DISCLAIMER: The characters are adapted from the television series 'Law and Order: Special Victims Unit' and are therefore the property of its creators and producers as well as NBC. The narrative is my own. Errors in setting, character and continuity are purely my fault, some may even be intentional. Coincidences in narrative are purely accidental.
WARNING: This story deals with the aftermath of sexual assault against two of the main characters and with love, friendship and extreme sexuality between women. It is unsuitable for minors due to sensitive subject matter, explicit language and graphic depictions of sexuality. If you are 18 or over, read on at your own peril, pleasure and interest.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Held Within the Beat of Your Heart
By Lostintranslation21@yahoo.com
Part One
She shivered as she buttoned her navy wool skirt, now decorated at the hem with blood. Spots of blood also dotted her white silk shirt and navy wool jacket, and she wondered if the blood was hers. Her stockings were torn, and her silk underwear, mangled and rended by teeth, felt rough against her battered skin. The white walls of the St. Gregory emergency room gave her nothing to look at, which left her to her thoughts. She wished someone had thought to put up a picture or two.
She checked to make sure her blouse was buttoned up to the throat and her jacket was fully closed before she slipped on her navy pumps, sensible heels for her appearance before Judge Westlake earlier in the day. No, yesterday, she corrected automatically, confused, surprised and grimly happy the day before was done and could not be repeated. Toes flexed inside of shoes and fingers smoothed over closed buttons one last time. Blood and tears notwithstanding, her uniform was intact. Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Cabot was reborn.
Alex gingerly walked to the door. Her shoulders and back ached, residual pain from the restraints, and her stomach continued to churn, although she had already vomited away all of its contents. Still, it was time to leave her temporary shelter. She opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
Detective Elliot Stabler jumped to his feet and inadvertently knocked his chair against another. The sharp noise of metal against metal reverberated off the pale blue walls of the small waiting area, making Alex jump. She frowned with annoyance at herself.
Elliot's tie was pulled askew and his shirt, like hers was spotted with blood. She wondered idly how he'd picked up transfers, and then she remembered seeing him arrive at the crime scene shortly before she was taken away by ambulance. The memory caused a shiver to move down her spine, but she hid her reaction well. Elliot walked towards her, his steps quick and quiet. He stopped a good three feet away, reverting to standard S.V.U. behavior she guessed. Another shiver traveled down her spine.
"Is I.A.B. here?"
" They're waiting for you at the station house. The Cap wouldn't let them come here."
"Don is a good man." Alex volunteered distractedly as she checked again to make sure her blouse was buttoned at her throat.
"I was asked to drive you back." Elliot said, rocking back and forth on his feet, clearly uncomfortable, but angry too.
Angry with whom, she wondered.
"You don't have to give your statement tonight, you know"
Elliot offered the advice suddenly, and Alex remembered why he was speaking out of turn and why he was angry. Like Donald Cragen, Eliot Stabler was a good man. She ignored the unspoken offer; taking advantage of Elliot's sympathy would only make matters worse. Instead she asked, "Where's Detective Benson?"
Alex watched as Elliot paused for a moment to choose his words.
"Liv's at St. Catherine's. The doctors are taking care of her right now. She lost a lot of blood so they're planning on keeping her overnight."
"Did you get to see her?"
The question covered too many possible inquiries, but Alex couldn't risk narrowing it down, reformulating it into a vehicle for gaining what she needed to know. She would have to settle for Elliot's interpretation.
"Only for a couple of minutes. Fin is there with her right now, plus a couple of internal affairs goons. But they won't be getting anything from her until the sedatives wear off. The doc says she won't wake up until morning."
Alex nodded her understanding and began walking towards the elevator. Elliot fell into step beside her.
"Let's get this over with."
"Are you sure you don't want to stop at your place and change?" Elliot asked, stopping her in the hallway with his question.
Alex looked into Elliot's eyes, naked with concern. She shook her head. "No, I want them to deal with the blood. It will make the process go faster."
Two hours later Alex finished giving her statement. It was five in the morning, and still she wasn't surprised to see Cragen waiting outside, or George Huang. What did surprise her was seeing Elliot and Munch; she would have thought they'd be sitting guard with Finn. She nodded at the four men, noticing how Munch carefully looked down at the floor while she smoothed the waist of her jacket.
"Is Detective Tutuola still with Detective Benson?"
Cragen stepped forward. "Olivia's out of emergency and in her room. Fin just checked in. She's sleeping. Why don't you let me run you home?"
Alex opened her mouth to argue, but was hit by a wave of exhaustion. Going to see Olivia would have to wait. "Home sounds good."
Cragen nodded and started to reach for Alex's arm, and stopped immediately as Alex shuddered. Still, he wasn't able to keep his eyes from momentarily meeting Huang's or registering Alex's observation of the exchange.
Too numb to care what the Special Victim Unit's favorite psychiatrist and profiler thought, and too weary to wonder what he communicated to its captain, Alex turned, headed for the door, and tried not to flinch at the sound of Cragen's footsteps falling in beside her.
Less than half an hour later, she locked the door to her apartment. For a minute, she stood in the foyer unable to think of what to do next. Earlier, there had been procedures, forms, examinations, questions, and steps to be taken; now, there was nothing. From the kitchen she could hear the hum of her refrigerator; outside she could hear the trash collectors moving down the alley. They were coming through a day early, and she wondered why. Perhaps there was an upcoming public holiday, or maybe one had just passed?
She shook her head, and tried to bring her thoughts into some kind of focus. She knew she should make some calls. She knew she should check in with her office. She vowed not to touch the telephone. Not yet. Her fingers moved nervously over her blouse, checking each of the buttons as she made a mental note to call Elliot and check up on Olivia's car. It would need to be cleaned. Her hand reached for the phone, and immediately drew back as she remembered her vow not to use the phone. There was only one person she needed to speak to, and she wasn't ready. Instead, she checked to make sure the door behind her was locked, and then she checked it again.
Outside, Alex heard the trash truck move out of the alley and turn on to the street, heading north. She dropped her keys on the entry table, and headed for the bathroom. The sound of pounding water helped fill her thoughts while she stripped off her clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor. She'd always liked her blue suit, but by tomorrow it would be in the dumpster, as would everything else she'd put on yesterday morning. Just before she walked into the shower stall, she checked the bathroom door. It was already locked.
Five minutes passed underneath the hot spray before she picked up the soap and began to rid her skin of every trace of the last twenty-four hours. She stood under the spray another five minutes before beginning on her hair. And then she repeated the process. After a while, the lime and coconut fragrances of the shampoo, conditioner and soap filled the air around her and she tried to breath in the clean scents, hoping to cleanse the inside of her as well as the out. The water was running cold when she left the shower almost an hour later, but she still did not feel fully clean.
Shivering from the effects of the water and the early morning air of her apartment, memories of the day before flashing randomly through her mind, she pulled on her bathrobe and headed for her bed. It was already past daybreak; still she left the lights on in the front room and the bathroom. In the warehouse, she'd begged for darkness, but now the idea of turning off the lights was inconceivable. When she finally crawled underneath her comforter, still wrapped in white terrycloth, sleep came upon her almost instantly. Her last conscious thought was of Olivia.
Olivia woke as a technician was taking a blood sample. Confused, she looked about the room. As her thoughts came together, she remembered first she was in a hospital and second why she was there. Tears rose up in her eyes, and she blinked them away angrily. The technician said something to her. She responded, unknowingly, her voice raw in her throat. Sample in hand, apparently finished with his task, he left the room. Olivia forgot about him instantly.
Outside, she could see daylight, but a quick search around the room did not reveal a clock. What she did spot was a telephone on the bedside table. She was reaching for it when Elliot came through the door. The sympathy on his face was almost more than she could bear.
"How long have you been awake?"
"Not long," Olivia responded as she tried to sit up. A blinding pain shot through her head, and she fell back on the bed.
"Okay, that really hurt."
Elliot was across the room in three strides. "Hey, don't try to move. The doc says you've got a minor concussion, plus some pretty bad bruising on the left side of your rib cage. They put seventeen stitches in your arm to close the deepest cuts, and they gave you blood. Miracle of miracles, they didn't need to stitch up your head, but there's a bruise stretching down the right side from your temple to your ear and another one on the left side that's back further and, according to the doc, the shape if not the size of South America." The litany of words stopped as suddenly as it started.
Olivia ignored all of it and focused on what was more important. "How's Alex?"
"She's home. They released her last night." Elliot responded carefully, offering only the most narrow of responses to Olivia's question.
But Elliot did not have to say anything; Olivia could read the information on his face.
"The rat-squad wouldn't let her leave before giving her statement." Olivia said flatly. She turned away to stare at the wall. "Those bastards couldn't let it go for one night?"
Elliot's voice was almost impossibly gentle. "An A.D.A. was present at an officer involved shooting. You took out both perps."
He didn't need to explain to Olivia how much he despised the callousness of I.A.B. It went without saying, as did so much else between the two of them.
Olivia continued to stare at the wall and Elliot heard what he thought might be a choked back sob. Knowing she needed the space, Elliot shifted the conversation.
"So far everything checks out, between Cabot's statement, the physical evidence and what Fin and Munch saw as they came through the door. I.A.B. is ready to sign off that this was a clean shoot. All they need is your statement."
Olivia took in what Elliot was trying to tell her however indirectly. She turned back to look Elliot in the eye. "The powers that be want this kicked under the rug as soon as possible."
He owed her far too much to lie. "No one wants to pursue this one, Liv. And why should they? Both perps had records twenty years in the making: drugs, prostitution, extortion, weapons charges, assault."
"No one wants to deal with having an A.D.A and a detective taken hostage," Olivia said, cutting Elliot off. "Or, the fun and games that were had while said detective was..." Unable to continue, she again looked away.
"Liv, you got the drop on them in the end. You stopped it. No one else got hurt. You did your job."
"Tell that to Alex."
"Alex knows you did all that you could. None of this was your fault." Elliot shook his head. He was getting off task. "As far as Alex is concerned, she thinks you saved her life."
He stopped there. First because he was speaking out of turn and second because he knew nothing he could say would change his partner's mind. She would need to come to terms with what happened on her own. And so would Alex Cabot.
With nothing else to say, he did what he could do and sat down in the chair next to the bed to wait for I.A.B. to arrive.
Based on what Elliot had already told her, Olivia wasn't surprised when the interview ended after less than an hour, or that they were willing to do it in her hospital room with her on pain meds. She was put on administrative leave pending the filing of their report, but she was already on medical leave for the rest of the week, making I.A.B.'s request meaningless. The only real surprise of the day was getting the doctor to agree to release her from the hospital by mid-afternoon.
Fin, Munch and Cragen stopped by her room before eleven, and Huang came by after lunch. She was ready for him to play psychiatrist and was humbly surprised when she realized he'd come by as a friend. The two talked until Elliot returned, and when Huang left, Olivia knew someday she'd talked to him about what had happened. But not now. Things were still too raw, too confusing. She knew whom she needed to talk to first; the only question was if she possessed the courage to speak.
Despite her doctor's promise, she had to wait until four before getting released, wearing a set of sweats Elliot had snagged from her locker and holding a bag full of medications in one hand and, surprisingly, a bag full of her ripped and bloodied clothes in the other. She'd assumed they'd want her clothes for evidence; she'd assumed incorrectly. Elliot was right. No one wanted to pursue yesterday's events.
The thought took her aback and she almost lost her balance. Had everything happened only twenty-four hours earlier? Dizzy and without thinking, she shifted her bags to one hand and took hold of Elliot's arm as they walked out of the hospital's doors and into the parking structure. The gesture resulted in yet another argument with Elliot, he maintaining she should either spend another night in the hospital or let him spend the night at her place, and she wanting neither. As was expected, the argument came to a stalemate.
With considerable effort on both of their parts, the ride home from the hospital was low-key. Elliot updated her on one of their cases and offered a play-by-play recap of his youngest daughter's most recent volley ball game. She related the basics of her interview with internal affairs.
They were halfway to her place before she realized it was snowing. The streets were just beginning to cover and the world looked clean to her. She knew it was only an optical illusion.
When they reached her building, Elliot insisted on double-parking and walking her to her door, but he made no attempt to carry her bags. His understanding of her boundaries tempted her to invite him in for coffee, but her need to be alone won out, and they said goodbye awkwardly, neither exactly sure how to part.
Their work made them live in each other's heads, and so she knew Elliot understood for now she couldn't deal with the sympathy on his face or the concern in his voice. She knew he understood she needed time and quiet in order to find new places to hide the demons that lived inside her head. She knew he understood her wishes.
What she wished for, however, was too much to ask, within minutes of Elliot's leaving, the phone rang. She did not need to pick it up to know who was calling.
"Hey."
Alex spoke clearly into the receiver. "Should you be home from the hospital?"
Olivia kicked off her shoes and carried the phone to the sofa. "The doc said I should avoid alcohol and call immediately if I start to feel nauseated. Other than that, I'm good to go."
"You're off for a week." Alex corrected.
"I.A.B. gave me the same while they write up their report."
"It's already filed."
For a moment Olivia wasn't sure she heard Alex correctly. "Filed?"
"Liz Donnelly called me about an hour ago. I.A.B. and my office held the review late this afternoon. I get to stay with Special Victims." She paused, catching her breath. "Olivia, no one is interested in letting this one hang in the wind."
"An officer takes down two suspects and no one wants to investigate." The detective questioned, focusing on the details she knew were safe to voice out loud, avoiding any mention of the horrors that explained why the report was being buried, and overlooking the seeming impossibility that Alex could be happy she was still assigned to the S.V.U.
"All of our stories cross-check."
"Somebody big wants this to go away." Olivia countered and then heard Alex sigh softly.
"It's an election year." The counselor reminded.
The two fell into an uncomfortable silence and Olivia thought Alex was about to ring off, but the A.D.A. surprised her. She said yes before she thought, and then nearly changed her mind. But the tone in Alex's voice convinced her not to refuse, which was why she found herself an hour or so later answering the door.
Alex was dressed in jeans and an oversized, pale blue turtleneck sweater. A gray and blue winter jacket dangled from one hand, the sleeves brushing against the floor, and a purse was slung over one shoulder and across Alex's body. The color of the sweater brought out the blue in her eyes and helped to disguise the pallor of her skin. A shiver rushed down Olivia's spine, as a picture, a memory, a word teased at the back of her thoughts. There was something she was supposed to remember, but it wouldn't come to her.
She pushed away the sensation as she stepped aside, granting Alex entry before taking her jacket and hanging it in the closet off the entryway. The jacket smelled of crisp snow and Alex's perfume, and Olivia fought an impulse to press her face into the cold fabric and breathe in the clean, fresh scents. Instead, she listened to Alex's footsteps as she walked from the entryway to the front room, waited a moment and then followed her inside the apartment.
It was probably only the forth or fifth time the A.D.A. had been to Olivia's flat. Before, she'd dropped by with questions about paperwork on Olivia's day off, and there was the one time she agreed to come to one of Olivia's informal parties, amazing everyone as she held her own with Munch, even as he asserted one conspiracy theory after the next.
Still, Olivia was relatively certain this was the first time the prosecuting attorney had ever shown up at her door dressed in jeans, let alone a pair of obviously well worn sneakers. The clothes made the attorney look younger, less austere. Even her black rimmed glassed looked less imposing.
"How are your ribs?" Alex asked standing in front of the brick and stone fireplace that was Olivia's pride and joy and the only reason she had moved from her old place.
Lost in her reverie, it took Olivia a moment to respond. "The meds are keeping the pain down to a dull roar. I'll live. What about you?"
She realized immediately her question was too open ended. If there were one thing Alex would not want, it would be for Olivia to try to handle her. "I meant, how are you feeling. You fell pretty hard in the parking lot." She added, choosing to mention an injury she knew they could discuss.
A silence fell between the two, one that quickly turned awkward. Each was sizing up the other, readying to acknowledge the events of the night before.
Alex unconsciously rubbed her elbow. "I'm a little scraped up from falling on the cement and sore from the," she trailed off for a moment, before adding, "From where the restraints held me down." Needing to take the attention off herself, she turned to look at Olivia.
The detective was dressed in black sweat pants and a gray sweatshirt. Underneath the pullover, Alex could see the hem of what she guessed was a navy blue tee shirt. Surprisingly, Olivia's feet were bare; the toe nails painted pale pink. The outfit was a far cry from her clothes from the night before, neatly pressed tropical weight wool slacks, accompanied by layered black and grey pullovers, the contrasting non-colors highlighting the contrast between Olivia's dark hair and eyes and pale skin. Different, yes, but the color palette was nearly identical. Alex found herself wishing for some of the reds and blues Olivia, lately, wore far too infrequently, before her thoughts turned in yet another direction.
The concern in her voice obvious, Alex abruptly asked: "Did you have time to grab a shower? I should have asked before I came over."
"I grabbed one before you got here." Olivia reassured.
"Did it help?"
The question remained suspended in the air for several seconds as both contemplated its meaning.
"Not much." Olivia admitted. The need to do something other than exchange words overtook her. "Do you want some tea or something? I've got regular and decaf coffee, I think. And half and half."
"Tea would be great."
"Herbal or orange pekoe. I might have some oolong from the restaurant down the street. I get take out from them about once a week." Realizing she was starting to babble, Olivia forced herself to stop talking and wait for Alex to respond.
Alex had to think to decide. She smoothed down the hem of her sweater and then checked to make sure the collar was pulled up.
"Orange pekoe, if it's not too much trouble."
"Why don't you sit down in the front room and I'll be out with it in a minute or two." Olivia suggested, nodding to the sofa that sat directly in front of the fireplace and trying to ignore Alex's hands as they continued to wander nervously over her clothes. "If you want, I could light the fire?"
"It's gas isn't it?" Alex quizzed. On Olivia's nod, she volunteered. "I remember where the button is from your party; I'll light it."
Olivia nodded a second time and then darted through the dining room to the narrow galley kitchen where she began putting out the tea, including a small bowl of sugar. Usually, Alex drank coffee with cream, but Olivia remembered seeing Alex drink tea with sugar one afternoon several weeks ago when she, Alex and Elliot had lunched together at a Middle-Eastern restaurant not far from the Alex's office.
There was an unopened box of Girl Scout cookies in the cupboard and she put them out as well. Feeling badly, but unable to deal with the emptiness in Alex's eyes, she waited in the kitchen while the water boiled and the tea steeped, returning to the front room far more than a minute or two later and bearing a tray heavy with two mugs of steaming black tea, the small sugar bowl and a plate of chocolate mint cookies.
Alex was sitting in the center of the sofa, seemingly lost in thought as she gazed into the fireplace at the blue and yellow flames dancing over the stone logs. Her hands continued to work on her clothes, alternating between pulling at a loose thread in her sweater and smoothing the creases in her jeans. When Olivia sat down next to her, she startled and then tried to cover her surprise.
"Are those Girl Scout cookies?"
"The last of my stash." Olivia admitted with a faint smile.
Alex picked up one of the thin cookies and took a small bite. "How many boxes did Elliot sock you for?"
"An even dozen." Olivia confessed. "But you have to admit they're delicious."
"Last year, I bought a dozen boxes myself. But mine were all gone within three months, and it's not like I do a lot of entertaining. You must have far more discipline than me."
"You're a cookie monster?"
Olivia asked the question realizing how little she really knew about the woman sitting next to her. Until yesterday, they were at best colleagues, if for no other reason than the fact that Alex had always held herself a little apart from the detectives in S.V.U., a behavior Olivia thought she entirely understood. Keeping a distance between herself and her investigators could only help Alex maintain her professional integrity in Olivia's opinion, and still she had always wished Alex would someday relax that professional facade of hers, even if it served to protect Olivia as well.
"The result of childhood deprivation." Alex offered unaware of the storm of thoughts thundering inside Olivia's head. "My mother not only refused to let me be a Girl Scout, she also refused to buy cookies from any of my friends. I was sent to music camp instead where I stuffed myself on contraband thin mints and snickerdoodles."
Music camp, Olivia repeated in her head, as she smiled with Alex at the memory. Did Alex play an instrument? Did she sing? But instead of asking about music camp, Olivia did her job and asked the more important question.
"Did you call her?"
"To let her know what happened?" Alex asked, already knowing the answer to her question. "No, I didn't. She's away on vacation in the Virgin Islands. I don't need to ruin..."
Alex trailed off. Both women sat back on the couch, the tea and cookies forgotten on the table in front of them. The real topic of conversation was now in the air, and neither was the type to shy away from it.
"Alex, I'm sorry."
"Don't." Alex interrupted. "It's not your responsibility to apologize for what they did to us."
"Alex, I should never have let you get into the car with them."
"They were prepared to kill us both on the street. You were trying to buy us time. And it turned out, you were right. We're here. Safe."
The word safe echoed in Olivia's head. Safe would mean they didn't need to have this conversation. Safe would mean she would have dropped Alex off at her apartment at nine and seen her the next day at D'Mateo's as they picked up their morning coffee. But she said nothing of that, instead she said, "If I'd thought for a minute what they would do to..."
"What?" Alex interrupted her voice rising in volume. "You'd have let them shoot us? Olivia, we made it out alive. We did the most important thing: we survived."
"It's more than that." Olivia argued, conveniently not remembering how often she'd told victims the same thing.
Alex pulled one of the threads from her sweater. "What do you want, Olivia?"
"Want?" Olivia asked, knowing Alex was upset but having no idea what she meant by her question.
"There's nothing we can do about what happened. It's finished, all of it."
"Just because some report's in the process of being kicked under the rug doesn't mean things are finished." Olivia argued, her anger obvious.
"Neither of us needs that report out in the open." Alex hissed. "We didn't hold anything back and now the report can go away."
"You're right, we told the truth and neither of us wants that report anywhere other than buried at the lowest level of hell, especially me." Olivia snapped. She moved off the sofa to stand in front of the fire with her back to Alex, unwilling to bear witness to the expression on the attorney's face, already knowing its shape and meaning.
Behind the detective, Alex dropped her face in her hands. She had pushed Olivia into the admission, needing her to say it first, and knowing they both needed to talk about what happened. But she'd done it in anger and now she had no idea if she had the strength to push the point further. It took a moment or two, but she found it.
"Me because of what happened while I was restrained, you because of..." She trailed off, knowing Olivia would say the word. Still hearing Olivia say it out loud shocked her.
"Because I raped you."
The statement shattered inside of her even though Alex already knew it was what Olivia thought. She knew it from the look in Olivia's eyes the night before, and she knew it from the way Olivia could barely bring herself to look at her now. But now it was her turn to convince Olivia otherwise. It was why she was here.
"I wasn't raped." Alex said, standing up.
"Did they take a rape kit?"
Olivia's question and its implication did not slip past her, "Standard procedure doesn't make what happened to me a rape, and you know it. That's just terminology," but Alex knew she was going down the wrong path. Making legalistic distinctions wouldn't serve to make any headway with Olivia Benson. Despite her question, the detective was far too aware of the meaninglessness of those distinctions. Olivia dealt in evidence, not semantics.
Realizing she had folded her arms across her body, Alex forced herself to drop them to her sides.
"Look, I don't know what word we should put on what happened, but it happened to us, not just me, and I can't let you..."
"Take responsibility for what I did?" Olivia countered, moving away from the fire and towards the front room windows, seeking out the cold emanating from the glass, wanting to see the snow and ice.
"To save us. To give us time." Alex responded, unable to leave her position in front of the fire.
"Don't you mean to save myself, to keep them from blowing my head off."
Even though she knew this would be Olivia's interpretation of what had happened, hearing it said nearly bowled Alex over.
"God, Olivia. Do you really think that sacrificing yourself would have saved me in anyway? I needed you alive. I needed you to get control. And you did."
"Too late." Olivia countered, half wanting Alex to acknowledge the horror of how she did it, and half-fearing the attorney would grant her wish.
"Too late for what? For us to be here, for us to be safe."
"Alex, you jump every time a truck rattles down the street. How can you say that you feel safe?" Olivia snapped.
"I didn't say feel. I said be." Alex corrected, her fury growing, even as a memory of cold metal against her skin itched in the back of her mind. "And don't you dare take that as some kind of indirect reference about you failing to keep me safe. Don't you dare."
Suddenly more angry than she'd ever been in her life, Alex moved towards Olivia ready to do what. Hit? Scratch? Fight? Black spots formed in front of her eyes and she started to pitch forward. Strong arms caught her, wrapping around her waist, as her fingers dug into Olivia's thick cotton sweatshirt. In the back of her thoughts, she heard Olivia make some small sound of pain, but she couldn't concentrate on it. She needed to put all of her mental energy into her legs to keep herself upright.
Olivia said something about needing to sit down, and she let the detective guide her back to the sofa. Sensing Olivia was about to pull away, Alex hung on, pulling her back, forcing her to sit next to her. Only then was she willing to open her eyes. The room spun around crazily, and her stomach lurched. She leaned forward immediately, letting her head drop down between her legs. Olivia's hand began to move against her back, and she concentrated on the gentle motion until the dizziness passed.
When she sat back up, she looked into concerned brown eyes. "Sorry." She murmured, embarrassment coloring the tips of her ears and her cheeks.
Olivia shook her head. "No need." She'd never seen Alex lose control before; she needed an excuse for why she saw it happen now. "So, when was the last time you ate anything?"
Alex had to think a moment. She understood Olivia was giving them an out. She took it. "Last night, with you."
Olivia startled. Somehow she'd forgotten their nightmare had begun after the two of them had dinner together in the wake of a late afternoon meeting spent going over testimony. She had to think to remember if I.A.B. had asked her about the dinner. Alex's rapidly paling face brought her out of her reverie.
"You need to eat. Why don't I call Little Emperor; you like Chinese right?"
Alex started to protest, but stopped before the words crossed her lips. Olivia was right. She needed to eat, and she needed not to make a fuss. Olivia deserved better. She asked instead, "How's their ma-po?"
"Not as good as their eggplant tofu." Olivia admitted with a faint smile. "Want to let me order."
"Anything but pork, okay."
Olivia nodded. "I've got their menu hanging by the phone in the kitchen, I'll be right back."
Alex nodded too and only then realized she was holding Olivia's hand. Blushing, she observed. "I guess you need me to let go then."
"You can hang on as long as you need to."
The words came off of Olivia's tongue without her thinking and without any effort. Her cheeks now nearly as pink as Alex's, she reddened further after Alex responded she would hold Olivia to her promise.
Rubbing her thumb over Alex's knuckles one last time, Olivia said, "I promise to be quick," and then headed into the kitchen.
Forcing herself not to watch as Olivia walked out of the room, Alex instead kicked off her sneakers and drew her legs and feet on to the cushions. A throw blanket hung over the back of the sofa, and she pulled it over her shoulders, smiling as she noticed the lingering scent of Olivia's perfume. From the front room she could hear Olivia talking on the phone, if not make out precisely what Olivia was saying. She wondered if Olivia used chopsticks, and if Olivia would laugh at her miserable technique. And then she pulled her thoughts together.
She didn't know why she'd gotten so angry, let alone so angry so fast. Nothing Olivia has said had surprised her. Everything Olivia said was something she'd considered in order for rebuttal. And even if she could accept that her bad behavior was some sort of residual result of what had happened yesterday, she couldn't accept the idea of her losing control, not like that, not like some victim.
The word put a stop to her thoughts. Victim. Victims were the people she helped, maybe not as directly as the police, but at least to the extent of giving them some sense of justice. But not always, her conscience whispered softly. Not every victim found justice. Cases went unsolved; perpetrators were found not guilty. She wouldn't need to worry, however. Justice had already been delivered in her case. The image of her two tormentors lying bloodied and dead on the floor of the warehouse flashed in her mind, and she shook her head to drive it away.
Her eyes returned to the fire and the yellow and blue flames moving along the stone logs. Part of her wished it were a real fire, even though she knew burning wood set off her allergies. A real fire would make sound, something to distract her until Olivia came back.
Impulsively, she got up from the sofa, letting the blanket fall back onto the cushions, and went to Olivia's stereo. It was a simple set up: a combination CD and tape player console with two speakers sitting atop a low-slung, vintage 1940 coffee table. On the shelf below were scattered a couple dozen CDs. She used her fingertips to push them from side to side, until a familiar title jumped into view. Smiling, she slid the silver disk from its cardboard folder and popped it into the empty tray, moments later; Cyndi Lauper's cover of "At Last" quietly filled the room.
"I know the reviews were pretty mixed, but I like it." Olivia said from the doorway.
Alex stood up. "Me too. Guess we're not music critics."
"Guess not," Olivia replied moving into the room. "I ordered hot and sour soup, the eggplant tofu and the green bean chicken. It should be here in about twenty-five to thirty minutes."
"Fast service for the dinner hour."
"They know I'm a cop and I live ten minutes away. I'm speed dial two, right after nine, one, one."
Alex grinned. "New York's finest, huh,"
"On my good days." Olivia said softly, unable to share Alex's smile.
"Would you sit next to me while we wait?"
The request came out of her mouth impulsively, and Alex flinched, disliking the needy tone in her voice.
"Are you cold?" Olivia asked, nodding towards the cast off throw blanket on the sofa. "I could turn up the heat."
Alex shook her head, not trusting her voice. She moved back to the sofa and tried not to lean into Olivia when the detective sat down next to her. But Alex's efforts to keep her distance were unnecessary. It was Olivia who moved closer, first pulling the blanket over Alex's shoulders and then drawing one arm around her.
"Better?" Olivia asked.
Hating the impulse, but unable to stop herself, Alex turned her face into Olivia's shoulder and sighed softly. "Much better."
Strands of Olivia's hair tickled the side of her face, and she moved slightly, only to hear Olivia's quiet wince. She sat back up quickly, blushing a deep scarlet.
"God, Olivia, I completely forgot about your side. Am I hurting you?"
Just as quickly, Olivia's fingertips moved to Alex's cheek. "Never. You've never hurt me. Let's just settle down for a minute while we wait for our food."
The color in her cheeks slowing draining, Alex glanced at Olivia's forearm. It was covered with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, but the bandage poked out from under the cuff. "What about your arm?"
"Alex, really, I'm fine. Don't worry about it, okay. Just settle down." Olivia caught Alex's eyes with her own. "Please."
Alex nodded her agreement, murmuring as she moved back into the comforting circle of Olivia's arm, "I hate it when I act like a baby."
Olivia couldn't stop herself; she started to laugh. "Alex, I don't think I've ever seen you act like a baby. I can't even imagine you being a baby."
Catching Olivia's humor, Alex frowned with mock concern. "Are you telling me you think I emerged from my mother's womb in a pinstriped suit and heels."
Not giving an inch, Olivia added. "Wearing black rimmed glasses and carrying a tiny leather briefcase."
"So, I'm a born lawyer, huh." Alex agreed softly. "Just like you're a born cop." She knew Olivia would flinch, but she was prepared for it. "Born to serve and protect."
"Alex," Olivia began, her tone a warning.
"Olivia," Alex interrupted, "if you get to characterize me, I get to characterize you. It's only fair."
"It's not the same thing." Olivia argued, ready to make her point, but stopping a second time, as Alex pressed a gentle kiss on the side of her head. The kiss was innocent and chaste and impossibly sweet.
"Once I start with the cling-girl, it's hard for me to stop. Promise to tell me when I go too far?" Alex said, trying to play off her concern as a joke.
"I promise." Olivia whispered back, as she drew Alex closer. "Of course, I might get even clingier than you, in which case my promise might not be worth much."
Alex chuckled, unknowingly allowing her breath to ruffle through Olivia's hair. "I think we're in the clear so long as we restrict ourselves from indulging in any cling time while we're at work."
"Point taken."
They fell quiet for several minutes. It was Alex who interrupted the silence.
"Thank you for letting me come over. I needed this."
"Dinner from Little Emperor?" Olivia dissembled.
"No, you. Just you." Alex whispered.
No longer understanding what she was doing, now acting simply out of need, Alex drew up her legs, letting her knees rest on Olivia's thighs. "Please don't push me away."
"Alex, that's not going to happen," Olivia reassured.
"Last night, you called me sweetie."
Alex had spoken so softly at first Olivia wasn't sure she'd heard her correctly. Afraid not to respond, she whispered back, "Last night, I called you all sorts of things."
"You do that you know." Alex explained. "Fin does it too. Use little endearments, I mean."
"Munch doesn't approve. He thinks it misleads people into thinking we care more than we do."
"But you do care more, probably more than you should." Alex corrected, her voice still soft. "Last night, I wanted you to use them. I needed you to call me sweetie and baby."
"Do you still?"
"You already know the answer to that question." Alex hesitated a moment, but then took the step. "You knew it before last night."
Olivia's voice was entirely neutral. "Did I?" She'd had inklings, but never let herself think about it. Such ideas were far too dangerous for her, and she was well trained at keeping them at bay.
Alex's tone was dry as the desert. "For a cop, when it comes to certain matters Detective Benson, you have the exact opposite of what they call a poker face." But that doesn't mean you understand what's going on inside of you, she added from deep inside her thoughts.
Olivia chuckled. "In most cases?"
"Maybe not most."
"When it comes to you."
"Maybe," Alex responded, starting to grow nervous. Things were moving too fast, and she was the reason why. Afraid, Alex began to pull away, seeking the distance she needed to keep Olivia safe, but Olivia's arms closed around her, holding her in the moment. She spoke her thoughts out loud and immediately regretted it. "I guess there were a few things I left out of my report to I.A.B."
"Nothing important." Olivia said, her voice tight, but wanting Alex to know she understood, even if only barely. "I know you told them everything they needed to know." She paused. "To clear me."
Alex heard Olivia's point, even if the detective couldn't say it. "Anything I left out would have only complicated things."
"Complicated things for me." Olivia said, it was half question, half statement. She assumed Alex was trying to protect her. She took it for granted Alex would not seek to protect herself.
"Olivia, we both know I couldn't tell them that." Alex said, speaking of one thing.
"Because you didn't want to get me into trouble." Olivia responded, speaking of another.
"Because I didn't want to tell them what I only needed to tell you." Alex corrected.
Both knew they were at bridge once crossed there was no turning back, and since neither was sure of what it would mean to proceed, both stopped, not to protect herself, only to protect the other.
Another silence fell over the room. This time it was not uncomfortable; it was rather filled with kindness and caring. Olivia cuddled Alex closer inside her arms and dropped a kiss a top her hair.
"I wish I could take everything back. I'm so sorry for what you had to go through."
"Olivia, you don't need to feel sorry. What happened is over and done with."
"Is it, can it be?" Olivia broached the subject she'd wanted to raise since Alex called on the phone. "Baby, I need you to promise me you're going to see someone."
"Someone like George?"
"Huang is a good man, but maybe you'd rather see a woman."
It pained her to admit it, but Alex knew Olivia was right. She needed to talk to someone, but she wasn't sure if gender mattered. All she really needed was someone she could trust.
She shifted in Olivia's arms and looked up, wanting Olivia to see her face. "I'm not sure who I'm going to see, but I will see someone. I may be the buttoned down lawyer, but I know when I need help."
There faces were so close, Olivia could see the different colored flecks and streaks of blue that colored Alex's eyes, lines of aquamarine, cerulean, sapphire, cobalt and navy. So many shades of blue, but pure and clear, like the ice that lived deep inside faraway glaciers. A word whispered in the back of her thoughts; she ignored it in favor of gazing about Alex's face, observing instead the smooth plane of Alex's forehead, the delicate arch of her brows, the patrician nose and the firm jaw. She traced in her mind's eye the sweep of Alex's lips, and turned Alex's face into a memory of rich depth and detail. Over the past twenty-four hours, she'd seen that face smile and laugh, cry out in pain and collapse in humiliation.
The rage inside her built up, and she wished she could kill the men again, the men who'd hurt Alex and who'd turned her into their instrument of pain and degradation.
Alex's hand came up to the side of Olivia's face; with her thumb she gently stroked the bruised flesh. "Stop thinking about them. Stop beating yourself up for what they did."
"What I did."
"How they used you to hurt me." Alex corrected. "How they hurt the both of us."
"I wanted them dead." Olivia admitted, needing to say the words out loud.
"But you didn't kill them out of rage or anger or for what they did to me," she knew it would hurt but she said it anyway, knowing Olivia needed her to say it, "or for what they made you do to me. You killed them because you had to, to protect us, to protect Munch and Fin. If you hadn't pulled the trigger, who knows what else they might have accomplished."
Alex drew her thumb over Olivia's lips and then pulled her hand away. "It was a clean shoot, Liv. I know it, the S.V.U. knows it and so does I.A.B. Even if you wanted them dead."
There was nothing more to say. Alex let her head drop back to Olivia's shoulder, not sure if the trembling in Olivia's arms was because of anger or tears held back. What she did know was Olivia needed her to be quiet in order to think.
It had taken Alex a while to learn Olivia's deep need for silence. She guessed it was a lesson Elliot learned in far shorter time. For the first six months Alex had known the detective she'd found her to be a cipher, almost impossible to read, the most frustrating person she'd ever me. Every assumption she'd made about Olivia turned out to be wrong, from the detective's reading habits to the furnishings in the detective's home. And everything she learned about Olivia Benson only increased the attraction she'd felt since the moment they first met.
Working side by side with her heart's desire was in ways the perfect mixture of pleasure and pain. Still, she was long resolved to the fact that Olivia chose not to share in the attraction. For that reason Alex had always kept her distance, fearing for her own heart as much as fearing for Olivia's comfort. In all the years they'd known one another, last night's dinner was probably only the fourth or fifth time they'd dined together without Elliot playing the role of the unacknowledged chaperone, and now she couldn't stop herself from replaying the moment when she'd suggested they grab something to eat. If only she'd kept quiet, if only she'd stayed the course, Olivia would never have been dragged into her mess.
Olivia hated their captors for what they had made her do, but Alex hated them for what Olivia thought they had made of her. Alex knew they had no idea what they had accomplished. She knew it was she they wanted to hurt and it was only the most twisted kind of fun and games for them to make the detective act as their surrogate. More than anything else, more than the exposure of her body, more than her wounds, it was the ironies of all that had happened that hurt the most. Their captors had given her a version of her heart's desire turned into absolute perversion, and they'd made Olivia into her own worst nightmare. Olivia may have wanted them dead, but she'd wanted them to suffer first and then die.
She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the thoughts jangling about in her head.
"I'm glad you're here."
Alex needed a moment to realize Olivia had spoken and another to process the words. They sent her to another place of guilt.
"I wanted to see you last night, and I know I should have, but I needed to go home." She confessed. "I was tired and I needed to try to get clean."
Her face now hidden against Olivia's shoulder, unconsciously, Alex's hand moved to her throat and pulled up the collar of her turtleneck.
Olivia noticed the gesture. As gently as she could, she put her hand over Alex's and moved it to her lap.
"Sweetie, I probably spent a half hour in the shower myself. You did what you needed to do. Besides, the docs kept me knocked out until morning. I wouldn't have known if you'd come to see me."
"You're not mad at me?"
Olivia expected the question, but it still hurt to hear it. "Alex, you didn't do anything wrong. I promise."
Her ribs protested, but Olivia turned and wrapped Alex in her arms, not caring about the fiery pain in her side, only certain Alex needed as much contact as possible. Moments later, she felt the tension in Alex's body begin to relax. Her eyes drifted about the front room, finding the window. From the sofa she could see the snow was falling faster and thicker. The song switched on the stereo and the opening notes of "Unchained Melody" filled the air.
Some of the notes went wrong, but she liked the Lauper version better than other recent versions, if only for by its unabashed honesty. As the song came to an end, Olivia realized Alex had fallen asleep, and tears were streaking down her cheeks. Embarrassed, she reached to brush them away, but was stopped by Alex's sleepy protest, arms closing tight and a tiny sound coming from deep inside her throat. Olivia's hand returned to the back of Alex's head, and she realized she'd been sifting through Alex's hair entirely unaware.
More tears came as Olivia began to cry, as she'd always done, silently and in secret. She didn't know what hurt her more, the things she'd done to Alex or Alex's unquestioning trust, what she did know was the all too familiar shape of the pain. Sobs moved through her body, trembling inside muscles and over skin, held tightly inside her throat. As always, the hurt swallowed her whole, pulling her inside its darkness, so much so that Olivia would never remember dropping a kiss upon Alex's hair, or the press of Alex's lips against her neck. She would never recall Alex whispering into her skin words of comfort and love; she would never recollect the moment Alex claimed her heart.