I won't be writing impossibly long chapters anymore - it causes too much pressure on myself and it causes long delays between chapters if I am struggling to push out 14k words each time I want to update... so this will be for as long as I think the chapter needs to be, not set to a benchmark.

What do you think of this chapter? I know some noah haters may think hes being a little shit but this is going to be way more complex than it seems head on, so I hope youll enjoy :)


"Hey, honey…" Olivia greeted her son as he made his way from the front door, up the short hall, pausing to put his school bag inside of his bedroom. He wondered why she was in such casual clothes - she wore a large, grey sweatshirt and a pair of active nights as though she'd been for a run and not actually at work all day.

"Hey," he replied, "I thought you might still be at work," he replied, helping himself to the refrigerator behind her. He grabbed a soda and cracked the can, chugging down a few mouthfuls.

"No, I finished at 4. Did you stay back after school or hang out with a friend?," she wondered casually, but Noah knew the tone, what she was trying to ask was why he was so late.

"Nope," he replied, giving her nothing. He drew in a deep breath, trying his best not to feel frustrated with her for simply being home, for looking like she didnt plan on leaving again even if her phone, the device he hated the most, began to ring. "I just went for a walk," he added.

Olivia wasn't sure if she believed him - since the phone call she'd received a few weeks earlier, she wasn't sure if she believed anything that came out of his mouth. "What do you want for dinner," she asked, "I thought maybe we could take advantage of my night off and either go out or order in and hang out…"

The last thing he wanted was to sit at a table awkwardly with his Mom who would be grilling him about every aspect of his life. He shrugged, "I've got a bit of homework tonight, maybe order in."

She knew that would be his answer but it didn't stop her from trying - it had been Nick's suggestion; to try harder, to give her son space to breathe but not so much that he felt like she didn't care. It was a tightrope and each passing day it felt like it was getting much harder to balance.

"Okay," she replied, "why don't you go grab my phone and find something you want to eat and let me know," she suggested, putting the lid on her lunch container for work the next day. "Do you want me to make you a sandwich or something for lunch tomorrow?"

He shook his head as he made his way to the coffee table to pick up her phone. He ignored the wallpaper of she and him cuddling closely when he was about 12. If anything, the photo annoyed him. "No thanks," he replied quietly, clearing his throat that had become thick with emotion upon seeing the image. He felt a little regretful over it, a sense of longing, of missing his Mom.

He knew her passcode. He unlocked her phone; messages with Nick that he was about to click out of until he saw his name. She and Nick no longer worked together, but they were still close friends and he liked him a lot too. He had fun memories of hanging out with Nick and his mother and his daughter at the park and for sleepovers when he was little and Olivia was in a bind.

I just don't know what to do to make my kid see how much I love himI'm at the end of my rope, I just didn't expect it'd be this hard. Did I do something wrong?

Noah swallowed a lump at the back of his throat. He scrolled to see Nick's response.

He's angry, Olivia, he's going through puberty, you may have been on guard for Elliot to break your heart, but Noah certainly wasn't and the man closest to being a father-figure for some of those formative years just … left and abandoned him and trust me, I know alllll about those kinds of feelings.

Tears prickled at the surface of the teen's blue eyes. Elliot fucking Stabler. He had never hated anyone as much as he hated that man. He hated him for all the nights that his mother had cried for him. He hated him because of how apprehensive he was to share his mother with him until Elliot had worked hard to win his trust and then Olivia's. He hated him because of the way he treated his mother when all she wanted was to be loved by him. And most of all, he hated him because of the promise he broke and the way, when things became too difficult, he moved out without telling either of them while he was at school and she was at work and left a two lined note saying that he was taking a job back in Puglia and that he would make contact when he could.

I know and I wish so hard there was something I could do. I can feel the resentment toward me. I thought it would pass but it's just getting worse and I miss my kid. I miss him talking to me. I would ask you to come and try to talk to him for me but I'm almost certain he'll never trust another male figure in his life again and I don't blame him. I don't think I'll ever trust a man again either…

"Find something?" Olivia prompted him, wiping down the counter as she finished up in the kitchen.

"Think so, just looking…" he fibbed.

Wow, ouch. I didn't leave you, even when I left SVU and then the Police, I never left I promised that and I'm still here and Daniella knows that I'm your ride or die, Liv, so whatever I can do to help, I'll try. If you want me to come and talk to Noah, I will. If you want me to go to Puglia and bring this joker's ass back to give closure to your son, I will… whatever you need. I've always got you. You got a great kid, he might just be going through it, he is at that age, you know.

Olivia had sent back a bunch of hearts.

Blinded by his tears and worried about breaking down in front of his Mom, he flicked out of the text app and straight to Uber eats. He took a deep breath, trying to centre himself. "Can we please get Italian? Do you feel like that?" He asked, glancing briefly over his shoulder as Olivia was now making something else at the counter.

"Sure honey, add what you want to the app and then bring it over here and I'll add what I want and we'll put in the order."

He input the blue cheese gnocchi and the garlic bread and made his way back to the kitchen and set the phone down. "Mom?"

"Hmm?" She glanced up at him from the fruit that she was slicing up.

"Mom," his voice became a little strained as he blinked back tears. "I'm sorry," he apologised.

Olivia put the knife down and wiped her hands on the dishtowel and gave her son her full attention. "For what, babe?"

He knew he could do nothing about the tears as they spilled from the corners of his eyes. Immediately he felt his mother engulf him and it was all he'd wanted from her; some comfort. "For disappointing you with school."

She had been called a few weeks back after Noah failed to turn up to classes, spending the day in the New York City Library reading instead. Angered by Olivia's fury, he never told her where he'd been, preferring her to believe he was out trying to get made by a gang or something else just as stupid to cement the feeling of resentment toward her.

It had been satisfying at the time but after reading her interchange between Nick, he felt a consuming sense of remorse and childishness.

He slipped his arms around her too, enjoying the warmth of her embrace and that Mom scent that everyone's own mother uniquely had, it all brought him comfort and reprieve from the darkness that seemed to constantly filling him. "I love you. I don't want to do this to you."

"Oh, honey…" she drew away, her own eyes thick with a film of water. She pushed his curls from his face. "I love you so much. It doesn't matter what mistakes you make, I will always be on your side…. We might need to talk about it, but I will always be in your corner. I just want you to tell me what's going on?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly, "I don't know what's going on with me, I just don't feel happy."

"I'm sorry you don't feel happy," Liv replied with sincerity. "I want to help, sweetheart, please…"

"I don't know how," he sobbed, "Mom, I don't know what's wrong with me."

It absolutely broke her heart to see her son in pieces - to know that he had things trapped inside so deep that he no longer knew how to articulate. It felt like all of her fault. As a mother, she should have recognised his unhappiness, she should have been able to fix it or prevent it altogether.

She held on to her son tightly. "I love you. I hope you know that, Noah, whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm always here for you. Even if you think I mightn't handle it well, I'll never stop loving you and I'll do my best to support you," she was crying too, her voice breaking. "You're all I have, you're my baby no matter how grown up you become."

"I'm sorry," he apologised, reaching up wiping his face. "I didn't mean to make you upset…"

"It's okay sweetheart, I've always been a cry baby, you know that…" Olivia ran her hands over his curls. He had gotten taller than her in just a blink of an eye and now she had to look slightly higher to meet his eyes. She kissed his temple.

He hugged her again, embracing her felt good— for as old as he was, or as mad as he was, he could never deny how much better he felt when she showed him affection. He felt like he needed to take what he could get, it was rare that he didn't feel like he was competing for her attention.

And she was right, she was a cry baby, but he wouldn't have had her any other way.

"Honey, I want you to go have a shower and get in to something that you're comfortable with and let me organise the rest."

He nodded slow, looking in to her eyes. She kissed his cheek again. "I love you," she murmured.

"I love you too."

He let go of her and wiped his eyes. As he headed back down the hall he heard her phone ring and that sense of resentment sat in the pit of his stomach. He stood by his door and listened.

"Can't do it, Fin," she told his Uncle Fin bluntly. There was some silence, "I can't do it, I home with my kid tonight and he needs me, call Amanda or get some help from Brooklyn, you know the drill." There was more silence and he heard his mother sigh. There it was, he thought, expecting to get out of the shower to a broken record apology.

With a deep sense of hurt, feeling like exposing himself finally to his mother was met with nothing but lipservice and the anger began to burn all over again.

/

Noah appeared back in the family room surprised to find his Mom still casually dressed, two plates on the countertop. "Didn't work call?," he asked breezily.

"Yeah, Uncle Fin— you know how he can be, likes to pick and choose his own jobs," she gave a hint of a smile.

"Are you going?," he asked, looking for a reason for his sudden irritation and regretfulness of their conversation when he got in.

"No, you need me. I'm not leaving you alone. I want us to talk," she replied glancing at him, sensing his sudden walls returning. She wanted to kick herself for suggesting he take a shower and relax rather than sitting down to talk it out immediately.

"I don't think I have anything else to say," he replied.

"Well, my love, you might not, but I do and I've ordered our dinner and if nothing else, we should touch base and try."

He wanted to tell her that they were long past that. He didn't though, he said nothing. "What's the point?," he heard the thought leave his mouth out loud, suspending in the air and for a moment he felt bad when he saw her open mouthed surprise.

It seemed like any problems that he was going through was new to her and it made him angry.

"The point is that I'm not a minder reader and I love you and it hurts me when you're not happy." She stared him through until he had to look away first. He felt ashamed and weak that he had blurted out his feelings after reading his Mom's text.

"Are we eating at the table or on the couch?," he asked, knowing the drill. It was expected that he would set the table if they were pretending to be a happy family and on the couch if both of them couldn't be bothered with the charade.

"I think we should sit at the table…" Olivia told him gently.

She could sense the change in her son's mood since his shower and felt deflated. She'd seen a way in - a tiny threshold that she needed to get past for her son to open up to her and start to repair whatever damage was dwelling between them.

It wasn't that she didn't care, she was just fresh out of ideas to make her son do anything. So many people had given her the advice to give him space — that kids broke away from their parents and teenage boys, especially, went through phases where they remained emotionally unavailable — probably until their first love, someone that would pull them out of it.

She wanted to yell out that her Noah wasn't like that, their relationship was different, that he would never just pull away, their bond had been so special and so close. Perhaps though, that was what all mothers went through with their sons. Maybe she'd heard other parents speak the same way— but his admission had been enough to give her hope that maybe their bond hadn't been imagined, but rather Noah was going through something that he was unsure of how to navigate.

Maybe she was guilty, maybe she was guilty of not being present enough, of thinking her son enjoyed being responsible for his own chores - giving him freedom to make the right choices like she knew he would — but now suddenly there were phone calls from school, afternoons where he was arriving late and shrink appointments that had been blatantly missed.

"Mom, you can forget what I said before, I'm fine. I just had a bad day."

Olivia took a deep breath as she helped him, reaching up for the drinking glasses above her head. She waited a carefully measured amount of time before responding. "Noah, I can't forget what you just said because I don't actually believe you're fine," she replied gently, not wanting him to get angry with her. "I honestly just want us to talk, I miss you talking to me."

"I don't have anything to say," he replied in monotone. He paused, "and neither do you."

She closed her eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of her nose to try not to overreact. He hated it when she overreacted.

The intercom went off and Noah opted to go downstairs to bring their food up. When he was 12 he had mistakenly let someone up without asking questions and it turned out to be a criminal. He thought quickly to run and hide under the bed with Olivia's cell, calling Uncle Nick for help. Olivia fought off the assailant before help had arrived, but he learned a valuable lesson that day and the nightmares and obsession of losing his Mom lingered for a long time.

They never let anyone up unless they knew them or unless Olivia was expecting them and the doorman knew their rule.

/

Noah returned with the food and couldn't contain his hunger as he scrounged through the bag until he pulled out his gnocchi with the blue cheese sauce and the large garlic bread. He knew what his Mom would have, she had the same thing every time — do did he, they were creatures of habit.

She always had the carbonara.

"Do you want soda?" Noah asked as he placed both containers on a placemat on the dining table.

"Sure, why not?" Olivia replied with a shrug. Noah took out two cans of coca-cola and put some ice in his mother's knowing she didn't like warm drinks unless it was a giant coffee.

He set the drink open can and empty glass with ice beside her as she grabbed some utensils and placed them down on the table. "Thanks sweetie," she replied, taking a seat. Noah took a seat too and they both silently served out their food in to their own reflective plates.

"How was school today?," she asked him.

"Can we not?," he replied, pulling his phone from his pajama pants pocket. "I don't want to talk about school." He didn't look at her, he simply opened his social media page.

Surprising him, was Olivia's hand sliding across the table and plucking his cell phone out of his hands. "Don't be rude to me, Noah, I'm trying okay?" She got up and put his phone on the counter beside hers, turning the silent switch on.

She heard him mutter something. "What was that?," she asked, sitting back down, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Nothing," he replied, turning to his food and filling his mouth up before he was tempted to say something that he knew would quickly turn their cosy family dinner in to tears and yelling.

Olivia took a mouthful too. Once she swallowed, she tried again. "Okay, so school is off-limits, what do you want to talk about?," she asked.

Noah shrugged. "I'm tired, I just want to eat and go to bed, honestly."

She sat back and appraised her barely-turned-fifteen son. In some ways he still looked like the tiny little boy who couldn't get enough of her when he was a child. Now he was tall, as if he had shot up overnight. He was still thin and his hair never really seemed to change and his eyes had a little more to them, but were still wide, full of feeling and hard to resist as a mother.

She sighed, "I don't know what to do here, Noah. I don't want to let this go, but I want to respect you and give you space if that's what you need — but I can't handle knowing my boy is unhappy and won't let me help."

Noah stared at his pasta and said nothing. He was afraid to, he was afraid to tell her the reason; the last thing he wanted was to hurt her feelings.

"Talk to me," she commanded, "please…"

He could tell his mother was close to tears. "I'm unhappy," he murmured. "I don't know why and I can't figure out for how long and I feel like shit all of the time and I don't want to see that dick of a shrink, I don't like him, I don't want to talk to him."

"Okay," she replied as a tear escaped from her eye. She reached up and wiped it away. "You don't have to see the shrink. Are you still hurting over Elliot?"

Noah shrugged. "Maybe. But I don't want to see him or hear from him— I don't know I just feel like everyone stopped caring about me when he left and it's fine, I don't want anyone to care about me out of pity."

"Do you think I don't care about you?," she asked, swallowing what felt like a lump in her throat.

He shrugged again, "you're always at work… you used to always cancel plans with me for work, I saw Lucy more than I saw you and since Elliot left I felt like you were mad at me."

"Wait," her voice broke, "why would I ever be mad at you?," she wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands the tears ran down her face at the cold hard truth of his admission.

Noah wiped his own eyes, "because I was the reason Elliot left you…"

"Noah, you were not," she said quickly, "you were not the reason, you were not even nearly the reason — what even made you think that?"

He shrugged again.

"The reason he left wasn't because of anything you, did my sweetheart," she told him with sincere meaning, "he left because that is that man's MO. That's what he does, he leaves and I should have known better than to let him in and let him be a part of our lives— it's my fault, not yours, I should have protected your heart."

"Mom, stop… I don't want to talk about it. It doesn't matter, it's over now," he couldn't handle making her cry, for salting her wounds. He knew Elliot hurt her. He remembered listening to her cry over him after he went to bed every night when she thought he was asleep. He remembered how her drinking increased from a glass of wine occasionally to a few glasses a night, finding her in the morning wrapped up in an old sweatshirt that belonged to the man that he had all but started calling his Dad.

It wasn't just Elliot that left, it was the notion of having extended family — there were Elliot's five children that seemed to have all the time in the world for him and even Kathy, their mother, she was kind to him too, she didn't have an issue with him or Olivia, she and Elliot had split rather amicably and had a few years to get used to being friends.

All of those relationships disappeared along with Elliot and every sense of belonging went with it.

"Maybe we didn't talk about it enough…" Olivia sniffed. "I feel like I've let you down," she murmured.

"Stop it," he begged, "this is why I don't tell you anything, you find a way to make it about you and your feelings and then I feel guilty so I just want to forget I ever brought it up."

Olivia was surprised by his accusation but maybe there was some merit to it. "I'm sorry, you're right, this isn't about me, this is about you. I just want you to be happy Noah, I want it more than you could ever understand, I just don't know how to get to that if you're not helping me."

"Because I don't know!," he snapped, "If I knew how to be happy do you think we'd be talking about it?," he shook his head, frustrated. "I don't want to see the therapist. I'll see someone else maybe, but not him, he's a jerk."

"Okay," Olivia whispered.

Noah pushed his food around and ate what he could. His mother was silent and he knew she had lost her appetite. He felt bad for it. She took small bites from her pasta. "Is it work? Is the fact that I work so much making you unhappy?," she dared to ask.

He scoffed, "You being a workaholic has always made me unhappy," he muttered, "but I really don't want to get in to that tonight— it is what it is, you help other people and you're really good at helping other people."

"But you don't trust my record with helping you," she finished the accusation for him.

"There is no track record," he snapped, frustrated with her, frustrated with himself and the situation. He put his fork down. "Can I go to my room? I'm not hungry."

"… Sure," she replied despite desperately wanting to say no. She had to pick her battles and this wasn't one she wanted to deal with without the correct skills.

She watched her son get up and swipe his phone from the counter where she had put it. "Want me to clean up?," he asked.

"No, I'll do it," she replied.

"K… goodnight Mom."

She watched him skulk down the hallway from the dining table. "Noah?," she called.

He looked up as he was opening his bedroom door. "Noah, I love you so much, you're the most important thing in my life, please don't ever question that."

He simply nodded as if he'd heard it all before and closed the door behind him.

Once it was closed, she cursed out loud.

That was not the way she had envisioned her night going. And now new wounds had been opened and the old ones lay salted and painfully staining her skin once again.

She spent some time cleaning up the kitchen. She decided to get an early night too, perhaps she would give Nick a call. His own son had only just started senior high and Nick had been through it with him and at least his advice was real and not wrapped in good intentions and shrink talk.

She put the food away and turned off the lights. She passed Noah's bedroom and knocked on the door. He called out that she was allowed in. He was in bed, watching something on his phone the way that most kids his age did. She let herself in to the slightly stinky room. "I'm going to bed, do you need anything?," she asked drawing closer.

He shook his head. "Are you working tomorrow?"

"No, I'm off. We can do something if you want," she replied.

"I'll save myself the disappointment of laying out any rigid plans," he shot back and she knew it was attitude about being called in the last time they'd agreed to go for a drive to New Jersey and enjoy a day at the beach.

"Noah, I get you're angry with everything right now, you have the right to be, but you don't have the right to be rude to me. I'm off. I told them not to call me and if anything pops up, they're to utilise Brooklyn's CO… we can do something, whatever you like, if you think it might make you feel a bit better, if only for a day."

"Okay," Noah replied. She leaned over and kissed his forehead.

"Love you."

"Love you too," he murmured as she left him to it. She dressed down to her pajama pants and camisole and texted Nick, asking if it was okay to call.

Once she got comfortable, she hit call on his number and waited for him to answer.

"Hey baby, what you wearing?," he asked with a little laugh.

Olivia laughed too, "Don't be a creep, it's not becoming…" It was just the right amount of comic relief she needed for a little bit of reprieve from the heaviness that seemed to weigh her down.

"It felt creepy even saying it," he joked, "but your text did read as a booty call," he pointed out.

"This is definitely not a booty call," she replied flatly, "more like a cry for help…" her voice trailed as she began to tell him about her night, happy to have a friend who would simply listen.