Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Serena never actually says the words. Just makes a fleeting, matter-of-fact comment. Like it’s an afterthought. Like it’s something Olivia had already known and not a bombshell piece of information.

We’ll need to do some rearranging in your room to make space for the crib.

It takes Olivia a moment to process what she’s just heard. But suddenly, the reason for Serena’s latest attempt at sobriety becomes clear.

There are a thousand questions racing through her mind, but she can tell from the way her mother doesn’t even look up from the newspaper that this is not something open to further discussion. And she knows better than to push a closed topic.

So Olivia just gives her a simple okay in reply, which seems like the indifferent response her mother had been hoping for.

In the months that follow, the lack of explicit discussion continues. In fact, Serena barely says anything about it all, just carries on as usual, like she isn’t growing an entirely new person.

It doesn’t escape Olivia’s notice that the sharp decrease of vodka bottles hidden throughout their shared apartment holds steady. In those months before the baby is born, her mother actually manages to stay sober for the longest period that Olivia can recall. But she knows from experience it won’t last.

Because it never lasts.

At first, Olivia is content to follow her mother’s lead on the matter—banishing all thoughts about what’s to come. But that becomes harder and harder as she watches her mother’s belly grow and the reality sinks in that the course of both their lives is about to change forever.

She figures out early on that the circumstances of this child’s conception are vastly different than her own, although this child’s father seems to also be a non-factor—just a nameless one-night stand and nothing more. She’s managed to glean from the few comments her mother has made that the baby is due in late January, just days before Olivia’s sixteenth birthday. She tries desperately to ignore the fact that her mother’s drunken decision to sleep with a nameless man might be connected to how triggered Serena typically gets in late spring—the time of year that Olivia had also been conceived. She hopes that her mother won’t hold that fact against this child—that Serena will in no way view this baby as an extension of Olivia and the worst night of her life.

That Serena will be able to love this child unconditionally.

But the first time Olivia holds her sister, it seems unimaginable that anyone could not love her unconditionally. Because this baby might just be the most beautiful thing that has ever been. She is small and pink and utterly perfect.

“What should we call her?” Serena asks with an unusual sincerity in her voice.

Her mother had said we—like she’s the second parent in this equation. At first, Olivia feels a swell of pride that Serena thinks highly enough of her opinion to even ask the question, but that’s quickly superseded by the realization that having equal weight in this decision likely won’t be the last time she fills the role of co-parent.

Olivia thinks first of Jane—Elizabeth Bennett’s kind, beloved, and, most importantly, innocent sister from Pride and Prejudice.

“Too plain,” her mother dismisses. “Perhaps for a middle name. No, for a first name, she should have something stronger.”

For once, she sees her mother’s point. Having Serena Benson for a mother will certainly require a fair amount of strength.

She continues to wrack her brain, running through all the names she can think of from her mother’s favorite novels and plays. Looking for something that feels special but will also appease Serena. She lands on King John and Eleanor of Aquitaine—a powerful queen with undeniable strength and bravery. It seems to fit the bill quite well.

“Alright,” Serena nods when Olivia voices the suggestion. “We’ll call her Eleanor—Eleanor Jane.”

She says the name in a gentle voice. But Olivia can’t help but imagine her mother shouting it in a fit of rage or slurring it after a bottle or two of vodka. She resolves in that moment to come up with her own special name for her sister. Something softer, that she can say the way others might use a term of endearment. A name that will never be said with hate or anger—that will only ever be said with love.

Nora, she thinks.

Little Nora.

In their first days as a family of three, Serena goes through the motions of mothering her youngest daughter but seems unable to do so with any real interest or enthusiasm. By the end of the first month, it’s clear to Olivia that the responsibility of making sure Nora feels truly cared for and loved will fall squarely on her shoulders. It’s a responsibility she doesn’t take lightly, and it’s a mantle she’s happy to take up. Because when this little baby snuggles into her chest, Olivia feels a kind of love that leaves her feeling whole and connected and happy in a way she never believed possible.

She also knows with complete certainty that she will do anything and everything to protect this sweet girl. Even from their own mother.

Chapter Text

As Olivia expected, it doesn’t take long for Serena to lose her sobriety, and, when it happens, the meager caregiving the woman had been managing to dole out to her infant daughter up to that point quickly dissipates.

At the start of June, her mother decides that the babysitter they’d secured during the second half of the spring semester is simply not a necessary expense for the summer months, since both she and Olivia will be on break. She says they’ll just find another option when school resumes for them in August.

This decision leaves Olivia reluctant to enroll in summer classes as she had originally planned, since leaving Serena alone with Nora makes her more than a little nervous. But this fall will mark the beginning of her senior year of high school, and she can’t deny how helpful it would be to eliminate a few more of her remaining required classes so she can both arrive late and leave early in her final year. So she pushes her hesitation away and signs up for three electives she’d been avoiding during the previous three years of school.

While she’s able to snag the classes she’d wanted, her hesitance at leaving Nora returns full force when the timing of those classes is most certainly not what she’d been wanting. She’s ended up with all three classes crammed into Mondays and Wednesdays, instead of the shorter hours spread across the full week she’d been hoping for. It will mean leaving Nora alone with Serena all day, instead of for only an hour or two. But the need for a lighter load during the school year wins out, and she convinces herself that Serena can manage alone for a measly two days out of seven.

That hope is dashed after only two weeks.

As she heads home after her last Wednesday class, Olivia wants nothing more than to shower and collapse on her bed. It’s been a particularly long day, and the sweat she’d built up in the loathsome P.E. class she’s in is still lingering.

When she hits the third floor on her way to their fourth-floor apartment, she can already hear Nora’s cries. Except it’s not her usual hold me, hungry, or change me cry. It’s a blood curdling scream.

She immediately starts taking the steps two at a time to reach the front door. Fumbling with her keys, her hands are shaking when she finally manages to get the door open. She barely has it shut when she sees Nora lying in the play pen they keep in the living room. The baby’s face is completely red as she lets out the fiercest cries Olivia’s ever heard. When she rushes over and scoops her up, it’s obvious that her sister’s diaper hasn’t been changed in hours. Nora’s completely soaked, and her little legs are covered in feces.

“Shh, sweet girl,” Olivia soothes as she carries the baby to the bathroom to get cleaned up, the desire for her own shower forgotten.

Nora’s cries initially soften to a whimper at the sound of her sister’s voice, but as she sets about cleaning and changing her, the ear-piercing scream resumes. The cause is immediately evident—Nora’s skin is red and irritated and well on its way to what will likely be a painfully uncomfortable rash—no doubt the result of wearing a soiled diaper for God knows how long.

With Nora in her arms, Olivia mutters apologies one after the other. For leaving her alone with Serena. For letting her get hurt. For not protecting her better.

She knows instinctively that her mother is passed out in her bedroom, and that instinct is proven correct when she passes by it on her way to the kitchen. But she doesn’t bother to check on her for once. After all, Serena didn’t bother to check on Nora.

In the kitchen, Olivia’s heart drops when she sees that both the bottles of formula she’d pre-measured for Serena are right on the counter where she’d left them. Which means her mother hadn’t bothered to feed Nora for the five hours she’d been gone. With her sister still whimpering in her arms, she hastily moves to prepare a bottle—which the infant greedily sucks down as soon as it hits her lips.

As Nora feeds, Olivia’s mind is filled with a million what-ifs.

What if I hadn’t come home when I did?

What if Serena had smothered her when she’d passed out?

What if Nora had been seriously hurt?

And the worst of all.

What if she’d died?

The idea of anything happening to this little girl makes Olivia physically sick. And she has the overwhelming realization that she’s not sure she’d want to live in a world without Nora.

For years, and despite all evidence to the contrary, she has believed that her mother is capable of change. She’s held out hope that, under the right circumstances, Serena would realize the hurt she’s caused and make amends. While that belief and hope aren’t entirely gone, she knows now that can no longer depend on them.

Chapter Text

There’s a boy. Or more accurately, a man. He’s older and charming and he looks at Olivia like she may actually be lovable after all. He makes her think of words like soulmate and true love. When he asks her to marry him, she doesn’t hesitate to say yes. His proposal means she’ll be leaving home—something she had previously been counting the days toward—but now fills her with dread. Because now, getting away from her mother means leaving Nora. 

So she asks if they can slow things down—if he’ll wait for her, at least until she can get out on her own. Until she can make a home for Nora. He looks at her like she’s insane. Says that he only wants her. That they need time for just them. When that doesn’t sway her, his words turn cruel. He calls her naïve. Tells her that she has no idea what she’s giving up. That she’s crazy to think that any man will want to be saddled with a child that isn’t even his, let alone hers. By the end of the conversation, it’s apparent that whatever relationship she’d convinced herself they had is now over.

Part of her is heartbroken. But another part almost feels grateful she found out now that he would never accept that she and Nora are now a package deal. She resolves then to never let another man come between her and the most important person in her life.

She is surprised to find that his jab at her naïveté may end up serving a purpose. She had asked him to wait for her, confident in the belief that she needs, wants, and will be the one responsible for Nora’s long-term care. But she now realizes she has no concrete plan for exactly how that will come to pass, particularly if her mother doesn’t accept that her taking such an active role in raising Nora is an inevitability.

Which is how she finds herself at Columbia University’s pro bono family law clinic on a Friday afternoon in late fall.

She’d uncharacteristically decided to skip her last two classes, hoping to finish at the clinic before having to head home and collect Nora from Mrs. Abelman, her retired downstairs neighbor with kind eyes and a pleasant smile who has generously agreed to serve as Nora’s babysitter.

Upon arrival, Olivia sits among a dozen others, waiting to be called to one of several folding tables set up as makeshift offices, each staffed by a bright-eyed and eager law student. Simone Bryce is one such student. Her profile on the clinic’s flyer notes that the aspiring lawyer hopes to pursue a career advocating for the rights of children. Nora’s a child, and Olivia figures she still counts as one too, so she’s grateful that, when it's her turn, she ends up being called to Simone’s table.

She seems friendly enough, and, after brief introductions, wastes no time before asking, “What brings you here today?”

“I’m not exactly sure where to start,” Olivia admits.

Simone offers a gentle smile. “Wherever you’d like. You just talk, and I’ll listen. I’ll ask any questions I have, and then we can talk about how I might be able to help.”

“Okay,” she nods, feeling out of her element. “I guess I’m here about my baby sister. She’ll be one in January.”

“And how old are you?” she asks, no judgement in her voice.

“Seventeen,” she fudges. “Well, almost seventeen.”

The woman nods in understanding, encouraging her to continue.

“My mother’s not…she’s not really in a place to take care of Nora. At least not the way she needs. Or the way she deserves. I’m supposed to start college next fall, and I’ve already decided that I’m not going away—I’ll stay in the city, so I can live at home. That way I can keep taking care of her, and nothing really has to change for right now. But I have to start thinking about what comes after that. I can’t live with my mother forever, even if she’d let me, but I can’t just leave Nora with her either. I need to be able to take care of her, so I want to know what my options are—legally speaking.”

“Okay,” Simone nods, pen in hand. “A few questions—can you tell me, who takes care of Nora now?”

“I do. She stays with our neighbor during the day when I’m at school, and my mother watches her some of the time. But it’s mostly me.”

“And is Nora’s father in the picture?”

“I don’t think my mother even knows his name.”

“Do you know if there’s anyone listed as Nora’s father on her birth certificate? Even if it’s someone who may not actually be her biological father?”

“I don’t think so,” she answers uncertainly. “I can find out though if it’s important.”

“That will be helpful. But for the moment, let’s assume you’re right and no one’s listed. Before we talk through some options, I want to make sure I’m understanding—you’re hoping that Nora will be able to live with you once you leave home?”

Olivia is filled with an unexpected combination of ease and tension at the question. On the one hand, it’s validating that Simone seems to be taking her concerns seriously. On the other hand, it’s terrifying to realize that she’s making a plan that, if done right, will mean truly taking Nora away from their mother.

Seeing her hesitation, Simone offers, “You said before that you want to be able to take care of your sister. Why don’t we talk through that a little more, I’ll ask some more questions about your situation, and we can see if that helps you get a better sense of what you might want?”

She sighs with relief. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Okay, so I heard you say before that your mother isn’t in a position to care for Nora. Can you tell me a little more about why?”

“Well, she has…bad patches. She's good some of the time too though. And she usually keeps it together for her job. But the bad patches can sometimes last a while.”

“And what has that looked like for Nora?”

“She doesn’t always pay attention to her, especially if she’s drinking.” Olivia freezes, suddenly realizing what she’d said allowed. Her mother’s affinity for vodka isn’t something she volunteers easily. It’s one thing to know that her mother is a drunk. It’s quite another to tell a stranger.

But when Simone doesn’t bat an eye, she continues, “I try not to leave Nora alone with her if I don’t have to. Especially not for long periods of time.”

“What do you worry will happen if you do?”

“That she’ll get hurt,” Olivia admits quietly. “Or something worse.”

The woman gives her a sad smile. “What about taking Nora to the doctor? Is your mother able to handle things like that?”

“She probably could manage if she had to, but she usually leaves it up to me. I’m the one who makes the appointments, but my mother will take her sometimes, as long as I remind her.”

“Olivia, from what you’re saying, it seems like you don’t think Nora can live with your mother without you there and that your mother won’t be able to meet some of her other basic needs if you don’t keep track of things. Now, I can’t tell you what to do here—I can only advise you of your options and help you pursue the one you think is best—but it sounds very much to me like you’re saying that you’d like for Nora to come with you when you do eventually leave home and that you’ll need to be in a position to make important decisions for her. If I’m misunderstanding though, please tell me.”

“No,” Olivia breathes. “You’re not misunderstanding. That’s…that’s what I want. I’ve always known I was going to be the one to take care of her. I guess I just haven’t really let myself think about exactly what that means.”

“You don’t have to decide anything right now. Why don’t we just talk through some of your options?” Simone suggests, getting an affirmative nod in return. “One option would be for your mother to sign over Power of Attorney to you, which would allow you to make medical and educational decisions for Nora. The drawbacks are that it’s revocable. Meaning, your mother could change her mind at any time and end it, and there wouldn’t really be anything you could do. It also wouldn’t involve anything explicit about living arrangements. Based on what you’re telling me you want though, that doesn’t seem like the best way to go.”

“What are the other options?”

“You and your mother could come to a consent agreement. Basically you both would work out details about who Nora would live with and when, who would be able to make decisions about her health and education, and essentially anything else you want to account for related to her care. Then that agreement would be filed with the court without having to litigate anything. It would still be a binding custody agreement though, so if either of you wanted to modify it, you’d have to show the court why the change was in Nora’s best interest.”

“What if she won’t agree to anything like that?”

“Then, your only option would be to file a complaint for third party custody.”

“What does that mean?” Olivia replies, her head swimming.

“Well, normally, only a biological parent can file for custody of a child, but New York has a law that allows for other significant adults in a child’s life to have standing to file. From what you’re telling me, you would likely qualify as a significant adult under that law once you’re eighteen. Your mother would also be a party to the case, and so would Nora’s father, even if he’s unknown. But as a significant adult in her life, you would have just as much right as your mother to ask the court for custody.”

“I’d really have a chance of getting something like that?” she asks in disbelief. “Of actually getting custody of her?”

“It wouldn’t be an easy road, particularly given your age, but yes, legally, it’s possible—but only once you turn eighteen. That shouldn’t be an issue though if you follow through with your plan to wait until you’re finished with college to pursue anything. Ideally, you’d have a job then too—that would put you in an even better position because you’d be able to show the court that you have a steady income.”

“Okay,” Olivia nods. “Tell me everything I need to do.”

She spends nearly an hour talking with Simone about the ins and outs of New York custody law. She takes detailed notes, trying to capture every suggestion and recommendation the woman makes. There are plenty of things she assumed she’d have to do—get her own apartment with space for Nora, get a job, set up childcare. But Simone also tells her to start documenting everything—how much she takes care of Nora versus how much Serena does, who takes Nora to doctor’s appointments, days where Serena is nowhere to be found, anything that Serena does that could possibly be categorized as abuse or neglect. Simone is patient and thorough and never acts like her questions are a burden. When she leaves, the woman jots down her personal phone number on the back of the clinic flyer and tells Olivia to call her anytime.

It all feels overwhelming at first—thinking of everything she’ll need to do—but that’s quickly eclipsed by a sense of empowerment. Simone has given her the tools to come up with a long-term plan. And when the day comes where she has to fight for Nora, Olivia knows now that she’ll be ready.

Chapter Text

“Livie!” Nora shouts, running toward her big sister with a huge grin—which Olivia returns with equal enthusiasm. She bends down to meet the girl with open arms, and Nora doesn’t hesitate to fall into them.

She calls her Livie, and, more often than not, introduces her as my Livie. She says it like it’s a title—one that is as common and meaningful as mom or dad. Olivia returns the sentiment as often as possible, peppering her sister with the endearments my love and sweet girl.

“I’m so glad to see you,” Olivia gushes as she pulls back from her baby sister’s embrace. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too!” Nora replies, bouncing a little on her toes. “I didn’t know you were picking me up from school today. Does that mean I get to stay with you tonight?”

“Yep. In fact, you get to stay with me tonight, tomorrow, and all weekend.”

“Really?” she asks, beaming and practically shaking with excitement.

“Really, really,” Olivia smiles back.

It’s a brisk March afternoon, but the sun is out and there’s a feeling of spring in the air. As they walk home, Nora clutches her hand, swinging their arms lightly as she gives a full recounting of her day. Olivia listens with avid interest, asking question after question, which Nora happily answers.

Watching her baby sister, she can hardly believe how big her sweet girl has gotten.  At just over seven, Nora is now a first grader. She’s a kind little girl who loves school and dinosaurs and chocolate ice cream. She gives the warmest hugs, and her smiles are usually the best part of the day. When Nora was born, Olivia couldn’t imagine loving this beautiful little girl more, but with each passing day, she’s proven wrong.

The pattern that began in high school has continued through college and the academy. Serena may be physically present, but she’s remained emotionally absent and has consistently let Olivia take on the role of default parent. Unsurprisingly, Olivia’s been mistaken as a single mother more than once over the years when she’s attended doctor’s appointments, dance recitals, and parent-teacher conferences. She’s grateful that the looks and raised eyebrows that come her way either don’t bother Nora or escape her notice entirely.

After graduating from the academy just before Christmas, Olivia had made the difficult choice to move out on her own after finding a modest, rent controlled unit she simply couldn’t afford to pass up. But Serena has been surprisingly amenable to letting Nora stay over more nights than not and their informal co-parenting seems to be holding for the moment. Her sweet girl seems happy and healthy, so, for now, Olivia has let things lie rather than disturb the status quo. Though, as Simone had advised years before, she’s continued to document everything in preparation for the day when she needs to take more formal action.

“Can we have spaghetti tonight?” Nora asks, pulling Olivia from her thoughts.

“Hmm, that sounds good. You going to help me make it?”

“Of course. I’m a good soup chef.”

Olivia laughs, “I think you mean sous chef.”

“Is that the one who helps the chef who’s in charge?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay—then that’s the one I meant. I’m a good sous chef.”

They arrive home and work in tandem to prepare their meal. Olivia takes the lead, but her sous chef happily sets the table and watches to make sure the noodles are boiling properly. They sit down to eat, and, as always, Olivia moves to tuck a napkin into Nora’s shirt as a makeshift bib. Napkin secured, she gives her sister a gentle pat on the arm, but at the touch, Nora winces and pulls her arm sharply back.

Concern etches Olivia’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” the girl answers too quickly, eyes wide.

“Did you hurt your arm?”

Her baby sister looks downright panicked and rushes, “No, it’s fine. It’s not hurt.”

Caught in an obvious lie, Olivia presses, “Nora—please let me see your arm.”

“You don’t need to,” she insists. “I promise, it’s okay.”

“I’d like to see that for myself.”

Nora’s eyes drop to the table, but after a moment, she begins to roll up her sleeve, making visible a dark, purple bruise that was undeniably made by someone gripping or yanking her arm with a great deal of force.

Filled with a mixture of worry and rage, Olivia manages, “Who did this?”

“Nobody. I tripped.”

“No, you didn’t,” she pushes back. “Someone grabbed you.”

“You’re going to be angry if I say.”

“I won’t,” she insists.

“Your voice sounds angry,” Nora replies skeptically.

Olivia takes a breath, hoping to soften her tone.

“Okay,” she concedes. “Maybe I’m a little angry. But not at you—never at you. Mostly I’m just worried.”

Nora still looks hesitant. “Sweet girl, when you hurt, I hurt. And right now, someone’s hurt you. I can’t just do nothing when that happens.” Her sister opens her mouth, but, still, nothing comes out. “I know it might be hard to say what happened, but what’s the rule?”

“We always tell each other the truth,” her sister answers reluctantly.

“That’s right. I tell the truth, and you tell the truth—even when it’s hard or scary.”

That seems to do the trick, and, eyeing her plate, she finally manages, “It was mom.”

Olivia purses her lips and pulls in another deep breath, trying to hold back a scream. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened.”

“It was my fault,” Nora insists. “I asked her if I could spend the night with you, even though it wasn’t supposed to be your night. I just really missed you, and I could tell mom was going to have one of her sad nights and I didn’t want to be there. But she was really angry when I asked. She started saying unkind things about you, and I just got so mad. So I started saying unkind things to her too. I…I told her that I hated her, and that I wished I could live with you instead.”

“And that’s when she grabbed your arm?”

Her sweet girl nods in the affirmative. “She…she grabbed it really hard. And she pulled me into my room. And then…”

“Then what?” she asks when Nora trails off.

“Then…she pushed me, and I fell. That’s how I got the bump on my head.”

Olivia immediately reaches to run her hand softly through her sister’s hair, and, sure enough, her fingers find a goose egg the size of a golf ball.

Her blood is boiling, and it takes everything in her power not to completely lose it.

Nora senses her sister’s brimming anger and emphatically says, “Livie, don’t be mad at her. It was all my fault. I asked to come over with you even though I knew it would make her angry, so I deserved it.”

In this moment, Olivia has never felt more like a failure. That her beautiful, sweet, and kind baby sister would ever believe that their mother’s rage was her fault—let alone that she deserved to be subjected to it—guts her completely.

“Nora Jane, let me be very clear. No matter what happened—no matter what you did or said—no one, and I mean no one, has the right to put their hands on you or hurt you like this. Do you understand?”

“Okay,” the girl answers meekly.

“I need you to promise me that if anyone ever touches you or hurts you like this again that you’ll tell me right away, okay?”

“Even if it’s mom?”

“Especially if it’s mom.”

“Okay, Livie, I promise.”

“And I’m going to make you a promise too, sweet girl, that I will do everything I can to make sure nothing like this ever happens to you again.”

And, true to her word, she walks into the courthouse the following morning and doesn't hesitate as she enters the clerk’s office and files for emergency custody.

Chapter Text

To say that Serena is more than a little displeased upon learning that her eldest daughter has filed for custody of her youngest is an understatement. When the judge orders that Nora be temporarily placed in Olivia’s custody until there can be a full evidentiary hearing, her mother moves straight to irate.

By the time Olivia gets home from court after the judge’s ruling, her mother has already left a slightly slurred and profanity filled message on her answering machine, which she promptly deletes. When two more similarly hostile messages are left in the hours that follow, she unplugs the machine altogether.

The newly issued temporary custody order still includes weekend visitation with Serena, so Olivia knows she won’t be able to ignore her mother indefinitely. But the weekend is four days away, and she resolves not to think about it until then and instead to focus on Nora.

When she drops her sister off on Friday for the first visit, she wonders if her worry had been for naught. Serena isn’t even at home. Instead, Olivia finds a note on the door instructing her to leave Nora downstairs with Mrs. Abelman. The kind older woman gives her a sad smile when she opens the door and beckons a reluctant Nora inside. Before Olivia can even ask, Mrs. Abelman tells her that Serena thought that it was best if they didn’t see each other right now.

Olivia can’t help the sting that follows. Logically, she knew going to court would fracture the already precarious relationship she has with her mother, but it hurts all the same that her prediction has actually come to pass.

But Nora is there, looking increasingly concerned, so she pushes the pain down, gives her sister a hug, and promises she’ll be back to get her on Sunday. Before closing the door, Mrs. Abelman says softly that Olivia should come back to her apartment again to retrieve Nora on Sunday, which renews the sting.

The next few visits pass in much the same way. Olivia drops off and picks up Nora from Mrs. Abelman’s each weekend. Her baby sister seems slightly anxious with each transition, but she settles in at home within a day or two before they’re forced to repeat the whole thing again.

Her sweet girl says almost nothing about the visits when Olivia picks her up. When she prompts gently for more, asking how things had gone, she gets a repeating pattern of three-word answers.

It was fine.

It was good.

I had fun.

On Simone’s advice, she opts not to press Nora for more.

By week four, Nora seems settled in the routine. Weekdays with her. Weekends with Serena. Rinse and repeat.

By week five, Olivia starts to think that this schedule might actually work on a more permanent basis. But that hope is dashed when she arrives to pick Nora up on Sunday evening. Mrs. Abelman asks to speak with her in the hallway, and a sense of dread builds in her stomach. The woman tells her that Nora had seemed off. That her normally friendly and happy little sister has been quiet and withdrawn all evening. And when the woman tried talking to Nora, the girl had insisted that she was just sleepy and that nothing was wrong. Ms. Abelman thought it best not to push. That Nora would likely only open up to Olivia anyway.

Consistent with the older woman’s report, Nora hardly says two words on the way home. Olivia asks how her visit had been and gets only a shoulder shrug in response.

She wants desperately to press harder. Knowing in her gut that something is wrong. But she wants to let Nora come to her, so she holds herself back, offering only reassuring smiles and telling her sweet girl how much she loves her.

When they sit down to dinner, Nora remains silent—pushing food around her plate and taking only a few bites at her sister’s prompting. As Olivia moves to start clearing the table, she freezes at the sound of a small voice behind her.

“Livie,” Nora starts at a whisper. “Maybe you should stop.”

Sinking back down in her chair, she asks, “Stop what, my love?”

“Trying to get me. We can just go back to how things were.” It feels like she’s received a punch to the gut. “I know you’ve been taking off work a lot because of going to court, so it’s got to be costing you a lot of money.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. You’re more important than my job.”

“I just…I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it.”

“I don’t feel like I have to—I want to.”

“But—”

“No,” Olivia cuts off. “No buts. The only way I would ever stop is if you tell me that you’ve changed your mind and don’t want to be with me anymore. But I don’t think you’ve changed your mind. Did mom say something to you? About all of this?”

“Kind of.”

“Okay,” she inhales. “Can you tell me what she said?”

“Just that you were going to court to get back at her. And that you didn’t really want me, and you’d probably change your mind anyway. And that if I really loved you, I wouldn’t want to ruin your life like this and take away your chance to be a real grown up who lives all by themselves.”

Oh, is that all? Olivia thinks.

Nora says through tears, “Livie, I don’t want to mess up your life.”

“Oh my love, you could never in a million years mess up my life. Because you are the best thing in it. I love you more than anything else in the whole world. I’ve loved you from the very first time I ever saw you, and I will love you with my whole heart every day for the rest of my life. There is nothing that will ever change that, and there is nothing that could ever make me not want you.”

Lip trembling and tears still falling, her baby sister manages, “A-are you sure?”

She doesn’t hesitate to pull her into a tight hug. “I’m completely sure. I love you so much, sweet girl.”

They stay clutching each other for a few moments. When Nora pulls back, Olivia brushes the girl’s tears away and tucks her hair behind her ears.

“Why does she do this?” her sweet girl asks earnestly. “Why does she make me feel crazy? I know you want me, but when she says you don’t, it makes me feel like I might be wrong. It hurts, Livie. It hurts so much.”

“I know, my love. I know it does,” she soothes. “And I’m so sorry. I’m more sorry than I can ever say.”

“Why does she do that?”

“Because…because she’s hurting—she’s been hurting for a very long time. And sometimes, that hurt bubbles up, and it lands on other people. And that means she sometimes says things that are unkind or that she doesn’t really mean.”

“Is it something I did?” Nora says with worried look. “Is that why she’s hurting so much?”

“No,” Olivia rushes to reassure. “It’s nothing that you did.”

“Then why?”

“It’s…complicated."

“We tell the truth, Livie. Remember?” her sister says, sounding older than her seven years.

Olivia has known for some time that a question like this would eventually present itself. She wants nothing more than to dismiss, deflect, ignore, or even lie to escape it—fearing that the truth will mean that her sister smiles at her a little less. Maybe even loves her a little less.

She knows more than most that the truth isn’t always black and white, and the story of how she came to be is more than a little complex. Her sister may be nowhere near old enough to hear the unfiltered version of her story, but it’s hard to argue that she isn’t ready for something more watered down.

Swallowing her fears, Olivia starts, “A long time ago, my father, he did something that hurt her very badly, and she never really got over it. It’s something that still hurts her all the time. And sometimes, it’s even worse when she’s around me because I remind her of the way he hurt her, and it makes it feel like it's happening all over again.”

“But that’s not your fault—it’s your dad’s fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She lets out a single, watery, hollow laugh at the simplicity of the thought. “My head knows that, but my heart doesn’t always believe it.”

“Like how I know mom loves us, but sometimes it doesn’t feel like she does?”

Olivia sucks in a deep breath, overwhelmed at her sister’s insight. “Yeah. Kind of like that.”

“I don’t think she knows how to love us very good.”

Ain’t that the truth, Olivia thinks before more diplomatically replying, “I think it’s hard to love well when you’re hurting as much as she is.”

“No, it’s not,” Nora disputes, scrunching her nose in doubt. “I mean, mom hurts us, and we love each other really good.”

She smiles at that. “Well, you’re very easy to love.”

“So are you. You know, I think I love you more than ice cream.”

High praise, Olivia thinks warmly.

“Well, sweet girl, I love you more than chocolate.”

“That’s a lot,” her sister says, clearly impressed.

When she pulls Nora into another hug, she feels her sweet girl’s breath against her neck and a soft voice whispering, “Livie, I love you so much that sometimes it feels like it’s going to spill over.”

She squeezes the girl even tighter, stroking her hair as she does.

“My love, I feel exactly the same way about you.”

Chapter Text

The custody battle drags on for months. They’re ordered to mediation, where Serena refuses to engage. Then she hires a lawyer who files motion after motion, forcing Simone—now barred and building her own practice—to respond in kind. Olivia grows more nervous when her mother repeatedly presents well in court, holding herself out to be an esteemed, well-liked professor being needlessly dragged into court by her struggling shift-working daughter. It doesn’t help things when Serena’s lawyer sends a proposed witness list that includes almost a half dozen names, all willing to testify to how devoted her mother is to her students and how she’s never missed a day of work. Because dedicated professionals couldn’t possibly be neglectful mothers.

Simone doesn’t seem worried initially. But as the trial date approaches, concern creeps in, that Serena’s mask of professionalism may be an issue, and Olivia’s panic builds in kind. They talk for hours about trial strategy, and Simone drills her during witness prep, not pulling any punches. Olivia would be lying if she said that it didn’t hurt to hear Simone throw out every awful thing her mother might hurl at her in court—but when it smarts, she tries her best to push it away and think of Nora.

Two weeks before their trial date, Simone suggests there might be a way to tip the scales in their favor. An idea Olivia shuts down before the words are completely out of Simone’s mouth.

“Absolutely not.”

“I know it’s not ideal, but—”

“Not ideal? You’re asking me to have my seven-year-old sister testify in open court?”

Eyebrows raised, Simone says pointedly, “If you had let me finish, you’d know that’s not at all what I’m suggesting.”

Olivia gives a begrudging, apologetic nod before asking her to continue.

“A child’s opinion of their own best interest matters in custody cases. Nora’s on the young side, so her testimony wouldn’t carry the same weight as it would if she was a teenager, but she’s well-spoken and very consistent about what she wants. That matters. And I can file a motion asking that she be allowed to testify in camera, so she wouldn’t be on the witness stand—she’d be able to testify in the judge’s chambers.”

Olivia rubs her eyes in frustration. “Simone, the school is talking about putting her in therapy because she’s so anxious. She’s been having nightmares. God, she told me the other day that sometimes she gets up in the middle of the night just to make sure I’m still there. Having her testify? It’s too much pressure.”

“It wouldn’t have to be. When a child testifies in family law matters, there are accommodations we can ask for.”

“Like what?”

“Well, for starters, I would request that you and your mother not be present. I know the idea of not being in the room with her probably doesn’t thrill you, but if you don’t want Serena there, then you can’t be there either.”

“Is that it?”

“No, I can also ask that the lawyers don’t ask any questions. We’d be in the room, but just to observe. Nora would talk to the judge directly, and it would be very informal.”

“Talking to a judge isn’t informal.”

Simone sighs. “I wouldn’t be recommending this if I didn’t think it was worth it or if I thought it would be harmful to Nora.”

Pursing her lips, Olivia mutters, “She shouldn’t have to do this.”

“No, she shouldn’t, but if you want to keep her, then this will help make that happen. It might even be good for her.”

“How do you figure that?” she scoffs.

“I’m not denying that it can be intimidating to testify, but it’s also a chance for her to feel empowered. So much of her life right now is out of her control. Everything is dictated by other people, including the court. Letting her meet her judge and giving her a chance to say what she wants and how she feels about what’s happening—that gives her a voice in all of this.”   

At that, Olivia agrees to think it over. When she broaches the idea with Nora, it’s obvious that Simone had been right. Her sister is immediately interested in the idea, especially when Olivia explains Serena won’t be there. And, just as Simone had predicted, Nora actually seems downright excited at the notion of being able to tell the judge what she wants, at having some power in a situation where, up to this point, she has had no voice of her own. By the time they’ve finished discussing it, Olivia’s accepted that this decision just isn’t up to her anymore. It’s what Nora wants, so it’s what they’ll do.

Simone arranges for Nora to meet with the judge a few days ahead of the actual trial. The three of them arrive to court almost an hour early. Olivia’s teeth are on edge, but her sweet girl seems content as she peppers Simone with questions about everything—do all the judges wear robes? Do they all get one of those wooden hammers? Why do all the lady lawyers wear those shoes that clack on the floor? Simone answers each of them with patience and amusement.

When it’s time for Nora to actually go in, she suddenly seems reluctant. Olivia does her best to offer reassurance, telling her that she doesn’t have do anything she doesn’t want to. Her sister is nervous but resolute. When she offers Nora her beloved teddy bear, which Olivia had stuffed in her purse on the way out the door, her sister seems appalled at the idea of bringing it in with her, afraid that the judge will think she’s a baby if she’s seen holding the well-worn stuffed animal.

Simone offers to hold her hand on the way in instead, which is apparently not as mortifying. As the pair turn down the hall toward the judge’s chambers, Nora gives her a little wave, and Olivia tries her best not to be sick as she watches them disappear.

When they emerge almost an hour later, Simone looks pleased while Serena’s attorney decidedly does not.

“Simone says I did good,” her sweet girl says.

“She did beautifully,” the lawyer confirms. Nora beams with pride.

Olivia had promised ice cream afterward, and her sister’s eager to collect. Before they leave, Simone tells her that a recording of Nora’s testimony will be sent to each lawyer by the end of the day, and she can come by the office early tomorrow to watch it. Despite Simone’s praise of Nora, Olivia feels tense at the mere suggestion. But if her sister was brave enough to testify, then she should be brave enough to watch it.

She heads to Simone’s office first thing, hoping to watch the damn thing before her shift starts at nine. The girl who works the front desk lets her in and ushers her to a conference room before putting the tape in the VCR and leaving Olivia alone to view it.

The screen immediately shows the judge and Nora sitting opposite each other on a couch. Her sister seems shyer than normal, but it’s obvious she’s trying her best to seem confident.

Her sweet girl hasn’t even spoken yet, but Olivia’s never been more proud.

“Hello, Eleanor. It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Judge Linden.”

“Hi,” Nora answers bashfully.

“Do you know why you’re here today?” Nora gives only a tiny nod in response. “Are you feeling a little nervous?”

Again, Nora offers a nod.

“Well, I promise there’s nothing to be nervous about. We’re just going to talk for a little bit, and I’m going to ask you some questions about you and your family. And all you have to do is answer truthfully. Do you know the difference between a truth and a lie?”

“A lie is something made up or wrong. When you tell the truth, that means you say what really happened or how you really feel.”

“That’s exactly right. When I ask my questions, do you think you can tell me the truth?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Nora says with a little more confidence.

“Excellent. Now, I want you to know that if you don’t understand one of my questions or you’re not sure what the answer is, then you can tell me that. And if you want to stop or take a break, you just let me know, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Do you have any questions before we get started?”

“Just one,” she mumbles. “Could you call me Nora instead of Eleanor?”

“Is that what you like to be called?”

“Yeah,” she confirms. “My mom’s the only one who ever calls me Eleanor.”

“Then Nora it is,” Judge Linden smiles. “Are you ready for me to start?

When Nora says yes, she continues, “Why don’t we start with an easy one. What do you like to do for fun?”

“I like reading,” her sister answers, a look of relief that the question had, in fact, been easy.

“And what do you like to read?” the judge asks with interest.

“Everything. Livie takes me to the library on the weekend, and she lets me get as many books as I want. She reads to me a lot. Now that I’m bigger, I read on my own too, but I still like it best when she does it.”

“That sounds very nice. What else do you like to do for fun?”

“Well, I draw sometimes. Livie got me this big art set for my birthday this year, and I draw pictures for her all the time. I gave her one a few months ago, and she liked it so much that she put it in a frame and hung it up on the wall with all the real pictures.” She says it as though the “real” pictures were masterpieces instead of mass-produced prints.

“That must have been a lovely picture for her to hang it up like that,” the judge praises before moving on. “Now, I want to ask you a little about what a day at your house is like. Can you tell me what it would be like if I was at your house in the morning before you go to school?”

“Well, I wake up, and then get dressed and brush my teeth. Livie always makes sure I remember to do that because I forget sometimes. And then we have breakfast together. She usually walks me to school, but sometimes, if she has to go to work early, I walk with Ms. Johnson, our neighbor, because her son goes to the same school as me. But it’s mostly Livie who takes me.”

“And tell me about what happens after school?”

“If Livie walked me to school, then I walk home with Ms. Johnson and Leo—that’s Ms. Johnson’s son. I play in her apartment until Livie gets home, and then we have dinner together. If Livie has to work late though, then I stay all night with Ms. Johnson. But when that happens, she always makes sure that she’s there in the morning when I wake up, and then we do something fun, like get pancakes before school.”

“Does your sister ever pick you up from school?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to say that before,” Nora says looking worried. Judge Linden assures her that it’s perfectly fine. Her sister looks skeptical, like she still isn’t certain she hasn’t made a mistake, but she continues anyway, “Well, Livie picks me up on days when Ms. Johnson walks me to school. Those are the days when she doesn’t have to work late. If it’s nice, we go to the park or something. But sometimes we just go home and play and then have dinner and bedtime. But we do all that too on the days Livie picks me up from Ms. Johnson’s—eat dinner together and stuff. Livie says it’s important to do that as much as we can.”

“I think your sister’s probably right about that. You said that sometimes she has to work late. Does that happen a lot?” Nora looks slightly panicked, like she’s spilled a damaging secret, which Judge Linden must see because she adds, “Lots of grown-ups have to work. It’s not a bad thing—I just want to understand what that looks like for you and your sister.”

Nora seems appeased, answering, “Well, Livie works something called shifts. That means the times she has to go to work change a lot. Sometimes she has to work really late at night or really early in the morning. But other times she works in the middle of the day. She tries really hard though to be home when I’m there, so I still get to be with her a lot.”

“What kind of job does your sister have?”

“She’s a police officer,” Nora brags, looking like she’s just told the judge that Olivia is Wonder Woman herself. “She went to her big school first, and then she went to a special school just for people who want to be police. But she finished last year, so now she gets to be a real police lady.”

“How do you feel about her being a police officer?”

Nora looks especially excited to answer, “It’s so cool. She gets to catch real bad guys, and she keeps people safe. Livie’s really good at keeping people safe.”

“And what about your mom? What kind of job does she have?”

“She’s a teacher at a big school, like the one Livie went to. She teaches people about books and about different stories and what they mean.” Nora pauses, brow pinched in confusion. “I don’t think my mom works as much as Livie, but I see Livie a lot more.”

“I see. Well, I know you’ve been living with your sister during the week for a few months now. Can you tell me what a school day was like when you still lived with your mom?”

“It was mostly the same. Livie would do all the same stuff. I guess the only thing that’s different is that we stay at her house now instead of with mom.”

“Did your mom ever take you or pick you up from school when you lived with her?”

“Not really. Livie usually did. Sometimes I would go with Mrs. Abelman if Livie couldn’t get me.”

“Who’s Mrs. Abelman?”

“She’s my grown up friend. She lived on the floor below us when we lived with mom. She took care of me when Livie was at school. We had lots of fun together.”

“It’s always nice to have fun with a friend, isn’t it?” Nora smiles in agreement. “So, I know you’ve been staying with your mom on the weekends lately, but what did you and Olivia do on the weekends before that? Did you spend a lot of time together?"

“Yeah,” the girls nods excitedly. “We did lots of fun things. Sometimes we'd just do regular stuff though, like go to the grocery store or clean up the apartment. I don’t always like to do the regular stuff, but it’s not so bad because I get to be with Livie. I think I’d rather do regular stuff with her than fun stuff with anyone else.”

“And when you, Olivia, and your mom all lived together, what did you do on the weekends when Olivia wasn’t with you?”

“Sometimes my mom would do things with me, or I’d play in my room by myself. But Livie was mostly there. If she had to study or do stuff for school, she let me come with her. My favorite was when we got to go to the library. And not just the regular library—the really big one at her school. She would let me bring my own backpack with me, and I got to sit next to her and draw and read and play games while she did her homework. Sometimes the librarians would give me treats because I was extra good at being quiet—even better than the big kids Livie went to school with.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun! I feel like I know so much about you and Olivia. Do you like living with her?”

“I love it. She takes really, really good care of me.”

“What kinds of things does she do to take care of you?”

“She plays with me, takes me to the doctor when I’m sick, makes sure I eat my vegetables—even the green ones.” Nora scrunches her face at the mention of vegetables. “She fixes me up when I get hurt and stays with me when I have bad dreams. And she comes to all my stuff at school—even the boring things.”

“What about your mother? Do you like living with her?”

“Sometimes. I mean, she’s my mom, and I love her.”

“And what kinds of things does your mother do to take care of you?”

At that, Nora looks genuinely puzzled, like she’s searching her brain for an answer. “I…I don’t know. She reads to me sometimes, and when we lived with her, she gave Livie money to pay for things. And…she probably does other stuff too. I just can’t think of anything right now.”

“That’s okay,” the judge answers. “Nora, if it was up to you, who would you like to live with?”

Her sister tenses and eyes someone off camera, likely Simone, before hesitantly starting, “I don’t want to hurt my mom’s feelings.”

“Of course, you don’t—no one thinks that. Part of my job though is to decide where you’re going to live, so it would be so helpful to know what you think I should do.”

“I love my mom,” Nora insists. “But…I really, really want to live with Livie.”

“If you lived with your sister, would you still like to see your mom?”

“Yeah. As long as I could mostly be with Livie.”

“How do you think you would feel if you didn’t live with your mom?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a little sad. I really do love her.”

“I’m sure you do. Do you think you would miss her if you didn’t live with her?”

“I guess,” Nora answers quietly, suddenly fascinated with her hands and wiggling with discomfort.

“And how would you feel if you couldn’t live with Olivia anymore?”

Her sweet girl’s head snaps up, and she looks like she’s on the verge of tears at just the thought. “If I couldn’t be with Livie, I…I think I would be sad forever.”

As she watches Judge Linden thank Nora for talking with her, Olivia hopes the girl at the front desk can’t hear her sobbing through the conference room door.

Chapter Text

Watching Nora’s testimony leaves Olivia floating the rest of the day, and, for the first time, feeling like things might be okay. But when Serena calls just after Nora’s gone to sleep that evening, that happiness evaporates into something else. She assumes that her mother has also seen the video testimony and has called to unleash her anger. Instead, Serena’s tone is far more neutral, bordering on soft, than she would ever have expected in the aftermath of the previous day’s events. When she asks if Olivia can meet for coffee the next day, she wonders briefly if her mother has moved from alcohol to some type of hard drug. In her disbelief at the request, she inadvertently agrees to the meet.

When she arrives the next morning at the coffee shop, her mother is already there, sitting with a steaming cup of tea in front of her and looking contemplative as she stares out the window onto the street. She seems unusually at ease and surprisingly sober. Despite appearances, Olivia still finds her defenses are up, bracing for battle.

“Thank you for coming,” her mother says simply as Olivia slides into the chair opposite her. “Would you like something to drink? The herbal tea here is quite good. They use loose leaves instead of bagged. Makes for a much more flavorful brew.”

“No, I’m alright,” she answers, wondering how the hell her mother can so casually be discussing tea of all things.

“I suppose I should get right to the point then,” Serena says briskly. “I asked you here today because I wanted to speak to you about all this court business, just the two of us, without the lawyers. Lawyers always make things so contentious.”

“Okay,” she nods, internally rolling her eyes at the idea that the lawyers have been the cause of the contention.

“This fighting has gone on long enough, and, for Eleanor’s sake, I think we need to put an end to it.”

“I don’t want to fight any more than you do,” Olivia says tensely. “But I can’t give her back to you, mother.”

“I’m well aware of what it will take for you to agree to end this,” the woman says with a knowing and patronizing tilt of her head. “And I’m not suggesting you give her back. No, I’m hoping that we can come to some sort of… arrangement.”

“What kind of arrangement?”

“I believe my lawyer called it a consent agreement—something you and I would mutually agree upon that would be formalized through the court.”

“Are you serious?” she asks, wondering if she’d misheard.

“Entirely,” Serena confirms. “I have a potential arrangement in mind that I’d like to propose. And if there’s anything you take issue with or feel should be added, then I’m willing to discuss it and try to come to some sort of compromise.” 

“I’m listening,” she answers, suspicions still high.

“I’m willing to consent to you being awarded sole physical custody. I will agree that Eleanor can continue to live with you full time, but I would like to have visitation. I thought that at least one full weekend a month might be appropriate and perhaps a few hours on a Saturday in the interim. I’d also like to have her for at least two weeks in the summer and a holiday or two, and I’m willing to defer to you on which ones would be best.

“I would ask that we do share legal custody, although I’m willing to agree that you should have final decision-making authority. As my attorney explained it, that would mean that we would endeavor to make decisions together, but if we can’t agree or if I’m…unavailable, then you would be allowed to make the decision on your own. While that would be my preference, particularly so I can try to be involved with Eleanor’s education, if you feel strongly that’s not what’s best for her, then I would be open to discussing the idea of you being the sole legal custodian.”

Olivia feels her jaw go slack in absolute shock. She’s more than certain that a light tap to the shoulder would be all it took to push her clear to the floor. 

“Close your mouth, dear,” her mother says evenly before blowing on her tea and taking a sip. “It’s impolite to let it hang open.”

Olivia snaps it shut and shakes her head slightly trying to process what she’s just heard. “So, you…you’re offering to consent to what I’m already asking the court for?”

“Yes,” she confirms simply. “I assume that means you’re amenable to it?”

“Y-yes,” Olivia manages, still in disbelief.

“Do you have any concerns about sharing legal custody in the way I’m suggesting?”

“No, that’s…that would be fine.”

“Alright then,” Serena nods. “Now, is there anything else you think we need to account for in the agreement?”

Olivia hesitates. There is unquestionably something that needs to be accounted for, but she fears that voicing it may mean the end of her mother’s sudden and baffling cooperation. But she knows she needs to. For Nora’s sake.

“I’d like something in the agreement about what happens if it’s your visitation time, and you’re not…well.”

“I think you mean sober, dear,” her mother says with quiet resignation. “What type of provisions did you have in mind?”

“I need to be able to talk to her every day that she’s with you. And I’d like to see you before each visit to make sure that you’re…in the right frame of mind to take care of her. If you’re not, then I want to be allowed to cancel the visit. And if I find out that you’re drinking at any point during your time with her, then the overnights stop. You could still have shorter visits, maybe just a few hours at a time, but not full weekends. For the two weeks in the summer, you can’t travel with her unless we agree on it. At least not until she’s older. And I need to be able to see her during those two weeks. Not for long—just to check in, or if she needs it.”

“Anything else?” her mother asks in a seemingly genuine way that leaves Olivia even more confused than before.

She sucks in a breath before determinedly saying, “If you physically hurt her in any way, then the visits are done indefinitely. We could start them again if and only if I decide it’s safe.”

“I have no objection to those terms,” Serena says softly, eyes dropping to stare at her mug. She pauses briefly before briskly continuing, “Well, it seems we’ve reached an agreement. I’ll let my attorney know, and I’d ask you do the same with yours. Hopefully they’ll be able to formalize everything quickly, so we can be done with all of this.”

Olivia is now convinced that the woman before her is not, in fact, her mother. That perhaps she’d been replaced by a pod person. Or has an identical twin that Olivia’s never met.

“Mother, I just…I don’t understand. Why on earth would you agree to any of this?”

Serena again develops a fascination with her stirring her tea. “Contrary to what you may believe, Olivia, I want what’s best for both my daughters. I may not always have been the perfect mother, but that much is true. I can see now that perhaps I may have been mistaken as to what’s best. While I can’t change what’s happened in the past, I’d like to try and do right by you both now. And it’s clear that means allowing the two of you to be together, regardless of my opinion or feelings on the matter.”

Olivia can’t help but feel an overwhelming sympathy for the person before her. For the first time, she thinks that her mother’s rage and combative behavior throughout this process may not in fact have been driven by vindictiveness and instead may have been made in the haze of an astounding lack of awareness and the mistaken belief that she had truly been doing the right thing.

Despite all the pain her mother has caused over the years, she is deeply heartbroken it’s come to this. She loves Nora fiercely, and she can no longer fathom a world in which her baby sister is with anyone else. But she has never taken joy or reveled in the idea that her mother will be left out in the cold.

Olivia feels her eyes begin to water, but she swallows her emotion, knowing how strongly Serena dislikes such displays.

“I swear this isn’t how I wanted things to turn out," she whispers. "I never wanted to have to take her away from you.”

Serena gives her a tight smile. “Perhaps not. But that is where we are. And I’d rather not dwell on how we arrived here.” Her mother straightens, a sign that any further discussion is unwelcome. “Now, I have to be going. I’m sure we’ll speak again soon to finalize everything.”

Olivia just nods, eyes locking on the empty space her mother leaves after rising from the chair.

As her mother walks past on the way to the door, she abruptly stops. Without looking at her daughter, Serena says softly, “I know I haven’t said it as often as you may have liked, but…I do love you both very much. And I’m immensely proud of the young woman you’ve raised yourself to be. I know you will do the same for El…for Nora.”

And with that, her mother is gone. Leaving Olivia asking, what in the absolute fuck just happened?

Chapter Text

When she’s promoted to detective and assigned to the Special Victims Unit, her first choice, Olivia is initially skeptical when she’s partnered with Elliot Stabler. He’s undoubtedly experienced and skilled. He’s also cocky and a hot head, although even she can admit that his confidence and anger aren’t always unjustified. But he’s a good detective, and, after only a few months, it’s clear they work well together. It feels good, being so in sync with someone—playing a suspect in interrogation or knowing with only a look what the other is thinking.

Just four months in, she finds that, without her realizing it, Elliot has become something more than just a colleague. He’s a friend. Someone she looks forward to seeing each morning. Someone who’s easy to talk to and who, despite having more years on the job, treats her like an equal—like her opinions and instincts matter. Like she might actually be good at this.

He tells her all about his family. He talks about Maureen’s latest teen angst, how Kathleen wants to join the soccer team, that the twins are driving Kathy up the wall. Olivia takes it in, asks questions, shows a genuine interest that he clearly appreciates. He tries to reciprocate, asks about her family and her home life. But she mostly dismisses or evades the questions. She tells herself that it’s better to keep things to herself, for both her and Nora’s sake. She doesn’t need questions or judgmental looks. And Nora doesn’t need to be anywhere near her work. She convinces herself that this decision has nothing at all to do with how her staunchly Catholic partner might look at her if he knows about the tangled mess that is her personal life. Or if he knows why she felt compelled to join SVU in the first place.

So, she plays it close to the vest. And that works, for the most part. Until she and Elliot are working a child rape case, and her partner has the audacity to say that she wouldn’t understand what the victim’s parents are going through because she’s not a parent herself. She briefly has the urge to punch him in the nose—to throw it in his face that she’s been a parent for the last fourteen years and knows damn well what it feels like to love a child more than life itself. But she swallows her words when she remembers that it was her choice not to mention Nora.

Sitting in the sedan a few hours later, hoping to catch their suspect coming out of his apartment, there’s an obvious tension in the air, and she knows he can sense it. She’s been unusually quiet and has mostly ignored his attempts at small talk, only responding when he asks something case related.

By hour two, he finally asks, “You okay?”

“Fine,” she replies curtly.

“I do something to piss you off?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I’m convinced,” he retorts dryly, earning him a glare.

“Can you wrap your mind around the idea that not everything is about you, Stabler?”

“Just want to make sure we’re good, Benson,” he replies, poking fun at her use of his last name.

When she looks at his stupid face, with his stupid soft smile and his stupid blue eyes, she knows it’s a losing battle. 

Staring straight ahead, she begrudgingly admits, “It’s what you said earlier—about how I wouldn’t understand what our vic’s parents are going through because I’m not a parent too.”

“Yeah,” he answers slowly, acknowledging her words but obviously clueless as to where she’s heading with them.

“It was an asinine thing to say. I don’t have to have a child to have empathy or to understand that this is devastating for that little girl’s parents. And it’s also…not exactly true.”

He stares at her in disbelief. “You have a kid?”

“Sort of.”

“How do you sort of have a kid?”

“It’s complicated.”

“What does that mean?”

She sighs, preparing to spell it out for him. “I have a fourteen-year-old sister, and I’ve had primary custody of her since she was seven.”

There’s an unreadable expression on his face, his brow furrowed in confusion, as though she’s spoken in a foreign language and he’s still taking a moment to translate.

“We’ve been working together for almost five months. How the hell have you never mentioned that you have a kid?”

In that moment, she likes him even more. Because he hadn’t said how the hell had she never mentioned that she’s raising her sister. No. He’d said Nora was her kid. 

“Guess it never came up,” she dismisses.

“Sure. Because kids never come up on the job. And we’ve never talked about my kids. And I’ve never asked you about your family.”

“Look, I just don’t talk about her at work," she says defensively. "I have enough problems being a woman in this job. I’m a good cop, and I don’t need people assuming I’m not as capable or committed as everyone else just because I’m the single parent of a teenager.”

“Liv, I’d never think that,” he replies, looking slightly wounded that she may have thought otherwise.

The nickname—Liv—is relatively new. He’d started using it a month or so before, and it had irritated her at first, had felt too close to Nora’s special name for her, but she finds it’s growing on her. And she can’t say she hates the idea of having another special name. Especially one that he happened to have given her.

“It’s just a messy situation. Sometimes it’s easier not to talk about it.”

“Alright, well, do I get to know her name?”

Olivia softens at that, letting a half a smile peak out. “Nora. Her name’s Nora.”

“Nora,” he repeats. “Well, Nora’s a lucky kid.”

She feels warm from his praise, even if she doesn’t completely believe it.

“I’m the lucky one. Nora, she’s…she’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like,” he nods with a soft smile. “They change your whole life, don’t they? You think you know what love is, and they show up and prove just how wrong you were.”

“They really do,” she agrees wistfully.

“You said you’ve had her since she was seven?”

“Officially, yeah. Unofficially, I’ve basically been the one taking care of her since the day she was born.”

“By yourself? That must have been…rough,” he manages to finish.

She dryly answers, “That’s a word for it.”

“You have any help at all?”

“A few friends,” she answers, thinking of her kind neighbors, Ms. Abelman and Ms. Johnson. “But it’s mostly just been me and her.”

“What about your parents?” he asks innocently.

If that isn’t a loaded question, Olivia doesn’t know what is.

Seeing her hesitation, he starts to backtrack, “Sorry—didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s…there’s just not an easy answer to that.”

He tilts his head expectantly, waiting for her to elaborate.

“My mother had Nora two weeks before I turned sixteen, and she wasn’t really in a position to take care of a baby. She had…problems. We kept up the illusion that we were co-parenting for a few years, unofficially did the split time thing for a bit once I graduated from the academy, but, after a while, it just wasn’t safe for Nora to be with her anymore. So, I filed for custody.”

“What about Nora’s dad?”

“My mother was drinking when she got pregnant. If she knows who he is, she’s never told me.”

“And your dad?”

Her jaw tightens. “I have no idea who my father is. Neither does my mother.”

She opens her mouth to say more, to explain that her mother doesn’t know that name for a very different reason, but the words get stuck. There are only a handful of people who know the truth, about how she came to be. Her mother, Simone, a few trusted friends. Telling Elliot makes it feel more real somehow, like she’s letting a secret out of a box she can never close.

But she realizes she trusts Elliot, and it’s worth the risk.

“My mother was raped in college, and, nine months later, she had me.”

There’s a dawning realization in his eyes, and she’s terrified that it’s going to be followed by a look of sympathy or, worse, pity. Instead, he just nods in understanding and takes a sip from his coffee that’s gone cold.

“They never caught the guy who assaulted her,” she continues. “So, neither of us have ever known who he is.”

“That why you joined SVU?” he asks casually.

“Partly.”

“Well, you’re good at it.”

Hoping to lighten the mood, she retorts, “Better than you?”

“You give me a run for my money," he says with a laugh.

“Damn straight,” she smirks back.

He’s still smiling as he asks, “So, Benson, now that I know about your secret kid, you wanna tell me more about her?”

Now that’s a question she doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“Well, Stabler,” she says playfully. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Everything.”

And that’s exactly right answer.

Chapter Text

“Electrostatic detection apparatus report,” Elliot says.

“What the hell does that mean?” Olivia questions.

“ESDA. I never knew what it stood for either. It pulled up all the writing off the pad we found at White's. It didn't give us a hell of a lot, though.”

“What's it got?”

“A list of places. A gym, laundry, pharmacy, grocery store. I called them all to see if Fitzgerald used any of them. She didn’t.” With an intense look, he continues, “This is your gym, your laundry, your grocery store.”

“Nora,” she exhales, mind starting to race. “She went with me to the store yesterday. W-what if he—”

“Where is she now?”

Olivia scans their shared space for the keys to the sedan. “She’s still at school. She’ll be out in less than a half hour. But she doesn’t have anything afterward today, so she usually takes the subway straight home. I don’t know if I can get there in time before she leaves.”

“Liv—breathe,” he says calmly, standing up and spotting the item she’d missed in her panic. “The school’s 20 minutes away. I’ll grab the car and meet you out front. You call and get them to have her wait in the front office after last bell. Tell them not to let her leave until we get there.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” she nods, heart racing.

Olivia places the call immediately, hoping she doesn’t sound completely insane explaining her request to the school secretary. Somehow, she makes it downstairs where, as promised, Elliot is double parked with the engine running. The moment the door closes, he takes off.

She’s not sure if his calm demeanor is comforting or annoying. On the one hand, it’s nice to feel like she has someone who can ground her while she’s amid sheer panic. On the other hand, it’s irritating that the man she’s witnessed punch a trash can on more than occasion can be so calm, cool, and collected when she feels like she’s about to crawl out of her skin.

“I shouldn’t have baited him,” she whispers harshly. “I know what he’s capable of, and I put myself on his radar.”

“You were doing your job.”

“I was reckless,” she disputes. “It’d be one thing if it was just me, but it’s not. I have to be more careful. If anything ever happened to her, I…” She trails off, not able to follow that particular thought through to its conclusion.

“Nothing’s going to happen to her,” he says firmly. “She’s gonna be fine. We’ll make sure of it.”

That’s the second time he’s said that.

We.

Like they’re in this together. Like he’s just as responsible for Nora as she is.

Ordinarily, she’d revel in the feeling that sparks, but her mind just continues to spiral, “If he’s been watching me, he’s got to know where we live. What if he comes after her to get to me?”

“He won’t. We’re not going to give him the chance.”

There it is again—we.

“What am I going to do, El? She can’t stay at home, and I can’t afford to stay in a hotel for however long it takes to nail him. Where am I going to take her? I guess…I guess she’ll have to stay with my mom.”

Elliot looks at her skeptically, “I thought things had been a little tense between them.”

“They have,” she acknowledges numbly.

“Would she even go?” he asks, doubt in his voice.

He’s right to be skeptical. Over the past year, Nora’s become more and more resistant to spending time with Serena, always citing that she’s busy with school or activities. Last summer, their mother had planned a short trip for the two of them, but Nora had quickly dismissed the idea. Serena’s been more than understanding about it all, never making a fuss when Nora cancels last minute or leaves after only a few hours. But Olivia can see the hurt on her mother’s face.

When the pattern persisted, she convinced her sister that a monthly dinner with their mother was the least she could do, but Nora only agreed to attend if Olivia joined as well. They’ve managed three such dinners in recent months, each more awkward and painful than the next. It’s clear that Serena is trying. She asks questions, tries to learn about Nora’s interests, but her sister makes that experience like pulling teeth. Olivia plays the middleman—encouraging Nora to answer and providing partial answers to her mother’s questions in the hopes of prompting her sister to elaborate. At this point, she thinks that if she wasn’t there, Nora might not say anything at all.

Olivia rubs her forehead, “I don’t know. Even if she did, I’d be worried she wouldn’t stay. And besides, my mother doesn’t drive, and I don’t want her taking the subway by herself to school until this is over.”

“Then she’ll stay with me,” he replies easily.

He says it in such a matter-of-fact way. Like it’s an obvious and perfectly logical solution.

“El, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not,” he assures. “I’m offering. Maureen’s got a trundle bed, so Nora can bunk with her. Her school’s not that out of the way from the precinct. I can drop her off on my way in, so she won’t have to take the subway. And then one of us can get her afterward.”

It’s both a reasonable and insane plan all wrapped up into one.

“It’s too much.”

“It’s a good plan. And you know I’ll look out for her.”

And that settles all internal debate.

“Okay,” she exhales, not completely believing that she’s actually agreeing.

“That goes for you too, you know. You’d have to stick it out on the pull-out couch, which I can say from experience isn’t much better than sleeping on a rock, but it’s yours for however long you need.”

“I appreciate that, but if Nora can stay with you, that’ll be enough.”

“This guy’s got his sights on you.”

“I know. That’s why it’s better if I’m far away from her.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but he can’t say her reasoning is entirely faulty.

When they arrive at the school, he tells her to wait in the car—to give herself a minute to pull it together before she sees Nora. He’s out the door and headed to the entrance before she can argue.

She tries to relax her muscles and even out her breathing, but, within five minutes, both Nora and Elliot are headed toward her.

“What’s going on? Is something wrong?” Nora asks tensely as she slides in the backseat of the sedan.

“No, everything’s fine.”

“Livie, you and Elliot are picking me up from school. The front office secretary was looking at me like I was going to bolt, and she made Elliot show his badge before I could leave. What part of that is normal?”

“It’s not a big deal. There’s just something going on at work.”

“Okay,” Nora says slowly, trying to prompt her sister for more.

“It’s really nothing to worry about. But just to be on the safe side, you’re going to stay with Elliot for a couple of days.”

“What?” her sister says with incredulity. “Why?”

“Like I said, it’s just to be on the safe side.”

“And I’m not safe at home?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Olivia counters. “I’ll just feel better if you stay with Elliot and his family for a little while.”

“Where you going to stay?”

“At home.”

“So, it’s not safe for me, but it’s fine for you? How is that possible?”

Reaching her breaking point, Olivia sharply says, “Nora, I’m not asking. You’re staying with Elliot for a few days. That’s what’s happening. End of discussion.”

“But you still haven’t told me why—”

“Because I said so! That’s why!” she snaps.

She regrets the words immediately. She’s always prided herself on being open with Nora, giving her answers and explaining the why of it all, which a because-I-said-so most decidedly does not. Her guilt is amplified when she sees her sister’s face in the rearview mirror. If looks could kill, the one on Nora’s face would take out everyone within a city block.

Olivia takes another deep breath, trying to temper herself, “We’re going to go home, you’re going to pack a bag, and then you’re going to come back to the station with us until Elliot goes home. Okay?”

“Apparently it doesn’t matter if I’m okay with it,” the girl mutters.

“My love, I need you to just trust me on this,” Olivia pleads. “Can you do that? Please?”

Her sister says nothing, just pulls out her Walkman and slides her headphones on.

As Olivia leans back into the headrest, Elliot gives her a sympathetic look before turning his eyes back to the road and heading toward her apartment. Nora doesn’t say a word when Elliot parks in front of their building, but, to Olivia’s surprise, packs an overnight bag without protest, save for a look of contempt.

When the three of them arrive back at the station, Nora’s glare is still present, but she softens when Munch sneaks her a couple of one-dollar bills for the vending machine and even lets out a half smile when he offers a joke.

Within an hour, Elliot announces he’s heading out, noticeably earlier than usual in an obvious effort to make sure he and Nora are home in time for dinner. Looking at his partner with concern, he asks if she wants him to drop her off on the way, but she brushes him off. Says she’ll get a cab. He tells her to call him when she’s leaving and then again when she gets home.

She cocks her head at him, a faint smile on her face, “You’re not gonna leave until I agree, are you? You stubborn son of a bitch.”

“Yes, I am,” he smirks back.

“See you tomorrow,” Olivia says, nodding him toward where Nora is waiting in the upstairs lounge.

Her sister comes trudging down the stairs, bag in hand, and glare still in place.

Olivia walks with her toward the squad room door before gently prompting her to stop.

“Hey,” she starts softly. “I know you’re not happy about this. And I’m sorry. I really am. But I need you to do this for me.”

“Yeah, you said,” her sweet girl replies, jaw tight, not meeting Olivia’s eyes.

“It’ll only be a couple of days.”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful?” Nora asks quietly. “You’re not the only one who worries.”

Olivia see now that her sister’s anger has been a mask—covering up fear and anxiety she wasn’t ready to show.

She tucks a strand of Nora’s hair behind her ear, giving her cheek a soft stroke, “I will. I promise. I love you so much, sweet girl.”

“Yeah, yeah,” her sister replies, but the glare is gone, replaced by the tiniest smile.

“I’ll call you in the morning, okay? Before you leave for school.”

Nora just nods before trailing after Elliot.

Olivia turns back to the squad room, but a voice stops her.

“Hey, Livie?” Nora calls, waiting for her sister to turn back. “I love you too.”

Chapter Text

“But why is she staying here?” Maureen moans. “And in my room.”

“Your dad and Olivia are working a hard case,” Kathy explains as she moves around the kitchen. “They just want to make sure her sister’s taken care of until it’s finished.”

“They always work hard cases. What’s so special about this one?” 

“It doesn’t matter. Your dad and Olivia think this is what her sister needs. We’re in a position to help, so that’s what we’re going to do.”

“I still don’t see why she has to stay in my room.”

“Maureen,” Kathy sighs with exasperation. “Please go get the extra sheets down and set up the trundle.”

“Whatever,” the teen scoffs, crossing her arms before stomping up the stairs.

Less than ten minutes later, Kathy hears the front door open followed by the sound of shoes scuffling in. Her husband appears in kitchen a moment later with a reluctant, uncomfortable girl trailing behind him.

“Hi Nora,” Kathy greets warmly, as Elliot disappears upstairs to change.

The girl gives a shy smile, looking more than a little nervous. “Hi Mrs. Stabler. Thanks for having me.”

“Of course. Come in and put your stuff down. Dinner will be ready in about an hour. We’re having lasagna. I hope that’s okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Well, while everything’s cooking, you’re welcome to go watch TV with Kathleen in the living room or you can head up to Maureen’s room and get settled.”

“Actually, would it be okay if I worked at the kitchen table?” she asks hesitantly. “I managed to get some homework done at the station, but I’ve still got more. I’d rather get it out of the way before dinner.”

“Absolutely—do you want something to drink while you work?” she asks kindly.

“No, I’m okay. Thanks though.”

Kathy watches as Nora takes a seat the table, unzips her bag, and pulls out a well-worn copy of Romeo and Juliet, along with a legal pad. The girl stares intently at her book, highlights passages with a yellow Sharpie, and makes notes on the pad beside her. Despite her initial refusal, Kathy pours the girl some ice water and sets it down without a word. Nora gives her a grateful smile in return.

After forty minutes of studying, Nora starts to repack her bag, leading Kathy to ask, “All done?”

“Never,” the girl smiles back. “But I need a break. Sophomore Comp is kicking my butt. I’m more of an Algebra and Chemistry girl.”

“Well, your break is coming at the perfect time—we’ll be ready to eat in the next few minutes.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” she asks uncertainly, moving to sit on one of the stools at the kitchen counter.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind,” the girl answers with a shrug.

Looking around for a task, Kathy offers tentatively, “You want to slice the bread for me?”

“Sure,” she nods before accepting the offered loaf, cutting board, and bread knife. “It smells really good.”

“Thank you—I hope it tastes good too.”

“I’ve never made lasagna. Is it hard?”

“Not at all—it’s actually one of my easy, week night go-tos,” she admits. “Do you cook at all?”

“A little. I’m not very good though. I can do a few things—like pasta and stir fry. I made this baked rosemary chicken thing a while ago that was mostly edible. But my only critic was Livie, so that's not exactly unbiased feedback.”

“I’m sure you’re better than you give yourself credit for."

“I really doubt that," Nora says dryly.

“Cooking isn't about skill. It's all about practice—the more you do it, the better you get.”

“Yeah, I probably should do it more. Most of the simple stuff I’ve made I just figured out myself, but I’m always a little intimidated to try more complicated things on my own. Livie can do the basics too, but she’s not exactly the greatest cook. She…tends to make the smoke detector go off. But she can order take out like nobody’s business.”

Kathy laughs. “Well, I’m happy to give you a few pointers sometime if you want.”

“Yeah,” Nora says with real interest. “That’d be cool.”

When she finishes slicing and loading the breadbasket, Kathy says with a nod toward the table, “You can go ahead and put that there—I’ll get everything else. And thank you so much for doing that.”

“No problem,” she brushes off. “I’m happy to help. I know you guys have a full house, so I really appreciate you letting me stay here—Livie does too.”

“It’s no problem at all. We’re happy to have you,” Kathy replies sincerely.

When Elliot had called her just a few hours ago and said Olivia’s sister would be staying with them for a few days, she had initially been irritated at the fact that he’d told her instead of asking, but she pushed the feeling down, hearing the obvious concern in her husband’s voice. Still, she can’t deny that there is at least some part of her that resented her husband for bringing a piece of Olivia Benson home at the end of the day. She also hadn’t exactly been thrilled when he’d warned that the girl was less than excited to be joining them.

From her husband’s warning and her knowledge of Olivia, she’d expected a smaller, moodier version of Elliot’s partner to walk through her door, but she’s surprised to find how dissimilar the sisters seem from one another. They clearly share physical similarities, and no one could deny the two are siblings. It’s also apparent that the two have more than a few overlapping personality traits—kindness and intelligence chief among them. But the differences are also just as clear. Nora seems shy and unsure of herself where Olivia is open and confident. Nora is clearly her own person and one that Kathy is happy to have in her home.

As the kids crowd around the table, fighting over seats and anything else they can, Nora seems to grow more and more uncomfortable, like she’s not sure what to do with herself around Kathy’s rowdy brood.

“So, Nora, what grade are you in?” Kathy asks, hoping to put the girl at ease.

“Tenth.”

“So is Maureen,” she notes as a happy coincidence. Nora nods, clearly not sure what else to say or feeling ready to expound any further. “How are you liking sophomore year so far?” 

“It’s good. Stuyvesant’s pretty challenging, but I like it.”

“You go to Stuyvesant?” Maureen pipes up with a mixture of jealousy and admiration. “That’s so hard to get in to. A bunch of my friends applied there, but I only know one kid who actually got in.”

“That’s tough,” Nora sympathizes, “It’s pretty small compared to how many people apply, so they turn down a lot of great people. Plus it’s so focused on the admissions test. And what does that even tell them?”

“I know, right?” Maureen agrees, accepting the words meant to soothe her burn. “They should really look more at the whole person.”

“So, do you live near there?” her eldest daughter continues, taking over the job of coaxing Nora into the conversation.

“We’re on the Upper West Side. The commute’s not bad though. It’s a pretty straight shot on the 2 train.”

“You take the subway to school? By yourself?”

“Yeah,” Nora confirms slowly, slightly confused as to why this seems to be so impressive.

“Maureen doesn’t get to go on the subway by herself like that,” Kathleen supplies helpfully. “Mom or Dad drive her to school.”

“Oh, well, we don’t have a car, so that’s kind of my only option.”

Out of nowhere, Dickie decides to join the conversation.

“Do you like insects?” he asks with an enthusiasm that could only come from a six year old.

“Um, yeah, they’re pretty cool,” Nora answers, easily adjusting to the change in subject.

“I like them too,” he says with an enthusiastic grin. “They’re crawly and creepy and gross.”

Nora chuckles, “Do you have a favorite?”

“Spiders!” he exclaims.

“Spiders are definitely cool, but they actually aren’t insects.”

“They aren’t?” Dickie replies, jaw dropped.

“Yeah, they’re actually called arthropods.”

“What does that mean?” he asks with rapt interest.

“Well, it’s a category of animals. Scientists put all animals into different categories based on different things about them. Like how many legs they have. Spiders are arthropods because they have eight legs, and they have joints in their legs—like your knees are joints. Insects don’t have those kinds of joints, and they only have six legs.”

“Wow,” he answers in awe. “You’re really smart.”

“Thanks,” she says with an amused smile. “I bet you’re really smart too.”

“Not as smart as me,” Lizzie adds quietly.

“Am too,” Dickie insists, obviously insulted.

“Are not.”

“Am too!”

“Are not!”

“Okay,” Kathy bursts in. “You’re both very smart—it’s not a competition.”

“But I read better than Dickie,” Lizzie mumbles in frustration. 

“Yeah, well I’m better at math,” the boy says back, sticking his tongue out.

“You know I have a sister, and we’re both smart like you guys but we’re good at different things too,” Nora says, hoping to ease the dispute. “My favorite classes are math and science, but when she was in school, her favorite was English. But that’s a good thing.”Then she smiles and leans toward them, like she’s letting them both in on a secret. “It’d be boring if we were all good at the same stuff.”

When the twins both eagerly agree, Kathy mouths a silent thank you to Nora.

“I only have big sisters. Is your sister a big sister or a little sister?” Lizzie inquires.

“Big sister.”

“How much bigger?”

“She’s actually a grown up. She works with your dad.”

“Like Olivia!” Dickie exclaims.

“Olivia is her sister,” Maureen says, rolling her eyes.

“Olivia’s really cool,” the boy adds, either ignoring or missing his sister’s derision.

“Yeah, she is,” Nora agrees. “But don’t tell her I said that. Big sisters aren’t supposed to know that we actually think they’re cool.”

Dickie laughs as he shovels lasagna in his mouth. “I like you.”

Nora chuckles back. “Well, that’s good because I like you too.”

“What about me?” Lizzie asks with concern. “Do you like me?”

“Definitely,” the older girl assures her, leaving Lizzie visibly pleased.

When dinner is over, the twins excitedly starts to pull Nora upstairs—Dickie babbling something about showing her his collection of plastic bugs and Lizzie itching to show off some of her books. Nora seems reluctant to go before helping clear the table, but Kathy assures her that she’ll be of even more help if she can keep the kids occupied until bath time. Kathleen heads to her own room, but Kathy can’t help but smile when Maureen, who usually can’t shoo the twins away fast enough, follows behind the trio.

After cleaning up, Kathy makes her way up to the twin’s room where Dickie and Lizzie are showing Nora toys and trinkets alike with unabashed enthusiasm. Nora meets them with equal excitement and interest. She sees Maureen lingering near the doorway, clearly trying to find an opening to insert herself. Kathy holds back, curious to watch and hoping that none of the room’s occupants can see her.

She hears Maureen casually say, “Hey, um, I got the trundle bed pulled out, and I brought your bag upstairs.”

“Thanks,” Nora answers sincerely. “You didn’t have to do that. I would have helped.”

“It’s cool. I didn't mind,” Maureen replies with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. “Do you want to come to my room? I can show you where everything is and maybe we can watch some TV or something.”

Displeased at the idea of his new playmate leaving, Dickie interjections, “Nora can’t come play with you Mo. She’s playing with us—she’s our friend.”

Before Kathy can jump in, Nora admonishes, “Hey, bud, that’s not a very nice way to talk to your sister. You should say sorry.”

“But I want you to keep playing with us,” he pouts.

“Tell you what, you’re supposed to have your bath pretty soon anyway. Why don’t I go hang out with Maureen for a little bit while you do that. Then, if you say sorry to her, and when you’re all ready for bed, we can read a book before you go to sleep.”

Dickie seems like he’s considering the idea, but he then thinks better of it and whines, “But we were friends first! “

Nora says confidently, “I am definitely your friend, but I can be Lizzie and Maureen and Kathleen’s friend too.”

“I don’t want to say sorry.”

“Why not?” she asks, genuinely interested in the answer.

“Because I just don’t want to.”

“I get that,” she nods empathetically. “But let me ask you, do you think what you said to Maureen was very nice?”

“No,” he admits begrudgingly. “But why do I have to be nice to her?”

“Because she’s your big sister, and big sisters are the best. They look out for you, and they teach you stuff. They’re basically like superheroes.”

Dickie looks skeptical but intrigued. Seemingly accepting his new friend’s wisdom, he manages to mumble with only a slight scowl on his face, “Sorry, Mo.”

“That was awesome,” Nora says before offering a high five that helps replace Dickie’s scowl with a smile. “It’s super hard to admit when you did something wrong. There are even some big kids and grown-ups who can’t do that.”

Her praise leaves the boy with a proud smile.

As the twins head to bath time without the usual struggle, Kathy think she just might want to adopt Nora Benson.

+++++++++

“Nora, what would you like for breakfast?” Kathy asks when all the kids gather in the kitchen the following morning. “We have cereal, toast—I think there’s some frozen waffles left too.”

Agreeable as ever, she answers, “Cereal’s fine.”

Kathy hands her a bowl and points her to the milk and box on the table where Maureen and the others have already started eating.

“Now, do you take your lunch? I’ve already packed everyone else’s, but I can put something together for you too.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” she replies. “I usually buy it.”

“Okay. Well, Elliot will be down in a few minutes to take you to school.”

As soon as Nora sits, Dickie starts peppering her with questions just as he had the night before, which the girl does her best to answer between bites of Cheerios. Their back and forth is broken though when a loud, unfamiliar ringing echoes through the kitchen. Nora obviously recognizes it because she moves instantly to the front pouch of her backpack and pulls out a translucent blue object.

Maureen’s eyes widen and her jaw is practically on the floor. “You have a pager?”

“Um, yeah,” she answers, only half paying attention as she looks at the device. Nora looks anxious as she asks, “Mrs. Stabler—can I use your phone? It’s Livie. She said we could talk before school.”

“Of course—there’s one in the living room.”

As soon as she’s out of sight, Kathy knows what she’s about to be hit with, and, unfortunately for Elliot, he chooses that moment to join them.

“I told you that kids my age have pagers,” Maureen glares at the perceived injustice.

“And I never said they didn’t,” she replies evenly. “But that doesn’t mean you need one.”

“Nora’s the same age as me, and Olivia thinks she needs one.”

“She’s in a different situation than you are,” Elliot jumps in as he pours himself a cup of coffee.

“Our parents are both cops. We’re both in high school. It doesn’t seem that different to me.”

“It’s very different,” he counters. “You have two parents, you live close to your school, and one of us is always around to drive you places. That’s not true for Nora—it’s just her and Olivia. Olivia works all the same long hours as I do, and she’s not always able to be there when Nora gets home at the end of the day or to take her to activities or her friend's houses. It’s a safety issue—she and Olivia need to be able to get in touch with each other.”

“It’s still not fair,” Maureen gripes.

The debate is quickly dropped when Nora reenters the room, looking much more relaxed than she had before the call.

“Everything good?” Kathy asks.

“Yeah,” she nods happily. “She’s good. She said she got the guy.”

“She said what?” Elliot asks heatedly, eyebrows raised.

Sensing his surprise, Nora hesitantly answers, “She didn’t give me the details or anything. She just said that something happened early this morning, and she and Munch got him.”

Elliot looks livid, although he manages to tamp it down fairly well.

“She said I could come home tonight, so I’ll just go grab my other bag,” she adds before heading up stairs.

When their houseguest is out of earshot, Maureen declares, "Well, this sucks. She’s only been here one night.”

Kathy says sharply, “I don’t think Nora would agree with you on that. Her sister was in danger, and now she’s not. It’s a good thing it only took one night.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” her daughter says regretfully. “I just meant that it’s been cool having her here. It would’ve been nice if she could have stayed longer.”

“She’s not moving to another country—she just lives thirty minutes away.”

“So she can stay over again some time?” Maureen asks hopefully.

“Of course she can—she’s welcome here any time,” Kathy confirms.

While his children’s newfound love for Nora would normally have thrilled Elliot, the whole thing barely registers—his mind focused on what could have changed overnight and how the hell Olivia hadn’t brought him in on it.

He’s still marinating in his upset as he drives Nora into the city, not realizing that he hasn’t been talking until she asks, “I’m guessing you’re pissed because she didn’t call you about whatever happened this morning?”

Elliot clenches his jaw, trying not to vent his anger. “It’s…we’re partners. It’s my job to back her up.”

“She knows that.”

“Apparently not,” he grumbles under his breath.

“I don’t know if you realize it, but, her letting me stay with you is kind of a big deal.”

Elliot’s interest is peeked as he waits for her to continue.

“Livie’s always been really protective. Her letting me do stuff on my own—that’s pretty new. She gave me this big talk before I started high school about how she wants me to feel confident in myself and have life experiences or whatever, which was just code for her being afraid that I’ll be a weird hermit with no friends if I’m not allowed to go at least some places by myself. But even though she’s trying to loosen up a little, when it comes to safety—she’s hard core.

“When I started at Stuyvesant, she gave me a multi-hour lecture about personal safety and how to be aware of my surroundings and all that. I swear, I thought she was going to bust out a slide show to go with it. And she got me a pager, which I know people think is cool, but there are strict rules. I have to page her when I get to school and when I leave. If I’m with a friend or doing stuff after school, I have to page her every time I change locations and again when I get wherever I’m going. And when she pages me, I have to call her within 15 minutes. No exceptions. If I don’t, I’m on lockdown for a month. She…she always says she doesn’t want me to be afraid of the world, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know she is. She worries—all the time. And I get it. I really do. Her whole life has been—”

Nora stops herself, like she’s started to say too much. “She just…she expects the worst because, for her, that’s what usually happens, so it’s not a huge shock that she has trust issues. It takes a lot for her to trust someone and even more for her to trust someone with me. She’s had a bunch of partners over the years, but you’re the only one I’ve ever met—I think you might be the only one who even knew I existed. I may not know exactly what all this was about, but it was obvious she was freaked yesterday. So, the fact that she was that worried and she still let me go with you, it means she really, really trusts you."

Stopped at a light, Elliot looks at her with a mix of awe and respect.

“What?” Nora asks, squirming a little under his gaze.

“She always brags about you. About how smart you are. It’s just nice to see how right she is.”

She blushes a little before asking hopefully, “So does that mean you’re not still pissed at her?”

“You took the edge off,” he smiles softly. “And I hope she trusts me as much as you think she does.”

“She does. She’s not always so great at putting that kind of thing into words, so you have to do a little deciphering.”

“Deciphering?”

“You know, you’ve got to read between the lines a lot. It also helps to pay just as much attention to what she’s not saying. Don’t worry though—you only speak Olivia Benson with a working proficiency. There’s a long way to go before you’re fluent. But you’ll get there.”

He lets out a laugh. “Is that right?”

“Yep,” she smirks back. “Lucky for you though, I’m a native speaker.”

Chapter Text

“How long have you been sleeping with Cassidy?” Elliot asks casually.

Olivia stiffens, “Uh, I'm not.”

He gives her a disbelieving glance, “Your stomach just dropped two floors, Olivia. The unconscious doesn't lie.”

“I'm not lying,” she denies initially before amending, “Not much.”

“Um-hmm,” he nods, like he knew all along.

“Is it that obvious?” she asks nervously.

“I'm your partner. For better or worse,” he says. “Look, everybody knows too much about everybody else in this office, anyway.”

“I broke the rules, Elliot. Some very important and personal ones. It’s not just that we work together. That would be bad enough, but I…I broke the big rule. I broke the only rule that matters.”

He leans against the lockers. “This have something to do with Nora?”

Olivia squeezes her eyes closed in shame, so he knows he’s right on the money. “I don’t bring guys around her. And I don’t just mean sometimes, I mean never. I’ve dated a little over the years, but I’ve never introduced her to anyone, and I’ve never brought anyone home.”

It’s clear that she has more to say, but she’s too busy mentally beating herself up to voice it, so he prompts gently, “What happened?”

“She walked in on us,” Olivia exhales, her voice full of shame. “Not in the middle, but…close enough. She was supposed to be at a friend’s house for the night, but she decided to come home early. She paged me when she was on her way, but I…obviously didn’t see it.”

“Was she upset?”

“Yes, but…not for the reason you’d think. She thought she ruined something for me. She just kept apologizing. She’s my biggest priority, but I’m not supposed to be hers.”

“She loves you. It’s okay for her to want you to be happy,” he comforts. “How’d Cassidy handle all this?”

“I made him leave once she got there, but he’s tried talking to me since. He doesn’t see what the big deal is because he’s met her before,” Olivia says, shaking her head slightly at how diluted the man is. “He still wants to see me again.”

“Can you blame him?”

“Nora thinks I should."

“Really?” he asks skeptically. “She’s only met him once for five minutes.”

“I don’t think it’s about him specifically. She’s…I think she’s worried that it’s her fault if I don’t.”

“Did you tell her it’s not?”

“Yes. Doesn’t mean she believed me,” she answers. “I’m not…I can’t do this with him right now. I can’t have someone around her like this. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Her or you?”

“Her,” she says pointedly. “I’ve been down that road before with…someone. A long time ago—just after she was born. He was older, but I could not have loved him more. And I thought he loved me, but…”

“He wasn’t interested in Nora,” he finishes, letting her mention of older slide.

“That’s putting it nicely. He thought I was insane for wanting her so badly. He couldn’t understand that she was already mine.”

“If he didn’t get that, then he wasn’t worth your time.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. I’ve always felt like he did me a favor. It was better that I found out how he felt about her before things went any further. After that though, I promised myself that Nora would always come first. And I failed.”

“You didn’t fail,” he disagrees.

“I brought someone into her home, like it was nothing.”

“It’s your home too.”

“It’s my home with her.”

“Olivia, you’ve got to cut yourself some slack. You’ve done a great job with Nora. This doesn’t change that.”

“But I screwed up.”

“Yeah. And you’ll probably screw up again at some point.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she replies with a half-hearted glare.

“All parents screw up. This one mistake doesn’t wipe out the years of good parenting you’ve put in.”

“I wish I could convince myself of that,” she sighs. “I just want this all to go away.”

“Look, be nice to him. Maybe even over-nice. He'll be cold, but he'll get over it. And, more importantly, Nora will too.”

“Really?” she asks skeptically.

“Really,” he confirms. “She’s a good kid, and you’re a good mom. She’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” she answers, not believing him entirely.

He nods toward the captain's office. “Come on. Cragen's waiting for us.”

Chapter Text

“Hey,” Olivia says with surprise as she walks through the front door to see Nora at the kitchen counter, books spread out in front of her. “I thought you were studying downstairs with Mia?”

“I was, but then things got cut a little short,” the girl says.

“What do you mean?”

Her sister looks up and says with a grimace, “Mia’s abuela found out that she’s been secretly dating this guy from Brooklyn Tech, and she was definitely not happy. There was a lot of yelling, so I slipped out.”

“Oh, wow,” Olivia comments, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah. It was basically World War III down there. Mia’s pretty much grounded until she turns eighteen, so I won’t be seeing her outside of school for a while.”

Mia Álvarez had been one of Nora’s closest friends since she’d moved into the building with her grandmother three years before. The girls got along well, had shared interests, and were both more likely to be caught studying on a Friday night than out with friends. But they also shared a similar history. While Nora had been raised by Olivia, Mia’s abuela, Mrs. Álvarez, had stepped in to do the same when Mia’s mother had died when the girl was just two.

Very quickly, Mrs. Álvarez had developed an obvious fondness for Nora, insisting the girl call her abuela just as Mia did, constantly offering her food, and looking in on her when Olivia had to work late. It bothered Olivia that her long hours didn’t always allow her to return the same kindnesses, but Mrs. Álvarez never seemed to mind, always telling her not to worry and that just having Nora around was enough thanks.

Olivia had always thought Mrs. Álvarez had seemed tough, but fair, and she liked that the woman was just as protective of Mia as she was of Nora. But Mia’s belief that her abuela wouldn’t approve of her boyfriend wasn’t exactly the message she wanted to send her sister.

Dropping the subject for the moment, Olivia says, “Well, I didn’t think you’d be home until later, so I guess that means I need to figure out what to feed you.”

Nora helpfully supplies, “I already ordered something for both of us. Should be here soon.”

“From where?”

Her sister gives her a guilty look before admitting, “Bombay Palace.”

“Ugh, Nora, not again,” Olivia says with a light groan. “That’s the fourth time this month.”

“Yeah, because it’s really good,” her sister insists.

“Yes, it is. And so is Thai. Or Chinese. Or Pizza. Or literally anything else.”

“Well, if you were here when I ordered, you’d have gotten a vote too.”

“Since I’m financing the ordering, I always get a vote.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s how it works,” her sister replies with a faux seriousness.

Olivia shakes her head with a laugh, “What am I going to do with you?”

“Hopefully pay for the twenty-five dollars’ worth of samosas and tandoori chicken that I ordered.”

Still smiling, she answers, “I’m going to shower. There’s cash in my wallet, and don’t forget to tip.”

Standing under the spray of water, Olivia’s mind runs through the events of the day. She thinks of Seth Langdon and his father’s callous demeanor, unable to accept who his son really was. The idea that a parent could reject their child, for any reason, let alone because of who they loved, just didn’t make sense to her. She understood the why of it but not the how. How could you spend your child’s entire life loving them and then just throw them away? How could you make them feel like who they are is wrong or that they were anything less than cherished?

It’s not lost on her that Serena had repeatedly failed to do any those things for her daughters. She doubts that Serena would have cared one way or the other who she was attracted to, but her mother had never been able to accept Olivia for who she was—for being her father’s child. And she certainly had never made sure that she and Nora were cherished. She has always been grateful that her mother was able to accept that Nora belonged with her—and that they were able to salvage at least some kind of relationship—but some part of her also wonders how Serena could have given up so easily. How she could have let them go without a fight.

Nora’s knock pulls her from her thoughts.

“Livie—food’s here,” her sister calls through the door.

“I’ll be right out,” she calls back.

She towels off quickly and throws on an old t-shirt and pajama bottoms before joining Nora in the living room. Her sister has already doled out portions for each of them, and she’s now munching on what appears to be a particularly crispy samosa. Olivia joins her on the couch, grabbing a portion of the tandoori chicken and a napkin.

“You want to watch something?” Nora asks.

“Let’s just talk—I feel like I haven’t really seen you for a few days.”

“Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me about this boy that Mia’s been seeing.”

“Logan? I’ve only met him once. He’s on Tech’s Science Olympiad team. We competed against them a few months ago, and I think he gave her his number then. But she hasn’t really told me much else about him.”

“You knew she was dating him?”

“Yes,” she says tensely. “But it’s not like I was covering for them or anything.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Olivia assures, which melts her sister’s defensiveness. “Why was she dating him in secret?”

“I think she thought abuela wouldn’t approve. And she was very right about that.”

“Maybe her grandmother was just mad that Mia has been lying.”

“That was definitely part of it, but she also basically said that if Mia was hiding their relationship that there must be something wrong with him.”

She and Nora had the talk, and more than one at that. They’d extensively covered almost everything from the basics to consent and bodily autonomy and that Nora could always say no. In all the talks though, she realizes she hadn’t really covered the who as clearly as she could have.

“Is that something you’re thinking about?” Olivia asks with what she hopes is nonchalance.

“What? Dating someone abuela wouldn’t approve of?” her sister sasses.

“No,” she replies with light reproach. “I mean dating in general.”

Nora shrugs, “I don’t know. I guess maybe a little.”

“Because you can talk to me if you are,” Olivia rushes. “And you can talk to me if you’re thinking about anyone in particular.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says slowly, slightly confused at her sister’s suddenly odd tone.

“It’s okay if you’re interested in a guy.”

“Okay.”

“Are you?” she asks, trying not to sound overly interested. “Interested in anyone?”

“Nobody in particular.”

“That’s okay,” she says a little too quickly.

“Yeah, I kinda figured that would be your preference,” her sister smirks.

“I just mean, it’s okay if you’re interested, and it’s okay if you’re not.”

Nora stares, brow slightly furrowed with a questioning look. “What’s happening right now?”

“What do you mean?” Olivia asks innocently.

“You’re being very weird.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, this conversation feels super normal. Look, you’re obviously trying to get at something, so why don’t we just skip ahead to the part where you say whatever it is.”

“It’s just important to me for you to know that, if you like boys, that’s okay. If, if you like someone else, that’s okay too. Who you’re attracted to, that’s not a choice.”

“Obviously. If it was, who would choose to be attracted to men?”

“Nora, I’m trying to be serious,” she sighs with exasperation, rubbing the space between her eyes. “I just want you to know that whoever you’re attracted to, that’s…you don’t ever have to worry that I have a problem with it, and I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to hide it from me.”

“Are you very awkwardly trying to say you’re okay with it if I’m gay?”

“Well, I’m not trying to be awkward.”

“Oh, you don’t have to try. I have no doubt your awkwardness comes naturally.”

Olivia just shakes her head, holding back a laugh. “You’re incorrigible. You know that?”

“You raised me. You’ve really got no one to blame but yourself,” she smirks back. “So, you going to tell me exactly what spurred on the need for you to voice your fervent support for my sexuality?”

“Partly the whole Mia thing. I don’t ever want you to feel like I wouldn’t approve of whoever you’re interested in.” She pauses before admitting, “And something came up at work. It made me realize that in all our talks, I had sort of assumed you would be interested in boys. So, I wanted to make sure you knew that I support you no matter what.”

“Well, I kind of already knew that. And despite your very smooth delivery, I get what you’re saying, and I appreciate it.”

Olivia gives her a half-hearted glare. “It’s a good thing I love you.”

“Don’t I know it,” her sweet girl grins back.

Chapter Text

She wakes up to the smell of pancakes and bacon. The aroma’s already wafting through her closed bedroom door, so Olivia knows that the breakfast her sister is undoubtedly preparing is likely almost done. A quick glance at the clock tells her it’s just past ten. She’d gotten in late the night before, after a particularly long end to a particularly long week, and she’s eternally grateful that Nora has both let her sleep in and taken care of the most important meal of the day.

When she enters the kitchen, still in her pajamas, Nora’s putting bacon on two plates, each already stacked high with pancakes.

Her sister looks up and smiles. “Hey—I was just about to wake you. You hungry?”

“Starving. I was so tired when I got in that I fell asleep before I could eat.”

“Well, take a seat and eat up. Syrup’s already out—you want butter too?”

“I’m good with just syrup.”

Nora nods and takes the stool opposite her, digging into her own pancakes with gusto.

“So, um, I got some pretty cool news,” her sister says between bites.

“Oh, yeah?” Olivia replies, interest peaked.

“There’s this program at Columbia—it’s called Brainyac. It’s an apprenticeship for high school students through the Zuckerman Institute—that’s their neuroscience research program. My AP Bio teacher knows the guy who runs it, and he said I should apply. He wrote me this really nice recommendation. And I found out yesterday that…I got in.”

“Wow,” she answers, slightly stunned. “That’s…that sounds amazing.”

And like it’s the first I’m hearing about it, she thinks.

Reading her mind, Nora rushes, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when I applied. I just didn’t think I’d ever actually be accepted. It’s really competitive, and most of the kids they take are juniors. I didn’t want you to be disappointed when I got rejected.”

“Why would you think I’d be disappointed?”

“I don’t know,” her sister says, seeming uncomfortable. “I just wanted it to be a sure thing. It’s probably just me being anxious. I’m sorry—I should have told you.”

Shoving the sting of her sister’s omission aside, Olivia musters her enthusiasm, “Well, I want to hear everything about it.”

“Livie, it’s so cool,” Nora rushes, her nervousness replaced with obvious excitement. “It’s seven weeks. I get to design my own research project, and I’ll get matched with a neuroscientist at the institute, and then they’ll be my mentor through the project. And if the project goes well, I can apply for a fellowship, and then I’d get to keep the project going through the school year. There’s also a bunch of networking events, so I’ll get to meet other researchers and stuff.”

“That sounds incredible. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” her sister replies with a shy but pleased smile. “I’m pretty excited about it. It’s a great opportunity all around because I’ll do lab work and get research experience, but I’ll be able to focus on neuro specifically. I probably won’t get to do that in school, so this might be my only chance to get direct experience.”

“Neuroscience—I didn’t realize that was something you were interested in.”

“It’s a little new,” her sister admits bashfully. “I’m pretty sure I want to study some area of science in college, and I’ve been talking a lot with my AP teacher about different ways I could go. He’s been suggesting some different articles outside our curriculum to help me figure out what I might be interested in focusing on, and we had a great conversation about this one paper he recommended on clinical research into brain development. That’s why he suggested the Columbia program. He thought it would be a good chance for me to really see if that’s what I’m interested in. But, I kind of already think it is.”

“You want to be an actual brain scientist? I don’t know where you get your smarts, sweet girl.”

Nora playfully rolls her eyes but is obviously delighted by the praise.

Olivia picks at her pancakes, trying to figure out how to raise the topic that she’s been avoiding for almost a week but that, in light of Nora’s announcement, can’t be put off any longer.

Best to rip off the Band-Aid, she thinks.

“Well, that means a big chunk of your summer’s going to be accounted for. We’ll have to give the dates to mom—she was talking about you two going on a little trip during your two weeks with her.”

Nora immediately stiffens at the mention of Serena, coolly asking, “When did she say that?”

“She called me a few days ago,” Olivia answers, hoping that seven can still qualify as a few.

A scowl appears on Nora’s face as she stabs a bite of pancake. “Why didn’t she ask me? Doesn’t my opinion matter?”

“Of course it does,” she soothes. “She was just checking to see if I thought it was a good idea to bring up with you.”

Her sister’s grip on her fork tightens along with her jaw. “You mean she thought you could convince me to go?”

Her sweet girl isn’t exactly wrong about that. Things have been rocky between her mother and Nora for months. Her sister hasn’t been over for her weekend visit with Serena since the start of the school year, and it took quite a bit of convincing on Olivia’s part to get Nora to agree to at least a monthly dinner, just the three of them. When Serena had called about her summer plan, she sounded hesitant, said that it might be better coming from Olivia. It seems more like her mother wanted to avoid the backlash she’s currently receiving.  

Trying again, she says gently, “She just wants to do something special for you.”

“You know, you don’t always have to be her translator. If she wants to ask me something, then she should just ask. I’m sick of her trying to use you as a go between.”

There she goes again, nailing it in one, Olivia thinks.

“She was trying to be considerate. She wanted to make sure I didn’t have plans with you and to see what weeks might work.”

“Well, isn’t she just the best?” Nora sneers.

“You haven’t seen her much in the last year, and she’s really tried to respect your wishes about that. She hasn’t pushed about you not going over there on the weekends, but she misses you.”

“That’s too bad. Because I don’t miss her.”

“Nora, I know you’re angry with her,” Olivia sighs in frustration. “But I think it might be good for you to have a few nice days together. I’d really like it if you would think about going.” 

“No thanks.”

“Why not?” 

“Because I don’t want to see her,” her sister snaps, dropping her fork on the plate and shoving it away. “And it doesn’t matter anyway. My program’s going to take up almost the whole summer, so I really can’t do anything else.”

“Not even a couple days? Or just a weekend?”

“Look, I agreed to do the monthly dinner thing with you, but I don’t want to see her outside of that. And I definitely don’t want to be alone with her for days at a time.”

“What does that mean?” Olivia replies, alarm bells ringing.

“It’s just awkward. She doesn’t really know me.”

“You’re not exactly making that easy.”

“I don’t think it’s my job to make it easy. I don’t owe her anything. I’ll keep going to the dinners because I know it’s important to you, but I don’t want to be alone with her.  I can’t be around her when—”

The girl abruptly goes quiet. “Nora, did something happen the last time you went over there?”

“Not like you’re thinking.”

“Was she drunk?”

“She wasn’t violent or anything. She didn’t hurt me. Not physically at least. She was, I don’t know, sort of…melancholy? She kept talking about how much she’s missed and how much she cares about me. And, she said some other stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Does it matter?”

“It certainly seems like it does. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have hidden it from me.”

“She said stuff about you, okay?” her sister blurts out. “About…about how I was supposed to be her second chance and that she’s sorry for not doing better with me. And that—"

Nora’s jaw snaps closed again, trapping the words in her mouth. Her eyes widen slightly, like she knows she’s treading into territory she shouldn’t be.

“My love, please just tell me,” Olivia begs.

“She said that when she looks at me, it doesn’t hurt. Because I’m not a reminder of what happened to her.”

It’s like being doused in ice water. It hits fast and shocks the system, sending Olivia’s mind into a frenzy. “Did…did she say…what…”

“What happened to her?” Nora finishes. “No. But I’m not stupid. You told me when I was little that your father hurt her. And you’re a sex crimes detective. It wasn’t exactly hard to piece together the rest.”

Olivia runs a hand through her hair, trying desperately not to panic, “That…that wasn’t how I wanted you to find out. I mean, I always knew you would. But I hoped I could be the one to tell you.”

“Well, it didn’t exactly happen the way I would have wanted either,” her sister says under her breath.

Reaching over to grip Nora’s hand, Olivia says softly, “I’m so sorry, my love. I didn’t want to put that on you any sooner that I had to. But you’re right. I shouldn’t have waited this long.”

Her sister gives her a pensive look, like she’s putting together a puzzle.

“You know, I remember what it was like—when we still lived with her. I could never understand why she seemed to go so much harder on you. I thought she left me alone for the most part because I was the baby or because you were putting yourself in the line of fire to try and protect me.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“But that’s not why you had it worse,” Nora says with a sad, knowing look.

“No, it’s not.”

“Was it always that bad? Before I was born, I mean. Was she always like that with you?” her sister asks, no tension in her voice, just honest curiosity.

“Not all the time,” Olivia answers with resignation. “She was always distant. Like something was holding her back from really being close with me. But things got worse over time. She started drinking more, and I guess she couldn’t hold back as well. And the older I got, the more obvious it was that…I didn’t look like her.”

Her sister almost scoffs. “Just because you don’t look like her doesn’t mean you look like him. That’s not how it works. And even if it was, you and I look so much alike—it wouldn’t make sense that you look like him.”

“I wish it was that simple,” she whispers.

Nora looks at her intently and with dawning realization, “You know it doesn’t matter, right? It doesn’t change how I see you. Who he is and what he did has nothing to do with you. You’re not him. You’re you.”

Olivia’s heart clenches. As always, her sweet girl has managed to see past her defenses to the heart of the matter. Has said the most lovely, assuring thing possible. But as beautiful as those words are, she still struggles to believe them.

“My love, it means so much to hear you say that. You have no idea.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell me before? Because you thought I’d look at you differently or something?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was there somewhere.”

“It really doesn’t change anything—you’re still my Livie.”

Nora says it with such simplicity. Like it’s just a fact. The doubt’s still there, but, at least for the moment, Olivia feels it a little less acutely.

Chapter Text

It’s almost five o’clock on a Friday when Nora walks into the bullpen. She’s coming from some after school science thing that Elliot can’t recall the name of but that Olivia hasn’t stopped bragging about. The youngest Benson looks happy to see her sister, who’s trying to quickly tidy up her desk so the two can depart for an evening of who knows what.

As he watches the two sisters banter, Elliot is relieved to see that, for once, Olivia seems at ease. In recent weeks, his partner has been keeping a closer eye on her little sister and battling to prioritize their time together with a reverent intensity, and he suspects there’s something amiss that she’s just not ready to share with him.

The one thing Olivia has mentioned is that Nora seems to be a little more reclusive of late—spending most of her free time at home and only really going out for school or when prodded by her sister. He hasn’t pushed to know more. Figures that she’ll tell him when she’s ready. But as the weeks drag on, his concern is building in kind, along with his desire to help.

He's looking at them both, watching Olivia pack up her files, and he finds himself spontaneously asking, “Hey, Nora—do you have any plans for tomorrow night?”

Caught off guard by the question, she furrows her brow. “Yeah, why?”

“Nora,” Olivia says drolly. “You do not have plans.”

“Do so,” her sister disputes, slightly offended.

“Sitting in front of the T.V. in your pajamas eating raw cookie dough and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer is not a plan.”

Nora gives her a smug look, “You know, that’s a pretty judgmental tone from someone who joined me in doing just that the last two Saturdays.” The girl turns back to Elliot, “Contrary to what Livie says, I do have plans, but they’re flexible. Why do you ask?”

“Well, Kathy and her sister are taking Maureen, Katie, and Lizzie for the weekend—some kind of girl’s trip thing—so it’ll just be me and Dickie. I figure by tomorrow night we’ll both be climbing the walls a little, so I was wondering if you’d like to be my relief. You know, come over and hang out with him a bit. I’d be there, but if you are too, I might actually get twenty whole minutes to myself while I drive to pick up pizza.”

“Oh, um, I don’t know. I’ve never really babysat,” she answers hesitantly.

“You did great with him when you stayed over with us before. When you got him to take a bath without a fight, I think Kathy wanted you to move in permanently. He’s actually been asking when you’re going to come over again. Plus, there’d be compensation involved—all the pizza you can eat and five whole bucks an hour.”

“You wouldn’t have to do that—I’d feel weird if you paid me.”

“And I’d feel weird if I didn’t—you deserve hazard pay for any amount of time you spend with Dickie.”

“Um, okay, sure. As long as it’s okay with Livie,” she says, turning to her sister.

Elliot kicks himself for not thinking to check with her himself before asking, but he’s relieved when Olivia nods in the affirmative, looking somewhat pleased by the idea. “It’s fine with me. Although I don’t think hanging out with my partner and an elementary schooler is much of a step up as far as Saturday night plans go.”

“I’ll be wearing pants and leaving the house, so it’s absolutely a step up,” she sasses back.

++++++++++

“Nora! Nora! Nora!” Dickie exclaims, bouncing with excitement as his self-proclaimed friend walks through the door Saturday evening. “Daddy said you came to play with me.”

She chuckles as she bends down to his level, “He’s right. I did.”

“And I get to have you all to myself because all the girls are gone,” he says smugly.

“Well, most of them. I’m still a girl.”

“Yeah, but you’re a cool girl.”

“Aw, thanks, Dickie. Should we go up to your room and play?”

“Yeah!” he beams before taking her hand and dragging her up the stairs.

As he tidies the kitchen, Elliot thinks that Kathy might just be right about Nora becoming a permanent part of their home. It’s been a full hour, and he hasn’t heard a peep from upstairs other than occasional laughter and squeals of excitement from his son.

As promised, he places an order with their favorite pizza place before heading up the stairs to let Nora know he’ll be ducking out to pick them up. When he reaches Dickie’s room, he’s greeted by the largest fort he’s ever seen. There are multiple blankets draped over various chairs and furniture, and the thing takes up almost the whole room.

His son sticks his head out of what appears to be the entrance, “Hi, Daddy! Me and Nora are playing knights. We gotta defend our castle from a huge dragon.”

“I can see that,” he smiles.

Nora pokes her head out from under the blanket too, allowing Elliot to say, “I’m just going to run over to get the pizza. You okay here with King Arthur?”

“Daddy, I’m not a king,” Dickie corrects. “I’m a knight.”

Nora laughs, “Yeah, we’re good.”

Elliot nods back with a grin, “I’ll be back in fifteen.”

After they’ve all stuffed themselves with pizza, Nora is again able to exercise her magic and convince Dickie into the bath without a moment of fussing. His boy is more than excited to climb into bed—a rare occurrence—so his friend can read him a story. He’s out less than halfway through the book.

Elliot shares an amused look with Nora before she heads downstairs. He places a kiss on his son’s forehead and turns out the light before following behind her.

The girl’s sitting comfortably on the couch, book in hand, when he joins her in the living room.

“Man, you wore him out. He’s down for the count,” he grins.

“We had a lot of fun,” Nora smiles back.

“Thanks for doing this—it was nice not having to wrangle him for a little while. And you certainly made the bedtime routine easier.”

“No problem. He’s a good kid.”

“So are you.”

“Eh, I try,” she says with shrug and smirk.

“You’re really good with him. The fort thing—he loved that.”

Nora smiles turns wistful, “Livie used to do that for me. When she was in college and before she got out of the academy—when we still lived at home with Serena—it…wasn’t always great. She did a pretty good job of hiding it from me most of the time, but our mother definitely didn’t make that easy. When Serena was having a bad night, Livie would lock the door to our room, and we’d turn the whole thing into this giant fort. We’d be in there for hours. She’d read to me, we’d play games, she’d do these truly awful shadow puppets. But I loved it.”

“Sounds nice.”

“I think it was her way of shielding me from everything. She couldn’t get us out of there completely yet, so she made us our own little world.”

“I’m glad she could do that for you.”

“I needed protecting—that’s what she does,” Nora says matter-of-factly. 

“I think you may have had something to do with making her that way.”

“No way. If I didn’t exist, she’d still be like that,” the girl says with certainty. “Livie’s whole reason for being is to help people.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that.”

“God, when she told me she was going to be a cop, I bragged to anyone who would listen. No one has ever made me feel safe like she does, and I loved that she was going to do that for other people. I was so proud of her—still am.”

“You should be. She’s very good at what she does.”

Nora’s expression slides into something more downcast. “I used to like the idea that she was out there catching the bad guys, but I didn’t really understand when I was little exactly what that meant—that if she was out there with them then…they were out there with her too.”

Elliot suddenly feels like they’re treading into something else. Something more than just wistful reminiscing and reflection. He gets the sense he’s on the edge of a chasm—of something more concerning. Unsure if it’s his place to dig deeper, he opts instead to give simple reassurance.

“Nora, you don’t have to worry about her. I’m not exaggerating when I say she’s a good cop—she’s the best.”

She looks at him with a raised, knowing eyebrow. “Elliot, I’m not naïve. She carries a gun—it’s not for decoration. And even the best cops can get put in the wrong situation.”

“She wouldn’t want you worrying about her like this,” he says, brow pinched in concern.

“I can’t help it. Just like she can’t. And just like you can’t.”

“I’ve got her back—always have, always will. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Nora ducks her head, absently stroking the tail of her bookmark, “You can’t promise that—no one can.”

“Then, I promise I’ll do everything in my power to protect her.”

She looks a little lighter at the prospect. “You swear?”

He says with unwavering confidence, “On my life.”

“I’m glad she has you,” Nora says softly.

“Right back at ya, kid.”

Chapter Text

If asked, Nora Benson would have said she was having a particularly good day. She’d managed to get ahead on an English assignment she’d been dreading, she’d gotten an A on a math test she’d spent weeks studying for, and an especially cute boy in her biology class had said she was the smartest person in the room. Undeniably, a good day.

And then it wasn’t.

She’s leaving her last class, laughing with a friend and still basking in the smartest person in the room comment. When she’s less than two feet out the classroom door, she sees Elliot, and her stomach immediately bottoms out. He’s got an unreadable but certainly not happy expression on his face, and it’s obvious he’s not here to deliver good news.

He puts on a weak smile, says that he’s parked outside, that they can talk more in the car.

Nora feels her heart start racing. Reaching to grip the wall, her breathing quickens, and she’s struggling to suck in air. Elliot must notice immediately because he rushes to brace her by the arm before helping her into an empty classroom, away from the crowded hallway and a hundred students rushing out from a long day. She can hear him trying to calm her, but it doesn’t stop the feeling of being choked—like her airway is suddenly the size of a coffee stirrer.

There’s a building sense of dread in her mind. All the horrible thoughts. All the worrying about Livie. It’s all been building to this. To him telling her that the worst has finally come.

“Is…is she dead?” Nora stumbles through labored breaths.

“No,” he says emphatically and with widened eyes, like he’s horrified he’d ever given that impression. Her breathing doesn’t even out though, and it’s becoming harder and harder to focus on him.

She hears through the fog, “Hey, hey, look at me. Nora—look at me. Your sister’s okay. She’s not hurt. She’s fine. You’re okay. Your Livie’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine. Just try and take slow deep breaths. That’s it. Just listen to my voice—focus on that.”

Your Livie’s okay, she thinks, managing a deep exhale and finally feeling like she’s coming up from being held underwater.

“Y-you’re sure she’s alright?” she asks uncertainly, her heartbeat no longer pounding in her ears.

“Yes,” he assures firmly.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stumbles. “I don’t know why I thought…I just had this horrible feeling when I saw you. I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Elliot says intensely. “I swear on my life she’s okay. And you’re going to see her soon.”

“W-why are you here then?’ she questions. “I mean, if everything’s okay, why did you come?”

“It…she had a bad day,” he starts hesitantly. “She told me she was supposed to pick you up—that you guys were doing something tonight. She didn’t want you to worry when she didn’t show, and she wasn’t sure if you got her page. So she sent me.”

“What happened?”

“We were in a bad situation,” he manages diplomatically.

“What does that mean?” she asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“She had to...,” he trails off, struggling with how exactly to say it without causing her to panic to resurge.

“You can tell me,” the girl says firmly, sounding more even than before. “Whatever it is. I know I freaked for a minute, but I’m okay now.”

Elliot’s always shielded his own children from knowing anything more than the basics about his job. And he had certainly never told them something like this—that he had taken a life or even that he’d been in a position to take one.

But Nora and Olivia are different. They share a closeness that he often envies and an openness he can’t quite comprehend. When Olivia had asked him to retrieve her sister, he, perhaps foolishly, hadn’t considered that Nora would be so bold—so direct—in asking the why. But that’s who she is. Who her sister has raised her to be. Inquisitive, insightful, and, above all else, deeply protective of her Livie.

He feels torn—whether he should lean into Olivia’s tendency toward honesty or follow his own instincts to shield. But the look on this girl’s face—the clear fear that the person she loves most was dead—makes that decision for him.

“She had to use deadly force,” he tries neutrally. “Do you know what that means?”

“She killed someone,” the girl exhales.

“We, um, it was—”

“It’s okay,” Nora cuts off as he stumbles over his words. “If she’s not hurt, then I don’t need to know exactly what happened. She wouldn’t want me to know anything else.” Elliot has never been more grateful not to speak. “Where is she now?”

“She’s talking to some people at the station about what happened. That’s standard after something like this. And then she’ll be on leave for a couple of days.”

“I want to see her,” Nora demands sharply.

“You will. She’ll be a few more hours, so I’m gonna take you home and I’ll wait with you until she gets there.”

“No. If she’s still at the station, that’s where I want to go.”

“Even if we went, you wouldn’t be able to see her right away. It’s better if you’re at home.”

“Elliot, I need to be there. If she had to…if she had to do what you said, then she’s not okay. And I can’t be okay if she’s not okay. So, even if I can’t see her, I need to be where she is.”

She’s not entirely wrong. Olivia may not be physical injured, but she’s nowhere near okay. The woman won’t admit it, but Nora might be the only person who has a chance of changing that. But more importantly, it’s what Nora needs. She needs to see Olivia, to feel close to her, and he knows that, no matter what, his partner would put her sister’s needs first. So, against his better judgment, he gives in.

The drive is silent, neither party knowing what to say to the other. When they park, Elliot gently guides her through the garage to the elevators, encouraging her to sit on a bench just outside the squad room. He leaves her there with a squeeze to the shoulder before heading into the bullpen, hoping to explain to Olivia his possibly misguided decision to ignore her wishes and bring her sister into this before she figures it out herself.

He spots her in the interview room, talking to a suit he doesn’t recognize. It’s another thirty minutes before they’re done, and he feels every minute of that half hour.

She looks drained when she walks out, like she might just collapse right then and there. But when she sees him watching, her fatigue is replaced with undeniable anger.

“What are you doing here?” she grits. “You said you’d get Nora.”

“And I did. She’s in the hallway.”

“You brought her here?” she replies, incredulous. “I told you to take her home.”

“I tried, but she had other ideas.”

“She’s fifteen. She’s not in charge.”

“She wanted to be here.”

“I don’t care. She’s not your kid. If I ever did that to you—disrespected you as a parent like that—you’d have no problem telling me to go to—”

He cuts her off, restraint breaking. “What was I supposed to do? She asked me if you were dead.”

Olivia looks like he’s just slapped her across the face. “She what?”

Elliot deflates, sighing and regretful that he’d so easily matched her tone. “When she saw me, she had a panic attack. And I don’t mean that figuratively. I was trying to calm her down, and then, she asked me if you were dead. She thought that’s why I was there. I told her you were okay, but she begged me to come—she had to see for herself. So, yeah, I made a judgment call. It might not have been the right one, but it was what she needed. And I knew that would matter to you more than anything.”

“How bad was it? The panic attack?”

“It was like she couldn’t breathe. I got her back down, but for a minute it was like she couldn’t hear me.”

Olivia looks like she’s about to cry, as she softly shakes her head and mumbles, “She doesn’t need this.”

He suddenly realizes, “She’s had them before.”

His partner bites her bottom lip, like she’s debating whether to explain further, but she eventually says on an exhale, “She had one when she was little—when I was fighting for custody. But they started again after everything with White. She’s had four since then—I guess five now. She’s always been a little anxious. But it’s getting worse. I got her started with a therapist about a month ago, but that’s obviously not enough.”

She pauses, looking up at Elliot with a mixture of sadness and disbelief, “She really asked you if I was dead?”

He gives her a sympathetic look that she knows means yes.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I’m sorry I snapped.”

“Forget it. You were probably right. I’d be pissed as hell at you for doing the same,” he says with a sad, half-smile.

“I didn’t even think about it when I asked you to get her. I should have told you what to do if it happened,” she says, clearly kicking herself. "I never said anything before because I didn’t want her to feel like I was talking about her to everyone. Or maybe I’m just in denial about how bad it is.”

“You’re not in denial. You got her help. And if it’s not working, you’ll figure out something that will,” he says with a certainty she doesn’t share. “I only wish you would have talked to me earlier. Because I know you probably think this is somehow your fault, and I don’t like to miss out on opportunities to tell you you’re wrong.” For his attempt to lighten the mood, she returns a weak, half smile. “Look, she’s in the hall—go see her, hug her, take her home, spend some time with her over the next few days. You both need that. You can worry about everything else later.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “Okay.”

“She’ll be okay," he says. "And you will too."

Chapter Text

Olivia enters the hallway, and Nora rushes to hug her before she can blink. It’s tight and warm and reminds her of the kinds of hugs her baby sister would dole out when she was little. She doesn’t let go until Nora does, so they stand there, clutching at each other, for more than a few minutes.

When they finally pull apart, Olivia brushes her thumb across her sister’s cheek, “Let’s get out of here, okay? We’ll go pick up something to eat, and then we’ll go home and watch Buffy.”

Nora chuckles, “You know you love doing that as much as I do.”

“I love being with you—I wouldn’t care what we watched. But, yes, I do.”

Nora smiles and goes in for another hug, Olivia stroking her hair for the duration.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” the girl mumbles into her chest.

“Me too, my love. Me too.”

++++++++++

Just over an hour later, the sisters are curled up together on the sofa, greasy slices of pizza in hand watching Buffy slaying like a boss. Olivia’s only half-tuned in, hoping that Nora isn’t noticing the concerned side glances she’s giving her.

When the credits roll, she looks over at her sister, asking with what she hopes sounds like a light tone, “You want to watch another one?”

Nora says nothing, just stares at the screen where the words Executive Producer, Joss Whedon are paused.

“You’ve been looking at me weird,” she says, still not meeting Olivia’s eyes. “Elliot told you, didn’t he?”

There’s no need for Nora to expand on what exactly Elliot had told her.

“He did,” Olivia confirms.

“He shouldn’t have said anything,” Nora says with quiet dismay. “You didn’t need that today on top of everything else.”

“Of course he should have,” she replies adamantly. “He told me what you asked. Is that why you’ve been so withdrawn lately? You’re worried that something’s going to happen to me?”

“I just don’t want to make things harder for you.”

“My love, I don’t know how many times we need to go over this, but you can’t keep things from me just because you think it might be hard for me to hear. It’s not your job to protect me.”

“What if I want to? I can’t protect you from getting hurt or killed. Can’t I at least make sure that you worry a little less?”

“It makes me worry more when I find out that you’ve been carrying things like this alone.”

“You don’t need to be distracted,” the girl counters.

“And you don’t need to be so worried. I’m not going to tell you that there’s no risk in my job. But days like today aren’t the norm. It’s the first time I’ve ever had to actually fire my weapon, and I’ve been doing this a while.”

“But it’s not the first time you’ve had to draw it. And it’s not the first time someone’s pointed a gun at you.”

“No, it’s not,” she admits on an exhale.

“I don’t know exactly what happened today, but I know what it means that it did. You either thought you were going to die or that Elliot was or that someone else around you was. Even if the person you killed wasn’t aiming for you, you were still in the room. How am I supposed to not worry about that?”

Olivia’s at a loss for words. She’s used to dealing with victim’s fears—that their attacker will come back, that something’s linger in the darkness, that they’re not strong enough to testify. But this feels different. She’s a layer removed with victims. This is her baby, and this sweet girl is soaking herself in fears. Fears that have a legitimate basis.

“You know you matter more to me than any job.”

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you about any of this,” Nora says with self-condemnation. “I know if it came down to it—if you thought your job was hurting me—you would pick me. But just because I matter more doesn’t mean that your job means nothing. You worked so hard get where you are. And you love it. It’s what you’re supposed to be doing. I can’t be the reason you lose that.”

“Okay, I can understand that,” she tries. “But if you don’t want me to give it up, then you have to let me in. You have to be honest about what’s going on with you—how you’re feeling. We can deal with this, but we have to do it as a team.”

Nora gives her an apologetic look, nodding in agreement.

“Good,” Olivia nods, concluding the conversation. “Now, if we’re going keep watching Buffy take on the vampire population of Sunnydale, we’re going to need popcorn and drink refills.”

“Yeah,” her sister says with a soft smile. “That sounds good.”

++++++++++

Two hours and two and a half episodes later, Nora’s eyes are growing heavy.

Olivia gives the girl’s arm a gentle rub, “Sweet girl, why don’t we call it a night?”

“No, I’m awake,” Nora answers, trying to shake off her fatigue.

“Well, I’m about to pass out.”

“Oh,” the girls pales. “Okay. Yeah, we can be done.”

Her sister looks tense, like the suggestion of turning in is terrifying.

Olivia implores, “Tell me what’s wrong?”

Nora’s hesitant, but, remembering their earlier agreement, manages with downcast eyes, “I’ve been having nightmares. Not every night. But at least a few times a week. Ever since the panic attacks started up again.”

“Okay,” she exhales, pushing down her frustration at learning yet another thing Nora’s kept from her. “And you’re worried you’re going to have one tonight?”

She receives a sharp nod in confirmation.

“What can I do to help?” she asks, at a loss for how exactly to do that.

With slight embarrassment, Nora asks, “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Her sister looks so young in that moment, so afraid of rejection. But Olivia is filled with relief. The request is something tangible and easily given. It’s an unequivocal yes.

Chapter Text

“What was that all about?” Elliot asks as he starts the car and pulls out of the lot toward their next interview.

From the passenger seat, Olivia gives him a questioning look, so he adds, “Back there. Asking him why he left SVU.”

“Nothing. Just curious,” she dismisses.

“You thinking about leaving?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know,” she sighs.

Reading her mind, he says gently, “You don’t know that leaving would help her. She could be just as anxious if you had a regular nine to five.”

“It certainly wouldn’t hurt to take guns out of the equation,” she answers numbly. “I’m not seriously considering it. It’s just been on my mind since she brought it up.”

“Nora asked you to quit?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“The opposite. She’s been hiding all this stuff from me because she’s afraid that I will. That I’ll give up something I love to protect her.”

“Now that sounds more like Nora. What’d you say to her?”

“That I wouldn’t leave if she was more honest with me. That we had to deal with this as a team.”

“Did she agree?”

“Yeah. I’m just worried it won’t be enough.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t worried. She talking to her therapist about all this?”

“Twice a week for the foreseeable future,” Olivia confirms. “I actually met with her the other day—her therapist. It felt like I was being called to the principal’s office.”

“What’d she want to talk to you about?”

“Things I can do to help Nora with her anxiety and with the panic attacks.”

“By the look on your face, I’m guessing you’re not thrilled with whatever it is?”

“I’m supposed to help her feel at peace with the idea of something happening to me.”

“And you’re sure this is a licensed shrink?” he retorts with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yes,” she says pointedly. “She said that death is inevitable, and Nora feels out of control knowing that she can’t do anything to stop that. Since I can’t guarantee that something won’t happen to me, especially in this job, I need to make her feel like it won’t be the end of the world if…if I die.”

“You’re really sure this woman is licensed?”

Olivia glares at him. “It makes sense, when you think about it.”

He looks more than skeptical, “There is no world where you can prepare Nora to not be devastated by your death.”

“It’s not about that. It’s about making her feel like if it did happen, she would survive it. That she would be safe, and she wouldn’t be alone. That’s apparently a big part of this. Since it’s always just been us, she feels like she’ll be all by herself if something happens to me.”

“Did this allegedly licensed therapist have any suggestions on how exactly to do that?”

“I’m supposed to get her to stop “what-if-ing” everything bad that could happen and get her to focus on the present. Like the fact that I’m here and that we should make the most of our time together now.”

“That’s not the worst advice I’ve ever heard.”

“We’re also supposed to talk more about death.”

“Now, that might be the worst advice I’ve ever heard. How is letting her think about all this more going to help?”

“It’s so she can share her fears, and we can talk about them. That way she’s not bottling it all up. She can feel understood.”

With a shake of his head, he replies, “When a kid’s drowning, you pull them out of the water. You don’t shove them under more.”

“I have to try something, don’t I?” she snaps.

He sobers and sends her a clear message of remorse, which she instantly accepts.

“The therapist also thought it might be helpful if I make plan. For what happens if…if I die.  A plan for who would take care of her. She thought it might help if Nora knows exactly where she would go—who she would be with.”

“It can’t be your mother,” he says immediately.

“Legally, it would have to be. She’s the only other known parent. I think she’d probably agree to having it be someone else. The problem is, I don’t have anyone else.”

“I’ll take her,” he says evenly and with no hesitation.

She looks over at him in disbelief, unsure if she’s heard him correctly. “Are…are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he says with an expression like any other answer would be absurd.

“I can’t ask you—”

“Liv,” he cuts off. “She’s your kid. It’s not even a question.”

“What about Kathy? You already have four kids. You really think she’d be okay with adding a fifth?”

“I think she’d say yes even faster than I did. I wasn’t kidding when I told you she said we should adopt her. Nora’s a great kid. She’s smart, kind, funny. My kids love her. Making sure she has a safe place to finish growing up and to come home to would be the least of what I’d be willing to do for her.”

It makes her stomach flip. The way he talks with such conviction. Like Nora matters as much to him as any of his own kids. Like he actually might love her just as much as his own kids.

Part of her still feels resistant—because it’s asking so much. Because it means something about the two of them that she doesn’t want to think too hard about. But a bigger part feels relief. Her sweet girl wouldn’t be alone. She’d have a family, and one that’s filled with love and chaos and certainty.

“You’d have to talk to Kathy,” Olivia rushes. “I’d need you both to be completely sure.”

“Sure. But she’s gonna say yes.”

“And when she does, then…I’ll say yes too.”

He smiles softly, seeming pleased that she’s agreed so quickly, and turns back to the road without another word. While she quickly follows suit, her mind is racing, and she’s bursting to say more. To tell him how much this means to her. To tell him what a relief it is. She’s always had the nagging guilt of not being able to offer Nora more. No siblings. No father. No extended family. It’s overwhelming to think that she might have been wrong. That she might be able to give Nora the more she’d always wished she could.

That she herself might have a more.

That she might have him in some way she hadn’t realized.

But it feels like too much. Too much to reveal. Too much for him to hear. Too close to an ironclad line she can’t bring herself to look at it.

Unbeknownst to her, as they ride in silence, Elliot is thinking much the same. Trying to ignore that same ironclad line. Refusing to consider exactly why he hadn’t hesitated.  But mostly, trying not say that, by agreeing, she’d be helping him just as much as Nora. Because his partner’s sweet girl might be the only other person in the world who could understand exactly what it meant to lose Olivia Benson.

Chapter Text

slayergirl84 - hey

queensgirlie – hey

slayergirl84 – L told me what happened

slayergirl84 – you okay?

queensgirlie – not really sure

queensgirlie – it was hella messed up

slayergirl84 – i bet

queensgirlie – never really seen anything like that

slayergirl84 – sorry it happened

slayergirl84 – no one should have to see that

queensgirlie – weird to think that’s what my dad does every day

slayergirl84 – yeah

slayergirl84 – i always worry about livie being around creeps

slayergirl84 – i try not think too much about what she actually does

queensgirlie – i can’t stop seeing it

queensgirlie – i’ve been having nightmares

queensgirlie – feels like i'm there again

slayergirl84 – that feeling’s the worst

queensgirlie – you get em too?

slayergirl84 – all the time

queensgirlie – what are yours about?

slayergirl84 – livie getting hurt

slayergirl84 – or dying

queensgirlie – jeez, that sucks

slayergirl84 – i get panic attacks about it too

slayergirl84 – just can’t stop worrying I’ll lose her

queensgirlie – i’m sorry

slayergirl84 – i'm sorry too

slayergirl84 – what you’re going through is just as tough

            queensgirlie – this is nice though

queensgirlie – having someone to talk to

queensgirlie – not like i can tell my friends at school

i saw a dead guy on fire

slayergirl84 – yeah, not everybody gets it

slayergirl84 – most people’s parents have normal jobs

slayergirl84 – what ours do, definitely not for small talk

queensgirlie – for sure

slayergirl84 – hey – you want to talk IRL

slayergirl84 – you could come over saturday

slayergirl84 – we could hang out, you can sleep over

queensgirlie – that’d be cool

slayergirl84 – great, i'll clear it with L

queensgirlie – cool beans

++++++++++

The conversation with Michael Goren is a bust. The kid won’t admit what Elliot knows Andrew Croft, aka George Kaczynski, did to him. That he was used and abused by the creep. It’s certainly not the first time he's seen a victim in denial, but this one hits harder.

“Thanks for the heads up,” the boy’s defense attorney says with a smirk. “I think I've got the EED defense.”

“Not unless your client changes his tune,” Elliot says under his breath before he falls into step with Olivia, heading toward the exit.

“Are we working for the defense now?”

Ignoring her jab, he speculates, “Yeah. You don't volunteer to do hard time because you're embarrassed. This kid is hiding something.”

She follows his lead, nodding, “Okay, maybe an accomplice?”

“Maybe somebody who scares him more than Andrew.”

Their back and forth continues as they leave, getting in the sedan and heading back toward the precinct.

“Any thoughts on who Michael might be scared of?” Olivia asks.

“Not a single one.”

“Seems likely it’s someone who Andrew pissed off. You don’t do something like this if it’s not personal.”

“It’s not like he didn’t deserve it,” he mutters.

This case has obviously hit her partner hard. He’s always passionate—wanting to punish the guilty. But this is more than that. It’s personal. And she’s fairly certain she knows why.

Hoping to relieve the building tension, she asks, “Are we going to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” he answers stiffly.

“What this is really about,” she answers pointedly. “If it had been me, and Nora saw what Maureen did, I’d be beating myself up. And I know you well enough to know you’re probably doing the same. And I also know that’s part of why this kid is getting under your skin so much.”

Elliot’s jaw tightens, “I told her to wait in the car. She just couldn’t listen.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“When she saw him, she started crying. Like she was a little kid again. Kathy’s tried talking to her about it, but she basically shut down. I’m supposed to protect her. And I failed.”

“Elliot, you are a great father,” she says emphatically. “The world can be…a messed up place. And no matter how much we try, we can’t protect them from that forever.”

“So I’m just supposed to be okay with her seeing what she did?” he snaps.

“Of course not,” she counters. “But you can’t change the fact that she has. You can only be there for her now.”

He deflates. “I just wish she’d talk to me. Or Kathy. Or anyone. She needs to have someone.”

“I’m not sure if she told you, but she’s been talking to Nora.”

That’s definitely not something that she’s told him.

He answers with surprise, “Yeah? About all this?”

“Nora hasn’t given me specifics, but I’m pretty sure it’s come up.”

“Is that good or bad?” he questions, brow furrowed. “Them talking about this kind of thing with each other?”

“It’s normal for kids to talk to their friends. And they’ve both been dealing with some…not so normal things. I’m guessing it feels easier to talk to someone who gets that.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sighs. “How long have they been talking? I didn’t realize they were friends.”

“I think since she stayed with you last year.”

“They talk on the phone?”

“It seems more like an AIM based friendship, but Nora mentioned this morning that she invited Maureen to spend the night this weekend. I was actually going to run it by Kathy.”

“You can’t run it by me?” he answers, slightly offended.

“I’m running it by you right now,” she says pointedly. “But I wanted to check with Kathy too. You know, mom to…Livie.”

“Mom to Livie?” he retorts, slightly amused.

“Well, that’s what I am,” she smirks.

He says with a gentle voice and glance that makes her heart feel like it’s being squeezed, “You’re not just Livie.”

From the beginning, Elliot accepted that Nora is both her sister and her child. He’s never made her feel like she is anything less than Nora’s true parent. But he’s stumbled upon a vulnerability she hadn’t even realized was there. Like her walls just don’t exist for him. She knows that Nora is hers. She’s her Livie. She’s her parent. But she’s never allowed herself to think beyond that.

To be mom.

“Being Livie is enough,” she says with a sad smile. “It’s more than I ever thought I’d have.”

++++++++++

When Saturday rolls around, Maureen and Nora opt for a lazy night in. It’s only nine, but they’re both in their pajamas sprawled out in front of the T.V. watching Julia Styles read her tearful poem to Heath Ledger.

“I love this movie,” Maureen says wistfully. “They’re just so perfect for each other.”

“Did you know it’s based on a Shakespeare play?”

“Seriously?”

“Mmhmm. The Taming of the Shrew. I read it in Freshman Comp.”

Maureen chuckles, “How do you know stuff like that?”

“I like to read,” Nora shrugs. “It’s a nice escape.”

“From the anxiety stuff?”

“Yeah, but even before that. From as early as I can remember it’s been like that. I think it was the same way for Livie when she was a kid, so she tried to give me that too.”

“It’s cool you guys are so close,” the blonde observes. “Has it always just been the two of you?”

“Pretty much.”

“How did it happen?” she asks with innocent curiosity. “You guys living to together like this?”

“When I was born, we lived with our mother. Livie moved out when she graduated from the academy, and I eventually went with her.”

“Your mom was okay with that?” Maureen asks, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, definitely not,” Nora snorts.  “It was a huge fight—months in court. But Livie kept pushing. For a lot of reasons, but a big part of it was that it was safer for me to be with her. In the end, our mother sort of just gave up.”

“It was safer for you? You mean like your mom hurt you?” Realizing she may have overstepped, she rushes, “I’m sorry. That’s…I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“No, um, it’s okay,” Nora answers sincerely. “Short answer—yeah, she hurt me. She’s an alcoholic, and it just wasn’t a good situation. It wasn’t so bad before Livie left. She kept me away from a lot of it. But when she moved out, I couldn’t really be alone with our mother anymore. Now, I don’t really have much contact with her. We see her sometimes for dinner or something, but she’s not really around.”

“That’s tough. That your mom isn’t there for you.”

“Honestly? I don’t really feel like I’m missing out on anything by not having her in my life. Livie’s the one who’s always taken care of me, even before the whole court thing. And I’ve never really felt like I needed anyone else.”

“So, it’s kind of like Olivia’s your sister and mom rolled into one?”

“Yeah,” Nora nods, liking the analogy. “She does all the normal mom stuff, but she’s also my best friend.”

“I can’t imagine being best friends with my mom,” the blonde answers with fascination. “How old was Olivia when you were born?”

“Almost sixteen.”

“My parents had me when they were teenagers too. It’s weird to think that they were only a few years older than we are, and they were parents already.”

“It’s good your mom and dad had each other. And now they have this great family.”

“Yeah, they’re mostly okay. Annoying sometimes, but I love them,” she says with a grin and an eye roll. “It’s nice that you and your sister have each other too. Olivia seems pretty cool. It’s actually kind of hard to believe she’s friends with my dad.”

Nora chuckles, “Your dad’s not so bad.”

“He’s overprotective. And he’s all about the rules. Always on me about something.”

“Livie can be that way too sometimes.”

“But you still have so much freedom. You get to do all this stuff on your own without her hovering over your every move.”

“Yeah, but that’s mostly because Livie has to work. I don’t mind being on my own, but it usually means we don’t get to spend as much time together as we both want.”

Maureen asks hesitantly, “Does…does it ever bother you? That she has to work so much?”

Nora answers softly, “I miss her. But I get why she does it.”

“I don’t. I don’t get why they do it. What I saw, it was…awful. You see dark stuff like that on T.V., but it’s just different in real life. I don’t know how my dad and Olivia look at things like that all day.”

“I don’t think it’s always easy for them either, definitely not for Livie.”

“She actually talks to you about work? My dad never talks about his job.”

“She doesn’t give me a ton of details or anything. But she tells me when she’s had a hard day. And even when she doesn’t, I can kind of tell. She wants to hang out with me more, or she’ll want to do something special,” Nora says. “Have you talked to your dad about any of that stuff? Or about what you saw?”

“Not really. He knows I’ve had nightmares about it, but it’s just awkward to really get into more.”

“Maybe it would help,” Nora encourages. “He probably understands better than anyone what you’re feeling.”

“Yeah, maybe I should,” Maureen agrees, looking down at her hands.

Sensing the shift, Nora asks with a grin, “Want to watch another movie? I’ve got She’s All That.”

“Is that one based off Shakespearean play too?” her friend laughs.

“Close—Pygmalion. That’s the play that My Fair Lady’s based on.”

“God, you seriously know everything,” Maureen laughs.  

++++++++++

“Did you guys have fun?” Elliot asks, looking over at Maureen as they head home.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “It was actually really nice. We watched a bunch of movies. And it was…it was good, talking to Nora.”

“Oh, yeah?” he replies, trying not to sound overly interested in the hopes that she’ll continue.

“We, um, we actually talked about what happened. What I saw,” she says softly. “It feels hard to bring up with you, but she said I should. That it might help if we talked.”

“Mo, you can always talk to me.”

“Seeing that—it was horrible.” She looks over at him before asking, “You see stuff like that every day, don’t you?”

It feels like the wind’s been knocking out of him. “Not exactly like that,” he answers reluctantly. “But a lot of hard stuff.”

“Why do you do it?” she asks with deep interest.

“I want to help people. I want them to have justice.”

“But couldn’t you do that somewhere else too?”

“I probably could. But what I do, it…it means something more to me.”

Maureen can’t ever remember her father being more honest—so open. Even with so few words, it feels like he’s revealed something important. She wants to ask more, but, for now, this feels like enough.

“Okay,” she accepts. “You know you can talk to me too. Not about exactly what you do. But Nora says that Olivia tells her when she’s had a bad day, and then they spend extra time together. We…we could do that too.”

He warmly answers, “I like the part where I’d get to spend more time with you. You’re growing up so fast.”

“Dad,” the girl groans, still looking slightly pleased.

“Give your old man a break. You’re my baby girl. No matter how old you are.”

“You’re so cheesy,” she says with a shake of her head and an eye roll.

“That’s a dad’s prerogative,” he smiles back. “Hey, how ‘bout we do something special right now?”

“Really?”  

“I’m thinking ice cream at Eddie’s?”

“Double scoop?” she says hopefully.

“For you, I’ll splurge for the triple scoop.”

“Dad,” his girl says shyly, but practically beaming. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Mo. More than you’ll ever know.”

As he makes his way towards their destination, Elliot thinks he just might owe Nora Benson a triple scoop of her own.

Chapter Text

Your mother had an accident.

That’s what Cragen had called it. An accident. Like her mother had been hit by a car. Like it was just something that happened and not an event thirty years in the making.

She didn’t make it.

She asked how and then questioned his explanation. But she knew before the words were out of his mouth.

She was drunk.

He tells her to go be with Nora. To take as much time as she needs. So she does. She leaves his office, moves mindlessly out of the precinct, and heads home to tell her sweet girl that the woman who brought them both together is no longer in this world. That there will never be a mended relationship with her for either of them. That they’ll never have real closure.

Nora says nothing at first. Her face is blank. But when she sees Olivia’s tears, how she’s struggled to get the words out, she snuggles into her side—says I love you so many times that Olivia loses count.

At the funeral, Nora stands next to her. She holds her hand and leans into her shoulder as a stream of Serena’s colleagues and former students offer their condolences, talking about how wonderful of a teacher their mother was and painting an image of a woman that neither of them had ever known.

Her sweet girl’s presence makes her feel something other than numb. Helps her feel grounded. Allows her grief to pour out. But Nora doesn’t join her. She doesn’t cry. Doesn’t talk about Serena unless Olivia does. To an outsider, it would seem like nothing’s happened. Like Nora is entirely unaffected.

At first, Olivia lets her be. Thinks that it’s the shock or that Nora’s just trying to be strong for her. She waits for her sister’s pain to come, but when it doesn’t, she pushes. Tells Nora she needs to talk about it—needs to let it out. That they can process things together.

But that only makes Nora retreat into herself. Leaving Olivia feeling like her sister is slipping away.

After a week, they’re both forced back into their old routine. Olivia returns to work. Nora goes back to school. But the worry is still there. That this will trigger Nora’s anxiety when she least expects it or that it will linger like a festering wound if it’s not tended to.

By week three, her attempts to coax Nora to talk cause the girl to go from empathetic and supportive to hostile and resentful.

So Olivia backs off and tries a new, less direct tactic. Also known as hovering.

++++++++++

“I’ll just be a few more minutes,” Olivia says gently as Nora makes her way into the bullpen, a blatant look of disdain on the girl’s face. “Then we can get out of here.”

Nora’s only acknowledgment is pulling out a book and plopping down in the chair by Olivia’s desk.

“Why don’t we get takeout tonight?” she offers. “You can pick the place.”

“Sure,” her sister answers flatly without looking up from her book.

“What about Bombay Palace?” she presses. “That’s your favorite.”

“Fine.”

“Or we can do something else if that doesn’t sound good.”

“I said it was fine,” her sister grits, shooting her an annoyed glare.

“Okay,” Olivia says, trying to placate her. “You know, I’ve been thinking—I’m off this weekend. Why don’t we take a little trip or something? Maybe we could go to the beach? The house we usually rent—I could see if we could get it for a couple of days.”

“Can’t. I’ve got a chem test on Monday. I’m staying over at Mia’s so we can study.”

“Oh. Well, maybe I could talk to your teacher. See if they might be willing to let you take it later?”

She looks furious at the suggestion. “I don’t want any extra time or special treatment.”

Exasperated, Olivia sighs, “Nora, I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, I don’t need your help. And I really don’t need you butting in at school. So just stay out of it,” her baby sister snaps before storming out into the hallway.

Across the desk, Elliot, who has kept his eyes firmly on his paperwork up to that point, gives her a sympathetic look.

“I can’t do anything right,” she says with a self-deprecating shake of her head.

“That’s not true.”

“It feels true. Feels like she hates me.”

“She doesn’t.”

“She wasn’t talking, but I couldn’t stop pushing. And I pushed too hard. Now, the sound of me breathing pisses her off,” she replies, rubbing her eyes before running her hand through her hair. “There’s this wall up, and I can’t seem to get through it. I just want her to talk to me, but she’s so…so damn stubborn.”

“Liv,” he says with a gentle, but knowing smile. “She’s you.”

Olivia lets out a harsh laugh. “That bodes well for me.”

“Look, you might not know this, because you’ve been pretty spoiled with Nora, but this is what teenagers do. They brood and push you away and get snippy. You’ve just got to give her some space—ride it out. It won’t be like this forever.”

She looks skeptical but doesn’t argue.

He gives her a soft smile. “Look, why don’t you head out? I can wrap up here.”

“You sure?” she replies with doubtful hope.

“Go on,” he answers with a reassuring nod toward the door.

She heads to grab her bag from the locker room, and, as soon as she’s out of sight, Elliot moves to the hallway where Nora’s sitting on one of the benches, arms crossed and an irritated look on her face.

She barely glances at him as he approaches. “I swear to god, if you ask me if I want to talk or give me a lecture, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“I won’t—I promise.”

Nora’s expression doesn’t change, but she nods to the empty space next her, giving him permission to sit.

They sit in silence for a moment before he starts, “You’re going pretty hard on her.”

“What did I say about lecturing?” she retorts, seeming more annoyed than angry.

“I’m not lecturing,” he insists. “I’m stating a fact.”

Nora glares. “She won’t get off my back.”

“Yeah, because she’s worried about you.”

“Well, she can stop. I’m fine.”

“You ever believe her when she says that?” he asks with a pointed look.

“No,” she mumbles begrudgingly.

“I get that you want her off your case, but you know that’s not going to happen until you talk to her.”

“She won’t understand.”

“She’s grieving your mother too. If anyone understands, it’d be her.”

With pain in her voice, Nora answers, “That’s what she won’t get. I’m not grieving. I don’t feel loss or anger or even relief. I don’t feel anything. But Livie does. She’s…it’s so much for her. She’s hurting. I can’t pile on that.”

“Nor, there’s no right way to deal with loss. Maybe the grief will come later. Maybe it won’t. But no matter what, your sister would want to know what you’re going through.”

Before she can reply, Olivia rounds the corner, heading toward them.

“Ready, love?” she asks, looking suspiciously at the pair.

Nora gives her a yeah and hefts her bag over her shoulder before following her toward the elevator. Olivia’s more than a little irritated that Elliot’s obviously tried to insert himself in this—that he didn’t heed his own advice to give her sister space.

When they’re in the elevator, she almost jumps when Nora mumbles, “I really do have to study this weekend, but…maybe we could do the beach next weekend?”

Olivia’s earlier irritation is immediately replaced with the urge to buy her partner a beer. 

“I’d love that,” she answers, trying not to sound too eager.

“You don’t have to work?” Nora asks hesitantly.

“I’ll make sure I don’t.”

After all, if the man can meddle, then he can cover a shift for her too.

Chapter Text

Over the next two weeks, Nora’s still withdrawn. But her words seem to have a little less bite—a little less anger behind them. Olivia has no idea what Elliot said to make that happen, but she decides to just take the reduced hostility as a win.

The drive to the beach is mostly silent, but Nora seems a little lighter once they’re there. She helps unload the car without a fuss. Offers to make them some lunch. Tells her about an upcoming test she’s been worried about as they eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on cheap paper plates. Olivia thinks it’s the most she’s heard her speak since the funeral. 

When they’re finished, Nora asks if they can go for a walk on the beach. Olivia can’t say yes fast enough. Even in late September, there’s a warmth to the ocean air. They walk next to each other, each carrying their shoes, watching the waves crash in. Her sweet girl asks if she remembers their first trip here, the summer after the custody battle. Nora gives a tiny smile as she talks about playing in the sand for the first time, about how happy she’d been. Olivia mostly listens, jumping in only when prompted or to add a small detail to keep the conversation going as they make their way back to the house.

As the sun sets, the warm air is replaced by a cool, light breeze. Her baby sister’s reminiscing continues at they eat dinner together with the back doors open, letting a salty smell waft into the house. Nora asks if they can sit on the back porch swing for a while, so they huddle under a blanket, letting the swing move slightly from the wind alone. When her sister rests her head on Olivia’s shoulder, it feels something close to perfect.

Over the sound of the ocean waves, Nora says quietly, “I’m sorry I’ve been so awful to you lately.”

She feels her breath catch, trying not shift so that Nora will stay steady against her.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” her sister answers shamefully. “I know you’re trying to be there for me. I’ve just always felt so tangled up when it comes to her, and I’ve been taking it out on you.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been pushing so hard, my love. You’ve just been going through so much lately. I want you to be okay, and I felt like things were getting better—like you were talking with me again. It’s hard to see you closing back in on our yourself.”

“I know,” Nora replies quietly. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you. I’m really not trying to shut you out. But I’ve had all these thoughts since it happened, and they’re hard to say. I feel bad for even thinking them. Because I know they’re going to upset you. And that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“There’s nothing you can’t tell me. I’m a big girl. I can handle hearing whatever you need to say.”

Her sister pulls away, turning to look down the shore and away from Olivia. “I’ve been thinking a lot about her—about everything that’s happened over the years. And about the things she said to me the last time I was over with her. I used be so angry with her. And there have even been times…where I’ve hated her. Because it always felt like she didn’t care about us. No matter what though, I always wanted to believe that it wasn’t her fault that she was the way she was. I wanted to believe that she couldn’t love us the right way because she was just a broken person, and what she gave us was all she had to give. But the more I think about it, the more certain I am that wasn’t the problem. I think she just never really loved us.”

“Nora, that’s not true,” she says emphatically, grasping her sweet girl’s hand. “She wasn’t perfect, but she loved us as best she could.”

“I don’t think she did.”

It’s clear her baby sister’s trying desperately not to cry, but she can’t stop her eyes from welling up or her voice from shaking as she continues, “The fact…the fact that she saw how much I love you, how much I wanted to be with you, and she still tried to fight it for so long, even though she knew she couldn’t take care of me, even though she knew how much happier I was with you—you don’t do that to someone you love.”

“She didn’t do that to hurt you. She really thought she was doing the right thing.”

Nora snatches her hand away. “Just stop. Stop trying to defend her. I know you don’t feel the same way I do. I get it. That’s why I didn’t want to talk to you about this in the first place. I don’t need you to convince me that I’m wrong. I need you to accept that we’re just never going to see her the same way.”

“Nora—”

“Whatever you’re going to say—don’t. I know you believe she loved us. But I just…can’t. Because she was horrible to the person I love most. She was so cruel to you—to both of us. But she still couldn’t let us go. She put herself and what she wanted first. Real love isn’t that selfish. I would never tell you that you shouldn’t grieve for her. So I need you to stop acting like it’s wrong that I’m not. I’m not happy she’s dead, but I just can’t be sad that she’s gone either.”

“I’m sorry, my love,” Olivia whispers. “I just never wanted you to think that any of this was your fault or that her being the way she was says anything about you.”

“Funny. That’s exactly what I want for you,” she says with sadness before shifting out from under the blanket and moving to look out at the view from the porch railing.

Olivia just watches her, but she doesn’t turn around. She can hear Nora taking deep breaths, like she’s working up the nerve to say something else.

“Her dying. It…it brought up some other stuff for me. Stuff I’ve been thinking about for a long time. My therapist has been telling me I need to talk to you about it, but I keep chickening out. It just never feels like the right time to say it.” She says nothing, just waits for her sweet girl to continue. “I want you to do something for me. Something big.”

“You can tell me. Whatever it is.”

Nora turns back to her, her voice shaky as she says, “I want you to adopt me.”

Olivia feels her mouth drop open slightly in shock. Whatever she’d been expecting Nora to say, that sure as hell wasn’t anywhere on the list. She’s scrambling to find something to say, but her mind’s racing and there just aren’t any words.

“My love, that’s…I…I…”

Her sister looks crushed and quickly turns away. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Hey, hey,” Olivia soothes, moving to stand next to her by the railing. She strokes the girl’s arm lightly as she continues, “I’m…That’s a big decision to make right now. I know we’re in different places with what it means to lose mom, but—”

Nora snaps her head toward Olivia and says firmly, “Serena wasn’t my mom. She gave birth to me. That’s not the same thing.”

“My love, we should take some time to think about such a big decision.”

“Livie, I don’t need any more time. I’ve wanted this since I was six years old—from the time I found out what adoption even was.”

It's another punch to the gut. Knowing this has been bottled up all this time. 

“Nora,” she exhales. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I knew she would fight it, and I was already with you. It didn’t seem like it was worth the risk of messing that up,” her sister answers. “Look, I’m sorry for bringing it up. Let’s just drop it, okay?”

Olivia absolutely cannot just drop it, but before she can say anything else, Nora pulls away. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m going to bed.”

She disappears quickly through the sliding door and back to her room, as though nothing had happened.

Olivia’s mind is reeling as she collapses back on the porch swing. The idea that Nora’s been wanting this—maybe even dreaming of it—for more than a decade is entirely unexpected. But thinking about it now, she’s not entirely sure why it feels so unexpected. Nora has always felt like hers, and she’s always known her baby sister feels the same. But adoption and what that means—that Nora wants to be hers in such a final and official way—is something she’s never let herself contemplate. Thinking of it now makes her feel so…something. Something she can’t quite name.

But it also leaves her feeling so unbelievably loved. It still amazes her that this beautiful girl can have such faith—such certainty—that she is a good and lovable person. Nora’s love has always been unconditional and freely shared. But the idea that her sweet girl wants even more—wants to be connected to her in such a powerful way—leaves her humbled. And she wonders what that makes her, if she can still question whether she’s truly worthy of having such a connection—of having her sister’s love at all.

But Olivia does know one thing for certain. Sleep is not a possibility tonight.

++++++++++

She’s still on the porch swing, sipping on a cup of coffee—her third in as many hours—when Nora comes shuffling outside the next morning, still in her pajamas. The girl’s rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, squinting slightly when the dawning sunlight hits her.

“Did you sit out here all night?”

Olivia nods, wrapping her hands around her mug. “I had a lot to think about.”

Nora drops down beside her, staring out at the horizon. “I told you to forget about it. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

“Of course you should have.”

“I didn’t want you to freak about it though.”

“I wasn’t freaking. I was…processing.”

“Staying awake and sitting outside all night feels like something you do when you’re freaking.”

“It’s calming out here. It’s a good place to think.”

“There’s nothing to think about because you’re going to forget I brought it up.”

“A conversation like that isn’t something I can forget about.”

“Why not?”

“Because I love you,” she answers simply, while her sister continues to stare straight ahead. “Sweet girl, I need you to look at me.”

Nora reluctantly turns her head. Her jaw is tight, but her eyes are already watery.

Olivia takes a breath before beginning. “You were right. Losing Serena—it does feel different for me. We both had complicated relationships with her, but it was a different kind of complicated for me.

“For fifteen years, it was just her and me. And I loved her very much. I wanted more than anything to be close to her, and, at least until I was older, I couldn’t figure out why she didn’t want the same thing. But even with the distance, there were these moments where I felt it. Where it felt like she really wanted me. And I used to wish so hard for those moments. I wished that she would pull herself out of her pain and really be there—because those moments showed me it was possible. I wanted that for me, but I also wanted that so badly for you. And I let myself believe that it would happen because it was so obvious when you were born, that of all the babies in the world, she got the best one. My love, you were so beautiful. When I realized that she couldn’t see that, it…it might have hurt worse than her not wanting me. And part of me never stopped hoping that would change.”

She gives her a soft, watery smile before continuing, “From the first time I held you, I knew I would do anything to keep you safe. For me, that meant that if she couldn’t be there for you in the way you deserved that I would be—no matter what. I’ve never regretted fighting for you—not for a second. Because you were and always will be the most important thing. But…it did mean giving up the hope that things would ever be different. And it wasn't easy for me to deal with the fact that I had already caused her so much pain and that protecting you would cause her even more. I know for certain I hurt her when I stood up in court and said that she couldn’t take care of you and that…that I would love you better than she could.”

By now, Nora’s tears are flowing freely, and Olivia knows she’s about to follow.

“What you asked me last night, it isn’t that I don’t want to say yes. But I need you to understand that, for me, it would mean truly taking you away from her. I know that might sound ridiculous because she’s not here anymore, and you’re already mine. You always have been. But there’s something about it being so official that, well, it’s something that I need to work through."

Olivia pauses and takes a deep breath. “So I’m going to ask you to give me a little time to sort myself out before we file anything. But in the meantime, I will call Simone and find out what I need to do, so that we can move forward as soon as I work through all this in my head.”

Nora’s cheeks are streaked with tears. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Olivia says with an overwhelming warmth.

Looking at the happiness on Nora’s face, she knows that it won’t take her long.

Chapter Text

The week’s been quiet, and, for once, Olivia’s managed to leave the station early. She picks up groceries, including ice cream, and heads home to hopefully spend a quiet evening with Nora. When she walks in, her sister’s squeezed between the coffee table and sofa, looking particularly contemplative. She’s surrounded by what looks like almost a hundred brochures, all in various piles on the table and floor.

“What’s all this?” Olivia asks.

“Basically all the pamphlets that my college counselor could fit in my backpack,” Nora answers. “It’s mandatory for us to meet with them every month starting halfway through junior year. I’m assigned to Ms. Clemons, and let’s just say she’s very eager.”

Olivia quickly puts the groceries away and moves to sit behind Nora on the sofa, picking up the closest brochure and thumbing through it.

“I can’t believe you’re old enough to be looking at colleges.”

The girl chuckles, “I’m not going tomorrow. You’re still stuck with me for two more years.”

More like a year and a half, she thinks.

“Ms. Clemons was gushing a little bit over my transcripts and activities—especially the neuro research. She seems to think I have a pretty good shot at a more competitive school, as long as when I get my SAT scores they're as high as they were on the practice test.”

Tilting her head in curiosity, Olivia asks, “You’ve been talking about neuroscience for a while now—are you thinking that’s definitely what you want to study?”

“Yeah,” the girl says confidently. “I’m still not exactly sure what area I want to focus on within that, but I can’t really imagine doing anything else.”

“So all these places have neuro programs?” she asks, gesturing to the piles in front of them.

Nora nods before reluctantly asking, “I was kind of hoping you might go through them with me?”

It’s a simple thing, but it warms her insides that her sweet girl not only still needs her but also wants to include her.

“Of course I will,” Olivia says earnestly.

“I’m supposed to pick a few schools that are more competitive, a few ones that are middle of the road, and then at least one that’s a sure thing, so I started dividing them into different groups based on that. But I don’t know how to figure out which are my favorites.”

“What are the top contenders?”

Nora slides over one of the smaller piles and hands her the brochure on top. “I was thinking about Barnard. They have this partnership with Columbia, so I’d get to take any classes I wanted at either school. And the professor I worked over the summer teaches some seminars there too. Plus, I kind of like the idea of an all-women’s college.”

There are groups of smiling young women on each page, all standing in front of dorms or looking studious in lecture halls. Olivia can easily picture Nora amongst them.

“I think this could be a great option for you,” she agrees. “It’s smaller, and I think you’d really like the campus.”

“NYU could be good too,” Nora says, handing over another brochure. “They have a great neuro program and a lot of research opportunities. I’m not sure I like how spread out it is though. It doesn’t really feel like a campus. But I don’t think I’m ready to rule it out yet.”

Pointing to yet another pile, Nora continues, “These are the more middle of the road options—ones that have closer to a fifty percent acceptance rate. I think I like Fordham and Hunter College the best out of those. But both of them only have behavioral neuroscience programs instead of just straight neuro, so I’d want to look more at the major requirements to make sure I’m not narrowing down too early.”

“Too early? What do you mean?”

“Well, a lot of people who major in neuro go on to med school or get a Ph.D., and I want to make sure I get time as an undergrad in a lot of different areas since I'll have to narrow down for post-grad."

A surprised smile spreads across Olivia’s face. “You want to be a doctor?”

“Not like one who sees patients,” she explains with a self-conscious look. “Even if I went to med school, I’d want to focus on research.”

“My kid's gonna be a doctor,” she says with proud grin.

Nora bashfully replies, “Don’t be weird about it.”

“I’m just impressed by you—aren’t I allowed to be impressed?”

The girl playfully rolls her eyes, but it’s obvious she’s pleased.

“What about that pile?” Olivia asks, pointing toward a rather large stack shoved under the coffee table.

“Those are ones I don’t think I’m interested in,” Nora dismisses.

“That’s a pretty big pile of nos. What all’s in there?”

“A bunch of ones in California. Some near D.C. and a few in Boston.”

It quickly dawns on Olivia that all of the schools Nora’s mentioned are located within a twenty-five-minute radius of their apartment, begging the question, “Is it because they’re further away?”

Her sister shrugs off the inquiry. “I think it just makes sense for me to stay in the city. I already have some contacts with a couple of researchers at private labs here where I could intern, and my advisor from my summer program said she might be able to find something for me to do there no matter where I go.”

“Okay, well, if you want to stay here, what about Columbia?”

Nora shifts uncomfortably. “Ms. Clemons was definitely pushing it. But I’m not sure. I guess, it just…it feels a little weird.”

“Why?” she asks with confusion.

Her sweet girls says quietly, "That's where Serena went."

“Ah,” Olivia exhales as realization sets in. “Well, that doesn’t mean you can’t go there. You loved being there this summer, and it’s one of the top colleges in the country. And isn’t their neuro program really strong?”

“It’s one of the best,” the girl concedes.

“Why don’t we go do the full tour then,” she encourages. “You can ask questions. We can learn more about it. And even if you decide you don’t want to apply, you’ll at least have something to compare with the other schools you’re interested in.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Nora agrees reluctantly. “Maureen actually told me she wants to apply there too. She asked me if I wanted to do this prospective students thing with her in a couple of weeks. I said I’d think about it.”

“We should go with her—it can’t hurt to look.”

When her sister still looks doubtful, Olivia adds, “Sweet girl, you should go where you want to go. Serena shouldn’t be part of your decision. And she will be if you don’t go to Columbia just because she did.”

“It’s hard to separate her out sometimes,” the girl admits. “I just really don’t want to be like her.”

Taken aback, Olivia says emphatically, “My love, you are your own person. And a very smart girl has said that to me more than a few times. If it’s true for me, then it’s true for you too.”

“That’s a pretty rock-solid argument—quoting me to me. I am right about most things,” she says with a half grin.

Looking back to her piles, a more pensive expression crosses Nora's face as she idly picks at the corner of a booklet for Johns Hopkins.

Sensing something is on her mind, Olivia slides down to the floor to sit beside her.

Her hunch is proven correct when Nora says softly, “I’ve been thinking about her lately. Since we talked at the beach.”

“What kinds of things have you been thinking?” she asks gently.

“About what you said—that you had those good moments with her. That stuff had to have happened mostly before I was born because I don’t ever remember anything like that. It just kind of made me realize there’s still a lot I don’t know about you. And even though I don't feel the way you do about her, she mattered to you. And you matter to me. So, I think…I’d like to hear more about the good moments. If you want to tell me.”

Olivia tucks a strand of Nora’s hair behind her ear to get a better view of her face. “Okay. Well, when I was little, she’d let me sit next to her in bed, and she’d read to me—Charlotte’s Web, The Secret Garden, and The Wind in the Willows were my favorites. She always seemed so happy with a book in her hands, and I think she liked sharing that with me.”

Nora’s looking at her with rapt attention, like she’s soaking in every word.

“Sometimes she’d take me to class with her. I’d sit in the back and watch her teach. And afterward, we’d eat lunch together on the quad. She’d ask me questions about the lecture, and she seemed so pleased when I’d answer. But I think one of my favorite memories was one year around Christmas, I think I must have been seven or eight. She took me to Strand, and she said I could get as many books as I could carry. On Christmas Day, she made us hot chocolate, and we just sat together all day reading everything we’d gotten.”

“That’s all stuff you did with me,” Nora observes quietly. “Not the teaching thing, obviously, but taking me to school with you, reading together. I used to loved doing that stuff with you.”

“Those things were some of the happiest moments I ever had, at least until you were born. I guess I just wanted to share them with you.”

“I wish you could have had more moments like that.”

“The idea of it sounds nice,” Olivia agrees. “And there’s probably a lot of things I’m carrying around because I didn’t have more of them. But I actually don’t think I would change anything.”

“Really?” the girl says skeptically.

“If I had those kinds of moments all the time, it would have meant Serena was sober. And if she had been sober, then…I wouldn’t have you.”

“But you wouldn’t know that. I just wouldn’t exist.”

Olivia gives her a loving smile, “I would still have known something was missing, even if I didn’t know exactly what it was.”

“I wouldn’t change anything either,” Nora agrees shyly. “But I do wonder sometimes. What it would have been like for us if she hadn’t been so messed up.”

“I do too. Especially what it would have been like for you. If she hadn’t been so far gone already, I think she would have been…completely enamored by you.”

“Why?” she asks in disbelief.

“You’re so smart, and you love school and learning and you’re so passionate about your interests. Those things meant everything to her, and she would have loved that you felt the same.”

“You care just as much about all that as I do,” her sister counters.

“Not in the way she wanted. I didn’t exactly go down the path she would have chosen for me.”

“You’re smart. You were a good student. You went to college and have a good job. What’s the problem?”

“I think she thought being a cop was beneath me. I went to John Jay—a city school—instead of an Ivy. I don’t think that was intellectual enough for her.”

Nora asks with sincere curiosity, “Would you have wanted to go to an Ivy League school? You know if…if it weren’t for me? I know that’s why you went where you did—so you could stay around here and take care of me.”

“I don’t think you changed things all that much,” she answers without hesitation. “I never had my sights on a school like Columbia. Maybe I would have gone away to school, but, professionally, I still would have ended up in the same place. Where I went to school didn’t really matter because I’m doing exactly what I wanted anyway. And I just lucked out that what I wanted to do came with a steady paycheck and health insurance for us.”

Nora gives her another soft smile before ducking her head. “I really like talking with you like this.”

“I like it too.”

“It feels like we’re being more honest with each other lately. I worry less when I know you’re not bottling things up.”

“Maybe you should keep that in mind next time you bottle things up?” she replies pointedly.

“Yeah. I’ll keep working on that,” Nora concedes. “It just takes a while sometimes for me to get it out—to be able to put into the right words.”

Olivia shakes her head with an amused look, “God, sometimes you are so much like me.”

“That’s a good thing,” her sister grins back. “Because you’re pretty much who I want to be when I grow up.”

Looking at her sister, feeling the sincerity of her words, Olivia thinks her heart might burst right then and there.

Chapter Text

It’s a crisp January morning, but the sun is shining brightly as Olivia and Nora make their way twenty blocks north to Morningside Heights. Maureen and Elliot are waiting for them in the admissions office, and her partner’s daughter looks absolutely giddy. In a crowded auditorium, the four of them sit with dozens of other prospective students and their parents as an overeager admissions director goes on and on about how wonderful and exceptional Columbia is.

Elliot seems uncomfortable the entire time, like he’s wearing a pair of shoes that don’t fit quite right. He shifts in his seat and rolls and unrolls the brochure he’d picked up on the way in.

Olivia nudges his arm. “You okay?”

“Just a lot to take in,” he murmurs back.

She can’t argue that, so she just gives him a reassuring smile, which he returns.

However reluctant Nora may have been about Columbia, she’s nothing but smiles as they follow their tour guide across campus. It’s something else, walking next to Elliot with their girls just ahead, listening to them talk about campus life and school activities. He keeps glancing at her like he can’t believe they’re there. That their kids are closer to being adults than the sweet babies they started out as.

“They fit right in, don’t they?” he says, a hint of awe in his voice.

She can’t help but agree.

As the tour wraps up, Maureen is practically vibrating with excitement.

“I love it here,” she gushes. “This is definitely my first choice.”

“What about you, Nor?” Elliot asks. Olivia can’t help the flutter that spreads through her chest at his efforts to include her sweet girl.

“It’s pretty amazing,” she admits. “I wasn’t sure about applying, but I think it’s a definite yes.”

“It would be so cool if we both got in,” her friend says excitedly, and Nora immediately agrees.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving. Should we grab something to eat before we all head home?” Elliot asks.

“That sounds great,” Nora answers.

“Yeah—definitely,” Maureen seconds. “Let me just run back inside before we go—I want to grab an application packet.”

As they wait for Elliot’s eldest to return, a scholarly looking woman passes by, digging through a brief case in search of something or other. She briefly looks up, pausing her search and honing in on their group.

“Nora?” the woman asks.

Her sister immediately smiles. “Dr. Martin—it’s so nice to see you.”

“You too,” she says earnestly. “Are you here on a campus tour?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I’d been hoping you’d consider Columbia. I’d love to have you join our program.”

“Me too. I really enjoyed working with you.”

Realizing that she’s failed to make introductions, Nora rushes, “Oh, I’m sorry. This is Dr. Martin. She was one of my advisors during my summer program last year. Dr. Martin—this is Elliot Stabler, he’s my friend Maureen’s dad, and this is my mom, Olivia Benson.”

It feels like the breath has been sucked out of her lungs. She’s frozen in place, eyes locked on Nora, and jaw slightly dropped. Her sister has said those words without batting an eye. Like it’s a perfectly normal and commonplace way to introduce her.

This is my mom.

Recognizing her surprise, Elliot immediately extends a hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s lovely to meet you both as well,” Dr. Martin says before turning to Olivia, who almost flinches. “Your daughter was a wonderful addition to our summer program and a joy to work with. She’s a natural in the lab.”

Her daughter.

“Um, t-thank you,” she stutters, unable to fully process the exchange that’s currently happening. “Y-yeah, she…um, she was very excited for the opportunity. She…she had so many great things to say about it.”

The woman smiles before looking back to Nora. “Well, I’m so glad I ran into you. I know you won’t be applying until next year but be sure to let me know when you submit your application. I don’t have much sway around here, but I’m still happy to put in a good word.”

“I will. I promise,” her sister replies with a shy smile.

And just like that, the woman is gone.

“I’m going to go catch up with Maureen—I think I want to grab a packet too,” Nora says, like nothing of significance had just happened.

“Sure, kiddo,” Elliot nods. “We’ll be here.” As she walks off, he gives Olivia an amused look. “You need to breathe into a paper bag or something?”

She doesn’t answer at first, just points at the spot where Nora had been standing. “She…she…”

“Yeah,” he confirms, needing no further explanation. “She did.”

She looks at him intently, like he’s not grasping things clearly. “El, she’s never done that before.”

“I kind of figured that from your reaction.”

She rubs her forehead, trying to puzzle it out. “She probably just didn’t want to explain, right?”

Elliot looks at her with an eyebrow raised and what would ordinarily be an annoying smirk. “Liv—she’s been waiting her whole life to say that.”

++++++++++

As they walk to a restaurant near campus, Olivia can hear the girls chattering away, but nothing they’re saying seems to register. She hardly says a word as they eat, but she can feel Elliot’s eyes on her as he steals bites of her pasta that she’s hardly touched. At one point, he taps her leg with his foot, nodding toward Nora who’s waiting for a response to a question she’s missed entirely. The tap of his foot feels like a jolt up her body—a feeling she doesn’t have the bandwidth to contemplate.

She’s more than grateful when Elliot takes the lead for the rest of the conversation after that, seemingly trying to shield her from having to engage any further. When their meal is finished, the pairs separate to head home. Nora talks almost the entire way down Amsterdam Avenue, but Olivia only manages a mmhmm here and there.

She’s still in a haze as they walk in their front door, not noticing Nora’s building frustration.

“You know, if this is what you’re going to be like, then I won’t say it again.”

Pulled back to the moment, Olivia replies innocently, “Say what?”

Nora glares pointedly. “You know what.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighs. “You caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

“I asked you to adopt me. It shouldn’t be that big of a surprise.”

“We just hadn’t talked about that specifically. I guess I sort of assumed I’d still be Livie.”

“I can’t introduce you to people as my Livie. I’m not six years old anymore.”

“You can still introduce me as your sister.”

“Because it freaks you out if I say you’re my mom?” 

“No, no. It’s fine—if that’s what you want—then it’s fine.”

Nora crosses her arms. “That makes it sound like I’m forcing you into it.”

“You’re not. I only meant I don’t want you to feel like you have to say that just because of the adoption. If you still want to tell people I’m your sister, that’s okay.”

“You do get that the whole point of the adoption is so that you’ll officially be my mom, right? I’ll get a new birth certificate, and in the box labeled mother’s name, it’s going to say Olivia Benson.”

“I…I know that.”

“Well, I want to be able to introduce you like that.”

“Okay,” she exhales, heart clenching and feeling more than a little overwhelmed at the prospect. “Does that mean…do you still want to call me Livie? Or do you want to call me…”

“You can say it, you know. It’s not a dirty word.” Her sweet girl’s voice is suddenly quieter with a mixture of regret for bringing this all up and hurt that Olivia seems less than enthusiastic about it.

“My love,” she says gently. “Do you want to call me mom?”
 

Nora shifts uncomfortably. “I was sort of hoping that I could introduce you to people as my mom, but I still mostly want to call you Livie. That’s always felt special—like it’s just ours. And for me it’s kind of always meant mom anyway. But I thought maybe sometimes, if it’s not too weird, that…that I could call you mom. Not all the time, just, you know, sometimes.”

“It’s not too weird,” she answers, holding back tears.

“Are you sure? Because all the evidence suggests otherwise.”

“I promise—it’s not weird. It was a little overwhelming to hear you say it, but not because it’s a bad thing. It’s…I would love it.”

Her sweet girl looks relieved. “Okay…mom.”

Chapter Text

It’s been a shit week. And it’s only Wednesday.

Peter Cordell. Carmella Barrantes. Clayton Derricks. She can’t stop playing the images of their bodies in her mind. She’d tried to help them, and now they’re all dead. Because of her. Because she made a mistake and helped convict an innocent man of a crime he didn’t commit. But that man isn’t innocent anymore.

She’s wrung out from a less than successful day of trying to track the bastard down, which Nora clearly senses the minute she walks in the door. She’s distracted and distant and obviously in her own head, but her sweet girl says nothing about it.

Olivia knows she should say something. Reassure her that everything’s alright, even if it most certainly isn’t. But she doesn’t want to lie. And the truth feels like too much. So says nothing. Just kisses Nora on the head before they both go to sleep.

The sound of the buzzer wakes both of them just before dawn. It’s loud and long, like someone’s laying on the button. Olivia moves toward the front door as Nora comes shuffling out of her room.

“Who could that possibly be?” she says as she rubs her eyes. “It’s four in the morning.”

“I’m not sure,” Olivia replies absently, a sinking feeling of dread building in the pit of her stomach. Pressing the speaker, she asks, “Who is it?”

No answer.

“Who's down there?”

No answer.

“You've got the wrong apartment.”

In seconds, the buzzing returns, and she knows for certain what this is. There’s no hesitation as she moves to the gun safe in the front closet and pulls out her side arm.

“Livie, what’s going on?” Nora asks with a building worry. “What’s happening?”

“Stay here.”

“Why? What’s—”

“Nora,” she says sharply. “Stay here.”

When she reaches the street, no one is there. Just a dead man in a box.

++++++++++

“Hotshot like the others?” Elliot asks her as she stands, dead eyed, in front of her building just a few hours later.

“Bastard dumped him at my feet, like some gift. Clayton Derricks' father.” Olivia clenches her jaw. “I should have seen this coming. I should have…I should have gotten her out of here.”

“Nora’s okay.”

“My kid who has panic attacks had a body dumped on her doorstep by some guy who’s fixated on me. She’s not okay,” she retorts. “He knows where I live. He’s killed people I’ve tried to help. What if he decides that’s not enough?”

“You can’t think like that.”

Before she can argue further, FBI Agent Know-It-All interrupts. “The canvass of your neighbors is drawing a blank. Did you notice any strangers in the area, Detective Benson? Anyone who stood out?”

She practically spits back, “Is there some reason that you think if I had that I would withhold the information?”

“Sorry, but as much training as we get in being observant, when it comes to our personal safety and well-being, we're not as diligent.”

Olivia is practically fuming. “Well, when it comes to my daughter’s personal safety and well-being, you can be damn sure I’m diligent.”

“Look, I'm sure you’re capable, but you’re going to have to stand down.”

“Not a chance.”

“This man was alive until you went to the tombs and questioned him.”

Elliot interrupts. “A little early to be pointing fingers, isn't it?”

“I'm not trying to blame her, but she can't work this case anymore.”

Olivia snaps back, “Look, you're wasting your breath. First of all, I don't work for you. Second of all, these victims are my cases.”

“The perp is stalking you, which is why you need a protective detail.”

“I don’t need one. I'm not a victim,” she practically shouts.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Elliot says as he grips her arm and pulls her to the side. “Take the detail.”

“I don’t need it.”

“We both know how triggering this is going to be for Nora.”

“That’s a low blow,” she glares back.

“I know you want her safe, but this isn’t like last time. You can't just send her away and leave yourself in the middle of this. So take the damn detail, and come and stay with me for a few days. She needs you with her—she needs to know you’re okay.”

She only grits teeth in response.

"Liv, Nora would be devastated if anything happened to you, so, for once, you need to care about yourself just as much as you care about her and accept the help.”

At that her resistance melts, and her anger morphs into anguish. “El, why does this keep happening? Why can’t I ever seem to protect her?”

“You can—you just have to accept that sometimes you’re going to need help to do it.”

“I shouldn’t need help.”

“That’s not how it works. It takes a village—and you’ve got one. So let us help.”

“Yeah,” she nods in defeat. “Yeah, okay.”

++++++++++

It’s like déjà vu. He picks up Nora from school. Brings her to the precinct. Lets Kathy know they’ll have two guests joining them for who knows how long. But this time, when Nora learns that she and Olivia will be staying at his house for a bit, there’s no protesting. In fact, she says nothing in response. Nothing in the car. Nothing on the way up to the bullpen. There’s no panic, but there’s no reaction either.

And then she sees the board.

The bulletin board that’s covered in pictures of each of the victims laid out in that body farm, arms tied and clutching each other. She looks completely numb, almost frozen, but then he notices her gripping the edge of the desk so tightly that her knuckles turn white just before her breathing starts coming more rapidly. Without missing a beat, he guides her to Olivia’s chair, turns her away from the gruesome images, and kneels in front of her.

“Hey, hey,” he soothes. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

She just stares at him and hyperventilates . Elliot reaches for her hand and places it over his heart so she can feel the rise and fall of his chest. “Just look at me. Focus on my voice, and try to match my breathing, okay? Slow, deep breaths.”

Nora must hear him because she grips her fingers into his shirt and tries to take in a deep inhale.

“That’s it. You’re doing great. Just keep breathing. Focus on me,” he encourages. “You ever do 3-3-3? The grounding thing?”

He’s relieved when Nora gives him a nod in the affirmative.

“Perfect—let’s do it. Can you tell me three things you can see?”

“Y-you.”

“That’s great,” he praises. “What else?”

“Y-your desk.”

“Good, good. Last one.”

“F-file cabinet.”

“That’s perfect. Now, three things you hear.”

She answers more confidently, “Y-your voice. P-people walking around. F-footsteps.”

“I think two and three are the same, but I’ll give it to ya,” he grins.

Nora gives him a half smile in return, and he can see her breathing start to slow.

“Okay. Last thing—three things you can move.”

She flexes one hand, rubs the other on her jeans, and taps her foot on the chair leg.

“Perfect. That’s great. You’re doing great.”

“I’m…I’m okay,” she manages evenly before her eyes catch something over his shoulder. He turns to see his partner intently watching them both.

“Hey,” he says to her before stepping back so she can take his place, which she quickly does. She runs her hand over Nora’s cheek, trying to offer a reassuring smile.

“Livie, it’s okay. I’m…I’m okay. Really.”

“Do you want your meds?” Olivia asks, concern etched on her face.

“No, no. I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good," she repeats, sending Elliot a grateful expression.

“I’ll get you some water,” he offers and heads toward the vending machines in the hallway.

He digs for a one-dollar bill from his wallet, trying to smooth it out when it’s rejected. He gives up and starts sifting through his pockets, hoping to find a few quarters instead, when he notices Olivia approaching.

“How did you know what to do?” she asks, staring at him both with awe and appreciation. “How did you know what to say to her?”

He looks down and rubs the back of his head. “I, uh, I asked Huang for some tips. When he was here earlier. I didn’t know what to do last time. Just wanted to be better prepared if it happened again.”

She’s looking at him with an intensity that sends a warm shock through his chest—a feeling that’s somehow both familiar and completely new. It’s powerful, like she’s seeing something for the first time. Seeing something in him. Something no one else ever has. Something no one else ever could. He loses track of how long they stand there like that. Eyes locked on one another. When her eyes eventually drop, she doesn’t say anything. Just turns and heads back to Nora.

But somehow, she’s said more than she ever has before.

Chapter Text

“Nora’s going to stay with us again?” Maureen asks eagerly. “For how long?”

“I’m not sure,” Kathy answers as she peels a potato. “At least a day or two.”

“This is so great.”

She gives Maureen a sobering look. “I know you’re excited, but you need to remember that Nora might not be.”

“What do you mean?” her daughter asks in confusion.

“You know that she’s had some issues with anxiety.”

“Yeah, she’s told me all about that. She said she worries a lot about Olivia.”

“Well, something’s come up at work. There’ve been some…threats. Toward Olivia. That’s why they’re both coming to stay with us.”

“Oh,” Maureen says, deflating. “Are they okay?”

“They’re fine—Olivia and your dad just want to be extra cautious.”

“But it must be more serious than last time if Olivia’s coming too.”

“I think that has more to do with Nora than anything else.”

“Because of the anxiety stuff?” At Kathy’s nod, Maureen continues, “Is there anything I should do? You know, to help her?”

Kathy can’t help but smile at her eldest’s earnest desire to help her friend.

“I think Nora or Olivia will let you know if there is. Maybe just be mindful that she might not seem like herself—and that she might not be as happy to see you as you are to see her.”

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” her daughter nods, grateful that the suggestion is something she can easily give.

++++++++++

“You okay, my love?” Olivia asks when she catches Nora’s uneasy expression in the rearview mirror as they drive the last few blocks to the Stabler residence.

“I’m fine,” she answers unconvincingly, looking over her shoulder at the car behind them. “Are those guys going to follow us everywhere?”

“Just for a while.”

“But that’s a good thing,” Elliot adds from the driver’s seat. “Means someone’s watching out for you. For both of you.”

“Yeah,” she nods, like she’s trying to convince herself. “That’s…that’s good.”

“It’ll just be for a few days,” Olivia promises. Nora gives her a mumbled okay as they pull into the driveway.

“Nor, why don’t you go on in?” Elliot says with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “We just need to talk to the detail and go over some work stuff.”

With assurances that they’ll be just behind her, Nora heads inside where she’s practically tackled by the twins, both grabbing at her arms.

“Nora! Nora!” Dickie practically shouts. “Did you miss me?”

She lets out a genuine smile. “Of course I did.”

“Me too?” Lizzie asks more reservedly.

“Oh, for sure,” she nods back, leaving her little friend beaming.

“Come play with us!” Dickie interjects, bouncing on his toes.

“Aw, I’m sorry, bud, but I actually have to finish some homework.”

“Ugh,” he cringed. “That’s no fun. Can’t you skip it tonight? I skip mine all the time.”

“You know, I wish I could, but I really have to do it.”

“Why?” he asks, face scrunched in disbelief.

“Well, because homework is important. And I like school, and I want to get good grades.” Dickie looks at her like she’s speaking a foreign language. “Tell you what, let me work for a while, and then if I finish in time, we can play before you go to bed. Deal?”

“Deal,” he says with a grin and a handshake.

++++++++++

“Nora,” Kathy greets when she enters the kitchen. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You too,” she answers shyly.

“Do you want to work at the table?”

“If that’s okay.”

“Of course it is—I could use the company.”

Ten minutes later, Nora’s already diligently at work, a thick calculus textbook and spiral notebook laid out in front of her. Maureen had joined her almost immediately and is now equally engrossed in her books. The silence in the room is briefly broken when Dickie marches into the kitchen with his backpack and noisily pulls out the chair next to Nora. Once he’s seated, he ineffectively attempts to scootch the chair closer to his friend.

“Dickie, don’t bother Nora,” Kathy admonishes.

Looking affronted, he answers back, “Mom, I’m not bothering her. I’m doing homework too.”

“Oh, really?” his mother says with an amused look.

“Nora says it’s important to do your homework,” he says seriously. “So I gotta make sure I do it.”

“Oh, well, sure. If Nora says it, it must be true,” she says lightly.

“Exactly,” he confirms.

“I guess all those times I said it was important didn’t count.”

“Nora’s really smart. She knows these things.”

Kathy shakes her head with a smile, which Nora covertly returns.

When another ten minutes goes by, Kathleen and Lizzie have both shuffled down the stairs to join the study session. With all of her children gathered around the table, the mother of four can’t help but think, Thank god for Nora Benson.

++++++++++

Dinner is an awkward affair. At least for Olivia. The table is chaos—everyone talking over each other and bumping elbows as they pass a bowl of mashed potatoes and platter of meatloaf back and forth. It’s not a setting she’s familiar with nor is it one she’s particularly comfortable in.

But the opposite seems to be true for Nora. Her sweet girl is shy, as she always tends to be around larger groups, but she still seems to fit in seamlessly. If Olivia didn’t know otherwise, she would think Nora was simply a part of the family.

As the last bits of food are eaten, the back-and-forth chatter is broken when Kathy asks, “So, Nora—is senior year going okay so far?”

“Yeah, it’s good. Really busy though. Sometimes it feels like all I do is study. But the nice thing is that I get to have late arrival and early release because of how many AP classes I’m taking.”

“How many are you in?” Maureen asks between bites.

“Five,” Nora says casually.

“Five,” she replies wide eyed. “That’s so many. Have you taken a lot before this?”

“I think six.”

“So, like, eleven total? I’m in my first one this year. Which ones are you taking now?”

“Um, Government, Physics, Calc, Lit, and Statistics,” she answers hesitantly.

“You’re taking two math classes at once? Why?”

“I like math,” she replies, slightly confused by her friend’s sudden intensity. “And neuroscience is really math and science heavy, so I want to be prepared. And it looks good on my college applications.”

“Have you started working on those yet?”

“Yeah,” Nora nods, grateful for the slight shift in topic. “I’ve got one submitted for a safety school, but I’m still working on everything else.”

“At least you’ve managed to get one done. I haven’t finished any. I want to wait until I get my SAT scores back—I took it again last month. I’m really hoping for a score bump. I got a 640 on the reading last time, but my math was way lower. How did you do?”

She tenses at the question, although only her sister seems to notice. “Uh, pretty good. I mean, I was happy with my scores.”

Maureen looks like she wants to press further, but Olivia jumps in before the girl can say anything else. “My love, did you have any other work you wanted to do tonight?”

Nora looks immensely relieved. “Yeah, yeah—I should finish a few more things.”

“You’re welcome to work in the living room,” Kathy offers. “That’s where Olivia’s going to be. The sofa bed isn’t set up yet though, so there’s plenty of room to spread out.”

“Thanks,” she replies nervously. “Dinner was really good. I’ll just…I’ll head in there now.”

“I’ll get the trundle set up in my room for when you’re done,” Maureen says before she gets up.

“Oh, um, that’s…,” Nora trails off before looking to Olivia, who knows immediately the cause of her apprehension. The pair share a wordless exchange—the elder sending reassurance which the younger accepts.

“Yeah, okay,” she says more confidently. “That sounds great.”

When the table is cleared and the rest of the Stablers have spread out across the house, Olivia moves to the living room where Nora is, once again, hard at work.

“Thanks for that—for getting me out of there,” her sweet girl says quietly. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“I figured as much.”

“I feel bad.”

“You studied hard for that test. You earned those scores.”

“I know. She was making such a big deal about the AP thing though. I just don’t want her to know how much higher I scored. What should I say if she asks again?”

“Exactly what you said before. That you’re happy with your scores.”

“But what if she pushes?”

“Then you can just say that’s not something you share.”

Nora gives her an accepting nod, dropping her eyes back down to her homework.

Olivia runs a hand down her sweet girl’s long brown locks, hoping to address the second cause of her nervousness at the dinner table.

“You know I’m right here if you need me tonight.”

She looks up reluctantly, with a hint of shame in her eyes. “It’s just easier to sleep with you when I know I’m going to have a nightmare.”

“You don’t know that you will. You haven’t been having as many lately.”

“Seems like the odds are pretty good with what’s going on.”

“It’ll be okay,” Olivia says gently, pulling her into a side hug. “Like I said, I’m right here if you need anything.”

Nora leans into the touch. “I’m glad you came with me this time. I know you probably didn’t want to—with whatever’s going on. But it’s easier with you here.”

“I always want to be with you. Especially with things like this.”

Nora’s relieved smile makes accepting the added protection completely worth it.

++++++++++

Sleep is elusive. And not just because of the lumpy pull-out sofa. Olivia’s mind is racing through the day’s events, alternating between work and Nora. It’s a good four hours before she finally starts to nod off, and almost as soon as she does, she’s startled back to consciousness by a light shake to her shoulder.

Opening her eyes, still slightly disoriented, she hears a voice whisper, “Olivia—something’s wrong with Nora.”

That has her wide awake and scrambling up. She realizes it’s Maureen that’s woken her, and she quickly follows behind the girl, up the stairs and through the hall to her room.

The minute she enters, she sees her sweet girl with her back pressed against the wall, eyes squeezed shut as she takes deep, controlled breaths, in an effort to stave off another panic attack.

Sitting down in front of her, Olivia grasps her hand and says softly, “Hey, sweet girl.”

“Hey,” she replies, squeezing her hand back.

“I’m right here. I’m safe. You’re safe. Everything’s fine.”

“Yeah,” she exhales, finally opening her eyes.

“Nightmare?” Olivia asks gently.

She gets a sharp nod in the affirmative, leaving her dismayed that Nora’s earlier prediction has come to pass.

Between deep breaths, the girl manages, “I remembered…the grounding thing…this time. …Sometimes…I forget….Elliot…doing it…before…reminded me.”

Within a minute, a concerned Kathy appears in the doorway beside Maureen. “Everything alright?”

“We’re fine,” Olivia answers. “I’m so sorry if we woke you.”

“You didn’t,” she assures, focusing on Nora who seems less than fine. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“I’m good,” Nora exhales. “Just needed…my mom.”

Kathy smiles softly at that, knowing that it’s a new development for her to refer to her husband’s partner that way.

“Do you think you can make it downstairs?” Olivia asks. “We can get you something to drink, and let Maureen get back to sleep.”

Nora nods once and rises, never letting go of Olivia’s hand.

Kathy gestures for the pair to follow her downstairs where they each take a seat at the kitchen table.

“Do you want some tea?” she offers.

“You don’t…have to…do that…water’s…fine.”

“How about both? I’m going to make myself some tea anyway, so it’s no trouble.”

“Okay…thank you.”

As Kathy waits for the water to boil, Nora’s breath returns to normal and comes back to herself, and the events of the last few minutes fully hit her.

“I’m so sorry,” she rushes, looking between the women. “I didn’t mean to bother everyone.”

“Honey, you have nothing to apologize for,” the blonde says earnestly.

“But I woke everyone up.”

“I’m restless at night anyway, and I have no doubt Maureen’s already back asleep. She always was a good sleeper. Kathleen and the twins on the other hand, not so much.”

Olivia smiles, rubbing Nora’s back. “Sounds like you. You were always an up-every-two-hours baby.”

“You missed out,” Kathy chuckles as she joins them with three steaming mugs and an extra glass of water. “That first one’s usually a trick baby—a great sleeper, easy going. The universe does that so you get overconfident and think the next one will be just as easy.”

Nora practically gulps down the water as soon as it’s on the table, before looking nervously to her Livie. “The nightmare. It was bad. You were dead. You…were…you were in…that…box,” she whispers as her breathing starts to become labored.

Olivia squeezes her hand again. “I’m right here, my love. I’m okay. It wasn’t real.”

Her breathing evens out again, but a stream of tears quickly follows. “I hate this. I hate that I’m like this. That I can’t make it stop.”

Kathy gives her a sympathetic look. “You know I used to have nightmares too—when Elliot was first in the Marines. I’d wake up with my heart racing, out of breath—like someone had been chasing me.”

“Yeah?” Nora asks with interest.

The woman nods back. “It’s normal to worry about the people you love.”

“Did it get better?”

“Over time. They still happen once in a while, but they’re much less frequent.”

The girl looks hopeful at the admission. “Thank you—for sharing that.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Putting her water glass back on the table, Nora says with shaky confidence, “I think, I’m feeling better. I want to try to go back to sleep.”

Olivia looks at her hesitantly. “Do you want to go back upstairs? Or do you need to—”

“I can go back upstairs,” she cuts off. “I’m good now. Really.”

When Nora’s out of earshot, Kathy asks quietly, “Does she need that a lot? To sleep with you?”

Olivia’s slightly stunned that the woman has correctly guessed where her question had been going.

“She…it’s not often. Just sometimes. The nightmares are mostly about me, so it makes her feel better when she wakes up and I’m right there.”

“Makes sense,” she nods. “You know, mom to mom—you’re doing great with all this.”

“I don’t know about that,” Olivia says with a hollow laugh.

“Kids go through things. All we can do is be there for them.”

“I just want to take away her pain.”

“Don’t we all?” she answers with a knowing look. “Elliot told me, a little about all this. How hard of a time she’s been having.”

“Yeah, it’s been a difficult couple of years.”

“From what I understand, it’s been difficult a lot longer than that. You both have been through a lot together.”

“We’ve always managed through it before this.”

“You still are,” Kathy assures her. “I’m not sure if it helps, but I want you to know that she’s always welcome here. You and I never talked about Elliot’s offer—for her to come live with us if anything ever happened. But I’m completely on board with that.”

“It does help. It helps a lot actually." 

“You’re important to him. So is Nora.”

“Well, he’s important to us too. He’s a good friend—a good partner.”

“I’m sure,” she says with a soft smile. “Well, the troublemakers will be awake in just a few hours, so I’m going to follow Nora’s lead and head back to sleep.”

She nods in understanding. “Thank you, Kathy. For everything.”

The woman pauses for a moment, looking intently at Olivia. “I know you’d do the same for him.”

Chapter Text

It’s been a long night. Called to the scene of violent attack, Olivia’s spent most of the last few hours with her partner—talking to the techs, interviewing witnesses. All the standard first steps for a new case.

It hits her harder than usual though. The idea that this woman’s child has been ripped from her body and left who knows where. Elliot must sense it because when morning comes, he tells her to go home and have breakfast with Nora. Tells her that they have it handled and that an hour away won’t change anything. Especially if it helps get her head in the game.

Nora’s putting a Pop Tart in the toaster when she walks in the apartment. Her sweet girl gives her a tight side hug, almost like she knows why Olivia’s come home. They sit together at the counter, and she listens to Nora go on about a school project and an upcoming test, her tension easing with each passing moment.

As Nora’s eating the last bite of her brown sugar and cinnamon flavored breakfast, she asks, “Have you talked to Simone lately? About the adoption paperwork?”

Olivia nods. “She called the other day. Everything’s been filed, and she thinks it’ll be granted soon. Sounds like maybe a month or so.”

“Are you going to talk with her again before that?”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” she answers, confused by the question. “Why?”

“Well, I was doing some reading about how this all works. And I saw that when you get a new birth certificate, you can change your name. I was kind of thinking that…I might want to do that.”

Taken aback, Olivia replies, “You want to change your name? To what?”

“I mean my first name. I don’t really want to be Eleanor on paper anymore. I think I’d like to legally be Nora.”

“Oh,” she says in surprise. “What brought this on?”

The girl shrugs. “I guess, I just started thinking about graduation and getting my diploma, and I realized it’s going to say Eleanor. And there’s so much other stuff coming too—college diploma, any papers I get published, that kind of thing. I want to be Nora on all that stuff.”

The reasoning makes sense, but Olivia can’t help but ask, “Is this because Serena called you Eleanor?”

“No," the girl rushes to assure. "It’s just not my name. I’m Nora. I want to be that officially. That’s what you’ve always called me. And that’s who I really am.”

“Okay,” she nods with a gentle smile. “I’ll talk to Simone about what we need to do to get it changed.”

Nora smiles at first but then suddenly becomes fascinated with her juice glass, eyes locked on it while she nervously taps a finger on the side.

“Is there something else you want to talk about?” Olivia asks carefully.

When her sweet girl looks up, there’s a reluctant expression on her face. “I…I was also thinking that, when everything goes through, maybe, we could do something special.”

“Sure. Did you have something in mind?”

“I don’t know,” she answers, dropping her eyes back down to the glass in front of her. “Just something to celebrate. With other people.”

“You mean like a party?” she asks, slightly shocked that the introvert in front of her would have any interest in hosting a social gathering.

“Would that be okay?” Nora asks tentatively, as though Olivia would say something other than yes.

“Of course it’s okay. Why would you think it wasn’t?”

“People do that for little kids when they get adopted. I just wasn’t sure if it’d be weird since I’m almost eighteen.”

“It doesn’t matter how old you are. It’s a big deal. We should definitely celebrate.”

“Really?” her sweet girl asks with a soft, pleased smile.

“Absolutely,” Olivia assures her. “Who would you want to invite?”

“Well, I was thinking all the Stablers. And then maybe Mia and abuela? Oh, and Mrs. Abelman—I talked to her on the phone a couple of weeks ago—to tell her about the adoption and she was so happy about it. It’d be nice to have her there.”

“That sounds like a good group.”

Nora gives her a shy look before quietly suggesting, “You know, you could invite people too. Like maybe some of the people you work with.”

“You invite who you want,” she dismisses. "It's your party."

“It's not though. It’d be for you too. I mean, the adoption means you’ll officially be my mom, but it also means I’ll officially be your daughter. We should both have the people that are important to us there. And the people you work with are important to you—not just Elliot.”

Olivia can’t help but smile as she looks at her girl. “You know, you’re right—that’s…I hadn’t thought about it like that. Sometimes, it still feels a little surreal—that I’m going to be your mom.”

Nora grins, “Livie, you’ve always been my mom. We’re just getting a piece of paper that says that so everyone else knows it too.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, as her chest fills with warmth. “You’re absolutely right.”

And for the first time, she actually believes it.

XXXXXXXXX

Elliot had been right—after just a few minutes with Nora, she feels recharged and ready to jump back into the case at hand.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for her partner. There’s obviously something wrong. He’s cold and distant and even moody. When they’re tasked with staking out a methadone clinic, he tosses her the keys without a word, sits in the passenger seat, and just stares wordlessly out the window as they drive.

A few minutes after they’ve parked across from the clinic, Olivia asks, “You think we missed her?”

“She needs her fix,” he answers flatly.

“Could've gotten it this morning.”

“No, she's coming. But you want to leave, go ahead.”

With a pointed look, she retorts, “Or you could just stop being a jerk and tell me what the hell's going on with you.”

He sighs but easily relents. “I sort of screwed up. I forgot about sending the check in for Maureen’s Columbia application. It wasn’t until you said something about it the other day that I remembered. It was a close call. Maureen was pretty upset when she found out."

“Well, you got it in. That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, sure,” he replies flatly, clearly not believing her words of reassurance.

“Elliot, what is this?” she presses.

“I don’t know,” he answers absently. “I've been distracted. I just…I don’t want to get into it.”

It’s clear the discussion is closed when he abruptly asks, “How’s Nora?”

The shift in topic gives her whiplash. She wants to pushback—get him to really explain what’s going on. But he seems desperate to change the subject, and she’s not inclined to push at this point.

“She’s good.” He says nothing in return, eyes still locked on the clinic doors, but he’s clearly waiting for her to say more. “We actually talked about the adoption this morning—just a little longer before it goes through.”

“Yeah?” he says with a side glance and barely there smile. “That’s great.”

The smile is the first positive emotion he’s shown today, so she adds, “She asked to have a party—to celebrate. You’re invited.”

“She wants me there?”

“You and your whole family were the first ones on her invite list,” she confirms, which elicits another subdued smile.

“We’ll be there. When’s it going to be?”

“I’m not sure yet. I have to figure out the where first. The guest list isn’t that long, but our apartment’s still probably too small. So I’ll have to think of something else.”

Without missing a beat, he asks, “You want me to ask Kathy if you can do it at our place? We have plenty of room.”

She looks at him for a moment in disbelief. “That’s…that’s a lot to ask.”

He turns toward her, looking at her with a sincerity that feels like a punch to the chest. “Liv, I don’t know how many times I’ve got to tell you this, but you and Nora—you’re family.”

That makes her breath catch.

He turns away, eyes back on the clinic's front door. “You know, you’d actually be doing me a favor having it at our place. Then I wouldn’t have to drag four kids into the city and parallel park a minivan.”

She opens her mouth to reply, but he cuts her off, “Don’t bother arguing. Let me just run it by Kathy. See what she thinks. And if she’s on board, then you can decide if you want to do it."

Before she can say anything else, Elliot spots their suspect and jumps out of the car, effectively ending the conversation.

++++++++++

Munch makes a lighthearted joke, and her partner snaps at him. Tells him to remember that they’re dealing with a dead baby. Like anyone needs a reminder of that.

Huang goes on about their perp and his cheating wife. That this man thought his wife’s unborn child was the problem—get rid of the baby, get rid of the problem. And Elliot looks like he wants to run. Like he’d rather be anywhere else. When he grabs his coat and leaves, Olivia follows.

“Hey,” she says with a sharp look when she catches him by the elevator. She leans on a nearby windowsill, and Elliot takes the cue, hanging his head and bracing himself for the dressing down he’s about to get. “You know, everybody in that room is on your side. But we're not mind-readers, and if you're not going to say what's going on with you, that's fine. But there's not a whole hell of a lot we can do.”

“I know you're on my side,” he says quietly.

“Elliot, what is going on? Would you talk to me?” she presses. “Is there somebody else?”

She has no idea where the last question came from, but it’s out of her mouth before she can think better of it.

“No, it's nothing like that,” he quickly dismisses as he sits next to her. “To be honest, it'd be easier if there was.”

His answer is equally as surprising as her question had been—the idea that this devoted husband and father would find it easier to have feelings for someone else than to be in the middle of whatever the hell this is.

“I... I don't know what’s going on. It's... It just never goes away, you know. Every case, a little bit more horrific than the last. And I go home. What am I supposed to do, talk about my day at work? ‘Honey, today a guy cut a baby out of his wife's stomach. Pass the gravy, please.’”

“So, you just don't talk at all.”

“I talk,” he mumbles, staring at floor. “I talk to you.”

She doesn’t let herself contemplate the implications of that comment, just answers, “You need to be talking to your wife.”

“Well, one of us has to be able to sleep at night. She thinks I'm shutting her out.”

With a piercing look, she firmly replies, “You are. That's exactly what you do. You keep this up, you're going to ruin the best thing you ever had.”

++++++++++

It’s unclear what’s changed—whether it was her talk or something else—but Elliot seems more himself the next day. He’s focused, but there’s less tension in his shoulders. Less anger towards his colleagues. He even offers to grab them both lunch from a place down the block, which she graciously accepts so she can finish scanning the lab reports piled up on her desk.

When her desk phone rings, she answers absently, “Benson.”

“Olivia? It’s Kathy.”

The reports are immediately forgotten. “Hi. Elliot just stepped out.”

“No, I was actually calling for you.”

“Oh…okay,” she answers slowly.

“He talked to me last night about the whole adoption party thing. He said you were a little hesitant about the idea of having it at our place, so I just wanted to tell you myself that we’d be happy to do it.”

“Kathy, that’s….so incredibly generous of you, but I…it's too much."

“It’s not,” she insists. “We love Nora, and this is such an important thing for her. We’re honored that she would want us to be a part of it. And we can just say this is our gift to her.”

“It’s such a big thing to put on you.”

“I promise, I wouldn’t offer if I felt that way,” she insists. “I’ve hosted a birthday party or two in my time, so I’m a pro at putting things like this together. I can talk with Nora about anything she had in mind and then take it from there. The only thing you’d need to do is the invites, and then just let me know how many people we should expect.”

When she doesn’t immediately answer, Kathy continues, “Olivia, Nora’s been such a wonderful friend to Maureen—to all my kids. We would really love to do this for her—for both of you.”

Perhaps out of bewilderment, she hears herself agree.

When the call ends, it hits Olivia that Kathy had only ever referred to her once, almost as an afterthought. Everything else had been about Nora. They love Nora. It’s an important thing for her. They’re honored that she would want them to be part of it. It’s their gift to her. She’ll talk with Nora to see if she had anything in mind.

The lack of inclusion strikes her as odd. It feels like such a departure from their last interaction—sitting together in the middle of the night, sipping tea, and talking about the struggles of parenthood—where her partner’s wife had been nothing but kind.

But the Stablers have done so much for Nora, her sweet girl adores them, and Kathy has never given her a reason to think she isn’t equally welcome in their home. So she tells herself that the focus being solely on Nora is inadvertent—Kathy has much more of a relationship with Nora and that connection is the likely motivator for her offer. The lingering feeling that it may have been an intentional choice is just her reading too much into things.

After all, there’s no reason to think otherwise.

Chapter Text

Kathy has truly outdone herself. Olivia hadn’t been sure of what it would look like for her partner’s wife to, in her words, take care of everything, but the reality is better than anything she could have imagined.  

The house is immaculate—no one would ever guess that it was occupied by a family of six.  In the living room, all the chairs are pushed up against the walls to make extra room, and there’s a giant banner hanging above the sofa—clearly made by the Stabler children—proclaiming Happy Adoption Day. The kitchen table is packed with food, all of which looks delicious, and there’s a platter of beautifully decorated cupcakes on the counter.

But Olivia is most taken by a poster propped up against what looks like a well-loved, child-sized easel. The board is so large that it hangs off the edge of it on both sides and reaches at least six inches above the top. On it is a collage of pictures—all of Olivia and Nora—taken over the past eighteen years. They’re together in some of the images, but many are just of her sweet girl—as a baby, on her first day of school, the day her team placed first in her middle school science competition.

“Don’t worry—none of those are originals,” Kathy says, suddenly next to Olivia who’s been staring at the collage for more than a few minutes. “Nora got me the negatives, and I had copies made.”

“This is…it’s perfect. All of this,” Olivia gestures around her.  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I could say the same to you.” Olivia gives her a confused look. “I know Elliot’s been struggling with something. And I know you have something to do with why he’s not anymore.”

“Oh, I just told him to talk to you. Anything else was all him.”

“Well, whatever you did, I appreciate it.” Kathy smiles softly before shaking it off. “Anyway—I hope you enjoy today. That’s really all the thanks I need.”  

++++++++++

Almost immediately after the Bensons arrival, the kids are all gathered in Maureen’s room—the eldest two doing each other’s hair and the younger ones fawning over Nora.

“Happy Adoption Day,” Lizzie says timidly when she sees her friend. “I helped mom decorate. I hope you like it.”

“You did?” the teen exclaims. “Well, you did such a great job. I love it so much.”

“I helped too,” Dickie interrupts. “I made sure to tell dad when the banner we made wasn’t hung up right.”

Nora holds back a grin. “Oh, wow, that sounds super helpful.”

“We usually only decorate the house when it’s someone’s birthday. But mom says this party isn’t for your birthday,” he explains seriously, as though this is new information. “It’s a ‘doption party. Cause Olivia’s ‘dopting you.”

“Yep,” Nora confirms.

He gets a pinched, contemplative look on his face. “Nora, what’s that mean? To get ‘dopted?”

Kathleen rolls her eyes. “Mom’s explained it to him a dozen times. It’s like he’s not recording or something.”

“Nuh uh,” he retorts with crossed arms and a glare. “She’s the one getting ‘dopted. I just want to make sure that mom got it right.”

The boy turns back to Nora. “So, what’s it mean—to get ‘dopted?”

“A-dopted,” she kindly corrects. “Well, when I was born, I didn’t have a mom like you. I had a Livie instead. She loved me. She took care of me. And she kept me safe. And even though I call her Livie, she’s really my mom.”

Still confused, he asks, “If she’s really your mom, then why do you have to be ugh-dopted?”

“Because I didn’t grow in her tummy. So we have to do something called an adoption so she can officially be my mom.”

“And that’s why we’re having a ugh-doption party? Because Olivia's your mom ‘ficially?”

His words, per usual, make her chuckle. “Yeah, bud, that’s exactly right.”

Maureen’s laughing too from her place on the bed. “Hey Dickie—remember what parties need?”

The boy’s eyebrows raise to his hairline in realization. “Oh, yeah! They need presents!” he says before scurrying off, Lizzie trailing behind him.

Her friend shakes her head in amusement and explains, “They made you something.”

Kathleen adds, “I can’t believe he forgot—he hasn’t shut up about it for a week.”

Loud stomps coming down the hallway announce the twins return. Both kids are beaming as they clutch what appear to be homemade cards.

For once, Lizzie steps up first, handing her creation to Nora. “This is for you.”

The message on the front is carefully written—To Nora, From Lizzie—and is decorated with flowers.

“You made this? It’s so beautiful.”

“There’s more on the inside,” she says opening the card for her. Inside is the sweetest image—a woman wearing a police badge and a shorter girl standing next to her, both wearing big smiles.

“It’s you and Olivia,” Lizzie explains.

“I can tell—it looks amazing.”

As always, Lizzie beams at Nora’s compliment.

“My turn! My turn!” Dickie shouts before shoving his own card into her hand. His card is decidedly less meticulous than Lizzie’s. The words on the front are at an angle, and the penmanship is hard to decipher. On the inside, there’s a drawing of something that Nora couldn't identify if you paid her.

“It’s you and me—at your party!”

“Oh, I see it,” Nora nods with faux seriousness. “It looks just like us.”

“Do you like mine better than Lizzie’s? Is it your favorite?” he asks hopefully, his twin looking annoyed at the questions.

“I don’t think I could choose a favorite. They’re so different, and I love them both.”

Dickie looks like he’s about to argue when Maureen cuts in. “Let’s head downstairs—we can’t have a party without one of the guests of honor.”

+++++++++

In less than an hour, the aforementioned party is in full swing. Standing in the doorway to the living room almost takes Olivia’s breath away. It’s an overwhelming sight—seeing the people in her and Nora’s life gathered in one place. Mia and Mrs. Álvarez, Mrs. Abelman, Munch, Fin, Cragen.

“Pretty nice turn out,” Elliot says, joining her in the doorway before taking a sip of a newly opened beer. “Can’t believe Fin came.”

Olivia gives him an amused look. “I can—he actually likes me.”

“Oh, and he doesn’t like me?” her partner replies with faux offense.

“You’re a detective. You figure it out,” she smirks back, causing him to let out a deep laugh.

His eyes lock on her as his laughter melts into a contemplative smile. They stay like that for a moment before he says with unreserved sincerity, “You know, I hope everyone showing up today tells you how many people you’ve got in your corner—how many of us want to be there for you.”

“It does,” she replies softly, feeling the intensity of his stare.

“You gonna remember that the next time you need help?”

With a dry look, she answers, “Probably not.”

He gives her a soft look before turning back to the room. As he raises his beer to his lips, he says matter-of-factly, “Guess I’ll just have to keep reminding you.”

++++++++++

Of all the guests, there is one in particular that stands out: Mrs. Abelman. The woman babysat Nora essentially from birth until age seven, when Olivia had moved out permanently from her mother’s apartment. It’s been years since she was an active part of their lives, and to say she’s happy to see both her and Nora would be an understatement.

The minute she spots Nora, Mrs. Abelman wraps her in a warm hug before going on and on about how beautiful and grown-up she is now, and her sweet girl grins under the fawning. Watching them interact, Olivia can see quite clearly how much the woman has aged. She moves much slower, stays seated in a well-worn armchair instead of mingling with everyone else. She seems tired. Not from the day, but from life. The realization is difficult to swallow.

As soon as there’s an opening, Olivia slides into the chair closest to the woman and is greeted with a warm look and gentle squeeze to the hand.

“My dear, it feels like so long since I’ve seen you. Especially since I don’t get to bump into you in the stairwell anymore.”

“That’s on me,” she says regretfully. “I should have reached out more after we moved.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to—you’re a single parent with a full-time job. That’s a lot to handle.”

“Still, I should have kept in touch.”

Mrs. Abelman kindly replies, “Let’s not waste the time we do have worrying about that.”

Olivia nods in affectionate acceptance. Her attention momentarily shifts at the sound of Nora’s laughter. Her sweet girl looks more relaxed than she’s been in ages, clearly enjoying her time at the celebration. The sight makes her want to cry tears of joy.

She's pulled back to the conversation at the sound of Mrs. Abelman’s voice.

“I’ve missed that—seeing how happy she makes you,” the woman notes with warmth. “You know, all morning, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that first day you left her with me. Do you remember it?”  

“I was still pretty sleep deprived at that point,” she recalls. “The main thing I remember was being nervous.”

“You most certainly were,” she chuckles. “I practically had to kick you out the door. I’m honestly not sure how I managed it. It was so sweet though how prepared you were. You wrote me that little book of instructions with all the things I needed to know, and I think you brought almost everything Nora owned, just in case I needed it.”

“Oh, god, I did—didn’t I?” she cringes with embarrassment. “You raised four kids, and I acted like you’d never held a baby.”

Mrs. Abelman just laughs. “I didn’t take it personally. You just wanted to make sure she was taken care of.”

“I definitely tried.”

“And you succeeded,” she says with certainty. “Look at how lovely your girl has turned out. That’s because of you.”

“I had to have something good to work with.”

“I think you underestimate your importance,” the woman counters fondly. “I hope I’m not overstepping if I tell you how proud I am of you—of how far you’ve come.”

The words make Olivia melt. “I have you to thank for that. I don’t know how we would have managed in those early days without you.”

“Oh, nonsense,” the woman dismisses with a wave of her hand.

“I wasn’t even finished with high school when she was born. You got me through that—through college and the academy.”

“You got yourself through that. You worked so hard to give her a good life.”

“And you took care of her almost every day while I did. I didn’t have anyone else to help me.”

“You had each other.”

Olivia says quietly, “I’m not sure that would have been enough.”

Mrs. Abelman looks at her with a kind smile. “You know, I remember when you and your mother moved into the building. You must have been five or six. I used to worry about you back then. You were such a quiet little thing. But then Nora came. The minute I saw you two together—saw how much you loved that little baby—well, I didn’t worry after that. You’ve always been a wonderful mother, Olivia. So, whether you had me or not, I have no doubt, you would have found a way forward. You would have done whatever it took for your daughter."

She’s speechless and too choked up to reply. She imagines this might be what it feels like to have a mother who actually cares. It’s a foreign but not unwelcome feeling. Mrs. Abelman says nothing, just keeps smiling as they both well up.

After a moment, the woman dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief pulled from her pocket. “Well, now that we’ve both had a little cry. Let’s talk about something else—you haven’t told me anything about how you are.”

A half smile crosses Olivia’s face. “I’m sorry to say there’s not much to tell.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that. Nora’s told me little things here and there, but I know there has to be more. How are things with your job?”

“That’s always a hard one. With what I do, it feels wrong to say good. But I’d say I’m…fulfilled.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” she replies. “Anyone special in your life?”

“Other than Nora?” she chuckles, trying to deflect and earning herself an amused but pointed look from Mrs. Abelman.

“I’ll take that to mean that relationships haven’t been on the priority list.”

“It’s like you said, I’m a single mother with a full-time job.”

“A single mother with an almost grown daughter,” Mrs. Abelman counters with loving reproach. “You’ve spent your whole adult life taking care of Nora. It’s high time you start taking care of yourself.”

“Easier said than done,” she replies with a single laugh.

“Well, if it was easy, it wouldn’t be worth doing.”

“I’m not in a rush,” Olivia brushes off. “Nora will be at school next year. It might be nice to just focus on work for a while.”

Mrs. Abelman gives her a penetrative look. “There’s no other reason?”

“No,” she answers slowly, unsure of why the question makes her feel uneasy.

The woman gives her a mmhmm and a nod, but it’s clear she doesn’t believe it.

“I promise, there’s not,” Olivia repeats with an uncomfortable laugh.

Mrs. Abelman just gives her that same perceptive look. “The man I saw you with earlier—your partner—he seems to care about you very much.”

Her stomach drops, and she's suddenly filled with the urge to defend herself. “His whole family does. They’ve been very good to us. They put all this together.”

“Do you like working with him?” the woman asks neutrally.

She hesitates—has the distinct feeling that there’s a double meaning to the question. But for some reason, she feels compelled to answer honestly.

“He’s the best partner I’ve ever had.”

Mrs. Abelman sends her a gentle, empathetic look. “Yes, I can see that. I think he feels the same way about you.”

Everything about this exchange now feels loaded, and she’s not entirely sure why. The uncertainty starts to send her into an internal panic.

“It’s alright, dear. You don’t have to say anything. Just promise me one thing?” Mrs. Abelman pauses a moment before reaching over to squeeze her hand tightly. “Be careful.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, sweet girl,” Olivia greets as she enters her apartment, hanging her bag on the hook by the door.

Nora replies with an absent hey. She’s sprawled out on the sofa with what looks like a dozen papers spread over both her lap and the coffee table. With the couch spoken for, Olivia takes a seat at the counter before asking, “Is that your enrollment paperwork for Columbia?”

“Yeah. It’s not due until next week, but I wanted to get it out of the way. I think I can do most of it on my own, but I’ll probably need your help with the financial aid part.”

“Sure, I can take a look at it later,” she nods. “I don’t think you mentioned—has Maureen heard back from any schools yet?”

Nora’s somber look says it all.

“She didn’t get into Columbia?” Olivia asks with a sinking feeling.

“Or Barnard or NYU,” the girl says with sympathetic disappointment. “It sounds like she’s going with Hudson, which was definitely not at the top of her list.”

“Oh, that’s tough. How’s she handling it?”

“She says she’s fine, but that seems unlikely. I told her I was here if she wanted to talk, but it just feels like one of those things where there’s not much I can say that would actually help.”

“I think you’re probably right about that. She just needs some time.”

“I feel kind of guilty though,” her girl says reluctantly.

“What for?”

“She’s being really nice about it, but I think it bothers her that I got in to all those places when she didn’t.”

“Love, you can’t worry about that,” she reassures. “These kinds of things are out of your control.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nora concedes begrudgingly.

Sensing the need to move on, Olivia rises from the stool. “How about I make us some dinner?”

“Is that safe?” her sweet girl smirks.

With a playful glare, she retorts back, “I thought you wanted to be a neuroscientist—not a stand-up comic.”

Nora lets out a laugh. “I can do both. I’m very talented.”

As Olivia moves toward the cabinet in search of ingredients, she notices a smaller packet of papers on the counter, clearly emblazoned with the words Housing Application and the Columbia University logo.

“You missed this one,” she points out, raising it to show Nora.

Her sweet girl’s smile immediately drops, and she looks down, focusing intently on the papers in front of her. “No, I didn’t.”

“Don’t you need to fill this out to get a dorm?”

“That’s for people who want to live on campus. So I don’t need it.”

“Wait,” she says with a shake of her head. “You want to live at home?”

“Yes,” her sweet girl answers with an edge entering her voice.

“You don’t want to live on campus?”

“No, I don’t,” Nora snaps, moving from zero to sixty in less than ten seconds. “It makes more sense for me to live here. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

Olivia almost takes a step back as she’s hit with Nora’s sudden ire. “I’m just asking—”

“We don’t need to talk about it. I’ve already made up my mind.”

“Can we—”

“I’m not living on campus. So just drop it,” she grits before grabbing the paperwork, storming off to her room, and slamming the door closed.

++++++++++

“You want to tell me whatever it is that’s going on with Nora?” Elliot asks casually, a single hand on the steering wheel of the sedan as they drive to meet a witness.

“What makes you think something’s going on with Nora?” Olivia replies defensively.

“Well, you’ve been quiet since we left, and you’ve got that pinched look on your face that you only get when something’s going on with you two.”

“I do not have a pinched look.”

“Right,” he replies dryly. “That’s just your normal expression.”

Olivia rolls her eyes but relents. “Last night, we had a…well, fight doesn’t seem like the right word. We had a something. She was filling out some paperwork for Columbia, and she pretty much went off on me. I can’t call it a fight because she didn’t exactly let me get a word in.”

“What was she upset about?”

“She wants to live at home next year.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? Or at least the cheaper thing."

“If she wanted to do it to save money, then I might not have a problem with it. But I don’t think that’s why. Not with how she reacted when I brought it up.”

“You know there are about a million parents who would kill for their kids to want to keep living at home?”

Olivia replies with exasperation, “Her college roommate shouldn't be the same person who changed her diapers.”

“Don't you think you're exaggerating a little? Plenty of people live at home. It’s not unusual.”

“Well, her therapist thinks it’s a problem.”

“Her therapist thinks it’s a problem for her to save thousands of dollars by living at home?” he questions, eyebrow raised in skepticism.

“It’s not about college specifically,” she pushes back. “I talked to her a few weeks ago, and she shared her…concern…that Nora doesn’t seem to want to be independent.”

Elliot scoffs. “She’s the most independent kid I know.” 

“Not independent like you’re thinking. More like, she can’t separate herself from me. She’s been struggling so much the last few years, and I’ve let her lean on me.”

“You mean you’ve been her mom?” he counters.

“Her therapist is worried that she’s relying too much on that—on my help.”

“She’s your kid. You’re her parent. That’s how it works.”

“I’m supposed to teach her how to be an adult. Not shelter her to the point that she can’t function on her own.”

“Seriously?” he says wryly. “That girl functions just fine. She's the most responsible teenager I’ve ever known. She’s never been in any trouble. She takes care of herself. She does her own laundry. She cooks—better than you do, I might add. And she worked her butt off in school and got into an Ivy League college. She’s a better adult than either of us. A smarter one too.”

“I know,” Olivia sighs, running a hand through her hair. “But I also know that this has something to do with her anxiety. I don’t want her to give in to all these worries or to feel like she has to hide from her life.”

“Liv, if you think it’s important for her to live on campus, then tell her that. Your opinion matters to her. You just need to help her understand where you’re coming from. You guys—you’re good at the talking thing.”

“If that were true, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Hey, I didn’t say it would be easy. She’s a teenager—it’s gonna take some pushing on your part. But at the end of the day, she always comes to you.” He looks contemplative as he admits, “You know, I’ve always envied that—how close she is with you.”

The admission takes her by surprise. “What are you talking about? You’re close with your kids.”

“Not like you and Nora,” he disputes. “I don’t know if it’s a mom-daughter thing or if it’s because it was just the two of you for so long. But it’s something special.”

She’s completely taken aback by his assessment. Elliot is the best father she’s ever known. And he thinks her relationship with her child is something to be envied.  

“El, that’s…thank you,” she says quietly.

He gives her a soft smile. “You’re a good mom, Liv—always have been. You’ve just got to stop getting in your head so much about this kind of stuff.”

Olivia replies dryly, “She’s eighteen, so at the rate I’m going, I should have that down by the time she’s forty.”

Elliot chuckles and shrugs his shoulders. “Eh, better late than never.”

+++++++++

It feels almost like a repeat of the previous night. Olivia walks in the door, drops her bag. Nora’s sitting on the sofa, surrounded by work. Only this time, her sweet girl doesn’t look up. Doesn’t greet her. Doesn’t even acknowledge her when she slides next to her on the couch.  

“We need to talk,” Olivia starts, staring directly at her daughter.

“That’s a great way to start a conversation,” the girl mumbles.

“Nora,” she says firmly. “We need to talk about yesterday—about the housing stuff.”

She drops her pen and lets out an irritated breath. “I don’t want to argue about this.”

“Good. Because I don’t want to argue either. I just want you to hear me out.”

“Why do you want to make a thing out of this?”

“I don’t know how I could be making a thing about it. You didn’t even let me get two words in before you stormed out last night.”

“I didn’t want get into it.”

“Yeah, I’ve picked up on that. And that’s why I’m concerned.”

“I just know what you’re going to say. You think I should live on campus. But it’s not a big deal for me to live at home. You did.”

“Yes, I did,” she agrees. “And I don’t regret that. It was absolutely the right choice under the circumstances. But, it still changed my experience. College at your age should be about more than academics. It’s a chance for you to have a little independence, and I think that’s something you need.”

“And the way for me to achieve independence is to do what you say?”

Olivia sighs with exasperation, “Nora, it’s my job to protect you. And that includes protecting you from yourself.”

“What are you talking about?” she says with incredulity.

“It’s always been you and me, and I love that. You know I do. But it’s not going to be like that forever—and you shouldn’t want it to be. As much as I might want to deny it, you’re basically an adult. It’s okay for you to start having a life separate from me.”

“And I can only have my own life if I live in a dorm? What’s the difference if I have some rando roommate or if I live here?”

“I think you know there’s difference, or you wouldn’t be so defensive about this.”

“So you’re kicking me out?”

“Of course not,” Olivia says emphatically. “All I’m trying to say is that you should have a place separate from me.”

“That sounds like you’re kicking me out.”

She reaches over to grasp Nora’s hand. “My love, you will always have a home with me—no matter what. No matter how old you are—no matter what’s going on in your life. But you need to have the time and space to figure out who you are without me. And I couldn’t live with myself if you didn’t do that because you were scared to be on your own.”

“I’m not scared,” she scoffs.

Olivia gives her sweet girl a long, gentle look that cuts through her defenses. Nora squeezes her eyes shut before whispering, “I just can’t wake up in the middle of the night and not be able to breathe because I can’t see you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says firmly as she tucks Nora's hair behind her ear. “If you have a nightmare, then you just call me.”

“I can’t call you at three in the morning.”

“Yes. You can,” she says confidently. “You absolutely can.”

“What if you’re working? What if you don’t answer?”

“Then you call Elliot and tell him you need me.”

Nora seems to be considering the idea, but it’s obvious she’s still hesitating.

“Sweet girl—you can do this,” Olivia says with a gentle certainty. “You already have been—there’ve been plenty of nights in the last few years where I had to work. And you were fine. I promise—I wouldn’t be pushing this if I didn’t think it was important. I really want you to try. I think you need to try.”

“Am I still allowed to come home?” Nora asks with uncertainty.

“Always.”

“How often?”

“Whenever you want. I’d really like it if you stayed in your dorm at least a few nights a week or when you have early classes or if you’re doing something late on campus, but if you need to be home more than that, especially at first, I can live with that.”

“What about the money? It’s so much cheaper if I live here.”

“I don’t want you to worry about that—I will figure it out.”

“What if I hate it?”

“All I ask is that you try it for a year. You can see how it goes and reevaluate next year. If you hate it that much, then you can live here again.”

That seems to land—that she will be the one to decide. Not they.

“And you won’t give me crap if I’m still here a lot?”

“I’m going to encourage you not to be, but I will do my best not to give you crap about it.”

“Fine,” she relents with a begrudging sigh. “If it’s that important to you.”

“I don’t want you to do it for me. I want you to do it for yourself.”

“Can’t myself want to do it for you?” Nora groans. At her mom’s glare, she surrenders with a huff. “Alright, alright—I’ll try. But no promises.”

At that, Olivia can’t help but shake her head and laugh.

Chapter Text

They’re drowning in paperwork. And Cragen has said in no uncertain terms that the backlog has to be cleared by Christmas—which is now less than two days away. So Elliot and Olivia are hunkered down at their respective desks, hoping to plow through the mountain of DD5s and administrative nonsense they’ve managed to avoid until now.

It’s going on ten o’clock, and the bullpen’s empty and almost dark, save for the light from their desk lamps. Olivia lets her eyes drift to the man across her desk, who, for once, seems completely absorbed in his paperwork.

Things have been different lately. They go through the motions each day, just like always, but there’s a lingering tension between them. Like there’s something unspoken hanging in the air. It's been building ever since the day their victim’s attorney spilled Elliot’s personal life all over their captain’s office. Kathy was gone. Took the kids with her. And Elliot hadn’t even bothered to mention it.

It's been more than a month, and he’s still barely spoken about it—actually seems eager to avoid the subject altogether. And she lets him, trying not to think too hard on why the topic feels so taboo.

“I think I’m going to head out,” Olivia says, intentionally avoiding the words head home. “You coming?”

He shakes his head, barely looking up. “I’ll stick around. Try to get through a little more.”

“El, it’s late.”

“I know,” he dismisses. “I’ll head out in a bit.”

As Olivia pulls on her coat, she can’t shake her worries. That he’s not okay. That he’s drifting. That he’s alone. She wants to help, to offer him a hand, but she can’t quite figure out how to without him retreating even further. And then an idea crosses her mind.

“What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Kathy’s taking the kids to her sisters for the week. I’ll see ‘em at New Years,” he mutters.

His response gives her an indirect answer to her question.

“Spend Christmas with us.”

He finally looks up at her, seemingly caught off guard.

“Me and Nora,” she clarifies. “Come spend Christmas Day with us.”

“I don’t need a pity invite,” he brushes off before turning back to his work.

“You really think I’m asking you out of pity?” she replies, hurt in her voice.

He sighs, tightening his jaw in frustration at his own roughness. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just not the best company right now.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” she says so gently that it seems to startle him. “Just come, okay? I’ll worry about you if you don’t.”

He looks at her for a moment, like he’s actually considering her offer. Then, to her immense surprise, he asks, “What time do you want me there?”

++++++++++

“Happy Yuletide, Detective,” Nora greets when she opens the door.

“Nice antlers,” Elliot replies with a chuckle and a gesture toward the festive reindeer headband she’s wearing.

“Why thank you,” she says with a flourish. “They’re a Benson holiday staple."

“Really?” he says with amused interest. “Does that mean your mom has a pair too?”

“Hell, yeah,” Nora smirks as she takes his coat. “We’ve had them since I conned her into buying them from the corner store when I was five.”

Nora is apparently in charge of the cooking. As soon as the front door’s closed, she gestures for him to sit at the counter before handing him a few oranges to peel for the fruit salad. While she moves around the kitchen, preparing what looks like French toast and sausage, he takes a moment to look around the apartment.

The air smells like pine needles, and the obvious source is the small Christmas tree in the corner draped haphazardly with multi-colored lights and several dozen distinctive ornaments. It’s clear many of them are homemade—a gingerbread house made out of popsicle sticks, a cardboard picture frame that houses a photo of a young Nora wearing a Santa hat, and a handprint on construction paper that’s been made to look like a reindeer. Amongst those, there’s a number of obviously store-bought ornaments. But they all still seem personal—a little glass police badge, a ceramic stack of library books, and a wooden medallion with the Columbia University logo on it.

There’s two stockings hanging from the bookshelf—both red felt with white trim and the names Nora and Livie painted in glitter. Above them, there’s a row of little snowmen that appear to be made out of children’s socks, complete with little twig arms and yarn top hats, along with a Santa and an elf made from toilet paper rolls.

It’s homey. And it feels intimate somehow, that Olivia’s let him into her space like this. That she’s let him be part of something that seems so special. Something that’s between her and the person she loves most.

He looks to said person as he adds the now peeled oranges to the proffered fruit bowl.  

“So, what exactly is on the agenda for today?”

“Livie didn’t tell you?” Nora grins with excitement. “Well, buckle up. You’re in for a fun-filled day of traditions.”

Elliot chuckles, “What kind of traditions?”

“First, we’ll enjoy the delicious breakfast slash brunch slash lunch you see being prepared before your very eyes. Then, we’ll open presents and watch a movie—usually It’s a Wonderful Life—followed by various holiday specials—A Charlie Brown Christmas and The Grinch Who Stole Christmas and what have you. You’ll have the choice of hot chocolate or cider during the movie viewing. Or, if you’re like Livie and have horrible taste—eggnog.”

“What’s wrong with eggnog?” he asks, mildly offended.

“Ugh, of course you like it. I should have known.”

“It’s delicious.”

“It’s like drinking thick spoiled cheese milk.”

“Have you ever even tried it?”

“Yes. And it’s a hard pass from me. But you’re welcome to join my mom in getting salmonella.”

Again, he can't help but laugh.

“What comes after the movies?”

“Oh, one of the highlights of the day. We will be playing a very intense, competitive, and cutthroat game of Clue,” she says dramatically. “And the winner gets bragging rights through New Years.”

“I’ve never heard Liv mention that.”

“That’s because she hasn’t had bragging rights in about thirteen years. I’m the reigning champ. Which, she will never admit completely infuriates her. Since I started college, we’ve also added the rule that the loser has to go pick up dinner.”

“Let me guess—Chinese?”

“It’s Christmas in New York. Is there any other option?” she jokes. “When Livie gets home with the food, since she’s inevitably the one who will be forced to go out into the cold to get it, we’ll stuff ourselves with Kung Pao chicken and sweet and sour pork before passing out on the sofa.”

“Sounds like an action-packed day.”

“It will be quite the experience,” she confirms with exuberance as she places the last of the food on the counter.

“Okay,” Nora nods, eyeing the spread. “I think we’re ready.”

She holds up a finger signaling him to wait before walking over to one of the closed bedroom doors and, in a louder than normal voice, saying, “If Livie could ever finished getting dressed.”

Less than twenty seconds later, the door’s swung open by his partner who’s sporting a pointed, but half-hearted glare.

She seems softer than usual, wearing a cream-colored sweater and jeans with her feet bare. It feels almost like a privilege, seeing her look so comfortable and at home.

He realizes he must be staring when he hears Nora clear her throat and hand him a plate. Olivia doesn’t acknowledge his gawking. And Elliot doesn’t acknowledge the fleetingly raised eyebrow Nora shoots his way.

+++++++++++

“Colonel Mustard. In the conservatory. With the rope.”

“How do you do that?” Olivia says with irritated bewilderment.

“With a top-notch analytical mind and keen observational skills,” Nora smirks. “Now that you’ve lost—again—I think you know what this means.”

“Yes,” she sighs. “I will order and pick up the food. Just try not to be so smug about it.”

“Don’t worry,” the young woman replies, as she turns to Elliot. “You’ll have some company on the journey.”

“Nora, he’s a guest. We’re not forcing him to go out in the cold to get you Chinese food.”

“Loser gets the food,” Elliot points out. “Rules are rules, Liv. I’m not going to be responsible for breaking tradition.”

“That’s not a tradition. She only talked me into that a couple of years ago.”

“Well, then, I’m not going to be responsible for stopping it from becoming a tradition.”

“See,” Nora nods, clearly pleased. “He gets it.”

Olivia rolls her eyes at her daughter before turning to him. “You really don’t have to come.”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs. “Might be nice to burn a little of the eggnog off before I pile on fried rice.”

While she moves to the kitchen to call in their order, Nora sets about cleaning up their game.

“She didn’t mean that, you know,” she says quietly, not looking up from her task and clearly trying not to be overheard by his partner.

“Mean what?” Elliot asks, keeping his voice similarly low.

“That you’re a guest.” She looks up, eyes boring into him and a knowingly certain look on her face. “You’re not a guest.”

++++++++++

Despite the temperature being below freezing, Elliot feels oddly warm on the trek to the Chinese restaurant, forgoing a scarf and opting to shove his hands in his pockets instead of wearing gloves.

“I didn’t know you guys were so big on traditions,” he comments.

“Yeah. It’s always been important to me to give that to her at the holidays. I certainly didn’t have it. My mother had her ups and downs, but Christmas was almost always a down. We had one or two good holidays before Nora was born but definitely no traditions.”

“Is there a story behind them?"

“When she was a baby, there wasn’t much I could do to celebrate. I was a teenager, so the best I could manage was making sure we could be somewhere other than our apartment. Mrs. Abelman would let us hide out with her.”

“Mrs. Abelman—that’s the woman who came to her adoption party?”

Olivia nods. “She’s Jewish, but she still always tried to do something for us. She’d get us both a little gift and treat us to dinner. That’s where the Chinese food tradition came in.”

“And the movie marathon?”

“We’d do presents first thing, which didn’t take long because, in those early years, I just didn’t have the money to give her more than a few little things. But there was usually something on TV, or I could swing renting a video. The board games came when she was a little older. We used to play a few different ones, but when I started the academy, she began insisting it could only be Clue.”

Olivia gives him a contemplative smile, “You know, I always thought I was letting her down because I couldn’t give her the big traditional family holiday. It wasn’t until she was older that I realized how much she loved the way we do things.”

“It’s funny how that stuff works. Some of the things that feel like parenting failures end up being their happiest memories,” he reflects. “Once, before Lizzie and Dickie were born, Kathy was laid up with the flu for almost a week, so I was in charge. By day five, I was barely holding it together—probably because I was starting to get sick too. It was dinner time, and we were out of almost everything. Except ice cream. So, I let the girls have ice cream for dinner. I felt like I had completely dropped the ball. And then a couple of years ago, they told me that was one of their favorite things we ever did together.”

At the mention of Maureen and Katie, his face turns melancholy.

“I’m sorry,” she says empathically.

“For what?”

“That you don’t get to be with your kids today. That you’re just with us.”

He looks almost wounded at her assessment. “There’s no just about it, Liv.”

++++++++++

When they reach their destination, which is nothing more than a closet-sized storefront, there are at least fifteen customers packed inside. Olivia manages to push her way in, only to learn their order won’t be ready for another ten minutes. Unable to bear the stifling, cramped space, the partners opt to pass the wait outside.

“I really am glad you invited me,” he says as he leans against the wall near the front door. “It’s been nice—being with you and Nor. Definitely better than what I had planned.”

“Good,” she replies, almost shyly.

He shuffles a little, suddenly seeming uncomfortable. “Listen, uh, I know we did the whole present thing earlier, but I actually got you something else.”

Olivia chuckles. “But I loved my present. The poor little chocolate Santa with his head broken off.”

“I told you—his head was fully attached when I bought him,” he defends, eliciting another lovely laugh.

“But seriously, I wanted to give you this,” he mumbles, handing over a small, unwrapped box from his coat pocket.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything else.”

“I know,” he says. “But I wanted to.”

“Should I open it?” she asks hesitantly, uncertain of why he seems so apprehensive.

His demeanor shifts at her tone. “What else are you gonna do with it?” he lightly replies.

Olivia relaxes at that and lifts the lid before staring, speechless, at what’s inside.

"El," she whispers. "It’s…it’s beautiful.”

A simple necklace. Just a thin gold chain with a pendant on the end—an infinity symbol less than half an inch long.

“It’s nothing fancy,” he downplays. “I just, I don’t know. I saw it, and I thought of you.”

“Thank you, I love it,” Olivia says sincerely. She lifts it out of the box and hands it to him. “Help me put it on?”

She turns away from him, pushing her hair away to give him access as he inches closer to her and puts the chain in place. Before clasping it, he lets his fingers ghost over the back of her neck, and she feels her breath catch. His hand lingers for a moment, like he’s uncertain whether to come closer or pull away.

When she turns to look back at him, the door to the restaurant opens, letting out an audible ding from the bell on the frame.

And the moment is broken.

Chapter Text

His words are on a loop in her head.

How could you let him get so close to you?

I can't do this anymore. I can't be looking over my shoulder making sure you're okay.

I need to know you can do your job and not wait for me to come to your rescue.

At first, his accusations make her blood boil. The audacity of this man to blame her for his choices. To blame her for the actions of a sociopath.

But then it’s her turn. And she makes the same choice.

And his next words don’t bring anger. They just bring hurt.

Look, we both chose each other over the job. I'll never let that happen again. Otherwise...we can't be partners.

You and this job are the only things I've got anymore. I don't wanna wreck that. Couldn't take it.

++++++++++

She had dinner plans with Nora almost a week ago. But then Rebecca and Ryan and Gitano had happened. So the plans kept getting pushed. But even now that it’s over, Olivia wants to be selfish and cancel again. The idea of having to be around anyone, even Nora, feels like too much. But she knows that her daughter heard the exhaustion in her voice each time she’d been forced to postpone. And she knows that the cut to her throat is putting Nora on edge.

So she puts her pain aside. Because her sweet girl needs to see her.

The minute Nora walks in to the apartment, her eyes go to the bandage on Olivia’s neck, and tears start to build in her eyes. In an instant, her girl is wrapped around her, squeezing tight, almost like she’s making sure her mom is really there.  

“I’m okay, my love,” Olivia reassures, stroking her daughter’s hair.

“But you almost weren’t,” Nora whispers as she pulls back and wipes at her tears. But she gathers herself and exhales, “You are though. That’s all that matters. That’s all I need to think about. You're here now. And you're okay."

“I am—I promise I am.”

Nora dishes out the food, and they curl up together on the sofa like always. Olivia asks about school, and they talk about graduation, which is now just a month away. They talk about her summer plans and how relieved she is that she's finally settled on a Ph.D. program.

To anyone observing their exchange, Nora would seem calm. But the frequent looks and occasional deep inhales tell Olivia otherwise. Nora’s anxiety has been better in recent years, but it’s still there. Always lingering in the background waiting for a reason to reemerge. And knowing her mom’s throat had been slashed, even superficially, is a prime opportunity.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Nora says quietly, poking at her pasta.

“Do what?”

“Search my face like that. I’m not going to have a panic attack.”

“I wasn’t,” she immediately replies, which her daughter obviously doesn’t believe. “I…I just don’t want this to be triggering for you.”

“It’s not the first time we’ve been here, and it probably won’t be the last. But I’ve got it under control. I didn’t even need to see you right away this time.”

This time. That brings on the guilt—that her sweet girl’s just adding this incident to a running list that she doesn't expect will end.

“I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry this keeps happening.”

“I know,” she replies, ducking her head. “But, if I’m being honest, the cut doesn’t worry me as much as whatever’s going on in your head right now.”

“I’m fine,” Olivia says out of habit, which earns her a knowing look from her daughter. “Okay, I’m not fine. But I will be. This case—it’s just been a hard few days.”

“It’s more than that. Did something happen? Did you and Elliot have a fight or something?" Nora presses.

“Why would you ask that?” she questions, taken aback and slightly annoyed at Nora’s uncanny ability to read her like an open book.

“Because you’ve had plenty of hard days. But this feels different. You seem…like you’re somewhere else.”

Olivia leans her head back on the sofa and squeezes her eyes shut, debating whether to answer—or whether it’s okay for Nora to even hear it. But her daughter isn’t a child anymore. And she realizes that she needs her to hear it.

“He…we,” she corrects herself. “We both made a mistake, and a child died. And another almost did. And Elliot—he…he blames me.”

Nora gives her soft look of understanding, like she knows without further explanation what's happened. “Whatever he said, it’s not how he really feels.”

Olivia lets out a single, pained laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m not so sure about that.”

“I am,” her sweet girl says with loving certainty. “Whatever happened, it probably has something to do with that cut on your neck. My guess is that he thought you were seriously hurt—or maybe even that you were dying. I’d bet my life that if he thought that, then he was scared. And for all his wonderful qualities, his fear seems to come out as anger.”

“I wasn’t dying,” she says firmly, both in response and as reassurance.

“Did he know that?” her daughter says with a searching look.

She can’t let herself contemplate where Nora is headed with this. What it would mean that Elliot would be so afraid of her dying that he’d risk a child’s life.

So she deflects.

“Even if he didn’t mean it, I’m not sure if we can come back from what he said.”

“It was that bad?”

“Yes,” she says quietly. “I don’t…I’m not sure if things can ever be the same.”

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Relationships change. They grow. They…evolve.”

“We’re partners,” she says back, as though that’s a logical reply to her daughter’s words.

Nora tilts her head in genuine curiosity and asks, “Are you?”

“Yes,” Olivia replies firmly, almost like a warning.

Her sweet girl just nods. Seems to accept that she shouldn’t push any further down that road.

“So, what are you going to do? About the fight?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she says distantly. “But it’s made me realize…it’s just getting too hard.”

“What is?”

“Everything.”

A look of dawning realization crosses Nora’s face as she says in quiet disbelief, “You’re thinking about leaving.”

Hearing it out loud for the first time makes it hard to breathe.

“I just...I don’t know if I can do it anymore. I don’t know if I should do it anymore.”

Olivia expects an immediate reply, but instead, Nora studies her intently for a moment before saying, “I want to show you something.”

Somewhat thrown, she watches as her daughter crosses the room to her school bag and pulls out a thick black folder. Swiftly rejoining her on the sofa, Nora grips it to her chest as she continues.

“This is the final version of my senior thesis. I’m meeting with my advisor tomorrow morning to turn it in before it gets published in the undergrad journal. I didn’t want to show it to you until that happened, but…I think it’s important for you to see it now.”

Still confused at the abrupt turn in the conversation, she gives Nora a questioning look as she hands over the folder. The cover is made of a clear plastic through which the title page is easily visible. As Olivia looks at it, she once again finds it difficult to breathe, just as she had a moment before. But this time, for an entirely different reason.

A Survey of Neurobiologically Motivated Treatments for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder in Victims of Sexual Assault

An Honors Thesis Presented by  

Nora Benson  

To the Department of Psychology  

In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements  

For the Degree of Bachelor of Arts  

With Honors in the Subject of Neuroscience and Behavior

Columbia University  

New York, New York  

May 2006

For more than a few minutes, Olivia just stares. Rereads the words over and over trying to process their meaning. And there are so many words to process. Her daughter’s name under the words honors thesis. That what she holds in her hand is one of the final steps before her sweet girl is a college graduate.

But the title. That’s almost incomprehensible.

“You…you said you were writing about PTSD. You never said…”

“I know,” Nora replies, knowing where her trailed off sentence was headed. “I’m not sure why, but I just had this feeling that I should wait to tell you. And I’m glad I did. Because I think there’s a reason you’re supposed to hear it now.”

Olivia just looks at her and waits for more.

“I’ve been exploring all these different specializations since I started college—trying to figure out what I’m most passionate about. And this is it. Trauma, PTSD—especially as it relates to survivors of sexual assault or abuse—that’s going to be the focus of my doctoral research and, if everything goes as planned, it’s going to be the focus of my entire career.”

Nora gives her a fierce, determined look. “I’ve known for a while now that this is what I’m supposed to be doing. And I want you to know that this path—my research—I’m doing it because of you. You are why this matters to me. You are why I know what it feels like to have a calling—to have a purpose. I would fight like hell before I ever gave that up. And so should you. What you do—that’s your purpose. Nothing is more important than that. Not even Elliot.”

Chapter Text

He only lasts a week. One week of wondering. One week of annoying the hell out of Cragen asking where she is, when she’d be back, when he could talk to her. He’s tried calling a dozen times, but he gets the same out of service message each time. And each time it eats away at him a little more.

Elliot feels more than a little pathetic, sitting on the steps outside of her apartment. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a small part of him that hopes if he waits long enough, he’ll see her walking down the street. But the more realistic part of him hopes to see her better half.

After more than an hour, he starts thinking of throwing the towel in, but he keeps telling himself to give it one more minute. And another minute. And another. He gets so caught up in checking his watch, that he doesn’t even notice the movement to his left.

“Took you longer than I thought,” a warm voice says. “I figured you’d be here by the end of the first day.”

“I thought about it,” he admits quietly as he looks at his partner’s daughter.

She gives him a look of sincere sympathy. “I can’t tell you anything. And, even if I could, I don’t actually know anything to tell.”

“But you’ve talked to her?” he confirms.

“Yeah,” she answers gently. “I’ve talked to her.”

“Is she—”

“She’s okay,” Nora assures.

“Do you know when she’s coming back?”

“No,” she replies with regret. “I really do wish I could tell you more. But I honestly don’t know specifics.”

“Right, right,” he nods. “No, I get it.”

He rubs his brow, internally chastising himself for thinking that coming here was a good idea. “I’m sorry, Nor. I shouldn’t have just showed up like this. I’ll get out of your way.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply. Just moves hastily toward where he parked the car. But then he hears her voice over his shoulder.

“Hey—Elliot,” she calls, waiting for him to turn back. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat.”

“Me too,” she smiles. “But only if you’re buying.”

Twenty minutes later, they’re sitting together in a pizza place a few blocks away. At first, it feels nice—the idea of spending time with Nora like this again. He’s seen her off and on since she started college, but it’s much less frequent than it had been before. But the longer they sit, the more unsure of himself he feels, like he’s forgotten how to have a conversation with the girl—young woman—that he’s known for more than ten years.

“So…how are things with school?” he starts hesitantly. “You liking the Ph.D. program?”

“I’m loving it—I wasn’t sure about staying at Columbia, but it was definitely the right choice.”

“Were you, uh, coming from class before?” he asks, pointing to the overstuffed messenger bag in the chair next to her.

“Yeah,” she smirks, amused at his awkwardness. “Fundamentals of Human Neuroimaging.”

“That’s…that sounds…exciting.”

“It is exciting,” she confirms, acting as though his enthusiasm rivaled her own. “You know, I didn’t realize you were also interested in the use of computational techniques to study the structure and function of the central nervous system.”

Elliot just gives her a blank look.

“MRIs,” she smirks. “It’s about how MRIs work.”

He chuckles. “You’re too smart for me kiddo.”

“I just have a different kind of smarts.”

“Liv told me you’re doing that combined program, right?”

“Yep—master’s of science in biomedical imaging and Ph.D. in neurobiology and behavior. Which basically just means I’m going to be in school until I die.”

Again, he chuckles. “And you, uh, you still doing the research about PTSD and assault?”

“That’s the plan.”

“You know, she’s really proud of you for that—your mom. That you’d want to research something that means so much to her. Not that she wouldn’t be proud of whatever you did, but it’s a big deal for her.”

Nora gives him her usual humble smile.

“I’m proud of you too, for what it’s worth,” he adds quickly.

“It’s worth a lot,” she says sincerely.

Her expression is kind and genuine. But it suddenly strikes him how familiar it is—like it’s something he’s seen every day. And then it hits him that he has.

“You okay?” Nora asks lightly. “You seem like you spaced out there for a second.”

“I just…you look like her,” he replies, hoping he doesn’t sound too amazed. “I mean, you always have, but I guess I just see more and more of her in you. Probably because you’re so grown up now.”

“And yet you still call me kiddo,” she replies pointedly.

“I’ll be sixty, and I’ll still do that,” he grins. “Just hard to believe you’re an adult.”

“You know, it looked like it actually hurt a little for you to say that. Is that just because if I’m getting older than that means you’re really old?”

“I’ll give you twenty bucks to say that to your mom.”

“Oh, please—when you’re sixty and still calling me kiddo, she’ll still be a knockout.”

Elliot can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, kiddo, you’re probably right about that.”

+++++++++++

It’s been three weeks since their dinner, and Elliot’s had more than a few moments where he’s tempted to call Nora—just to check in. Or at least that’s what he tells himself. It’s certainly not because if he can’t be around Olivia, then she’s the next best thing.

But, per usual, he lets himself get caught up in work. In the day-to-day grind. And maybe even a little in Dani Beck. On this particular evening, the two of them have been running down leads on their latest case and getting nowhere for their efforts. It’s been more than a few hours since their shift ended, but neither of them is ready to quit.

They’re at the sedan—him on the driver side and her across from him, hand on the passenger door. They’re debating where to go from there, what the best chance is of getting something to go on before the night is over.

And then there’s a call.

“Hello,” he says absently as he answers the phone, still looking across the car at Dani.

“Hello—is this Elliot Stabler?” a professional voice says.

“Yeah,” he replies, suddenly on high alert. “That’s me.”

“My name is Taylor Williamson. I’m a nurse at New York-Presbyterian—I’m calling about Nora Benson—”

“What?” Elliot rushes. “Is she okay?”

The woman’s tone stays annoying neutral. “She was admitted to the E.R. a few hours ago. She has a mild concussion and a fracture to her right wrist, but overall, she’s alright and we’re ready to discharge her. I asked if there was anyone who could take her home and monitor her overnight and she asked me to call you.”

“Oh, uh, yeah—I can come get her,” he replies in complete surprise. “You said New York-Presbyterian?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

He suppresses the urge to use the siren as he drives, but Dani’s concerned expression holds him back. So he settles for pushing just over the line of safe driving practice.

When he parks, he barely notices that Dani’s following him as he heads briskly through the automatic doors. He almost snaps at the charge nurse when he asks where Nora is and she holds up a finger telling him to wait, but the poor woman is saved when he spots his partner’s daughter in one of the nearby patient bays.

“What the hell happened?” he asks the minute he reaches her.

She gives him a halfhearted glare and a raised eyebrow. “Hi Elliot. It’s nice to see you too.”

“Nora,” he repeats more firmly. “What the hell happened?”

“I’m an idiot, that’s what happened,” she replies. “I’m on this new SSRI, and one of the side effects is dizziness—which I’ve been experiencing. And, like the genius that I am, I decided to carry this huge box down the stairs because the elevator was out. Long story short, I got dizzy, tripped over my own feet, and, well, here we are.”

“They said you have a concussion.”

“A mild concussion,” Nora corrects.

“Kiddo, your brain hit the inside of your skull. Let’s not argue over how hard.”

“I’m a neuroscientist—degrees of brain hitting matter.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a dad. And I say, no, they don’t.”

Nora tucks in her playful attitude. “El, I’m fine. I swear.”

He looks at her skeptically but decides not to push further. “They said you need me to take you home?”

“Yeah—and monitor me overnight. I’d normally have Livie do it, but that’s obviously not an option at the moment. It might be my addled brain, but I couldn’t think of who else to call.”

“Me—always,” he insists. “Did you call your mom too though? Just to let her know?”

“You know I have no way of doing that.”

“You don’t have any way of getting in touch? Not even with her case agent?”

“I have one number,” she admits. “But I’m only supposed to use it in an emergency. This is definitely not an emergency, and I don’t feel like being told that by an FBI agent.”

“Who are you more scared of—the feds or your mom when she gets back and finds out you were in the hospital and didn’t call?”

“You make a compelling argument,” Nora concedes. “Fine, I’ll call the number on the way home.”

It’s only then that she notices that Elliot hasn’t come alone.

“Seems you brought a friend?” she questions, eyeing the blonde hovering nearby.

“Oh, uh—this is Dani Beck,” he stumbles. “She’s my…she’s working with me. While your mom’s away.”

His colleague’s face falters for a second at the qualifier, but she manages a half-smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Nora says kindly. “I hope I didn’t pull you guys away from anything.”

“Definitely not,” Elliot lies.

Nora gives him a knowing look before turning to his temporary partner. “Are you willing to corroborate that story, Detective Beck?”

Dani hesitates, but seeing the look on Elliot’s face, answers, “Oh, well, we were actually about to wrap up for the night.”

“Yeah, sure you were,” she replies, clearly not buying it.

“Let’s just get you home, okay?” the man says with a cut-it-out glare.

Within thirty minutes, Nora is discharged, and they’re on their way home, with Dani offering to take the subway. Elliot helps her upstairs and rereads the doctor’s instructions three times while Nora changes into pajamas. She makes her way to the couch, trying and failing multiple times to tie her hair back with her good hand.

“Okay, I can’t watch this,” he finally says, confiscating the brush and hair elastic.

“What are you doing?”

“You trying to put it in a ponytail?” he asks, ignoring her question.

“Yeah,” she replies slowly.

“You want it low or in the middle?”

“Low.”

In less than a second, he’s brushing her hair, gathering it in his hand, and wrapping it in the aforementioned elastic.

“You know, I forget sometimes that you’re a girl dad.”

“Ponytails are the least of my skills. I’ll have you know I can do a mean French braid,” he retorts, earning him a deep laugh.

They have a quick dinner, with him taking the spot that he knows Olivia usually claims. Nora’s barely half-way through her peanut butter and jelly sandwich when she falls asleep, curled into the corner of the couch. He covers her with a blanket and sets an alarm to wake her up in three hours, although he knows it’s unlikely he’ll need it since he won’t be sleeping anytime soon.

By five a.m., he’s making coffee in the kitchen, knowing he’ll need it after his night of no sleep and worry. As he pours his first cup, Nora’s phone starts to ring from its place on the coffee table, jolting her awake.  

“Hello,” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes as she answers it. “Livie....whoa, whoa, slow down…I’m fine…mom …mom…I’m fine…I…yes, I did fall, but…a concussion and small fracture…are you going to let me get a word in?”

She looks over at him with an eye roll and a shake of her head.

“I swear, it’s only a mild concussion…are you and Elliot exchanging talking points? He said almost the exact same thing…he knows because he’s here…yeah, he picked me up from the hospital and then he stayed over…yes, he woke me every three hours…I promise, he followed the discharge instructions exactly…he’s…,” she sighs with exasperation before holding the phone to her chest.

With a knowing look, Nora passes the device to him. “Someone would like to talk to you.”

Olivia must hear his breath because before he can even say hello her voice fills his ear.

“Is she really okay?” his partner rushes.

“Yeah, she’s fine. Bit of a headache, but she’s okay.”

“But you’re sure? She’s not just putting on a brave face?”

“I’m sure,” he assures. “I’ve been with her all night, and she’s not that good of an actress.”

“But—"

“Liv, I swear on my life—she’s completely fine.”

“Okay, okay—that’s good. As long as she’s okay,” she replies, although he can tell she’s saying it more to convince herself than as an indication of acceptance that his statements are true.

He wants to say more. Say how good it is to hear her voice, even under the circumstances. Say how much he misses her. How much he wants her to come home. But he doesn’t get the chance.

“I have to go,” she says, almost reluctantly. “But…thank you. It means…”

“Yeah, I know,” he says quietly.

And he hands the phone back to Nora without another word.

Chapter Text

The last few months have been an industrial sized dumpster fire.

Simon.

Darius.

Her career almost going up in flames.

The cherry on top though comes when Olivia walks through her front door after several grueling hours at IAB, sees Nora packing a suitcase, and remembers that, not only is she now suspended, but she’ll be spending that time alone. She’d been excited for Nora when she’d announced a few months ago that she’d been awarded a research grant and would be spending her summer at University College, London. But the excitement is rapidly waning.

“How’d it go?” Nora asks, looking up from the sofa where she’s meticulously folding clothes to place in her bag.

“About as good as I could hope for.”

“So, one step below a root canal?”

“At least there’s a health benefit to a root canal,” she sighs as she rubs her forehead and joins Nora on the couch.

“They say what’s going to happen?”

“Suspended—three weeks without pay.”

“Starting when?”

“Today.”

Nora’s face drops. “Shit. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I know,” Olivia answers, equally disappointed but trying not to show it.

“I don’t like the idea of you just sitting around here all by yourself.”

“I appreciate that, but I’ll be fine.”

Her daughter looks at her for a moment before reaching over to open her laptop and typing intently.

“Sorry—just thought of something I wanted to make a note of,” she explains. “So what are you going to do for three weeks?”

“I don’t know. Sleep. Relax. Something.”

Without even looking up from the computer, Nora smirks, “Do you even know how to relax?”

“Yes,” Olivia replies with slight offense.

“I’ve known you more than twenty years. I don’t ever recall you relaxing.”

“Well, maybe I’ll use the next three weeks to learn.”

“I actually have an idea of what might help with that,” her daughter says as she closes the laptop lid and walks over to grab something off the small printer they keep on the corner bookshelf. With a proud, but subdued grin, Nora hands her the still warm piece of paper that’s hot off the press.

“What is this?”

“It’s a plane ticket.”

“And…why does it have my name on it?”

“Because you’re coming with me to London,” Nora says matter-of-factly.

Olivia huffs, “No, I’m not.”

Her daughter raises an eyebrow and tilts her head. “You’re suspended for three weeks—what else are you going to do? Sit here and wallow?”

“Nora, I can’t go to England with you.”

“Really? Because the plane ticket you’re holding would suggest otherwise.”

“You’re serious?” Olivia asks as it slowly sinks in that this isn’t some kind of joke.

“As a heart attack,” Nora replies. “We’ve always talked about going to Europe. This is the perfect time.”

“Aren’t you going to be working?”

“For part of the time. But I always planned to do the whole tourist thing too. When I’m working, you can wander on your own and go to all the places I wouldn’t want to, and then when I’m off, we can do things together. Accommodations are all taken care of—I’ve got a place lined up, and there’s plenty of space for you too. I’m going for four weeks total, but you can just fly back ahead of me when your suspension’s over.”

It’s clear Olivia’s starting to actually contemplate the idea, so Nora goes in for the kill.

“Come on—it’ll be fun,” she begs. “Plus, I won’t end up working the whole time if you’re there. So, if you come, you’re really just making sure that I get an actual vacation—which I desperately need. And god knows you do too.”

Which is how Olivia finds herself unexpectedly on a plane to London.

++++++++++

“How on earth are you affording this?” Olivia asks, jaw dropped as they walk into what might be one of the beautiful apartments she’s ever seen. The two-story windows offer a gorgeous view of Central London, and she finds herself completely transfixed.

“I’m not,” Nora snorts. “It belongs to a friend.”

“Who are you friends with that has a penthouse apartment in London?” she asks with incredulity.

“Isabella—I’ve told you about her. She’s in my program too. Anyway, her dad has some high up position at the U.N., but he and the rest of her family are going to be in New York this summer. So, they generously offered to let me stay here since nobody will be around. Which definitely sounded more appealing than whatever hovel my grant would cover.”

“And they don’t mind that I’m here too?”

“They wouldn’t mind if I brought a whole basketball team, as long as I leave everything the way I found it.”

As she turns back to the illuminated city, Olivia decides not to argue the point any further.

It takes only a day for them to fall into a routine. While Nora’s at work, Olivia follows her daughter’s advice and wanders aimlessly, walking through the streets of London with no particular destination in mind. She sits at a café each morning, drinking coffee and watching people pass by on their way to work. Then she strolls through the green squares dropped throughout the city, enjoying what are apparently the few sunny days of the year. By noon, she makes her way to the university or Great Ormond Street Hospital—wherever Nora happens to be that particular day. They eat lunch together and venture off to one place or another—the Tower of London, the British Museum, Hyde Park, the London Eye, Westminster Abbey—places she’d only ever dreamed of seeing.

The best part of all though is just spending time with her daughter. They talk for hours about anything and everything. She listens, enraptured, as Nora tells her about the work she’s doing, about things that have happened over the past year that Olivia had been too preoccupied to hear about. And she laughs with her sweet girl, deeper and harder than she can remember doing in ages.

The time feels precious. Which is likely why it passes so quickly. And before they both know it, they’re eating dinner together on her last night in the city.

“So,” her daughter says. “Aren’t you glad you came?”

“Very glad.”

“Almost makes getting suspended worth it, right?” she says with a playful smile. “But maybe next time when you need a break, you should just use vacation days instead of committing a felony.”

At another time, the joke might have stung, but in this moment, it lands just right and she laughs.

“I’m just saying,” Nora grins. “Seems like a lot less paperwork.”

“Sadly, it’s probably about the same amount.”

“Yeesh. Doesn’t the NYPD know that people who carry guns need some rest and relaxation every once in a while?”

“I don’t think that memo has made it up to the brass, unfortunately.”

“They must be slow learners.”

“That’s probably the understatement of the century,” she chuckles.

“You ready to go back?”

“Three weeks ago, I would have said yes. But, now, it feels a little mixed if I’m being honest.”  

“Makes complete sense—I’m much more fun than your job.”

“I take back what I said before—that is the understatement of the century.”

They keep bantering back and forth through an appetizer and entrees. And Olivia soaks up every second. It feels surreal. Sitting here with Nora in the early evening, sipping wine and looking out onto the Thames. There’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

Until Nora casually says between bites, “I’ve been emailing with Maureen off and on. She told me the news—that Kathy and Elliot are back together.”

Olivia nods, hoping she seems equally neutral. “I bet she’s happy—I’m sure all the kids are.”

“She told me about the other part too. About why they’re back together.” Nora hesitantly adds, “Are you doing okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she brushes off.

“I guess…I don’t know,” her sweet girl shrugs. “I’m not sure what I thought.”

Olivia takes a large sip from her wine glass. “This is what was always going to happen. Kathy’s his wife. He was always going to go back.”

“He almost didn’t though.”

“She’s his wife,” Olivia repeats. “She’s who he’s supposed to be with.”

“Or maybe she’s just familiar.”

“That’s not a bad thing. Not if she’s what he wants. He loves her.”

Nora studies her face, holding eye contact as she says, “It’s possible for someone to feel two things at once.”

“He’s married,” she replies firmly, stiffening as she realizes the implications of that reply.

“Yes,” her daughter says with a soft, knowing look. “But being married doesn’t stop a person from loving someone else.”

The look feels like a knife to her chest. And it hurts so much that she has to look away. Nora’s pushed down this road before but never so blatantly. Never to the point that Olivia felt certain that she actually knew.

She wants desperately to play dumb. Or even ignore it altogether. But each of those options seems unlikely to bring the conversation to a close. So she says the only thing she can think of that will.

“Nora, I…I can’t,” Olivia mumbles, her voice trembling slightly as she stumbles over her words. “I just…I can’t go there. Can you…can you accept that?"

“Yeah,” she nods, a sad, understanding expression on her face. “I can do that.”

A silence hangs between them for a moment, and she thinks that neither of them know what to say next. But as she has done time and again, Nora defies all.

“Livie,” her daughter starts quietly. “I love you more than ice cream.”

The words make Olivia melt—throwing her back almost fifteen years to a tear-filled night of reassurances and hugs. And she’s eternally grateful that her response requires no additional thought.

“Well, sweet girl, I love you more than chocolate.”

Chapter Text

It’s Thursday. Which means group therapy. Which she’s been dreading all day—all week if she’s being honest. She knows she needs it. Knows every time she spaces out or someone bumps her the wrong way. Knows every time she sits in front of the T.V. until four a.m. despite being completely exhausted.

But she mostly knows because lately, Nora’s been staying more nights than not across town with her old friend Mia. And she feels grateful for it. She feels overwhelmingly and abundantly grateful that she’s barely seen her sweet girl.

“You heading out?” Elliot asks, watching Olivia mindlessly grab her bag from the bottom desk drawer.

“Yeah. It’s getting late, and I’ve got a thing.”

“A thing?” he questions with a chuckle.

“Mmhmm,” she nods, completely missing his amusement.

Before she can put her jacket on, an unexpected face appears at the entrance to the bullpen.

“Hey,” Nora greets with a warm smile.

“What are you doing here?” Olivia asks, slightly rushed.

Her daughter must pick up on the odd reaction because the smile drops and she’s suddenly hesitant. “I haven’t really seen you in a few days, so I thought I’d come by. Is that not okay?”

“No, no,” she dismisses. “I just…I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I’m sorry—I should have called. I should have given you more warning."

The response would normally strike her as odd, that Nora would think she needed a warning, but she's in no place to think harder about it.

“You don’t need to call—I always want to see you,” Olivia lies. “You know that.”

“Sure,” Nora answers skeptically. “Anyway, I was thinking, if you have time, maybe we could grab dinner?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t tonight,” she says briskly as she whips on her jacket, the question causing an immediate tension in her body.

“Not even something quick?”

“I really can’t,” she replies stiffly. “I have something I need to do.”

“For work?’’

“Of course for work,” Olivia scoffs somewhat harshly. Elliot shoots her a subtle, questioning look, knowing that they’d both been about to call it a day, but she ignores him.

“How long do you think you’ll be? Maybe I can wait around until you get back.”

“I really don’t know,” she grits.

“Well, can you guess?”

And that’s the one. That’s the one that pushes her over the edge.

“No, I can't guess,” she snaps venomously. “So stop fucking asking me!”

As soon as the words are out, Nora flinches. Her sweet girl flinches. Olivia’s entire body is immediately flooded with an instant wave of regret.

“I…I’ve got to go,” her daughter stammers before rushing toward the stairs.

“Nora, wait!” she calls, attempting to stop her.

But her daughter’s already gone.

++++++++++

He finds his partner sitting on the roof. Knees pulled up to her chest, and arms resting on top of them. She looks small, he thinks, as he wordlessly joins and mirrors her position.

“I scared her.” 

“You startled her,” Elliot corrects.

“No, I scared her," she says wetly, voice dripping with shame. "I know that look. There’s only one person who’s ever put it on her face—and it sure as hell wasn’t me.”

Elliot knows instantly who the one person is and firmly tells her, “You are not your mother.”

She lets out a pained, huff. “Lashing out at my daughter. Screaming at her until she runs away. All because I’m not coping with a sexual assault. Feels remarkably similar to me.”

Olivia realizes her mistake when she hears his breath catch. She closes her eyes, trying to escape, but she can still feel his eyes glued to her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispers.

“Because I didn’t want you to look at me the way you are right now. Like I’m a victim or someone to feel sorry for. Or, what was it? Like you have to be looking over your shoulder to make sure I’m okay.”

“Shit,” he exhales, knowing, without further explanation what she’s referencing despite the almost year and a half since he said it. “Liv, I didn’t mean that. I was angry. You…you have to know I didn’t mean a word of that.”

“Right,” she says doubtfully.

“I was scared.”

Her entire body goes ridged at the admission. It shouldn’t be shocking. Nora had known instantly that was how he felt, and, deep down, she had too. But hearing him voice it—hearing the words aloud—it feels like a revelation.

“I was so damn scared,” he continues, looking straight ahead. “I was pissed at myself for letting that get in the way of the job, and I lashed out because…I thought…I thought I’d lost you. I swear, I didn’t mean any of it—you’re the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t feel strong. I feel…nothing. And everything.” She sounds detached, almost as if she hadn’t realized she was speaking aloud.

“What happened?” he asks with aching gentleness. 

“You know what happened,” she replies numbly.

“Did he…”

“Close enough.” She spares him a glance and can tell the answer isn’t satisfying, that his mind is racing through all the horrible things that close enough could mean. She squeezes her eyes closed. “You really need me to say it?”

“I want you to say whatever you need to. Whatever will help.”

She almost laughs at the idea. The idea that there's anything that could actually help. But he’s looking at her so earnestly that she finds the words tumbling out.

“He tried to…he tried to force oral contact.” It’s sterile, emotion hidden behind the legal definition they’re both so familiar with. “And he was about two seconds away from succeeding. He chased me. And he cuffed me to a door. And…there was nothing I could do.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“You know I’ve said those exact words about a million times, and I never understood how completely useless they are.”

He couldn’t agree more. He’s said it to countless victims, always intending it to be of comfort. But he's realizing they’ve really just been a comfort to himself. A way to feel like he was doing something to ease their pain. Now, they feel worthless. Like he's watching her drown, and the best he can do is stand on the shore and yell at her to swim better.

“I wish you would have told me.”

“What good would that have done?”

“Then I’d have known you were going through something,” he says, like the answer was obvious. “I’ve known…something was going on. But I wish I had known exactly what. So I could have been there for you.”

“You have enough to deal with. You don’t need to be worrying about me or thinking that I don’t have your back.”

“I would never think that— you’re the only one I want watching my six,” he replies adamantly. “I’m always going to worry though. But that’s not because I don’t think you’re capable or that you can’t take care of yourself. It’s because I care about you.”

She feels tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as they stare at one another, sitting no more than an inch apart. Close enough to feel the warmth from his arm that keeps ghosting hers. Close enough to smell him. Close enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Close enough to knock the wind out of her lungs.

“El, I—”

But her words are cut off when the roof door is slammed open by an unusually rattled Fin.

“Liv,” he says urgently. “You gotta get downstairs. Somebody called EMS for Nora.”

Chapter Text

Olivia is breathless by the time she reaches the front steps of the precinct, both Fin and Elliot following two steps behind her. Nora’s back is pressed firmly to the wall of the building, her palms flat on the sidewalk, fingers digging into the concrete, and eyes squeezed shut. She’s taking shallow breaths, one after the other—hyperventilating like she’s being chased by a murderer.

They arrive just in time to see a twenty-something paramedic kneel in front of Nora. Olivia practically trips in an effort to slide in next to him. She reaches instantly for her daughter’s hand and receives a knife to the chest when, at first, her sweet girl sharply jerks away before recognizing her mom’s touch. 

“What’s your name?” the paramedic asks in a voice that’s meant to be soothing but that Olivia finds patronizing.

“Nora—her name’s Nora,” she interjects before quickly adding, “I’m her mom.”

“Hi Nora—I’m Michael,” he continues, keeping his eyes directly on her daughter. “I’m going to put my hand on your wrist so I can check your pulse, alright?”

Nora wordlessly hands over her left arm.

With his fingers pressed into her wrist, he says gently, “Your pulse is very rapid. Are you having trouble breathing?”

The question makes Olivia want to curse at Michael the Paramedic. Because anyone can see that the answer is an obvious yes, which Nora confirms.

“Are you having any chest pain?”

“No…just…panic…attack.”

She wants to cry at how fast Nora’s words are said between breathes—barely getting them out between inhales. Her baby has had dozens of panic attacks, but she’s never seen her struggle so much to communicate. And if EMS had time to arrive, then this also has to be one of the longest.

“You have a panic disorder?” he confirms and receives a nod in response. “Okay—are you on any medications?”

When Nora doesn’t immediately answer, she interjects, “She takes ten milligrams of propranolol as needed.”

“Ma’am, I understand you want to help, but I need your daughter to answer the questions,” the man says with a placating smile. “Is that right? Are you on propranolol?”

Again, a nod. But much to Olivia’s surprise, her daughter adds a correction. “Not…ten…twenty…milli…grams…every…eight…hours.”

“Okay—are you on any other medications?”

She has the urge to jump in again to say ten milligrams of Lexapro, which Nora’s been on for years, but this time her daughter beats her to the punch.

With another very different and unexpected answer.

“Prozac…thirty…milligrams…daily…Ativan…two…milligrams…every…eight…hours.”

“Are you taking all those as directed?”

Nora nods.

“And you’ve taken them today?”

Another nod.

“Just…took…Ativan.”

“You just took another Ativan? About how long ago?”

“Fif…teen…min…utes.”

“Okay, that’s good. Should kick in soon then.”

“Before…man…wouldn’t…listen…don’t…need…help…done…this…before.”

“I hear you,” the man says kindly. “But, since I’m already here, I’m going to stay with you until things even out. While we’re waiting, we’re just going to talk a little bit, and I want you to focus on my breathing, okay? Now, can you tell me—have you had a lot of panic attacks before?”

“Long…time…more…lately.”

That’s certainly news to Olivia, which Elliot must sense because she immediately feels his hand on her shoulder, offered as a gesture of comfort.

“How long since this one started?”

“Twen…ty…min…utes.”

“And do you have any other medical conditions?”

“No—just panic disorder,” Olivia once again rushes, voice shaking, before Nora can answer.

“Ma’am, please. I’m not just asking for the information—I want her to focus on what I’m saying,” he says more firmly, making her feel foolish for not realizing that earlier.

“Nora, is that your only diagnosis?”

It’s a punch to the gut when her daughter shakes her head no before glancing over toward her, like she’s hesitant to continue.

“Is there something else?” the paramedic repeats, now eyeing Olivia himself. “Do you have another medical condition?”

When her sweet girl still doesn’t answer, he adds, “Do you need your mom to leave?”

Nora slowly looks over again and sends her a fiercely apologetic look. Then her sweet girl closes her eyes tightly and manages to say, “Supra…vent…ricular…tachy…cardia.”

Olivia’s hand drops from her daughter’s. She imagines this is what it must feel like to be hit by car. Moving along unknowingly before being smacked down by a two-ton vehicle and left in the middle of the road to die. She feels Elliot’s hand press more firmly into her shoulder, thinking at first that it’s meant as another gesture of reassurance. But she quickly realizes it’s because she’s almost fallen backward, and his hand is the only thing keeping her upright.

“You have SVT?” the man repeats, concern entering his voice as he instantly goes to check her pulse again. “And how long has your heartbeat been rapid?”

“Twen…ty…minutes,” Nora answers.

“And are you feeling weak or dizzy?”

“Both,” she gets out between breaths.

“Okay, well, just to be on the safe side, I think we should get you checked out at the hospital because your heartrate’s still pretty high, and it seems like this episode is lasting awhile.”

Elliot and Fin help Nora onto the stretcher while Olivia stands there, completely frozen. Until she feels her sweet girl reach out to grasp her hand. She grips it right back and lets herself be pulled into the back of the ambulance.

+++++++++

Nora’s breathing is almost even by the time they reach the hospital. They’re brought inside quickly where a stern, but obviously experienced, nurse hooks her up to a heart monitor and starts asking a million questions that Olivia can’t make out over the high-pitched buzzing in her ears.

It feels unreal sitting next to Nora in the midst of the bustling E.R. She can make out noises—voices, machine’s beeping—but it’s almost like a dream. Like she’s not really there. She’s so far removed that she completely misses it when the stern nurse furrows her brow and moves closer.

“Take deep breaths dear,” the woman tells her. “You’re in the hospital with your daughter. And she’s doing just fine.”

Olivia nods but says nothing else, which doesn’t seem to reassure the woman. In the next beat, she thinks she hears Nora’s voice in the background.

Didn’t know.

Has questions.

The nurse nods in understanding, disappears for a moment, and returns with a small booklet entitled Understanding Your Arrhythmia. When it’s in Olivia’s hands, the nurse taps her finger to it. “SVT—that’s the one you want to read about.”

The words snap her back to reality, and she immediately opens the proffered booklet, flipping through to find the section she’s been directed to. Her heart pounds in her ears as her eyes move over each word.

Supraventricular Tachycardia (SVT)

When your heart rhythm isn’t normal or the speed of the heartbeats isn’t right, you might have an arrhythmia. There are different names for different kinds of arrhythmias, depending on where they happen in the heart and what causes the problem. Tachycardia means your heart is beating too fast. It can reach more than 100 beats a minute while resting.

With SVT, your fast heart rate begins in your upper heart chambers. The cause is a problem with the electrical signals and circuitry in the heart. When your heart is beating too fast, your heart can’t fill with blood between beats, making it hard to get enough blood to your body.

Think about it like this: If elevator doors close too quickly, people don’t have enough time to get into the elevator before the doors close. Similarly, when the heart beats too quickly, there’s not enough time to fill with blood before the heart chambers contract.

Children and adults can get SVT. Women get it more than men. Others are more likely to get this condition because they have anxiety, drink more alcohol than recommended by their provider, smoke or use tobacco, or drink more than the recommended amount of coffee or other drinks with caffeine.

Olivia reads the words over and over, at least a half dozen times, trying to absorb the information and becoming so engrossed in the task that she almost jumps out of her skin when the curtain surrounding the patient bay is pulled back abruptly by a woman in a white coat.

“Hi there—I’m Dr. Grandon. I’m the cardiologist on call tonight. You must be Nora?”

“That’s me,” her daughter says with a half-smile and single wave from her propped-up position on the bed.

“Looks like the paramedics gave you adenosine in the field, and that’s got your heart rate back to normal—which is great news—and it seems like the panic attack is over.” It occurs to Olivia that she hadn’t even noticed that last detail. “How are you feeling?”

“Basically back to normal,” Nora answers, looking at her mom with concern.

“That’s what we like to hear. I’d like to monitor you for another twenty or thirty minutes, but, assuming there are no issues, we should be able to get you discharged right after that.”

“Sounds good to me. Not that I don’t love spending my Friday nights with you guys.”

Dr. Grandon chuckles. “Your chart says you have a cardiologist already?”

“Yeah—Dr. Kingsman. At Mount Sinai.”

“Great—she’s fantastic,” the woman replies. “Well, we can send everything over there from your admission tonight. I’m going to recommend you schedule a follow up with her since this episode was a little more severe than the ones you’ve been having since you’ve been on your medication. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Nope.”

“Alright then—I’ll be back in a bit to check on you,” she smiles before leaving and pulling the curtain back.

When she’s gone, Nora gives Olivia a searching look and says, “I’m ready when you are.”

“For what?” she answers, feeling more grounded but still not entirely there.

“For you to say or ask whatever you need to.”

That pulls her back a little more. “I don’t need to say anything.”

“Yeah, you do. And I’d rather you do it while I’m still hooked up to the heart monitor.”

Olivia interprets the reply as flippant. “Do you really think making light of this is the way to go?”

“I’m not making light of it,” Nora says evenly. “But you have questions and things you want to say—I know you do. And you won’t because you’re going to be worried that I’m going to have a panic attack or my heart’s going to go haywire. So, let’s just talk now while I’m on the monitor. That way you can see that my heart rate is completely fine.” 

She almost feels grateful for how well her daughter knows her—for how easily she can identify what will almost certainly be a problem—and how seamlessly she’s offered a solution. Until she remembers why the solution had to be offered in the first place.

“I honestly don’t know where to start,” she exhales.

“Okay,” her sweet girl nods. “Then I’ll go first. I’ve always had an increased heartrate when I have a panic attack, and I never really thought anything of it. But about five months ago, I had one, and my heart kept racing even after it was over. Then a few weeks later, it just started racing for no reason. I probably would have brushed it off, but I started having chest pain, which you don’t mess around with, so I went to the E.R. and they recommended I see a cardiologist. I did, and after some tests, she diagnosed me with SVT.”

“How bad has the anxiety been?”

“It’s always gone in waves—you know that. This wave of bad is just a little longer than I’m used to.”

“How long?” Olivia pushes, anger tinging her voice. But Nora remains calm, cool, and collected.

“I’ve been having more panic attacks over the last year. A lot more over the last nine months or so. It’s probably a combination of stress and the fact that the SSRI I’d been on stopped working.  My psychiatrist switched me to another one, but since things have been pretty bad, she’s got me on the benzo until we can find the right dosage.”

“Is this why you’ve been staying with Mia so much? Because you didn’t want me to find out about all this?”

“No,” she says pointedly. “I’ve been staying with Mia because she’s my friend, and I’ve missed spending time with her.”

“Were you ever planning to tell me?”

“At some point. I didn’t have an exact time frame though. And I had no plans to tell you anytime soon.”

The way Nora says it—so matter-of-factly, like it’s nothing—takes Olivia from exhaustion to the verge of an explosion.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised because this is what you do—you keep things from me—but somehow, I still can’t believe you would hide something as important as this.”

Her daughter’s previously open, composed demeanor shifts—eyes narrowing before firmly saying, “I really don’t think you’re in a position to criticize me for not sharing important information about my health—mental or otherwise.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she says defensively, while internally squirming.

“It means I understand exactly how hurt you are that I didn’t tell you about all this. Because I am just as hurt that you haven’t told me about what’s going on with you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Nora practically glares at her. “I’m a neuroscientist who’s been studying PTSD for the last seven years—almost exclusively for the last three. Do you really think I don’t know it when I see it? Or are you under the impression that I’m just completely incompetent in my field of study?”

Olivia turns away. “I have it under control.”

“The fact that you just spent the last thirty minutes disassociating would suggest otherwise.”

“I wasn’t disassociating,” she retorts.

“Yeah, you were. DSM-V diagnostic criteria for PTSD with dissociative features—individual has persistent or recurrent experiences of unreality of surroundings. Meaning, the individual experiences the world around them as unreal, dreamlike, distant, or distorted. Are you going to sit there and tell me that’s not what just happened?”

“I’m overwhelmed. It’s not every day my daughter conceals a heart condition from me.”

“I might buy that if you didn’t also have about a half dozen other symptoms. Flashbacks—check. Insomnia—check. Nightmares—check.”

“You’ve been staying with Mia. You have no idea whether I’m having nightmares or insomnia.”

“I’ve been staying with her over the last two months. This has been going on way longer than that. But, even if it hadn’t—I still would have figured it out. Because you look completely exhausted. You’re not sleeping in your bed, and you’ve been leaving the T.V. on at night.”

Olivia has the decency to look guilty.

“The fact that you haven’t talked to me about any of this and you’ve been encouraging me to stay over at Mia’s are pretty good indicators that you’re self-isolating,” she continues. “It’s also safe to say that you’re agitated and irritable. And I think your entire squad will back me up on that, especially after you screamed and cussed at me in front of all of them.”

She almost starts crying right then and there. “I’m sorry about that. My love, you…you have no idea how sorry I am.”

“Mom, it’s okay. I understand why it happened, I know you didn’t mean it, and I promise, I’m not upset or hurt.”

“That’s what triggered this. Isn’t it?” Olivia says, ignoring the words of comfort. “I’m why you’re in the E.R.”

“We don’t know that. The episode could have happened regardless of what you said.”  

“But I caused the panic attack.”

“I caused the panic attack,” she corrects. “It’s a reaction that my body has to stress.”

“Stress that was caused by me,” Olivia counters.

“Or by sudden loud noises or final exams or nightmares or a dozen other things. Panic attacks happen. And it doesn’t do me or you any good to sit here and argue what did or didn’t cause one. Because it doesn’t matter—I can’t live my life avoiding triggers. I can’t worry about what’s coming around the corner because that stuff’s going to come no matter what. The important thing is that I’m being proactive—I’m doing everything I can to handle it.”

Nora seems so grown up in that moment. So wise and mature that it catches her off guard. And she feels compelled to reply, albeit reluctantly. “I am too. Or at least I’m trying to.”

“I’d like to know exactly what that means.” Nora’s tone is firm and direct—and it makes Olivia feel like their roles are suddenly reversed—like she’s the child and her sweet girl is the parent.

“I’m in a support group. For women vets and law enforcement.”

“Okay,” her daughter nods. “That’s a good start. But you need to go to individual therapy too.”

“I…can’t do that.”

“Why? Because your job is going to find out? Believe it or not, if you have untreated PTSD, it’s probably not the worst idea in the world for someone to question whether you should be carrying a gun.”

The words are harsh, and they feel like a slap. Her face must show it because Nora immediately softens and sighs, “Do you have at least two weeks’ worth of vacation days?”

“A vacation isn’t going to help.”

“That’s not what I asked. Do you have two weeks of vacation days?”

“I’m not sure—probably,” she answers slowly, struggling to see where this is headed.

“I know someone running a clinical trial—it’s an intensive outpatient treatment for PTSD. It’s two weeks. You go every day, and they make recommendations at the end for what else you might need. As of a few days ago, they have spots open.” Nora pauses before intently saying, “And I’d like for you to do it.”

The suggestion seems more than a little abhorrent. “I can’t. If my job found out—”

“No one’s going to find out,” she cuts off. “It’s a clinical trial. They’re not running anything through insurance, and these researchers would walk through broken glass and the fires of hell before they disclosed anything that would mess up their data.”

This idea is becoming slightly less abhorrent. But only slightly.

And then Nora looks at her. There are tears in her eyes, and her face looks pained but somehow filled with love.

“Mom, when you hurt, I hurt.”

Olivia sucks in a breath, knowing there’s only one possible answer she can give.

“When can I start?”

Chapter Text

He’s been through something horrible. She gets that. But the least he could do is return a damn phone call.

It’s been weeks, and all Olivia’s gotten is crickets. More than a dozen calls and voicemails. Just as many texts. And nothing. It fills her with concern and a sickening sense of dread. She keeps telling herself she’s worrying for nothing. That he just needs time. After all, Elliot would never leave her without a word.

And then he does.

She knows what’s coming before Cragen says it. Getting called into his office while he wears a grim look—one filled with even more concern and hesitance than when he’d told her Serena had fallen to her death. There's only one thing it could possibly be.

Elliot put his papers in.

Liv, I'm sorry.

She’s numb walking back out to the bullpen. Hears herself agreeing to go on a call—and that she just needs a minute. She mindlessly goes to an empty interrogation room, lets her back fall against the wall, and pulls out her phone.

“Hey, stranger,” her sweet girl greets. Olivia wants to cry just at the sound of her voice “Mom? You there?”

“I’m…I’m here,” she manages.

“What’s wrong?” Nora asks, her voice dropping into concern.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” she lies. “I just…needed to hear your voice.”

“Are you sure?” her daughter asks skeptically. “You don’t sound fine.”

“I am—I promise,” Olivia replies, composing herself. “Just one of those days.”

“Do you want me to come over tonight?”

She wants nothing more than to say yes. But Nora has her own life—school and friends and an apartment in Morningside Heights that she shares with a fellow grad student. So as much as she wants to see her sweet girl, she answers instead, “No, that’s okay. I’ll probably be late—I’m heading out on a call soon. But maybe we could do something this weekend?”

“How about dinner on Friday? Then I can stay over?”

“That sounds great,” she says softly. “I…I have to go. But I’ll see you then, okay?”

It isn’t until she’s in the car that she realizes she hung up before Nora could answer.

And without saying goodbye.

Or I love you.

++++++++++

Several hours and a victim’s statement later, Olivia finally makes her way home, ready to fall into bed and possibly never get out again. When she pushes her apartment door open, she’s surprised to find the lights are already on, and there’s someone waiting for her on the sofa.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m not allowed to drop in to see you?” Nora says softly.

“You agreed we’d do dinner on Friday,” Olivia replies flatly, dropping her bag and jacket at the door.

“And you told me that nothing was wrong. So I guess we both lied.”

She sighs with exhaustion and rubs her forehead. “You should go home.”

“I am home.”

“Nora—"

“Save your breath. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but there’s no way I’m leaving.”

“I just…I can’t tonight.”

“You’re overloaded—I get it,” she says gently. “So, here’s what’s going to happen. I already ordered some food, and when it gets here, you’re going to eat because I know you and you probably haven’t had anything all day. Then, we’re going to sit on the sofa, get under the blanket, watch some T.V., and you’re going to let me put my arms around you. And you don’t have to say a single word the whole time. You just have to let me sit with you. Okay?”

Olivia wants to say yes—that the plan sounds like just this side of perfect—but all she can manage is a curt nod.

“Good,” her sweet girl says, clearly satisfied with the response. "Food will be here in twenty. Go take a shower and wash this shit day off. And I’ll find something we can watch for when you’re done.”

She silently complies, heading toward her bedroom door and the bathroom within. She makes the water so hot that it’s practically scalding and stands under the spray until the bathroom is filled with steam and the air feels heavy. So heavy that it makes her feel lightheaded. Part of her wishes it would just make her pass out. Because then she wouldn’t have to feel all of this.  

But Nora’s waiting, so she towels off and throws on the most comfortable pajamas she can find—flannel pants, an old t-shirt that’s been washed into softness, and an oversized sweatshirt—and rejoins her daughter in the living room. Her sweet girl is already seated under the throw blanket they keep on the sofa, and their dinner is spread out on the coffee table.

Nora smiles before flipping back the blanket so Olivia can slide in next to her.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so I just got a bunch of appetizers so we’d have choices—we’ve got spring rolls, sticky rice, crab rolls, dumplings, satay chicken, and then I threw in some fried rice too.”

She gives her daughter a grateful look before settling in and putting a single spring roll on her plate.

“Alright, so there’s some reruns of Friends and Parks and Rec coming on in a few, but we can also look through the movies on that new cable channel you accidentally added in case there’s anything good there.”

“Whatever you want, my love,” she answers, managing a small bite from her spring roll.

“Well, in that case, I’ve actually saved the best option for last.” Nora grins before reaching over to the end table and grabbing an elongated red box. “When I got my stipend a few weeks ago, I splurged a little and got Buffy on DVD. In the mood to watch Sarah Michelle Gellar do some slaying?”

Olivia actually grins in return, basking in both her daughter’s enthusiasm and the images of all the times they’d done this exact thing when she was a teenager.

“We can’t watch Buffy without cookie dough.”

Nora lets out a faux scoff. “What do you take me for? An amateur? I picked up both raw Tollhouse and ice cream on the way here.”

“Then bring on the slaying.”

++++++++++

By the end of the third episode, Nora’s boxed up the leftovers, and they’ve both eaten their share of Ben and Jerry’s. The living room is dark, with only the T.V. providing any light, when her daughter asks if she’d like to do one more. And, despite her exhaustion, she says yes. Because she wants more. More of Nora. More of pleasant memories. More of this wonderfully warm, safe space they’ve created together.

As initially promised, Nora’s arms are wrapped around her, and she lets her head rest in the curve of Olivia’s neck. She asks no questions. Only holds her tightly. And it actually manages to take the edge off the unspeakable pain she’s drowning in. She wonders if Nora can sense that because she never suggests they call it a night. Just asks at the end of each episode if Olivia wants to watch another.

And another.

And another.

By midnight, she finally says no—that they both need to get some sleep. Her girl nods in understanding and moves to put the DVD in its case.

But then her sweet girl’s back is turned. And it all tumbles out before she can think twice.

“Elliot’s gone,” she says quietly, letting the words hang in the air. “I’ve been calling him for weeks, but…he’s done.”

Nora freezes at first, but then in a blink, she’s at Olivia’s side. Because her daughter just knows. Knows how unbelievably devastating this information is. And how completely heartbroken it’s left her.

“He just…left me,” she mumbles, voice shaking. “He didn’t even say goodbye.”

Saying it aloud, the violent reality of the suddenly situation hits her.

“I don’t…I don’t think I’m going to get to see him again,” Olivia chokes out.

And then she falls into Nora’s arms and sobs.

Chapter Text

It’s been a little more than a month, and Nick Amaro can honestly say he’s not sure what to make of Olivia Benson. She’s skilled—there’s no question. But she’s also, well, prickly is the best word he can think of. And unfriendly. And sometimes even outright hostile. At least when it comes to him. With victims, she’s the consummate professional—kind, empathetic, dedicated.

He’s a good enough detective to deduce that a significant cause of her unpleasant demeanor is the absence of her former partner. And even if he’d been the worst detective on the force, he’d still have figured that out because Olivia certainly isn’t trying to hide the resentment she feels at having to work with him.

Despite his years of experience, she treats him like it’s his first day on the job. Which, in some ways is fair. Undercover work certainly hadn’t prepared him for the appalling things he’s seeing at SVU. Or for how completely spent he is at the end of each day.

Today, is one such day. And, unfortunately for him, it’s nowhere close to being over. He’s beyond tired and ready to punch out. But there’s a suspect in interrogation that just won’t cooperate, so home is a place he won’t be seeing any time soon. He and Olivia have been taking turns trying to get the creep to talk and while his gut tells him it might go faster if they take a run at him together, the woman’s obviously in no mood for teaming.

So he waits at his desk, attempting to organize what they’ve gathered so far—mainly in the hopes of avoiding a look of annoyance from his new partner when she sees the backlog they’ve amassed. But his concentration is waning, and he ends up distracted by the sounds and movement around him.

Including a young woman entering the bullpen.

He watches as she scans the room, clearly in search of something or someone. He can't quite put his finger on why, but she seems familiar—like he's met her before. She’s a good eight inches shorter than him and dressed comfortably but professionally with her long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and a messenger back slung over her shoulder. He briefly considers whether to approach her—to see if she's here to report something—but before he can move, Fin looks up from his desk and grins.

“Hey, baby girl,” the man greets, pulling the woman into a tight hug that’s obviously returned. “How you been doin’?”

“Eh, you know—no rest for the wicked,” she replies warmly. “How about you?”

“Same shit, different day.”

The woman chuckles and with a nod toward Olivia’s desk asks, “What about her?”

Fin raises an eyebrow. “You’d know that better than I would—better than anyone would.”

“I know how Olivia’s doing. I’m asking about Detective Benson.”

“She’s…dealing,” he hedges.

“Would you honestly tell me if she wasn’t?” 

“You’d be my first and only call, baby girl.”

“Speak of the devil,” he nods over the woman’s shoulder toward Olivia, who’s now heading down the hall, looking especially exhausted.

When his partner sees the two of them, she stops dead in her tracks. “Nora—what are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

The woman—apparently named Nora—just gives her a knowing look, and Olivia’s expression immediately drops. “We were supposed to have dinner, weren’t we?”

“About two hours ago,” she answers, but her voice carries no indication of upset.

“I’m sorry. I completely forgot.”

“It’s okay,” she brushes off, clearly unbothered.

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I did. A few times.”

Olivia pulls her phone from her pocket, and her shoulders sink when she sees the screen.

“I must not have heard it,” she says with frustration that’s obviously directed at herself. 

“Not a big deal—I got some work done while I waited for you,” Nora assures. “Do you need to stay? Or do you have a few minutes to grab something quick with me?”

When his partner hesitates, Fin immediately jumps in. “I got you, Liv. I’ll take over until you’re back. You guys take all the time you need.”

She gives him a grateful look before turning back to Nora. “Give me two minutes? I just need to run to the bathroom and grab my bag.”

“No need to run,” the woman jokes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Olivia actually smiles—something Nick’s not sure he’s seen in the entire time they’ve been working together. In fact, he’s not sure he’s seen whoever this version of Olivia is at all. It’s like she’s a completely different person—closer to who he’s seen with victims but even more relaxed and personal.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until the mysterious woman’s approaching him with a sincere smile and an outstretched hand.

“You must be Nick. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Nora.”

He takes her hand, still trying to sort out exactly what he’s in the middle of. “Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you too.”

She smirks, “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“Not…so much, no,” he admits.

“Well, that’ll be a fun conversation for you guys to have,” she says with amusement. “How do you like working with her?”

“Oh, um, she’s…great.”

Nora’s smile is suddenly tinged with sadness. “Just give her some time, okay? I promise, the real Olivia’s worth knowing.”

He wants to ask what the hell that means—and who the hell she is and about a hundred other things—but his partner’s back before he can say anything else.

“Ready?” Olivia says to Nora, eyeing Nick like he's encroaching on her territory. 

“Absolutely,” the woman nods before looking back at him. “It was nice to meet you, Nick.”

“Yeah, you too,” he answers, although he’s still not sure exactly who he’s met.

Olivia practically glares at him as the two leave the station, but when she looks to Nora, the other Olivia’s back—all smiles and warmth. And he can’t wait to find out who exactly this person is that has the power to make that version of her appear.

++++++++++

He gives it almost a week before broaching the subject—until they’re staked out waiting for a witness to come home. It’s a risk bringing it up, since Olivia seems in no mood to talk, but he figures since she can’t escape the conversation, he might as well give it a go.

“So,” he starts. “The woman who came by the station the other day—Nora. You guys seem to know each other pretty well.”

“Yeah, we do,” she answers, not even bothering to look over at him.

“You seem close.”

“Aren’t you an ace detective,” she mutters under her breath.

Nick sighs. “Olivia, I’m trying here.”

That gets her attention, and under her irritation there seems to be at least a hint of guilt. When she doesn't say anything, he assumes the conversation is over. But then he hears her quietly mumble, “She’s my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” he asks, regretting instantly his incredulous tone when she snaps around to look at him with a tight expression.

“I’m just…surprised, I guess," he explains.

“Because I couldn’t have a child?”

“Because we’ve been working together for a little while now, and you’ve never mentioned her.”

“I don't talk about my personal life at work," she retorts. He swears he sees her flinch, like her own words triggered a bad memory.

“She seemed to know Fin pretty well,” he counters.

“Yeah, well, I’ve known Fin for almost ten years. Since Nora was in high school.”

“Ten years—so Nora’s…older?” he asks delicately and watches as Olivia’s jaw tightens.

“You met her,” she replies, looking at him like he’s clueless. “So I’m assuming you don’t actually need me to answer that.”

Nick’s searching for what to say next when Olivia loses patience and huffs, “Why don’t you just ask me what you want to know?”

There’s something about the invitation that makes him momentarily lose his sanity, and later, he’ll wonder what possessed him to boldly answer her.

“Did you have her when you were a teenager?”

“No,” she replies, although less harshly.

Again, he’s left searching for words, but she takes pity on him and sighs, “My mother gave birth to her, but I raised her. I had custody of her for most of her childhood, and then I legally adopted her when she was seventeen. Any other questions?”

About a million, he thinks. But Olivia’s shared more personal information in the last sixty seconds than she has in the entirety of their partnership, and he’s not about to push his luck. So he opts instead to give what every mom wants—a compliment.

“She seems kind,” he says simply.

Olivia seems almost taken aback, and the unfriendly expression she usually gives him suddenly looks softer. He's more than a little pleased when, of her own volition, it looks like she’s internally debating whether to say more.

“She’s a Ph.D. student. At Columbia,” she finally adds.

“Oh, yeah?” he replies, not wanting to seem too eager at her attempt to engage. “What’s she studying?”

“Neurobiology and behavior.”

“Wow—so she’s brilliant.”

It feels like a victory when Olivia lets out a half-smile. “Very.”

Wanting to hold on to her sudden interest in sharing, he keeps the questions coming. “So—a Ph.D. What’s her focus?”

“PTSD and trauma. Primarily in victims of sexual assault and childhood abuse survivors.”

“That’s…you must be beyond proud,” he says, not bothering to hide how impressed he is.

“I am,” she nods, that soft smile cropping up again. And then she surprises him with a question of her own. “Your daughter—you said her name’s Zara?”

“Yeah,” he confirms. “She’s six.”

“I remember that age,” she says wistfully. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Does it get any easier as they get older?”

“Not even a little,” she smirks back.

Nick laughs. “Well, you’ll have to give me some pointers.”

“God, I'm no expert.”

“Your kid’s gonna be a doctor who apparently likes to have dinner with her mom—you must have done something right.”

“I had my moments,” she concedes, apparently liking the flattery. 

It hits him then what Nora had meant—that even after a few months of working with her, he still hasn’t actually met the real Olivia Benson. The one that Nora said is worth knowing.

But he thinks he may have just caught a glimpse of her.

Chapter Text

It’s a cool but sunny Saturday as Olivia makes her way to meet Nora for a morning of coffee, pastries, and book buying at The Strand. Her daughter’s been exceptionally busy for most of the semester—preparing to defend her dissertation and applying for post-doctoral fellowships—and, while they talk every day, she’s hardly seen her sweet girl.

Nora’s absorbed in a book when she arrives at the café, having claimed a table near the window, and Olivia can’t help but smile when she sees that her daughter’s already ordered her a latte and a blueberry scone—both long-time favorites. As she slides in next to her, the weight of the week washes away. They talk and laugh, and, as always, it’s completely perfect. Two hours, a few cups of coffee, and an unnamed number of scones later, the perfection continues as they walk the few blocks to their favorite bookstore to wander the aisles. 

“So, um, there’s actually something I want to talk to you about,” Nora says, hyper-focusing on the row of books in front of her and immediately drawing her mom's attention with her poorly executed attempt to sound casual.

“Okay,” Olivia answers slowly.

“I sort of…met someone.”

Her interest is immediately peaked. Nora’s dated here and there over the years, and, although nothing has ever been explicitly said, she’s always gotten the sense that most of her sweet girl’s relationships were more of the friends with benefits variety than something more serious. 

“What kind of someone?”

“A guy,” Nora answers with a shy smile. She ducks her head slightly before continuing, “His name’s Sam. We met in a biochemistry seminar a couple of years ago, and he seemed nice but we never really saw each other after that. This semester though, we’re teaching classes in the same building, and we just kept bumping into each other.”

“Tell me about him,” Olivia says eagerly. “He’s in your program?”

“No—he’s getting his Ph.D. in molecular pharmacology.”

“I…have no idea what that is.”

Nora let’s out a light laugh, “Don’t worry. No one does. Even when he explains it. Actually, especially when he explains it.”

“Well, what else—what’s he like?”

“He’s really kind and thoughtful. Super shy but so funny once you get to know him. He’s completely brilliant but never acts like it. And, I don’t know, he just sort of…gets me.”

Her sweet girl is so unabashedly happy as she talks, and Olivia can’t help but match her smile. “Sounds like he’s pretty wonderful.”

“Yeah,” she answers, that bashful look returning. “We’ve been going out for a couple months now, and…I’ve just never felt this way about someone before.”

“I can tell—I’ve never seen you this smitten,” she teases, fully expecting an eye roll in return.

But instead, Nora quietly says, “I think it actually might be more than that. I think I might love him.”

“Wow,” Olivia exhales, somewhat in shock at the admission. “That’s…big. Really big. I’m…I’m so happy for you, my love.”

Her daughter seems embarrassed, almost squirming at her reaction, but it’s obvious she’s pleased. For all her maturity and brilliance, it’s in moments like these that Olivia can still see her baby—reluctant and modest—and still hoping for her mom’s approval.

“So, when do I get to meet him?”

“I’m hoping we can all have dinner soon. I’ve been talking to him about it, but he’s a little nervous.”

“What have you been saying about me that’s got him scared?” she chuckles with a pointedly raised eyebrow.

“Nothing bad,” Nora grins back. “He just really wants it to go well."

“If he’s as great as you say he is, then why wouldn’t it?”

Suddenly her sweet girl seems reluctant. “He has some issues with anxiety. Not exactly like I do—he doesn’t tend to have panic attacks. But he definitely has some generalized anxiety, and it can get particularly bad in social situations. It’s hard for him to meet new people, and it's especially hard when he feels like the stakes are high.”

“And dinner with me is a high stakes social situation?”

“Meeting his girlfriend’s mom who happens to interrogate people for a living—I’m going to go with a yes on that one.”

“Well, you can tell him that I’d love to meet him—whenever he’s ready."

“Okay,” she answers, clearly pleased. “I will.”

“So if you’re ready for him to meet me, does that mean you’ve met his parents yet?”

“Yeah,” Nora grimaces.

“It didn’t go well?” Olivia asks with concern.

“It went fine—I think they like me. I’m not exactly sure how I feel about them though.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re just not very understanding about his anxiety. It seems like they put a lot of pressure on him, and they don’t get how that makes everything worse,” Nora says with irritation that she immediately shakes off. “Anyway—I don’t want to think about them. Let’s just focus on how I can raise my credit card bill with books I don’t need.”

“How about we spare your credit card and make today my treat?”

“That’s a very dangerous offer, Olivia Benson," her sweet girl says with faux seriousness. "I can rack up quite a sum when it comes to books.”

“I’m well aware,” she replies drolly. “But I’m the mom. It’s my job to spoil you every once in a while.”

Her daughter just smirks and playfully shrugs. "Well, I can't argue with that logic."

++++++++++

It seems her assurances have helped because, less than two weeks later, Olivia’s headed to meet Nora and her new boyfriend for dinner. When she arrives at the restaurant, an overly perky hostess is eager to tell her that a member of her party is already seated and quickly shuffles her to a table—not waiting for her to ask which member has already arrived.

And Olivia quickly learns it’s not Nora.

“Sam?” she asks gently to a nervous looking man who practically jumps out of his seat at the sound of her voice.

“Um, yeah, that’s me. You must be Olivia,” he says shakily. “Nora texted me—she’s stuck in traffic, but she’ll be here soon.”

She nods and pulls out her own phone. “Looks like she texted me too.”

“Right, right—of course she did,” he replies, almost admonishing himself.

Nora certainly hadn’t been lying when she said Sam could be anxious in social situations. The poor man looks like he’s sweating bullets, and he seems more nervous than most suspects she’s ever questioned.

“I’m so glad we could do this,” she says softly, hoping to ease the tension.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam replies, adjusting his brown rimmed glasses. He opens his mouth to say more, but it quickly becomes apparent that he has no clue what that might be.

“Nora said that you guys met in a class a few years ago?” 

“Yeah, yeah—biochemistry,” he answers, looking slightly relieved that she’s taken the lead. “Not the best professor, but I got to meet Nora so it was worth it.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she smiles. “She said you’re teaching this semester too?”

He gives a quick nod. “It was…really nice to see her again. I sort of couldn’t believe it when she asked if I wanted to get coffee.”

“I’m so glad she did,” Olivia says honestly. “Nora seems to really like you.”

“I…I really like her too. I’ve never...I've never met anyone like her. She’s…incredible.”

He looks worried, like he's been too forward, and it's more than easy to dispel his concern.

“You know, Sam, I’ve got to say—telling a mom how amazing her daughter is—you’re starting off strong.”

That actually gets her half a grin. And while the man’s clearly still nervous, the conversation starts to flow more easily—at least for her.

“Did you go to Columbia for undergrad too?”

“No—I went to college in Boston.”

“Oh, where in Boston?”

“Just a little outside the city,” he answers evasively.

Sensing her confusion at his vague response, Sam hesitantly admits, “I, uh, I went to Harvard. It’s just a school, but people can have…big reactions when I say that’s where I went so I just usually say I went to college in Boston. Not that you would make a big deal out of it. I just meant that some people do."

Before she can respond, he sighs regretfully, “I’m sorry. I’m not…I know Nora told you—about my anxiety. I hope…I just don’t want you to think…I know I’m not good at this—with making small talk. I swear I'm not trying to be so awkward."

“You’re doing fine,” she assures with as much warmth as she humanly possible.

He nods, like he’s trying to convince himself of that. “I just really want you to like me. Because if you don't then, she might..."

“Sam, I already like you,” Olivia gently interrupts. “I liked you before we even met. Nora wouldn’t ask me to meet just anyone, so if I’m here, then you must be someone special.”

He gives her another nod, still seeming uncertain.

But then, he spots something over her shoulder. And his expression changes. In an instant, his entire body visibly relaxes and his face lights up. Truly, noticeably lights up.

Olivia knows without a doubt that the something he’s seen behind her is Nora—and that this man is indeed someone special.

Chapter Text

The dissertation committee meets on a Friday afternoon in late May. And, although she’ll never admit it, Olivia is almost as nervous as Nora. The date’s been on her calendar for months, and the twisted combination of dread and pride has been swirling ever since. But on the day in question, she locks away all feelings of the former and focuses on the latter—along with soothing her sweet girl’s own sense of dread.

The group of supporters is small, but meaningful—Olivia, Sam, Nick, and Fin. She’d been surprised when her daughter suggested inviting her partner and long-time colleague, but the presence of her friends is a comfort so Olivia opts not to question it.

Gathered in a non-descript classroom, they all listen intently over the course of two hours as her daughter answers dozens of questions posed by five unfriendly looking professors on the ins and outs of her research and the contents of her almost two-hundred-page manuscript. Her sweet girl is all poise and confidence throughout—at least until she’s asked to step out of the room to allow the committee time to deliberate.

“Ugh, I feel like I swallowed bees,” Nora says nervously, wringing her hands and pacing up and down the hallway. “I’ve been waiting for this day for six years. What if I don’t pass?”

“I realize it’s ironic coming from me,” Sam replies with a loving squeeze to her shoulder. “But you really have nothing to worry about. You did fantastic, and you’re definitely going to pass—with distinction.”

“Yeah, I didn’t understand most of what you were saying, so I’m sure you nailed it,” Nick jokes.

Fin scoffs. “What’re you talking ‘bout? You don’t know what noradrenergic and serotonergic mechanisms are? You miss that day at the academy or something?”

Nora gives a smile at their attempts to ease the tensions, but it clearly does little to settle her nerves. So Olivia reaches for her daughter’s arm and pulls her into a half hug, rubbing gently on her back. “My love, it’s going to be fine.”

“My brain knows that, but my body doesn’t seem to be getting the message.”  

She places a hand solidly on her sweet girl’s back, attempting to covertly feel her heartbeat—and receives a knowing, quirked eyebrow in return. “Very subtle—turning a hug into a pulse check.”

“That’s not what I was doing,” she lies, which Nora clearly doesn’t buy. “Okay, maybe I was.”

“This isn’t panic attack territory. It’s just regular old nerves. And it’s definitely not SVT, which you should know—I haven’t had any episodes since the ablation.”

“What’s an ablation?” Nick questions with a scrunched face, adding yet another term to his day that’s unfamiliar.

“Basically, a doctor stuck a tube in my heart, got rid of the bad cells, and now I don’t have an arrythmia anymore.”

“It can reoccur,” Olivia counters. “Especially when you experience repeated or long-term stress.”

“Yes, but I’ve been stressed for years, and it hasn’t. And there’s no reason to think it will.”

“Can you blame me for worrying?”

“Mom, I’m fine.”

“How about we take your mind off all this?” Sam suggests. “You guys are leaving Friday for the beach, right?”

“The beach?” Nick asks. “That sounds fun. What do you have planned?”

Nora grins just at the mention of their upcoming trip. “Absolutely nothing. I feel like all I’ve been doing for the past ten years is something. I’m very much looking forward to a few days of no plans, no stress, and complete nothingness.”

Sam smiles at her obvious excitement as Fin asks, “The house you two rent—that’s your spot, right?”

Her sweet girl nods. “We’ve gone every few years since I was seven—same beach, same house, same everything.”

“Sounds like a good time,” he replies.

“Sam—are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Olivia asks, but her daughter’s boyfriend immediately shakes his head in the negative.

“Maybe some other time—you guys deserve a trip just the two of you.”

“You’re more than welco—"

But she’s cut off when the nearby door suddenly opens. The most blank faced of the professors steps out of the room, and she can feel under her hand that Nora’s stopped breathing.

Looking at her daughter, the man says evenly, “The committee’s ready for you to come back in, Dr. Benson.”

Then his stoic face has a barely there grin. And both she and Nora exhale in relief.

++++++++++

The beach is, in a word, perfectly lovely. The weather is warm but not too hot, and there hasn’t been a cloud in the sky for days. Olivia and her sweet girl have spent almost every second together—sprawled out on side-by-side beach chairs—reading, talking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company.

“God, I’ve missed it here,” Nora sighs. “I’m so glad we decided to come—it’s been way too long.”

“It really has,” Olivia agrees from her own chair.

“I’ve got to stock up on Vitamin D while I can. From what I know about my workload and winters in Connecticut, I’ll probably be locked in the lab all day and get very little sunlight.”

“You looking forward to starting your fellowship?”

“Mostly—I wish I had more time off before I head up there, but it’s Yale so I can suck it up.”

“You never told me—did everything work out with that apartment you were looking at?”

“Yep,” Nora nods. “It’s all secured. I’ll have two roommates that I don’t know, which doesn’t exactly thrill me, but it’s at least in my price range.”

Olivia frowns. “Are they going to be a problem? I told you I’d help out with costs if you need it.”

“They seem nice enough. Besides, it’s one year and then I’m done. And even if they are a problem, I’ve had lots of practice with messy roommates who insist that a pan needs to soak for three days before they can wash it and who hog the hot water, so I’m well prepared.”

“I do not hog the hot water,” she replies, slightly offended.

“Funny how you knew I meant you and not my current roommates,” Nora smirks back.

“I…was making an educated guess.”

“Or you know you’re guilty.” She sends Nora a half-hearted glare, but her sweet girl just chuckles. “You going to be okay without me—living all by your lonesome?”

“I’ve been living by myself for a few years now, and I’ve done just fine, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, but you won’t get to see my beautiful face for dinners or coffee runs—at least not as often.”

“You’re going to Connecticut—less than two hours away,” she says drolly. “It’s not like I’m never going to see you.”

“Does that mean you’re going to come visit me?” her daughter asks hopefully.

“You honestly think you could keep me away? I’d be there every weekend if I could.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the first time in the history of New Haven that anyone’s ever said that.”

“I’m glad you decided to go somewhere else for your post-doc. I think it’ll be good for you.  It’ll be worth it to experience something different—get to be somewhere new.”

“Says the lady who’s never lived anywhere but Manhattan.” The lightness in Nora’s voice drops suddenly drops. “Seriously though—are you going to be okay?”

“What exactly are you worried is going to happen in your absence?” she replies with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m more worried about what won’t happen.”

“What does that mean?” Her daughter gives her a look knowing look, and Olivia groans. “Not this again.”

“Apparently you’re not going to do anything about it on your own, so I need to stay on you.”

“I really don’t need your help to find a date.”

“You sure about that? Things have been kind of shitty for you in that department lately—or… always.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate you describing my love life as shitty, but a boyfriend is the last thing I’m looking for right now.”

“I want you to be happy, especially after El—” Nora cuts herself off, opting not to head into complicated territory. “I just don’t like the idea of you not having someone.”

“It’s not exactly my first choice either, but I can’t wave a wand and find the perfect relationship.”

“No,” her sweet girl says pointedly. “But you could hit the pavement a little harder than you are.”

“You make it sound like I’m job hunting.”

“You know what I mean.”

Olivia sighs with exasperation. “If it’s going to happen, it’ll happen. I can’t force it.”

“You’re not going to make it happen by staying in your apartment and only talking to men you meet at work,” Nora retorts. “At least think about making more of an effort?”

“Yes, Dr. Benson,” she says with an eye roll and a shake of her head. “I will think about making more of an effort.”

Her sweet girl grins. “Dr. Benson—I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that.”

“That works out well because I’m never going to get tired of saying it.”

“You proud of me?” Nora asks as she playful elbows her.

Olivia gives her a warm, loving look. “More than I can ever say, my love.”

Chapter Text

August 2012

All settled in!

Does that mean you actually unpacked?

Enough to find clean clothes.

Don’t leave it until you start working or it won’t happen.

Yeah, yeah.

September 2012 (14x02 – Above Suspicion)

How’s Cassidy doing?

Better – he should make a full recovery.

Glad to hear it :)

And you?

I’ve had better weeks.

You eating?

Yes, mom.

If I’m mom, then aren’t you supposed to listen to me?

That hasn’t been my experience.

October 2013

Skype dinner tonight?

I can’t.

Why? Big date?

Sort of.

WHAT?!?! WITH WHO?!?!?

You know him.

Well, that really narrows it down.

Brian

We talked when he was in the hospital.

You seduced an injured man?

We talked, that’s all.

Sure you did.

We’re Skyping this weekend.

I’ll need full details.

Well, not full. Just the PG version.

You are my mom after all.

We’re not having this conversation.

Not right now we’re not. But this

weekend we will.

We definitely won’t.

I’ll get it out of you.

I’m going to sleep now.

Hey - remember that time I walked

in on you guys?

Goodnight, Nora.

November 2013

I’m coming to the city this weekend.

Wanna see me?

Always.

No plans with the boyfriend?

Can we please not call him that?

Okay.

No plans with your manfriend?

You are the worst.

I think you mean the best.

I really didn’t.

Do I get to meet your manfriend?

You have.

More than once.

Not in his capacity as your manfriend.

Please stop calling him that.

You’re the one who said I can’t say

boyfriend.

I changed my mind.

Call him that all you want.

No can do. He’s officially your manfriend.

I’m really regretting teaching you to talk.

December 2012

Is it still okay for Sam to come

over on Christmas Day?

Of course.

I’ve fully briefed him. He’s looking forward to walking

with you to get the Chinese food when I

kick your ass at Clue.

Not going to happen.

This is my year.

I can feel it.

You tell yourself whatever you need to.

I think we both know who’s going to be

the Clue champion. Hint – she’s been the reigning

champion for two decades.

I hate so much that you’re probably right.

January 2013

Hey – there’s a conference at the

end of the month you might be

interested in. It’s a training for law

enforcement on emerging techniques

in sexual assault investigations. I

know a few of the presenters on one

of the panels, and it would definitely

be worth going to. Want me to send the details?

Yes, please.

Just emailed!

The panel’s called The Intersections of

Science and the Criminal Justice System.

There’s one panelist that I think you’ll

be especially excited about.

Got it – looking now!

Nora, is this for real?

Is what for real?

Panelist Bio: Dr. Nora Benson is a Post-Doctoral Fellow

at Yale University School of Medicine in the Post-Traumatic

Stress Disorder Laboratory. She is the author of multiple

publications on the trauma of sexual assault and

childhood abuse and its intersections with the

criminal justice system. As a member of our panel, Dr. Benson will

share the insights from her most recent article, “A Prosecutor’s

Guide to the Neurobiology of Sexual Assault.”

Well, I did say you’d be excited by one of the

panelists. And that it would be worth going to.

You interested in coming?

I’m on the fence. This Dr. Benson woman

seems like a bit of a smart ass.

Emphasis on smart :P

February 2013 (14x13 – Monster’s Legacy)

Hey – you at work?

Yes. Why?

I’m looking for my black hoodie. I

think I left it at the apartment when I came

home a few weeks ago. Can you check?

Yes, but it might be a while.

Big case?

Sort of.

Okay….

I’m helping out a friend, but it’s work related.

And this prevents you from checking to see

if my hoodie is at home?

I won’t be home for a while.

I’m in Ohio.

Seriously? For how long?

A few days.

You’re supposed to tell me when you

go out of town.

That rule’s just for you.

Yeah, I don’t think so.

This is for a case?

Essentially, yes.

Ah, so you’ve gotten yourself involved

in something extracurricular.

It’s related to a case.

Would your captain agree with that?

No comment.

Wait – are you using vacation days

for this extracurricular?

I have plenty.

I don’t think you understand what

the word vacation means.

Of course I do.

Merriam-Webster - Vacation – noun - a

period spent away from home or business

in travel or recreation. Does any part of what

you’re doing fit this description?

No comment.

March 2013 (14x18 – Legitimate Rape)

Are you busy this weekend, my love?

Just catching up on some work. Why?

Can I come up and see you?

For sure.

Everything okay?

Just a difficult week.

Bad case?

Yes.

How bad?

It hit close to home.

Is this about the sports reporter?

I saw a story online and wondered if that

was your case.

Yes and yes.

Did something happen?

She’s pregnant.

Come up today.

The weekend’s too far.

It’s only three days.

Please come—I’ll take the train down

tonight if you can’t.

You don’t need to do that.

You have work.

I seem to remember a woman repeatedly

telling me as a child that I was more

important than her job. That goes both

ways.

I’ll be fine, sweet girl.

Are you sure?

I really don’t mind coming down.

I’m positive.

I’ll see you this weekend.

Love you more than ice cream.

Love you more than chocolate.

April 2013

Guess who’s moving home?

You got the fellowship at Mount Sinai?!

I did indeed.

Congratulations!! I’m so happy for you, sweet girl.

Thanks :)

Official start date is in June. Mia and I are still thinking

about sharing an apartment, but she’s in Boston

until August. Know anyone I can crash with?

I might know someone.

She wouldn’t mind?

Not only would she not mind, she’d love it.

Will her manfriend mind?

Good god Nora, you’ve got to stop

calling him that.

I can’t. It’s too much fun picturing the

annoyed face you must be making when

you read it. But seriously, I wouldn’t be a

third wheel?

Not possible.

It’s your home.

Yeah, but it’s yours too.

Yes, and I say you’re more than welcome.