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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The Tuscan winter had settled over Olivia and Elliot's haven, a symphony of muted tones played against the evergreen canvas of their orange orchard. Two years had passed since they'd traded the relentless sirens of New York City for the melodic trill of songbirds in the olive groves. Their quaint farmhouse, nestled amidst the citrus trees, was a world away from their former lives as SVU detectives.
Inside, the aroma of cinnamon and baked apples hung heavy in the air, courtesy of Olivia's legendary winter pies that she had been taught how to make by Nonna DeLuca who lived in the farmhouse next door. Sixteen-year-old Ivy, her hair the colour of spun sunshine, is sprawled on the worn rug with a well-loved copy of Pride and Prejudice, occasionally glancing up to steal a smile at her two-year-old sister, Isabella. The little firecracker, with eyes as blue as the Tuscan sky, is busy building a precarious tower of wooden blocks, Primrose, their loyal cavapoo, a watchful blonde shadow at her side.
Elliot, his once steely gaze softened by fatherhood and Italian sunshine, entered with a basket overflowing with plump, freshly picked oranges. Primrose, ever the opportunist, darted between his legs, tail wagging a frenetic welcome.
"These beauties are ready for juicing, Liv," he announces, his voice warm and rich.
Olivia emerges from the kitchen, a dusting of flour on her cheek. Her smile, as radiant as the Tuscan sunrise, lights up the room. "Perfect timing, El. Freshly squeezed orange juice is the best way to start a winter morning."
As Elliot busies himself with the electric juicer, a soft sigh escapes Bernie, Elliot's mother, who sits by the crackling fireplace, a book resting on her lap. "This quiet life suits you both, doesn't it?" she observes, her voice laced with a hint of nostalgia.
Elliot exchanges a look with Olivia. They both miss the adrenaline rush of the job, the satisfaction of bringing justice. But here, amidst the tranquillity of their orchard, they have discovered a different kind of fulfilment.
"We wouldn't trade it for the world, Mom," Olivia replies, her voice sincere. "Sure, we miss the team, the camaraderie. But seeing Ivy blossom and Isabella take her first steps – there's no case that could ever compete with that."
A comfortable silence settles once more, punctuated only by the rhythmic hum of the juicer and the crackle of the fire. Outside, the wind whispered secrets through the orange trees, their branches laden with the promise of spring's vibrant return. Here, in their Tuscan sanctuary, winter was not a time of hardship but a season of quiet joys and a reminder of the simple beauty that surrounded them. It was a life nurtured by love, laughter, and the sweet, citrus sunshine that coloured their every day.
"Did you remember to spray the Orange trees?" Liv asks Elliot as they move around the kitchen with ease. Both considered themselves expert Orange farmers now, thanks to the help of Aldo in their first year of owning Bensler Orchards. They hosted their first of many weddings in the most recent summer. It brought so much joy to Olivia to see people enjoying her home as much as she does.
