What if Liv and Elliot had one steamy night together before he left SVU, changing his number and dropping off the face of the earth. Liv has no way to tell him that they have a child together, so she just doesn't.
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Ivy tiptoes across the creaky porch steps, the full weight of her backpack a dull ache against her shoulders. Past midnight. Way past midnight. The streetlamp casts long, accusing shadows across the lawn, mirroring the turmoil within her. The fight with Dad echoes in her head, his words like jagged shards tearing at her heart. "Just a phase," he'd said, his voice tight with disappointment. It wasn't a phase. It was her.
Slipping the key into the lock, she winces as it groans in protest. Please, no creaking doors, no barking dogs. Inside, the house is cloaked in an inky silence, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the refrigerator. Relief washes over her, sharp and fleeting.
Just as she thinks she is home free, a soft light flickers on at the end of the hallway. Panic claws at her throat. Busted.
Olivia stands there, her hair a mess, a worried frown creasing her forehead. Her sleepwear, usually a source of comfort, seems impossibly normal in this charged moment. "Ivy? What are you doing just coming in?"
Ivy's voice comes out in a strangled whisper. "I, uh, I lost track of time hanging out with Francesca." A lie, flimsy and transparent.
Olivia's gaze softens, but the concern lingers. "It's past midnight, honey. You know your curfew."
"I know," Ivy mumbles, kicking off her shoes, the sound deafening in the quiet house.
Olivia sighs, the sound heavy with unspoken questions. "Come on, let's get you something to eat. You must be starving."
Ivy follows her mother to the kitchen, the familiar warmth of the space offering a sliver of comfort. She sinks into a chair, the exhaustion from the day and the weight of the fight settling on her like a heavy cloak.
Olivia places a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of her. "Talk to me," she says gently, her hand reaching out to rest on Ivy's.
The dam breaks. Tears well up in Ivy's eyes, spilling hot and silent down her cheeks. The fight with her father, the hurt, the isolation, it all pours out in a torrent of choked sobs. Olivia listens patiently, her touch a silent anchor in the storm of emotions.
When Ivy finally runs out of words, a raw silence settles between them. Olivia wipes away a stray tear from Ivy's cheek, her eyes filled with a love so fierce it takes Ivy's breath away.
"It's okay to be who you are, sweetheart," Olivia says, her voice soft but resolute. "You don't have to explain yourself to anyone, least of all your father."
A spark of defiance ignited within Ivy, fuelled by her mother's unwavering support. Maybe things wouldn't change overnight, but with Olivia by her side, she wasn't alone.
"I know," Ivy whispers, her voice gaining strength. "But it's hard."
Olivia squeezes her hand. "I know it is. But you're strong, Ivy. Stronger than you think."
