter out of the jar. Him just eating counted for something.
Will had near automatically made the executive decision it'd be chicken wings for dinner that night when he'd been sent to the store to pick up something for dinner with his parents over. He hadn't thought much of it beyond it was something Noah liked (or so he thought) and it would be quick and easy. He knew neither he nor Olivia really felt like cooking – or having company – even though they needed to have a face-to-face talk with his parents.
But what Will hadn't thought about in his menu choice was that beyond eating the chicken wings, Noah had also done a whole lot of puking up chicken wings during that period of his life. And Will and Olivia had done a whole lot of cleaning up chicken wings in various states of digestion. It hadn't thought of it at the time. He hadn't even thought about it while he was eating his helping of the wings. But now that Noah had said it – he could absolutely see how chicken wings made his son want to puke. It was making him want to puke a bit himself now too.
"If you aren't going to eat your chicken wings, eat some of the salad or the fries, sweets," Olivia pressed.
"No," Noah said again. "I'm not hungry."
"Noah, we never have French fries," Olivia said. "I don't believe you that you don't want to have any of your fries."
"I don't want any of it," Noah said again and pouted even harder.
"You're being very rude," Olivia said. "Daddy picked dinner just for you. We spent time making it and we have Nana and Popa here with us. You are showing very poor manners."
"I don't care," Noah said very firmly.
Olivia sighed and rubbed at her eyebrow. "Then, I'd like you to leave the table, Noah. So everyone else can enjoy the rest of their meal without this show. Please asked to be excused."
He shot her a glare but put very bluntly, "Can I be excused?" It didn't come out as much of a question. It was more of a clear demand.
"Yes," Olivia allowed. "Please go to your bedroom."
"I wanna watch TV!" Noah spat abruptly.
"You're going to go and play quietly in your room and take a bit of a rest," she said. "And when you've calmed down and you're ready to be polite, you can come out and have a visit with Nana and Popa before they go."
Noah's glare got firmer but he stood, pushing his chair back in a way that it tottered and Will thought it might fall. But May reached out her hand and steadied it, giving Noah's back a little shrug before he stormed away. The whole table watched as he did and listened as his door loudly slammed as he disappeared down the hallway.
"Well, I guess you just can't beat Popa's ribs," Ted offered in a small tease after the slam had finished echoing.
Olivia gave him a thin smile at his effort but then directed her eyes to her plate.
"Sorry about that," she offered quietly. "He's not himself today."
Ted shrugged. "We all have our good days and bad. He'll come around," he assured.
Olivia allowed a small nod and picked at her salad with her fork, not drawing any of it to her mouth.
"Well, I think these wings are good, Willie," Ted offered.
"They're just out of a box, Dad," Will said flatly.
Ted shrugged. "Taste fine to me. Where'd you get them?"
"Just the grocery store."
"Which one?" Ted asked in a clearly vain attempt to have any sort of small talk. "Maybe I can track us down some to put in the freezer at home."
"Ah …," Will considered that for a moment. He couldn't even remember what store he'd gone into that afternoon. That's what a blur the day was. It had felt like he was living in a different dimension. That he wasn't really there. That he was having some sort of outer body experience and he was watching and listening and hearing all this happening to some other family. Not his. "I'm not sure …"
He could feel his father looking at him, but he chose not to meet his eyes. He didn't want to.
"The salad is excellent too, Olivia," May tried after a silence had hung around the table.
"It's out of a bag," Olivia provided at a near whisper.
"Oh …," May returned and now eyed Olivia's downturned head.
Will knew that salad out of a bag might be even more telling to his parents – even if everything that had happened so far that night wasn't. But their family lived on salads and they were often elaborate, colorful affairs. Will had his own flair but Liv could go to town with the greens just as much as him. And was more willing to try other types of salads and toppings too. A ready-made bagged salad was near unheard of for them – especially when they were eating at home.
"I'm going to check on him," Olivia said quietly and moved to rise from the table.
Will briefly met her eyes. "Babe, he's fine. He's just not hungry. Let him calm down. We'll get something into him later."
She gave her head a small shake and started to move passed him. He reached and took her hand as she did. She gave him a thin smile at his efforts but continued to walk – holding his hand while she did, until their arms were at full length and her fingers grazed over his and slipped away.
Will sort of felt like all of it was slipping away. Repeatedly. Each minute of that day.
He watched her make her way through the living room and down the short hallway to Noah's door, tapping on it and then cracking it open, saying something inaudible and then disappearing inside and the door clicking shut again.
Will continued looking even though he could feel his parents' eyes on him. He finally looked back to his meal and cast them a small glance.
"He's a little out of sorts, ain't he?" Ted offered.
Will shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Just one of those days."
But he could see the tears glassing at his wife's eyes when she'd left the table. He wondered if his parents had noticed too. He also knew, though, that Olivia would've pulled them back in – deep inside her – before she stepped into Noah's room. She wouldn't have gone in if she hadn't. Her son wasn't allowed to see her tears.
"William … is everything alright?" May asked gently after an uncomfortable silence hung around the table for after too long.
"Not really," Will acknowledged after sitting there for another long uncomfortable beat. He didn't know how to answer. This hadn't gone according to plan. It wasn't the way they'd meant to tell them or how they'd intended to have the conversation. He still wasn't sure he should say anything with Olivia away from the table.
"Because we know that you'd said you had something you needed to talk to us about …" May tried to press further.
Will glanced down the hall toward the bedroom door, again weighing if he should talk or if he should wait. He hung his head instead of saying anything.
"You know, Willie, if there's something going on that we can help with …" Ted tried.
Will let out a shaky breath and looked up to find his dad's eyes. He couldn't look at his mom when he said this. He could only imagine her expression and that imagined look was too much even. Though, he could feel his eyes welling and he hated his father seeing that too. But somehow it seemed like the least of the evils.
"Noah's counts are all out of whack," Will said. He saw his father nod and his mouth open slightly like he was going to say something – offer some sort of reassurance. But Will couldn't take that right now. He couldn't hear it – so he pushed on, cutting him off before he could say anything. "No, it's bad," he added. "He's out of remission." He heard his mother gasp. "They don't think just chemo will work this time. They're recommending a transplant."
Saying it had shaken him. Saying it out loud felt differently then all the medical words and phrases and jargon they'd had thrown at them over the past two days. Saying it made it feel more real and more final and more awful. As it shook him to his core, it also shook his shoulders. He felt the tears pressing at the backs of his eyes and the sobs threatening to come out. But he couldn't do that in front of his parents.
He pushed his chair back to rise.
"William …" May called, holding out her hand across the table to him, trying to get him to sit down or to come around to her for a hug. For some sort of comfort.
But he just gave his head a small shake. "I'm going to go check on them," he said and padded away.
That walk from the table to the bedroom door felt like a marathon.