Set immediately after Manhattan Transfer. One-shot. I hope I was able to show their reactions to losing their jobs accurately...fingers crossed.

He knew something was wrong. Her text had only read "Precinct. Now. I need you." So the meeting went 1PP hadn't gone well. He hadn't expected a resolve but when she wouldn't answer her cell after that text message, he knew it was worst than he anticipated.

The precinct was oddly quiet when he walked inside. Except for a desk sergeant, the remainder of the lights were off, desks empty. Her office, however, was still illuminated.

He wasn't prepared for the sight when he walked in.

Her rims of her eyes were bright red, the make-up had worn off her cheeks, but she wasn't crying. Her head was bowed over the desk, hair covering most of her face and he could still see the outline of her mouth. She was stoic, attempting and failing to be emotionless. She reminded Ed of himself.

"Olivia…?" He didn't want to startle her but he needed some kind of explanation. Her nameplate, her photos of Noah, her laptop were all in boxes on her desk. 1PP couldn't have…no, she was an innocent party in this. They wouldn't do this much based solely on association with him.

"What the hell happened?"

She held up her hand to stop him without looking up.

"I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked." She finally made eye contact with him.

"1PP knew. They knew about….us." The sentence finishes with a hiss and the hurt was apparent in her voice.

"What did you tell them?" It wasn't accusatory; he was hoping she had the chance to defend him, to defend them, or to somehow put even a tiny ounce of sense back into the situation.

"That you were being set up by Father Eugene. Then they suspended me before I could say anything else. It…It hard to be Barba. He's the only one who knew." It had to be, right? She mentally went through all the times they had been in public together, especially lately. They'd become more careless in their outings, someone could have seen them. Dodds Jr? His father? Her mind was reeling with possibilities.

"It's going to ok. We'll figure this out. C'mere." He rounded her desk until he was next to her. She didn't lift her palms from their position flat on the wood. Her fingernails were white above the unforgiving surface.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, slowly attempting to turn her toward him. She yielded and sunk into him, her cheek connecting with his, her hand on the back of his head. It was reassuring to her to know that despite the rug being pulled out from under her, she could still find reprieve in him.

"What about you?" It figures that hours after losing her job, she would be so selfless to think of him. And once he had seen her slumped over her desk, the thought of his own demise had left him.

If they had suspended her for so little as a bias toward him, he was surely done for.

"We'll see tomorrow." He tried to maintain confidence as his hand smoothed up and down her back. It was merely a distraction to keep his hands from shaking. He was screwed.

They had to trust that Carisi and Rollins would sort this out. Dodds…well Dodds was getting the promotion his father badly wanted. It was unlikely that he would jump at the chance to exonerate his ex-boss.

"Let's go home. It's late. Your boy is waiting for you." That at least made her smile, though Tucker could see the overlying sadness still evident in her eyes.

He stacked her boxes, one on top of the other and walked out of her office. She made it so far as the door before she stopped, her hand paused on the light switch.

Cragen had once told her to do something with the place. And she had. Rollins had blossomed into a bright, capable, and often overeager detective, not unlike herself in her younger days. Carisi had divided himself surprisingly well between law school and SVU and his passion for both law and the victims had been a valuable asset. Fin was her everlasting voice of reason, her strength in a storm. She'd even taught Dodds how to better speak to victims.

She'd barely turned off the light when she was struck by everyone's empty desks. The place where Amaro once sat. The desk she stood at as she packed up Elliot's belongings into a box not unlike the one Tucker was holding now. A box that still sat in the back of her closet at home. In this moment, she had to force herself to say goodbye. She had thought about it, especially now with a son at home and what looked like a promising relationship. Sometimes when sleep eluded her, she imagined her final day at SVU, handing the squad off to capable hands, a retirement party, maybe even a visit from Cragen and Munch to say their goodbyes. There would be tears, happy ones. And it would be good.

It would not be this. It would not be her slamming her badge down on the table at 1PP and storming out. There wouldn't be yelling and cursing with her voice shaking and her eyes brimming with tears.

It was a strange mixture of admiration and heartbreak as he watched her ghost her fingers over the desks and the paperwork, as she paused to look at the photos in frames. She'd come so far since her first met her. Her oversized business suits and her no-nonsense haircut always amused him. At first interaction, he thought she was trying too hard to be one of the boys. Weeks later he realized that wasn't the case. She truly cared about each and very victims and how she was perceived physically was irrelevant. Now, more comfortable in her own skin and her position in the squad room, she'd become the cop she always thrived to be. And here he was, powerless as it was all stripped from her.

"You'll be back you know." When she froze at his words, it was clear she had forgotten he was still there. She met his gaze, and opened her mouth as if to speak. Instead she paused, chewed on her lip for a second and sighed. When she finally spoke she sounded more defeated then he had ever seen in his 14 years of history with her.

"I'm glad one of us thinks so."

Her alarm went off at 5:30am. She reached over to the nightstand to press snooze when it hit her…she doesn't need to. She doesn't even need this alarm because she isn't going into work today. She has nowhere to be.

She had always liked that idea. It was a familiar weekend routine for her and Noah. But she can't remember a time she truly had a real vacation day in the middle of a workweek. She wanted to be like one of those upper west side moms who rose early, practiced yoga and made breakfast for the family. They padded around the house barefoot in leggings and sweaters, their faces makeup free, sipping herbal tea and slowly getting their children ready for school. She thought she envied them. But now, her first day of unemployment felt nothing like that. She was anxious, her skin felt like it was crawling and the hairs on her arms were standing up straight. When she sat up, her back popped, her neck ached and her eyes were slightly swollen from the crying of yesterday. She didn't feel like a fresh upper west side mom ready to take on the day; she felt….old.

The side of the bed next to her was empty and cold, Tucker must have been up hours ago, if he even slept at all. When she finally started to doze off last night, her head tucked into his shoulder and her arm around his chest, he continued to squirm. He mumbled that he couldn't feel his arm as he flipped her into a spooning position. That lasted all of 3 minutes before her hair was too much in her face or his neck was in an awkward position. Anyone else might be hurt at the lack of comfort after such a trying day, but it was so clearly Tucker. He used any other excuse to keep from mentally breaking at the thought of his own Group 1 investigation this morning.

The wooden floor was cold beneath her feet as she climbed out of bed and grabbed a robe. Spring was starting to peak through, but the March morning was still reminiscent of the bitter cold of winter. Tucker, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind. He was clad in nothing but boxers, coffee in his hand, as he watched the street below from the kitchen window.

"Hey there." Her voice was still husky from sleep as she came up behind him, her arms wrapping around his middle.

"Feeling better?" He threw an arm around her shoulders, nudging her closer until her head was under his chin. She tilted her chin up at him as he dipped down to give her a quick kiss.

"Are you?" Avoidance of the question, her forte. With that, his lips latched onto her's once again. He reached behind him to set the coffee mug into the sink, never breaking contact. She went to work deepening the kiss, her hands looped under his arms, pulling his strong frame against her. "Ed, you're getting distracted." It was a weak protest as she bit back a moan because his lips had moved to her jawline. He kissed down the column for her neck and her nails dug into his back.

"Oh I'm very focused." His hands slid into the front of her robe until he was palming each breast. She arched into him, the situation quickly escalating as he started to push the robe from her shoulders.

"We… should talk strategy." Her words were merely a murmur because he was sliding under the edge of her tshirt.

He groaned at her words. "Isn't this more fun?" A quick glance the microwave clock told him they were out of time. He was due with Group 1 in just under 40 minutes.

"Olivia…" She usually loved it when he said her full name. It felt new, dangerous, like he was spilling a secret to the world. This time, his strength was gone and only defeat filled the empty space. "There is no strategy. Like I said, I'm loathed by half of NYPD. I'll be surprised if I even get a chance to defend myself."

His hands were outside of her robe then, on her shoulders. He was holding her steady in the same manner she did outside the church. When he'd damn near lost his mind, she was there to bring him back down to earth. Now he had to do the same for her. "We have to have some faith that the investigation will pan out. We sorted it all out when you were framed for murder, didn't we?"

She shot him a look. She could hear Noah rustling around then, climbing out of his toddler bed. As she made her way into his room she jokingly called back to Tucker, "That wasn't you. My squad saved me."

My squad.

But it wasn't her squad anymore and she'd said it without thinking. The slip up cost her because the tears were threatening to come back and she wanted to scream because Tucker couldn't keep saying it was going to be ok. He doesn't know that. He doesn't know.

The knock on her door startled her and she assumed the worst. Her squad coming to check in on her, Nina running to her in danger or to seek revenge, could be 1PP coming to arrest her for all she knew.

She cracked up the door, just the slightest amount to get a picture of who was on the other side.

"Oh Lucy. I'm sorry, I forgot to call, I won't be needing you today."

Lucy looked surprised and Liv couldn't blame her, she couldn't remember a day during the week that Lucy wasn't at the apartment.

"Ok. Tomorrow?" She was fishing. But that information was far too private to reveal.

"Umm. Not tomorrow. You know what? I'll just let you know next time I need you." It felt a little like firing the girl as she closed the door.

It was deafeningly quiet now with Tucker gone. She'd cleaned the apartment, done laundry, fed Noah, done dishes, went for a quick, but chilly walk, and organized her closet. Hell, she even checked out Instagram, after hearing about it for years. She found Rollins' page, full of pictures of her and Jesse, and an oddly large amount of Carisi as well. That felt too personal and too much like an invasion of privacy for her to dip into. She plopped down on the couch and checked her watch as Noah played with blocks at her feet. 11am. Shit.

The day was going by painfully slow. She suddenly admired those moms who stayed at home all day and still maintained their sanity. But that also meant it had been hours since Tucker left for his meeting and still no word. She unlocked her phone screen once again to check. Nothing. She stared down his contact information, her finger picking at the corner of her phone cover as she willed herself not to call him. He could be still in the meeting, he could be speaking with other people…or he could be in jail, he could have gone after Father Eugene….

She couldn't stand the crawling feeling any longer as she pressed 'call.'

Straight to voicemail.

3pm.

Don't open the wine, don't open the wine.

It had been 7 hours since Tucker left. She expected him to call, text, something to let her know what the results of the Group 1 meeting was. She expected that even in the midst of heartbreak, he would come to her. She didn't expect him to be the man to back down in times of trouble, he had never been before. Yet here she was, 7 hours later. Alone and her calls to him going straight to voicemail.

Her mind immediately went back to this morning, replaying ever moment, the way his hands touched her, his lips kissed her. There wasn't any hesitation there. Had she said something that pushed him away? If they hadn't been so distracted by one another, would they have caught onto Father Eugene before it got to this point? Fuck all this thinking, fuck 1PP for firing her, Father Eugene for setting them up. Fuck putting 17 years of commitment into something to watch it washed away in the blink of an eye…she opened the wine.

This entire day was bullshit. For her own piece on mind, she needed Tucker to answer his phone. But the lieutenant part of her, the part of her that ran a squad for the last few years, that part ached to know what was happening in the squad room. Was Dodds destroying the delicate camaraderie she worked so carefully to create? What was Fin's reaction when he went in this morning after vacation?

By the end of the bottle, she felt a little bit better. She hoped she was calming down but it was likely the numbing effects of the merlot. Almost mindlessly, she looked down to see that her fingers that plugged in the squad number into her phone. It felt a little bit dangerous to be calling them, that tiny thrill, the adrenaline of her job and feeling she loved came rushing back.

"Manhattan Special Victims Unit, this is Detective Carisi." Her throat immediately closed. This was a terrible decision. "Hello? Is someone there?"

"Carisi, it's Benson." She didn't sound like herself. She sounded distant, worn down. The strong commanding voice was replaced by someone meek, frightened. She hoped she didn't sound buzzed as well.

"Lieutenant! What happened?" He was over eager as usual.

"Shhh, don't draw attention." She was embarrassed enough as it was. The heat was rising in her cheeks just talking to him, she didn't need to entire squad asking questions.

"We heard. From Sergeant Dodds. He filled is in this morning. They got both you..." He paused. "And Tucker." He whispered like the secret of their relationship wasn't already smeared across the NYPD. He knew they'd fired Tucker, before she did. Word traveled fast, but not that fast. The decision was probably made hours ago.

Then it struck her. If this was Brian, she would sit here until he came home, making excuses for why he hadn't called. She would blame herself, her lack of communication. There was always something, a busy day, a therapy session. She had vowed long ago to make this relationship different, something lasting. If he wanted to run, if he wanted out, she needed to hear it firsthand. She wasn't doing to do the same thing she did with Brian, dancing around each other for weeks until someone finally waved a white flag. If he was going to bail, she wanted to hear it from his lips.

"Carisi, you still there? I have to go." She'd been silent for far too long.

"Yeah Lieutenant. But before you go. I know you didn't do this. I'm working on getting you cleared." She actually smiled at his words, grateful she didn't have to explain herself further to him.

"I appreciate that. And…." She hesitated. "Do me a favor, don't tell anyone I called, ok?"

Before she left, she made one more phone call.

"Lucy, are you still free? It looks like I need you today after all."

They'd had their first drink in this bar. That night, it was packed to the brim as they stood shoulder to shoulder sipping on bourbon.

Today he was in nearly the same spot but his posture was markedly different. He hadn't removed his jacket, his shoulders are slumped forward and only a portion of his grey hair could be seen from where his head dropped low. He reminded her of the resident bar-goer. The one that glares at younger patrons while mumbling about the good-ol' days.

Her immediate response was anger. She didn't know where it comes from but the second she sees him drinking alone; she feels it. It's hypocritical of her, sure, but she doesn't care. She's stomping toward him, the adrenaline starting to kick her heart rate into overdrive because how dare he not even call when he knows she spent all morning worrying not only about her future but his.

Her fingers dug into his shoulder, whipping him around to face her.

"You son of a bitch." She barely finished cursing him when his arms were around her. For a second she stood frozen in shock, her arms daggling uselessly at her sides. He leaned her head onto his shoulder awkwardly, his hands on her back. But it wasn't just the hug that made her lose her breath. His fingers were clutching her and he squeezed her body like he was clinging to life itself.

His voice was rough; full of sorrow, when he muttered in her ear and it immediately pulled her out of the small buzz she had remaining.

"I failed you."

It was there, in the middle of the day in a dirty bar in Manhattan that Ed Tucker broke.

It was clear the day had beat him down. His eyes were rimmed with red, his hair, usually straight and perfectly in place seemed mussed, like he'd spent the entire day running his fingers through it.

The bourbon was mostly untouched, ice melting and forming a layer of water above the alcohol.

"We need to talk." Her heart sank as he led her by hand into a nearby booth.

"I guess you are wondering what Group 1 said." He sat facing her, his hands clasped together on the wooden table in front of him like he was in an interview.

"By now I've guessed." The words came out angrier than she'd anticipated, than she'd intended.

He didn't respond but it was obvious the words hit him hard. His gaze dropped down to the table. She could see chest expanding more than usual, trying to suck in more air and calm down.

Finally, he spoke up. "I never meant for this to happen. But hey…hey," He waited for her to make clear eye contact with him. "You know I wasn't running."

She deserved more of an explanation than that. She also wanted to continue to be angry with him but it was proving more difficult by the second. The no-nonsense Tucker that she knows, the one that with the stoic expression and take no prisoners attitude, was a complete 180 from the Tucker sitting in front of her now. This Tucker looked shell-shocked, distraught, his sense of direction gone.

"What was I suppose to say? That they not only stripped me of the badge and gun, fired me, but I'm being investigating for a sex trafficking ring and murder? They want me in prison. They were talking about jail time. The entire thing is ridiculous." His fist slammed into table causing her to jump.

"This wasn't the best way to handle this, I realize it now. But the second I walked out of that office, all I could think was that I let you down."

"How, Ed? You are being set up. I know this. I just…fuck, I wanted to hear from you at least." She reached across the table to grab hold of his hand, much liked he'd done for her the day before.

"But it is because of me that you were dragged into this mess. I didn't want you to have to stick your neck out for me. You lost your job over me." When his voice dropped lower, Benson's stomach dropped. He sounded so final, like he was preparing her for an end.

This was it. A sink or swim moment that every couple faces. The one that shows you can battle the rough seas together or fracture at the seams. And they had a history, a long one, but it was built on a rocky foundation.

"Are you saying…you don't want this?" She shoved her bangs back from her forehead and looked him square in the eye like she was preparing for battle.

He started laughing. Not a full-out laugh, but enough of a chuckle that she was starting to feel embarrassed at her question.

"Don't laugh at me."

"It's comical, Benson. That you think I would run from you. Here I am in a bar in the middle of the week, trying to drown my sorrows because I thought you were going to question our entire relationship over this. And you are worrying that I'm leaving."

It hit her like a fright train. Of all the men she'd known in her life, Fin was the only one still standing. God knows where Elliot ran off to, Amaro had his life in California, Munch and Cragen were living up their retirement, even Cassidy, only a heartbeat away in IAB didn't speak to her anymore. It was something she had wrestled with her years in therapy. The idea that it wasn't her fault those men were out of her life. Even though they had their reasons for leaving, deep down she had secretly wondered if there was something so unlovable about her that after a few years, everyone wanted to move on.

"14 years."

He didn't respond, allowing her to gather her thoughts. Her eyes were starting to prick with tears, but she was almost starting to smile.

"I've known you for 14 years. I hated you for a lot of them. But even when we were at odds with each other…you stuck it out. I…" She wasn't ready to say those 3 words just yet, but she was getting close. "I'm just really glad I have you on my team."

With that, he slid out of his seat and over to her side of the booth. His index finger hooked under her chin, as he tilted her head up to look at him.

"What can I say, I have a soft spot for beautiful headstrong women." When he dipped down to kiss her, it was a stark contrast from this morning. His lips pressed into her's, his hands threaded through her hair. He was giving her 14 years worth of 'I'm sorry' in that kiss. As he dragged his lips across hers, there was something else there. Hope. Hope for them, hope for their future. She wasn't squirming with the need to run and neither was he. When he pulled back, she kept her eyes closed, breathless at the exchange.

He kissed her quickly once more as she opened her eyes. They were clearer this time, more determined than he'd seen all day.

"Let's get you home." His fingers threaded through hers and he started to pull her from the booth. He was halfway out, standing up when he yanked him back to stop him.

"Community Affairs called today. They want me."

"And?"

"And….I think I am going to take it." She didn't sound 100% sure but he knew she wouldn't feel better until she was back helping others in some way. And it was a start, maybe not a step forward, probably a step backward; but it would get her out of the house. She would start to stand on her own two feet again.

"Good." He started to smile, this time his eyes lit up as well. He placed his hands on either side of her head as he spoke, "You know they wear polos, right?"

The look on her face was priceless.