1.

Alex pinched the bridge of her nose as she put down the brief. She was starting to think she shouldn't even have bothered fighting Olivia's request to get her transferred. Another department sounded glorious—like there would be space to breathe, not to think about constant trauma, and she wouldn't see her girlfriend's—her ex-girlfriend's? she wasn't even sure—name in every file that came across her desk.

It had been weeks since Alex and Olivia had spoken outside of a professional context, the Nikki Sherman case still shadowing their every move. Olivia sent Elliot to request a warrant whenever she could, and when they had no choice but to meet—in Alex's office, in the 1-6, in court—Olivia's eyes brushed over her. The fact that Sam Baylor was now in prison, that it was Alex who had put him there, didn't seem to make a difference to Olivia. The last time Alex had seen Olivia was two days ago, when she had shown up with a pocket full of tissues and her nose dripping, eyes glazed and feverish, to request a search warrant for a kiddie pornographer's apartment. She had seemed shaky on her feet, grasping unobtrusively at the edge of Alex's desk, and Alex ached to take care of her. For once the warrant made sense, probable cause in place without Alex having to demand it; she signed and couldn't stop herself from reaching out to touch Olivia's hand.

"I'll come over later," she heard herself saying. "Bring you some soup."

Olivia stared out the window above her head. "I'm fine."

"Whatever you are, it isn't fine."

"Just need to rest. Don't worry about it, Counselor." She was out the door before Alex even felt the sting of the appellation.

She had messed up during the Sherman case, she knew it, cracking under the pressure of the state bar investigation. But Olivia had gone behind her back, over her head, and she kept punishing Alex instead of talking to her—and really, Alex could have used her support during that investigation, just an hour or two of her girlfriend's goddamn time. Alex pushed the brief aside with unnecessary ferocity and stared at the clock, counting down the hours left in the day.

The phone rang. "Cabot."

"Alex."

Elliot Stabler's voice was tense, shaky, and Alex's heart jumped to her throat. "What?"

It had to be about Olivia. The fear that lurked inside every cop's lover seized Alex's veins. Liv had been hurt. Or worse. While Alex was angry with her. She'd been stalked, it had been going on for weeks, and she hadn't even bothered to let Alex know. She'd had to draw her gun but the perp had been quicker and—

Alex tried to still her mind. "Elliot, what's going on?"

"Listen, Alex. You know about—Liv's been telling you about all this B.S. with the Vandyne case?"

"She hasn't told me anything," said Alex, a little curtly. First he scared the crap out of her, now he reminded her of Olivia's silence? "Is it something I should know?"

"Yeah, now it is," said Elliot quietly. "It's something you should know."