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Knocking the snowman-shaped throw pillow to the ground as he quickly leaps onto the couch, Noah digs in his pockets for his phone. Opening up the video recorder, he swiftly pans the living room before switching the camera to front-facing, positioning it so the Christmas tree is in the center of the frame. Panicked shouts can be heard as a blurry figure runs between him and the tree.
“What the hell was that?”
“Is that a rat?”
“Shut the door! Don’t let it in my room!”
“Do something!”
“Noah, put your phone down and help us!”
With arms stretched out as far as they can go, Noah moves his head into view of the camera, ensuring he captures the chaos behind him.
[record scratch]
[freeze frame]
“Yup, it’s me, Noah. You’re probably wondering how we ended up here—”
~oOo~
10 days earlier
Elliot shakes his head vigorously; desperately trying to shrug off the sleepiness that has settled over him. He’s made this drive with Noah several times, the conversation easily shifting between excited chatter and comfortable silence. Today, Noah has chosen the latter. Instead of making small talk with his mom’s friend, he’s slumped against the door, earbuds firmly in place, and eyes fixated on his phone. If it weren’t for the sporadic snickering at some random TikTok or the slight movement of Noah’s head as he occasionally glances out the window, it would be easy to forget he is even in the car.
The truth is, Elliot looks forward to this (five-hour round trip) drive. And even more, he loves that he can relieve just a little of the stress from Olivia’s life. He desperately wants to rebuild their relationship and prove he won’t disappear from her life again. The only way to do that is by being consistent, reliable, and present. He checks in often via text, calling, or even the occasional impromptu visit to the 1-6 bearing a piping hot cup of coffee. He asks about her life and actively listens.
He is invested in Noah’s life as well; attending performances, picking him up from school, and participating in a personal favorite: pizza and ice cream nights. One of the most important things he can help with is getting Noah to the McCanns for the weekend. More times than not, that involves texting Noah on the down low to find out if his chauffeur services will be needed that weekend. Maybe he casually mentions to Liv that he happens to be free Friday night; his house is too empty and quiet for his liking. She doesn’t need to know that he has an arrangement with Ayanna that, work permitting, conveniently frees up his Fridays when needed.
Olivia still struggles with letting her guard down, but it says a lot that she trusts him with the most important person in her life. Elliot truly enjoys getting to know Noah on a deeper level and wants to be a dependable, stable force in his life.
“Hey! That’s where Connor gets his Christmas tree from!” Noah’s voice cracks as he enthusiastically gestures toward a huge white billboard on the side of I-87.
It reads Bell’s Christmas Tree Farm in bold red and gold hand-painted letters. Abstract dark green spruce trees fill the background. Take Exit 18 towards RT-199 W/New Paltz the billboard instructs.
“They even get to cut it down themselves. It sounds so fun!”
Glancing over at Noah, Elliot’s breath catches in his throat. Maybe it’s the enthusiasm in his voice that sparks the long-forgotten memory, or the genuine smile that reaches his eyes, but an image comes flooding back. It’s become a little hazy over time; not as sharp and vivid as it once was, but he still remembers that same look of pure happiness lighting up Olivia’s face many years ago.
~oOo~
December 1998
“Olivia, Christmas is exactly one week away. You really aren’t going to put a tree up?” When Elliot is met with silence, he quickly rolls himself over to his partner.
Olivia lets out a long sigh before glancing up. Her eyes narrow as she takes in the way he is reclined back in his chair, legs propped up on the edge of her desk. “What part of I don’t do Christmas decorating do you not understand? No trees, no lights, no little snowflake window clings stuck to my bathroom mirror…”
“No mistletoe?” Elliot interrupts with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“No,” she chuckles. “Now get your feet off the Hardwick file.”
“Well, Bah Humbug to you too,” Elliot murmurs as Olivia swats his legs off her desk.
“Elliot,” her voice noticeably softer, “I’m not a Scrooge. It’s just a lot of fuss to put up decorations for only a few weeks. And besides, I’m never home. I’m always with you.”
He’s still learning to interpret his new partner's nonverbal cues, but when she shrugs and silently glances back at her case file, Elliot knows the conversation is over. He‘s certain her feelings towards Christmas go deeper than she lets on and, hopefully, with time, she will trust him enough to open up a little more.
Throughout the day, Elliot’s mind keeps returning to their earlier conversation. He can’t help remembering the look of pure joy and wonderment spread across her face when an investigation took them down the side streets of a heavily decorated neighborhood or when canvassing had them trekking through the snow in Midtown, right past the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree lit up in all its glory.
Watching his partner leave for the evening, he gets an idea. Calling home, there is noticeable disappointment in his wife’s voice as he explains he’ll be a little late and to start dinner without him. Kathy tries to understand the demands of his job, but sometimes it feels like she’s doing it all alone. Hanging up the phone with a quick ‘I love you-I’m sorry-I’ll make it up to you and the
kids’, Elliot makes a mental note to stop by the corner bodega and pick up a flower bouquet before heading home.
The next morning, the squad is greeted by a sparse 3-foot tree, a strand of multicolored lights twinkling between large gaps in the branches. Decked out in an obscene amount of gold and silver tinsel, glittery red and green ball ornaments weighing down its branches, and a tacky gold star on top, it is a sight for sore eyes. Of course, the only one who appreciates its true beauty is Olivia.
No matter how much she presses him throughout the day, he refuses to admit he has anything to do with it. But she is a Detective, after all, a damn good one, and has a knack for picking up on subtle (and not so subtle) clues.
“You know, it would be more convincing if you got rid of the evidence first.” Olivia gently brushes glitter from the front of her partner’s shirt. “You got a bit right there too,” she laughs, pointing towards his nose.
“Oh, come on! You let me walk around all day covered in that stuff?” He notices a little still on his hands and rubs them together over her head. “Payback is a bitch!”
Year after year, Elliot made sure the squad room had a tree. There were many changes over that time; the tree got a little bigger, new decorations replaced old, worn-out ones, squad members came and went, the squad room was brightened up with a fresh coat of paint (and eventually a new location altogether), but one thing remained steadfast: The wonder and awe on his partner’s face every time the tree was lit up.
~oOo~
A honking in the distance brings Elliot back to the present.
He wonders who continued to set the tree up after he left. Imagining Olivia without him by her side is almost too painful to bear.
“You and your mom put your tree up yet?”
Elliot already knows the answer. He spent far too long working Special Victims to not remember that with the joys of the holiday season also comes a darker side. Liv mentioned weeks ago that Noah had been excited about setting up their Christmas tree since early November. All the decorations were piled haphazardly in the corner of the living room just waiting to be unboxed.
Unfortunately, without exception, SVU sees a spike in its workload during the winter months. Between the financial stress of the holidays, people drinking more than usual, and abusers having greater access to their victims, an escalation of violence is evident in the drastic rise of domestic and child abuse cases.
“Not yet. But Mom promised we could do it next weekend. The tree is still buried somewhere in her closet.”
“Maybe we should all drive up here next Friday and cut one down for you guys. The biggest tree we can find.” Elliot continues, “Think we can convince your mom?”
“Good luck with that,” Noah mutters. “Mom hates live Christmas trees. She says they’re too messy and too much work.”
“Well, I’m sure you can be pretty persuasive when you want to be. Between you and me, I don’t think your mom stands a chance,” Elliot says, a smug smile spreading across his face.
And that’s how they find themselves at Bell’s Christmas Tree Farm the following Friday, cautiously trudging through dirty wet snow on what is arguably one of the coldest nights of the season. One of those nights when, no matter how many layers you have on, or how good the temperature rating on your gloves and puffer jacket is, you can’t shake that chill that settles deep into your bones. But it was tonight or never; work and holiday activities won’t be slowing down and the nights will continue to get colder, the weather worse. So they bundle up and agree to pick out a tree as quickly as possible before they all freeze to death.
Elliot is a little surprised at how easily Liv caved. All it took was the promise that she wouldn’t have to lift a finger to take care of the tree. He would handle the cutting down part, and Noah would keep the needles swept up and the tree stand full of water. But, if it made her son happy, then she was content. She wasn’t looking forward to digging the tree out anyway.
As they pull into the gravel parking lot, big plump snowflakes begin to fall, quickly covering the windshield. Grabbing his gloves and bow saw from the back seat, Elliot leads the way into the farm. Noah is close behind him, snagging one of the flat makeshift sleds that will eventually transport the tree back down to their car.
If they ever find a tree.
After forty-five minutes, they are still searching and searching and searching some more. They stop at what must be the 500th tree that Noah is 100 percent convinced is the one.
“What about this one?” Liv gestures to a pretty Douglas Fir to her right.
“Nah, the branches are too flimsy.” Noah heads a few feet up the hill before turning back around. “Mom, I’ll know it when I see it!”
He is taking the task of finding the perfect tree a little too seriously, scrutinizing each one for height, fullness, and needle-to-branch ratio. The branches on the Douglas Fir are too flimsy, the Noble Fir’s are too stiff. The Balsam Fir is too fragrant, but the Nordmann Fir is not aromatic enough. The needles of the White Pine are too soft while the Colorado Blue Spruce’s are too sharp.
If the choice had been up to Olivia, they would have taken the first tree they came to. Sure it was a little small, the branches sparse, and leaned ever so slightly to the left, but by the time you hung an obscene amount of decorations on it, would all that really matter?
“Well, I hope you see it soon. We’ve been out here for over an hour, and that hot chocolate cart at the entrance is calling my name.” With a shiver, Liv makes her way over to where Noah and Elliot have moved on and are closely inspecting a beautiful tall, very wide tree.
“Oh! This one looks nice!” Liv wraps her arm around her son’s shoulders, gently pulling him in close to her side.
Noah squats down, further investigating the dense branches full of dark green needles. Stepping back a few feet, he takes in the perfect pyramid shape of the almost seven-foot Fraser Fir. Slowly circling the tree, he stops every few feet to pull down on a branch or squeeze the needles between his fingers.
Elliot lowers himself to the ground, sliding towards the trunk of the tree, saw in hand. “So? Do we have a winner?” He glances up at Liv and Noah expectantly. Noah takes one more trip around the fir tree.
“It’s perfect!!!” He says, before joining Elliot near the base of the tree.
They still have a long night ahead of them but at least they have finally found a tree. Once they finish lugging it down to the car, making the two-hour drive back to Manhattan (with a quick stop for dinner), and getting it set up in the apartment, it is close to midnight and everyone is exhausted. When Liv mutters something about pine needles being everywhere, Elliot goes to grab the broom while Noah picks up the twine and netting that was wrapped around the tree during its transport.
Walking back towards the living room, Elliot slows down when he hears Noah and Liv’s hushed voices.
“Since it was kind of Elliot’s idea, should we ask if he wants to help decorate?”
Not wanting to interrupt, he stays a few feet shy of the doorway, just out of Olivia’s sight. This is unfamiliar territory for both of them and he doesn’t want her to feel obligated to invite him into their lives. Elliot is learning to navigate the fine line between wanting to be involved with them as much as possible and not wanting to be intrusive in their family time together.
“I love that idea,” she whispers, “but don’t make him feel pressured. And please don’t be disappointed if he already has plans.”
The muscles in Elliot’s back and shoulders instantly relax. Letting out a long breath he didn’t notice he was holding, he feels hopeful knowing that Olivia is also trying to find balance in their relationship.
~oOo~
Two days later
Noah gently hangs a three-inch tall snow globe ornament on the tree. With shimmery snow delicately swirling around numerous NYC landmarks, this is one of his favorites. A gift from his mom the first time they went to the Radio City Christmas Spectacular, it is always the last ornament to be hung on the tree.
The branches are adorned with an eclectic mix of handcrafted ornaments made by Noah, whimsical snowmen, vintage hand-blown glass bulbs, nutcrackers, and The Rat King. Pokémon, Harry Potter, Mario and Luigi. World-famous landmarks, iridescent snowflakes, and a multitude of other likes and interests are all represented by various Hallmark Keepsake ornaments.
“I think that’s the last one,” Elliot sifts through the wadded-up tissue paper littering the floor.
“You know what that means!” Noah races off to his bedroom, returning with a small red box. “It’s UNO time!”
“Mom, it’s your turn!”
“What? Already?” She glances at her full hand before dramatically picking up four cards from the Draw Pile. “I can’t believe you hit me with a Draw Four. I thought we were a team.”
If only they had set up in the dining room as she suggested. Instead, she’s hunched over a tote-turned-makeshift table, back aching and getting her ass kicked by her 12-year-old. She usually destroys her UNO opponents, but that damn Christmas tree keeps distracting her.
“I swear I keep seeing branches move.” She shrugs, getting questioning looks from Noah and Elliot.
Tonight has been great. Elliot showed up around 6:30, arms loaded with soda, pizza, and wine. Promptly plucking the Cabernet from his arms, Olivia had two goblets one-third full by the time he placed the greasy pizza boxes on the kitchen island. They watched A Christmas Story (Noah’s pick) while devouring dinner, easily polishing off two large pies and an order of garlic knots. Several glasses of wine (and an unexpected trip to the hardware store for an extension cord, ornament hooks, and new strands of lights) later, the tree was decorated, empty totes put back in the closet, and they were on their third round of UNO, Elliot trying to break his two-game losing streak.
“Umm—I think something just moved over there.” Noah glances in the direction of the tree, the branches in the middle bouncing up and down.
“Did you think I was making it up?” Liv starts slowly walking in the direction of the tree. “Well yeah, kind of!” Elliot ducks, narrowly missing Liv’s playful slap upside his head.
Just then, something small and brown jumps out of the tree and onto the curtains. Elliot stumbles out of his chair, knocking it to the ground with a loud bang. Olivia is screaming and Noah is running in the opposite direction, diving onto the couch.
“What the hell was that?” Leaping off the curtains, the unidentified small furry critter scurries along the baseboard.
“Is that a rat?” Olivia grabs the broom that is still leaning against the wall behind the tree, cautiously approaching the terrified rodent. If she can get it cornered, Elliot might be able to grab it. But as she inches closer, the now-identified-as-a-squirrel takes off towards the hallway.
“Shut the door! Don’t let it in my room!” She shouts to Elliot, who is just standing there, dumbfounded. “Do something!”
Slow to react, he finally takes off down the hall, slamming Olivia’s bedroom door shut. Pulling Noah's door closed on his way back, he takes a moment to get himself together. By the time he returns to the living room, total chaos has ensued. Olivia, broom in hand, is chasing after the panicked squirrel which is now zigzagging all over the apartment.
Elliot heads toward the kitchen to open the sliding patio door, passing by Noah who is still standing on the couch, but now has his phone out recording. “Noah, put your phone down and help us!”
As Elliot re-enters the room, Noah, still recording, zooms in on the object in Elliot’s left hand.
“A frying pan, Elliot? Really?” Liv stands there in disbelief. “We’re trying to shoo it outside, not kill it!”
“It was the first thing I saw!” He snaps defensively.
“Okay.” Olivia takes a deep breath. “Let’s all just take a minute.” Assessing the scene around them, she takes a beat before slipping into Captain Benson mode. She’s come face-to-face with the worst of the worst, she can handle an exhausted, one-pound squirrel.
“Noah, dump that laundry basket out,” she begins issuing orders and turning to Elliot, “Can you grab a big towel from my bathroom?”
Taking advantage of the idle, worn-out squirrel, they formulate a plan. With Elliot standing by ready to throw the towel down, Olivia uses the broom to slowly nudge the squirrel into the corner. Noah quickly traps the towel and squirrel under the laundry basket. Keeping steady pressure on the basket, they slowly slide through the kitchen and out the patio door. As Noah removes the basket, they race inside and slide the door securely closed behind them.
Noah lifts his phone back up and captures the squirrel running out from under the blanket and down the side of the railing. “I can’t believe I got all that on film! Best night ever!”
Waiting for her heart rate to slow down, Olivia takes in the damage. One curtain rod is dangling down, held up by only one bracket. Fallen ornaments and pine needles litter the ground. UNO cards and laundry are scattered everywhere.
“Just for the record…” Lowering herself to the couch, she begins to refold Noah’s laundry. “We are never getting a live tree again!”
The next morning
“Noah, get your shoes on. We gotta go.”
“One sec, Mom,” Noah calls over his shoulder as he rushes towards his bedroom. “I gotta check something real quick.“
Grabbing her stainless steel travel mug, car keys, and leather work tote, Liv leans against the front door jamb, watching her son bolt back into the living room, empty-handed. She slowly breathes in through her nose for a count of five as he frantically digs through the laundry basket for a pair of clean socks.
1-2-3-4-5
Finally settling on a mismatched pair, he zooms off towards his bedroom again, quickly returning with his phone, ear pods, and purple math binder.
She exhales slowly through her mouth.
1-2-3-4-5
Normally this would be when she reminds Noah that if he put his laundry away like she asked (numerous times), he wouldn’t be running around like a chicken with its head cut off. But she's more mindful lately about creating a calmer and less frantic start to their day (really to their life in general) so she gives him another minute before gently reminding him they need to go.
Seeing Noah grab his coat and backpack, Olivia makes her way down the hall, pressing the white button on the wall. With any luck her son will get there before the elevator car arrives. If their morning goes smoothly and they leave their apartment on time, they can usually beat the morning elevator rush. There are definitely some drawbacks to living on the 14th floor, but the view sure was nice.
“Oh my god!” Catching up to his mom, shoes in hand, Noah excitedly turns his phone around so she can see the screen. “It went viral! One million views overnight! Can’t wait to show everyone at school!”
Inhale. Exhale.
“You better hope my face isn’t on there or that Uncle Fin hasn’t seen it. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Oh—about that. I might have already sent it to him.” Sheepishly stepping into the elevator, grinning, he looks up.
“Sorry, mom.”