Tucker? Ed-motherfucking-Tucker?

Elliot's heart is pounding with barely contained rage. He wants to throw his glass across the room just for the satisfaction of releasing the building tension in his body and watching it smash into a million tiny little pieces that spread across the floor.

He wants to call Olivia right this instant and demand she explain herself. Explain to him how she could have loved the man that tried, on several occasions, to ruin their careers. The man that practically perp-walked her out of the precinct while she was sick with the flu and didn't want to rest until she was locked up for murder.

How? How was Tucker the "one" that she thought she'd settle down with, the "Ed" that died?

Despite his anger, a rational voice comes through, and he knows that he can't reach out to Olivia right now. Instead, he texts Fin.

Tucker!

You couldn't have warned me?

He's surprised when his phone buzzes five minutes later with Fin's response.

Ha!

She finally told you?

In a goddamn letter

I did warn you

Told you she had a serious relationship

With TUCKER?

You coulda told me!

How the hell did that happen?

I'm not exactly sure

She was single

And then all of a sudden she and Tucker were a thing

Didn't always make sense

I can't fucking believe this

Calm down man

He's dead

Don't care

Elliot's phone rings in his hand as he waits for Fin's next text.

"What!" he answers angrily.

Fin chuckles into the phone, as if he expected this side of Elliot. "You better get over this and fast."

"How? She was with Tucker! You know how that man had it out for me—the whole squad?"

"Yeah, I remember. But when you were gone, well, he came around a bit."

"Whaddya mean?"

"I don't know exactly. But he chilled out over the years, a lot. And then one day they were suddenly a thing. They were good together, I think. He loved them both, Olivia and Noah. They even went to Paris together."

Elliot exhales a soft, "Damn."

"I know it's shocking, man, but I can't be hyping you up to Liv if this is how you're going to act."

"Yeah, I know. It's just—Tucker, you know?" He rubs a hand over his face and around the back of his head.

"I get it. But it's been years now. And she's happy with you. I can see it."

"Yeah?" Elliot questions, his voice rising slightly.

"Yes. I don't know how your bald-ass head can make any woman happy–"

"Fuck you, man," Elliot grumbles.

Fin laughs. "I'm serious, though. You two are good. Don't ruin it over this."

Elliot sighs, resigned to accepting what Fin's saying. "I won't."

"I'm serious. I'll fly to Italy to kick your ass and then make you take me out for pizza."

"You would," Elliot says with a small laugh.

Elliot sits with his anger for the next several days, Olivia's letter resting on his coffee table, taunting him. He spends each day bouncing between his emotions—angry and grateful; jealous and understanding; frustrated and lucky.

He knows that he has no right to be angry. He was living with his wife of thirty-plus years in Italy. Of course, Olivia had relationships and lovers in those ten years. She's beautiful, and any man would be lucky to love her. Beyond that, she's so amazing—smart, strong, stubborn, and so dedicated. She deserves to be loved.

But he can't reconcile his Olivia with Tucker. The more he thinks about it, the more it confuses him and angers him. The man was horrible to them both. How could he have changed so much to be loved by Olivia, to become the man that she was almost ready to settle down with.

He knows that he's going to have to get over it, and fast. But he can't. He can't handle the fact that he could have come back to NYC that night and Olivia could have been married to Tucker, living with him, retired and raising Noah together. The woman he wants to love. The young boy that Elliot adores and wants to help her raise through his teenage years.

He tries to take Fin's words to heart. Olivia is happy with him. He has her attention now and he plans on keeping it. He just has to get this small thorn out of his heart so he can focus on loving her.

Over the next week, Elliot tries several times to start a response, but each time his temper gets the best of him and he ends up ripping his pages and tossing them in the trash.

Between work, Noah's dance practices and school homework, and upcoming parent teacher conferences, Olivia is surprised when she looks at her calendar and realizes that nearly three weeks have passed since she sent her letter. She knows that it takes time for their letters to travel across the ocean, but she had expected to hear back from Elliot by now.

She knows that he's busy with his own case, and she knows that she dropped a pretty big bomb on him in her last letter. She had not talked about Ed with him, not more than that quick mention in the hospital waiting room more than a year ago. He hadn't pushed her to give any more details that day (or even after). But she had assumed, had hoped really, that he would have learned about the relationship from the NYPD grapevine.

Olivia considers reaching out to Elliot, but she doesn't want to rush to conclusions or seem desperate. Though, Elliot had come off slightly desperate during his FaceTime call a few weekends ago. He didn't let on too much, but she could tell that something had been bothering him.

It makes her heart flutter with the thought he had called her, though, when he needed grounding. And he so plainly talked about missing her and kissing her.

God, she misses him now.

Resolved to give him enough space to work through his schedule or his thoughts about her letter, she tells herself that she'll wait until Saturday to see if his response arrives. And if it doesn't, then she'll call him on Sunday.

The rest of the week passes more slowly than the previous two, an annoying phenomenon that happens when you're waiting so desperately for something.

But no letter arrives Saturday.

Early Sunday morning, before Noah wakes up—which won't be for another two hours or more—she fixes herself a cup of coffee and pulls up Elliot's contact. She hopes she's not interrupting anything. It's early afternoon in Rome. Maybe she'll catch him getting a late lunch.

The line rings three times before he answers with a gruff, "Hello."

Olivia's taken aback by his frustrated tone and now feels a little dumb, calling him out of the blue. "Hey El. Uh, how are you?"

"Good."

"Are you busy right now?"

"No," he answers tersely.

She's not going to do this—have a conversation with him if he's annoyed and short with her. She had just wanted to check in with him, like he had done the other week, tell him that she misses him, and maybe get a little insight on how he spends his weekends. But if he's angry, especially at her, she's not going to tolerate it.

"Then what's got you in such a pleasant mood."

He doesn't answer, but she can hear him huff on the line and hears the sound of a cup or a bottle, maybe, hitting a table.

"Something going on at work?" she asks first, hoping that it isn't her letter that has him this upset.

"No, work's okay."

Damn. She presses forward with her next thought. "Are you upset with me?"

"No," he answers on a rough exhale. "Not really."

Olivia can tell that he's not being completely honest. He's telling her what he thinks she wants to hear, not what he actually thinks. This pisses her off. He doesn't actually have any right to be upset with her. Not when he was the one who left without a word. Regardless, she expected this response, a little. She knew Tucker was a sore spot for Elliot and this information would be a tough pill for him to swallow.

But she's more upset with the fact he's not being completely honest with her. They have to be able to talk, really talk, about the tough things if this is going to work.

"You have no right to be angry with me."

"I know," he answers softly. She can hear his tone shift, as if his frustration is turned inward, on himself.

That surprises her, that he so willingly admits that he has no right. Past Elliot, her partner Elliot, would have stubbornly fought tooth and nail against being wrong about this. He would have let his anger and jealousy control his ability to be rational.

"Liv." His voice breaks through her thoughts. "I'm sorry. I know that I have no right. I'm just– I'm working through it."

"Do you want to talk about it now?"

"No."

"Okay." As much as she wants him to talk, to tell her how he's feeling about this, she's satisfied with his acknowledgment and apology. "Do you, uh, do you want to hang up?"

"No. No, I don't." His voice softens as he adds, "I've missed you."

Her heart swells. "I've missed you, too. Honestly, I wasn't sure if it was okay to call you."

"You can always call me. I always want to hear your voice."

"Can you tell me about work?"

He talks for about five minutes, giving her the bullet points of their progress. Their UCs are contacting them again. They have insights on a big transfer happening later this fall, around the holidays. They are hoping to make a big move then.

"So, a couple more months then?"

"Yeah," Elliot answers defeatedly. "I didn't know this case was going to take this long. I'm going to see about coming back for Thanksgiving."

"That would be nice. I bet your family would like to celebrate with you."

"And you?" he asks. "Would you want to celebrate with us?"

Olivia bites her lip. Even if he is angry with her, he is still committed to this and wants to see her when he's back. And Thanksgiving with the Stabler crew, all five of his kids and in-laws and grandkids. It would be hectic, overwhelming even for her and Noah who have generally had such small Thanksgivings. But the thought excites her. To have a big, full-table Thanksgiving with all the sides and dessert and chatter and football. And to have it all with Elliot. That sounds nice.

"Sorry if that was too much. I know you might have your own traditions."

"No. No, it's fine. I think we would love to celebrate Thanksgiving with you and your family."

The following Tuesday afternoon, Olivia meets Amanda at the park. Noah's at a dance practice, but Amanda's girls play on the equipment. Olivia hands over an iced latte and takes a minute to look at Nico, sleeping sweetly in his stroller.

"Alright, spill. I know your man was here last month. I need all the details," Amanda says as soon as Olivia takes a seat on the bench.

Olivia shakes her head at Amanda's excitement. "Elliot was back here for a week, then he spent a week with Eli in Colorado apartment hunting," she answers plainly as she takes a sip from her own drink.

"And how did it go?"

Recalling their easy dinner and game night, Olivia answers, "It was good."

"Good? Let's cut through the BS. I have no idea how long Nico's nap will last and I need to live vicariously through you and your love life."

"There is no love life."

"What? He was just here. Did you at least fool around?"

"Amanda!"

Amanda grins into her drink and shrugs. "Sorry, Liv. It's been a while, I need something."

"Well talk to Carisi or read one of those filthy books I know you are partial to; I don't have anything for you."

"Come on. Something happened. Even a little something."

Olivia lets out a long sigh through her nose. "We kissed."

"There we go!" Amanda claps a hand to her leg. "How was it?"

"God, Amanda, it was so embarrassing," Olivia groans, wiping a hand over her face.

"Oh no, don't tell me he was a bad kisser."

"No, no, that was good. I just freaked out."

"Not you," Amanda says, voice full of sarcasm. "But you got over it, right?"

"Yeah," Olivia nods.

"And then?"

"We kissed again," she answers, her lips tight trying to hide a small grin.

"Start from the top. How many times did you see him? What kinda kissing was it?"

"Amanda," Olivia groans again, not sure how much she wants to reveal.

"Fine, fine. I'll let you keep the sultry details to yourself… for now. How's it going now that he's back in Rome?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Are you still writing letters?"

"Yeah."

"Anything else?"

"We've had a few phone calls."

"Ah, how's the phone sex?"

"Amanda!" Olivia shouts again, elbowing Amanda and giving her an incredulous look.

Amanda just laughs. "I'm kidding. I'm kidding."

"No phone sex."

"Yet–"

"But it's been alright. I've just never done the long-distance thing," Olivia admits. As hard as it is for her to talk about herself, and Elliot with anyone, she feels like Amanda can offer good advice. Or at least listen without judgment. "And Elliot, he's grown a lot, but he's still… I don't know… temperamental, maybe, emotional?"

"Is he upset about something?"

"Yeah. I told him about Ed."

"He didn't take that well, huh?"

"No. But it's not surprising. He and Ed, well the whole squad and Ed—Tucker then—were not on good terms. He was, well, honestly… Ed was a real ass back then," Olivia says laughing, recalling how her and Ed had to really come to terms with their tense past.

"He wasn't exactly easy to work with when I knew him," Amanda notes. She asks, "Is this something big enough to cause a real problem?"

"I don't think so," Olivia shakes her head. And it's an honest answer. If Elliot really means what he says in his letter—if he really loves her—then this shouldn't be more than a small bump in the road. "We talked the other day. He said he was working through it, but he did apologize and admit he doesn't have a right to be upset."

Amanda nods. "That's something."

"I guess so."

"Maybe next time he's all temperamental you can distract him with phone sex."

Olivia laughs. "You are ridiculous."

"Nah." Amanda bumps her shoulders against Olivia's and takes another sip of her drink. "I just need a little girl-talk, and I think you do too."

Olivia flips off the lamp on her nightstand, casting her room into darkness, and settles into her bed. She's hopeful, for once, that she can get a solid 6 hours of sleep. Noah had had a long day with friends and passed out by 10:00 p.m., which is early for him. She had used the quiet to reset her apartment and read a couple of chapters of a book before finally thinking she could get to sleep before midnight.

How wrong she was.

Just as she closes her eyes, she can see the room light up and hear her phone vibrate against its charger. She groans in frustration and then inhales deeply through her nose, readying herself to give up her plans of uninterrupted sleep for a late-night case.

Huffing, Olivia turns onto her side and lifts her head to reach for her phone. Her heart flutters when she sees Elliot's face flashing on her screen before the screen goes black and the buzzing stops.

Quickly she flips the lamp back on and sits up against her headboard, swiping her hair back from her face she takes a deep breath and clicks on Elliot's name in her missed calls log.

"Hello." His voice is gruff when he answers, as if he just woke from a deep sleep. It's then when she realizes that it's close to 5:30 in the morning there.

"Hey, uh, you just called?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. I was hoping to catch you before you went to bed."

"You got me."

"Hmmm."

She can tell he's holding something back, but it's late and she's tired. She's not going to play these games with him. "Did you want to talk about something?"

"Yeah. Uh, I just, uh… I'm sorry for the other day."

She doesn't expect that. Elliot has been a constant surprise in all of this. She's had so many expectations based on their time together all those years ago, not allowing for the reality that he's grown in their time apart. That he can be more patient and introspective, or that he's willing to actually apologize. "El–"

"No. Don't. I overreacted. I know I did. I don't have any right to be upset over what you did during those ten years I was gone."

"No, you don't," Olivia agrees softly.

"Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that and that my letter is in the mail."

"Okay." A beat passes in silence. "Is that all?"

"It was. But, uh, I don't want to hang up."

Olivia grins. Even with his growth, Elliot's not much better at this than she is. It's hard to start up these conversations after being so vulnerable on paper and after having their little tiff earlier in the week. But even though she's tired, now that she has him talking, she doesn't want to let him go, either.

Elliot continues, his voice still gravelly and sleepy though much less anxious. "I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving."

"I am, too. It'll be good to spend time with you and your family again."

"I'm not thinking about food, Liv."

Oh. Olivia bites her bottom lip, grinning.

"I miss you. And, uh, I want to kiss you again."

She can tell that Elliot's testing the waters, as if he's not sure if she's comfortable with talking about this, but she's going to let him try a bit.

When she doesn't say anything, he continues, "We never did talk about my visit… and, uh, us."

"No, I suppose we didn't."

"I think about it all the time. The way you tasted, so sweet. And the way you felt under me, and on me. I didn't want to stop that night on your couch."

And try he does.

"Which night?" she asks, breathlessly.

"Both. But really that last night. God," he exhales roughly. His voice drops deeper. "You felt so good on my lap. I could feel all of you, so soft and smooth. You smelled so good."

"El…"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Don't," she starts to fight, but it sounds nice, to be called baby by Elliot. She doesn't think that she wants it all the time, but on occasion—right now…

"Too much?"

"No." It's breathy, her answer.

"What about you? Do you think about it?"

"Yes," she admits quietly.

"What do you think about?"

Olivia looks up at her ceiling. She's never been shy before, not about asking for what she wants. She's never shied away from a little dirty talk. This feels so different, though, to be doing this with Elliot. But she wants him, and she wants him to keep talking.

"I think about the way you felt, so strong and solid… large." She pauses a moment to catch her breath, her heart rate increasing. "Your lips and tongue on mine and on my neck and chest. It makes me… God," she trails off.

"Don't stop, Liv. Tell me."

She pauses, biting her lip again, she can sense the change in his tone—it's almost dangerous how husky it is. "It makes me wonder how good you would feel elsewhere."

"I'd feel so good. You taste so damn delicious. I would want to know. Fuck, I need to know how you taste everywhere."

She's practically panting now. She knows it, but she can't stop. Her heart is pounding in her chest and her body is tight, alight with arousal and dying for his touch.

"Am I gonna get you alone when I'm back for Thanksgiving?"

God yes. "Yes."

"Are you going to wear a black dress like you promised in your letter?"

"I can."

"You better," he growls. "I can picture you now. Gorgeous, Liv. You are always so gorgeous, but I cannot wait to see you all dressed up, hair and makeup, and a little black dress just for me."

"Just for you, El."

"God."

She can hear his breath ragged over the line. She wonders what he's doing, what he's wearing. "Where are we going on this date?"

"Wherever you want, so long as we end up in bed after."

"Oh."

"Too much?" he asks again.

"No."

"You want to be in my bed, Liv?"

"Yes," she answers without thought. But she does, she wants to be with him again, feel his body over hers, his mouth and tongue on her skin. There is only so much a woman can relive a couple of kisses. She has needs, and those needs include him.

"And what are we doing there?"

"El," she whines. Anymore, and she's not going to be able to stop. But she doesn't want to do this, not yet anyway. She wants more of him here, with her, not over the phone.

"Fuck, Liv."

"I know. We, uh… we should stop."

He exhales hard. "Yeah… yeah. Okay."

"I'm sorry, I – just…"

"I get it, Liv. Don't be sorry."

Silence falls between them again, only their heavy breathing crossing the lines.

He's the first to break it. "I guess, uh… I should let you get to bed."

She looks back at her clock. It's after midnight now. "Yeah, it's getting late."

"I'll call you again. Or, uh, you can call me."

"Okay."

"Night, Liv. Sweet dreams."

"Bye, El."

Another week passes. He doesn't call her. Olivia doesn't blame him. They were playing a dangerous game Saturday night. It's not that she doesn't want him like that. She does. She would just like to experience those things in person before they resort to phone sex. Though, if her hormones have anything to say about it, another late-night call when he sounds like he did, all gruff and sexy, and she might not have a choice but to give into her baser instincts.

His letter arrives that Monday as September turns to October.

September 22, 2023

Olivia,

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write you back. As you figured out when we spoke on the phone the other day, I was a bit shocked and jealous. I needed some time to work through your letter.

I know that I have absolutely no right to be jealous or angry. And honestly, a large part of me is happy that you had someone to love and be loved by, and I'm sorry that you suffered such a great loss. But part of me hates that anyone else has ever had the pleasure to hold you and kiss you and love you. Especially someone who I loathed so much.

But I trust you. I trust your instincts. I trust that you would only love a man who deserved it. And in all those years that I was gone, I hope that Tucker was a man who truly deserved you and loved you how you deserved to be loved.

I'm working on being a man who deserves your love. You, Olivia, deserve the world and I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you get it. Including working on not being such a jealous prick.

I also need to apologize (again and again) for my behavior when I returned to New York. You're right. I did push you away. I was so lost in my grief and bull-headed desire to seek revenge that I was in no place to accept your friendship and care. I know that I took advantage of your kindness and I hurt you then. I'm sorry.

We're quite a pair, with our lifetime of baggage and bad habits to work through. We'll figure this out, though. I'll go at your pace here and I'll reassure you every day that I'm here, that we are real, and that I'm in this. We are worth it—you are worth it.

I miss you. I know I told you on the phone, but I miss you every day. I wouldn't have agreed to take this case if I had known that it would keep me away this long. I'm so ready to be back with you. I'm excited for us to start, really start on our future. I feel so much hope and joy when I think about spending more time with you and Noah. And having you around my family more.

Kathleen was so excited when I asked for her help in designing your necklace. She wouldn't shut up about you and us. It was sweet, really. I'm glad you like the compass and that you wear it. It is meant to be worn. I designed it to be small and easy to wear, but yet significant enough to hold my love for you.

I don't think I'll be back for Noah's fall recital unless it's right around Thanksgiving. Like I told you, I'm hoping to be home then. I've put in for a week at Thanksgiving and another at Christmas. I'm not sure I'll get both holidays or that I'll be able to afford tickets for both holidays. They double in price (at least) around Christmas. We may have to celebrate Christmas late.

Maybe you can record Noah's performance and I can FaceTime him afterwards? If he would like that.

Love,

Elliot