AN: Back again. Like I mentioned in the original author's note, this story will be out of order. So for this one, we will travel back in time a bit. This one takes place somewhere in the gap between season 16 & 17. (Post Surrendering Noah). Hope you like it!


"Knock, knock."

She wasn't surprised when she looked up to find Lieutenant Tucker gracing the doorway of her office. Despite her squad's recent drop in existential crises, his visits to the sixteenth precinct had become more and more frequent. Relaying a message, giving a heads up, "just checking in"—there was always some excuse that halfway sounded like he had conjured it up on the ride to the station. An influx in Tucker sightings wasn't something Olivia was unaccustomed to, seeing as how she always managed to find herself partnered up with a human IAB magnet. Only now, when he strode into her office, his presence carried an unfamiliar aura - one she couldn't quite put her finger on. All she knew was that she didn't hate it. Not at all.

"Tucker," she greeted him, pushing her glasses on top of her head, "What did I do now?"

"Benson," he nodded, closing the door behind him, "Chipper as always to see me."

Allowing a hint of a smile to crack her expression, she pushed back in her chair to settle into a more relaxed posture.

"Sixteen years of practice will do that to you," she quipped, "What can I do for you?"

"Just checking in," there it was, "You know, to see if you've given any more thought to that lieutenant's exam."

She didn't even bother to conceal the heavy sigh of annoyance, rolling her eyes to emphasize the point. Tucker raised his hands in defense.

"Hey, it's not me. The guys upstairs are starting to press in on this. They said SVU has been under too much fire the last few years to let this slide under the radar for long."

"Thanks," she remarked bitterly, "I don't need a reminder, believe me."

He offered a hint of what looked like sympathy before continuing.

"Speaking of…" He shifted his gaze, and if she hadn't known any better, she might have thought he was nervous, " How are things going around here since... Everything?"

A small ping of sadness dripped into the pit of her stomach as she remembered her last goodbye with Nick, seeing him off to the airport with a bittersweet hug. All glistening eyes and choked up voices, it wasn't the type of emotional exchange she was used to. But that was kind of the point. Sad as she was to see him go, he had at least given her the goodbye that she had been denied in the past. The goodbye she deserved. Even so, his absence could be felt in the heavy air of the squad room, his loss cutting deep into the morale of the team as they struggled to find new footing.

"It's tough, but we're surviving," she allowed, dropping her gaze to the grainy wood of her desk, "It's kind of what we do around here."

When she met his eyes again, he returned the smile but winced a bit at the subtle implication. Ever since the disaster with her abduction that had shaken SVU two years prior, there had been a certain thickness that occupied the room between Tucker and her. A sense of knowing that could never really be reversed. Snaking its way in between all the pre-established animosity, there was now this new strand of untouched territory in Tucker and Olivia's relationship. There were certain things he couldn't unsee. Like words on a page, spelling out the candid details of four days worth of dehumanizing torture. Or two pools of brown that, for the first time in 15 years, had been robbed of their sparkling fight. In all their years of feuding, Edward Tucker never would have expected his heart to ache so heavily at the sight of a battered and broken Olivia Benson. He never would have expected her untamed ferocity to be something he missed until he watched it disappear in her eyes. Somewhere along the line, he found his sympathy had morphed into respect. Watching her conquer hell and continue to climb the ranks had planted an undeniable admiration in him. Their dynamic had shifted irreversibly, and part of him suspected that it didn't stop at "respect." They'd been out for a drinks a couple of times in the recent months, though many of those instances were initiated by work - much to his disappointment. It was all pretty unclear and fervently unspoken, what was going on between them, but it was definitely something new.

Olivia caught his brief moment of hesitation, clearing her throat to fill the silence that had spilled into the room.

"So, uh," she shifted, "Besides the relentless harassment about an exam I never offered to take, was there anything else you needed?"

He rolled his eyes, grateful for the tension release.

"Not today," he remarked slyly, backing toward the door, "But knowing your people's track record…"

"Goodbye, Tucker."

Laughing, he turned to leave, but froze mid step as his hand hit the knob. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before spinning back around on his heel. There was that look of uncharacteristic nervousness again.

"Actually," he cleared his throat, "There was this one other thing. I wasn't going to bring it up, but-"

Olivia couldn't help but automatically assume the worst.

"Oh, God," she closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Which one of them was it this time? Let me guess. Carisi? Amanda? I swear, I should just start having the suspension paperwork mass produced and delivered to my office by the truckload."

"No," he replied, barely concealing his smirk, "Though I'm inspired by your vote of confidence."

She breathed a sarcastic chuckle, running a hand through her hair. He noted how nice it was to see a smile grace her expression.

"No, uh, it's nothing IAB worthy. It's..." he straightened up, trying to assert semblance of authority because, dammit, he was a veteran officer who had stared down some of the worst criminal offenders this country had to offer, so surely he shouldn't be floundering like a high school freshman about to ask the cheerleader to the prom, "It's about the Lieutenants dinner next Saturday. It's this formal shindig they throw once a year for all the boroughs, and… well, the company isn't great, but the food's pretty decent, and I'm required to go, so…"

Olivia blinked up at him, her mouth slightly agape.

"And… you're asking me to go with you?" she supplied, not missing the slight twinge of relief that passed over his face.

"Well, you know," he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets, "Since you're going to be kicking it with the big dogs pretty soon - provided you suck it up and take the damn test already - I figured it would be a nice head start."

Well, this was unexpected. She blinked again, almost failing to comprehend what was happening. Lieutenant Tucker, dark lord of IAB and all things problematic for as long as she had known him, was asking her on a date. Ish. The Olivia Benson of a few short years ago was either mortified or laughing in hysterics. She couldn't even imagine Elliot's reaction if he were there to see it. Or Nick's. The thought alone was admittedly entertaining, and almost enough reason in itself to accept the offer.

"I, ah," she stumbled over her words, hoping that the shock wasn't as apparent on her face as it felt, "Yeah. Sure."

"Great," he nodded, "So I'll have the car swing by around 7?"

"Sending a car?" She asked, almost mockingly.

Tucker smirked, shrugging it off like it was no big deal before turning toward the door once again.

"Welcome to the high life, Benson."


The wind began to pick up outside the banquet hall, catching wisps of her black dress around her legs. The lacey material that covered her chest and shoulders did little to combat the nighttime chill that fell over the city, and Olivia tugged at her sweater as colleagues and higher ups passed her by. Most of them sported a wife on their arm, some with women that had to be at least half their age, wearing dresses more form fitting than some bandaids Olivia owned. She was out of her comfort zone - what she wouldn't give to be back in her black denim and leather jacket, gun and badge on her hip. With every couple that walked into the building, she grew more and more conscious of the small voice echoing in her head: What are you doing here? A glance at her watch told her she had ten minutes until the event started, yet Tucker was nowhere to be found. He had let her know by phone that he was stuck at the office for an emergency, but that he would meet her at the hall with plenty of time to spare. Of course, she understood that more than anyone else. Unfortunately, it also meant that he was giving her too much time to think. To reconsider. To run. Seriously, what are you doing?

She had been out with Tucker a few times now, for drinks and mostly-work-related conversation, but these casual instances were not enough for her to get a grip on the situation. Whatever this thing was between them, it was unexpected and only beginning to unfold. And it was not yet sturdy enough to relieve the dissonance she felt. There was a list of things she couldn't ignore - the mental list of "pros" - like the way her heart now skipped instead of sinking when Tucker walked into a room or the way he let his gaze linger on her for a moment too long before he had to leave. On the other hand, there was the arguably longer list of "cons." The history. The bad blood. The actual, physical file full of a decade and a half worth of grievances. The flirtation was undeniable, the sudden chemistry was palpable, but it wasn't bulletproof. It left her in a tough spot with a lot to consider, but that's just it - she was willing to consider.

"Olivia," Tucker's voice approached from behind, pulling her from her thoughts. She spun around to greet him, ignoring the jolt in her pulse.

"Hey, sorry I'm…" He stopped short when she turned to him, his lips parting at the full sight of her. He swallowed hard.

"Late."

Olivia felt warmth creeping into her cheeks, but not without a smirk to accompany it. She couldn't ignore the way she enjoyed making him react.

"You look beautiful, Lieutenant," he commented, allowing his eyes to fall briefly to her dress.

"It's not lieutenant yet," she warned, but his mouth turned up at the corner.

"You said yet. That means there's hope."

"Come on," she rolled her eyes, putting on her best sarcastic enthusiasm, "We don't want to miss the commissioner's opening speech."

She swore his whole face lit up when she hooked her arm through his.

"God forbid."


"I promise I won't keep you long. I know you're all anxious to get to the open bar," Deputy Commissioner Abraham joked from behind the podium, eliciting a murmur of laughter from the crowd of blue suits.

"It's been a good year so far for the NYPD. Crime stats are low this quarter, and we've managed to keep the newsworthy personal scandals to a minimum," he paused for laughter again, "If we could keep up this particular pattern for the next year, it would make my life a lot easier. I'm sure IAB would appreciate the break, too."

Next to her, Tucker brushed off the comment with a smirk as every eye in the surrounding area turned to him. Olivia's heart jumped at the sudden awareness of their publicity. It had occurred to her prior to the date that people might give a few lingering glances, but the thought felt a lot heavier under the weight of their colleague's spotlight. She faked a smile for the crowd. Tucker must have sensed her unease, because once the attention began to stray back to Abraham's speech, a rough hand covered hers under the table. The gesture was well concealed from the crowd, his thumb rubbing over the back of her hand, and she blinked in surprise. Though startled, she felt the tension melt away at the gentleness of his touch. When she looked over at him, he was smiling back.

"But tonight is about celebration, and honoring the work that you all do for this city," Olivia tuned back into the tail end of Hank's speech, "So the dance floor is open, dinner is served, and drinks are on the NYPD. Enjoy your night out - I know you don't get a lot of them."

The crowd met the end of his speech with applause and cheering, followed by the scraping of chairs as party goers began to mingle. Tucker had finally let go of Olivia's hand.

"You hungry?" He asked.

"A little. I could go for a drink, though."

"Me, too," he concurred, "What would you like? I can get it for you."

As he stood up from the chair, Olivia took a nervous sweep of their table, noting that most of the couples around them were colleagues of Tucker's.

"You know what? I'll come with you," she pushed up from her chair beside him. He shot her a curious look as they crossed the dance floor, headed for the bar.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah," she answered a little too quickly, "I just…"

"Didn't want to answer any prying questions?" He supplied. The smile she returned was almost apologetic.

"Yes, that."

"You ashamed to be seen with me, Benson?" His tone was light, but his voice betrayed just the slightest hint of insecurity.

"That's not the case. I wouldn't have agreed to come if I didn't want to be here," she assured, "I'm just wading through some mixed feelings about… this. And I'd rather not do it in front of a crowd."

"No, I get it," he nodded as they approached the bar, filling two empty stools in the middle. He paused to acknowledge the bartender, "I'll take a bourbon."

"A glass of merlot."

As the bartender turned to prepare their drinks, he focused his attention back to her.

"I don't blame you, you know."

She raised her eyebrows.

"That's a first, coming from your mouth."

"Funny," he deadpanned, "But seriously, I get your apprehension. There's no pressure here."

"That's good to know," she took a long sip of her wine when the bartender set it down, cringing a bit at the cheap taste. Figures, NYPD wouldn't splurge on the good stuff.

"But I like you, Olivia. A lot. And I want you to know, explicitly, that I want to explore this - whatever this is. My cards are on the table."

It was by miracle alone that she didn't spit her mouthful of wine across the bar at his declaration. Obviously she had known this, or some hint of this, for a while. But it was the brazen honesty that knocked her off her feet.

"Noted," she managed, playing off her shock, "But what if I don't like to mix business with pleasure? It hasn't worked out well for me in the past."

He could have chosen then to ask about her past, to play the sympathetic listener, the shoulder to cry on. But her face, and his history with her, told him that was the last thing she wanted. Instead, he opted for what he really wanted to do. He scooted closer to her on his barstool, reigning their conversation in to a more intimate level that the crowd around them couldn't penetrate. He placed a hand on her waist and leaned in so close that she could almost feel his whisper against her ear

"Are you saying you consider me pleasurable?"

A wave of heat seemed to emanate from the spot where his hand touched her dress, spreading through her body like a wildfire. She swallowed hard, trying to suppress the sudden and startling urge to close the distance between their lips.

"Ed Tucker!" A loud voice from beside them sent them both reeling, snapping apart like two teenagers caught under the bleachers. She crossed her arms over her chest while he shoved his hands into his pockets, doing their best attempt at casual. Recognition flashed in Tucker's eyes as he registered the man's greeting, extending one arm out for a handshake.

"Harvey Wallace," he nodded curtly, "Good to see you again."

But Wallace bypassed his professional gesture, moving in for the bear hug, his drink in hand teetering precariously over Tucker's shoulder. Olivia raised her eyebrows at the drunken exchange.

"What's it been - 5 years now since that UC stint?" He slurred, pulling back from the hug with a strong slap to the shoulder. She detected a slight cringe of annoyance in Tucker's eyes.

"Something like that."

"And who's this?" The man shifted his attention toward Olivia, taking her in with a once over that made her stomach twist, "You finally get yourself a new old lady, Eddie?"

She wondered if the step Tucker took closer to her was intentional. She suspected it was.

"No. This is Sergeant Olivia Benson from Manhattan special victims," he said tightly, then lightened his tone when he turned to her and winked, "And soon to be Lieutenant."

But Harvey paid no attention to their private exchange, instead staring intently at Olivia, as if trying to reconcile something in his mind.

"I know you from somewhere," he pointed to her, his finger nearly brushing her nose. She pulled back.

"Ah, no, I don't believe we've met," she replied, trying to keep a polite facade, though her annoyance was surely seeping through.

"No, I'm sure of it," he insisted, studying her with an uncomfortable amount of scrutiny, "I couldn't forget those beautiful brown eyes of yours."

Beside her, Tucker stiffened, but Olivia barely registered his shift in demeanor over the pounding of blood in her ears. Her body felt hot all over.

"Wait!" He stopped, his eyes growing wide, "I know where I've seen you. Manhattan sex crimes - you're that detective who got kidnapped last year! Your face was all over the news."

Olivia thought she was going to throw up. She wanted to say something to diffuse the situation, and what she really wanted to do was deck this guy in the face, but she was frozen.

"Alright, that's enough," Tucker practically growled, leaning in toward Wallace. The intoxicated man stumbled back a few steps, raising his hands in surrender, spilling a stream of beer down his shirt in the process.

"Relax, Eddie," he laughed, then turned back to Olivia, "Always so uptight, this one."

"The only thing that's going to be uptight is my shoe in your ass if you don't walk away right now," Tucker threatened, finally breaking through Olivia's trance. She gaped at him.

"Lay off the sauce," he continued, "And go home to your wife, Wallace. Unless she finally wised up and left you."

Wallace's face screwed into an ugly scowl at the comment, stumbling back even further.

"Screw you, Tucker," he spat, winking at Olivia before he left, "Give me a call when you're bored with this one, sweetheart. It won't take long."

They watched in silent anger as the man staggered away, disappearing into the crowd.

"I could have handled myself," Olivia spoke up bitterly, though her frustration was aimed more at herself than him.

"I know you could have," he said seriously, "I saved you the trouble. Besides, you're still playing the political game with this bump in leadership. I have enough seniority where I could probably get away a couple of stray fists over bourbon."

"You weren't going to hit him."

He cocked his head.

"Don't be so sure. He's had it coming for a long time, trust me."

She almost argued, but she figured he was probably right.

"You okay?" He asked seriously, lowering his voice to evade the people around them.

"Yeah," she said, but he didn't miss the slight quiver in her voice, "Yeah, I- I think I'm going to head home, though."

"I'll walk you," he offered immediately.

"No, that's alright. They haven't even served dinner yet. You should stay."

He shrugged.

"I think I've stayed long enough to make my appearance known."

"Tucker-"

"Olivia, I came here to spend the evening with you."

This silenced her. He smiled.

"Let me walk you home?"

She smiled back.

"Okay."


"I'm sorry about what happened tonight," Tucker cracked the tension as they approached her block. Olivia had remained silent most of the way, thoroughly embarrassed by the events that brought their night crashing down. "You didn't deserve that."

"It happens," she said. Her cryptic tone made his heart sink, implying that tonight's encounter was something she had become used to.

"It shouldn't."

"I know."

A few beats passed. The breeze that passed over them sent a chill down Olivia's spine. She pulled Ed's suit jacket, which he had loaned her earlier in the walk, tighter around her shoulders.

"Can I be candid with you?" Tucker asked.

"Why stop now?"

He chuckled nervously.

"We have a, uh… A history," he said.

No kidding, she thought.

"I know I have a long way to go before I can earn your trust," he continued, "But I intend to do just that, if you'll have me."

"Tucker…"

"I'm not saying you have to decide now," he clarified as they slowed to a stop in front of her building. "I'm asking you to think about it. I'm not going to push you, I promise. But I'm going to show you I'm serious about this."

Her eyes danced over his face, still unable to believe the surreality of this development.

"Okay," she said.

"Okay?"

"I'm…" She let her eyes wander, "I'm not saying no."

His breath of relief was unabashed, and she almost laughed at his open display of vulnerability.

"I can work with that," he said.

Just as she looked like she was heading for a goodnight, Tucker mustered all the courage he could and channeled it into a brave voice.

"Would it be brazen of me to ask for a kiss goodnight?"

She blinked.

"Yes."

He nodded, folding his hands in front of him.

"I understand."

But before he could process the rejection, her hand slipped into his, her body drawing close.

"It would be brazen," she said, "But like I said… I'm not saying no."