Tuckson Oneshot (I think). Benson recently reinstated, post-Manhattan Transfer and Unholiest Alliance

Benson was not having a good day.

After rotting in Community Affairs for several weeks, she found it difficult to regain her edge. It didn't help that her squad hadn't seemed to gel while she was away. Rollins and Fin, usually cordial and collegial, were at each other's throats, Carisi was distracted, and Dodds, well, she had never really warmed up to Dodds. She couldn't bring herself to trust Dodds. She couldn't trust anybody.

"Lieutenant?"

Benson looked up. Carisi was standing in the door with a bouquet of flowers—daffodils.

"They're not from me," Carisi quipped. He dropped them carefully on her desk, turned to leave, but spun around on his heel. "It's good to have you back, Lieutenant."

She nodded cordially, "It's good to be back." She wasn't so sure about that, but Carisi didn't need that information. Olivia did offer him a slight smile. After all, Sonny was the only squad member who was acting normally around her.

The flowers were from Tucker. She knew it before opening the card. He had been sending her flowers every week since she reclaimed her office at SVU. He had nothing better to do. Still waiting for his own reinstatement, he busied himself by picking up Noah from daycare some afternoons and looking after him for the entire day on Fridays, the day Olivia's flowers usually arrived. Tucker claimed Noah picked them out, but the symbolic meaning of each bouquet was well beyond her son's expertise. The first Friday he sent daisies (loyal love and cheerfulness), the next week he sent Gardenias (secret love), and today daffodils appeared, a dozen of them, and the card read, Daffodils for Olivia—joy and happiness forever. Love, E and N. She pictured Ed and Noah at the park, they were probably there now, and she smiled, satisfied and happy because Noah was satisfied and happy. Ed? She wasn't sure about him.

Benson slid the humungous glass vase to the corner of her desk, then moved it behind her; the floppy yellow blooms blocked her view of the squad room. She sent a quick thank-you text to Tucker who immediately responded with a photo of Noah sliding down a very tall slide.

"Be careful," she whispered to herself, staring at the picture. Noah's gleeful expression showed no fear. One little hand gripped the edge of the slide and the other gave the cameraman a little wave. Olivia heard Tucker's voice in her head.

"Wave to mommy, bud," Tucker had probably said. His backlit shadow was also in the photo, one of his own arms in the air, coaxing Noah into the pose. She noticed Tucker had overdressed her son, he wore a knit beanie, scarf, and his winter parka on this balmy April day.

She smiled at the phone, amused by how Ed, father of two grown daughters, tried so hard to prove he was a competent caregiver.

"Liv?"

"Fin, hey, what's going on?"

"We got a call. The two boys in Harlem who were missing?"

During her time in Community Affairs, Olivia did her best to keep abreast of SVU's cases thanks to Carisi and Rollins. Plus, she wasn't completely cut off from the NYPD, or the mainstream media, and the missing boys had been all over the news, their faces plastered on storefronts, train stations, and bus canopies around the cities. As she stewed in her cubicle, Benson continued to believe she and Tucker would be fully exonerated, cleared, and soon return to their old positions of power.

"Oh, no," Olivia responded to Fin's downcast expression.

"Yeah," he said softly, "Pulled one out of the Hudson. Boat rental guys spotted him."

"Go ahead with Rollins. I'll be right behind you." She felt a sudden surge of adrenaline. It felt good despite the horrific circumstances.

On the drive uptown to Riverside Park, Benson rehashed details of the case in her head. James Hayes and Jarvis Lewis, two seventh-graders, went missing after lacrosse practice two weeks ago. The boys were teammates on Harlem's elite PEP Club Lacrosse Team, an organization that targeted the most troubled neighborhood kids. PEP had offered a $10,000 reward for the boys' safe return. After their disappearance, volunteers and police investigators scoured their home turf, to no avail, until this morning's grisly discovery.

When Benson arrived on the scene, divers were preparing to enter the water in search of the second boy. Rollins, Fin, and other uniformed officers crouched around the body.

After two decades on the force, Benson had seen her share of dead bodies, but previously submerged corpses were the worst. The brackish river water mutated human tissue; the boy was an eerie pale gray with pinkish blots where river denizens had nibbled at him. The skin stretched, clinging to the bloated body, looking like, at any time, the boy's outer layer would simply split open. His closed eyes, nose, and lips bulged from his face, abnormally enlarged. Benson hoped news of the discovery would not quickly reach the neighborhood and the boys' families. No parent needed to see a child like this.

The unis scattered throughout the park, interviewing witnesses and notating the location of surveillance cameras, and the Medical Examiner walked in between Rollins and Fin. "I'll need to get him back to the morgue for identification," she waved over her crew who came in with a body bag. "When I get him on the table, I'll let you know for sure, but it doesn't look like he's been in too long."

"How long?" Rollins asked. "They've been missing for fifteen days."

She shrugged, "He's awfully clean for two weeks. Hardly any marks at all, and some of these look pre-mortem. But, like I said, I need to get him out of here to know for sure."

Olivia didn't entirely believe the ME. Looks like a lot of marks to me.

"Anything in his pockets?" Rollins asked.

"No pockets," Fin pointed out, "Those are lacrosse shorts."

"He's got a jersey on," Benson pointed out, "Flip him over."

The ME gently turned the boy halfway on his side so the detectives could inspect the back of the jersey.

"Hayes," Fin muttered the name printed in block lettering, "James. Number seven."

"DETECTIVES!"

A uni called over to them. Two members of the dive team had resurfaced and were standing on the concrete ledge, water beading on their black neoprene suits, and one of them held a sodden duffle bag.

"The press. They're here," Fin whispered to Olivia.

"Ok. Just, let's get him out of here," she implored, exasperated at the laggardly ME team. She then turned her attention to Rollins, "Amanda, get that bag secured and into evidence. Now."

"Got it."

"Lieutenant!" Carisi called to Olivia as he jogged toward her. "What's the situation?"

"Pulled one of the boys from the river about an hour ago. The divers found a bag. Fin's on his way to the ME's office, and Rollins is working with the dive team. Why don't you head over to the docks and start interviewing the guys at the yacht rental place. They're the ones who saw him first."

Carisi nodded dutifully.

Confident the scene was secure and the investigation was proceeding, Benson headed toward the press gaggle, about twenty people in all. Surely, more were on the way.

"Guys, I'm going to have to ask you to stay back behind the tape," she asked but really ordered, in the groove now, thrilled to be back in charge.

"Lieutenant Benson?" Olivia's least favorite news outlet, The Ledger, had sent one of their young guns, a squirrely, suspicious newbie who couldn't have been more than twenty years old. "Lieutenant? An update? Were both boys recovered?" He peered at her through thick black hipster glasses, his eyes wide and probing. He could care less about the case. He wanted a story.

Olivia spoke loudly and forcefully, "NYPD will have no comment at this time. Please give us time to do our jobs, to conduct the investigation, and you'll be informed when we're prepared to give a statement." The reporters fired unanswered questions at Benson as she walked away toward the river, leaving them corralled behind the yellow tape.

"Rollins, the bag?"

"On its way to the lab."

"Divers find anything else?"

"Nothing," she reported, "they want someone to look at the currents before they go in again. Said visibility is horrible. Also, something doesn't make sense. If he was thrown in up in Harlem, he would have drifted farther out in two weeks."

Benson looked around and spotted one of the divers. "Officer!"

"Yeah?" he replied, still breathless and shivering a bit.

"Were the bag and body caught in something?"

"I didn't recover the body," he pointed over to another diver, "he did, but they saw him just as the taxi was docking. It may have been. The bag was caught in some roots and rocks. We'll go back in, but we need to narrow the search area."

Benson mumbled her thanks. "Rollins!"

"Lieutenant?"

"Let's get to work pulling the footage from the street cams and the park cams. Also, canvass the area, most of the buildings on Riverside Drive have doormen, and cameras. We'll need warrants for the cameras, I'll get those, but the doormen may have seen something."

"Got it."

Olivia's phone vibrated. It was Fin, texting from the ME's office.

Autopsy on hold until tomorrow. Notification?

Benson told him to come back to the park to pick her up. They would go see the families together.

….

Noah removed his beanie and yanked at the neck of his parka. He delivered the cap to Tucker who then went to work unraveling the fleece scarf and unzipped the coat.

"Better?"

Noah shrugged off the coat. Ed shoved the hat and scarf in a sleeve, rolled the tiny parka into a cylindrical shape and tucked it under his arm. He surveyed the playground. An assortment of caregivers kept careful watch on their charges. Most were nannies with over-packed strollers, but there were also mothers and fathers and, Ed guessed, older brothers and sisters. The pleasant spring weather attracted a crowd.

He missed his gun. Suspension with pay meant he had to relinquish his weapon and his badge; this was the first time in his thirty-year career that he'd been suspended. Adding insult to injury was the fact that he was innocent. And, to make things even worse, the investigation was in its final stages. The independent panel enlisted to help SVU untangle the web of corruption in the Catholic Church, state government, and the NYPD had all but officially cleared him. Ed was in a holding pattern waiting for the official nod to return to his desk at IAB.

Tucker trailed Noah protectively as he darted from one apparatus to another. He held Noah as he navigated monkey bars, balance beams, and now the merry-go-round. Tucker helped him up onto the platform. "Hold on tight," he said. Noah grabbed the yellow plastic railing as directed. One of the nannies turned the kids slowly and the kids shrieked with delight. Tucker stepped back.

"Good to see some other dads here," A man, probably half Ed's age came and stood beside him. Ed sized the man up with a sideways look. Khaki cargo pants, fitted t-shirt (one of those that were supposed to look old but were actually new), baseball cap… he looked every bit the young, hip professional whose family and many others like his had rapidly invaded the west side in recent years. It was people like this who Ed blamed for the demise of the neighborhood's gritty, localized character, but he did appreciate being acknowledged as a father rather than a grandfather.

"Yeah, we're certainly outnumbered," Tucker joked, eyes still on Noah. Tucker didn't fully trust the merry-go-round or the nanny.

"How many do you have?"

How many?

Oh. Kids.

"Just one here," Ed pointed to Noah, not interested in explaining that he wasn't Noah's dad. "You?" He asked, feeling obligated to return the question.

"Two. One here, in the pink jacket. My oldest, Sam, is over at the monkey bars."

Ed nodded. He hadn't done small talk at the park for twenty years. He didn't know what to say or what he would possibly have in common with this guy.

Just then the nanny stopped the ride to allow other kids to hop on and Noah, who had been balancing himself fairly well, stumbled forward and hit his chin against the hard plastic bar. He froze, stunned, but then burst into tears and looked around frantically. "TUCK!"

Ed rushed over and held him tightly. He felt the moisture of Noah's tears on his neck. "It's ok. You're ok, buddy. Lemme see." He tipped the boy's head back and inspected his mouth. There was a bump forming on his chin and his lip was bleeding from a tiny cut. Tucker reached around in his pockets for a tissue but ended up using the corner of his polo shirt to dab the blood.

"Tuuuuuck," Noah whimpered, again using his usual moniker for Tucker. Ed brought him back against his chest. Noah wrapped his arms around Tucker's neck and buried his face into his shoulder, smearing more blood on the polo. He was no longer crying.

"Let's go get some ice on that lip," Tucker said, "and then we'll get some lunch."

….

Olivia arrived home that evening slightly later than expected and found Tucker in the rocking chair with Noah; Ed held Noah's boo bunny to the boy's chin. U2, older stuff, played softly from the iPad.

"Hey," she greeted them softly, "What happened?"

"He hit his chin at the park. Merry-go-round. Bloody lip, too. He'll have a bruise, but he took it like a champ."

Olivia picked up her son and cradled him, "Hi, sweet Noah. I missed you today." She noticed the bump and the slightly enlarged lower lip, but he would be fine. She was past the stage of worrying about every little cut and bruise. She shifted him to her hip and reached in her bag for a pair of manila folders. She handed them to Ed.

"Do you know these two?"

Tucker examined the photos. "What's going on?"

"The two boys we pulled from the river today? Well, they were part of PEP."

"That Lacrosse program for at-risk kids?"
"Yes. And these two cops are the only active-duty officers who volunteer there on a regular basis. It's mostly rookie cops and neighborhood people, but the witnesses we interviewed today said the boys spend a lot of time with these two."

"I know this one, Cartwright," Tucker held up the officer's photograph, "accused of taking bribes two or three years ago, but nothing stuck. And the accuser recanted."

Benson shook her head, "Kind of a big leap from bribery to murdering two thirteen-year-olds."
"The other one, I don't know him, but I know his captain. He's sketchy. We've never dealt with him at IAB, but I knew him coming up."

"Sketchy? How?" Olivia was on the sofa now, across from Ed who still held the pastel green boo bunny between his thumb and index finger.

"Liked prostitutes. Strip clubs. Hard core drinker. Profanity every other word. Just a nasty guy." Tucker flipped through their jackets absent-mindedly, not looking for anything in particular, but it felt good to do something cop-like again.

"We don't have anything solid," Olivia explained, "still going through cameras trying to figure out where and how the boys got into the park. And then, of course, into the river."

"That's a lot of cameras."

"Several hundred."

"Squad on it now? I thought you would be later than this."

"Rollins and Carisi are going to spend another couple hours on the cameras and then re-canvass in the morning. We also have some people from the Harlem precinct going through the footage, too. They don't need me now. I told them to call if they found something."

Olivia put Noah down, walked over to Ed, grabbed both hands, and pulled him up so his face was as close to hers as possible without touching. "How are you?"

She studied his expression carefully. Her question was sincere and multilayered; she had been asking it a lot lately. Ed knew she wanted to know how the day went, but she was also concerned about how he was dealing with being away from IAB. She knew the suspension damaged his psyche, nicked his confidence, and she also suspected caring for Noah would soon become a burden rather than a welcome distraction which Ed insisted it was.

"I'm great when you're here," he did his best to sound upbeat, but his blue eyes conceded only dejection. "We had a good day. I fed him, but I waited for you," he kissed her lightly on the forehead, "you look happy," He did his best to sound cheerful for her. They were both mired in despondency lately, and he was genuinely happy at least one of them was resurfacing.

Olivia was trying her best not to look happy. This tragic and heart-wrenching day included, for her, a silver lining; she had been propelled back into NYPD's real world and hadn't missed a beat. "It was good," she admitted, "but this case, it's going to be tough, especially if those two are involved. It could get ugly. Again." Olivia rolled her eyes, "I cannot believe this, more dirty cops."

"I can poke around a little bit tomorrow," Tucker offered.

"Just be careful, Ed, you're so close to being reinstated."

"I know," he wanted to change the subject, "so, do you want to eat? Noah had pizza. I can order something else, or…"

Olivia released Ed from her embrace and grabbed the iPad, "Noah," she addressed her son sweetly, "I'm going to put a video on for you, sweet boy." Noah, looking sleepy, went over to his child-sized bean bag chair and happily began watching the animation. Olivia covered him with a blanket.

"He'll be out soon," she took Ed's hand, "Come on."

…

One of the things Tucker loved about being with Benson was that their lovemaking was always different and exciting in its own unique way, depending on circumstances. Tonight, Olivia sensed Ed needed to be in control, to be the Man, the commander…the Captain, and she submitted to him as he gently lifted her onto the bed. Appreciative and overcome with affection for her, he was tender and careful and proceeded more slowly than usual, trying to soak up every last bit of her and savor the moment. Afterward, they lay facing one another. For a while they were silent and just stared into each other's eyes; Olivia's hands were tucked under her head, and Ed, unable to resist touching her, ran his fingers along the outline of her body. Then, he thanked her.

This bewildered Olivia. She could not recall ever having been thanked after sex, and Ed's "thank you" was so raw with emotion, it nearly brought her to tears.

"For what?" She whispered.

"It would have been easier for you to think I had done something wrong."

Olivia reached over and touched his face, "I never thought you did anything wrong. Not for one second."

"So even if we weren't together? You would've still stuck by me?"

Olivia furrowed her brow, "I don't know if I can answer that. It's too hypothetical. I knew you were innocent because we're together, because I know you, because you looked me in the eyes and told me you didn't do anything." She couldn't believe it. Ed Tucker's eyes were glassy. Not quite full of tears, but close. "I trust you."

He held her hand, "I trust you, too."

"Everything will be back to normal soon," she assured him, "and now that…everyone knows about us, that's one less thing to worry about."

"I never want to worry about us."

"Then, like you said, if there's ever a conflict—"

"No," he interrupted, "I don't mean with work. I mean you and me, right here, whatever happens, ever, I want to know, this, us, right here, this won't go away."

With each passing day and conversation, Tucker continually surprised her by adding more and more layers to his non-IAB self, and, consequently, kept adding more and more depth to Olivia's love for him. She appreciated how hard it was for him to say what he just said, and she tried to sound as comforting as possible. "It won't," she assured him. "I promise."

Tucker leaned over and kissed her, still staring into her eyes. Just as he was pulling her body toward him, Benson's phone vibrated.

She pulled away, "I'm sorry, I—"

"I understand." He really did.

She looked at the screen and collapsed, exasperated, against the pillows. "They found something on the cameras. I have to go."

"Ok."

"I'll call Lucy."

"What for? I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't want—"

Ed sure had been doing a lot of interrupting lately. "Olivia. Go. I'm here. I'll put Noah to bed and I'll be here when you get back."

She leaned over, half-clothed, and kissed him. "And then we'll have dinner?"

"I'll wait."

Olivia rushed from the bedroom to finish prepping to go back to the precinct. Tucker propped himself up against the pillows, hands clasped behind his head, and smiled, content, soaking up the serenity of the moment.

Oneshot or Chapter One? Review or let me know fid2916 on Twitter. Thanks for reading!