AN: Back again after a ridiculous update gap, this time with a chapter that takes place during the events of Intersecting Lives. You know, the episode that was basically an open minefield of "Undercover" references that were never utilized. So this chapter is my attempt at rectifying such missed opportunities. Warnings for dark subject matter.
She needed a drink.
That was all she could think as she took her apartment steps two at a time. In all actuality, she's needed a drink since the moment she picked up her phone that afternoon and heard Fin's voice, cautious and heavy with the promise of danger on the other had been both hesitant and urgent in bringing this case to her, and as it turned out, he was right to be. Her brain had sort of shut down after processing the words "raped" and "corrections officer," floating back to a dark time where orange jumpsuits erased her humanity and cold basements became the place her soul went to die. It'd been years since that particular nightmare staked claim in the forefront of her mind, but with one short phone call, it all came rushing back. If the last few years of her life had taught her anything at all, it was that moving forward required a steadfast commitment and a relentless energy, but all it took to fall back was one short misstep. What took years to accomplish could come unraveled in the blink of an eye.
Yeah. She really needed a drink.
But she wouldn't be be drinking tonight. She promised Ed she would work on healthier coping mechanisms, saving alcohol exclusively for the lighter occasions, and she had a feeling she wouldn't be able to pull off any facade of lightness tonight. That didn't stop the slow burn of the craving that built in her throat, desperate for a taste to take the edge off, and it soon became a battle of the two loudest voices in her head: Would she rather risk disappointing one of the only people in her life worth making a promise to, or chance getting swept away by the demons that would surely rise to the surface if not drowned in red wine?
It must have been the first voice that chastised her the loudest, because the impending shame was enough to pull her past the liquor cabinet and straight toward the bedroom once she entered her apartment. When the living room was dark, she assumed Tucker had already taken Noah to bed for the night, and she couldn't wait to join them. Just as she passed by the bathroom on her way to change out of her work clothes, the door swung open and she jumped back in surprise, a yelp escaping her throat. It took her mind a moment to refocus as she held a hand to her chest, fingernails leaving tiny indents of red above her shirt.
"Hey, sorry to startle you," Tucker greeted her, turning to the towel-clad toddler in his arms, "This little guy was just taking bath time like a champ. Just in time for mama."
Olivia couldn't help but soften as she watched Tucker bounce her son playfully on his hip, Noah reciprocating with a high pitched giggle. The scene was enough to bring her down from the adrenaline rush, but Tucker - ever the detective - could sense the lingering tension in her demeanor.
"You okay?" He lowered his voice so Noah couldn't detect the shift in tone, but she dismissed him out of hand.
"Yeah," she exhaled, pretending to shake off her jostled nerves like they were nothing, "Just startled me. It's good to see you."
For good measure, she sealed the facade by stepping forward to place a hand on his chest, giving each of her favorite boys a kiss on the cheek.
"Were you good for Tucker?" she addressed the smiling toddler. He beamed back at her.
"Yes good!" He squealed, reaching out for her, and she gladly took him up on the request, lifting him from Tucker's arms to cradle him against her chest. She closed her eyes as she inhaled the scent of his shampoo, and it felt like she could breathe again, if only for the moment. God, how she needed to hold him after this day.
"I'm going to put him to bed and change out of these clothes," She told Tucker, waving him off to the couch, "I'll be out in a few. Feel free to grab a drink or something."
"Take your time," he said, leaning in closer, "And hey, it's good to see you, too."
When he dipped to plant a kiss on her lips, she flinched back unexpectedly, turning her head just in time to catch the kiss on her cheek instead. Tucker faltered in surprise, pulling back immediately. When she peeked up at him, there was a hint of confusion in his eyes, but more prominently, concern. She could sense the questions on the tip of his tongue, but he took her silent cue and held back for the moment. Not now. Not in front of Noah.
She emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, much more comfortable, physically, after a shower and a change of clothes. But mentally? The change had no bearing on the layer of filth she felt crawling over her skin. Tucker was waiting for her on the couch, an arm slung over the back in silent invitation to fill the space beside him. She happily obliged, curling her legs under her as she sank into the nook his body created. A deep breath filled her lungs with warm familiarity - old spice and peppermint aftershave. Usually, the charming concoction included the subtle tinge of bourbon from his lips, the absence of which did not escape her tonight. He hadn't made a big show of it, but she couldn't help but notice the gradual weaning of his evening drinks ever since he made that comment to her about slowing down. Silent solidarity.
Olivia leaned into his side, grateful for the warmth his presence provided after the long day.
"Thanks for watching Noah on such short notice," she said, settling her head on his shoulder, "Lucy had a date scheduled for tonight, and the poor kid rarely gets a night out with my crazy schedule."
"Of course," he gave her a squeeze, rubbing a hand up and down her arm, "You know you don't have to thank me for that."
"Yeah, I know," she shrugged, "It was just a huge relief to me. And it's nice having you to come home to."
Tucker saw the opening and took it, gently prodding the conversation toward his earlier suspicions.
"Yeah? Rough day?" He tried and failed to sound casual.
"Ha," she snorted, then paused, her mood growing palpably more serious, "I guess you could say that..."
"Gary just… would make me go down on him." "He'd make a stop in the chapel." "There are no cameras there." "Every female inmate knows the COs run that place…"
The haunting words from the victim's initial statement rattled off in her head, echoing off the chambers of her mind. That was when she had begun to fall, conjuring imagery she had finally tucked away after all these years. As the day went on and the case revealed more and more similarities to her own dance with the devil, she watched helplessly as the thread of her composure slowly unraveled, and she couldn't do a thing to stop it. Out of Tucker's view, Olivia squeezed her eyes shut.
"You can talk about it if you want," he made his offer as gentle as possible, and it didn't go unnoticed. She loved that about him. He knew when to push and when to fall back. No pressure, no demands - just an open invitation. Olivia weighed her options. She could just as easily tell him she was fine. That it was nothing. She could put on her Emmy award winning smile, seal it with a kiss of sarcasm, and change the tides of the conversation like an effortless dance she's performed a million times. It would be simple to avoid his concern and tell him that it was just another case file, another day on the job, even though it was so much more than that.
But avoiding it felt too much like falling into an old habit, one that consumed so much of her life before. A vicious cycle, plagued with memories of bitterness and strain. And she was finally at a place in her life where she felt like expelling the darkness didn't seem so scary. Edward Tucker came into her life as one would happen upon a freshwater spring in a drought. The discovery was beautiful and uncharted, the water spotless and clean, and the mossy green that curtained around them was so beautiful it made the rest of the world outside its barrier seem small.
But that was exactly it. The spring was beautiful, and her feet were stained with the soil of the paths she walked before. Immersing herself in the enticing heat meant risking contamination. Spreading her darkness through the water and ruining it when she's only just begun to enjoy the view. She knew all too well what happened when she let the demons infiltrate her relationships, and she was terrified of letting that happen to them. Tucker was the first man in a very long time that Olivia could see a real future with; the first man in a long time whose future she genuinely wanted to be a part of. So as welcome as he made her feel, her fear was an equal and opposite reaction. Benson's Third Law. She would never forgive herself if she messed this thing up.
"Maybe later," she decided, settling for the simplest answer to get her off the hook, "I'm just really tired."
"Okay," he replied evenly, no questions asked, "Just let me know when you want me to get out of your hair."
Her stomach twisted at the thought of him leaving her right now.
"Actually," she cleared her throat, "Um, do you think… would you like to spend the night?"
"Yeah?" He looked down at her. It was nothing unusual to have him stay overnight every once in awhile, especially recently, when they found it impossible to tear themselves away from each other at the end of the evening. But he was always sure to seek her entire approval on the matter, never wanting to overstep.
"Yeah," she replied, nuzzling further into his shirt as a sly attempt to hide her face.
"Sure, babe," he complied and she let out a breath of relief, "I'm happy to stay right where I am."
She knew it would happen one day.
She dreaded it, but she knew it was inevitable if she planned on keeping Tucker around for a while - and she did - that he would witness one of her nightmare episodes. Even though they had slowed down significantly since her last encounter with Lewis, they still made appearances in her life every so often. Grudgingly, she knew they always would. It was a part of her life now, and one she had mostly grown to accept. What she didn't plan for was taking on a case so eerily parallel to a chapter of her life she would rather forget, and throwing her back into a different circle of hell. And all the mental preparation in the world couldn't have readied her when the time finally came.
She saw his face again that night: Lowell Harris. For the first time in years, excluding the instances that arose in the aftermath of Lewis, Olivia found herself on the floor of a musty, concrete hell. Handcuffs securely fastened, back against the door, just like always. She was alone in the dark room whose walls stretched out in every direction until they faded to black, but in the distance she heard the clanging of chain link and she knew. She knew. Tears pricked at her eyes as the panic set in, hands yanking futilely at cold metal. The sound was moving closer and closer, and she could make out the heavy footfalls alongside the haunting clatter. Her restraints wouldn't budge. She was stuck. He was coming for her, and all she could do was wait. When a looming silhouette emerged from the darkness before her, she couldn't bring herself to look up. She couldn't look him in the eye knowing what was about to happen, but he was right in front of her then, his large work issue boots planted firmly on the concrete. When she heard the rustling of a zipper, she started to cry harder, squeezing her eyes and mouth shut with everything she had, but she froze when she heard the man utter a familiar phrase.
"Bite me and you're dead."
Her head snapped up at the unexpected voice, shocked to find herself staring into the cold eyes of Gary Munson. Her heart jumped inside her chest, whether from relief or fear she wasn't sure, but before she had time to process the shock she felt movement on her back and realized she was no longer sitting pressed against a thick metal door, but was instead on her feet backed against another body. A man's body. Two strong arms wrapped around her from behind, effectively trapping her between the two men, and then his mouth was on her ear and the blood drained from her face. The arms jerked her in a one-eighty, forcing her to level with the man whose face she would never forget. In an instant, all her will to fight relinquished as his haunting stare froze over her veins.
"Surprise."
"Olivia!"
The first thing she registered when she came to was hands on her wrists, holding them firmly in front of her chest, and the sensation of restraint only triggered more panic. She yanked at the hold, once, twice, and she could feel her sobs growing heavier as the grip didn't budge. She was trapped. A scream built in her throat, ready to rip free when a voice broke through her wall of terror.
"Olivia. Olivia, please, open your eyes."
Though the voice was a familiar one, there was an element of strangeness to it. A tone she never heard before in the usually solid inflection. Something like panic. Uncertainty. It was enough to snap her into focus, her eyes springing open to find her stunned boyfriend staring back at her. The world skidded to an abrupt stop, the tornado of chaos slamming on its breaks to leave her disoriented as she plummeted back to reality. She sucked in a gasp, trying fruitlessly to catch her breath. Then another. It was the two of them then, faces inches apart and all ragged breathing and frightened eyes, both desperate for the other to give them some sort of direction. Slowly, Tucker uncurled his fingers from her wrists as he realized she was no longer a danger to herself, and she retreated her shaky hands to rake the damp hair from her face.
"Hey, it's alright," he was the first to speak, his whisper laden with fear, "I'm right here."
"D-Did I wake Noah?" Olivia stammered, eyes darting in the direction of the hallway, "Did I scare him? Is he okay?"
Tucker was quick to reassure her, gently gesturing her to the baby monitor on the nightstand.
"He's fine. See? Hasn't made a sound, I promise."
Olivia stared at the monitor for a long time, letting her heart rate settle as she watched the peaceful rise and fall of her son's chest on the screen. It brought her relief. The only thing more traumatizing than having these episodes in the first place was when they woke up Noah.
She was unaware of how long she'd been staring at the screen, but it was Tucker's voice that finally called her back to focus.
"Are, uh…" He swallowed hard, "Are you okay?"
She could practically hear his pulse pounding from where she sat, and somewhere below her fog of adrenaline, her heart swelled for him. She managed a feeble nod.
"What do you need me to do?" He asked, his voice low and brimming with desperation "Anything. Just tell me."
She thought about it.
"I just… need a minute."
"Okay," he immediately pulled back, standing from the bed, "I'll be right out-"
"No, don't," she stopped him, catching his hand at the last second. He turned back to her, his gaze falling on their clasped hands before looking back into her eyes. "You don't… have to go. Just sit with me?"
He visibly deflated at the invitation.
"Of course."
A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before he sensed movement out of the corner of his eye. To his left he found her hand extended on the mattress between them, palm up. An invitation he wouldn't pass up for the world. Immediately, he reciprocated the gesture, lacing his fingers through hers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Grateful for any opportunity to bring her comfort. Tucker watched as she let her eyes fall shut and tilted her head back against the headboard, taking a series of even breaths almost as if on count. A precise cadence. He knew then, much to his dismay, that this was routine for her. A song and dance she knew by heart. He held her hand tighter.
"I'm sorry."
Her apology was so soft Tucker almost thought he imagined it. Surely she wasn't apologizing for this. When he turned in her direction, he found silent tears in her eyes, waiting for release.
"Sorry?" He echoed, brows furrowing, "No, Olivia. You don't have anything to be sorry for. Please."
She didn't respond but seemed to lose herself inside her head, vacant eyes settling somewhere in the distance. Tucker watched carefully from beside her, grasping in the dark for the right thing to do, to say. For someone who made a living calling the shots and making tough calls, he had no idea how to proceed. All his badges and authority couldn't help him now as he sat across the bed from his best friend, desperate to help her any way he can and coming up empty handed. Helpless.
"Liv?"
"Our case today," she began suddenly, her small voice breaking up the quiet, "Ah… it was a corrections officer at a women's prison who's being accused of sexually assaulting the inmates."
Tucker didn't say anything, but a gnawing anxiety climbed through his bones as he watched a single tear slide down her cheek. He wasn't sure where she was headed with this, but the tremor in her voice told him two distinct things: He didn't want to know, and he was about to find out.
"Do you remember when we talked about the Clyde Vandyne case a while back?" she kept her head forward and down as she spoke, eyes trained on her lap, "And you apologized for bringing up my PTSD in the interrogation?"
The reminder was a punch to the gut, especially in the wake of witnessing a very PTSD-like nightmare. It was his turn to drop his gaze.
"Yeah."
"And you mentioned how you still didn't know what that was from...?"
His breath hitched in his throat, the fingers of his free hand pressing into his plaid pajama pants to still their trembling. By now Olivia's lip was quivering uncontrollably, and he could tell she was on the verge of breaking. When words failed her, Tucker gave her hand a squeeze of encouragement, even though his stomach was already twisted in a knot in anticipation of whatever she was about to disclose.
"You can tell me," he nudged gently.
And that was it- she broke. Her chin hit her chest as she fell forward with sobs, unleashing the weight that had buried her all day. As much as it killed him, Tucker kept his distance from across the bed, even when every nerve in his body screamed at him to go to her, to wrap her up. All that mattered now was her well being, and it was clear she needed space. So he waited. Patiently, attentively, he stroked the back of her hand and waited for her sobbing to subside, as long as it took. When she finally managed to catch her breath, she brought her chin up and squared her shoulders, a steely resolve falling over her eyes. Like a soldier marching into battle. And with every ounce of bravery she could muster, she told him the truth. About Sealview. About the undercover operation, and how Cragen had warned her, pleaded with her not to go. She told him about the powerlessness she felt when she stripped down and put on that orange jumpsuit, how it felt like shedding her humanity like a reptilian skin. Finally, through tears, she told him about the basement. About his hands on her body, his breath against her ear, and the way his words penetrated an unshakable depth of her soul. She told him about her screams for help, how they fell on deaf ears until she finally believed him - that no one was coming for her - and resigned herself to an unfathomable fate. She told him more than she'd ever told anyone, more than she'd disclosed on paperwork or to her therapist or to Fin, and when she was done, she had no more tears left to shed.
By the time she finished, the gap between them on the mattress had gradually drawn to a close, her exhausted body collapsed across his. Tucker's fingers grazed through her hair in slow, even strides, a repetitive motion that kept her at ease as much as it gave him something to focus on other than the urge to storm Rikers Island right now to find the sorry bastard who hurt her. Between her periodic sniffling, the room was dead quiet and Tucker resented the silence for giving his mind space to run free with the vivid pictures she had painted for him. He hadn't said a word since she began divulging her story, save for the tiny whispers of encouragement when her voice trailed off at the toughest parts. Which, for him, was all the parts. It was obvious it took an incredible amount of courage to vocalize the things she told him, so he felt twice as inadequate as he sat there with her, unable to find any words at all in the face of her suffering. How did he respond to something like this? How did he put his outrage into words? Tell her how ugly and unfair the world was for being cruel to someone so undeserving on so many occasions?
"Fin sees it, I think," she saved him from the silence, and he looked down at her.
"What's that?"
"The way this case is affecting me," she clarified, "He was the one to call me this morning, and I knew something was bad by the sound of his voice. When he told me, I...I just..."
"I can't imagine," he shook his head.
"I shut down," she admitted, "Fin pulled me aside after we interviewed the vic at the hospital and asked if I was okay. We haven't really talked much about, uh… about Sealview since it happened. Even then, not so much. But I can see it in his eyes, especially after cases like this… He can't forget it either."
"I'm glad you have someone at work looking out for you."
Olivia pushed herself into a sitting position, brushing back her tousled hair and settling beside him against the headboard. She drew her knees up to her chest.
"I have a good squad. I'm lucky," she smiled fondly, looking a bit like a proud mother. Then she looked to him, "I'm pretty lucky to have you, too. Takes a village, I guess."
She shot him a playful smirk, and he pulled her into his side with an arm around her shoulder, planting a soft kiss on her temple. His lips lingered there to hold the embrace for a few seconds longer, his throat growing tight with emotion. It was all he could do to hold back the burning of tears as he clenched his jaw.
"I'm so sorry that happened to you," he whispered.
Instead of responding with words that felt less than adequate for the occasion, Olivia cupped his face with her palm, running her fingers along the stubble of his jaw before planting a kiss on his cheek. It served as both a silent thank you and a reminder that she was okay. She was here.
"Have you thought about recusing yourself from the case?" Tucker asked when she pulled away, careful to pose the question so that he's not trying to persuade her one way or another, or make her feel incapable of doing her job.
"Thought about it," she admitted, "Briefly. It was my first instinct, but I already know things are going to go high profile and I can't afford to raise questions with one-p-p on why the commanding officer is standing down. Besides, I never really got... Closure. You know, with Harris. So I feel like I need to do this for myself, too."
"Wait," he pulled back to look at her, eyes scanning over her face in disbelief, "Harris never got put away?"
"Not for what he did to me," she shook her head, the frustration evident in her face, her voice, even after all these years, "Or to all the other inmates. In the end, we got him on the rape that put him on our radar in the first place, something outside the prison. My undercover stint helped put the last piece of the puzzle together, so I couldn't feel like the whole operation was a complete waste, but…"
"But you never got justice."
"No," she said, "No, I didn't."
"Can I be honest with you, Liv?"
"Always," she spoke sincerely, a nod at the simple one-word promise he frequently used with her.
"I know you've…" Tucker seemed to roll the words around in his head, choosing the right ones with care, "endured a lot more than most people have in a lifetime. You've been through hell and back, and those are just the pieces I know."
"I guess I kind of come with a heavy load," she attempted to derail with humor, chuckling darkly to herself, "Lots of baggage."
"Hey, that's not what I'm saying," he stopped her, "At all. I'm just… as you can tell after tonight, I'm not experienced with this. I can talk an armed criminal out of a hostage situation, but when it comes to pulling my girlfriend out of a nightmare, I felt… completely helpless."
"You were fine," she placed her hand on his chest. He blinked down at her through eyes more vulnerable than she had ever seen on him, unconvinced.
"I promise," she emphasized, "Besides, I know it's a lot. I know I'm a lot. It's not fair to expect you to know how to clean up this mess."
"That's where you're wrong," he said, then added with a chuckle, "That's probably the first and last time I'll ever say that."
She broke a genuine smile, rolling her eyes at his mischievous smirk. Tucker allowed the moment of lightness to resonate between them before speaking again.
"When I commit to something, I don't commit halfway," he said, his voice solemn with promise, "I'm all in with you, Olivia. I knew going into this that you had some demons from your past. We all do. But that was one of the many things that drew me to you - your resilience. Your strength. When I say I want you, I mean I want all of you: the cop, the mother… and the survivor."
By the time he was finished her eyes shone with fresh tears, and she was grateful she already had her head buried in his shirt.
"You and your baggage are not going to scare me away. I know exactly what I signed up for, and I'm getting a hell of a deal. I want to be here for you. Every nightmare, every sleepless night..." he told her, "You're worth every single one."
And for the first time in her life, she thought she might actually believe it.
