Chapter 11: Starting Over

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Author's Note: First of all, I am SO sorry for the delay. I got horrible writers block (it happens a lot) and I struggle with this story sometimes. Even more so after Manhattam Tranfer, dammit.

That episode threw a wrench in my plan for this story but I'll try to work with it. Benson has been transferred to Community Affairs and Barba is aware of her relationship with Tucker. It's not clear from canon that the rest of the squad knows about the relationship, only that she was removed from command. So, yeah, things are a little complicated with White on the loose, plus being let go from command.

When I first started this story, Nick was a part of it and Liv was a Sergeant. But we all know what happened last and this season so… I'm going to try to make this story as close to canon as possible. Yeah, I know, I know – this is what happens when I don't update in forever.

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Your first day at Community Affairs was mortifying. Oh, the people there were nice enough but you're no dummy, you could spot them looking at you when they thought your back was turned. There goes Olivia Benson, you imagine them whispering to themselves, thought she was such a hotshot, now she's little better than a traffic cop.

You were probably just imagining the looks of scorn and contempt but you felt so exposed now in a cubicle surrounded by half a dozen others, with little to no privacy at all. Not only that but you were unfamiliar with this division, which just made you feel like you were starting all over again. Like you were back in your rookie days.

The phone call only made the day worse.

You had slid into your cubicle with your customary cup of coffee, having left Ed fast asleep on his couch. It had been a late night for both of you. And you had drunk one too many glasses of wine – something that wasn't unusual for you these days. So not only had you been forced to wear a godawful polo and polyester pants, but you also had a mother of a hangover.

You gulped down your coffee gratefully, trying to push the events of the week behind you. Trying to forget the look of disappointment in Barba's eyes when he had said, "We are done talking." Rafael had been so hurt, the pain so visible on his face, it had struck you like a knife to the chest. How could you not tell me, his face had said, we were friends, Olivia. You should have trusted me. But you had no response to his silent accusations and had simply walked away.

He hasn't talked to you since. But, although there was a rift between you now, a gap as wide as the Grand Canyon, you're fairly certain he hadn't been the one to rat you out to 1PP. Someone else had. Who it was, you had no idea, but you definitely had your suspicions. And so did Ed.

Just then your phone rang.

"Benson." You snapped, still trying to get rid of that headache with a copious amount of coffee. That bitter brew had become your best friend in the last several years – and you blamed Barba for that. You smile to yourself, remembering the times that he had refused to say one word until he had at least two cups of coffee.

"Nope. Still not talking to you." He'd say, raising his finger. "Not before caffeine." You were never offended because you definitely understood. But that didn't stop you from teasing him about his incurable caffeine addiction.

"You're hopeless, Rafael Barba."

"I know." He'd grin at you. "But you know you love me."

"In your dreams." You'd roll your eyes.

You missed him. Goddamn the people who had done this to you. Goddamn the people who had set Ed up so neatly. You swore you were going to get them if that was the last thing you did as an active member of the NYPD.

Along with taking down a certain someone who was still lurking in the shadows.

"Well, good day to you too, what is it, Officer Benson now?" The insidious tone of an all-too familiar voice set the hair on your neck on edge. Of course he knew about this already. He knew everything. Not that they had tried to keep this at all quiet; 1PP had been quite delighted to let you hang out to dry.

"How the hell did you get this number, White?" You snap.

"Ah, ah, ah." White scolds you obnoxiously. "It wouldn't be fair to give away my secrets now, would it?"

"Fuck you." You spit, ignoring the raised eyebrow of another officer in a neighboring cubicle. You really hated the lack of privacy in this place. Such nosy gossips cops could be – especially when they had such fodder for gossip as someone like you. Everyone wanted to know every little detail about Olivia Benson, disgraced former SVU squad commander.

To hell with that, you weren't going to give them the satisfaction.

"What do you want?" You say angrily. "I'm not in the mood for games."

"It isn't your choice, detective." He spat back. "I spent years in prison because of you. You aren't calling the shots anymore. I am. So you better watch your attitude. "

"We're going to get you, White. And when we do you're going straight back to prison, where you belong."

"Promises, promises." He sang tauntingly. "You have to find me first. Hopefully, before I get to that cute little boy of yours."

"Leave Noah out of this." Your hand clutches your phone so tightly you fear it might break.

"You made all the players fair game when you put me in prison." He growls. "Do you even know what they did to me there? Do you, Olivia?"

"It was nothing compared to what you put those women through." You hiss back.

"Don't try to make me feel sorry for you."

"Oh, don't worry, you won't be feeling sorry for me when this is all over." He chuckled, sending chils up your spine. "You might be for your boyfriend, though."

You freeze.

"Oh, yes, Olivia, I know all about him. The Captain in IAB, right? The gruff silent type? Grey hair? Being investigated in connection to a sex scandal? My, your tastes certainly have changed, Olivia."

You don't respond because you know that's what he wants. Instead, you stay silent, forcing down the bile and nausea.

"So how exactly did you meet?" He asks you conversationally.

And you lose it a little.

"This conversation is over, White."

"It's over when I say it is."

So you hang up the phone. Little fucker.

It rings again.

You don't pick it up.

It keeps on ringing. So you put it on silent and toss it in your cubicle drawer.

And your day just keeps going downhill from there. Your new boss seems like a decent person but right now you trust very few people – because you're really not sure how far up this conspiracy goes. So you keep to yourself.

"Keep your head down and out of trouble." Ed had counseled you, after the shattering meeting with 1PP and your subsequent department from the sixteenth. "And, for god's sake, Olivia, be careful. These people will do anything to cover their own asses."

"You're that convinced Eugene is guilty?" You'd asked him, holding his hand.

"Eugene was always a spineless idiot." He'd scoffed, looking disgusted. "But he's clever too. Always managed to pick the winning side – even if he had to throw a few people under the bus along the way."

"But you don't think it starts with him?"

"Hell, no. He's not that smart. I think there's someone else pulling the strings – and that someone has real clout with the NYPD. Cara must really have had something on them."

"I'm just sorry I couldn't save her." You had said with regret.

He had gripped your hand reassuringly. "You can't save 'em all, Benson. No matter how hard you try."

But you never like hearing that. Why couldn't you save them all? Why did some of them have to die? It was never enough for you to hear, "you can't save them all." Every time you lost someone, you felt like it was a personal failure on your part.

Oh, it was easy enough to tell someone else "it wasn't your fault" but it was impossible for you to tell yourself that and actually believe it.

You pick up your phone and this time you take it outside. You really don't want people overhearing this particular conversation. God only knows you've already given them enough to gossip about.

"Tucker." He sounds tired. Worn out. And maybe he's a little discouraged too. He's never been the one to be accused of being dirty before, so this is a new position for him.

"How are you?" You ask, concerned. You've never heard that note in his voice before, that note of defeat and weariness. And you're a little scared.

"Hanging in there." You can hear a sigh in his voice.

"Any news?"

"Of the investigation?" He asks. "No one is saying anything. Not even my partner has given me much. This thing must go real high up because nobody's talking."

"Shit." You say.

"Tell me about it. How was your first day?"

You roll your eyes. "Have I ever told you how much I absolutely despite these polo shirts?"

Ed barks out a laugh.

"It's not funny." You growl.

"I know it's not." He says in sympathy. "But when that's your first complaint? Compared to everything else going on, that's a bit funny. C'mon, Benson, laugh a little."

Despite the situation, you find yourself laughing a little. Because he's right. You've been removed from command and are being stalked by a murderer and the thing you complain about is a lousy polo shirt.

"I heard from him." You're a little surprised to hear that come out of your mouth. With all the stress in his life – in your life – you had wanted to spare him worrying about White.

You could hear a pin drop, he was so quiet.

"Ed?"

"I'm still here." He says and there's a tone in his voice that promises nothing good once he gets his hands on Richard White. "Did you get the number?"

"No, it was private. Probably calling from a burner cell."

"That fucker." Tucker spat. "Liv, I'm staying with you again tonight."

"Ed," you protest, "that's not necessary." Because, really, you can take care of yourself. You don't need someone watching over you. Plus, no matter how much you like Tucker, you're not used to having anyone else but Noah with you – and you do relish your privacy.

"Olivia," he says in his don't argue with me voice. And you sigh with resignation because you've heard that tone before and when he gets that way, really, there's no use arguing.

"Okay," you say reluctantly, "but we're ordering Chinese this time."

"I insist on white rice, then. None of that healthy brown rice crap."

You chuckle. "White rice it is."

"In the meantime, do not go anywhere alone, do you hear me?"

Again, you roll your eyes. "Tucker, I do not need to be coddled. I also don't want to put my life on hold because of this asshole. Then he wins."

The sigh on the other end of the phone indicates that he's conceding your point but he isn't happy about it.

"Okay, just...be careful, all-right? I don't want to lose you."

"You won't." You smile softly at your phone.

"See you tonight?"

"Absolutely. See you later, Ed."

"Can't wait, Olivia."

And when he hangs up, there's a small smile on your face. Because it's nice to finally have someone in your corner. Someone fighting for you.