Title: Love You Forever
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: Olivia's continued adventures in motherhood - as she balances raising her son with her career. This story is set in my AU series. It would take place several years after Undeserved.
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. The timeframe would have it outside of the TV series' current timeline and would likely have Olivia into her early 50s. 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.
It was just a further sign that something was grating at her son. She'd taken him to about his favourite deli – at least in their neighbourhood – and he'd hardly taken a bite out of the giant Rueben that had been put in front of him.
"Sweets, your lunch is getting cold," she tried. She always had to urge him to eat anyways. "At least eat some of the fries or coleslaw, please, if you aren't going to eat the sandwich."
He glanced at her and shrugged.
She shook her head. "None of that, Noah. I'm taking you out for lunch – you're going to at least try to eat some of it."
He sighed and put a fry in his mouth. She watched him slowly chew at it and gathered some of omelet on her own fork. She could really take-or-leave the food at the place. She ate enough greasy-spoons, cop diners and delis over the years. They all really started to taste the same after a while.
"If you finish up half that sandwich and the coleslaw, you can pick a dessert to share," she tried.
He looked up at her. "That's a bribe," he said flatly.
"You've hardly eaten the last three days, Noah," she told him. "If a bribe is what you need – I'm bribing you."
He chewed on another fry. "You never eat the dessert I pick anyways," he mumbled with his mouth full.
"Because you always pick cheesecake," she said and pointed her fork at him. "It's too sweet. And, it just means more for you anyways."
He shrugged.
She rolled her eyes at him. At least he was almost speaking to her. That was a slight improvement compared to the past several days. She worked on a bit more of her meal, eating slowly, because Noah certainly didn't seem to be in any sort of hurry.
"I don't think I want to play baseball this season," he said quietly after a while and after she'd broken the eye contact.
She glanced up at him and sighed. "Well, sweetheart, I talked to your coach this morning and the administration office – and I really think you should at least go out to the next practice and maybe the next game, before you make that decision."
Noah shook his head. "I don't want to play."
She took a deep breath. "I understand where this is coming from, Noah. But I'm going to ask that you take a few more days to think about it – and to calm down about what happened – and then we can talk about it some more."
"I don't need a few more days," he said quietly and examined the table.
She rubbed her eyebrow. "It's your decision, Noah. But dropping out this season could have implications for later seasons, if you decide you want to play again. And, I thought you were planning on trying out for the high school team? Having a year in the tournament league will likely help you a lot there too."
He shrugged.
"We'll talk about it on Sunday night," she said, "after you've calmed down and had some time to think about it all a bit more clearly. After Dad is home."
Noah made a little sound and jammed another fry in his mouth. She watched him some more – but he was back to just examining the heaping plate in front of him and chewing about as slowly as possible.
"What's … mean?" she asked, imitating his sound.
"Maybe I don't want to play baseball in high school or go to HSMSE," Noah said with a definite edge to his voice. "Maybe I just want to go to a normal high school – and just do something normal."
She watched him and shrugged. "OK. Like what?" she asked and looked back to her meal, trying to be as casual about this new bomb of information as possible.
"I don't know. Maybe I want to be a cop too or something."
She gave a little snort of a laugh and offered him a small smile.
"Why's that funny?" he demanded.
She put down her fork and rubbed at her eyebrow, examining the table for a moment pulling together her response before meeting his demanding eyes.
"Because you haven't told me you had any interest in being a police officer when you grew up since you were about four years old, Noah."
"So?" he spat. "Maybe I do now."
She shrugged. "That's fine, sweetheart. If that's what you think you want to do, I'll support you in that. You have a lot of other interests and talents that I think you should consider exploring – but if you think being a cop will make you happy – that's all I want for you."
"What's that even mean?" he said.
She sighed and looked at the ceiling for a moment. "Noah, you're so smart and you're so talented with your drawing and your art and your films and animation. Just … don't sell yourself short … especially, if you're making these sudden and big decisions because of whatever is going on right now."
"Aren't you kind of insulting yourself by saying any of that?" he said and drilled his eyes into her.
She gave him a small smile and shook her head. "I don't think so. I love my job, Noah. It's what I decided I wanted to do – and there are lots of reasons that I am still doing it. But it's never been something I have wanted for you. There are reasons I don't talk about my work at home."
"Because you deal with perverts all day," he spat like he was more disgusted with her then he was the perps.
She rubbed at her eyebrow. "Because I deal with a lot of really heartbreakingly, sad situations and with people who do things that I don't ever want you to have to think about."
"So why would you want to spend your life doing that?"
"Because I like helping people, Noah. The victims deserve help. And, the people who do the things to them – I want them off the street so they are no where near you, or any other children."
"It's a stupid job," he said and looked back at his plate.
She watched the top of his head. "I know you don't mean that, sweetheart," she told him.
"Why do you always have to call me that?" he mumbled at her.
She gave a small snort. "Habit, Noah."
"Well I don't like it," he said.
She sighed. "OK. I'll try harder to stop calling you that. But you've been my sweets since the day you were born, Noah. It's not just a switch I can flick like that. It's who you are to me."
He gave her a dirty look.
She shook her head and looked back at her plate. Some days she still wished she could've kept Noah at about four. He'd been fun at four. She supposed 11 hadn't been a bad age with him either. She wasn't liking 13 and she really doubted she was going to like the next four years as she had to parent him through high school. She really wondered how hard he could push away from her. He seemed to doing his best to make sure his feet were firmly planted against her chest and he was pushing now. And, some days, it just really fucking hurt.
"So where do you think you want to go to high school if you don't want to go to HSMSE anymore?" she asked, still trying to be casual, but also trying to change the topic. "Are you thinking you'd just like to go to West Side?"
He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Will's going to make me go to HSMSE if I get in."
She shook her head. "That is absolutely not true. It's your choice – not Will's, and we will support whatever decision you make, Noah. We both just want you to be happy."
He glanced at her. "I think maybe I want to go to the art school," he said so quietly she wasn't entirely sure he'd even known he said it aloud. "If I get in…"
She smiled at him and put down her fork again, giving him her full attention. "LaGuardia or Art and Design?"
"Art and Design," he said and picked up another fry, not looking at her.
She smiled wider. "That's fantastic, Noah," she told him honestly.
"Will's not going to like it," Noah said between chews on the fry, still keeping his eyes downcast.
"Dad will be fine," she assured him. "We were all really impressed with the programming there, Noah. I think it's perfect for you – and it will give you a solid foundation in your maths and sciences too, for if you decide you want to lean more that way when you go to university."
"If I go to university," he said quietly.
She watched him. "OK. If you go to university. That's a long time from now anyways. We don't need to worry about that yet."
"I probably won't even get in," he said.
"You'll get in," she told him.
"Don't say that Mom," he spat at her and made eye contact briefly. "Like 1,500 kids apply and there's only like 200 spots and that's for all the programs there's even less for the Commercial Design program."
"Sweetheart," she said but he glared at her. "Noah," she corrected herself. "Your portfolio was fantastic. You do your comics and your movies. And your grades are so good. You're so talented. You're going to get in. You need to believe in yourself more – especially if this is the kind of field you think you might be wanting to go into. You need to have self-confidence."
He shrugged, which just caused her to let out a small sigh and shake her head at him again. Noah had never really excelled in self-confidence when he was around other kids. She blamed it partially on the cancer and him starting school in the midst of it all. The kids hadn't understood and he didn't know how to relate to them. And then add in the time he missed, his stunted growth and his introverted personality. He just didn't excel at thinking he was the alpha dog on the block. She tried to instill in him that he was just as good as anyone else – if not better, in some of the areas he was particularly talented in. But as he was hitting his teens he seemed to believe her less and less and only feel like she was patronizing him. It made him angry. She wished it was easier for him. She suspected part of whatever was going on now – or at least the blatant bullying she'd witnessed – was related to his apparent inability to stand-up for himself. Sometimes she felt like he didn't think he was worth it. That hurt her too. She son was more than worth it. He was precious.
"Why do you think I'm so good at drawing?" he asked, though.
She looked at him and shrugged. "I don't know, Noah. Because it's your gift."
"Well I must've gotten it from somewhere," he said.
She smiled a bit to herself and gave a small, silent laugh. "Maybe. Not from me."
"Maybe my Dad," he suggested.
She was still thinking about the concept of him getting into the high school and getting to do the cartooning and comic book art program, getting to learn more about film-making and animation. It could be exactly what her son needed. Maybe he'd meet some like-minded people, finally make some real friends. She was excited by the concept.
She'd been excited by the school when they'd gone to the open house but Noah had said almost nothing about it since his audition day. It made her think something had gone horribly wrong in the audition while he presented his work that he'd taken hours upon hours deciding what to include in his portfolio, or that he'd been extremely unhappy with whatever he'd had to produce during the drawing test or he hadn't known how to answer some of the interview questions. She didn't know what had happened, though. He had offered not explanation about it and soon after it he'd started taking more like he was set on going to HSMSE. So she'd dropped it and focused on what he was focused on and on supporting him in that.
So as she churned over all these new potential possibilities for her son, she supposed she didn't really hear his statement. And she'd just shrugged.
"Maybe. Dad used to help you with your drawing a lot when you were little. You'd sit there giving him all sorts of direction until he got it 'right'. He's pretty good. Not nearly as talented as you, though. He does have his talent with music, though. So I guess there's a bit of an artsy streak in him."
She had been picking at her plate and picking at her food as she gave the response, still lost in thought, and still with a bit of a grin on her face. But when Noah hadn't said anything more, she'd glanced up at him, as she put a bit more of the eggs into her mouth.
"I didn't mean Will," he said. "I meant my real dad."
She looked at him and felt like she nearly had to force herself to swallow her food and not gag on it. She put down her fork and rubbed at her eyebrow. She had no idea what to say. She wasn't prepared for this conversation and now rather than her excitement at her son potentially getting to start chasing his dreams – the first positive thing she'd heard out of him in days, if not more like weeks – she was instead desperately trying to decide how to navigate this minefield he'd just thrown them into.
"Was he good at art?" Noah asked quietly, still looking at her with his brown-eyes. Some times she found it a little disconcerting how much she saw her eyes in him and how when he gave her those looks – it was her eyes looking right back at her.
She sighed and looked at the ceiling for a moment but then shrugged. "I don't really know, Noah."
He gave her a questioning look. "What do you mean you don't know?"
She sighed again. She'd always told herself that she'd been as honest as age-appropriately possible with Noah about his father. But the reality was she really hadn't had to yet. She couldn't even think of the last time Noah had asked anything specific about Kurt. He never really ever had. There'd been a few passing comments when he was littler. He knew Will wasn't his biological father – but Will had always been Daddy and for the most part that had always seemed like enough. Will was all Noah knew, all Noah could remember. She'd thought Noah might have more questions at some point in his teens. But she wasn't really expecting it now. She thought it might be more of an end of high school thing.
"Well, I guess I never saw any indications that he was particularly artistic," she allowed.
Noah examined her. "So he didn't draw?"
She shrugged. "Not that I ever saw."
"Did he like comics?"
She shrugged. "I really don't think comics were his thing, sweets. You got comics from your Dad. Not your father."
She'd picked her words carefully. She'd always tried to be clear with Noah that Will was his Dad. Being a Dad is a decision. Anyone can be a father – that's a one-time act. Stepping up and being a Daddy is much more involved and complicated then that. Will was Noah's Dad and he'd be his only Dad.
"Did he like movies?"
She shrugged. "I suppose most people like movies."
"But did he like filming things?"
She shook her head. "I don't think so. Not that I saw."
"Did he talk about art, at least?"
"Not with me. But he did have some art in his home."
"So he collected art?"
She shook her head. "No, I don't think so."
Noah gave her another look. "It sounds like you don't know anything about him." The tone of his voice was almost accusing.
She sighed. "I guess I don't. Not those kinds of things, Noah."
"How can you not know anything about him when you had a baby with him?" Noah spat out.
She sat back in the booth and looked at him. "I didn't have a baby with him. I had the baby. I had you. He wasn't there, sweetheart. We've talked about this."
"It's stupid that you just slept with someone you didn't even know anything about," he shot back at her.
She shrugged. "Maybe. But we were in a relationship, Noah. Sex tends to happen in relationships. Sex leads to babies. Maybe it was stupid. But I guess if I hadn't been stupid, there'd be no you, would there?"
"So you had sex with someone you didn't know and you didn't use condoms. You're such a hypocrite."
She looked at him hard. "You will watch how you talk to me, Noah. I'm still your mother, no matter how you feel about me on a particular day."
He shook his head at her. "You're always preaching such bullshit and you don't even …"
She pounded her hand on the table. "Watch your language, Noah," she told him. "And, yes, when you start having sex – you should use a condom – ALWAYS. But condoms are not 100 per cent effective, Noah, and you're living proof of that. OK?"
"What does that mean?" he spat out.
"All it means was that you were an unplanned pregnancy, Noah."
"What's that mean?"
She shook her head at him. "That I wasn't trying to get pregnant at the time."
"You were having sex!" he spat again.
She sighed. "OK. I wasn't planning to get pregnant at the time."
"So you're saying I was a mistake?" he sputtered out.
She recoiled and grabbed for his hand across the table. "No, Noah. That's not what I meant." She sighed and he yanked his hand away from her. "Noah … you weren't a mistake. At all. You were a gift. OK? You are a gift to me. And there isn't a day that goes by that I'm not happy that I had you. Even on the days you really, really piss me off – which seem to happen pretty frequently anymore – I am still so grateful to have you as my son. It really hurts me to think that you'd question that. Because there was never a doubt in my mind that I was going to have you. I was so happy and excited when I found out I was pregnant with you. I have never, ever thought of you as a mistake."
"But he did?" he asked quietly.
She sighed. "Sweetheart, maybe we should talk about this at home – not here, in Artie's?"
He shook his head. "He didn't want me? He thought I was a mistake?"
She looked at the table for a moment before meeting his eyes again. They looked so sad.
"Noah, we didn't have a big discussion about it. He never said that, though. He just … wasn't ready to be a dad."
Noah was quiet and looked like he was processing that. She reached for his hand again and he at least let her take it momentarily.
"I know what it's like to grow up without a dad, Noah. I didn't want that for you. And, when I met Will … he's a really great Dad, Noah. He's all the things I wish I could've had in a Daddy. That's really important – being the Dad. It's more important than the biology, I think."
"Did he ever see me?"
She nodded. "He visited you three times. But you were really little, Noah. You wouldn't remember – and he didn't stay long ever."
"He didn't like me?"
She gave a little smile. "Noah, everyone who really knows you loves you. He didn't know you."
"How come he didn't want to be a dad?"
She shrugged. "He thought he had more important things going on in his life. He was angry with me."
"He was angry with you because you had me?"
She nodded. "A little, I think. But that wasn't his choice – it was mine, and I really, really, really wanted you. I wanted to be a mom so bad."
He gave her a funny look. "Why?"
"So I could have a snotty 13-year-old kid mouthing back at me all the time and not telling me what's really wrong," she told him.
He gave her a silly look and made a small sound and looked at the table.
He was quiet a moment, though. "What were the more important things in his life?"
She shrugged. "I don't know, Noah. Family is pretty important. It's the most important thing. He just hadn't learned that yet, I guess."
He considered her. "Did he live here?"
She nodded and rubbed at her eyebrow – really wishing the conversation would stop.
"Do you know if he still does?"
She shrugged. "I think so," she lied. She knew so. Kurt's precious career had continued to rise. Unfortunately she couldn't avoid Kurt just by avoiding the Ledger anymore. He was much more prominently in her face than that. But Noah didn't need to know that.
"What'd he do?"
She sighed and shook her head.
"You don't know that either?" Noah asked and gave her another look.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I'm not telling you what he does."
He gave her another look. "Why not?"
"Because now you're fishing for identifying information – and if that's a conversation we're going to have, it's one that your Dad gets to be included in."
"Why?"
"Because he's your Dad and he loves you – and he'll have thoughts and opinions on all of this too."
"Does Dad know who he is?"
"Yes, sweets, he does. Your Dad knows a lot about me. We don't keep secrets from each other."
"But you keep secrets from me?"
She sighed and shook her head. "It's not a secret, Noah. It's just a discussion that I think Dad should get to be involved in. So we'll have to continue it in a couple days, if that's what you want."