a/n: I know I have a couple other unfinished fics out there, but this was just in my head. It's a two shot, three at most. Obvs based on the limited info we've gotten so far - I never write stuff like this, but part two is already written regardless of Weds outcome. No promises.

It was late afternoon, and Ed found himself nursing a glass of bourbon at one of his frequent hang outs He didn't want to pressure Liv. Pushing Benson was never a good idea. He couldn't believe she was so willing to give up on them. At least that's what it felt like recently.

Olivia had actually seemed annoyed that he'd stopped by the precinct earlier that day. He didn't know how they'd gotten to this point. Just a few short months ago, they'd taken Noah to Paris, and he really felt like they were becoming a family.

Then just a few weeks ago, she'd said she was happier than she'd ever been. She'd even cried over the prospect of things not working out. She'd made time for him. For them.

So how did they find themselves here? He knew she was still struggling with Dodd's death. Then having to shoot a former cop to save Carisi took a toll. Unlike the beginning of their relationship when difficult cases brought them closer, lately the cases just seemed to be pulling her away from him.

"Tucker, you want another one?" Mick, the regular bartender asked. It was just early enough that the regular happy hour crowd wasn't there yet, so Ed was one of only a handful of patrons sitting at the large bar.

Ed didn't even realize he'd finished the first one, but he just gave a slight nod anyway. One more, and then he was heading home. Mick didn't bother with a fresh glass, instead just topping off the one Ed had before handing it back to him.

"You look like you just lost your best friend," Mick offered. Ed had been coming to this bar for twenty years, and Mick had been the day bartender for as long as he could remember.

Ed just grunted as he took a sip of his fresh drink. Mick had no idea how right he nearly was. He wasn't one to spill his personal problems to the bartender, no matter how long they'd known each other.

"Word of advice," Mick offered. "Then I'll leave you be. If it's got you this bad, it's probably worth fighting to fix it, keep it. Whatever it is." Mick gave Ed a half smile before he picked up the bar rag and went to clean up after a customer who just vacated his spot.

Ed scrubbed one hand down his face and swirled the bourbon in his glass. He had been fighting to keep her. But he couldn't force her to fight for them, too. He couldn't help it if she was letting her fear of losing what they had become the reason they were losing what they had.

He took another drink and got really honest with himself. He thought about Mick's "advice". He didn't know how to stop loving her. Her didn't know how to stop loving Noah. He felt like he was drowning. Caught between his love for her and her sudden reticence. He didn't want to pressure her. He couldn't make her want something she was too afraid to let herself want. His mind was reeling, and the bourbon suddenly lost it's appeal.

After a few more minutes, Ed made up his mind. He slid a few bills under the glass of his unfinished drink, nodded a hasty goodbye to Mick and headed out the door.