DISCLAIMER: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit and all characters are
property of NBC and Dick Wolf.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: These are the final chapters! As such, I thought it
appropriate to give some credit to people who have helped me a lot
in the journey this story became. First off, both Adrienne and
Miranda of Adrienne_Miranda fame, who encouraged me first to post
this, and also to continue posting it. Secondly, to all the people
who edited/betaed/suggested things for this story, especially Lori,
Calliean, Rhonda, and Kris. And lastly, of course, thanks to
everyone who has taken the time to write to me, either publically or
privately, for your kind words and thoughts. That's what kept me
going, when I wanted to quit. Thanks to everyone!
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Coming Out, Staying In
By Katherine Quinn
Chapter 27: Alex
Numb. Dreadfully numb.
Every day since you left, every moment that's passed, I've been
wrapped in a horrible anesthetized haze. I've created a routine
that allows me simply to exist without thinking; without feeling;
without acknowledging that I have any more life than arguing for
judges and filing motions. I get up, pull on my clothes, still
wrapped from the dry cleaner so I don't have to see yours still
hanging in the closet. I trudge to work and make my way through
briefs, and forms, and motions forcing myself not to tear up when I
see your familiar scrawl on a report.
You send Elliot to me, to ask me your questions, to run your
errands. He's obviously uncomfortable, and I know he must have
heard your side of the story. Well of course, I remember vaguely.
He came up to me; he gave me my choice. Now, I'm relegated to
searching in his eyes for signs that you're okay. That maybe in his
eyes I'll find your secret message to me. He's too good. He never
betrays a hint of you.
I've lost my world. Every day on the way home, I stop and pick up
the same dinner, comfort food that I more pick at than eat. Sitting
there, in public, I'm saved for a few hours from having to crawl
back to the empty apartment that is now only mine again. Our
kitchen, my kitchen, is still filled with too many memories of you.
The way you'd sit on the counter and talk to me while I cooked us
dinner, your laugh as we joked about our co-workers, your smile as
we sat together and picked off each other's plates.
The dark nights, when I'm finally forced into the solitude of the
dark apartment, I sit with the files that provide me the career that
I was so willing to give up my life for. It doesn't seem worth it.
I push open the same door, to the same restaurant where I get the
same dinner, but something's different. I hear your laugh. At
first I think it's what it's been every time I've heard your
chatter; a cruel joke of my imagination. It must be a taunt from
the insides of my psyche; the same one that sees your shadow on
every corner and hears your voice while I lie alone in our bed
crying over your loss.
I look up, in spite of myself, and I see you. Not a shadow of you
but you for real. I can't help but smile; you're beautiful and
alive. Everything I remember about you floods through me, and for
only a moment, I assume you are here with Elliot, or one of the guys.
And then I see her.
The way you're smiling, the way she's laughing. I know what this
is. You're here with someone else. You're not. You're.
I stare at you; horror written on my face. I can feel my body
tighten; hear my mind slamming shut as I realize that you're not
doing what I'm doing. You're not mourning my loss. You're not at
home, miserable, sitting with case files, crying yourself to sleep
at night. You're out with a woman. You're out in public, holding
her hand, giggling over a table like a giddy child with someone else.
I think I'm going to be sick.
I can feel the bile rising in my throat. I run for the bathroom
before I embarrass myself further right here and now. I pray you
didn't see me. Just in time, I find myself retching over a dirty
toilet, knowing I have to leave here, leave here and go out there
and see you again. See you with someone else.
I can feel the tears starting to flow as I let my body slide down
the wall after emptying what little was actually in my stomach.
Before I know it, I'm bawling, tears streaming down my face, my body
shaking. I can't believe that seeing you here; seeing you with
someone else bothers me so deeply. You're mine; my soul screams,
but you're not mine anymore. Not since you left me. Not since you
decided that I wasn't enough for you. Every time the picture of you,
walking away from me, walking out of the door and out of my life
flashes through my consciousness, the crying gets worse. Harder.
I can barely breathe, knowing that there's someone else in your
life. Now, I know that there's someone else sleeping next to you.
Do you tell her you love her too? Do you tell her that you want to
spend your life with her? Do you stay awake at night, watching over
her like you used to watch me? Somewhere far away, I hear the
bathroom door opening. I stay on the floor, but stop the loud sobs,
trying to not entirely mortify myself.
I see feet, under the stall door. They face the mirror, and then
turn around. I feel something pressing against the door. "Alex,
come out, we've got to talk."
Chapter 28: Olivia
I can hear your sobbing from outside the door, just barely loud enough to reach my ears. I shove open the door harder than I mean to, like I'm going in for a bust, and quickly look for you. I can't find you, at first, and then I catch sight of you in the mirror, pressed against the floor in a little ball. I feel my heart breaking into pieces in my chest. Why did I want to make you feel like this? I thought you'd get mad; I thought you'd confront me. I thought you'd come out for me. I didn't want to destroy you.
I wonder if you know that my heart breaks every morning when I wake up without you next to me. I slide the door open gently and get onto my knees. You look into my eyes and I can see you starting to blush as you frantically wipe tears out of your eyes.
"Hey, sweetie," I say before I realize I probably shouldn't call you that anymore. I probably shouldn't want to. You look up at me, kneeling in front of you only for a second, and then quickly look away, staring at the floor rather than into my eyes.
"You okay?" I ask.
"Yeah," you mutter, still wiping at your eyes, and pulling your jacket down. "I'm sorry," you start.
"No, I'm sorry." At least I mean that. I'm sorry for doing this. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry that you hurt me.
"I didn't expect to see you here." You mutter, in some kind of lame explanation.
I don't say anything. I did expect you.
The silence quickly becomes uncomfortable and you try stand up, which makes me slide away from you. You cross the room and look in the mirror. You're back to your professional self. You stare into the mirror. Do you see what I see? The pale face? The eyes riddled with sleeplessness? You look like hell.
You run your fingers through your blonde hair, and before you can turn on your heel and walk out, I stop you. "Are we going to talk about this?"
"Talk about what?" you ask me, like you honestly have no idea what I could possibly be talking about.
"About all this?"
"I'm happy for you." You say, with a forced smile.
"I'm not, I'm not with her." I tell you and I can almost see your body relax a little.
"Oh really?" you ask a little too hopefully.
"Yeah."
"I miss you," you say, gently.
"I miss you too." I say.
"I don't want us to end like this."
"I...I can't live my life in hiding."
"I can't live my life without you."
You lean in and kiss me, gently on the lips. It's a kissed filled with our history; our past. It's a kiss that gives me a promise for the future. It's a kiss that fills me with hope and promise; for us and our lives together.
"I love you, Liv." You say, leaning into me.
I love you too.
I love you too.
The End