For The Hope Of It All

by SurprisinglyTeamTuckson

Summary:

Even when the future is uncertain, hope is a fight worth holding on for.

Notes:

T/W - This story contains sensitive themes of suicide and terminal illness - please read with care.

Chapter 1

Her phone buzzed against the nightstand.

Olivia groaned, fumbling in the dark until her hand found it. The glow of the screen burned her tired eyes—3:12 a.m.

The number was unfamiliar. She almost ignored it, if it wasn’t a squad call-out, it wasn’t important at three am, but something made her open the message.

Hi Olivia, it’s Patty. Ed’s wife.

She blinked. The words didn’t register at first, her brain rejecting them as though they didn’t belong together. Patty. Ed’s wife.

Her chest tightened as she scrolled down.

Sorry it’s late, but Ed hasn’t come home. I got your number from Cole, he said you caught up with Ed last night. Have you heard from him?

Her stomach dropped.

Why did she hesitate? She had seen him. Hours ago. A brittle conversation over coffee. Regret spilling between words, but no lines crossed. Nothing happened.

And yet her pulse stumbled as she typed back:

Hi Patty, no, sorry. We left the café around six. He said he was heading to The Barrel to  meet with some HNT guys.

She hit send. Almost instantly, the phone buzzed again.

I called the  bar.  They said he left around midnight. If you hear from him, can you please tell him to call me?

She replied.

Sure.

The word felt hollow. Inadequate.

Her thumb hovered over his contact. She swallowed against the dryness in her mouth and pressed call.

The ring droned in her ear. Once. Twice. Three times.

At least it wasn’t straight to voicemail.

***

Ed sat hunched in his old leather chair, a half-empty glass of bourbon dangling from one hand, a pen gripped in the other.

His phone buzzed on the desk.

Liv.

He stared at the screen. Let it vibrate. Watched it go dark.

Then he set the pen down beside the gun.

***

Liv redialled, slower this time. More focused than frantic.

Voicemail. Again.

She let the phone drop to her side with a soft sigh and started pacing — not anxious, exactly. But unsettled.

He’s not silly, she reminded herself. He’s probably just out having a good time with old friends. 

Still… this wasn’t like Ed.

He’d been good about checking in.

Careful.

When they were together.

She stopped pacing, the silence pressed down on her like a weight. Her chest burned, her hands wouldn’t still.

She heard his voice in her head, from just yesterday:

Now it’s in my brain. The doctor just told me six months to a year.

A tear slid free before she could stop it. She swiped it away and called him again.

Voicemail.

That was it. She grabbed the old box from the back of her closet, her hands tearing through years of dust and avoidance until she found the silver key. The little charm—a gold heart—was worn smooth.

She didn’t even know if he still owned the place. But it was the only place she could think of that Patty might not know about.

Her fingers trembled as she grabbed her coat. The familiar weight of her handbag over her shoulder felt suddenly foreign, like it belonged to someone else. She made it to the door, hand on the handle, when the thought stopped her cold.

He has a wife now. This isn’t your place anymore.

Her grip tightened on the doorknob. For a second, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Her heart thudded loud in her chest, reckless and afraid.

But she knew him. She knew him in the way you only know someone when you've seen the worst of them—and they've seen yours. If it were reversed, if she were the one missing, he’d already be tearing the city apart.

Always.

She swallowed hard, forced the breath in, then let it go. One step. Then another.

And she walked out the door.

Chapter 2

The apartment was mostly empty now, little more than storage for the furniture he hadn’t taken to the house with Patty in the suburbs. The office smelled faintly of dust and old wood, a room that never quite felt lived in. A desk, a chair, a single lamp—and along the wall, a leather couch with creases worn deep into its cushions. That was all he’d bothered to keep. The rest of the place was stripped down, hollow, as if he’d been practicing for absence.

The glass of bourbon sat within reach, its amber catching the lamplight. He lifted it, swallowed, and let the burn chase down the tightness in his chest before setting it back beside the paper. For a long moment he just stared at the blank page, the pen heavy in his hand. Then, with a slow breath, he began.

“My Dearest Patty,

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. I need you to know there’s nothing you could have done to change my mind.”

His grip tightened on the glass. Bitter warmth coated his tongue. Tears slipped free before he could stop them. With a sharp shake of his head, he crumpled the page and tossed it into the bin.

With a sharp inhale, he forced the pen back to the paper.

“I wish I was braver."

The words tumbled out, faster now.

"You are the love of my life. Not just in the easy moments, but in the moments I was too afraid to admit it — even to myself."

The next line came too easily.

"No one else ever felt like home ."

He stared at it, breath catching, and then kept going.

The pen scraped furiously across the page, the words appearing faster than he could think. Regrets, truths, confessions he’d buried for years—everything he had swallowed down now spilled raw onto the paper.

His hand cramped, but he didn’t stop.

"I should have told you. I should have held on tighter."

Ink smudged under his fingers, but he pressed harder, writing as though speed alone could keep the emotions from slipping away.

"That was my biggest mistake."

The pen dug so deep it nearly split the page, but he didn’t care. His chest heaved with every line, his hand shaking as though the truth was burning through him.

The pen slipped from his fingers and rolled across the desk, clinking against the bourbon glass. He didn’t reach for it. His breath came ragged, his pulse pounding in his ears.

The words sprawled across the page stared back at him—raw, unfiltered, impossible to take back.

He reached for the glass again, but stopped short, his fingers hovering. For the first time all night, it wasn’t the bourbon he needed—it was the courage to believe the words he’d just written.

***

The key slid in with a muted scrape of metal.

Click.

Her breath caught as the door eased open.

The air struck her like a hand—thick, unmoved, steeped in dust, old wood, and the lingering trace of him.

That scent. That silence.

She hadn’t stepped foot in this place since—

Don’t.

But the memories pushed in anyway. Nights wrapped in blankets on his couch. His laugh bouncing off the walls. The way he'd say her name like it meant something sacred.

Now, only quiet. And dust. And the sound of her own heartbeat, uneven in her chest.

“Ed?” Her voice barely carried, thin and uncertain in the hush.

No answer.

Her pulse quickened as she stepped inside. Floorboards creaked underfoot. The door closed behind her with a whisper of finality.

Then—the scent hit her.

His cologne.

Familiar. Intimate. Crushing.

She paused outside the study. Knocked once. No answer. Her hand hovered, then pushed the door open.

The room was dim. Shadows crawled across the walls, cast by a single desk lamp left burning. He was there, motionless, carved in shadow like a statue. His eyes locked on hers—dark, impenetrable.

Her gaze flicked across the room. The half-empty bourbon glass. Pages scattered in frantic scrawl. And then—

The gun.

Her breath caught. A sharp, breathless silence swallowed the space between them.

“Ed,” she whispered, stepping inside as though the floor might crack beneath her. “Patty called. She’s worried.”

He let out a low, hollow laugh. “Patty worries about everything.”

Her throat tightened. “She doesn’t know where you are. She’s scared.”

“Why?” His tone sharpened—bitter, brittle. “Why are you here?”

“I should be asking you that.”

He rose slowly, unevenly, like a man wading through water. His outline seemed heavier in the half-light, like gravity clung harder to him now. “You already know.”

Her eyes snapped back to the gun. The safety was off.

“Ed… whatever you’re thinking—don’t.”

“For the first time in a long time, Liv, I’m thinking clearly.”

“No,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “This isn’t clarity. This is pain. And you don’t have to do this.”

His voice broke. “Why did you come?”

“I told you—Patty called.”

“No. Why did you come to my retirement party, Olivia?”

Her breath caught. She opened her mouth. Nothing came for a moment.

“We’re friends, Ed.”

“Friends, right.”

He laughed again. This time, it stung.

“Ed…”

He cut her off, voice low, raw. “I loved you.”

She said nothing. But her tears slipped free, hot and silent.

“Six to twelve months, Liv. That’s all I’ve got. There’s no fight left. No dignity.”

“That’s not true. You still have time. You have Patty, your stepkids—”

He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have come. It was easier before.”

“This isn’t the Ed I know,” she whispered, her voice fraying at the edges. “You never took the easy way out. Not once.”

She stepped forward, slowly, like approaching a wounded animal — not out of fear, but reverence.

His hand shifted. A tremor of motion toward the gun.

Something in her chest fractured.

And then — he picked it up.

Time narrowed. The room held its breath.

Her own did too.

“Ed…” Her voice cracked, the plea trembling loose from her throat, soft and desperate. “Please don’t.”

His grip tightened around the gun.

“If I do it now, no one has to suffer,” he said hoarsely. “I won’t become someone they have to watch fade.”

“You’re not a burden.” Her voice caught, thinned by the weight in her chest. “But leaving like this?”
She shook her head, tears slipping free. “That’s not mercy, Ed. That’s erasure. You don’t get to decide there won’t be pain. You don’t know what it’s like—losing someone before you can say goodbye.”

She swallowed. “I do.”

The silence that followed was brutal. Not empty—but full. Crowded with everything unsaid, everything they’d buried.

His hand trembled.

She moved closer. Laid her hand gently over his.

And he let her.

“What did the doctors say?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“Untreatable.”

“But medicine changes. Trials, breakthroughs—you don’t know what’s coming.”

Her eyes didn’t leave the gun.

“Please, Ed. Not like this.”

He stared at her, unreadable. And then—slowly—his hand loosened.

The gun slipped free.

She caught it. Unloaded it with trembling fingers and shoved it into the drawer.

The bullets clattered like thunder.

She exhaled, knees threatening to give out, a sob tearing from her chest.

Ed let his eyes fall shut and dropped into the chair, his frame curling inward, as if the weight he'd carried had finally won.

The silence between them trembled, delicate, barely holding.

“Now what?” he asked, voice cracking on the edge of something final.

She had no answer.

She just sat beside him and let the silence speak.

Notes:

A/N - I haven't decided whether Noah exists in the universe, but I'm leaning towards no. Elliot does, but his return arc was before this.

Chapter 3

The soft light of early morning filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the floor. The apartment still smelled of bourbon, sharp and lingering in the air. Liv moved quietly, careful not to wake him.

She carried two steaming takeaway cups, the warmth seeping into her hands. One for her. One for him. Her chest still ached from the night before, from the weight of what she’d stopped him from doing.

Setting the cups gently on the desk, she let her eyes wander across the room. That’s when she saw them.

Three envelopes lay on the table, edges squared with meticulous care. His handwriting—firm, deliberate, almost formal—marched neatly across each one.

Patty Tucker.
Mary Tucker.

Her breath caught on the third.

Olivia Benson.

Heat rushed to her face. Her name, drawn in his handwriting, it looked heavier than ink should allow. She had expected one for Patty, his mom. But one for her? She hadn’t thought there was anything left for him to say.

Her fingers hovered above the paper, close enough to feel its sharp edge. She didn’t dare lift it. Because whatever waited inside would be final. Irrevocable.

But her mind betrayed her.

Was it anger? A last strike—years of silence and grudges pressed into words sharp enough to cut?

Regret? A tally of all they had broken, all they had wasted, written out in his hand like a confession too late?

Or—God help her—was it something else? Something tender, something she had spent years burying, refusing to let herself want. Because if it was, if he had left her that… she wasn’t sure her heart could survive it.

The silence thickened, pressing in around her, until the envelope seemed to pulse with its own gravity. She hated it for existing, hated that it demanded an answer she wasn’t ready to face.

And yet, her hands trembled with the urge to open it.

Because whatever lay inside, it was the last thing he had chosen to leave her.

Then, a soft movement beside her. Ed stirred on the couch, eyes fluttering open, still heavy with sleep and last night’s exhaustion.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice rough.

“Morning,” she whispered, letting her hand hover just above the envelope. “Coffee. Thought you might need it.”

He blinked slowly, taking in the mugs. “Thanks.”

Her gaze flicked to the letters again. His expression sharpened slightly as he noticed her attention.

He exhaled hard, then lurched off the couch, snatching them up in one sweep. “I wrote them last night. When I thought…” His voice faltered.

“You thought you wouldn’t wake up,” Liv said softly.

A bitter laugh scraped from his throat. “Something like that.”

He shoved the envelopes into the drawer, as if burying them would erase the fact they’d ever existed.

Her chest tightened. She forced herself to look away, focusing on the coffee instead of the letter.

“Ed,” she said gently, placing her hand lightly on his arm, “I messaged Patty last night, telling her you were safe. But you need to go home and talk to her. I’ll help if you need it, but you need to face it and tell her everything.”

He nodded slowly, shoulders sagging in relief and exhaustion. “I… okay. I’ll go home. But can you drive me?”

She nodded and let her hand linger on his arm for a moment longer, a silent anchor. Then she turned back to the desk, the letters still sitting in the drawer, dangerous and tempting.

For now, some things had to wait.

***

Liv sat in the car, fingers tight around the steering wheel, watching as Patty flung open the front door. She all but collapsed into Ed’s arms, clinging to him as if sheer force could keep him there. Liv didn’t need to be a lip reader to know the questions spilling from Patty’s mouth—Where have you been? How did you get home?

Then Patty’s eyes lifted, catching sight of the car parked at the curb. It was too late for Liv to back out, too late to deny her presence. She gave Patty the faintest nod before starting the engine and driving off.

She had to resist every urge to drive back to his apartment and take her letter. But she wasn’t ready to open that can of worms, not after the night she had.

By the time she got home, the adrenaline had drained from her body. She sank onto the couch, mind racing, as if it was only now catching up to everything that had happened.

Her phone buzzed. Amanda.

Amanda: You okay? You’re never late.

Liv blinked at the time on her screen. She’d completely forgotten about work. She exhaled, thumbs moving clumsily.

Liv: Something came up. I’m okay, but I’m going to take a personal day today.

She had barely pressed send before her phone rang.

“Amanda, I’m fine,” she answered quickly.

“Sorry, Liv. Just—history, you know…” Amanda’s voice was cautious, but probing.

“I was helping a friend. He was in some trouble.”

“That wouldn’t be Tucker, would it?”

Liv froze, silence stretching too long to cover with a lie.

“…Yeah. How did you know?”

“His wife called the precinct, more than once. Liv—were you with him, all night?”

“It’s not like that,” Liv said firmly. “Look, I need to sleep. I’ll explain later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Amanda murmured, unconvinced. “You will…”

Liv hung up, set the phone beside her, and sank deeper into the couch. Her eyes had just drifted shut when a sharp knock rattled the door. She groaned, peeling herself upright, already bracing for Amanda.

“Amanda, I told you—nothing happened,” she said as she pulled the door open.

But it wasn’t Amanda.

It was Patty.

“Patty,” Liv breathed. “Hi… what are you doing here?”

“I… actually don’t know,” Patty admitted, arms wrapped tightly across her chest.

“Do you want to come in?”

There was a beat of hesitation before Patty stepped inside. Liv moved to the kitchen, setting the kettle to boil, while Patty lingered in the center of the living room, scanning everything like she was looking for answers in the furniture.

“Why did he tell you and not me?”

Liv froze mid-motion, startled by the bluntness. She turned slowly. “I didn’t know he hadn’t told you.”

“Please,” Patty said, her voice sharp, trembling. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t try to smooth it over for him.”

Liv exhaled, abandoning the cups, and crossed back to the living room. “I needed to talk to him about a case. He happened to be heading to the treatment center. That’s all.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

Liv’s throat tightened. “…I guess not.”

Patty’s eyes didn’t waver. “You two were… together, weren’t you?”

The words struck like a slap. Liv’s heart lurched. She hadn’t expected Patty not to know. But then again, Ed was a gentleman. He didn’t kiss and tell. Their elopement had been fast, reckless. Maybe there had never been time for him to explain.

Liv’s lips parted, but no sound followed. She shifted her weight, her eyes flicking briefly to the still-hissing kettle before returning to Patty.

“That’s something you should ask him,” she said, her tone measured.

Patty let out a small, humourless laugh. “I did. He skimmed right past it, the way he always does when it comes to his exes. I think he sees it as disloyal to talk about them, but…” She shook her head, her gaze intent on Liv. “You don’t seem like someone who sidesteps.”

Liv drew in a slow breath. “It isn’t my place, Patty.”

“Not your place,” Patty repeated softly, almost to herself. “But he told you things. Things he didn’t tell me.”

“That wasn’t intentional,” Liv said quickly. “He didn’t confide in me to keep you out. It just… happened.”

Patty studied her, arms tightening around herself. “What were you to each other?”

The directness of the question made Liv’s throat tighten. She looked away, unwilling to answer, unwilling to feed a wound that already existed.

“We were… important to each other,” Liv admitted at last. “But it was a long time ago. Whatever we were, it ended.”

Patty tilted her head, as if weighing that answer against her instincts. “Ended, but not forgotten.”

Liv forced herself to hold Patty’s gaze. “Patty, I can’t speak for him.”

For a moment, Patty didn’t speak. The kettle clicked off in the kitchen, startling both of them with its sharp pop.

Finally, Patty’s voice broke the silence, softer now. “You still care about him, don’t you?”

Liv drew in a breath. “Of course I care. He’s a friend. And he’s sick. You don’t just turn that off.”

Patty tilted her head slightly. “He told me… the only reason he didn’t go through with it was because of you.” Her voice cracked, almost imperceptibly. “He must trust you more than anyone.”

Liv shifted uncomfortably, caught off guard by both the confession and the weight behind it. “Patty, that wasn’t about me. That was about him choosing to keep fighting.”

“Maybe,” Patty said, her eyes narrowing just a touch. “But he told me it was you. Which is why I need to understand something—why did you two break up?”

The words lodged in Liv’s chest. For a heartbeat she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as the memories rose unbidden—Ed steady and certain, his hand reaching for hers, the way he’d looked at her like she was enough. And her own voice, colder than she’d meant it, telling him she couldn’t do it.

It hadn’t been him. It had been her—always her. She had been the one who ran.

Liv blinked, forcing the memories back, smoothing her face into something neutral. “We just… weren’t right for each other,” she said lightly, as if the answer were simple. “That’s all.”

Patty’s eyes narrowed just slightly, searching her face. She didn’t argue, didn’t push, but the disbelief was written in her silence.

Liv stood, grateful for the click of the kettle, for the excuse to turn away. She poured two cups, steadying her hands on the motions, and brought them back.

Patty took hers with both hands, eyes fixed on the steam. Her voice softened, guilty now. “I shouldn’t have come at you like that. It’s just… sometimes I feel like I’m standing outside his life, looking in. Everything used to be the job. That was his whole world. And now that it’s gone, he doesn’t seem… happy. Not with the job gone, not with me. Not even with himself.”

Liv sank onto the couch beside her, the weight of unsaid things thick in the air.

Patty gave a small, embarrassed laugh. “And here I am, unloading all of this on you. I hardly know you, and I’m just… spilling everything. You must get that a lot—people telling you things they didn’t mean to.”

Liv’s mouth curved, faint but real. “More than you’d think.”

Patty smiled back, though her eyes stayed troubled, her earlier question still lingering unspoken between them.

The silence stretched between them, warm cups in their hands, unsaid truths heavy in the room. Liv thought about filling it—about saying something light, or something kind—but nothing seemed right.

Patty set her tea down on the table, untouched. “I should go,” she said finally, her voice quiet but steady.

Liv nodded, rising with her. “If you need anything” she stopped herself, searching for the right words.

Patty’s eyes softened, but only a fraction. “Thanks.” She reached for her coat, pausing at the door. “I do appreciate you… looking out for him. Even if it’s complicated.”

Liv offered a faint smile. “Complicated seems to be our specialty.”

That earned the smallest huff of laughter from Patty, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She hesitated, then said, “I’ll let you get some rest.”

Liv nodded again, hand hovering on the door. “Take care of yourself, Patty.”

Patty lingered a heartbeat longer, as if wanting to say more, then slipped out into the hall. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Liv alone in the quiet.

Liv leaned against the wood, her hand still on the knob. Her chest ached with the weight of everything unspoken—her own truth buried under the safe lie, Patty’s doubt left to fester, and Ed caught somewhere between them both.

Chapter 4

Her apartment was too quiet, too still. The kettle hissed faintly in the kitchen, but she hadn’t moved to pour it. She just sat there, hands resting on her knees, replaying every word Patty had thrown at her.

The way she’d asked. The way she’d looked at her, searching for cracks.

What were you to each other?

Liv closed her eyes, pressing her palms hard against them until spots of light sparked behind her lids. She hadn’t dodged—but she hadn’t told her the truth, either. She couldn’t.

Her mind flicked back to the drawer, to the metallic gleam inside, to the way his laugh had sounded—bitter, resigned—when he admitted what he’d been ready to do.

It wasn’t enough to stop him once. Not if the means were still sitting there, waiting for him.

The kettle shrieked. Liv reached over, shut it off, and rose to her feet. The decision landed in her chest like a stone: she needed to get the gun. Remove the choice before it tempted him again.

***

The apartment was hushed when she slipped back inside, every creak of the floorboards amplified in the silence. The air was thick with last night’s bourbon, heavy and sour.

She told herself she wasn’t here for long. Just the drawer. Just the gun.

Her steps carried her to the desk. The handle was cool under her palm, and for a moment she hesitated—then slid it open. The soft scrape of wood felt too loud.

There it was. The gun. The cold gleam of it waiting. She lifted it carefully, wrapping it into the folds of her jacket, the weight pulling against her side like an anchor.

But then—her eyes caught on the stack of envelopes.

They sat exactly where she’d seen them before, lined in neat precision. Three names in his deliberate hand. Two she expected. And hers.

Olivia Benson.

The sight of it hit her harder than the weapon in her pocket. She reached out without meaning to, fingertips brushing the top envelope. Her name seemed to hum beneath her touch.

One quick motion. That’s all it would take. Slip it free. He would never know.

Her thumb traced the edge, the sharp crease biting into her skin. She could almost feel the words inside, pressing against the paper, waiting. Anger. Regret. Or something softer, something she had no defense against.

Her breath caught, shallow and uneven. She curled her fingers, testing the weight of the envelope against her hand.

Then the drawer slid shut, wood meeting wood in a muted click.

She stood there a moment longer, palm resting on the desk, as if steadying herself—or holding something down.

The gun pressed heavy against her side when she turned toward the door. Her coat shifted with the motion, rustling softly.

And in the silence that followed, nothing betrayed what she carried out with her.

***

The knock came just after dark. Liv had dozed off on the couch, the cold tea still sitting on the table. For a moment she thought she was dreaming, but the knock came again, firmer this time.

She dragged herself up, heart already thudding with suspicion she couldn’t shake. When she opened the door, Ed stood there—hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched like a man who hadn’t quite decided if he should even be there.

“Can I come in?” he asked quietly.

She stepped aside without a word. He moved in slowly, looking around like it wasn’t the first time but somehow felt unfamiliar now.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said after a beat. His voice was rough, strained. “And to apologize. For… for all of it.”

Liv crossed her arms, leaning against the edge of the couch. “You should’ve called first.”

He nodded, guilt flickering across his face. “I know. I just—I needed to see you.”

“Funny,” Liv said sharply. “Your wife needed to see me too. Earlier tonight. She showed up here, Ed. Do you have any idea what kind of position you put me in?”

His eyes dropped. “I know. She told me she was coming.”

That set her off. “And you didn’t think to give me a heads up?” Her voice rose, incredulous. “You knew she was going to walk in here, ask me about things you never told her, and you just left me to—what? Defend you? Cover for you?”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“She asked me about us,” Liv cut him off. Her chest was tight, her throat burning with the words she’d swallowed all evening. “She knew, Ed. Or at least she suspected. And when she asked me why we broke up, I…” she trailed off.

He flinched at that, his mouth opening, then closing again.

“But you know what I’m most mad about?” Liv pressed, her voice breaking despite herself. “That you were going to do it. You were really going to—” She stopped, choking on the word. “You were supposed to be the strong one, Ed. You. Not me.”

Her arms dropped, her hands trembling at her sides. “I’ve leaned on you more times than I can count. You’re the guy who talks me down, who tells me I can survive whatever hell I’m standing in. And then you—” she shook her head, blinking back hot tears. “You were just going to leave. Like that.”

The room was thick with silence, broken only by the uneven sound of her breathing.

Ed took a tentative step closer, his face lined with guilt and something deeper, rawer. “I’m sorry, Liv. I wasn’t strong. I didn’t know how to be anymore. And, I didn’t realise you still cared so much.”

Liv let out a short, humourless laugh, bitter but warm. “Of course I care, Ed. I loved you too. That doesn’t just… disappear because we broke up.”

His jaw tightened, the old weight of guilt pressing down on him. “But you’re the one who ended it.”

Her eyes stung, and for a moment she almost let the frustration swallow her whole. “Yeah,” she admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I ended it. Because I was scared. Not you. Me. I didn’t know how to handle… everything. The truth, the feelings, the responsibility of it. I thought pushing you away was the safest thing. But that doesn’t mean I stopped caring, Ed. Not for a second.”

Ed’s gaze dropped, the lines around his eyes deepening. The realization settled on him slowly, painfully: she had carried that care all along, even while she had made the choice to leave.

“And I didn’t fight for you,” he muttered, voice low. “For us.”

Liv shook her head, bitter and tender all at once. “I didn’t make it easy for you to know. I tried to protect myself, and maybe, in the process, I ended up hurting you too. But don’t think for a second that I walked away because I stopped feeling anything. Because I didn’t. I never did.”

Ed took a tentative step closer, the air between them charged with unspoken history, regret, and lingering care. “I… I wish I’d known. That I’d understood.”

Liv’s chest tightened, realising what she had just confessed. “I think you should go.”

***

The next morning, Amanda knocked on Liv’s office door but didn’t wait for a response before stepping inside. Liv sat behind her desk, pale and drawn, dark circles shadowing her tired eyes. The weight of the night still clung to her like smoke.

Amanda’s gaze swept over her. “Rough night?” she asked gently, holding out a coffee.

“You’ve got no idea,” Liv murmured.

Amanda sat across from her, pausing as she took in the scene. The desk was cluttered—papers scattered without any real order, half-drunk coffee cups pushed to the side, a notepad flipped open to a blank page. It wasn’t disastrous, just... unlike Liv. Usually so precise, so composed. Now, everything felt slightly off.

“You haven’t slept.” Amanda said, more a statement than a question.

Liv didn’t bother answering. She sank further into her chair, rubbing both hands over her face before taking the cup Amanda held out. She sipped slowly, gratefully, the caffeine hitting her system like air after drowning.

Amanda watched her carefully. “What’s going on? What’s happening with Tucker?”

Liv leaned back against the cushions, her voice rough and low. “He’s sick.”

Amanda blinked. “Sick?”

“Glioblastoma, brain cancer.” Her eyes filled with tears she didn’t let fall. “It’s bad, Amanda.”

Amanda moved her hand to cover Liv’s, her posture softening. “And he told you the other night?”

“His wife—Patty—she messaged me in the middle of the night. Looking for him. I guess she couldn’t reach him and was getting worried. I still had a key to his old apartment, so... I went to check.”

Amanda’s brow furrowed. “And you found him?”

Liv nodded. “Yeah. With three handwritten letters and his gun.”

Amanda froze, her lips parting, but no words came.

“I stopped him,” Liv whispered. “Barely. He was ready. Said he didn’t want to die slow, didn’t want to be a burden. He thought this would be easier for everyone.”

Amanda didn’t hesitate. She sprang from her chair and pulled Liv into a fierce embrace, arms wrapped tight, anchoring her. Liv buried her face in Amanda’s shoulder, saying nothing, letting the silence speak everything she couldn’t.

After a long pause, Liv pulled back and sighed, her voice tired.

“Patty came to see me yesterday. She didn’t even know he was sick. And then I discover that all this time… he never told her about us.

Amanda blinked. “Wait—he never told her?”

“Nope, nothing.”

Amanda sat back, still holding Liv’s hand. “Jesus, Liv…”

“I couldn’t believe it,” Liv said. “She asked. She was direct about it. And I had no idea how to respond.”

Amanda shook her head. “That’s… a lot. Are you okay? No—scratch that. Of course you’re not okay. But… what do you want to do?”

Liv stared down at her coffee cup, her thumb tracing the rim as though it held answers. “I don’t know. I convinced him not to do it. But he’s drowning, Amanda. And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to hold him up.”

Amanda’s voice softened. “You’ve carried a lot of people, Liv. More than anyone should have to. But this? This isn’t on you. Does anyone else know?”

“I don’t think so,” Liv said. “But he told me first. And I think she’s upset by that. I would be.”

Amanda hesitated. “Liv… do you really want to get caught up in this? I know he’s your ex, and I know you still care, but—”

“He’s also a friend,” Liv cut in. “He’s sick, and I’m not going to turn my back on him if he needs a friend.”

“Yeah, but he has a wife to lean on,” Amanda said gently.

“You don’t think I should get involved?” Liv asked, though her voice already held the answer.

Amanda’s look was pained, careful. “I think you put everyone else first, even when it hurts you. I think you dive in headfirst when someone’s hurting because you can’t stand the idea of watching someone fall apart the way you’ve fallen apart. And I think—if you’re not careful—you’re going to break your own heart all over again.”

Liv didn’t respond. She just sat there, staring, her jaw tight, her expression blank.

Amanda reached for her hand again and squeezed it. “Just promise me you’ll be honest with yourself about why you’re doing this.”

Liv gave the smallest nod as Amanda slipped out, closing the door gently behind her. Fin was waiting, his hand halfway to the knob. The look on his face was all question.

Amanda shook her head. “Not now,” she murmured, her voice low.

He frowned, confusion flickering, but she touched his arm before he could push past. “I’ll explain.”

Fin glanced at the closed door, then back at her. Whatever he saw in Amanda’s expression kept him still.

As Liv sat in the quiet, Amanda’s voice lingered. He has a wife to lean on. The truth of it stung more now, in the stillness. She’d told herself it was complicated—but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was just wrong.

Chapter 5

The apartment was suffocatingly quiet. Liv sat hunched over her laptop, the glow of the screen casting a harsh light on the cluttered coffee table—medical journals, printed research, scribbled notes. She scrolled through page after page, her eyes scanning the same phrases over and over, each one more damning than the last.

Glioblastoma:  the most aggressive and common type of brain cancer. Standard treatment: maximal safe resection, radiotherapy, temozolomide. Recurrence common. Prognosis poor.

Her stomach churned. She had to do something. Anything. The guilt gnawed at her, sharp and insistent. She wasn’t just researching to help him—she was trying to justify the feelings she couldn’t suppress. The feelings she’d buried for so long.

Then, a headline caught her eye.

Phase II clinical trial: Dual-Target CAR-T cell therapy for recurrent glioblastoma at Pearlman School of Medicine at University of Pennsylvania.

Her heart skipped a beat. It was still experimental, but it was something. A potential lifeline.

She clicked the link, her pulse quickening as she read through the details. The trial was recruiting patients with recurrent glioblastoma. It was a long shot, but it was a shot.

Without thinking, she grabbed her phone and dialed Melinda.

“Liv?” Melinda’s voice was a welcome anchor. “What’s going on?”

“I need your help,” Liv said, her voice tight. “There’s a CAR-T cell therapy trial at U-Penn. Do you know anyone who could help get him in?”

There was a pause on the other end. “Who’s the patient?”

Liv hesitated. “Someone I care about. He’s—he’s been diagnosed. Glioblastoma.”

Melinda’s tone softened. “I’ll make some calls. Let me see what I can do. I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you,” Liv whispered, relief flooding her chest.

She hung up and sat back, staring at the screen. The weight of the situation pressed down on her, but for the first time in days, she felt a flicker of hope.

***

The café was nearly empty, too early for the morning rush, first sunlight pouring through tall windows and catching on glass tabletops. It was too early for the lunch crowd, too late for commuters. Liv sat at a corner table with a thick folder in front of her — printouts, notes, brochures all neatly organized. She had barely touched her coffee.

When Patty arrived, she looked composed but cautious. Her coat was still damp from the drizzle outside, her expression unreadable.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Liv said, rising slightly as Patty slid into the seat across from her.

Patty nodded. “You said it was important.”

Liv pushed the folder gently across the table. “I’ve been doing some research. Ed mentioned he’s out of options for treatment, but there’s an experimental trial out of UPenn. It’s shown promise. It’s aggressive, but it could buy him more time — maybe years, depending on how he responds. I may have a contact that can…”

Patty opened the folder, glanced at the materials, then closed it again.

“I appreciate you putting this together,” she said carefully. “But I’ve already looked into most of this. That trial has a waitlist. We’ve been in touch with them.”

Liv paused. “Have you looked into the 9/11 Survivors Fund so you guys can take time off, take the time to find other options, together?”

A flicker crossed Patty’s face. “Yes. Ed refuses to take money from them, said he doesn’t want charity. Said if he can’t pay for his own care, he doesn’t want it.”

Liv exhaled, nodding. “That sounds like him.”

“It does,” Patty said, and there was a subtle edge to her tone.

Liv hesitated. “I was thinking about organizing a fundraiser. Quiet. Discreet. It wouldn’t be charity — just support from friends. People who care.”

Patty’s expression tightened. “I understand the impulse, but… that’s not really your place, is it?”

Liv blinked. “I wasn’t trying to overstep. I just thought—”

“With all due respect,” Patty said, more gently than her words suggested, “you haven’t been a part of Ed’s life for years. And now, suddenly, you’re staying up all night researching clinical trials and talking about fundraisers. It’s a lot to take in.”

Liv swallowed hard, her spine stiffening. “I know. I’m sorry if it feels like I’m intruding. That’s not my intention.”

Patty’s eyes searched hers, calm but unflinching. “Isn’t it? Look, I’m grateful you found him. And I know he trusts you. I know there’s history there. But I have to ask — is this really just about helping? Or is there something else going on?”

Liv didn’t answer right away. She looked down at her coffee, then back up, her voice quieter.

“I’m not trying to take anything from you. I’m not trying to… relive the past. But he almost ended his life in that apartment, and I can’t just turn away from that. I still care about him.”

Patty nodded slowly, absorbing that. “I don’t doubt that. But he’s my husband. And whether he told me or not, whatever you two had — that was another life. This is his life now.”

“I understand,” Liv said.

“Do you?” Patty asked, not with anger, but with weary honesty. “Because right now, it feels like you’re stepping into a role that isn’t yours anymore.”

Liv sat back, stung but trying not to show it. She wasn’t used to being the outsider in someone else’s story.

Patty’s voice softened. “I don’t want to be unkind. I know you’ve helped. I know he trusts you. But please — let me be the one to take care of him. He still has pride. And he still has a life, even if it looks different than it used to.”

Liv nodded, finally. “Okay.”

Patty stood, gathering the folder. She paused before walking away. “Thank you for this. Truly. But let’s not confuse what’s needed… with what’s wanted.”

Then she left, and Liv sat alone at the table, the weight of old love and new boundaries pressing in around her.

***

The apartment was still. Olivia sat curled on the couch, dressed in an old NYPD sweatshirt, her laptop closed for once.

The stack of research papers she’d printed days ago sat untouched on the dining table — tempting, haunting. She kept glancing at them, then forcing herself to look away.

Her phone buzzed again on the coffee table. She glanced at the screen and sighed.

Ed: Thank you for the research. For everything. It means something. It means a lot.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Another buzz an hour later.

Ed: You didn’t have to care, but you do.

She locked the phone without reading more. Set it face-down.

Two more hours had passed when it buzzed again.

E d : You okay? Haven’t heard from you.

She didn’t want to interfere. Not anymore. Not after Patty had looked her in the eye and, as kindly as she could, told her to step back.

And Patty wasn’t wrong. Ed had a wife. A life. And whatever Liv still felt — or whatever he might still feel — it didn’t matter. Not now. Not like this.

Her phone started ringing.

She let it go to voicemail.

And again.

The third time, she turned it off completely.

She didn’t cry. She just sat there, silent, with that awful pressure behind her eyes — the kind that only came when she was trying not to cry.

A full hour passed. She was in the kitchen reheating leftover soup when someone knocked on her door.

A slow, solid knock.

She already knew who it was before she opened it.

Ed stood there, leaning heavily against the frame, a jacket slung over his shoulders, a hint of colour in his cheeks that hadn’t been there yesterday. He looked tired — but alive.

“I’ve been calling,” he said simply.

“I know.” she replied, avoiding his steel blue eyes.

“You didn’t answer.”

“I know.”

He frowned. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Look me in the eye and say that.”

She sighed and stepped back, wordlessly inviting him in. He walked slowly, carefully, like someone still learning to trust his own balance. She watched him, arms crossed, trying not to care that he was here. That he always showed up when she was trying to let him go.

“I wanted to say thank you,” he said, turning to face her. “For the trial info. For everything. Even if Patty pretended she already had it all, I hadn’t seen half of it. You gave me something to think about.”

She didn’t respond. Just nodded.

“I meant what I said in the message,” he added. “You didn’t have to care. But you do.”

“That’s the problem,” Liv said quietly.

He tilted his head. “What does that mean?”

She hesitated, then finally spoke, the words pushed out before she could take them back. “Patty asked me to back off.”

Ed’s face darkened slightly. “What?”

“She didn’t say it like that. She was… respectful. But it was clear. She doesn’t understand why I’m suddenly back in your life. Why I care. And honestly? I don’t blame her.”

“She had no right to say that to you,” Ed muttered.

“Ed—”

“No, Liv. You saved my life. You’ve been helping me when I was too damn stubborn to even ask for it. You don’t deserve to be treated like some kind of intruder.”

“She’s scared,” Liv said. “She’s trying to hold it together, and suddenly I show up with folders of research and years of history stamped across my face. What do you expect her to think?”

Ed looked away, jaw tightening.

“She’s your wife,” Liv said gently. “And I’m not going to be the reason she feels like she’s losing you. Not emotionally. Not like this.”

“You’re not the reason—”

“I could be,” she interrupted. “If I let myself stay in this… if I blur the lines any more than I already have. That’s not fair to her. Or to you. What I said the other day, I was, I was emotional, scared…”

“So you didn’t mean it?”

“No, I did, but…You shouldn’t be here,” she said softly. “You should go home. To her.”

He stood there a long moment, hand resting on the door before he finally nodded, as if the words had landed in a place he didn’t want them to.

Then he left.

The moment the door clicked shut she broke. Tears flowed down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away. Liv’s phone buzzed across the wood, and she reached for it before she could second-guess herself.

“Melinda?”

Warner’s steady voice came through. “I just heard back. It took some work but Ed’s been accepted into the next round of trials. They’ll be calling to schedule the intake this week.”

Liv closed her eyes, relief flooding her chest — but it was quickly chased by dread. “That’s… that’s incredible. Melinda, thank you. But—” She hesitated. “There’s a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“Patty asked me to step back. She doesn’t want me in the middle of this. If she finds out I pulled strings—”

“She’ll feel like you ignored her,” Warner finished, matter-of-fact.

“Exactly. I don’t want her thinking I’m trying to… insert myself into their lives.” Liv rubbed at her forehead, guilt pressing in. “If they think it’s just the system working, not me—”

Warner was quiet for a moment, then said gently, “You’ve already done the hard part. Let me handle the rest. No one needs to know your name was attached to this.”

Liv exhaled, the weight in her chest easing just slightly. “Thank you. I owe you one.”

“Take the win, Olivia,” Warner said. “Even if you can’t take the credit.”

Chapter 6

Ed and Patty sat at the kitchen table, the cell phone between them on speaker.

“This is Dr. Martin, director of the oncology research trial at U-Penn,” the voice said crisply. “I’m calling to let you know you’ve been accepted into our next cohort, Mr. Tucker.”

Ed blinked, stunned. Patty’s hand shot to his. “That’s—are you serious?”

“I am,” Dr. Martin said, a smile audible in his voice. “You’ve got good medical history for our parameters… and, well, some very pushy friends who made sure your file got in front of me.”

Ed glanced at Patty, a small, incredulous laugh leaving him. “Pushy friends, huh?”

“Dr. Melinda Warner,” the director clarified. “Her name carries weight in certain circles. You should thank her when you can.”

Patty let out a long, shaky breath — almost a laugh, almost a sob. Relief washed through her features, the tension around her mouth easing. Because if it was Warner, it meant it wasn’t Liv. Ed caught the flicker of relief but said nothing. He only squeezed Patty’s hand.

“Our coordinator will give you a call later in the week with all the details,” Dr. Martin went on, businesslike again.

“Thank you so much.”

Ed hung up the phone, Patty flung her arms around him.

“It’s a miracle…I’m going to give the boys dad a call, see if they can stay with him while we’re in Pennsylvania.”

Ed gave her another squeeze.

“I’m gonna go into the city and see Melinda and thank her.”

***

Liv was packing up for the night when she heard it — that slow, deliberate knock.

Her stomach tightened before she even looked up.

Ed stood in the doorway, bundled against the cold, his face drawn, his eyes carrying something sharper than anger.

“Can I come in?”

She hesitated—just long enough to betray the war inside her—then stepped back. He moved carefully, slower these days, but still with that quiet gravity that made the air shift around him.

For a beat, neither spoke. The silence was its own language.

“What are you doing here, Ed?”

“We got the call. From U-Penn.” he said, his voice low.

Liv forced a small smile, though her throat was dry. “That’s… that’s good news, Ed. Really good.”

He didn’t return it. He just studied her, the way he always had, seeing too much.

Finally, he said, “They mentioned a name. Melinda Warner.”

Liv’s chest tightened. She fought to keep her tone even. “Melinda’s respected. If she helped move things along, then thank God she did.”

Ed’s jaw flexed. “Yeah. Except Melinda doesn’t just pull strings like that. Not unless someone asked her to. Someone she trusts.”

Her stomach sank. “Ed—”

“Liv.” His voice wasn’t angry—it was worse. Gentle, unrelenting. “Tell me the truth. Was this you?”

She looked away, jaw tight. “It doesn’t matter who it was. What matters is you’re in.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Her silence told him everything.

Ed let out a long breath, dragging a hand down his face.

When he spoke again, it was softer, almost weary. “Patty thinks it was Warner. She was… relieved. And I didn’t correct her.”

Liv’s chest clenched at the weight in his words. “Good. Then leave it that way. The last thing she needs is to feel like I’m—”

“—in the middle,” he finished for her. His gaze held hers, steady and searching. “But you are. You always are.”

Liv swallowed hard, the truth of it cutting. “Ed…”

He shook his head slowly. “I’m not telling you to stop. I just… I see you. Even when you’re trying to vanish behind the curtain. And I don’t know if I should thank you… or beg you to let me fight this on my own.”

The words hit like a blow, knocking the air from her chest.

For a second, Liv thought she might break. Instead, she whispered, “Then don’t thank me. And don’t ask me to stop.”

Ed’s eyes closed, like he’d known that answer before he asked. When they opened, the silence between them brimmed with everything they couldn’t name—gratitude, anger, fear, love.

A throat cleared in the doorway—sharp, deliberate.

Liv spun around, her breath catching. Elliot stood there, eyes locked on her, his expression unreadable.

“Elliot…” Her voice was tight. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped inside, gaze flicking between her and Ed, reading the charge in the room instantly.

“I was up the street chasing a lead,” he said, too casual. “Thought I’d stop by, see if you wanted to grab a drink.”

His eyes lingered on Ed.

“Tucker,” he added, with a pointed nod. “Been a while. You look like hell.”

Ed didn’t flinch. “Stabler. Not been long enough.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut glass.

Ed turned back to Liv, his expression unreadable. “Well… I’ll let you get back to your night.”

He reached for her hand—held it just long enough for Elliot to notice.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. A word heavy with more than gratitude.

Then he walked out, leaving the room scorched with tension, like a dropped match still burning.

The door clicked shut, but the smoke lingered.

Elliot’s eyes stayed fixed on it. “So… Tucker just drops by now?”

Liv kept her back to him, grabbing her coat with too much focus. “He was, uh… asking about a mutual contact. Something about a cold case that resurfaced. He thought I might know someone.”

Elliot arched a brow. “Since when is Ed Tucker chasing cold cases? I thought he was enjoying retirement somewhere far from precinct walls.”

She shrugged, still not turning. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

Elliot studied her in silence, too carefully. The pause stretched, heavy with what he wasn’t saying.

Finally, he gave a single nod. “Right. Sure.”

He didn’t believe her—not really. But he wasn’t pressing. Not yet.

“Still want that drink?” His voice had softened, almost tentative.

Liv exhaled slowly, then turned to face him. “Yeah. I do.”

He held the door for her, and as they stepped into the hallway, neither of them looked back.

***

Ed stepped through the door—only to find Patty pacing the living room like a storm trapped indoors.

He set his keys on the counter. “What’s going on?”

She whirled around, exasperated. “Greg can’t take the kids for the fortnight—he’s out of town for work. I called my sister, but she and David are in the middle of one of their ‘situations.’ And work—God, you'd think a hospital would understand me needing time off, but no. Too many people already on leave, apparently.”

Ed crossed the room and gently placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to steady her. “Hey. It’s okay.”

Patty shook her head. “No, it’s not. The boys, school—I don’t want to uproot them. And I don’t know when I can even fly over—”

“You’ll come when you can,” he said calmly. “It’s not that far. I’ll go ahead, and we can rent a place for as long as we need.”

She stared at him. “Ed, we just spent most of our savings on the house.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’ll sell the apartment. I haven’t rented it out in a while—it’s just been sitting there. This is the right reason to let it go.”

Her breathing began to slow, her shoulders easing beneath his touch. He pulled her into an embrace, holding her tight.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

***

The bar was dim, almost empty, the kind of quiet that made every word land heavier than it should. Liv sat across from Elliot in a back booth, hands clamped around a glass she hadn’t touched. Her jaw was tight, eyes fixed somewhere far off, like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

Elliot leaned forward, his voice already edged. “So, you gonna tell me what Tucker was really doing in your office?”

She didn’t look at him. “I told you. He stopped by.”

He gave a short, sharp laugh. “I call bull. Ed Tucker doesn’t just stop by. That guy never breathed without an angle.”

Her eyes flicked to him, cold. “He asked about an old case. That’s it.”

“You don’t even believe that,” Elliot shot back. “Since when do you not know exactly why somebody’s knocking on your door?”

She gritted her teeth. “I said it wasn’t a big deal.”

“The hell it isn’t,” he snapped. “I saw how he looked at you. And you—Jesus, Liv, how you looked at him like—”

He broke off, shaking his head. “What the hell is going on?”

Her voice was ice. “It’s none of your business.”

“The hell it’s not!” Elliot slammed his palm against the table, the glass rattling. “The guy spent years trying to end our careers, and now he’s in your office like you’re old pals? You think I’m just gonna sit here and swallow that?”

Her silence was deafening.

“You’re hiding something,” he pressed, his voice hard, insistent. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to—I know you. Better than anyone.”

Her eyes flashed. “Clearly not.”

He froze at the bite in her voice.

Then she said it. “We were together.”

Elliot blinked, as if the words didn’t compute. “What?”

She didn’t flinch. “Me and Ed. We were together.”

He barked out a laugh, harsh and disbelieving. “Like, together together? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“You—” his voice rose, anger spilling over, “you and Ed Tucker? The same smug bastard who cuffed you, humiliated you, tried to bury us every chance he got?”

“He was doing his job,” she shot back, heat in her voice now.

“His job was screwing us over!” Elliot’s voice cut through the bar, sharp enough to draw a glance from the bartender. “And you—you’re defending him?”

“I’m telling you what happened.”

“What happened?” Elliot leaned in, fury sparking in his eyes. “What, Liv, did you just wake up one day and decide you’d sleep with the enemy? That it would be easier to crawl into bed with the guy who spent years tearing us apart?”

Her face hardened, her voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare.”

“I saw the way he treated you,” Elliot hissed. “The way he treated us. He was poison, Liv. Poison. And you let him in? You let him—”

“You left.” The words cracked out of her like a gunshot.

Elliot’s mouth snapped shut.

“You walked away,” she said, louder now, trembling with anger. “No goodbye. No explanation. Just gone.”

“That’s not—”

“It’s exactly what happened!” she cut him off, eyes blazing. “You left me to pick up the pieces, Elliot. You left me bleeding, and he—yeah, Ed—he stayed. He showed up. He listened. He was there when you weren’t.”

He flinched, but his jaw set. “So all those years—you can’t forgive me, but you could forgive him?”

That landed like a punch to the gut, her eyes blazing.

Elliot’s hands curled into fists. “I don’t even know who you are right now.”

Her laugh was sharp, bitter. “Then maybe you never knew me at all.”

The space between them burned—years of silence, betrayal, grief, fury—crashing down all at once.

Liv pushed to her feet, shoving a few bills onto the table.

“Liv—” Elliot’s voice cracked, softer now, almost desperate.

“No,” she cut him off, steel in her voice. “You don’t get to show up after all this time and judge me for the life I had without you.”

And then she turned and walked out, the door slamming shut behind her.

Elliot stayed frozen in the booth, chest heaving, staring at the space she’d left—like something he thought was still his had just been ripped away.

Again.

Chapter 7

Patty opened the front door, her expression kind but wary.

“Yes?”

Elliot cleared his throat, suddenly unsure of himself. “Hi, I’m Elliot, I’m… an old friend of Ed’s.”

Before she could respond, a familiar voice called from inside.

“Friend?” Ed’s laugh rang out, dry and amused. “Fiend’s more like it.”

Patty glanced back toward the sound, one brow raised, then stepped aside.

“Ah, come in.” She gave him a polite smile and disappeared down the hall.

Elliot stepped inside, following the voice to a room that surprised him—warm, lived-in, lined with books and family photos. Domesticity didn’t fit the picture he’d carried of Tucker all those years.

Ed sat in an armchair, relaxed in posture but sharp in his eyes.

“Well, this is a surprise. You just drop by everyone you’ve spent years hating, or am I special?”

Elliot gave a tight shrug, not bothering with pleasantries. “Liv told me. About… you two.”

“Ah.” Ed nodded slowly, as if a puzzle piece had clicked into place. “So that’s why you’re here. You wanted to make sure it was real. To see if I’d hurt her.” A low chuckle escaped him, not unkind but edged with irony. “Still protecting your old partner, Stabler. She never needed it. Not from me. Not any one.”

Elliot’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t come here for a fight, not really. The truth was, he didn’t know why he’d come. Maybe to convince himself it hadn’t been serious. Maybe to see for himself why she’d chosen him—him, of all people.

“She was different without you,” Ed went on, his voice level, measured. “She grew. Learned what leading a squad really meant. And I don’t say that to stick it to you. It’s just the truth.”

Elliot shifted his weight, irritation prickling. “Different how?”

Ed’s eyes held his for a long, heavy moment. “She wasn’t defined by you anymore. She was… her. And I admired the hell out of that. We were alike in ways I never expected. Both stubborn, both scarred up in places no one can see. She let me in. And Liv…” His mouth curved faintly, not quite a smile, more like a memory tugging at the corner of his lips. “She amazed me. Every single day.”

The quiet reverence in his voice unsettled Elliot. He’d always thought he knew Liv better than anyone, but here was Tucker—Ed—speaking of her like she was the center of the universe. Elliot couldn’t stop the flicker of doubt: if Ed saw her like this, and she’d let him in, why had it ended?

Ed’s gaze dipped briefly, his tone shifting, softening. “Of course, she’d been through hell. Things no one should endure. I won’t go into detail—it’s not my place—but it changed her. You could see it in the way she carried herself. Stronger, sharper… but changed.”

Elliot swallowed, his chest tightening. He didn’t need the details; his gut already twisted with the weight of what he hadn’t been there for. Years gone, moments missed. Someone else had held the pieces of her he never even knew had broken.

A creak on the stairs broke the spell. Patty reappeared with a tray, setting down glasses of water, a mug of tea, and a bowl of pills. She brushed a hand gently against Ed’s shoulder before slipping out again, silent but present.

The atmosphere shifted with her absence. Ed gave a short, humorless laugh. “Anyway. Things weren’t meant to be. That’s the long and short of it.”

But Elliot wasn’t listening to the dismissal. His eyes had snagged on the side table, where bottles of medication clustered together. Too many. Not the kind you take casually.

His throat tightened. “Ed…”

Ed followed his gaze, then sighed, resigned. He met Elliot’s eyes, steady and unflinching. “Cancer. That’s what all this is. So if you came here for a fight, Stabler—” a faint, almost-smile ghosted across his lips “—you’re a dozen rounds too late. That bell rang a long time ago.”

The words landed like a blow. Elliot sat there in the warm, ordinary living room, staring at the man he’d once considered an enemy. And all he could think was how easily Liv had loved him, how completely.

And how much of her life he’d missed.

As Elliot showed himself out, Patty reappeared in the lounge. Her arms were crossed, her expression unreadable, but the sharpness in her movements gave her away. She lowered herself onto the couch beside Ed, but sat rigid, her body angled slightly away from him.

“So,” she said, too casually, “what’s the deal with him?”

Ed gave a short breath through his nose. “Just an old colleague.”

Patty let out a frustrated huff, pushing herself up from the seat. Ed immediately reached for her hand, confusion flickering across his face.

“Patty, what is—”

“No, Ed.” Her voice cracked on his name. “What is going on with you? Why does it suddenly feel like you’re shutting me out? Like you’re hiding things from me?”

His brow furrowed. “I’m not hiding anything from you.”

“Then why won’t you talk about her?”

He blinked. “Who? Wait—Liv?”

“Yes.”

“Patty, I—there’s nothing—”

“Bullshit, Ed.” The word landed like a slap.

He leaned back slightly, taken aback by the force of it. “I don’t understand why you’re so fixated on Liv.”

Her throat tightened. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “Because I’m scared of losing you.”

The room went still.

Ed tightened his grip on her hand and gently guided her back down to the couch. His voice dropped low, steady.

“Patty, I’m not going anywhere.”

But her eyes stayed locked on his, searching, needing. “I know you love me. I know that. But it feels like you kept her locked away in a corner of your life. Like she was some secret you didn’t want me to know about. And I don’t understand why.”

He shifted closer, steady but soft. “You’ve never reacted like this before. Not even when we ran into my ex-wife.”

“That’s different,” Patty whispered. “Because I could see she wasn’t right for you. But Liv—she’s… she’s everything. Captain of SVU. Respected. Smart. Beautiful. And you—” her voice cracked—“you’re good, and loyal, and decent. So tell me the truth. Why did she let you go?”

Ed’s eyes softened at the tremor in her words. “Patty, I hadn’t thought about Liv in years. Not until my retirement party.”

“And when you told her about the cancer,” she pressed, needing him to say it out loud.

“It wasn’t planned, not like that,” Ed said quickly, almost pleading. “She called me about a case, and she happened to see me going into the cancer center. It wasn’t a choice to tell her before you. If you need every detail, Patty, I’ll give them to you. I don’t want you doubting me.”

Her jaw trembled as she nodded. “Then tell me. All of it.”

Ed inhaled slowly, as though bracing himself. “Okay. I’ll start with Elliot—that’s probably easier. He was Liv’s old partner, years back. Protective of her, almost fiercely so. People always whispered about them, but he had a wife, five kids—he wasn’t that man. Their connection was intense, but it wasn’t that kind of thing.”

Patty’s eyes narrowed. “And what does that have to do with you?”

“Well…” Ed’s mouth tightened. “Back when I was at IAB, I went after them both. Hard. More than once I nearly took their shields. Elliot always saw me as the enemy, and he never forgot it. So when he found out Liv and I had dated? He couldn’t believe it. He still can’t.”

Patty swallowed, the knot in her chest twisting tighter. “So how did you two end up together if there was so much bad blood?”

“It was years later,” Ed said. His voice softened, touched with something almost fond. “After Elliot left, Liv…changed. She grew into her command. Started to see some of what IAB was there for. We started running into each other more, and slowly… there was something there. It wasn’t overnight, but it was real.”

Patty’s pulse quickened. “And?”

He hesitated, then exhaled. “And after months of dating, it became clear she wasn’t ready.”

Patty’s voice was barely a whisper. “Ready for what?”

“For someone who wouldn’t let her down. For trusting stability. For… me.”

Her eyes flickered over his face, searching for a lie, but found only weariness.

Ed leaned closer, his tone steady but gentle. “I didn’t keep her from you because I still wanted her in my life. I didn’t bring her up because she wasn’t. When I transferred to HNT, I wasn’t in her orbit anymore. That chapter ended. And then I met you.”

Patty’s eyes glistened, though she fought it back. “Then promise me. No more secrets. Nothing between us.”

Ed wanted to promise, but the truth of his acceptance to the cancer trial pressed heavy on his chest. Still, he nodded, holding her hand tighter, because it was the only promise he could give her tonight.

***

Elliot leaned back in the diner booth, stirring his coffee though he hadn’t added anything to it. Fin slid into the seat across from him, giving him a once-over.

“You look like hell,” Fin said.

He hesitated, then blurted, “So, Liv and Tucker, huh?”

Fin let out a chuckle. “That explains the you looking like hell part.”

He took a sip of his coffee as his brow lifted, cautious. “That what this is? Catch-up or gossip?”

Elliot let out a breath through his nose. “I…I kinda lost it at her...”

Fin just waited, quiet, steady.

“Then I went to see him,” Elliot admitted, voice dropping.

That got a reaction. Fin leaned back. “You what?”

“I needed to know,” Elliot said, eyes hard. “If it was real. If he’d hurt her.”

Fin shook his head, a low, humourless chuckle escaping. “Man, you still don’t get it. She doesn’t need you playing bodyguard. Not anymore.”

“I know,” Elliot shot back, sharper than he meant. He scrubbed a hand down his face, his voice softening. “It’s just… the way he talked about her. He loved her. Really loved her.”

Fin studied him for a beat, then said, surprisingly gentle, “Yeah. And she let him. That should tell you plenty.”

Elliot’s chest tightened. He stared into the swirl of black coffee, the knot in his throat growing. “Then why’d it end? Why’d she walk away?”

Fin took a slow sip of his soda, considering. “That’s Liv’s story, not mine.”

“Come on, Fin.” Elliot leaned forward, restless. “You saw them. You must’ve known.”

“What I knew,” Fin said, his gaze steady, “was that she was happy. Happier than I’d seen her in years. And then it was over. People break up, El. Even the ones who love each other.”

Elliot frowned, the answer not sitting right. “He’s married now. I met her—she’s nice, but she’s not Liv. So what, he just moved on?”

“Guess so. Don’t we all?” Fin’s tone carried an edge, like a warning.

Elliot shook his head, the thought gnawing at him. “It doesn’t add up. The way he talked about her—it wasn’t like someone who could just let go.”

“Maybe it wasn’t about letting go,” Fin said, voice firmer now. “Maybe it was about life moving the way it moves. You left. He was there. He showed up when she needed someone. That’s the story. Beginning and end.”

The words hit like a stone to the gut. Elliot sat back, staring at his untouched coffee, jaw working.

Fin broke the silence. “So… have you apologised yet?”

Elliot shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. “Not yet.”

Fin’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Typical.”

Elliot bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you still react first, think later. Always have.” Fin leaned in, his eyes sharp. “You walk back into her life after ten years and what—expect nothing’s changed? That she just kept a seat warm for you?”

Elliot’s voice cracked, low. “I didn’t—” He stopped, shook his head. “I just didn’t expect it to feel like this.”

“Yeah, well.” Fin sat back, calm but not unkind. “That’s on you, not her.”

Elliot swallowed hard, the weight of it pressing down.

“Listen.” Fin’s tone softened, but carried steel underneath. “You gotta stop treating her like she’s yours to protect—or to judge. Liv makes her own choices. Always has. Tucker was one of ’em. You don’t have to like it. But you damn well have to respect it.”

Elliot’s throat worked, but no words came.

“And here’s the free advice,” Fin added, steady as a hammer. “If you want any place in her life now, stop keeping score. Stop acting like you get to decide who’s worthy. She already decided. More than once.”

The truth cut deep, harsher because it came from someone who hadn’t abandoned her.

Elliot finally nodded, small and reluctant. “Yeah. Okay.”

Fin smirked faintly, leaning back. “Progress. Miracles do happen.”

***

The apartment felt heavy in the muted afternoon light, every corner echoing with a life half-packed away. Patty stood in the study, her hand trailing absently over the edge of the desk. Her gaze lingered there, thoughtful, her expression distant.

Ed was in the living room, staring out the window, his thoughts scattered. The creak of a floorboard pulled him back. He moved toward the sound and stopped in the doorway, watching her for a moment.

“Patty?”

She startled, head snapping up, then quickly smoothed her features into a smile. It was warm enough, but it carried a strain beneath the surface.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just…” she gave a small shrug, her eyes flicking around the room. “Weird being here. Doesn’t really feel like your place. More like walking into somebody else’s life.”

Ed’s throat tightened. For a moment, he just looked around the office, then out into the apartment beyond—the quiet rooms, the muted light falling across spaces that felt both familiar and distant. So many traces of the past he hadn’t thought about in years. He forced his gaze back to her. “I stayed here for a while. But it never really felt like home. Too much going on then. Guess I didn’t spend enough time here to get attached.”

Patty tilted her head, studying him like she could hear the weight in what he wasn’t saying. But she let it pass, stepping into the bedroom. “So what do we do with all this furniture? Just leave it for the buyers?”

“Probably easiest,” Ed said. “Unless you see something worth keeping.”

Her eyes lit faintly as she glanced back at him. “That desk in the office is beautiful. Wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to bring it to the new house. And hey, we could always use more closet space.”

She slid open the wardrobe door and laughed lightly at the jumble inside. “Guess this room did live a life without you.” She pulled out a box and lowered it to the floor with care.

Lifting the lid, she uncovered a small glass bottle, elegant and dust-covered. She held it up, catching the light.

“This is gorgeous.”

Ed stepped closer, pulse kicking. “Probably left by the last tenants.”

She twisted the cap, and the scent filled the air—heady, floral, expensive. “Wow, this is beautiful.”

She squinted at the label, her brows wrinkled. "It's all in French."

She shrugged as she set it back down, her hand drifting deeper into the box.

Her fingers froze.

Patty’s breath hitched as she drew out a photo frame, her eyes widening at the image inside.

Ed felt the air shift before he even saw it.

She turned, the picture trembling slightly in her grasp—Ed and Liv beneath the Eiffel Tower, smiling like no one else existed.

Her voice cracked as she held it up. “Tenants, huh?”

The word cut like glass. Before he could answer, she shoved the frame back into the box and thrust it into his arms, the weight of it slamming against his chest.

Then she brushed past him, her steps sharp, furious. A moment later the front door slammed, the sound reverberating like a verdict.

Ed stood rooted, breath tight in his chest. Slowly, he carried the box back into the office and lowered himself into the chair. Setting it on his lap, he reached inside, his fingers grazing velvet. A small ring box. He swallowed hard, slid open the desk drawer—and froze.

His gun. The letters. Gone.

Hands trembling, he snatched up his phone.

Ed: Did you take my gun?

The reply was instant.

Liv: Wasn’t going to risk it.

Ed: And the letters?

He waited. The screen stayed dark. No reply.

Ed leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the silent phone, the unanswered question hanging heavier than anything in the room.