A short one-shot based on a text from a friend living in a completely different time zone.
Might be extended at some stage in the future.
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Olivia,
When I was in New York we'd go days without seeing each other. Weeks sometimes if we were both working on big cases. The time apart was hard. You'd forget to eat, forget to sleep, forget to check the messages on your phone. I'd text you every day to remind you that I love you. I know you'd never forget that, but I still needed to tell you as often as possible. I had to tell you every day because I loved you every day. I still love you every day.
When I was in New York I was consumed by my job. You were consumed by your job. Somehow, we still found a way to be consumed with each other. I know your job is your life. You protect the weak, the vulnerable, the scared. And you protected me. You protected me from my job. There's a fine line between devouring your job and being devoured by it. You never let me cross that line again once you'd brought me back from the other side.
I remember the day you did that. It's one of my favourite memories. You probably don't realise how life altering a smile from you can be. I know you remember the day, the moment, but I've never told you the feeling. It was when I first started with SVU, and it was the first time Elliot invited me to join you for drinks after a case. I looked to you for approval and you smiled. That smile told me I was accepted. That smile told me you cared. That smile told me I didn't have to spend my night re-reading old case files. That smile made me fall for you even more, and I would do anything to see it again.
Witness Protection is an oxymoron. The person being protected isn't the witness. Alexandra Cabot was killed the moment she was shot, the night you wouldn't let me die. The only person being protected is Emily (or whatever name they've given me). When I drink I can pretend I'm Alex again. I can pretend I'm with you in New York. But the New York I visit isn't the one you live in. The New York you live in has a new ADA. A new ADA to receive your smiles. A new ADA to push the boundaries of the law. A new ADA who probably keeps her phone on and by her bed at night in case you call. When I drink I'm living in your past… or I'm an alcoholic.
I'm living in your past, but can you see me in your future?